Dear Neighbor

by River Laurent

  I lean back to admire my efforts.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he asks, his eyes alive with excitement.

  ‘The Ministry Of Sound,’ I say with a grin. I’ve been wanting to go there ever since I arrived in this country.

  We sneak out the back of the building and hail a passing black cab. There is a long queue of people that snakes around the building and we join it. Cash looks impatient. I realize he never has to wait in a line to go anywhere. No matter where he goes, he is ushered in immediately and taken to the roped off VIP sections.

  I don’t think he enjoys the experience of waiting in line. Welcome to the real world. Even worse, when we get to the entrance I drop my bag and while I am on the ground picking up my lipstick the bouncers tell Cash that he cannot come in. They don’t consider him hip enough to enter their club! But when I straighten they tell me I can go in.

  I tell them I am with Cash, and after a brief hesitation they let us both in. I cannot stop laughing at the expression on Cash’s face. He looks shell shocked. He has NEVER been refused entry anywhere. Inside it is the same, no one rushes to serve him, hangs on his every word, or pesters him for autographs. I think he might have secretly hated it at first being so thoroughly ignored, but after a while he really gets into his anonymity.

  He can behave any way he wants without worrying about it getting into the news, and the way he behaves is to almost have sex with me on the dance floor. We drink, we dance, we laugh, we talk and simply enjoy being with each other. Just like any other normal couple in a club.

  When we get tired we sit on the massive speakers with a group of other revelers. We sit with our shoulders touching and our legs dangling as we talk to the others. They are ordinary people, really nice and without airs. The talk is light and easy.

  They offer us pills they claim are ‘fantastic’, but both of us refuse. We are on a natural high that is difficult to beat with chemicals. They seem pretty out of it, but they are friendly. They tell us they are from Italy and that they are working in one of the restaurants in Chelsea. One of the girls actually tells Cash that he should shave off his beard because he looks a bit like Cash Hunter.

  ‘You know what? I think she could be right,’ I say peering intently into Cash’s face.

  ‘No,’ Cash says modestly.

  ‘Si,’ she says. ‘You must shave. You will be, how do you say, un bell’uomo.’

  ‘A handsome man,’ her boyfriend, the chef, supplies.

  ‘Do you like Cash Hunter?’ I ask her.

  ‘Siiiiii,’ she says. ‘I love him.’ She shakes her head in admiration. ‘He is too beautiful.’

  Her boyfriend catches my eyes and twirls his index finger at the side of his head. ‘She is mad,’ he says.

  ‘Why is she mad? I like him too,’ Rosella, the waitress, admits defiantly.

  Her boyfriend shakes his head in exasperation.

  I look at Cash. ‘Me too. I’m crazy for him too.’

  ‘Are you trying to make me jealous?’ Cash asks.

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  Then Stefano, the single guy in the group, comes up to us with seven bottles of beer and the conversation moves to other things.

  When we are leaving, Cash pulls four tickets to his concert in Milan from his back pocket.

  ‘Best seats in the house. If you don’t want to go, sell them on the internet. They’re worth £200.00 each,’ he says.

  While they are still staring at the tickets dumbfounded, we slip away. Outside it is already light. It is four in the morning but, we are both wide awake. Taxi touts call out to us.

  ‘Should we take one of them?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, let’s go eat something in Soho,’ he says with the excitement of a little boy.

  I gaze up at him, so happy I think I will burst.

  We sit in a Chinese restaurant eating lobster with ginger and egg fried rice. We smooch and his moustache falls into his rice. He picks it up with his chopsticks and puts it back on his face covered in rice and makes a funny face. I laugh so much my stomach hurts. In the taxi back I fall asleep on Cash’s chest. He wakes me up just around the corner from the Hunter residence. I open my eyes, look into his eyes and breathily whisper his name in surprise. ‘Cash.’ Then I remember where I am.

  ‘Come on, I’ll walk you to the front door,’ he says.

  I stand for a moment on the sidewalk. It is nearly half five and there is a man walking his dog. I think neither of us wanted the night to end. I look around us. Then I say, ‘Sleep well.’

  ‘Go on. I’ll wait until you get in and close the door.’

  I stand in front of him, desperately not wanting the night to end. I never want to forget this night.

  ‘It’s been a beautiful night. Can I take a picture of you like this?’ I ask.

  He gets into odd poses for me and laughing I snap a few shots.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ I say.

  ‘See you later,’ he says.

  I peck him on the cheek and run up the stairs. I open the door, step inside, and wave to him.

  ‘By the way I forgot to tell you your nose looks ridiculous,’ I say.

  He touches his fake nose and laughs. I close the door and lean against it. Christ, I am so in love.

  Time seems to pass so quickly. Before I know it, Cash is telling me that he is leaving for Milan in the morning.

  ‘I would have preferred if you were coming with me,’ he says.

  ‘I’ll come with Britney later in the morning as we agreed. Anyway, you’ll be at rehearsals and sound checks and you won’t have time for me.’

  He scowls. ‘I’ll allow it this time, but I swear if you don’t tell Britney soon I’m going to have to tell her myself. A) I think it’s bullshit that Britney will care either way. B) if she does care she’ll just have to get over it. I love my sister, but there’s no way I’m going to let her meddle in my affairs.’

  ‘I’ll tell her after her birthday party, okay?’ I promise.

  He doesn’t know that I’m just buying time. I need to tell him about me, but I’m afraid it would ruin everything so I keep putting it off.

  ‘You better,’ he says with a frown, ‘because I want everyone to know you’re mine.’

  ‘Really, I’m yours?’ I ask innocently.

  ‘All mine. Every last inch.’

  ‘Act like it then,’ I say with a wink.

  So he does.

  Tori

  ‘Are you ready, Brit?’ I ask, knocking on her bedroom door. Britney is always late. I hope she has at least finished packing.

  ‘Come in,’ she calls. Her voice sounds stressed.

  I turn the handle and go in. Her room looks like a bomb hit it. There are clothes and shoes all over the bed and floor.

  ‘What the hell, Brit? We’re going for one day!’ I exclaim incredulously.

  ‘I know. I know, but I couldn’t decide what to wear. If I take all the clothes and shoes I could conceivably want, then I eliminate the possibility of being devastated that the thing I want to wear is actually back in England,’ she explains with mind-boggling logic.

  ‘Right,’ I say, blinking slowly. ‘Can we establish that you have got everything you could conceivably want, and that it is safe to close your suitcase and take it downstairs?’

  ‘I believe so. However, I’ve still got to dash into the shower first.’

  ‘OK, quickly, please. Victor will be here in ten minutes,’ I appeal, deliberately increasing the urgency in my voice.

  ‘Don’t worry, he’ll wait,’ she says coolly.

  ‘I’ll be in my room,’ I say and leave her.

  On my bed is my knapsack. I have only packed two changes of clothing and I haven’t taken anything for the concert since Brit and I are going shopping as soon as we get to Milan.

  I walk to the window and look out. The street is unusually quiet and I suddenly feel a little sad. I’ve not heard from Cash since last night as he caught his flight whilst we were all asleep. I sent him a warm text when I woke up this m
orning telling him how excited I was, how much I looked forward to meeting him in Milan and seeing him perform. I guess I expected a text back, something, anything, but nothing.

  I feel a dull unease in my stomach, but I tell myself obviously, he would have been terribly busy. Maybe he slept on the flight, and then he will no doubt have been mobbed at the hotel by hordes of screaming teenage girls. From there the band members would have been driven to the stadium for their rehearsals.

  A horrible thought suddenly enters my head.

  What if it is not the wonderful, funny, beautiful man who seduced me so wickedly who meets me in Milan, but Cash Hunter the Sex God and Bad Boy? What if he is different? What if I am just another girl he had sex with and he has already moved on? The thought disturbs me, but I quickly reassure myself that all will be fine. I shouldn’t be so insecure.

  I turn around quickly when I hear Britney’s voice split the still air of the house. Mr. Hunter is out and only Cora is in.

  ‘I need help Tori, I can’t close my suitcase,’ she cries, standing in her bathrobe, her hair still wet.

  ‘Don’t worry. Leave it to me,’ I say automatically.

  A real struggle ensues, but I overpower her suitcase by sitting on it and pressing down the edges and getting Britney to push down on the locks. She claps her hands in appreciation.

  ‘Come on, Brit. Dry your hair and get dressed,’ I urge.

  ‘Yes, mam,’ she says cheekily.

  Just as she switches on the hairdryer, the doorbell chimes. I run to the window and see the car parked on the street below.

  ‘Victor is already outside,’ I shout over the sound of the hairdryer.

  ‘Your ride’s here. Are you girls ready?’ Cora yells from the bottom of the stairs.

  I quickly run to the top of the stairs and scream, ‘Coming,’ and return to rush Britney along. Finally, after her hair is dried and she has flung on some casual clothes, she stands over her suitcase moaning that the case is too heavy to carry. I have a go and even I can barely shift it.

  I tell her to wait in the bedroom whilst I quickly take my stuff downstairs to the car and ask the driver if he’d mind carrying Britney’s suitcase from upstairs as it’s too heavy for us. Immediately Victor leaves his seat and goes upstairs.

  ‘Have a lovely time, won’t you?’ Cora says to me.

  ‘I’m sure I will,’ I reply as Britney comes down with the driver who looks like he totally underestimated the weight of the case as his face is beetroot red and he’s breathing rather heavily.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Britney says as he opens the boot.

  I offer to help but, being a man, he refuses and manfully manages on the second clean lift to get it to his chest and into the boot. I wave bye to Cora who’s standing at the door, arms folded and smiling. Britney has already taken her seat inside as the driver goes to the front and I jump in the rear next to Britney.

  ‘I hope I haven’t forgotten anything?’ she says in a questioning voice.

  ‘So what if you did?’ I say, turning to her. ‘That would only make our trip into an adventure,’ I say with a grin.

  She wrinkles her nose. ‘An adventure? How quaint, but yes, I suppose it could be an adventure.’ She touches my arm. ‘I’m really glad you’re not jaded, Tori. Everybody I know would have made a point of pretending how tedious it all was, but you, you just see everything as if it is an exciting gift.’

  ‘To be honest I still can’t believe I’m going to Milan on a private jet,’ I say excitedly.

  ‘Oh, you’ll enjoy it, Tori, it’s really quite the biz. I’ve flown a few times with Cash on his jet and flying commercial simply doesn’t come close after you’ve flown private,’ she says, her voice animated and cheerful.

  I grin happily at her. It is wonderful to see how much she has changed, from spoilt and childish to this happy, joyful young lady.

  An hour later we arrive at Docklands city airport and our driver pulls up alongside a gleaming silver Embraer Legacy 500 private jet with its door open, a smiling air hostess standing in it. Just like in the movies.

  Britney giggles when she sees my gobsmacked reaction. ‘It’s just a plane Tori.’

  ‘Just a plane?’ I exclaim as Victor opens her door.

  ‘Close your mouth,’ she says and yanks me out after her.

  A man takes our bags and Britney runs up the steps pulling me along as a gust of wind almost blows me off the last one. Inside we are welcomed and shown into the sumptuous cabin. I drop my body into the plush seat and it’s like falling into a luxurious bed. Britney has taken the seat opposite me and she’s laughing at the dazed shock on my face. I laugh at her and then the star treatment starts. Hot towels, followed by pink champagne and a platter of delicious canapés.

  ‘My God, Britney your brother is a gem. This is just so awesome.’

  Britney raises her glass. ‘To us having a fabulous time.’

  We clink glasses. ‘To a fabulous time,’ I echo.

  ‘Yay,’ she yells happily. ‘We’re going to have a brilliant time. I just know it.

  I take a sip of the chilled bubbly and lie back. ‘Mmmm.’

  Soon the champagne and the fantastic service put me in a relaxed mood. Brit is playing Candy Crush on her mobile and I close my eyes and let my mind wander away to Cash and wonder what he’s doing now. The next thing I know Britney is shaking me enthusiastically. ‘We’re here Tori! We’re here!’

  ‘What?’ I ask, confused.

  ‘Look out, we’re above Milan,’ she says.

  I pull back my shutter and the bright sunlight temporarily stuns me before I see that she is right, we are just over Milan.

  ‘It looks amazing,’ I say as the pilot announces that we’re preparing to descend. Britney reaches over for my hand and holds it tightly in hers. A few minutes later, touchdown. Milano.

  Tori

  As we are about to disembark, one of the cabin crew comes to talk to us. ‘You have had a message from Mrs. Knowles, Mr. Hunter’s secretary, to let you know that she has arranged for a driver who speaks English. He’ll take you wherever you want to go and will wait for you. Please don’t go anywhere without him.’

  ‘Cool,’ I say.

  We thank the rest of the crew as we exit the plane and step into the glorious sunshine. Even though it is only eleven in the morning it’s already very hot. Our passports are checked then we walk to a black Mercedes idling on the tarmac.

  ‘Welcome to Milano,’ the driver says as we reach the car. ‘I am Fabio and I will look after you during your stay here.’

  ‘Ciao, Fabio,’ Britney greets cheerily and slips elegantly into the door he holds open for her. I get in on the other side. He walks over to the front, gets in, and turns around to pass us both cards with his cell number. ‘Telephone me when you wish to go anywhere or if you need me, Signorine,’ he says.

  We murmur our thanks, and he puts the car into motion. It’s only then I hear my phone ping and eagerly retrieve it from my bag. My heart races as I read the text.

  Hey Wildcat. Been thinking about u nonfuckingstop. My dick’s going wild & I’m feeling cocky. So consider yourself warned. Buy something dead sexy for tonight. C u later. x

  Britney sees the wide smile on my face and turns to me with an inquiring look. ‘Someone’s made you happy,’ she says.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say.

  Barely able to contain my happiness, I lie back and watch the sun-drenched countryside pass us by. An hour later we turn into the fabulous pillars that straddle the entrance of the Hotel Principe di Savoia.

  ‘Wow, it’s breathtaking,’ I gush.

  ‘I know and I can’t wait to see our rooms.’

  The driver drops us off at the main entrance and we go inside the massive foyer with its fabulous centerpiece waterfall. At the reception desk we are welcomed by a sultry Italian brunette and told that we have a suite on the top floor. She also passes a white envelope with both Britney’s and my name on it.

  ‘OMG! It’ll be so much fun, we h
ave our own suite together,’ Britney squeals as I open the envelope.

  ‘What’s in the envelope?’ she asks.

  ‘Our stage passes and … a letter,’ I reply.

  ‘What does it say?’ she asks peering over my shoulder and reading the letter.

  ‘For a few seconds there is silence as we read the letter, then Britney is doing a happy dance right there in the posh foyer that positively smells of big money.

  ‘Ha, ha, ha, I can’t believe it. Cash asked Mrs. Knowles to open accounts for us in Fendi, Prada, Moschino, Gucci and Versace. We can buy whatever we want to,’ she sings.

  ‘Mrs. Knowles is really efficient,’ I say in a hushed voice. I’ve never been so spoilt in all my life.

  ‘Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant we’re all organized,’ Britney says as a bellboy approaches us and takes us to the top floor. Our suite is a to-die-for mixture of classical elegance and modern contemporary. Britney claims the bedroom overlooking the street and I take the one overlooking the garden and pool. The bathrooms are stunning with pink marble and Jacuzzi whirlpool baths. I throw myself on the bed and think of Cash. I can’t wait to see him later.

  ‘What do you want to do now, Brit?’ I shout across the room. ‘We have six hours before we need to leave for the stadium.’

  ‘Shopping obviously,’ she says appearing at my doorway. ‘What else is there to do in Milan? We’ll hit the shops on Mrs. Knowles’ list.’

  I call the driver and we find ourselves in the Quadrilatero d'Oro (Rectangle of Gold). We visit so many shops that I lose count. For the most part I stare in awe at the beauty, the design brilliance, and the incredible choice I see on display in Milan. Bright colors, classic lines.

  Britney buys a striped trouser outfit at Fendi and a really cute dress at Moschino. She also finds a luscious snakeskin bag at Gucci and a pair of boots at Prada. I find the perfect buy in Versace. A leopard print, tight, velvet mini-dress with a high collar. The sales assistant, a gay man with very beautiful eyes, then suggests a pair of shoes that I would never have thought of wearing with my print dress. A black Medusa tri-strap platform. I put them on and stand.