Don't You Remember (16 page)

*****

Johnny woke up and looked at his watch, realizing he had slept fourteen hours straight. He forced himself to get up and then dragged himself into the shower to try and wake and freshen himself up. He grabbed a towel from the rail, dried himself and wrapped the towel around his lower half before studying himself in the mirror. He looked tired and in desperate need of a shave, but decided to leave his beard to grow thinking it provided him with a slight disguise.

Johnny dressed and stared over at his bike near the front door. Even though he didn’t feel like it, he knew if he got on his bike and went for a long ride around Central Park he would feel much better. He took his sunglasses and a baseball hat to help with his disguise then opened the front door and wheeled his bike to the lift.

“Nice day for it, Mr Cromwell,” the doorman acknowledged.

“It certainly is.”

“And I like the beard, makes you look different.”

“That’s the aim,” Johnny said, wheeling his bike outside. He began to ride in the direction of Central Park.

He rode quickly past a lot of people not bothering to notice if he was recognized. He wanted to be anonymous today. The trees were swaying in a slight breeze this evening which meant as he picked up pace on the bike, he wouldn’t feel too hot; the fresh air would cool down his body temperature. Perfect.

Johnny rode fast and had to swerve past a person crunched down on the pavement for some reason. Something made him turn around but he didn’t catch a face, only a hat. He saw the person was doing up their shoelace, which was why they had stopped randomly on the pavement. That was a close call – he could have crashed. He turned back around, moved his bike onto the road and continued to ride through the green lights until he reached Central Park where he picked up speed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

New York was turning out to be the best move I had ever made. Daniel introduced me to a great group of people who quickly became my friends. Socially I was kept as busy as I wanted to be and work-wise I was enjoying every minute. My contacts with the police were vast and I began to know who I needed to talk to to get the information I wanted.

I was still monitoring Johnny’s career from the sidelines and, when I saw him on television or the newspaper or a magazine, my heart still skipped a beat. He was still as charming as ever in his interviews and he got better looking with age, like fine wine. I wondered why it wasn’t getting any easier for me to live without him. I was happy for him but not happy for me. Everything in my life was pretty great except my love life which was nonexistent.

My new friends and I became locals at a new, quirky piano bar which we went to at least once a week. We drank and sang, laughed loud and always had the best evening. I wasn’t one for nightclubs preferring a good bar with a good band, but I still went to clubs. Why not? I was in New York.

I grew my hair and allowed myself to spend my money on some beautiful new clothes. I rang Gran and Dad once a fortnight to let them know I was all right. The conversations were short and sweet – they found it hard to understand my life.

Daniel made it his mission in life to set me up with someone. He was constantly quizzing me on my taste in men. I always described my ideal guy to look just like Johnny, tall, dark hair, shaped muscles on the arms, but not too big, with a nice taunt chest and abs, firm butt, nice muscular legs and very manly. I never revealed to Daniel who I was thinking of. What would be the point of that? What would be the point of opening up wounds that were increasingly difficult to heal, especially when I couldn’t stop myself thinking of Johnny. Perhaps I will have to think about seeing a therapist, even though I believe time heals all wounds. However, if that were true then time is really taking too long if you ask me.

Soon another birthday passed with a few friends from work and Daniel. I didn’t want a fuss to be made, so that’s precisely what they did, they made a fuss. All right, I’ll admit I did feel special, but I didn’t need all this attention.

“Jen, why don’t you just enjoy the party we organized for you?” Daniel asked.

“I am enjoying it. I just don’t want you or anyone else to go to any trouble, that’s all.”

“But we wanted to do something for you no matter how much trouble you think it is. It’s a party, have fun.”

“I am having fun.”

“Good, then sip this champagne,” Daniel said, putting a glass in my hand.

As the night went on, and the piano bar began to empty, Daniel and I remained sitting at the bar sipping on yet another bottle of champagne. There were only a few people left now, and all were sitting far apart, in deep conversation with friends or lovers.

“There’s something sad about you,” Daniel said as he steadied himself on his chair. “Yes, I think that’s true. I’ve been trying to put my finger on it, but now I know. Something deep down inside there,” he continued, pointing at my tummy a little drunkenly. “What happened to you?” He swayed on the stool.

“Oh nothing. The usual.”

“No. No… no, no, no. Not the usual. Something more.”

“Seriously, there’s no story here. I’m just a girl like every other girl. Yes, sure I’ve had my heart broken. That’s all. Sometimes it’s hard to let people in.” I shrugged.

“No… it’s more than that.”

“Seriously,” I laughed. “It’s not more. It is what it is.”

“Well, I’m taking you bar crawling until you meet someone.”

“Not tonight you’re not. We’re going home. Come on I’ll flag down a cab and drop you off at your place before I go back to mine.”

“Oh, you’re so good to me,” he said, pouting his lips and squeezing his eyes together.

“Come on then” I stated, pulling Daniel off the stool and trying to get him to stand up straight. “Let’s go and catch a cab.”

*****

The next day I did something I thought I’d never do. Even though I was terrified of another rejection, I decided once and for all to give Johnny one last chance. I did some research and found Johnny’s management company in the Music and Media Directory Book. I nervously dialled the number.

“Hello, Hunter Management, Amelia speaking, how can I help you?”

“Oh, hello,” I said apprehensively, my voice shaking. “My name is Jen Redman, I am a friend of Johnny Cromwell’s. He knows who I am and I need to get a message to him.”

“Oh yes. And what would that message be?”

“Can you tell him Jen Redman called and my phone number is (212) 454 9796?”

“Sure, I’ll pass that message on for you right away.”

“Thank you ever so much,” I replied and hung up the phone wondering if he would call. This was my last attempt. If he didn’t call I would know once and for all that he wasn’t the man I once loved.

Amelia looked at the phone message Jen had left for Johnny and ripped off the piece of paper from her pad. She scrunched it up and tossed it straight into the trash can. If only she had a penny for all the girls who rang up wanting to leave a message for Johnny Cromwell. Seriously, did this Jen Redman think she was that gullible? As if Johnny knew her. He certainly didn’t need another groupie confessing their undying love for him. It was her job to protect all the bands Hunter Management represented, and one way of doing that was sifting through the bullshit and the phone message she just received was certainly another good one.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I woke up in a sweat after having the most amazing yet weird dream. I rolled over to my side, turned on my bedside lamp and picked up my laptop and switched it on. “Hurry up,” I told the computer wishing it could understand me. I had to write my dream down and I had to write it down now, before it left my head as so many dreams do. I opened up a word document and began to write.

My dream was a kind of drama and thriller with a little twist at the end. I was a detective looking for a missing Middle Eastern girl and I had to find her, no matter what. Part of the dream was set in a foggy, secluded forest. I find a hidden dungeon where a beast lives, find some courage and go into the dungeon with my gun and torch ready for whatever might jump out at me. The dungeon turns into underground tunnels and there are many different routes I can take, I could get lost, but there is a girl’s life at stake. I must carry on, I must continue.

I turn down one path and walk for what feels like miles, but there is nothing there, so I turn back and take another route. I am tired but alert for danger. As I walk, I move my gun and torch in all directions trying to cover my bases.

I hear a noise in the distance and head towards it. I get closer and closer, I can feel it, but I still can’t see anything. I get to the end of the tunnel where I am sure the noise came from and rest my back against the wall. I shrug, annoyed that there is nothing to see. My shoulder pushes back and I feel the wall separate slightly. I turn and face the tunnel wall and feel the surface for a break.

I hear a loud crashing noise, the sound of water flowing down the tunnel and approaching fast. I panic, pushing at the tunnel wall with all my might. The wall opens and I slip through the crack to the other side. The wall closes up, water continues to flow down the tunnel and I am safe.

Where am I? I look around and see the room is lightly lit and there is a living space right in front of me. It’s tastefully decorated with light colored white walls with beautiful artwork, so prestigious I could be in an up-market gallery. I lower my gun and walk around the living space amazed by the paintings on the wall. Who did this? Who lives here?

Turning 360 degrees, I see a modern grey sofa covered in large, inviting cushions. There’s a coffee table too, with books and a vase with large sunflowers. What is going on? Who lives here?

A man enters the room backwards. He puts his hands up and shouts, “I do not have a weapon. I will not hurt you. I just want to talk.”

“Where is she? Where is the girl?” I bark.

“The young lady that went missing in the woods?”

“Yes. Where is she? Don’t move any closer to me. I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

“I haven’t hurt her.”

“Turn around so I can see your face. What are you hiding?”

The man turned around. “Don’t shoot. I don’t mean any harm. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

I relax my arm slightly but keep the gun raised, not ready to let down my guard. “What happened to you?”

“I was born like this,” The beast man says, lowering his eyes sadly. “You see a monster with scars on his face, but I’m not a monster, even though most people treat me like one.”  His face looked swollen and red, with a hard bumpy surface like a reptile. 

“Where is the girl? How long have you lived here? How many other casualties have you taken?”

“Please put your gun down. You don’t understand.”

“I will not put my gun down until you tell me where the girl is. What do I need to understand?”

“The girl was running away from home, from her family, they were not good to her. She ran away to the woods, fell and broke her leg. She was injured and unconscious when I found her. I couldn’t just leave her in the woods, I had to help her. I took her to my home here and I helped her get better. I fed her and I looked after her.”

“Where is the girl now?”

“The girl is now a woman.”

“Yes, well, it’s been a long time. Where is she?”

“She’s through here,” he said, moving his head and eyes in the direction he wanted to lead me.

“Keep your hands up and take me,” I said, approaching the large man beast.