"Lemme guess," I say, "he's standing around
in a tight t-shirt with a cigarette, doing a shitty impression of
James Dean for a bunch of dumbass girls who fall for his bad boy
act."
Manda frowns. "Ummm, no, that doesn't sound like him at
all. Wait, lemme see the photo again. "She holds the phone steady
with two hands and squints. "No, that's definitely him. He's
soooo
fucking
talented."
"Talented?" I ask, surprised. "At
what?"
Manda smiles, reaches out and takes my
hand, picking the right blurry shape at the second attempt. "Come
on, I'll show you. God, you're so lucky."
I turn to Penny as Manda pulls me from the
couch, beckoning her along. "Come on, Pen." I lower my voice to a
whisper. "Don't leave me alone with..." I tilt my head towards
Manda.
Penny's out of her seat before I even
finish speaking. "Hey, you don't have to ask me twice. I want to
see this hot asshole who got your My Little Pony panties in a
bunch. Lead the way, Manda."
Manda guides me and Penny through the
labyrinthine house, avoiding the drunken crowds and stepping over
the slumbering bodies of those who've already let the booze get the
better of them. There are always a few newbies who don't know how
to pace themselves. They'll quickly learn their lesson when they
wake in the morning with shaved eyebrows and cocks drawn on their
faces.
The house really is huge. I expected the
den to be... well, like a den, just a small room somewhere in the
back of the house, but it's actually an entire outbuilding halfway
down the enormous garden. Manda finds a way into the building in
the dark, almost pulls all three of us into a hot tub that's in the
middle of the hallway for some reason, and then finally leads us
through a set of French doors into what could easily be the
rehearsal area for a small but very comfortable orchestra. A couple
of couches are arranged to face a beautiful glossy black grand
piano. About two dozen people – mostly girls – are sat on the
couches and the floor around them, their eyes fixed on the guy
playing in the darkness.
It seems as if nobody has been able to find
a light switch, so the piano is bathed in the light of the moon
streaming from above through a skylight. Everything else is
shrouded in darkness, the only other light being the dim glow of a
cigarette that has burned down to the filter, forgotten, in an
ashtray sitting on the piano beside a tumbler of whiskey.
I peer through the darkness, trying to make out the figure
sitting on the stool before the piano.
That can't really be him,
right?
I
pick my way carefully over a few resting bodies until I can get a
better view, and as I approach the piano the moon emerges from
behind a cloud and sends a shaft of light down from
above.
Rafe plays with his eyes closed, his
fingers dancing gently across the keys as if the music is flowing
from his soul. He's dressed in the same torn, scruffy jeans and
t-shirt he was wearing earlier, but his expression makes him look
like an entirely different person. As the music flows through his
fingers his face softens. Gone is the smug, dickish smirk, and his
brow is no longer furrowed in a belligerent scowl. As he plays he
looks at peace, as if the music has allowed him to step out of
himself, if only for a moment.
"That's the song from, ummm, Ocean's 11,
right?" Penny whispers in my ear.
"Yeah," I reply, still staring at Rafe's
fingers caressing the keys. "It's called Claire de Lune."
I'm not a huge fan of classical music. In
fact, I only know the name of this piece because I've heard it in
so many movies, but it's one of my favorites. I have a couple of
versions of the piece on iTunes, but I've never heard it played
this well.
I just don't know how he does it. The piano
is completely alien to me – I can't even play Chopsticks – but it's
clear Rafe isn't just a talented amateur.
I'm losing myself in the music, all my
anger at Rafe forgotten, at least for the moment. The way he's
playing is just too beautiful. It's impossible to hate anyone while
watching their fingers dance across the keys like that.
The spell that seems to have been cast over
the room lasts until the final note dies away. As it fades a
collective, contented sigh passes through the darkness as Rafe
takes a sip from his glass and taps a cigarette out of his
pack.
"Encore!" a voice calls out in the
darkness, quickly joined by another. "Yeah, play another!"
Rafe smiles, clearly enjoying the
attention, and calls out to the crowd. "Just one more then I'm
done, OK? What'll it be?"
A few voices call out vague requests, all
along the lines of "Umm, do you know that really good one? With
the, ummm... oh, what's it called? You know the one I mean?"
Rafe stubs out his just-lit cigarette,
blows a stream of smoke through the shaft of moonlight, and
stretches out his fingers. "Do you guys know Elton John?"
A ripple of nods passes through the
audience, and Rafe grins and turned back to the piano. "Thank God,
or I'd have to slap some sense into you." He takes a second to
prepare, grabs another gulp of Scotch, then launches into the
opening notes of Tiny Dancer.
I feel a hand squeeze my arm, and turn to see Penny leaning
over to me with a huge grin on her face. "
Fuck,
Maddy, how do you keep your hands off
him?"
I take a sip from my beer to avoid
answering. The fact is that I just don't know what to say. Rafe is
an absolute asshole, there's no denying it. He's rude, and hostile,
and cruel, but... well, when he's sat in front of that piano
there's something about him that makes my heart race.
Blue jean baby... L.A. lady... Seamstress
for the band...
My breath quickens as Rafe began to sing.
Most of the people I've heard sing this song try for an Elton John
impression that just comes off as bad karaoke, but Rafe... he sings
in his own voice, rich and deep, feeling every note as it flows
from him. He sings earnestly, without a hint of embarrassment or
self consciousness.
Now she's in me... Always with me... Tiny
dancer, in my hand...
A few of the girls start to sing along, and by the second
verse the room is filled from wall to wall with noise. I almost
expect people to start waving their lighters back and forth in the
air. I watch, amazed, as Rafe manages to lead a room full of
strangers in song. It's as if the asshole I met just a few hours
ago has been replaced, with a snap of fingers, with the charismatic
life of the party. Everyone
loves
him.
Piano man... He makes his stand... In the
auditorium...
Rafe looks out into the audience, and after a moment of
searching his eyes rest on me. I hold my breath. My heart jumps
into my throat as he gives me a smile and a wink.
Jesus.
I think my panties
just melted. He's still looking at me, our eyes locked in the dim
light, and it feels like we're the only two people on earth. All I
can do is smile back at him.
The words she knows, the tune she
hums...
Fuck it. I may have a few beers in me, and
that tequila is making my head swim a little, but as soon as Rafe
stops singing I'm going to kiss him. I don't care if it's weird. I
don't care that people will see me. I don't care that he's a rude,
abrasive asshole who stinks of cigarette smoke and makes me want to
tear my hair out. My libido has just taken control of my brain, and
it's steering me due Rafe.
Hold me closer, tiny dancer... Count the
headlights on the highway...
I can't help but join in as he reaches the
chorus. I can't sing for shit, but right now I just don't care.
There's nowhere else I'd want be than here, basking in Rafe's glow,
singing my heart out, grinning like an idiot as this insanely sexy
guy smiles at me from across the room.
I can feel my body tingle with anticipation
as the song winds down. My heart is beating like a drum, my hands
are shaking, and between my legs... well, stuff's happening, let's
leave it at that.
Finally Rafe reaches the end of the song. His fingers skip
over the keys, and the moment the final note fades I feel a thrill
of excitement as he kicks back the stool, his eyes still fixed on
me, and starts walking in my direction. Jesus, my fingers are
tingling. He's just a few steps away now.
OK, calm down, Maddy. Don't lose your
shit. Just breathe, OK? In and out, in and out.
He's here, just a step away. He reaches his
hand out to me, and I reach forward to take it. This is going to be
–
Someone jostles me from behind, shoving me
out of the way. In the darkness I spin sideways, trying to stay on
my feet, but my knee hits something hard and I go tumbling
backwards into the lap of some girl dozing drunkenly on the sofa. I
swing my arm out to steady myself and catch someone's drink, and I
gasp as the cup upends itself on my dress.
"Hey!" yells the girl I landed on. "What
the fuck are you doing?"
"I'm sorry! Sorry! I just... I fell.
Sorry." I roll off the sofa onto the floor, landing on yet another
person hidden in the darkness, and I crawl blindly though what
feels like a sea of bodies, apologizing all the way, until finally
my hands touch solid ground.
My dress is just
glued
to my skin. The drink caught me full in the chest,
and I'm not wearing a fucking bra under this stupid summer dress.
Thank God it's dark in here, because the ladies are definitely on
show.
I look up into the darkness hoping I'll see Rafe coming to
my aid, but there's no hand held out to lift me up. No concerned
face. Nothing but Rafe standing by the sofa with his back turned
away from me, his hands grasping the waist of the girl he
was
really
smiling at while he was playing. The girl who was standing
behind me. The girl who pushed me over the edge of the sofa in her
rush to stick her tongue down Rafe's throat.
Fuck. My. Life.
I stumble through the outbuilding, my hands
held protectively over my chest, searching for someplace I can dry
myself off and maybe have a little cry. Why does it seem that every
time I see Rafe I end up angry and humiliated, with my tits on
display?
Jesus, this building is huge. It seems to be the place
Manda's dad uses to store everything he can't fit in the main
house: hot tub, pool, music room, gym... it's just a random
assortment of
stuff.
The gym is insane. It seems like Manda's
dad was planning to host two dozen fitness freaks, because this
place is big enough for an army. There's a row of four treadmills
along one wall, but only two people living in the house. Some
people just have too much fucking money.
I feel my way through the rows of exercise
machines in the dim light, moving to the back wall where I find the
shower room behind a sliding door. The light switch doesn't work –
I get the feeling this whole outbuilding is new, and hasn't been
hooked up to the power yet – but as long as the water's running I
don't care. The gym looks out onto the lawn through a set of full
length windows that run along one side of the room, so as long as I
keep the sliding door propped open a little there's just enough
moonlight to see by.
As I strip down to my underwear before the
mirror I see the extent of the damage. Whatever is what that
spilled on me was some kind of nasty bright red concoction that
smells like an energy drink mixed with cheap vodka, and it's
completely covered the front of my blue dress all the way down to
the waist. The dress is finished. There's no way that stain is ever
coming out, but right now I'm only interested in getting rid of the
worst of it, drying the dress until my nipples don't show through
then getting home, climbing into bed and staying there forever. I'm
done with this damned party.
That fucking
hurt.
As I run the dress under the tap I can feel the
tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I know it must sound stupid
now, but I really believed that Rafe was smiling at
me.
I don't know. Maybe
I just
wanted
to believe it so much that I convinced myself.