A Kiss and a Cuddle
Sophie Sloane
Copyright © 2014 by Sophie Sloane
The moral right of Sophie Sloane to be identified as the author of the work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. The use of any or part of this publication, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system without the prior written consent of the author is an infringement of the copyright law.
A Kiss and a Cuddle is a work of fiction. Apart from the well-known actual people, events, and locales that figure into the narrative, all names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to current events or locales, or to living persons, is entirely coincidental.
Cover art by Lauren Burke.
For my fellow hopeful and hopeless Romantics in the world.
ONE
“This is Reggie Murphy here, and you are listening to The Party 95.7 FM. We have a special treat for our Denver listeners today: please welcome Rose West to the show,” the DJ spoke smoothly into his microphone and smiled at me from across the table. “Hi Rose, how are you today?”
“I’m great!” I replied a little too excitedly into the microphone. I smiled and breathed outward. “Thank you for having me on your show, Reggie.”
“It is our pleasure. So Rose, you are releasing a new album in a few weeks. Your Denver fans loved your last album. Can they expect the same Rose, or is this album different?”
“I am constantly trying to evolve my art-form, but I will always be the same Rose with strong vocals, heartfelt lyrics, and a bit of twang, but not too much,” I replied with a smirk.
“Sounds great. We can’t wait to hear your new songs that you sing with such passion. Now, I’m going to use that as the perfect segue to ask you about Derek Rockson. Is it true that there is a bit of passion between you two? I mean, it would be perfect – a superstar singing duo!” He bit his lip, knowing that he caught me off-guard with the romantic question.
“Derek Rockson? I mean, no…” I stumbled on my words and sounded rather unconvincing. “We are best friends, and he will always have a place in my heart, but the rumors are not true. Sorry, I’m not providing any juice here!” I hoped that Derek wasn’t listening to the radio interview, as it probably still sounded like a public rejection, despite me trying to be as kind as possible.
“Well to the listeners out there, you heard the truth from Rose West herself, but the sparkle in her eye when she mentioned his name tells me otherwise,” Reggie laughed and winked at me. “I understand you are a tough nut to crack. What’s a guy gotta do to get the attention of Rose West?”
“The thought doesn’t even cross my mind, Reggie! I have been so dedicated to making my new album. The last thing on my mind is having to deal with a man,” I replied, trying to steer the conversation back to my music. “I mean, I live independently, I sing independently, and I even produced this album independently. I am doing perfectly fine by myself.”
“Wow… All the women who independent – throw your hands up at meeee,” Reggie sang out with a neck roll and a finger wag.
“No, no, no. I don’t mean it with attitude! I’m just so busy that I can barely find matching socks in the morning, let alone find a love-match. The listeners can’t see me, but it’s clear to everyone here that I haven’t plucked my eyebrows for over two weeks. Yikes,” I said quickly, revealing way too much information. I blushed furiously and looked down at the table.
“Thick eyebrows are in this season, Rose. Plus they draw attention to your big eyes,” Reggie smiled as he gazed at me across the table. He was a solid man with a round face and a wide smile. He was all charm and eye twinkles.
“Thank you,” I replied coolly, determined not to make eye contact with him. Was he hitting on me?
“Well, there we have it, folks. If you want to see Rose West perform, she will be at the Meadowlark Lounge on Larimer Street starting at 7 PM on Saturday night. The show is nearly sold out, so you had better hurry! Thanks again for coming, Rose, and we will see you at your show. Coming at you right now is one of Rose’s first hits from a couple of years ago called ‘If You Stayed.’ ”
Reggie took off his headphones and pushed his chair back. I was off the air and out of the hot seat. I thanked Reggie and joked with him about asking the personal questions about my love life. He claimed that it was all to hype up my concert because fans adore love stories. Maybe he was right. We shook hands, and I thanked the other radio employees in the room before I left the recording room.
I soon found myself stepping out onto the street to be greeted by strokes of sunshine that painted the empty sidewalks. Sixteenth Street was quiet on this Friday morning in October, except for the sound of the brooms from the street cleaners. Everyone with normal nine to five jobs must be tucked away in their offices. Thank goodness for the singing talent God gave me, otherwise I would be cooped up in an office too. I reached for the sunglasses in my purse, when I noticed my phone vibrating. I looked at the screen, and saw “MOM” flashing in bold letters, coupled with the cute snapshot of the two of us taken last summer in San Antonio.
“Hi, Mom! I just walked out of the studio. Did you hear my interview?” I asked cheerfully.
“Yes I did, my darling! It was great. You sounded so smart and lovely,” she squealed, then her tone turned more serious. “Now, was that DJ hitting on you? You’ve got to watch out for these guys, Rose. They will give you a couple favors by having you on a radio show and then have expectations.”
“Oh Mom, I know, I know. He was just being polite. I mean, he complimented my eyebrows, of all things,” I replied reassuringly. He probably winked and twinkled his eyes for every radio show guest. “He was more interested in the alleged romance between me and Derek. Did you hear that nonsense?”
“You know, I’m not so sure that is nonsense, sweetie. I have always said that Derek is a good egg. You have so much in common, and he worships you. I would love to know that a man like that is taking care of you while I’m back here in San Antonio. Why don’t you just give the nice guy a chance?” she asked, for the millionth time this year.
“We are just friends, Ma! We don’t think of each other that way. There is no spark, no electricity. Besides, you made it on your own and so can I,” I said proudly. “I have more important things on my mind. I’m getting ready for my show tomorrow. It’s almost sold out, and there are going to be tons of reporters there. This is the big break I really need.”
“That’s right, sweetie. I know you don’t need a man, but sometimes it is nice to want a man. One that deserves you, anyway. Okay, I will let you go get ready for your show. Let me know how the show goes, and I will see you in a month for your album release party. Say hi to Nina for me. I love you, my sweet potato pie!” she chimed.
“Love you too, Ma,” I chuckled and put my phone back in my purse. I headed towards Larimer Street. It was time to eat some lunch and find the perfect dress for my big night tomorrow.
TWO
“Oh. My. God. I love it!” the male shop assistant exclaimed. I had spent the last few hours at a chic dress boutique on Larimer Street. I was wearing a black lace dress that hugged my body in an amorous embrace. It created an hourglass silhouette that I had never seen before. “That dress was made for you, baby.”
“Are you sure? It isn’t too revealing?” I said timidly, smoothing the dress across my hips. The lace felt luscious against my skin. “It’s kind of tight, isn’t it?”
“No, no, no. Well, tight in all of the right places, if you know what I mean. Do you squat? Praise
Jesus!” he yelled, with his eyes lingering on my derriere.
“This booty came from my mama and from being raised in the dirty south!” I joked. I looked back over my shoulder in the mirror to check my rear view. The dress was simple and slinky. And sexy. “Well, it is my big night, after all.”
“All eyes will be on you, baby. Damn, girl! If I didn’t bat for the same team, I’d be all over that,” he said smoothly, rubbing his hand over his mouth.
“Well, thank you. I appreciate your vote, I think,” I replied shyly. I started to walk back towards the change room, wanting to put some real clothes back on.
“Okay, baby. Come meet me out at the till to pay when you’re ready. Mmm mmm mmm!”
I walked back into the change room and looked at myself in the mirror. This was it. This was the perfect dress for my breakthrough gig. It was nice to spoil myself once in a while. I knew that this dress would give me the confidence I needed to put on the show of a lifetime. I smiled to myself, put my jeans and t-shirt back on, and headed towards the till.
“You are going to look stunning,” the male shop assistant reassured me, as he scanned the dress tag and delicately placed my dress in a bag.
I smiled and started to imagine myself walking out on stage in my dress, when I heard a girl shriek in the line behind me. I quickly turned around to see what had happened.
“Eeeeee! Did you hear the news?” the girl giggled to her friend. “Rex Byron is going to visit Denver! He is arriving tomorrow. Imagine, we could be famous!”
“We need to find him! I am in love with him,” the friend swooned. “He’s such a bad boy, and I just love his messy hair and piercing blue eyes!”
The shop assistant interrupted them. “Excuse me, girls. If you are trying to lock Rex Byron down, you will have to do it over my dead body. I called dibs on that hunk of man years ago. Haven’t you ever wondered why he can’t settle down with a nice girl? His soul is longing and searching for me!”
Whoa, I needed to get out of there before a cat fight broke out. I quickly grabbed my bag and headed for the exit. “I don’t need my receipt, thank you.” The shop assistant didn’t hear me; he was engrossed in the teenage girl debate to determine which one of them was truly worthy of Rex’s heart.
I stepped out onto Larimer Street as the sun was starting to set. I looked up to see the creamy autumn sky of corals and peaches behind a curtain of frothy clouds. The sunsets in fall were so beautiful it made my heart ache.
I started to walk home, and I was relieved to be outside of the shop and far away from the bizarre conversation in the store. I figured that Rex had to come here to hide his head in the United States after another embarrassment to the Byron Family. He was the heir to his father’s multimillion dollar fortune, as his father just happened to be Sir William Byron, England’s most successful and sought-after artist. As a result, Rex lived a luxurious life, without even needing to comprehend the concept of a job or hard work. Everything was on a platter, which did not serve him well. Like most heirs and heiresses in the modern world, they had no real purpose or passion in life, so he occupied himself with partying, playing women, and getting into mischief. Rex was forever in the headlines for getting into trouble, and it had become an international pastime to follow his trainwreck of a life. Didn’t they know that he would get into more trouble in the United States? His family should keep him locked up in his own country. What an absolute spoiled brat.
THREE
I secretly peered out from behind the curtain to scan the crowd. There were five minutes left until I went on stage to perform, and I wanted to size up the audience. I could see Derek up front and ready to cheer me on. He was always there at all of my shows, and it was comforting to see his smiling face at the front. There must have been over a hundred people in the dimly lit lounge, and many people had cameras and notebooks. I figured that those people must be reporters, waiting to discover me and make me an international success! The thought sent a chill through my body, and I forced myself to step away from the curtain and focus on my pre-game routine.
I breathed in and out, and thought about the big field behind my childhood home in Texas. Daydreaming about that park always calmed me down, especially before my big performances. I pictured the flowing grass, the effervescent trees, and the ethereal clouds. I remembered being four or five years old, running through the park, laughing with my mom, and making myself a princess tiara out of dandelions. We would sing our favorite songs while lying in the grass, and she called me her sweet singing princess. Even at that young age, my favorite singers were Elton John, David Bowie, and Mick Jagger. I remember performing in front of my music classes in elementary school, and I would always sing bizarre songs like David Bowie’s ‘Kooks’ or Elton John’s ‘Bad Side of the Moon’. Songs that no other elementary students knew, and I was sure my classmates and teachers thought I was a strange little girl indeed. My mother raised me on real rock and roll music. There was no ‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm’ for me. Back then, I was such a happy, carefree little girl. And now, I was all grown up and ready to entertain hundreds of people, without a magical dandelion tiara. This was it, Rose. I had been waiting for this moment for all of my life. I could do it!
Reggie Murphy squeezed past me backstage and walked towards the curtain. He whispered, “Your eyebrows are looking fierce, girl”.
“Ohh, thank you,” I laughed and awkwardly stroked my eyebrows. Was this guy for real? An eyebrow fetish?
Reggie gave me the thumbs up to gesture that we were ready to start the show. I gave him the head nod, and he stepped through an opening in the curtains to walk on stage. I could hear the roar of the crowd soften to a hum as they watched the presenter step towards the microphone.
“Hello, Denver! How is everybody doing tonight?” Reggie yelled at the crowd, and they cheered out in a unison response. I could feel my palms getting sweaty, and I tried to breathe slowly.
“I saaaaid, how is everybody doing tonight?” Reggie said again, egging the crowd on for more. The crowd’s second cheer was shockingly louder and made my heart beat faster.
“That’s more like it….” Reggie chuckled. “Now I know this little lady who lives in Denver and is ready to give you a sneak preview of her new album tonight.” A few people whistled and called out in the crowd.
Reggie put on his most climactic presenter voice and boomed, “Please give your warmest welcome and put your hands together for…. Rose……West!”
I walked out on stage to be blinded by the flashing lights and deafened by the crowd’s cheers. I grabbed my guitar off the stand and walked towards the microphone. Once I was on stage, I forgot about my sweaty palms and fast beating heart. I was born to perform, and I was going to give the audience all of me during my show. “Hello, Denver! Thank you so much for coming tonight. Here’s a little song that I call ‘In Your Eyes.’ ”
I began strumming the guitar chords, and I could see heads in the crowds bobbing along. They liked it! I prepared myself to hit the first high note of the song. At the end of the chord progression, I paused briefly before I started the verse and let my voice sing out, “Oooooh, I can see the Christmas lights reflected in your eyes…”
I closed my eyes so I could feel the words erupting from my soul, the melody coursing through my veins, and the rhythm surging within my body. Everything in that very moment felt right. As I neared the chorus, I opened my eyes to tell the audience to clap along, when I noticed that I was singing to the backs of everyone’s heads. Why was everyone turned around? Was there a new trend for watching concerts backwards? Maybe this was a practical joke? I continued to sing, albeit very perplexed. I could see a small group of people moving through the crowd. Cameras were flashing everywhere, which lit up a tall boyish figure with tousled hair and a cheeky grin.
“America, I have arrived!” the boy shouted in a posh accent, as he was pushed by his entourage across the room into a private roped-off area. It was hate at first sight.
Of all nights, of all plac
es, this pompous man-child had to show up here to ruin my big night? The crowd dissipated from the stage and followed Rex towards the roped-off VIP area of the lounge. Apparently they preferred to watch a boy sitting on a couch with two balding bodyguards instead of me putting on the show of a lifetime. In a stunning lace dress, I might add. All reporters and journalists eagerly turned to capture the heir. Sitting on a couch.
My heart dropped. My stomach was in knots. The image of seeing the audience turn around and walk away from my performance would stay with me for a lifetime. And it hurt. But I continued to play my songs to an empty lounge, except for Derek, who continued to watch and clap along, almost too eagerly. I hid my pain with a weak smile and sang loudly so my voice would not quiver. The set seemed to drag on, and I was almost embarrassed to continue to play to a disinterested crowd. It was like Rex’s arrival was the real performance, and I was some lame girl trying to steal his show. I felt like yelling, “This is my show! He is the one stealing my show!” I was never big into competition, and I wasn’t about to compete with a multimillion dollar heir for the spotlight, so I quickly and apologetically finished my set early by cutting a few songs short. There went my big break. You won, Rex.
When I finished my last song, I received a few lonely claps from within the lounge, presumably from Derek, before I went backstage in defeat. I walked silently to my dressing room. I passed Reggie in the hallway, but couldn’t bear to make eye contact with him. I was not in the mood. And he could tell that. I just wanted to get out of there, go home, and get into my bed. Then everything would be better.
I sat down in front of my mirror, and rubbed my hands over my face. My makeup was smudged, but it didn’t matter now. Not much mattered now. I looked at my reflection and could see the tears pooling in my eyes. I tried to stop myself to wait until I was home before the tears started, but there was no stopping it. The disappointment and embarrassment was too much, and soon my eyes were red as hot tears spilled over, making my mascara run like black pathways down my cheeks. I finally gave in and let my face fall into my hands when someone knocked aggressively on the door.
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