Falling for his ANGEL_A Rock Star Romance
Page 20
Eliza settled back into mentally planning her trip home to Jonny. It had taken them over a month to get to where she was now, and even though she knew she could retrace their route she was particularly nervous about this last leg. Turkey and now Georgia. Everything seemed alien to her. Linguistically, culturally, geographically.
Then there was the hitchhiking. With Greta it had seemed unsafe, without her petrifying. The train didn’t go as far as the border and on the way there they had hitched a lift with a truck driver. He seemed like a nice guy but Eliza didn’t fancy risking it on her own. Especially with the experience she had just had with the masturbator in the other carriage.
Reminded of him, she looked over her shoulder to see whether he was still there or not. She couldn’t really tell. He was two carriages ahead of the one she had sought sanctuary in and although the track was straight the carriages lurched independently of each other along it.
Shaking her head of that concern, she tried to recall what the other back packers had said about their border crossing. Greta had gone on and on about how much quicker they had been in comparison to the others and how it hadn’t cost them anything. Not even a hand job for the truck driver. The thought of which had never even crossed Eliza’s mind, but sat there quite heavily now.
She seemed to remember them mentioning a taxi, or some such thing, they had used to get to the border in Turkey. Once there they walked through immigration and got another taxi to the nearest Georgian train station. She just couldn’t remember what name they used, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t taxi.
Urghh, she let out a noisy sigh. Why had she got herself into this predicament? she asked for the umpteenth time. How monumentally stupid she had been.
Closing her eyes, she tried again to conjure up a vision of Jonny. One of those perfect days lazing on the beach at their little cove in Ibiza. The sun warming her body, the calming noise of the waves and the satisfaction of lustfully watching her gorgeous tanned man as he emerged from the sea.
She had it all, but chose to throw it away.
There was no way he would have her back. The look of hurt in his innocent eyes was too raw. She would never be able to undo that.
The perfect day, on their perfect beach, with her perfect boyfriend, was gone. Deposited in one of those heart shaped lockers she was so adept at padlocking and losing the key to.
If she was alone right now she would be sobbing, sobbing like the five year old Eliza Van den Berg who lived with her mother and father in Vrijenban, Delft. She bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering.
At the next stop the old woman got off and Eliza shuffled up to the window. Bunching up her scarf on the window, she rested her head against it and dozed off. She decided she would just stay on the train until the final stop wherever it might be. Hopefully it would be Batumi.
She stirred when the train came to a halt at a couple of stops, but didn’t awake fully until she was roused by a ticket collector. She had a small amount of Lari on her and it seemed like it was enough to appease the official, the ticket he gave her in return looked like it got her all the way to Batumi.
At the final stop she got off the train and looked around for any western looking travellers to ask about the private taxi transfer to the border. There was nobody immediately obvious so she made her way to a café she recalled being on the street behind the station.
There was plenty going on in Batumi. Horse pulled carts; battered trucks unsafely laden with livestock; armed soldiers; barefooted children. It was exactly the way she remembered it when she had stopped there with Greta.
She was in luck there was a group of three young Americans in the café. Huddled over a map, they were easy to spot as travellers.
Approaching them confidently and exchanged her experiences of the train journey through Georgia for their knowledge of the Turkish border crossing. She spent a pleasant hour with them drinking the thick black sweet coffee and eating Khachapuri. A local staple comprising a bread crust with molten salty cheese with a raw egg on top. Eliza did as instructed and swirled the egg and a stick of butter around in the cheese until it looked cooked. It was delicious and she needed it. Proper comfort food.
They told her she needed to find a dolmus, or private minibus, to take her to Sarp on the border. Make the crossing on foot and then do the same in Turkey to either Kars or Erzurum. After checking on the train times to the east, the Americans insisted on helping her find a suitable dolmus whilst they waited for their departure time. Eliza was grateful for their generosity.
The border crossing and onward journey to Ankara and then Istanbul went without a hitch. Eliza’s trepidation melting away with each mile.
She had a decision to make once she got to Istanbul: to fly back to Europe or carry on over land. She also need to decide where her end destination was. Ibiza? Amsterdam? London? Her initial thoughts were to fly to Ibiza. Get there as quickly as she could to see Jonny.
She took a taxi from the train station to the airport. One of the many yellow cabs buzzing around the city.
The ride was scary. The taxi driver turned the radio up when Eliza got into the back of his taxi and lit a strong smelling cigarette. It was if he didn’t care much for his fare. He drove unnecessarily fast during the rare ten metre spaces that opened up haphazardly on the multi lane streets. Looking in his rear view mirror and laughing at the obvious terror showing on her face. Flicking the ash from his cigarette out of the open window when he was forced to screech to a halt and squeeze in between the congested melting pot of traffic. She felt vulnerable again.
Out of the cab window she could hear the many loudspeakers of the mosques calling worshippers to prayer. A flashback of the film Midnight Express caused her to shudder and make a mental note of double checking her bag before she went through customs.
After what Eliza suspected was a serious fare adding detour along the Bosphorous, she was dumped at the airport.
There were no direct flights to Ibiza. The route was via Madrid and would take two days. She could, however get a direct flight to Amsterdam.
She went to sit at one of the benches whilst she decided what to do. Exhausted, she couldn't think straight. All she wanted to do was to be with Jonny and he wasn't listed as a destination. She needed some advice. It would be lovely to speak to her aunt but Eliza knew she would be too worried and would definitely ask her to go to Amsterdam. Dirk wasn’t contactable, well not if he was still in Ibiza anyway. Kurt? He was often the voice of reason.
She went to a phone booth and asked directory enquiries to put her through to him. He wasn’t there though. He was in Ibiza. Kurt's now wife, Leesa, tried to explain what had happened and advised Eliza to go to Ibiza as quickly as she could.
Decision made. She bought a ticket to Madrid.
***
In Madrid, Eliza decided to check in to a hotel and get a well needed shower and decent night’s sleep before her onward journey the following day to Ibiza. If she was going to see Jonny she needed to at least smell human.
At the hotel she rang Leesa again to confirm she was going to make the flight and to check if Kurt had rung home as promised. Yes, he had checked in with his daily call and they were all going to pick Eliza up from the airport when she landed.
What Leesa failed to tell Eliza though was that Jonny wasn’t there and nobody seemed to know where he was. In fact, she covered it up. When Eliza asked whether Leesa knew if Jonny would be at the airport to meet her, she just said she didn’t know and that Kurt wasn’t specific about who would be there.
Eliza was nervous as she exited the airport, but it turned to relief when she saw her best friends sat on the bonnet of the hire car across in the car park. She ran over to them and gave them both a big hug, before climbing onto the back seat.
“So where’s Jonny? Didn’t he want to come and meet me?”
Dirk ignored her and repositioned the front passenger seat, to give her more leg room.
Kurt looked at her through the rear view mirror.
“We’ll explain when we get to the villa.”
Kurt slowed down as they approached the villa, and waited for the electric gates to open.
Eliza’s heart dropped in to her stomach. She leant forward between the driver’s and passenger’s seat, as if to double check. “Is this a joke?”
Kurt looked around at her. “What do you mean?”
“Nice isn’t it?” added Dirk.
“No it’s not that Dirk. This is the villa Jonny and I viewed. Do you remember me telling you how excited he had been about it? Asking what we could do to buy it. It was his dream.”
Thoughts of what was going on rushed into her head. She could sense the explanation they had promised her earlier about where Jonny was, was going to get a whole more complicated.
Eliza got up early. It wasn’t even dawn but it was warm and she couldn’t sleep. She poured herself some orange juice and went out to the terrace, looking beyond the sweet smelling bougainvillea towards the sea. The waves below crashing onto the shore. Cicadas playing their tune.
She sat down on the side of the pool and dipped her foot in to it, swirling it round, whilst she contemplated her situation.
Yes, it was fantastic their music was being catapulted into the spotlight. Yes, it was great they were about to make a lot of money. However, it was all overshadowed by Jonny not being there.
Dirk’s revelation about how much Jonny had suffered because of her selfishness in wanting to "find herself" weighed heavily on her.
Stupid. She was just so, so stupid.
She felt like screaming at the top of her voice down to the sea. Equalling its energy.
Needing to release the pent up frustration in physical exercise, she stepped out of the silk kimono and swam until she was exhausted. Feeling light headed she decided to drag herself out before she drowned.
The sun had only appeared a short while ago and was already warm. She laid on the padded sun bed and closed her eyes, rudely awakened when Dirk splashed her dive bombing into the pool. She quickly covered herself with the discarded gown.
“Dirk, you animal!”
Kurt had been in the studio a while already preparing for Eliza to sing over the drum and guitar recordings they had finalised.
Just hearing the bass guitar made her heart ache and she couldn’t find her voice. Just simply couldn’t sing. She’d never had to try before, it just happened, but now it wasn’t there. At all.
“Another day. I’m still tired. I just need another day.”
She knew they were worried about her. They had known her since the first day she had sang with them. They wouldn’t have bought her excuse of just being tired, but they had gone along with it this last week. She wanted to confide in them, to talk about how she felt about Jonny and what she had done to him. She just couldn’t find the right words to explain it to them. Also she didn’t want them to feel obliged to solve the problem for her.
Eliza knew it was serious when she went into the kitchen. Kurt had a notepad and Dirk was fully dressed and drinking water.
“OK Eliza. We need to get this situation sorted.”
“What situation?”
“The Jonny situation.”
“And how are we going to do that?” she asked with a mixture of sarcasm and exasperation.
“We need to come clean with his folks for one.” Dirk threw the water into the sink.
“And if they still haven’t heard from him, then we need to register him as a missing person.” Kurt was tapping his pen on the notepad.
“But what if we find him and he doesn’t want to be part of Karma Life anymore? What if he doesn’t want anything to do with me?”
Dirk put his arm around her shoulders and with unusual sensitivity advised, “Well at least we know he is safe and where we all stand.”
“True.” She had fleetingly wondered if he had run into serious trouble, but something told her he hadn’t. He was out there somewhere. Just where?
Chapter Thirty
The volunteers at the shelter encouraged Jonny every day to get in touch with his family and ask for help. He finally gave in.
“Mum.”
“Oh Jonny. We’ve been worried sick about you. Where are you?”
“Marseille, and there’s no need to worry, I’m fine.”
“France? Marseille in France? We’ve had people ringing for you. We thought you was still in Ibiza.”
“Who’s been ringing?” He braced himself. Not knowing how he would react if it was Eliza.
“First it was a record company. Something about a deal and wanting you to ring them back. I’ve got their number somewhere. Then Kurt. He said he’s in Ibiza with Dirk and Eliza.”
“Eliza?” “Yes. Have you two fallen out or something?”
“Sort of, but don’t worry about it. I’m absolutely fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing in France?”
Jonny looked out of the office window at the queue building up outside the shelter for the regular evening meal service.
“I’m playing with a new band, got a flat and a new girlfriend.” He nearly gagged on the last bit. Swallowing on his lie he continued. “Doing really well actually.”
“OK that’s a relief Jonny. It’s a shame about you and Eliza though. I really thought she was the one Jonny.”
“So did I,” he muttered.
“Oh and Kurt has asked if you can ring him. Have you got a pen so you can take down the number? I’ll give you the record company’s number too.”
“Sure,” he lied.
“Are you coming to see us soon?”
“Erh, yeah. Next month maybe.”
“That would be nice Jonny. Let me know when and we’ll get all the family together.”
“Will do. Look I’ve gotta go mum.”
“OK Jonny. Ring soon.”
He hung up before the tears that were brimming overflowed. Speaking to his mum made the loneliness feel worse. Then there was the question about why Kurt was ringing for him and not Eliza? If she had wanted him back she would have rung. Wouldn’t she? It was all still too raw. He didn’t want to see any of them.
***
He had managed to hang onto his guitar all the way through Spain and decided to do some impromptu busking outside the train station in Marseilles. He wanted to play, it had been something he had done for so long now and he was missing it. Also he had seen some of the other shelter occupants come back from various forms of busking with plenty of Francs. From what he had seen it would be enough to keep him in cigarettes and alcohol anyway.
The audiences at Jonny’s regular spot next to the flower seller, grew day by day and whenever they became noticeable the police moved him on.
There was one song that received more donations in his guitar case than any other. Samsara.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jonny’s mum fed back the news to Kurt. Eliza still couldn’t pluck up the courage to speak to them. He was in Marseille but sounded fine. Settled in a flat and with a new band. Planning to come to the UK at next month, just as soon as there was a gap in his busy gig schedule. He had promised to ring Kurt as soon as he could.
Eliza didn’t buy it. She couldn’t put her finger on it but something didn’t stack up. A flat? A new band already?
Dirk and Kurt told her to let it go, but she couldn’t. When he hadn’t rung Kurt by the end of the week she knew none of it was true.
Karma Life had finished their new album. The music video for Samsara had been shot at Eliza and Jonny’s cove in Ibiza. Wildly, she hoped that there would be a miracle and he would turn up whilst they were filming. Instead it turned into an emotionally charged performance. The intensity conveyed onto the film that was heralded as a masterpiece in musical interpretation.
They hung on as long as they could in Ibiza but Jonny didn’t appear, or get in touch.
Eliza tried to accept that Jonny was gone from her life, but no matter what plans were laid in front of he
r she couldn’t reconcile a future without him.
They stopped off at Island Properties on the way to Ibiza Town.
“Make sure the tenants look after it,” she ordered as she handed the keys over to the agent.
Dirk and Kurt were going back to Amsterdam but Eliza had other plans. She was chartering a yacht. In less than three days she would be in Marseille. Eliza had no idea where to start looking for Jonny in Marseille. Dirk would have come with her if she had asked, but he might also have talked her out of the whole crazy idea. She told him she was having a vacation alone, sailing for a few days in the Mediterranean to get over the emotion of the last few months.
Once in Marseille she took a taxi to the local radio station. She had arranged to be interviewed and with Karma Life being one of the hottest bands in Europe right now, they were keen to have her on the show.
After answering the usual questions about Karma Life and their music, they asked why she was in Marseille.
“I’m looking for a friend. He’s English. A guitarist that plays rock music and he wrote our latest hit song.”
“And do you have a message for your friend if he’s listening?”
“That his angel knows what love is and their fate cannot be ignored.” She asked them to play Samsara.
Within seconds, they received a call. Someone had seen the guy she was looking for. Busking outside the train station. They were sure it was him. They recognised the song he played every morning.
Eliza felt sick to the pit of her stomach.
She declined the offer of the radio station to take her there. The last thing she wanted was a reunion to be recorded on air. Especially if it was an unpleasant one.
She got out of the taxi and crossed the road to the train station.
She froze.
The rest of the pedestrians on the pavement continued past her. Shoving her from left to right like a pinball.
Paralysed.
She couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t blink.
Jonny never looked up from his guitar when he was busking. He didn’t feel the shame that way. If he looked at his guitar he could imagine he was anywhere. In his bedroom alone. In a stadium with thousands of adoring fans. In a studio with Eliza. This time however, he felt compelled to look up.