Wilde Velvet

by Deila Longford

  “Yeah, it was good, but not perfect.” Tony adds crossing his arms over his salmon coloured shirt. Mr Wilde nods and so do I, and then Tony and Alex excuses themselves. I am relieved and so is Mr Wilde.

  “Jesus I thought they’d never leave!” he says exhaling and smirking at the same time. I let out a soft giggle and he joins in. We laugh together and it feels good. I like this side to him, young and carefree.

  “They’re so serious; it actually pains me to be around them.” I blurt out. He smiles and gestures with his hand for me to come out of the booth. I take the earphones off of my head and I set them down onto the tall stand in front of me. I jump off the stool and I adjust my ponytail as I make my way out of the recording booth. Mr Wilde stands and he gives me his chair. I am shocked. Is he being a gentleman? He excuses himself and he returns quickly carrying a plastic chair. I feel bad, so I offer to sit on the hard chair and give him his seat back. He refuses my offer and I can’t help but smile. He makes me feel so up-and-down. One minute I am mad at him for being rude to my friend, and then he does something sweet that changes my feelings. I don’t know how to be around him. I am starting to lose sight of what’s real and what’s not. He leans back in the chair and he has a tense look on his face. He seems worried and I can’t help but wonder what put him in that foul mood. I would love to ask him about it. I want to know, but I know that I can’t go there. We haven’t talked about anything other than music for the last two weeks. He hasn’t tried to kiss me or he hasn’t pushed me for answers on my own secrets. So what gives me the right to ruin his efforts? Especially now that we have established exactly what our ‘relationship’ is all about. Business and music, that’s all. Remember Ashley?

  “Miss Harper…,” he says in a tone that alerts me that he is about to break our rules. I have a moment of badass myself, as I tell him to call me Ashley.

  “Please cut it out. I hate being referred to as Miss Harper all the time. My name is Ashley.” he laughs and runs his finger along his chin as he takes in my words.

  “I’m glad you brought the subject up about your name. I have a few questions about it, if that’s okay?” I nod.

  “Sure go ahead,” I say. He adjusts himself in the seat. He looks uncomfortable, I feel guilty again. “Are you sure you don’t want your seat back?” I offer again.

  “No. Now I want to know about the ‘Scott’ part of your name.”

  “What about it?”

  “Well did you just add it for affect, or is it real?” I laugh at him.

  “Of course it’s real,”

  “Then would you care to tell me the story behind it?” he pleads. I narrow my eyes at him. Is this another one of his ploys to try and get more information about me? He isn’t subtle. I like that about him. It makes him more vulnerable, knowing that he is interested in my life.

  “I got the Scott part of my name from my dad.” he looks confused. He needs to know more.

  “I was under the impression that you didn’t know your father?”

  “That’s correct,” I state and he still looks confused.

  “I thought that your mom didn’t know who your father was?” I am stunned. What is he trying to say?

  “Excuse me? What gave you that idea?” he looks embarrassed. Good I hope he is. How dare he think that about my mom?

  “From the way you described the situation to me. Have I got it all wrong?”

  “Yes, terribly.” he blushes and genuinely looks sorry. I feel the need to explain it to him. “My dad was a sailor and he and my mom met one night at a karaoke bar. He was on leave and she had just moved to Atlanta from New York. They met and they had instant sparks. They got together and he left the next morning. She never saw him again and she found out a few weeks later that she was pregnant. She didn’t even know his last name. All she knew what that he was called Scott. She wanted me to have a piece of him. So she named me after him.” he looks impressed by my story, and I get the feeling that he would like to share some of his own story with me. I want to shout and tell him to spill his guts, but I know that’s against our rules.

  “Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman.” I beam. My mom is that, indeed.

  “Yeah she’s pretty awesome. She was only nineteen when she had me. I can’t imagine how tough things must have been for her.” I begin to feel as if I am boring him and I am about to break another rule. “Do you have a good relationship with your mom?” his eyes widen and he smiles to reveal that captivating line. My breathe catches at the back of my throat at the sight. I somehow manage to compose my desire as he says.

  “My mother is … everything to me. I adore her. She is the most important person in my life.” Now he is adorable. I love that he cares so passionately about his mom. It’s sweet. It shows that he is kind and gentle. And my mom always says that you can tell if a guy is going to treat you right, by the way he treats his mom. I bite my lip. My mom would love Mr Wilde. He is exactly the kind of the guy that she would want me to be with. He is smart and sexy and it’s clear that he has a heart of gold. I know if my mom met him, she would fall instantly in love with him. She never liked Brandon and I never understood why. I always thought that she was just trying to ruin my life. But now that I have broken free of Brandon and his crocked ways, I know that what my mom felt about him was exactly right. He did awful things and he dragged me into a dark place that I was terrified to leave. When I finally broke all ties with him, my mom was relieved. Brandon was very controlling and that eventually lead to him being violent. I would lie and make excuses for him. I would say that I fell or that I walked into a cupboard. My mom was terrified. She knew that I was lying and that I was covering for him. She tried to wake me up and to make me see that what he was doing was wrong. But I was so in love that I was blind to see it. I didn’t listen to my moms’ warnings and things only got worse. I hate thinking back on that time. I shake the image of Brandon and his tortured fists out of my mind. It’s all in the past. You have moved on and what happened has only made you a stronger person.

  “That’s sweet. Your mom’s Spanish, right?” he laughs.

  “Yeah she’s from Madrid. She was a model in the eighties and she met my father at a fashion show, which she was walking in –of course. My mother is a beautiful woman. She has long black hair and perfect olive skin. My father was instantly drawn to her, and she said that she was captivated by my father’s demeanour. Two months later they were married and three months after the wedding, they found out that they were going to be parents. Katia was born in the spring and two years later they had me.” Wow that’s an amazing story. But I am confused. He told me that his family weren’t perfect and that all the money in the world would never make them happy. He also told me that his sister Katia moved away to Spain, because she didn’t want to watch their family disintegrate. I know that I am about to break every rule I have set, but I need to know more about his life. When he opens up to me like this, I feel connected to him and it leaves me powerless.

  “That’s an amazing story, but I can’t help but wonder about the time you told me that your family was … disintegrating.” his eyes fall onto his lap and he twiddles his fingers through his hair. He looks uncomfortable and after a few minutes of silence, he finally has the courage to look me in the eye.

  “You miss nothing, do you?” he says in a broken voice. I sense that he is hurting. I want to comfort him. But can I really go there? Haven’t I been through this before? Haven’t I forced myself to stay at arm’s length because he reminds of the way I used to feel about Brandon? Can I really comfort him knowing that I can never be with him?

  “You can scream at me and tell me to mind my own business. But I can see that you have something on your mind. I guess we could talk about it, if you want to that is?” he seems interested in my offer. He hasn’t screamed or gotten mad either. Maybe he wants to let off steam and get whatever’s bothering him off of his chest. I wait patiently for his answer.

  “My father is a very … difficult man. He has
very high standards and most of the time our family don’t meet those standards. When Katia and I were children, he was one of those fathers’ that was there physically, but mentally he was in a whole other place. His work is his baby, not his actual babies if you get my drift.” Okay so I am guessing that he has some daddy issues. But come on wake up man, at least you know who father is. He senses what I am thinking and I think he feels slightly guilty. He’s acting like a spoilt brat. Stay calm Ashley.

  “What does he work at?” I ask sounding interested. No wait a minute, I am interested. I am just a little annoyed that he feels tortured because his dad worked a lot. I mean wake up dude people have real problems.

  “He’s a doctor, well if you call being a plastic surgeon a doctor.” I smile.

  “Your dad is a plastic surgeon?” he looks amused that I find his father’s job amusing.

  “Yeah why do you find that funny?” he quizzes. I scold him with an embarrassed look.

  “I don’t find it funny.”

  “Then stop laughing!” he says firmly. I blush as I realise that he’s teasing me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say biting my lip so hard it may burst.

  “Don’t be it’s a pathetic job, I know.” I shake my head at him. I don’t agree. His dad must be really talented. I can’t imagine the patience that he must have, and not to mention how satisfying his job must be. Out here in LA plastic surgery is everywhere. You can’t escape it. There is always going to be a demand for it. People are never going to stop searching for what they think is perfection.

  “I wouldn’t agree with that.” I say. He arches a dark eyebrow and runs his finger along his lower lip.

  “Do explain your theories Miss Harper.” he’s challenging me. Forcing me to open up and share my opinions on his family. Is this a test? Am I am being graded?

  “Okay, his job and what he does may seem superficial. But we live in a superficial world. As much as we try to ignore that people are more into their looks than saving the world, we can’t. Beauty and striving for perfection is everyone’s target. Looking good and feeling good about yourself isn’t a crime. Your father helps people by fixing what they hate about themselves. You should never mock what he does. I have known people who were so depressed about how they looked; they actually considered ending their own lives. You may think that your father works at a pathetic job, but believe me there’s nothing pathetic about helping someone to gain confidence.” I am proud of my speech. But is Mr Wilde going to share my pride?

  “Well I must say that you’re a smart girl. You understand that helping others is a must. I don’t mock my father’s job because I find it superficial. I mock it because I wish that he would see it for what it is. He doesn’t care that he’s helping people. When he’s removing someone’s wrinkles or giving them a boost in the boob department, all he sees is dollar signs.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true. Why would he go to the trouble of getting qualified, if he didn’t care about his profession?” I realise that we are in dangerous territory. I am not supposed to be asking him about his personal life. I have made that my number one rule. Yet now my rules have gone out the window, and all I can think about is knowing more about his life.

  “Have you ever heard the term ‘it’s in my blood’?” I nod. “Well it’s in his blood. My grandfather and his before him were all plastic surgeons.” Okay I get it. So my next question has to be.

  “Why did you end the legacy?” he gazes at me, eyes serious and tense.

  “Because I didn’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps, I could think of nothing worse.” I finally get it. He ended what has been a legacy passed through the generations. His father went on to follow in both his grandfather and his father’s footsteps. I suspect that he thought his son would do the same. I get that Jonathon wanted to have his own life, but I also get his dads side of the story. I expect that he makes his sons life hard. I am sure that he doesn’t mean it. He just thought that Jonathon would succeed him. I get it, but I am finding it hard to process why he didn’t want to be like his dad. He said he could think of nothing worse. I want to know why.

  “It seems like you’re really pissed off with your dad.” he sniggers at my words.

  “That’s an understatement.” he’s sarcastic.

  “Okay I gotta ask, why?” he laughs at me. I love his boyish smile.

  “He isn’t a good person and I don’t like the way he treats my mom. He makes my life a nightmare. I hate being around him.” Wow, this is tough. At first I was mocking him, now I have changed my mind. I can see in his eyes that he’s lost. He has his own issues and I was quick to dismiss them.

  “That’s tough,” I don’t know what else to say. I don’t want to upset him by letting my mouth run away with me. I have already broken enough rules today.

  “Anyway, we’ve got work to do.” he says checking the time on his BlackBerry. Our conversation is over. It’s back to business as usual. I am going to miss getting to know him.

  Eleven

  “Now let’s talk about your performances. We need to decide on a playlist. I’m thinking five songs in total. Four of your favourite’s and then finish with ‘written in the stars’,” I like the sound of his suggestion. Now the hard part is choosing the songs. I have so many favourites that it will take me a lifetime to choose. No doubt when I finally decide, Mr Wilde will disagree with me. He always does. It’s so frustrating.

  “Any suggestions?” I ask sweetly. He clasps the bridge of his nose as he rummages in one of the desk drawers. He pulls out an iPod and he slides over and places it into a docking system. He touches the screen as he looks at me.

  “I made a playlist of the songs I thought would suit your voice. There are loads on here; I hope you’re not in a hurry to get away?” I check my watch. I have to be at the café at six, it’s now four thirty. Surly it won’t take us an hour and a half to choose four songs. I smile at him and he flashes me his megawatt smile. I lose my breath at the sight of that sexy line that forms in his cheek. Wow, he’s not just gorgeous but he’s mesmerising. I am really attracted to him. I can’t deny it nor do I want to. I can tell that he feels the same. I can sense it when he looks at me. He wants me and I want him. If only we could be together.

  “I have to work in a bit, but I’m sure we’ll choose by then.” he smirks and kicks up the first song, Irreplaceable by Beyoncé. I shake my head and he skips to the next, Yellow by Coldplay. Love the song, but hate to sing it. I shake my head again; he skips to the next, the one that got away by Katy Perry. This one I like.

  “Sold, I love that song.” he smiles at me and writes down the title on a piece of paper. It takes us around twenty minutes to decide on the playlist and it’s as follows.

  The one that got away by Katy Perry.

  Set fire to the rain by Adele.

  Sky Scraper Demi Lovato.

  Issues by The Saturdays.

  Written in the stars by Ashley Scott Harper.

  Mr Wilde wanted to hear me sing my song again and I was quite happy to grant him his wish. We took it slow. I sang the first verse a few times, so that I could really get a feel for the tempo. Once I had it, I moved onto the chorus and then eventually the second verse. I must have sung the song at least ten times, but each time, I fell more and more in love with the lyrics. Mr Wilde seemed pleased with my progress and he thinks that I should have the song fully recorded by tomorrow. Mr Phillips has stayed in the background so far, but Jonathon has warned me that he gets rather hands on when it’s nearing the end of the trial. I only have four weeks left. I can’t believe how quickly those first four weeks have gone. My nerves are heightened and my whole body paralyzes at the thought of not making it. I want this so badly. I hunger for music in my life and I wouldn’t survive without it. If I fail then my dreams will shatter. My heart will break and I will no longer have a reason to see Jonathon. I need to succeed any other outcome would just be a tragedy.

  The café is quite tonight. There are only a few couples in a
nd one family of four. I am hardly rushed off my feet. It was really hot today and the temperature is still soaring as the night draws closer. Our usual diners are the beach types. Relaxed and calm just looking for a quite spot to grab a bite before they head home. But tonight is really quite. I expect that the sun has taken its toll and everyone is no doubt exhausted from the heat. One of my tables, a young blonde couple who look really into each other, calls me over to their table. They have finished their meal. I offer them the dessert menu. They refuse and gaze into each other’s eyes lovingly and simply ask for the cheque. I smile and clear their plates. I run their tab from the till and as I walk back over to their table, I see someone who takes my breath away. Jonathon walks into the café, dressed in his slim fit jeans and black polo shirt. His aviators are slid into the front of his shirt. His hair is sexy and carefree. His eyes are sinful and his presence is spectacular. He briefly makes eye contact with me. He presses his lips into a sweet smile and I return his gesture, blushing as I do. I am the closest waitress to him, so I politely place the cheque down onto the couples table. Thanking them, as I turn my attention to the door. I walk over to Jonathon and when I reach him, he surprises me by gently kissing me on my cheek. My heart flutters. His actions are inappropriate, but I am not going to complain or tell him off. The mark and the sensation of his lips are everlasting on my cheek. My stomach flips. I force myself to wake the hell up. I grab two menus from the pile at the till. He shakes his head at me whilst he takes in the view of the menus in my hand.

  “I only need one,” I smile. He notices and smiles back. He’s alone. I was expecting Candy to walk in through the door any minute. I begin to wonder why she isn’t with him. Did he finally end things with her? I smile at him again. I realise that my constant display of affection is a little too obvious. I really need to cut it out.

  “I’ll show you to your table.” I say as I reluctantly turn my back on him. I lead him over to a booth at the back. I wouldn’t usually assign such a big table for one guy, but the café is quite so I make an exception for him. He slides himself into the booth and I hand him the menu. He is eyeing me intently. My heart flutters again. Then I begin to wonder why he’s here. Did he follow me? He knew that I was working tonight and he hasn’t brought Candy with him. Is he playing me? Does he have a new game plan in trying to win me over? I am excited at the thought of him pursuing me. I know I wanted nothing to do with him. I wanted him to stay away from me, but the last two weeks have been torturous. I have hated not being able to talk to him. I have missed his dazzling stares and lip biting as he looked at me. I have missed his desire and that long intense stare that he does ever so perfectly. I have to admit it, I like him. I want to tease him. I want him to tell me why he’s here.