I Knew You Were Trouble

Chapter Eighteen

Cape Town, South Africa

Through the broad window of the suite on the fifth floor, a spectacular panoramic view of Table Mountain is visible under a cloudless blue sky. It makes sense – on arrival at the hotel, I discovered that this is called the Table Mountain Suite. The boys are staying at another exclusive five-star hotel, nestled in the centre of the Victoria and Albert Waterfront in Cape Town, a luxurious Condé Nast Traveler hotel. Along with the remainder of the road crew, myself, Duncan and Meredith have been staying a stone’s throw away at the Old Foundry, a beautifully designed property that is entirely charming, and about a tenth of the price.

Every minute of the boys’ time in Cape Town has been commandeered by rehearsals, interviews, and Rebel Heart fever. Three back-to-back shows were scheduled, with one remaining. I had to plead with Ziggy for a few hours to squeeze in an interview. In front of two separate cameras and under the lights, Jean-Baptiste Peltier has taken a while to relax into the process. Perhaps unsurprisingly, along with Miller, he is the member of the band with whom I feel least acquainted. His English, J.B. explained, had been better than average before he’d joined the band, but he almost hadn’t been allowed to audition when an American producer felt that his grasp of the language wasn’t up to standard, which made him more determined to fight his corner. There are several times when he’s faltered, talking about his low-key, rural upbringing in a town outside Saint-étienne, going against his French father’s wishes to study law in order to become a singer, which his deeply spiritual Moroccan mother encouraged him to do. Despite his smooth caramel skin, chiselled looks, the notorious pillowy lips and broad shoulders, he’s quiet. Understated. When he is alone and without the support of his band mates, it is apparent that J.B. doesn’t possess their level of assurance or showmanship.

‘Tell me about your son,’ I ask him after about thirty minutes of discussion, trying to remain focused on the task at hand, the memory of Aidan’s kisses heavily affecting my concentration. ‘Tell me about Xavi. Did you plan to have a child?’

J.B. looks shocked. ‘No, I didn’t plan it. But these things… they have a habit of happening when you least expect it. I love Xavi. He’s such a blessing. But, you know, babies… with as much joy that they bring, they can also bring poison to a relationship.’

I frown. It’s not what I expected him to say. ‘Poison? That’s a strong word to use in connection with a helpless infant.’

He looks flustered. ‘ Non , non , non , this is not what I mean. I mean, you lose each other, everything changes…’

‘So… you felt you didn’t get time for each other anymore?’

He looks awkward, embarrassed. He gives a shrug. ‘I think I didn’t know what to do. At the time. This job takes me around the world. It felt easier, I guess, to…’

His words hit me full pelt in the stomach, bringing back so many unsavory memories of my own father. ‘To what? To leave? To walk out?’

‘I didn’t walk out. No, it was not like that.’

‘How long have you known her?’

‘Audrey? All my life.’

‘And did you ever think about asking Audrey how it felt when you broke things off?’

This time, he looks stunned. He runs one hand over his scalp, uncomfortable. I may not like doing it, but I want to see how far I can push this issue.

‘Lexi… you know this life that I now have… you’ve seen it for yourself. It can get crazy sometimes.’

‘What do you mean by that? You mean girls throwing themselves at you?’

‘No. You are misreading my words. What I mean is… I don’t get to play with my son everyday. I don’t get to take him to watch football. Or go to the beach. I am not there for his mother. All I can do is make sure they are well taken care of… but none of it matters because I am not present in their lives.’

J.B. breathes out, guilt etched into his features.

‘Then why did you end your relationship with Audrey? Someone who knows you better than anyone?’

‘Because… the time away from her, it was…’ He mutters something indintinguiable in French. ‘It was not working. You think I do not know that people judge me for that? Every day I live with this…’ He presses a balled-up fist to his chest. ‘This regret.’

‘Let’s take a break for a few minutes,’ I blurt, pausing the recording.

I go straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I’m trembling, not at J.B.’s words, but at the memory of my father’s last argument with my mother, the one that drove a knife blade into their relationship. I remember my mother, doubled over on the living room carpet, her body wracked with sobs, and I try to stop my own rush of tears, but the strength of feeling is too strong, even now.

To stop myself, I think about Aidan. Though we haven’t been able to see much of one another, when he is with me, I feel a happiness that blocks out anything else. When he looks at me, I feel safe. When he kisses me, I feel emotions that I never thought I would feel, for anyone. And despite all my reservations, it feels right.

There is a soft knocking at the door to the bathroom.

‘Lexi. Is everything alright in there?’ J.B. calls from outside.

I open the door a fraction. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I needed a moment.’

He looks awkward. ‘You want to carry on, or we can stop if you like?’

I bow my head. ‘I had a father who left,’ I say. ‘Please don’t think I’m trying to force my opinions on you. I’m sure you had your reasons. I’m not judging you.’

‘But what you said,’ J.B. sighs, once more running his hands over his shaved scalp, ‘about asking Audrey. You are right. I made the decision on my own. I never asked her how she felt about any of it. It was all about me. No one’s ever asked me that before.’

I open the door wider, wiping my eyes. ‘Would you be willing to admit that on camera?’ I ask him.

In the corridor, I wait for the lift to come, my three Peli cases of lighting and camera equipment on wheels beside me, ready to transport back to the Old Foundry hotel. Though Duncan is better, I told him I could manage packing everything up on my own. I feel pleased with how the interview with J.B. turned out, and he has asked me to film a conversation he has over a laptop with his son, so I can see how the relationship works whilst he’s away.

When the lift doors open, Ziggy is inside with Aidan. The two are exchanging words. Aidan grants me a big smile.

I keep my eyes focused on Ziggy. ‘Room for one more?’

‘I’ll help,’ Aidan says, exiting the lift and helping me wheel the Peli cases inside.

I’m not sure whether Aidan has told any of the band that we’ve kissed, but I know for a fact that he’s not said anything to Ziggy. And kissing is all that we’ve done – on my insistence that we take things slow – at least for now.

‘Thank you,’ I hum, raising my eyes to him and sending my heart into a spasm. Inside the lift, we stand against opposite walls.

‘How’d J.B.’s interview go?’ Ziggy asks.

‘Very good,’ I respond. ‘He was very honest.’

‘Poor lad never gets to see his boy,’ Ziggy mutters, before he turns his attention back to Aidan. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, I get why you gotta go,’ he says. ‘I don’t get why she doesn’t get that you’re in the middle of a bloody tour, and that it’s all stuff you don’t need on your plate.’

I’m guessing Ziggy’s talking about Samara Al-Noori. Aidan explained everything whilst we were in his room last night. That’s he’s been invited – purely as a friend – to her brother’s wedding in the United Arab Emirates, and that he felt obligated to attend.

Aidan leans his head against the back of the lift. ‘It’s twenty-four hours, Zig,’ he says. ‘You won’t even notice me gone. I’ll miss one interview. Jesus, we can just tell people I’m unwell or something. It’s not a big deal.’

‘People are talking, Aidey. They’re talking about you. They’re not talking about Caleb and his antics anymore, they’re talking about Aidan McArthur and Taylor bloody Wetherill. Haven pop star, remember? You don’t turn up to a scheduled interview, people think there’s more to it than you being ill. They’ll think you’re avoiding questions. It only stirs the pot.’

I keep my head down, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He looks calm, as though nothing fazes him.

‘They can think what they like,’ Aidan says, running his hands through his hair just as the doors open to the lobby.

At the ground floor, Aidan steps forward and helps me wheel the Peli cases out of the lift. ‘You want help taking these to a car?’ he asks.

‘If you don’t mind,’ I say.

His eyes dance as he smiles at me. ‘Why would I mind?’

I let him walk beside me, and everything is tingling again. He has that effect on me.

‘Oh, and Lexi,’ Ziggy says behind me.

I turn around. ‘Yes?’

‘Sorry, I forgot to mention something in the lift back there. The lads have requested a moratorium on filming in Dubai. Just for a few days, alright? So, no cameras. You can pick things up again once we get to Rome.’

I nod. ‘Fine,’ I say, even though I already have twenty questions.

Aidan walks beside me to the exit. ‘No filming?’ I ask him, my brow raised.

‘Wasn’t my decision,’ he says.

‘Am I allowed to know whose it was?’

‘Miller’s.’

I give him a look. He’s hiding a smile.

‘I didn’t argue it. Why would I argue anything that advocates you spending more of your spare time with me?’

Outside, the temperature hovers around twenty-two degrees. There are no girls gathered outside the hotel, due to tight security restrictions. There’s a car outside waiting for me. The driver sees me and pops open the boot.

Aidan wheels the Peli cases to the car, loading them inside. Leaving the boot open, he checks that there’s no one else around before putting one arm behind my back and pulling me closer to him. ‘I still can’t believe they put you in a different hotel.’

‘No kisses in public, remember?’ I remind him with a coy smile. ‘We talked about this.’

‘I don’t care if Ziggy sees.’

I ease back from his embrace. ‘Well, I do. Silverpix can’t find out about this.’

‘About what?’

‘About… whatever this is.’

Aidan sobers. He takes my hand. ‘Will you come and visit me tonight? Before the final show? I have to go to the airport straight after. I need to see you before I leave.’

Samara Al-Noori is sending Aidan a private jet to pick him up. Aidan’s ex-girlfriend certainly isn’t short of money, and it makes me insecure, though I’m trying hard to act unfazed.

‘How would I find you?’

‘I’ll ask Bodhi to fetch you. Make sure we can be alone.’ He exhales shakily. ‘All I want is for us to be alone.’

He glances behind him as two strangers emerge from the hotel through a revolving door, walking the other way. Aidan leans back, checking for signs of Ziggy back inside the lobby.

‘One kiss. Please,’ he says as he comes back to me.

‘Later.’

His expression is pained. ‘What if I can’t wait?’

I lean up, brushing a chaste kiss against his warm cheek. ‘I will see you later,’ I whisper, and close the boot, walking around to the passenger side of the car.

‘Tonight,’ he says. ‘Promise me.’

‘I promise,’ I say with another smile, and get into the car.

I dress with Aidan in mind: a white pair of loose linen trousers, paired with a snug black vest top and my hair tied back.

Ziggy’s edict probably should annoy me more than it does. When it comes to filmmaking, I’ve never been good at individuals telling me what I can and cannot capture. I often take words like, ‘you can’t film that’ as a personal challenge, if only to see what I can get away with. Yet the idea of spending some time with Aidan in Dubai fills me with excitement, and it’s for that reason alone I’m willing to go along with any suspension.

It’s a pleasant twenty-minute walk from the hotel to Cape Town Stadium for the final show in Cape Town, and Duncan’s been craving fresh air. Meredith has our stage passes, and our kit is already on the scene. I feel a sense of giddiness that I try to conceal.

‘Drugs, aye,’ Duncan is commenting about the moratorium on filming in Dubai. ‘Gotta be. They don’t want to be caught on film possessing or taking anything.’

‘You think that’s it? You think it’s just partying?’ I ask.

‘Either that or one of them’s got something to hush up.’

‘Apparently Miller wanted it, and got the others to agree.’

‘I heard Miller’s got a friend who lives in the Dubai Marina,’ Meredith pipes up. ‘He’s throwing a big party for him whilst he’s in town.’

‘How did you hear that?’

‘Tun told me. I don’t know where he gets his intel but it’s, like… golden.’

I almost feel guilty that I know exactly where Tun is getting his intel from. It’s called pillowtalk.

We’re almost there and need to get our lanyards ready for security. Duncan clicks his tongue. ‘I say we down tools and just let them get their kicks for five minutes.’

I’m getting myself a drink in the crew room when Bodhi enters, making a beeline towards me.

‘Aidey asked me to come get you,’ he says in a low voice.

A shiver travels down my spine as I put down the drink.

Following Bodhi down another bland-looking corridor, I check my watch. The support act is already halfway through their set, Duncan already upstairs and preparing himself up to film. A bubble of disappointment bursts involuntarily in my chest. Aidan isn’t going to have long.

Bodhi stops outside a door, giving a quick double knock. He waits, then holds it open, turning and granting me a smile.

I thank him, taking a step forward. I feel my heart slam into my ribcage as Bodhi closes the door behind me.

Aidan is stood in the centre of the slightly soulless room, arms clasped behind his back, in full costume, his collar pulled up, hair sweeping into his eyes, as though he’s been waiting in that position for some time. The lights in the room are dim, save for the bright bulbs illuminating the mirror behind him.

We are alone.

Aidan walks over. He passes me, reaching the door. Then he locks it.

A moment later, I take three steps forward into his waiting arms.

Our kisses are ravenous, his lips warm and welcoming. Very quickly, I am lost in him, his hands caressing my body, our tongues colliding, my body caught in a powerful grasp, the pleasure fogging up my brain until I can’t think. There’s an ache between my thighs as he walks me backwards towards a sofa against the back wall.

He lowers me down, his body covering mine. We kiss for some time, Aidan settling between my legs. I can feel how hard he is, his length straining through the material of his costume. His fingers tease the edge of my vest top, sliding underneath until they graze the hem of my bra, and his hand slides over the contours of my breast.

‘Can I touch you?’ he asks me and I hum affirmatively in response. He shifts his position so that he’s beside me. His hand slides from my breast, out from underneath my top before it skims south over my belly button. My breath catches as I feel the elastic waist of my trousers stretch out, before I open my legs wider and his fingers dip underneath the lace hem of my underwear and sink assuredly down into my plump, swollen folds, already wet with my own arousal. I sigh heavily, because this is what I imagine when I’m alone with my thoughts at night.

Within a few seconds, there is a loud rap at the door. ‘Less than two minutes, Aidey!’ a voice shouts from the other side of the door.

‘Fuck,’ he whispers without flinching, kissing me again, expertly finding my centre, stroking me at just the right tempo, his fingers dipping inside me, then coming back to the point of maximum pleasure in movements that have my hips writhing, until I think I might pass out at the pleasure of it all.

‘Do you need to go?’ I whisper.

‘Not without making you come first,’ he breathes and I arch my back as he continues to stroke me. ‘We cannot have sex on this sofa though,’ he whispers into my neck. ‘Not for the first time.’

‘Okay,’ is all I can manage to reply against a delicious sensual onslaught.

Someone raps on the door again, trying the handle. ‘Aidan?’ the voice outside demands. ‘Showtime! We need you now.’

‘I’ll be there in a second!’ he barks impatiently towards the door.

I can already feel my climax building in smaller peaks that wash over me, Aidan’s fingers working me in slick, swift, sweet circular motions, until I’m trembling for a release. Lately, I’ve done this enough times by myself, picturing him doing exactly what he’s doing to me now, yet the reality exceeds all of my expectations, and I’ve been robbed of the ability to form even the most basic of responses.

Aidan doesn’t flinch, keeping his eyes on mine as he pleasures me.

The voice outside grows aggravated. ‘Aidan? We need to go. Right now!’

‘I’m coming!’ he growls at the door, just as my mouth falls open, my head going back, and I breathe hard in and out to stop a moan from escaping my lips as my orgasm swells against his fingers, my back arching for a second time at the sensations exploding between my legs. He doesn’t stop, wringing every drop of pleasure from me until I’m spent.

My body goes limp. Heat warms my cheeks. Opening my eyes again, I find Aidan’s looking down at me with a wicked smile on his face.

‘Well, that’s the first time I’ll be taking to the stage with one of those,’ he whispers, looking down the length of his body to the obvious ridge in his black parachute-style trousers.

I actually giggle. ‘No, that’s definitely not professional.’

He kisses me tenderly again. ‘I wish I could see you after the show.’

‘Aidan, what gives? Seriously, we gotta go!’ the voice shouts outside, now irritable.

He rolls his eyes. ‘I need one more second!’ he claps back. We take our cue to move from the sofa and, once upright, I adjust my trousers, my body still fizzing, my legs weak. He takes both my hands in his. ‘Maybe stay behind the door and wait a couple of minutes before you leave.’

I’m happy that he’s complying with my wishes to keep this between us.

He cradles my face in his palms. ‘I’ll see you in Dubai, okay?’

Our kiss is long and slow, threatening to consume us both again, until more hard knocks at the door bring me crashing back to reality. I cling to him for one more second. There are more voices outside now, asking where he is and what he’s doing. This is all part of sharing him.

‘Go,’ I whisper, and as I move behind the door, cold air replaces his warmth. ‘See you in Dubai.’