by Sofia Grey
She read it aloud. “To Jordan, Kate, and Louisa, the best hosts I know. Your home feels like paradise. Thanks a million. AJ.” Her cheeks pinked, and she gave him a quick hug and a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. It’s one of my favorite albums anyway, but I love it even more now.”
Kate set the CD playing, and they listened to the album in its entirety, drinking margaritas and gazing into the fire. Jordan fiddled with the logs from time to time, adding more and shifting them round.
As the final track drifted away, Kate said, “At the risk of sounding like a demented fan, can I ask you about this album?”
“Sure.”
“This one has a different feel to all the others. The lyrics are more poetic—more sensual—and people have speculated for years about “Another Day”. It’s such a sad song, but positive at the same time. Is there a story behind it?”
“You mean the song or the album?”
“All of it.”
Alex stared into the distance. Was he ready to talk about this? He could give them the canned answer, the stock response he gave to journalists, or he could tell them the truth. Maybe it was time.
“This is what I consider to be our best album. And yes, it’s completely different to the others. It was the quickest and easiest to write. From start to finish, it took less than a month.” He paused and drained his glass. Jordan reached over with the jug and refilled it.
“I wrote it with an old friend. We clicked, and it rarely happens like that. I wrote the music and did the arrangements, and she wrote most of the lyrics. It’s a poignant album in that respect. Every time I hear it, I remember that summer.” He gulped at his drink. The summer he fell in love—only he refused to admit it at the time. He braced himself for an onslaught of sad memories, but they didn’t rush in.
“It was a magical period, and the calm before the madness. Like the eye of a hurricane. I had a difficult period beforehand. When the album was complete, it all went crazy again.” His chest twinged at the memory of how he treated Maz. She didn’t deserve that. “And that’s it. I haven’t seen her since. My friend, that is. It was almost ten years ago. Sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
He didn’t want to go there again. It was a stupid idea to talk about this. Alex lifted his glass but found it empty.
Louisa’s voice was soft in the silence of the room. “Do you know what happened to her?”
“No.” He focused on pushing back the memories. “I didn’t behave very well. I was younger, cocky, and starting to believe my own P.R. She was too young to get sucked into the circus my life became. I’ve no idea where she is. I’d like to think she got married and had a tribe of children.” He forced a lighter tone and flashed a smile he didn’t feel. “So there you go. I don’t tell that story often.”
Louisa frowned. “Why don’t you look for her? Find her on Facebook and catch up.”
Three pairs of eyes were fixed on him. For someone used to living in the spotlight, it felt uncomfortable. “It wouldn’t be difficult. Her father is my manager, Frankie.”
“Maybe I’m missing something here, but why don’t you ask him?” Kate sounded tipsy, her face a picture of curiosity.
“No. We had one perfect summer. It’d be like going back somewhere after a long time and finding it different. It’d spoil all my memories.”
“You know, that isn’t really an answer.” Louisa sat upright and stared at him.
“Lou.” Jordan’s voice held a warning note, but she ignored him.
“If she wrote those lyrics, it’s plain as day she was in love with you. She might still be.”
Alex snorted his derision. “Suppose she is. What have I got to offer her or any woman? I’m a drunk. I have a serious alcohol problem. And yeah, I’m clean at the moment, but I bet you all know I’ve got a history with substance abuse too.” He paused, the weight of his past pressing heavy on his shoulders. “I used to be a musician, but I haven’t had an original musical idea in years. I can’t pick up the enthusiasm to play. My guitars are gathering dust. I don’t know how to do anything else; being a musician is all I’ve ever done. And you know the irony? It’s a twist of fate that left me alive while my little brother died. I’d been close to the edge so often, completely off my head, and yet I survived. He hardly touched the stuff until he took up with a crazy bitch who sold him on the whole heavy-drug scene. Truth is I’m going nowhere fast.”
Fuck. He didn’t mean to say any of this. Bile rose in his throat, and he pulled himself together. Hasty exit coming right up, and another set of people he’d be embarrassed to look at again.
Jordan cleared his throat. “Hmm... that’s a tricky one. What have you got to offer? You’ve got pots of money. A ridiculously big house. Musical ability others can only dream of. Six best-selling albums.” He smiled around the room. “Great neighbours—it must be said. A kind and generous nature. And excellent taste in alcohol. I can’t imagine what any woman would see in you.” He held out his hands, as though appealing to Kate and Louisa. “Go on. If you could choose me or Alex. Free choice. Rock God, or me?”
The women looked at each other, giggled like schoolgirls, and both pointed toward Alex before collapsing with laughter.
“Hey. Come on.” Jordan looked offended. “Maybe I need to rethink that speech.”
Jordan’s banter worked. Alex found a smile from somewhere and stayed in his chair. He accepted another top up, and the ugly moment passed.
If only everything could be fixed so easily.
* * * *
It wasn’t often that Sylvie looked forward to an early start on a Monday morning, but this one was different. She was at her desk a shade before eight, in the hope of seeing Rico before everyone else arrived. She’d forgotten about the management briefings. She checked his schedule. He wouldn’t be free until eight-thirty, and he then had a series of meetings blocked out. His entire week was the same. No free lunch periods, and evening catch-ups with Marcus and Marianne that ran until seven every night.
He said he didn’t have much free time, and he was right. She felt exhausted looking at his workload. That jogged a memory, and she picked up her phone and opened the browser window. She’d looked for Rico on Facebook and Twitter and was unable to find him. Either he liked his privacy, or he didn’t hang out on social media. Now though, she searched for something else.
She typed Semper Fi bulldog tattoo, and watched as the hits racked up. The top results all related to the U.S. Marine Corps. She knew she’d seen that tattoo somewhere before. It was a movie she saw last year, about a platoon of Marines. The film had been dull, but she recalled the scene where they queued up in the tattoo parlor, to be inked.
Why would Rico wear a U.S. Marine tattoo on his arm? Was he in the Marine Corps? But why not say so?
The office door clicked open, and Sylvie put her phone down.
It was Marianne, Rico, and Pete, back from the briefing, and not in a good mood by the looks of it. Marianne’s face was tight, and Pete argued as they walked in, waving his hands. Rico strode along behind them, shuffling through a stack of folders as he moved.
Marianne glanced across and mouthed good morning, just as Rico stumbled. A pile of documents cascaded around Sylvie’s desk.
“Damn.” He scowled at the loose papers jumbled on the floor, and Sylvie scrambled to her feet.
“Let me help,” she said. They crouched together, to pick up the pages.
“Morning, Silverwood,” He gave her a quick smile, and their fingers brushed briefly as they touched the same sheet. It reminded her of them sharing the platter of food in the wine bar, and she felt shy for a moment. It had been a fun night, and he remembered the nickname he gave her. She loved the way he said it; it warmed her inside.
He slid the last document into a cardboard folder, and then stood. “By the way”—he was businesslike again—”I need some help to schedule a ton of meetings. Have you got time to go through them with me now?”
She grabbed her notebook and pen, followed him to
his desk, and sat on a guest chair he pulled up. He ran through the meetings he needed set up, the times and attendees he wanted, and the documents to be issued. It was purely work, but it meant she got to sit next to him and enjoy his delicious fragrance some more.
Marianne continued to argue with Pete. It seemed to be a dispute over encryption, and Sylvie couldn’t make sense of it. She focused on Rico and the work at hand. Monday mornings wouldn’t be so bad if she could do this every week.
* * * *
Marcus scowled at his emails. The Monday morning briefing had been difficult. Pete and Marianne couldn’t reach an agreement over the laptop encryption plans.
Pete wanted to recall all the laptops from the audit team and the senior management level, and add another level of encryption to the hard drives. If the laptops were stolen, that would ensure the data on them would be safe. In itself, it wasn’t an unreasonable request, but Marianne was concerned about the amount of time involved and how effective the new software would be.
Each machine would take about six hours to upgrade, and due to the ongoing security issues, Pete insisted on taking a hands-on approach, instead of doing the work remotely. While Pete argued he could do the work out of hours, she still dug in her heels, maintaining there were more pressing matters that needed attention.
As far as Marcus was concerned, Marianne was leading the audit team. It was her call, and he’d wait for her to update him. Maybe they could have dinner again, one night this week, or maybe he should stop thinking about her.
He had a blast with Marianne this weekend. He felt bad immediately for wishing he could do it again, but when was the last time he cut loose and chilled out for the day?
After Louisa’s moods, Marianne was easy company. They met on Saturday afternoon, as planned, and had a hell of a day together. She took him to every tourist trap he could think of and a few more. It was a whirlwind tour of London, including several overpriced coffees and a hideously expensive dinner. He hoped Louisa didn’t see his credit-card statement and ask about it.
She was pissed at him again—her default setting these days—although this time he deserved it. He was a worm for enjoying another woman’s company over his wife’s, and he needed to make it up to Louisa. She’d never know, but it might go some way to appeasing the guilt churning in his stomach.
Louisa announced she’d be arriving later in the week and he needed to rearrange his schedule, so they’d have some time together. It irritated the fuck out of him. She knew he was busy, knew he clung to his position by the tips of his fingers, and yet she still expected him to drop everything for her. Like he dropped everything to go out with Marianne. Christ.
He sank his head into his hands. Something was going to crack soon. He couldn’t carry on like this much longer. The only thing that made his miserable life bearable at the moment was Marianne, and that heaped another load of guilt onto his shoulders.
Chapter Eight
For the first time in forever, Alex’s life had purpose. Kate mentioned at dinner that she wanted to do some interior decorating prior to the wedding party—a spot of painting and general tidying up. Jordan was busy with a deadline, and before he could think about it, Alex offered to help. Like chopping logs, this was something he’d never done before. He’d normally pay a professional to do it, but Kate was so pleased, he couldn’t back out.
He turned up the next morning, and she gave him a list of little jobs to do. Jordan teased him about being under her thumb, but Alex enjoyed the challenge. Kate’s cooking helped too. She dispensed an endless supply of bacon sandwiches, scrambled eggs, and pasta in a variety of sauces, along with homemade bread to die for. All of a sudden, he was eating three meals a day, working for seven or eight hours, and not needing the vodka anesthetic every night.
There was always someone in the house—Louisa, drifting in and out; Jordan, slaving away over his drawing board or computer; and Kate here, there, and everywhere. Music played in the kitchen, and quite often it was an Event Horizon album. Alex sang along without thinking about it. Sometimes it was a band he didn’t know. Kate would look up from whatever she was doing and say something like, “Oh, that’s Shihad. They’re a Kiwi band,” and he’d make a mental note to listen to them again.
Kate’s kitchen was the central point to the house. It was a large room, with windows along one edge and plenty of cupboard space. The table seated eight comfortably, and there were two saggy old armchairs and an ancient-looking sofa in the corner. Children’s pictures adorned the pin board. A bunch of magnetic alphabet letters sat on the side of the fridge, and Alex would sneakily rearrange them into a variety of phrases, and see who changed them next. The game went on indefinitely.
His kitchen was sterile in comparison. It was filled with steel appliances, acres of unused work surface, a massive range with six gas burners, and state-of-the-art electronics. All he used was the kettle, the almost empty fridge, and the icebox. What a waste.
He was with Kate and Jordan the day Jonathan Craigowan and his wife arrived, fresh from their honeymoon. Jonathan was instantly recognizable, with his messy bed-head hair, dark-blue eyes, and likeable grin. Alex had watched him race on TV and seen his picture in the gossip columns on a regular basis. He was previously married to some Hollywood actress, and this was his second wife. She was beautiful. Tall and skinny, with long, blonde hair, she was refreshingly natural, with freckles instead of makeup. It was clear to see she was besotted with her husband.
They walked into the kitchen, chattering loudly with Kate, and greeted Jordan like an old friend. They spotted Alex at the table, and Kate stepped to his side. “This is Jon and Anita, the happy couple.” She smiled at them with a hint of a tease in her eyes. “Guys, this is our newest neighbour, Alex Hamilton.”
Jon looked at him for a long moment, and then grinned. “Do you know, you’re the spitting image of AJ from Event Horizon? The resemblance is uncanny.”
Alex bowed his head briefly. “You got me. Guilty as charged.”
“No.” Jon looked to Kate for confirmation. She nodded, and Jon’s beam stretched wider. “What an honour. I’d like to shake your hand, sir. Your albums are some of my all time favourites.” He turned back to his wife and drew her forwards, his arm around her shoulders. “This is my gorgeous wife, Anita.”
Alex shook both their hands. “The honor is mine. I’ve been looking forward to meeting the newest driver in Formula 1. Congratulations. You seem to be in great form, especially after that accident at Spa.”
Jon’s lively faced clouded for a fraction of a second, and Anita looked away. When Jon spoke his voice was firm. “That’s old news. There’s no reason to talk about it anymore.”
Instead, they talked about their honeymoon, their newly refurbished house near Holyhead, plans for the wedding party, and gossip. Painting and decorating was abandoned for the afternoon, and Jordan left his work for a few hours. Kate pressed them to stay for dinner, and Alex found himself making two new friends.
They ate early, and then chatted in the lounge, in front of a roaring fire. Jon and Anita curled up together on the sofa, and Alex was amused to see her fall asleep with her face resting on his chest. She looked like a sleepy kitten, snuggling into him.
“She’s three months pregnant and gets tired quickly,” Jon explained, as he eased her into a more comfortable position. “You know, when you asked about Spa earlier... I’m sorry if I sounded rude. Anita freaks out at the prospect of something like that happening again. It was a bad time for us.”
“I’m sorry. It never occurred to me. Congratulations, though. You look very happy. Have you been together long?”
Jon grinned and raised his coffee mug in a mock salute. “Four months.”
Huh? Did he hear that right?
Jon made a face. “You can say it. I don’t mind. And God knows the gossip columns had a field day. Bloody vultures. That’s partly why we married abroad. I didn’t want her to have to face the media.”
Alex chose his words wi
th care. “You seem so comfortable with each other. More like you’ve been together for ages.”
Kate spoke up. “We’d only known each other a few months before we married.” She sprawled on the floor, leaned against Jordan, and smiled lovingly up at him.
He trailed his fingers through her hair. “And now it’s been nearly four years,” he said.
“Well, here’s to long-term happiness. You make me envious of the married state.” Alex toasted them all with his mug.
Jon laughed. “You’ve never taken the plunge? According to the press, between the two of us, we’ve probably dated every eligible beauty in the northern hemisphere.” His good humor was infectious.
“Nope. Been engaged, but that ended badly.” Alex reflected on Joni for a moment. Thought about Maz again.
Anita stirred on the sofa, and Jon gazed at her, love written all over his face. “When you find the right woman, I don’t think it matters how long you’ve known each other. I fell in love with Anita the third time I saw her. It just took a while for me to realize it.”
“The third time?” Alex was intrigued.
Jon huffed a soft laugh. “The first time, I thought she was a teenager. The second time, she was covered in dirt from head to toe, but with a wet T-shirt that made me realize she was anything but a child. And the third time, I took her out for lunch. Apart from a few weeks here and there, we’ve spent all our time together, and I’ve never been happier.”
“You thought I was a child then, too.” Anita’s soft voice murmured sleepily from the sofa.
“I didn’t.” He wrinkled his brow and looked at her, puzzled.
She sat up and covered a yawn with her hand. “Sorry.” She smiled apologetically. “You did.” She addressed Jon again. “I was wearing my raincoat, and you said I looked like a teenager.”
Jon laughed. “Yes, I did. I asked you if you were old enough to be in the pub with me.”
