Читать книгу Not My Daughter - Suzy K. Quinn - Страница 20

The night after I slept with Michael, I woke to the sun rising through slatted metal blinds. It was cold on the tour bus, with cloying, damp air. The window was slightly open and morning flowed over my naked body. My mouth was dry and sugary. I wanted to shower and brush my teeth, but I was in heaven. Everything was perfect.

I looked around glossy, fibreglass walls, smiling, smiling. I’d fallen asleep wrapped up in Michael’s arms. As I blinked away sleep and felt my nakedness, I rolled around to find Michael’s eyes were open too.

‘Good morning, my gorgeous girl,’ he said. ‘Welcome to this beautiful day.’

He had a craggy face that looked even older in the morning light and he smelt of beer and whiskey. There were lines all around his eyes and one huge groove along his forehead. But to me he was beautiful. My handsome prince. My hero. His eyes were intense, mesmerizing pools of light.

‘I think I love you,’ I told Michael, eyes all big and dumb and earnest. Jesus. What an idiot I was.

Michael said: ‘Love is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? In all its forms.’

‘So … where do we go from here?’ I asked.

‘You can’t always have a plan. Right?’ Michael pulled me into his arms, holding me against his bare chest.

‘We’ll see each other again, won’t we?’

‘The band and I leave for Washington tonight,’ said Michael. ‘We’re doing some photos today, then we hit the road. The big world tour, starting in the US.’ He took my hand and drew a road down my palm. ‘Washington. Atlanta. Houston. You wanna come with us? Be our lucky mascot?’

‘You’d take me with you?’ I asked, sitting up. ‘On tour?’

Michael laughed, showing white teeth in black stubble. ‘You know, it’s just travelling on a bus with a load of old men. That’s all a tour is. But sure. I’d love to have you along. We’ll keep you a little bit quiet, though.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, my wife can’t find out about you, right? Or there’d be trouble.’

I sat bolt upright. ‘Your wife?’

‘You must know about Diane. You’re a fan, aren’t you?’

‘I knew you got married when you were really young. Your childhood sweetheart. But I thought …’ I shook my head. ‘I didn’t realize … you’re still together?’

‘Together is too strong a word for it. We’re friends. Good friends. Not a husband and wife in the true sense. But it would break the poor girl’s heart if I put her through a divorce right now. She’s just lost her father.’

Happiness drained away like warm bathwater, leaving me cold and exposed.

‘I would never have stayed last night if …. I had no idea you were still married.’

‘I told you.’ Michael lay back then, arms falling away from me. ‘Diane and I are just friends these days. But it’s your choice, Lorna. If it’s not meant to be, it’s not meant to be. I’ll tell you something though – last night was magic.’

A lump hit my throat when he said my name. ‘It was more than magic. Last night was the best night of my life.’

I sure didn’t know about playing it cool back then …

‘You and I have a soul connection,’ said Michael, stroking my hair. ‘I felt it the moment I saw you. I believe in that kind of love. Soul love. Not bits of paper, who belongs to who. Boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, all those labels. You love who you love when you love them. But it sounds like the world down here has a hold over you. The planets aren’t aligning.’

‘I have to go.’ I pulled a blanket around my body and searched the shiny floor for my clothes, tears coming.

Michael sat up, watching me. ‘Listen, you blew me away last night. Totally blew me away. We had a good time together. Soul mates always meet again. Maybe not in this life but another one.’

As I opened the bedroom door, I saw two other sleeping bodies in the lounge area: girls from outside the stage doors last night. They were naked and partially covered with blankets.

It looked sordid and I felt the cheapness of it all – young girls sleeping with musicians who couldn’t care less about them.

Michael came to the door. ‘I can see that pretty little brain working. Put all that down. All that stress. That’s what gave you cancer.’ He put a hand to my chest. ‘We’re old souls, you and I. We’ll meet again somewhere, somehow.’

My chest felt warm with his touch. Like he was imparting some kind of energy.

‘I wish you weren’t married.’

Michael kissed my head. ‘Danny will take you home. Okay? We’ve got my little Jaguar F-Type tucked under this bus, believe it or not. It’s in the hold, right underneath us. How about that? Don’t say anything to the press, will you? Don’t be that girl.’ He pushed the door all the way open. ‘Danny,’ he shouted down the bus. ‘Danny – this girl needs a ride home.’

The driver poked his head out from the cab at the front.

‘You’ll be safe with Danny,’ said Michael, slinging his arm around my shoulder in a pally way. ‘I’ve known this man for years. He’ll look after you. Okay, love?’

The term of endearment felt dismissive. Disconnected.

I felt the cold, hard thump of the bedroom door closing behind me.