I reach for a kiss. “I’m not thirsty thanks. Tell me about your tattoos.”
“It’s a long story, so sit tight and close to me,” he says, putting my back against his chest. “It was the night before Christmas… My brother Patrick and I got sloshed and woke in the tattoo parlor. We both had a tattoo of a rose. So we have both spent the past ten years trying to cover it up with better tattoos. Spooky right?” he laughs.
I laugh. Silly boy. “This explains the thorns around the rose. How old is your brother again?”
“He’s about three years older, so thirty-two. He’s a physician like my parents and they all work together at Grant, Grant & Son Medical Centre. He has three children. Gemma is eight, Donna is five and Patricia who just turned two. Oh and a crazy vegan wife named Sally. Poor bloke has to come all the way down to London from Manchester to eat meat.”
“Oh, Uncle Marcus…when is or was your birthday. You obviously know when mine was?”
He kissed the back of my neck. “You still have time to find me a gift. I’m a fall baby. I’ll be twenty-nine on October twelfth.”
“Would it be a brain, a heart or courage?” I giggle. This is fun. Is Marcus tickling me? Oh my God! “Please stop,” I plead, laughing.
“Who needs a brain or courage now?”
We tickle fight for bit and Marcus lets me win. My prize? It’s my turn to spoon. I like it; I put my arms around his chest and softly play with his hair there.
“What about your tattoo?” he asks me. He takes my leg and touches it.
“I was fifteen, a wild child and in love. What good things can come out of that? It was just before I joined Axelle and Callia on tour. I was hanging out with this amazing French gypsy called Armand and we took the wrong flight… on purpose…to Thailand…for two days. I did some mushrooms and got me a tribal tattoo. That’s all I can remember.”
Marcus turns to face me. “A wild child even before becoming Lucita? I would expect that of Noor,” he says and seals it with a kiss. I yawn a little and he turned off the lights. “What was your childhood like?”
I put my head on chest. “That’s much better.” I kiss his navel. “Yours first.”
“Oh, you better show me yours later. Pretty typical; my parents were sweethearts in medical school and got married. My grandparents on my mother’s side are physicians. But I wanted to become a music composer. They fought it for a while but they realized how good I was by the time I was twelve. I could play at least four different instruments.”
“I can play two on my worst day,” I say.
“So I’ve heard. They got me all the training and coaching I needed and they still had Patrick to fulfill the family legacy. Now my dad plays inventor of the week in his spare time and my mum is leading all the charity boards in Manchester. After thirty-five years of marriage they’re still happy.”
I keep silent for a minute. Childhood memories… “First of all, we’re Riddell; meaning we’re all wild children from Axelle to me.” I can myself smiling in the dark,“Until the age of eight, I had the perfect childhood. Then one day my papa didn’t come home.” Marcus holds me tighter. “Mum moved us out of London to the South of France within a month. The Riddell have an estate in there. Axelle stayed behind in London. She was eighteen and like most Riddell women before her, part of the Royal Ballet Academy. She had also just met Paul. He was at Papa’s funeral.”
I don’t really know how long I have been quiet. Marcus is caressing my back and the gentle movements are putting me to sleep.
“When did she abandon you?” he calmly asks and I’m pretty sure he feels me tense up. “Apparently, my mother knew yours and was even at your parents’ wedding.”
“Really? This is so wicked!” I say and then let out a yawn before continuing. “Eleanor Riddell-Mpobo planned her escape well. After Papa’s death, she was only a shadow of her former self. Noor and I spent the strangest and loneliest four years. Then one summer we were in London with our grandfather and Axelle was on tour with Charisma; she legally gave us up to Axelle and split dad’s insurance money into four equal parts and took hers. No letters, phone calls or apology. We came back in September and found an empty house with all the papers.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s in the past; I’ve shed more than enough tears. Axelle became our mother at twenty-two and this is how I started my life as a teenage musician between boarding school and Charisma summer tours.” I yawn and yawn some more. I even make Marcus yawn.
“Axelle is great,” Marcus says, sounding a bit sleepy. “And a true beauty.”
I pinch him. “Hey! She’s taken!”
“I like her eyes, her nose, her cheek bones, her lips –” he says, obviously teasing me.
“What a coincidence I have the same ones. All from Mum, even our dancing skills.” My eyes are completely closed now. “Do you and Patrick look alike?”
“Not at all; he’s the spinning image of my dad with mum’s eyes and hair color and I’m the opposite. Fun story –” Marcus stops. I think he finally notices my steady breathing.
“Luce?”
“Um…”
“Honey, are you sleeping?”
“Um…”
“Alright,” I hear him murmuring in my ears. I can feel him moving me and my back caressed by his chest as I’m drifting off into a peaceful slumber.
I’ve been pacing in front of Lloyd’s office for the past forty-five minutes. They called Marcus and me back up an hour ago. It’s decision time on Second Coming and it had better go my way. Every five minutes or so, I check in with Kathie. Let’s check again.
“Nothing yet, Luce,” she says before I even ask her.
“Luce, for the last time, sit down.” he’s comfortably sitting on the reception sofa. “You’re going to ruin your shoes.”
I stop walking and position myself in front of him. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No, but I made you stop,” he gloats. He grabs my arm and gently forces me to sit next to him.
Fine; I’m sitting. My feet were starting to hurt anyway. Those red pumps were one of my birthday gifts from Callia and the kids. They’re perfect with my dark-blue dressy shorts and my nautical shirts. I had a theme in mind this morning and I heard all the possible sailor jokes from Marcus when I was getting dressed. The pigtails didn’t help but I forgot my hair products at home, so this solution seemed like a good one at the time. Going home and get my things would maybe have been a better one.
I check the time: five more minutes. What could be taking so long? Marcus and I have been working on a new format for the album for the past two weeks. After Matt’s return on the Sunday after the party, it became very clear to us that we would never finish that album in sixteen weeks. All the work we had both put in during his nearly four-week absence hasn’t satisfied his highness Matthews fucking Marsh. We ended up recording only three songs as a duet and a solo for Beesly. But then that knob head actually tried to go back on all the twelve songs we already recorded and take some off the album. As if! So, after three bottles of vintage merlot, a lot of take out from the best Indian restaurant in the city and homemade mango sorbet with madeleine, Marcus and I made a decision; we would go to bed first and would come up with a plan the next day during breakfast. Hence, after a late brunch and playing hooky from work, we decided that we wouldn’t be writing anymore songs. We wrote more than twenty songs and that was their plan; Matt was the one who didn’t like them. Time to dust off a few old or less-recent hit songs!
“Don’t worry,” Marcus whispers and gives a peck. “We will be out of here in time for the calendar shoot,” he teases louder. “You’re supposed to be July, aren’t you?”
“Hey, I thought we were done with jokes, Marcus!” I push him gently.
“The sailor ones! You look like one sexy pinup girl,” he laughs.
“Shut up!” I laugh too then make a pose. “Really?”
He’s pulling my pigtails. “Yes, Miss July and The Sleeping Beauty. She kisses like
a siren but sleeps like a log.”
I look at Kathie who almost chokes on her coffee. “I’m just a heavy sleeper, okay!” I tell her. I turn to Marcus. “Have I been snoring?”
“No of course not.”
“Falling asleep too early for you then?”
“Never! Not this stunning siren.” Sure. He’s starting to realize that he’s in trouble. “You just can’t be woken up that easily,” Marcus finally says, very embarrassed. “I’m an idiot.”
“You can say that again.” I cross my arms.
“I’m an idiot,” he says with a wink.
“I didn’t hear that,” I tease, approaching him.
“A total, total shaft.”
“I do like it when you talk dirty to me,” I joke.
“A real –”
“Guys?” Kathie interrupts. “They’re ready for you.”
We look at each other and head to Callia’s office.
I’ve either fallen asleep on the massage table again or someone wants an encore. The hands caressing my back have been traded for light kisses. Someone definitely wants another encore. I’ll keep my eyes shut a little longer, being the sleeping log that I am.
This week, victory was ours! I can still see Matt’s face when I announced the changes for the album. Callia and Lloyd accepted our proposal but with a catch; we’ve only been given ten weeks instead of fourteen to finish and we’ve just spent one of those bickering with our singers.
“So you agree with her about that?” Matt asked Marcus.
Marcus looked exasperated by that comment. “I thought we passed this bollocks, mate! And this was our decision. So unless you want to try to write your own songs…” Marcus told him.
Through that entire ordeal, Beesly stayed very quiet. I presumed that she didn’t appreciate my back-stabbing move, but this was more a strategic one to get the job done. Hurting B was never ever in the plans.
“Well, you just don’t eat where you shit!” I heard Matt scream. Was that fucker talking about me? He had a nerve!
“What the bloody hell is wrong with you? I can’t…” Marcus told Matt. He got up and walked toward him. We were sitting in one of the meeting rooms and I stood and caught up with him before something happened.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked him, posting myself in front of him. “Have you ever even been in a fight?”
“What’s your point, Luce?” God, he was mad.
I put his head between my hands and kissed him. “He will play dirty and I don’t want anything to happen to that perfect face of yours,” I whispers. “But thank you for defending my honor. I’m a karate blue belt remember,” I told him. I walked to Matt, still comfortably sitting next to a still-quiet Beesly. “And you. How dare you! You who internationally publically humiliated your ex-girlfriend when you married your backup singer out of the blue. Talk about being a shit!”
“I married Beesly!”
“The smartest thing you’ve ever done.” I looked at her and smiled. “But you still acted like a total shit.”
“I’ve missed you too, Luce,” Beesly said, breaking her silence. “And Matt, please apologize to my friend,” she coldly commanded him, to his surprise. “Any moment now!”
“I’m sorry, Lucia. That was very rude of me,” he reluctantly said. “Marcus,” He added, slightly bowing his end.
“Matt.”
Beesly stood up to come to me after texting something on her phone. My phone beeped. I checked and read it:
Hey SS! I’m so excited. Kathie told me! The new concept. Can we do “I knew you were the one for me”? Always wanted to record a version of it. Ps: Are we still on for our classic musical
movies marathon this Sunday? Miss ya, your B.
“Sure, sweetie. Anything for you,” I told Beesly as she was walking back toward her husband.
The rest of the week went about the same: Matt trying to pull his usual deceits on us all and Beesly fighting them all back. But this morning, he finally surrendered and even picked a few choices for us to work on. That was a perfect ending to my working week. We might just make that deadline after all.
But I should stop thinking about work. Marcus is still trying to get my attention. He’s now kissing my neck and my hair.
“Luce…I know you’re not asleep anymore,” he whispers in my ear.
I turn around, my eyes still closed. “Well done, Cushion. You woke me up.” I open my sleepy eyes. “What can I do you for?” He checks my body out under the covers and comes back up. “Behave or I’m sending you back home to Johnny,” I tease.
“We both know I don’t know how to do that.” He then kisses me with such passion, I’m already melting.
“Now who’s cheating?” I ask, rising up from the bed and on top of him. “You really have no respect for my beauty rest!” I take my nightgown off, “It’s three a.m. and I have to meet my sister in less than six hours for rehearsals,” I flirt before untying my hair. He likes my hair down and I just like him…a lot. “So…what am I going to do with you, you beautiful, sexy man?”
Marcus lifts me while kneeling on my bed laughing. “Six hours you say? There’s no time to waste.” I tightly hold onto him and lower his face to mine. His musky intoxicating smell, the feel of his body against mine, the way he looks at me…all of it just makes me happy. Marcus is making me happy.
“And where were you last Tuesday, young lady?” Noor asks me while I’m preparing our meal in the kitchen. I put the freshly made brie and salmon quiches in the oven and get started on the walnut apple salad.
“This past Tuesday?” I whip some balsamic vinegar with olive oil. I don’t like to add too much mustard, so just a little before adding salt and pepper. “I went to see a play with Marcus,” I tell her. “Why do you ask?”
“And Wednesday last week?”
I’m not sure where this is going. I’m hosting this gathering for her. It’s an informal bridal shower before the real one hosted by Axelle in a couple of weeks. I plate the salad in six individual bowls. Where was I?
“John took us out to dinner,” I finally tell her. I laugh a little. When Nella is out of town he gets very lonely. I think it’s cute. “What are you up to now?” I ask Noor.
At that moment Beesly walks into my kitchen. “Do you need any help, Luce?”
I smile back to her. My soul sister has once again been left in my care and we have both been loving it. Apparently Matt has acting talent; after the shoot in Vancouver he’s been invited to New York for a few guest starring appearances in a popular show filming there. We’re in talks with them to let them use songs from the album. It would most likely be the first single during the episodes. Our ten-week deadline is almost up and we’re mostly done. That’s the only reason we let Matt go to New York and play actor for the next seven days. We have less than four weeks left but have already re-mastered, recorded and edited a total of seventeen out of twenty songs. With a bit of luck we could finish Beesly’s portions with the G Band this week and the three remaining songs, and record Matt’s once he’s back.
“We’re fine here, B. could you please take the lemonade out of the fridge? Thank you for setting the table in the balcony.”
Beesly moves her now-all-natural hair away from her face. Since Noor’s party, she has been embracing her new less-is-more look and has been featured in quite a few magazines for her new summer look. Today is a perfect example; for a hot but not humid, long, civic holiday Saturday lunch she’s wearing a simple, strapless, hot-pink dress. No makeup; just some very big, turquoise earrings and sandals.
“It should be ready in thirty minutes,” I add before putting the now-covered salad bowls in the fridge. “I’ll toast the bread later for the antipasto plate. We will be right there,” I say before Beesly disappears with the lemonade. “Okay, so what’s eating you now?” I ask Noor.
“Well, let me see. Where have you been for the last month and the one before? I haven’t really seen you since the launch party…in June!”
�
��Oh my God! I’ve been working –” I say. Are we really having this conversation again? I haven’t missed a single status meeting or dance rehearsal for the wedding with Axelle.
“With Marcus. I know. And of course your precious Beesly,” she sulks.
“Okay, before we do this, I have to ask: are you in the dog house again?” The truth about the pre-nuptial finally came out in July and I know things were a bit tense with Andrew, but she told me several times that things were fine now.
“No I’m not; not everything is about sex, Luce!” she pouts. She serves herself a glass of wine. “Then again, maybe it is for you – always with Marcus, day…and night. Are you guys shacking up now?”
So I have been spending a lot of time with Marcus. I’m not sure why this is such a bother to her. She has been so busy with the wedding anyway, which is now about six weeks away.
“I work nearly twelve hours a day to get this album out of the way. And do you know why? So I can go to London with you in four weeks,” I explain, checking on my quiches. “And we’re not shacking up. What gave you that impression?”
“Guess what I found in your bathroom?” Noor says.
Crap! Marcus’ stuff. “Why are going in there anyway? I have a two-piece guest one next to the entrance.”
“Because I’m not a fucking guest!” she overly dramatically shouts. “He’s leaving his personal stuff here now? Why then?”
“So he doesn’t have to go home in the middle of the night or before sunrise. It’s just convenient,” I explain. Why are we having this conversation?
“Do you have things there too?”
Yes, after the hair debacle in June I have a kit of my essential in his en suite or my car.
“Well do you?” she insists.
“I’m not there that much you know,” I cowardly answer.
“Is that a yes?”
“Maybe. What’s with the interrogation? I though you liked Marcus.”
“Luce, you have a boyfriend and you didn’t even tell me? Beesly knew, Axelle knew but not me!”
“No I don’t!” I say. That’s silly. Or is it? We certainly never used that term. It has only been a little less than two months. “Do I?”
This Could Have Been Our Song!: A coulda woulda shoulda ballad Page 13