Island in the Sea (23 page)

“It's not just music I love; it's the effect it has on people. Sometimes I feel like a babysitter or an errand girl on a constant loop between Starbucks and Whole Foods. But sometimes I stand backstage and feel like a magician.

“You were flat on your back and now you are poised to win a Grand Slam. You have plenty of time to buy a big house with a garden and golden retriever. Now you should be winning gold trophies and jetting between New York and Monaco.

“We both love what we do and we shouldn't give it up.” She gazed at the lights twinkling on the water. “I've had a wonderful time, but I think we should stop seeing each other.”

Henry stood quietly beside her. His forehead creased and his eyes flickered.

“But I'm in love with you and you must feel the same,” he said. “I've never felt this way before, I don't want it to end.”

“I do feel something but it's not enough.” Juliet hesitated. “We're in different places in our lives and that's not going to change.”

“But we can make it change,” Henry insisted. “We can fly and see each other a few times a month. I'm always in the air, I don't mind stopping in California.”

“I'm sorry.” Juliet shook her head. “I think it's better if we make a clean break.”

“Are you sure there isn't someone else?” Henry asked softly.

Juliet inhaled his scent of aftershave and musk cologne. She looked at his wavy blond hair and blue eyes and took a deep breath.

“There isn't anyone,” she replied. “I'm all by myself.”

*   *   *

They walked along the promenade in silence. They reached the gate of Casa Isabella and Juliet smoothed her hair.

“I'm not really hungry,” she said. “I'll take the tram back to Sóller.”

“I'll see you back to Hotel Salvia,” he offered.

“No thank you, I'll be fine.” She held out her hand. “I hope we can stay friends.”

Henry shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Perhaps after a little time apart.” His face broke into a small smile. “How else would I get front row tickets to a Coldplay concert when they come to New Zealand?”

*   *   *

Juliet hurried to the tram stop and felt the cool breeze on her shoulders. She pictured Gabriella's flashing green eyes and hoped she could forgive her. She thought about Lionel and wondered if he would ever write a new song.

She stepped onto the tram and saw a familiar figure through the window. He had dark hair and wore a patterned shirt and silk slacks. She looked closer and realized it wasn't Lionel, it was a stranger. She closed her eyes and leaned against the hardwood bench.

chapter twenty-two

L
IONEL STOOD AT THE MARBLE
bar and stirred a Bloody Mary. He added pepper and Worcestershire sauce and took a small sip. He thought about Gideon's letter and his shoulders tightened.

What if Gideon was serious and really wanted his money? He could sell the flat in Chelsea but then he'd be living out of a suitcase. He pictured a succession of friends' Swiss ski chalets and New York penthouses. He imagined growing old and ending up in an efficiency in Euston.

He pictured his old Paris apartment in the first arrondissement with its Louis XIV furniture. He remembered thinking the French kept their rooms colder than the British and it was impossible to curl up with
Madame Bovary
on a spindly chair.

He sipped his drink and flashed on the day his bank manager froze his charge card. He rushed into the walnut offices on Bond Street and insisted there was a mistake. He remembered the manager pointing to the meticulous columns of debits and credits and flinched.

One of the greatest joys of his success was helping other people. He happily wrote a childhood friend a check to open a taco store in Belgravia. He was thrilled to get in on the ground floor of a holiday resort in the Congo.

He pictured Gideon with his Patek Philippe watch and Louis Vuitton sunglasses. Gideon didn't need the money, all his investments turned to gold.

He heard a knock on the door and called: “Come in, I'm in the living room.”

“Would you like a Bloody Mary?” He looked up at Juliet. “Gideon collects Bloody Mary recipes from St. Regises all over the world. The Misty Mary from the St. Regis Istanbul with turnip juice and the Chilli Padi Mary from the St. Regis Singapore with gingerroot.

“If it was up to me I'd just mix tomato juice with vodka. But he's always adding cumin or organic celery,” he mused. “I don't understand the benefit of exotic spices or organic vegetables when vodka rots your stomach.”

“It's a little early for a drink.” Juliet hesitated.

“It's never too early when your best friend behaves like Tiberius.” He sighed. “I remember when Gideon and I celebrated every gold record with an omelet at Spago's.

“Then he became consumed by power and status and started staying at the St. Regis in Moscow and New York. It's easy to feel like God when you look down on Fifth Avenue and the taxis resemble ants.

“But power can be dangerous, even God makes mistakes. Do you think He meant to bury Pompeii when Vesuvius erupted or wipe out an entire population with the Black Plague?

“If Gideon knew the damage he caused he may have acted differently.” His eyes dimmed and he stretched his long legs in front of him. “Of course I'm to blame, I let him tell me what to do.”

*   *   *

Lionel tossed his overnight bag on the thick ivory carpet and poured a glass of scotch. He gazed at the cream satin sofas and pink silk drapes and original Andy Warhols lining the walls. He saw the silver platter holding imported cheeses and designer chocolates and thought he'd never been so glad to be in Los Angeles.

He had spent three months at Best Westerns in Toledo and Chicago and Pittsburgh. He signed autographs at malls in Michigan and played at a stadium in the pouring rain in New Jersey. He felt the water seep through his shirt and ruin his leather loafers and wondered if he had been better off carrying Louis Vuitton luggage at Claridge's.

He didn't hear from Samantha or Gideon and drowned his pain in a diet of bourbon and cigarettes and minibar pretzels. He called Gideon's secretary from every city, but Rosemary said he was in Brazil or signing a new metal band in Finland. He rustled through his pockets and found the phone numbers girls shoved at him and almost picked up the phone. But he pictured someone seeing the misery in his eyes and tossed the notes in the garbage.

How could Samantha cheat on him with his best friend? They were like characters in a daytime soap opera. Then he pictured her smooth blond hair and long legs and felt the emptiness well up inside him. He stubbed out his cigarette and thought no matter what she did, he had to find a way to forgive her.

*   *   *

Now he carried his scotch into the bedroom and debated whether to take a nap or a shower. He gazed at the pink marble bathroom with its plush towels and silk robes and thought wealth and success had their virtues.

He walked into the closet and hung up his Hugo Boss blazer. He noticed the hangars were empty and Samantha's white Keds were missing. He pulled open the drawers and couldn't find her bras and cotton panties.

He walked into the bedroom and felt his heart pound. He saw an envelope propped on the bedside table and tore it open.

Dear Lionel,

I have gone back to London, please don't follow me. I was relieved when Donovan replaced me in the video; I never wanted to be onstage. But I remember sitting across from you at the caf
é
in Stratford-Upon-Avon and knew I couldn't stand in your way. You were like an astronaut determined to land on the moon and nothing was going to stop you.

You can be headstrong and stubborn so I think it's best we make a clean break. Please don't try to contact me, I have given Georgina strict instructions not to give out my number. And you don't want to knock on the door and cause a scene in front of Abigail.

I called you at every tour stop in Rosemary's schedule, but you were always checked out. I finally had to give up and admit we weren't the invincible couple I imagined.

You're not the first man to fall for a pretty face or large bust but I thought you were better than that. I can't say it didn't hurt to see you with Amber but I should have expected it. After all we are all human and you are more human than most. You can't write love songs if you are flawless, there would be nothing to write about.

Deep down I believed we were different but I guess all lovers do. We both read enough D. H. Lawrence to know anyone is capable of illicit lust and enough Tolstoy to realize every love story has a beginning and an end.

I can't say quite yet I wish you well because I am angry and hurt. But someday we will look back and remember eating spinach omelets at the Polo Lounge and seeing
Casablanca
at the Roxie Cinema. I loved you very much and I will miss you.

“What the bloody hell.” Lionel crumpled the paper. Suddenly he saw a copy of
People
on the bedside table. He glanced at the glossy photo and bold headline and his stomach turned over.

The photo was of him and Amber standing under the Empire State Building. She wore a low-cut pink dress and her honey blond hair tumbled over her shoulders. His hand circled her waist and his lips brushed her cheek. The headline read: “
IS AMERICA'S FAVORITE SINGING DUO NOW A ROMANTIC COUPLE?
”

It was the photo for the cover of their new album and he wondered how
People
got hold of it. Now he knew why Samantha went back to England. She thought he was having an affair with Amber.

Surely she would have contacted him and demanded to know what was going on? He and Samantha were madly in love and she must realize gossip magazines made an innocent kiss seem like a trip down the aisle. And if she did call him every night, why did he never get the messages? Rosemary had a detailed itinerary of the tour dates and hotels in every city.

He thought about Gideon and knew there was only one way to find out. He grabbed his keys and slipped on his leather loafers. He drove to Century City and took the elevator to Gideon's office. He strode past Rosemary at her sleek walnut desk and burst through the door.

Gideon looked up from his desk. He wore a blue silk Armani jacket and cream slacks. His hair was perfectly highlighted and he wore a gold Patek Philippe watch.

He nodded. “You look well, being on tour agrees with you. Donovan said the numbers were fantastic, you played sold-out shows in Tampa and Dallas.”

“You ruined my life,” Lionel stormed. “You are my best friend, how could you sleep with Samantha?”

“I haven't seen Samantha since the three of us had dinner at Mr. Chow.”

“A few nights before I left on tour I went to your house and Samantha's car was in the driveway,” Lionel continued. “I waited for Samantha for two days but she never came home. Rosemary said you were out of the office at a confidential location.”

Gideon stood up and walked to the sideboard. He selected a mushroom quiche and took a small bite.

“I was in China having talks with the government about opening a recording studio.”

“What was Samantha doing at your house?” Lionel asked.

Gideon shrugged. “Maybe she was asking Inga to borrow her potato pancake recipe.”

“You left a message on the answering machine saying it was safe to come over. You said there was a roasted chicken and a bottle of Rémy Martin and Lionel would never know.”

“You're suffering from overexhaustion from the tour.” Gideon raised his eyebrow. “I can't stand bloody answering machines, I never use them. Perhaps she ordered a surprise going-away dinner from Wolfgang Puck's and the maître d' called to say she could pick it up.”

Lionel clutched the
People
magazine and felt the sweat prickle on his forehead. Gideon was so calm and collected; he didn't know what to believe.

“I haven't talked to her in three months. I was too furious to call and she said she tried every hotel and I had always checked out. She left a letter that she went back to England.” He tossed the magazine on the desk. “How did this photo end up in
People
?”

Gideon shrugged. “You know those tour schedules, they're always changing. I'm sure Rosemary sent her an updated one but we add venues at the last minute.” He picked up the magazine.

“Amber looks wonderful in pink and your shirt brings out your eyes,” he mused. “Donovan's research studies showed fans reacted favorably to your being a couple. Your popularity quotient rose ten percent after the photos were released in
US
and
People
.”

“There are more photos?” Lionel gasped.

“
Seventeen
did a photo spread and you made the inside cover of
Hello!
” Gideon poured a glass of papaya juice. “Think about Mick Jagger and Jerry Hall or James Taylor and Carly Simon. Everybody likes a love story between stars, it makes them feel as if they are part of music royalty.”

“But it's not true, Amber and I didn't even play Uno together,” Lionel spluttered. “She has a blond boyfriend on the Olympic water polo team and she's never read Shakespeare.”

“Do you think Rock Hudson romanced Doris Day on the set of
Pillow Talk
? He was too busy making eyes at the male grip,” Gideon insisted. “Movie audiences lapped it up and they were one of the most successful duos in cinematic history.”

“Samantha believed it and now she doesn't want to see me.” Lionel walked to the door. “I have to go to London and explain. Tell Rosemary to book me on the first flight to Heathrow. I'll go back to the hotel and get the engagement ring out of the safe.”

“You might want to wait.” Gideon opened the desk drawer and took out a newspaper. He walked to the marble bar and filled a glass with vodka. “And you might want to drink this.”