Love Me Till Wednesday (Sapphire Stars #1)

8

8

Lisa hobbled out of the lift on her own, Pete having excused himself about half an hour ago, just after the award photos had finished.

She winced as she started walking down the hotel corridor towards their suite. Just a few more steps then she’d be able to take off these bloody boots. Why had she thought four-inch heels were a good idea? They’d felt comfortable in the shop, but after the tripping disaster, all she wanted to do was take them off. She was still cringing about it now. How long would it take to get over the humiliation? Years probably.

She reached the door to the room she was sharing with Pete and found the key in her clutch bag. As she turned it in the door lock, she thought she heard moaning. It must be coming from the room next door. You’d think the soundproofing in a five-star hotel would be better.

Walking in, she noticed Pete’s shirt casually discarded over the back of the sofa. Odd. He was normally annoyingly tidy. But it wasn’t the only thing that wasn’t where it should be. Her eyes automatically followed the trail of clothes leading across the sitting area to the open bedroom door, which perfectly framed a view of a naked Pete scrabbling to get under the covers on the king-size bed. Judging by the lumps in the bedding, someone was lying beside him. Lisa took a sharp intake of breath.

‘Hi, darling,’ Pete said in a cheery tone, which didn’t match the rabbit in the headlights look in his eyes. ‘I wasn’t expecting you back yet.’

No shit, Sherlock! ‘Let me guess. You wanted a nap after downing all that booze earlier, and you needed someone to give you a massage to get you off, so to speak?’ Lisa said, doing her best to hold back her fury.

The lumps in the bedspread next to Pete moved slightly.

How dare Pete ruin what should have been a fabulous day. Lisa put her hands on her hips. ‘Who is she?’

Pete looked like he had no idea what to say.

It was probably the pretty blonde photographer he’d been flirting with before the awards ceremony. Not that Pete flirting with women was unusual. She’d challenged him about it early in their relationship. ‘It doesn’t mean anything - I just like having a laugh. There’s no other woman for me but you,’ he’d insisted. And she’d believed him. Pete was always caring and attentive whenever the two of them were together. But he couldn’t resist a good flirt - it didn’t matter what the women looked like or how old they were. He wanted all of them to love him.

The targets of his affections usually treated it as a bit of fun, at least when Lisa was in the vicinity. But while the band were posing for photos this evening, Lisa could tell from the photographer’s body language that this one wanted to get to know Pete a whole lot better.

Forgetting the pain in her toes, Lisa strode purposefully to her side of the bed.

‘Come out, you bitch.’ She dragged the covers down before Pete could stop her. ‘Fuck me!’

‘I’d rather not. I prefer blokes, personally. ’

The head and body that she’d revealed belonged to the journalist who’d interviewed them earlier for a music magazine. A male journalist. Andy someone - Lisa hadn't bothered to remember his full name. She’d complained to Pete afterwards that Andy had behaved like a sexist pig, ignoring her while hanging on Pete’s every word. Pete was usually supportive when music journos were dismissive of her, but today he’d been uncharacteristically noncommittal. Now, it all made sense.

Lisa was speechless. She’d never felt this combination of rage, stupidity and confusion before. It was all too much to take in. She turned and ran out of the suite as fast as her painful feet would carry her.

What are you going to do now? Lisa needed somewhere quiet to think it all through. She took the stairs - less chance of bumping into someone else that way. There was a balcony on the second floor. Fresh air would help. Well, as fresh as you could get in London on a warm summer evening.

She emerged from the stairwell into the plush carpeted second-floor landing. The balcony sign pointed to a glass door on the left. She peered through. It was empty. Perfect.

She walked to the edge and gripped the shiny stainless steel rail tightly as if it were the only thing stopping her from toppling off. She stared out at the lights across the river. The sound of a crowd of people talking and laughing came from the ballroom behind her, but she tried to filter it out. She needed to concentrate on answering the many questions going around in her head.

How had she missed that Pete was gay? She went back over their relationship, looking for clues. He’d pursued her, confessing that he’d looked for excuses for the two of them to be in the studio or rehearsal room alone until he’d eventually made a move. And he’d been an enthusiastic lover until recently, anyway. She’d put that down to being tired from the long tour they’d just completed. But perhaps he wasn’t getting what he wanted. There’d been no hint of him being attracted to men, though. Or maybe he’d been very good at hiding it or didn’t want to admit it to himself.

Not that any of that mattered now. He’d cheated on her. How could she carry on working with him? After the excitement of being presented with that iconic award less than an hour ago, Lisa’s world felt like it was crumbling around her. And her boots weren’t helping either. At least that problem was easily solved. She unzipped them and hurled them over the balcony into the garden. There was a shout from below.

She looked down. Shit! They’d been more aerodynamic than she’d anticipated. They’d travelled over the garden and onto the pavement, narrowly missing a passerby. She watched as the man’s terrier picked one up and ran off. The dog was welcome to it. She started sobbing.

‘You look like you could do with one of these.’ The voice startled her. A young waiter had appeared beside her, holding a silver tray containing a solitary glass. ‘Champagne,’ he said.

Her feet were still throbbing despite being free of their patent leather prison. A drink might help take the edge off the physical pain and possibly the emotional pain, too, but there was one slight problem.

‘I haven’t got any money on me,’ she said.

‘It’s on the house.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘Congratulations on your award.’

Damn. He’d recognised her. She could see the headlines now. Sapphire Stars’ lead singer can’t deal with fame.

She looked at him pleadingly. ‘Please don’t say you’ve seen me like this. ’

He looked sympathetic. ‘I won’t. I promise. Can I get you anything else? Shoes, for instance?’

She looked self-consciously at her not-so-popstar pink and red spotty socks sticking out under her black silk and lace skirt. ‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Honestly.’

He smiled. ‘Find me if you need anything.’

‘Thank you,’ she called after him as he headed back into the ballroom.

The guests were spilling out onto the balcony while the waiting staff cleared away the tables. Senior execs for some big corporate judging by their well-cut tuxedos and expensive evening gowns. They were going to wonder what a 21-year-old shoeless woman in a leather bodice was doing, gatecrashing their formal dinner dance. Time to leave. Lisa was still holding the champagne the waiter had given her. She tipped the glass back, the bubbles tickling her throat as she gulped it down.

Right. She’d made up her mind. She wasn’t going to let Pete’s infidelity ruin what should be the best evening of her life so far. She was going to adopt a ‘fake it till you make it’ approach and go back downstairs to the Awards after-party to bask in the glory of being a winner. But first, she needed to sort out her footwear.

She hoiked up her top and walked onto the landing with her head held high. She took the lift back to the fifth floor and barged into the suite unannounced. It was in darkness. No sign of Pete or Andy. The trail of clothes had been tidied away, and the bed was made. There was a piece of hotel notepaper on her pillow.

I’m so sorry. We need to talk. I'll be back by midnight. P xxx

She sighed. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

Lisa left the note where she’d found it.

She had a shower, redid her makeup, got dressed into a fresh shirt and jeans, and then found her trusty old baseball boots. She could dance the rest of the night away in those.

She took the lift back downstairs. As she watched the numbers slowly count down, it suddenly stopped at 2. The doors opened to reveal Dougie.

‘Lisa!’ He sounded thrilled to see her, his broad smile revealing his sinister-looking gold tooth.

Why did he have to be catching the lift now? She could smell the alcohol and stale cigarette smoke on Dougie’s breath as he lurched towards her, planting a soggy, wet kiss on her cheek.

‘Congratulations, bab!’ he slurred.

Lisa recoiled in disgust and hit the door open button, but Dougie knocked her hand away and closed the doors. He slipped his arm around Lisa’s waist and pulled her to him, unsubtly staring down her cleavage. ‘Why don’t we discuss your solo career in my room?’

Without waiting for an answer, he forcibly kissed her hard on the lips, his tongue trying to probe her firmly shut mouth.

Could this evening get any worse? A proposition from a sleazy scumbag of a man with a hairdo and moustache that went out of fashion at least a decade ago hadn’t been on her wish list. Dougie would sell his own grandmother to make a fast buck. Lisa would rather become a nun than allow his stubby, gold-ring-clad fingers to explore her body.

None of which she could say out loud as Lisa was 99% sure he’d stolen a significant chunk of the band’s royalties. She needed to keep him onside for the time being, which meant even a swift knee to the groin was out of the question. She could’ve done with her stilettos to “accidentally” tread on his toes. Damn those bloody boots again .

‘I’ve promised an interview to the NME,’ she said, hopeful that the prospect of more free publicity would make him give up on his plans for her tonight. Instead, he pulled her closer just as the lift doors opened again, revealing a familiar figure standing outside. The waiter.

Dougie turned to see who was interrupting his seduction routine, inadvertently loosening his grip on Lisa as he did so.

She took the chance to free herself and dashed out of the lift. ‘Please could you show me how to get to the Awards after party?’ she asked the waiter.

She knew exactly how to get there, but it was the best excuse she could come up with on the fly.

‘Of course, madam.’ The waiter indicated the staircase. ‘Shall I lead the way?’

She nodded and followed him, glancing back to see a fuming Dougie glowering at them.

As they arrived outside the party room, Lisa turned to her knight in shining armour. Nick, according to his name badge. She looked at him properly for the first time. Her friend, Mel, would say he was exactly Lisa’s type: tall, slim, blonde-haired, probably from a bottle, but that didn’t matter. What really grabbed her attention were his piercing blue eyes.

He looked concerned. ‘Are you okay, now?’

She nodded. ‘Thank you. Again.’

He smiled. It was an appealing smile accompanied by a twinkle in his eyes. He looked like he’d be fun to spend time with. If she were single, she’d have flirted with him. What do you mean if you were single? You’re planning to be single very soon, thanks to Pete’s bedroom activities .

Lisa heard herself saying, ‘I owe you a drink. What time do you finish?’

In her head, her mother’s voice admonished her, “Nice girls wait to be asked”. But there was going to be no more nice Lisa. She wasn't going to stand quietly by like a shy schoolgirl waiting to be picked for the hockey team. She was new, confident award-winning Lisa now, and new, confident, award-winning Lisa didn’t wait to be asked.

‘There’s a bar on the street opposite,’ Nick said. ‘Not many mainstream music fans know about it - it’s mainly filled with jazz aficionados. It’s called Jack’s. Shall we meet there? I’ll be there at ten.’

‘Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.’

‘I’ll look forward to it.’ He grinned and headed back up the stairs.

She watched him walk away, admiring the rear view as much as the front. Perhaps this evening wasn’t going to end badly after all.