What She Wants (86 page)

Backstage at Top Of The Pops, Nicole looked around her simple dressing room. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing you want?’ asked a beautiful girl whose job it was to make sure that artists had everything their demanding little hearts desired. Nicole, thinking of the horror stories of singers who insisted on making everyone’s life a nightmare with their demands, smiled warmly at the girl. ‘The only thing would be some lemon tea and honey for my throat, if that wouldn’t be too much trouble,’ she said politely.

The beautiful girl sighed with pleasure. If only they were all this easy. When that cow Lorelei had been in, she’d insisted on taking over four dressing rooms for her entourage, wanted six bottles of Krug in each room and had demanded that a top restaurant send over an organic fish dinner at great expense, which she had then only used to stub her cigarettes out in. Nobody had been too upset that Lorelei’s single had flopped so spectacularly. Darius, lounging at the door unnoticed by either of them, looked at Nicole proudly. She was incredible. The stunning looks, the voice of a seductive angel, and she was so sweet to people. Underneath that tough veneer she tried to keep up, she was as soft as butter. And she was going to be a huge star, he was sure of it. Nicole understood that she wouldn’t make it to the top by playing the prima donna. She knew, unlike lots of other people he’d worked with, that carving a career out as a successful star meant hard work, utter commitment and professionalism. So many of the people he met on the scene seemed to think that the only way to the top was to behave appallingly, assuming that rudeness, impossible demands and an ever-growing entourage made them more star-like. In Darius’s experience, the bigger the entourage, the bigger the ego. ‘Isn’t she lovely?’ said the Top of The Pops girl, coming out of the dressing room. ‘She is,’ Darius agreed, making Nicole look up in delight. ‘You’re here!’ she said, springing lightly to her feet. She pulled him into the room, shut the door and locked it. ‘I’ve missed you.’ He’d been in Sweden with a new band who were working on their album with the top Swedish producers, so he and Nicole hadn’t seen each other all week. They clung together, moulding their bodies into one. Darius’s mouth fastened onto Nicole’s eagerly. ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ he said hoarsely, holding her tightly to him as if he was afraid to let her out of his arms.

‘Oh me too,’ Nicole said, resting her head against his chest. It felt so nice there. She’d had such an incredible week, what with the single breaking all records for a debut, but in the midst of all the interviews and performances and signing sessions, Nicole had longed for a quiet evening with Darius where they could cuddle up on her new couch and talk and end up in her big bed to make love. ‘Bob Fellowes is waiting outside and Sam’s coming later,’ Darius said. ‘She’s so proud of you. So am I,’ he added gently. ‘You’re going to be a big star, darling.’ ‘Just promise me one thing,’ Nicole said. ‘Anything.’ ‘You’ll be there for me?’ ‘I promise.’

It was amazing how much junk one person could accumulate in just a few months, Sam thought as she hoisted the cardboard archive box upstairs to her apartment. She’d cleared her desk at Titus that afternoon and she was sure she’d rupture something from the weight of the junk she’d had to bring home. ‘All that minimalist, clean desk policy has to have a down side,’ laughed Lydia when she saw Sam going through the overflowing drawers in her desk. ‘Yeah, it does,’ Sam groaned. ‘You shove junk in the desk instead of leaving it on top.’ ‘See you tomorrow,’ Lydia said as she left. ‘And don’t forget to dress up.’ Lydia was organizing a leaving party for her the next evening. Sam couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a leaving party. In the apartment, she checked her e-mail and was delighted to get a chatty one from Hope.

Hi Sam, Hope you’re well. We’re all wonderful here. Matt is in fabulous form and he’s going to be in London

next week to sign contracts with the publishers. I hope you can meet up. Virginia and Mary-Kate are driving to Dublin with him. They’ve decided to fly to Germany and travel round B & Bs to see what standards Virginia should be aiming for. Mary-Kate says she can’t wait. She hasn’t had a holiday in years. Virginia keeps saying it’s because Mary-Kate won’t leave Redlion in case the whole place falls apart without her! We’re minding Dinky while Virginia is away, which has Millie in utter delight. She’s mad to get a dog and I’m not sure if that’s a good idea until the baby’s born. Dogs can get jealous of babies, they say. Mind you, Matt’s keen on a dog too. He says we should get a male dog to balance out the sexes thing. My latest scan shows that the baby’s a girl (we like Rosalie as a name, what do you think?) and he says that there’ll be two males as opposed to three females unless we get a male dog to balance things’. Honestly, what is he like? We’re going out to dinner with Eugene and Delphine tonight. They’re back from honeymoon and Delphine is mad to show off her tan. My other bit of good news comes courtesy of Delphine, who says that slimy Christy has left the hotel for good. He carried on like he owned the hotel but even managers are expendable. On the phone, Delphine said it was something to do with a nasty scene with a guest’s girlfriend round about the time you were over. There was some talk of a law suit and the owners fired him. I’m not surprised. I’ll have to drag her into the restaurant loo tonight to get the full story from her. How are Reenie, Sandra and Pammy? Everyone here loved them and says they have to come back again. And we’d all love to meet Nicole. Isn’t it wonderful the way her single is still number one?

never off the radio here, so her only problem if she came here is that she’d he mobbed walking down the street. Do phone soon, I haven’t spoken to you in ages, Love Hope.

Sam smiled as she turned the computer off. It was wonderful that everything had worked out for dear Hope. Sam couldn’t help wishing that things had worked out for her too. Still, she scooped up Tabitha from the floor and kissed her, she had the cats and her new company. She’d keep herself busy, that was the trick. When the cats were fed, she decided to drop across the road to see Felicity and George in the Greenwich Emporium. They’d loved her ideas for making their business profitable and were her first clients in Spike Solutions. She’d spent ages trying to think up a name for the new company and it was only when Spike had climbed onto the table and lain down on the paperwork that Sam had given in. She picked up her notes, put them in her briefcase, and left the apartment. It was a warm evening and as Sam opened the front gate, she looked automatically at Morgan’s house. The sign was down now. It was sold. She wondered where he was. George and Felicity were run off their feet as it was Thursday evening. After fifteen minutes discussing her plan, they said they’d have to run because they were nearly fully booked. ‘Stay and eat,’ insisted George. ‘No,’ said Sam. ‘I won’t be very cost effective if I keep eating into your profits.’ ‘Sit,’ commanded George. ‘A carafe of red?’ Sam forked up rocket salad and read her notes, stopping only to put down the fork and take another sip of wine. The restaurant was buzzing, mainly couples gazing deep into each other’s eyes. Felicity and George waved at her whenever they passed, which somehow made her feel even more alone.

Her notes began to blur as she thought back over the past few weeks. So much had happened in her professional life. She’d undergone a total revolution work-wise, yet her private life was as unchanged as ever. She didn’t know how she’d have coped without Spike and Tabitha to go home to. Their feline adoration made life bearable and when she felt down, she gathered Tabitha up in her arms and stroked the tabby cat until Spike appeared, outraged at being unloved. ‘Oh my goodness,’ gasped Felicity, rushing past with wine and a bottle opener. Sam looked up to see Felicity blushing as pink as the bottle of rose she was carrying. Sam knew only one person who had that effect on Felicity. Morgan stood behind her. Large as life and instantly making people look up in the crowded restaurant. In shock, Sam spilled her wine. It dripped ruby red all over the tablecloth, looking like a bullet wound in a bad movie. She could only stare at it, feeling her pulse rocketing up to marathon-running level in an instant. ‘I’ll get a cloth,’ said Felicity and whisked off. Sam looked up at Morgan. He was tanned and healthy looking, as if he’d just stepped off a plane from somewhere hot. He was wearing his wrecked old jeans and a soft grey shirt that revealed some of the strong chest that Sam sometimes dreamed about. His hair was shorter, though still a million miles away from a short back and sides. But his face was the same: the hawk nose giving him the look of some medieval conquistador, the narrowed treacly eyes surveying her. If he’d turned up on a crusader horse with a broadsword in one hand, Sam wouldn’t have been at all surprised. ‘May I sit down?’ She waved at him to do so. She wasn’t being rude: it was just that she couldn’t find words. Finally, her voice came back to her. ‘How have you been?’ she said, knowing she sounded incredibly distant but not able to help herself. She was too stunned by his appearance to say anything intelligent.

‘I’ve been miserable,’ he announced. ‘Miserable as hell and it’s all your fault.’ A couple of people looked round. Sam was still mute. ‘That’s why I’m here: to take it out on you, Ms Smith.’ He got to his feet, and then sank to his knees. Everyone was now looking. People didn’t get on their knees in front of other people much these days, certainly not in restaurants. Sam stared at him, shocked. ‘It’s all her fault, you see,’ Morgan announced even more loudly, for the benefit of the audience, who had now all stopped pretending to eat and were watching happily. ‘You’re prickly, you boss me around, you think my taste in clothes is execrable.’ Sam flushed with each remark. ‘But despite all that, and despite the fact that you seem to think I’m the least discriminating lover since Casanova, I’m crazy about you.’ Sam wasn’t sure she could have heard him right. ‘Did you get that?’ Morgan asked the couple next door who were listening so shamelessly that they’d moved their chairs to get a better view. ‘Oh yes,’ said the woman, admiringly. ‘She bosses you around but you like it?’ ‘Not like it so much,’ said Morgan in considering tones, ‘but I love her, so you see I can cope with it.’ ‘Aaah,’ went up the cry around the restaurant. ‘Not too much bossing around,’ insisted the male half of the couple. ‘Not too much,’ agreed Morgan. ‘Just a little bit because then, we can fight. I can show her that I am in charge, naturally, being a man, and then,’ he gazed at Sam with a look so hot it could have scorched all the linen in the restaurant, ‘we can make up. Which is the best bit,’ he breathed. Sam was glad he could breathe: she couldn’t. ‘Making up is the best bit, isn’t it?’ he said, moving closer to her. ‘I’m getting too old for this,’ he said as his knees creaked. ‘My joints aren’t up to it.’

‘Cod liver oil is great for that,’ volunteered a woman at the table on the other side. ‘Do you want to make up?’ said Morgan. He was so close, she could smell the sweet mintiness of his breath and it reminded her of the first time they met. ‘I’m sorry I got the wrong idea about Maggie,’ she gasped. ‘Maggie is wonderful but she thinks it’s acceptable to have a crush on her stepfather - it’s very embarrassing, not to mention inappropriate in this day and age seeing as I’m her stepdad,’ Morgan said. ‘She does it to play Val and me off against each other, and you walked in at the wrong time.’ ‘I’m so sorry,’ Sam said again. ‘Stop saying sorry,’ Morgan commanded. ‘I’m not used to hearing you say it.’ She laughed and slapped him playfully on the arm. ‘Oh, hit me again, I like it,’ he growled. Then he leaned forward and kissed her so hard that Sam could feel every inch of her body quivering with lust. Only the sound of applause made them draw apart. ‘Show’s over,’ said Morgan, getting creakily to his feet. He pulled Sam up from her seat. ‘We’re going home to make up.’ ‘George, Felicity, I owe you for dinner…’ began Sam helplessly. ‘It’s fine,’ said George, looking like a cat who’d got the cream. ‘But I want to …’ ‘Shoo,’ beamed Felicity. ‘Don’t come back until you’re married,’ yelled an elderly man near the restaurant door. Morgan shoved the door open and they were on the street, the sounds of everyone clapping and whooping behind them. ‘What did you do that for?’ gasped Sam, feeling her heartbeat get back to normal. Morgan took her hand in his and Sam’s heartbeat raced again.

‘To shock you into realizing how I feel about you. If I’d met you on the street, you would have gone all formal and behaved like the perfectly in control MD.’ ‘I wouldn’t,’ she protested. ‘You would,’ he insisted. He took a deep breath. ‘It’s taken me a long time to tell you but I’ve been attracted to you ever since I met you. You came into my life like this raging fury, a small blonde dynamo who wrenched my stereo plug out and gave me a bruise the size of a melon on my shin.’ He pulled up his jeans to show her the spot. ‘Big baby,’ she retorted, ‘I was only wearing espadrilles. It hurt me much more than it hurt you.’ ‘Possibly.’ This time, his arm went round her shoulders and it felt only natural for Sam to slip her free arm around his waist as they walked. ‘You are totally different from any other woman I’ve ever met,’ Morgan continued. ‘Is that good or bad?’ she asked. ‘Good,’ he replied. They crossed the road and ended up standing outside Sam’s apartment building, right beside Morgan’s old house. ‘I couldn’t believe you’d sold it,’ she said, gazing up at the beautifully restored house. ‘I haven’t. The sale fell through. I’ve decided to live here. If I can find the right person to live in with me.’ Sam felt a quiver of excitement run down her spine. ‘And I found your apology,’ he added. ‘It had been shoved in a drawer. I think I’ll have it framed. And enlarged.’ Sam laughed. ‘You know, for a woman who’s supposed to be cool and make calm decisions, you’re very hot-headed, Ms Smith,’ he continued. ‘You jumped to all sorts of conclusions when you came in that night of Maggie’s party. You thought I was some ageing lothario when all I was doing was giving up my home to my stepdaughter for the night. And you thought that Maggie was my girlfriend.’

‘You never told me the truth,’ objected Sam. ‘If you’d given me all the facts, it would have been different.’