But to other people, I justified my lack of serious relationships by complaining about the quality of men. Men these days didn’t want anything serious and wanted to keep their options open with other women, but of course, they wanted the bedroom perks of being in a serious relationship. It was a tough place out there for decent girls. Especially ones as naïve as I was. I couldn’t always tell when a guy was just saying something romantic to try to get me into bed. I was idealistic and always believed the best of everyone I had met, until they proved otherwise and were promptly cut out of my life. I didn’t even bother getting angry or yelling. I didn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing I cared enough to be upset. I would just completely cut off all communication, which I liked to think annoyed them even more. One day I was there; the next day, I wasn’t.
I had only experienced one brief run-in with love in my life. I was sixteen years old, and he was my guitar teacher for one year. Remy. He was a University exchange student from France, and I would go to his campus residence at the University of Texas at San Antonio. My lessons were on Thursday evenings, but I would walk past the campus residence nearly every day, just hoping to bump into him.
He had a small studio apartment in residence, and it was filled with textbooks and covered in posters. They weren’t your typical ‘guy’ posters, though. He had posters of human anatomy, brains, nasal cavities, and skeletal systems; it was like being in a doctor’s office. I didn’t notice how strange it was at the time, but thinking back, he was an engineering student, not in medical studies. Nevertheless, he was older, smarter, and far more cultured than I was. That both attracted and intimidated me. He wasn’t charming at all; he didn’t really say much of anything. In fact, he wasn’t even that attractive, thinking back to his lanky body and mushroom haircut, but he had kind eyes. The kindest eyes. And with every compliment he gave me like “good technique”, “nice rhythm”, and “strong strumming”, I fell further into our fantasy love affair.
I suppose he didn’t notice, or he didn’t want to notice. And on our final lesson, before he flew back to France at the end of the semester, I played a song for him that I had secretly written. I had practiced the song for weeks, if not months. But my fingers were clammy and slippery, and my voice was quivering as I played it for him that night. Thinking back on it, I was sure the song was full of teenage yearning and wanting what you can’t have. I looked up at him after, and he smiled politely with his kind eyes. Did he realize the song was about him? Did he know that I loved him?
He didn’t let on, either way. And it certainly didn’t stop him from saying ‘au revoir’ and boarding a plane back to France. Our goodbye was brief and cordial, with an empty hug and a false smile. I closed the door to his residence with a sigh and carried my guitar home. Was it love? Maybe not, but it certainly felt tragic enough to be.
SEVENTEEN
“After you, my dear,” Rex said, as he opened the doors to Beatrice & Woodsley, one of the finest restaurants in the south of Denver.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” I replied. I looked around the restaurant in amazement. There were aspen trees growing tall throughout the dining area, wooden floors, and cedar arches. It was like we had walked into a big tree house. “This is unreal.”
“I am glad you like it. I asked Johnny and Clive to research and find me the most romantic restaurant around.”
We walked past the doormen, and the hostess led us to our private table. It had sheer hanging white linen that acted as an intimate partition. The restaurant was surprisingly not busy for a Saturday night. Rex politely pulled out my chair, and I sat down as he rounded the table to sit across from me. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a red tie. Without his baseball cap, I could clearly see his face. His hair was styled with some extra height and texture at the front tonight, and his blue eyes were sparkling.
“You are looking rather dapper tonight. What happened to the American disguise?” I asked and looked around the room. “And where are your bodyguards?”
“I gave them the night off,” he replied. “Or I may have snuck out of the hotel...”
“Rex! They will alert the police if they think you are missing! It will be an international drama!”
“Fine, fine. I will text them to let them know I am alright. Besides, I haven’t been recognized here for the last week. I think I am in the clear.”
“If you say so.” It was true, though. I hadn’t seen a photographer follow him around since my gig. I scanned the menu, trying to find something delicious I could eat, but it actually came down to me trying to find something I could pronounce.
The waitress arrived to take our order.
“We will share a bottle of your Pinot Noir from the Crémant de Loire,” Rex recited confidently, making his noble pedigree apparent. “We will share the ‘Ragout de Moules’ for an appetizer, and I will have the ‘Artichoke Cassoulet’. And for the lady…”
“I will have the catfish, please,” I said and blushed. “Sorry, I’m still a southern girl.”
“That’s why you are one-of-a-kind,” Rex winked at me, and the waitress left us alone at the table.
“So I wanted to ask you,” I said, trying to remember the questions I had for him. “Why are you in Denver, what do you plan on doing for the rest of your trip, and when do you return to England?” I blurted out my list of questions without pausing for a breath.
“Whoa, all of these questions. You know that I hate exams, right?” he laughed. “I didn’t expect a Spanish Inquisition.” He raised both of his eyebrows.
“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition,” I joked, quoting the famous Monty Python skit. We both laughed. Rex laid the table napkin across his legs. I did the same.
“To answer your first question, I am here to attend an art event on behalf of my father. To answer your third question, I am heading back to England in a couple of weeks,” he explained. “And to answer your second question, I plan on spending a lot of time with an effervescent young lady I met in Denver.”
“Is that right? Tell me more about this young lady.”
“Well, let’s see here… she has a spine-tingling singing voice. She has these big, beautiful eyes, long eyelashes, and delicate features, but you know, she has these unusually bushy eyebrows, almost like a caveman… or a gorilla.”
“I do not!” I laughed. “My eyebrows are perfectly normal and well-groomed, I’ll have you know.”
Just then, the waitress returned with two wine glasses and the bottle. She poured the wine into Rex’s glass to create a shallow red pool, and allowed him to taste it. He swirled the wine around in the glass, held his nose over it, and then took a sip. He nodded to the waitress, and she finished filling his glass and mine.
“So you are allowed to stay here for such a long time? Don’t you have duties back home?” I asked, taking a sip of the wine.
“I am allowed to go on holiday. Besides, the media can’t help but focus on me and my wayward life lately. It is perfect tea-table gossip. It seems like everyone else is getting married and having babies, and I am the irresponsible dud who can’t even find a girlfriend,” he explained.
“Somehow I don’t think that you have that much difficulty with the ladies,” I replied. I was nervously running my fingers up and down the stem of my glass. Oh gosh, stop that, Rose. He was going to think I was giving him dirty hand signals.
“You would be surprised. Not many women are willing to take on the responsibility of being in the public eye. It is quite an undertaking,” he explained. “And unfortunately, I am drawn to girls with free spirits. Free thinkers. Girls who wouldn’t want to be muted or stifled by rules and traditions,” Rex paused for a moment and took a sip of wine. “Maybe I need to change my type, hmm?”
“No way. Never settle for anything less. Marriage lasts a long time, and you don’t want to be unhappy for the rest of your life. When the right girl comes along, everything will click into place,” I said encouragingly. “When you know, you know.”
“I l
ike that. When you know, you know,” he repeated, as he ran his fingers around the rim of his glass. Now was he giving me dirty hand signals?
“Your previous girlfriends, Esme and Trinny,” I started. “Were they not up to the challenge?”
“Ahh, time for the ‘ex talk’, is it?” Rex joked. “Well, they both have said thanks, but no thanks, as it were. Esme was not particularly fond of the media attention, and Trinny… well, she is so young that she needs to find out who she really is before she can dive into a serious relationship.”
“I see,” I said, and started to wonder how I compared to his beautiful, well-bred ex-girlfriends. I had seen pictures of Rex with these girls during my late-night google investigation. They seemed to have what it takes to be in the spotlight. Always impeccably dressed and poised.
“The relationships may have worked out, given a bit more time,” he explained, “but the media puts an intense pressure on the situation. The status. Are they on or off? So they each made a decision, and I completely understand. I am on good terms with both of them.”
“Oh, that is good,” I replied, trying to sound as pleased as you can when a guy told you he was still good friends with his ex-girlfriends.
“What about you, Rose? Are there any big, strong ex-boyfriends lurking around the corners, waiting to club me over the head? Should I be worried?”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I replied. “I have lived a pretty tame life. Who needs a man to sweep me off my feet when I have music to whisk me away? Besides, with the life of an aspiring singer, I probably wouldn’t be a great girlfriend.”
“Oh, I am sure you would have some redeeming qualities,” he said. “And talents.”
I smiled, and he smiled back, envisioning what my many ‘talents’ were, I was sure. My train of thought was broken, as the waitress arrived with our dishes. We started to eat right away. I made sure to cut my catfish into tiny, lady-like pieces and dab my mouth with my napkin often.
“So what is this art event about?” I asked after swallowing my first bite of cat-fish.
“It is an art appreciation dinner in Boulder. There will be famous artists from all over the world. My father was invited as a guest of honour, along with a plus one. He can’t make it, but they were more than happy to accept me in his place to do the speech. It will be a great night. You would probably enjoy it,” he replied. “Can you come over beforehand, and you can help me with my speech?”
“Sure, what night is the event on?” I asked. Wow, he was going to take me as his official plus one to this big event? Maybe he did have serious feelings for me.
“It is on Monday night. The day after tomorrow,” he said, while cutting his chicken. “I would appreciate your help with the speech, since you are such a talented lyricist.”
“I would love to help, but you probably don’t want your speech to rhyme like my songs.”
“It could rhyme, but I don’t know if I can really pull off the gangster rapper vibe,” he replied, while trying to throw some sloppy gang signs with his hands.
We both laughed at his lack of swagger and finished our meals. The waitress came to fetch our dinner plates. She showed us the dessert menu and gave us time to decide.
“Would you like to share something?” Rex asked.
“Sure. What tickles your fancy tonight?”
Rex scanned the dessert menu and let out a few tasty exclamations. “Mmm, do you fancy the dark chocolate cake? Ooo, or the caramel pear pie?”
“The chocolate cake sounds much more appetizing. Why did they have to ruin the caramel pie by adding pears? Blegh,” I said.
“Oh, you don’t like fruit?”
“I like fruit. Sure, I do. But there is a time and a place for fruit, and it’s certainly not during my indulgent dessert! Bring on chocolate, caramel, cinnamon, and, hey, even a little vanilla. But don’t try to sneak fruits and veggies in there.”
Rex chuckled. “Alright, the lady has spoken. Chocolate cake it is. I have never heard such strong feelings towards fruit in dessert before.”
“That is what makes me one-of-a-kind, I think.” I winked and smiled playfully, thinking of myself as quite the comedian.
Rex gazed at me, with a sparkle in his eye, and finally asked, “If I could have one wish in the world, do you know what it would be?”
“Hmm… would it be to invent a day that goes between Saturday and Sunday?”
“Well, that would be a glorious wish, but no,” Rex laughed, but his face turned serious as he looked into my eyes. “I would wish that I could see that beautiful smile of yours every day.”
“Ohh, thank you,” I blushed, and naturally, I smiled again. Was this just all part of Rex’s notorious charisma? Was this part of the ‘putting on a good show’ that he told me about? I stopped myself right there and decided to stop thinking, questioning, and analyzing, and did something I rarely did – I let go and enjoyed the moment, submerging my mind in the romantic fantasy that Rex was orchestrating.
We were interrupted by the waitress once again. We ordered dessert and coffees, and it soon arrived at our table with extra chocolate drizzle and two forks. We ate the cake slowly, enjoying every mouthful.
“There was something I wanted to ask you, Rose,” Rex said softly.
“Oh?” I replied. I tried to imagine what he could possibly ask. Would I officially be his girlfriend? Would I move to London with him? Would I promptly remove the chocolate smudges from all over my face?
“I wanted to know,” he continued as his face became flushed, “if I could kiss you.”
I smiled instantly and knew the answer in my head was ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ but I coyly replied, “Sure.”
He leaned over the table and gently touched my chin with his hand to guide me to his lips. I closed my eyes as our lips touched. It was a tender, teasing kiss that was soft and slow, and I knew that we were both fully in the moment, feeling every curvature and movement of the other’s lips. After our lips parted, we nuzzled our foreheads together like lions. I made a fake purring sound and he said, “You’re completely bonkers, you are,” he laughed. “And I love it.” He slowly moved back into his seat, and we looked into each other’s eyes. We both knew that we wanted more.
My head was still dizzy from the kiss, and I could barely think, let alone speak. There was a lot of anticipation leading up to that kiss, and it was more mind-blowing than I had imagined. I couldn’t wait to kiss him again.
The waitress came back with our bill and Rex paid. We lingered in the restaurant to finish our coffees, and we talked and laughed about our life stories. I couldn’t believe that he had visited Kenya to start an art charity for children. He believed that art made the world a better place, and he wanted to inspire the children in small towns along the coast like Lamu, Malindi, and Mombasa. He set up art centres, taught adults how to instruct art to children, and provided art supplies. He sometimes went without a shower for weeks. He was determined to carry on his mother’s charitable legacy. I could hardly compete with his stories of Africa, but he was surprised to hear that I once won a prize at a singing competition to meet Elton John in Houston when I was 14 years old. Rex explained that Elton was a dear friend of his parents, and he had the pleasure of meeting him and seeing him perform on many occasions. Suddenly, I saw lights flashing from outside the restaurant.
“What on earth is that flashing?” I asked shockingly.
Rex looked out the window, as the flashing continued. “One moment. I will take care of this.”
As he moved the sheer linen and walked towards the exit, I could see silhouettes of men outside the window. The lights continued to flash. It must have been photographers. He had mentioned earlier that the paparazzi mostly followed him at night. I watched from the table, as Rex stepped outside towards the men. I could see them talking back and forth. It did not look friendly, but the flashing lights stopped. Rex turned his back on the men and headed back to the restaurant, when one man yelled something to Rex. Rex quickly turned around,
and in an instant, he lunged towards the man and swung his arm, barely missing the photographer’s face. The doormen jumped in to hold Rex back, but he was still determined to get to the man.
At that point, I leapt out of my chair and ran towards the exit. There was a cab waiting on the road, and the doormen led Rex into the backseat. “Show some respect!” Rex yelled back at the photographers.
“I’m his friend. I’m his friend!” I said, as I joined him in the back of the cab.
The cab started to drive away. I looked over at Rex. His eyes were rimmed with anger and anxiety. He lowered his head into his hands and was silent. I looked out the window and let the muffled radio fill the empty air for the rest of the drive.
EIGHTEEN
“Ahhh,” I sighed, as I rolled over in bed and blocked the sun with my duvet to try to continue sleeping. I enjoyed a few moments of sleepy peaceful bliss as I drifted between stages of consciousness. I stretched my body completely from my head to toes and smiled. The bliss lasted for a few seconds, until a whirlwind of flashbacks from last night blasted through my mind and instantly tied my stomach in knots. Vivid pictures flickered through my mind – the flashing lights, the yelling, the attack, the anger in Rex’s eyes. I felt sick. I had never seen that side of Rex before. And I did not like it.
It was almost as if he had transformed or become possessed. I wondered what the photographer yelled before Rex attacked. It was as if he had flicked a switch and pushed Rex past the point of no return. Even when it was just us riding home in the cab, he didn’t say a word to me. He didn’t even look up when I got out at my building. He had turned off. He wasn’t Rex anymore. I had to admit it; whoever he was last night, scared me.
A Kiss and a Cuddle Page 7