Don't You Remember (22 page)

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Authors: Lana Davison

BOOK: Don't You Remember
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“Whatever…” I said trying to make out I didn’t care. “If you say so.”

“Classic denial again. I do say so.”

“Boring.”

“Look at you all on the defensive.”

“No, I’m just being mature about it. I’m not a teenage girl.”

“But it’s OK to have a crush on someone, even when you’re over the hill.”

“I’m hardly over the hill, but I’m closer to twenty-six now than twenty-five. Boo hoo…”

“I do miss our little get togethers. Let’s do lunch this week. Can you do Thursday?”

“I’ll make it so, Captain,” I joked, pretending to be a character on Star Trek.

“Copy that,” he laughed.

“Later.”

“Ciao, Bella.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

 

I arrived at work and collected a selection of magazines and newspapers at reception and walked to my cubicle. I put my coffee and reading material down and turned on my computer while I took my bag off my arm and placed it in one of my desk draws for security.

I started at the top of my pile of paper tabloids and read the front-page headlines in the papers and in celebrity magazines. They were covered with pictures of Johnny and The Fuel Injectors and Johnny and Eliza. The headlines read: ‘Will They or Wont They?’; ‘Another great night for Johnny Cromwell and The Fuel Injectors’; ‘Eliza Does Not Deny Being Engaged But Wears No Ring’. And so on and so forth. There were tons of innuendos about Johnny and Eliza’s possible engagement. I got fed up with it all and threw the lot in the bin.

I began to sift through some files on a case I had been working on. A real life case about organized dog fighting and if there was one thing I hated more than anything, it was animal cruelty. I was going to get to the bottom of this and report on it. First, I needed to speak to my contacts at the police; two undercover cops who I had used me to help leak a story between an informant and a drug dealer. The informant was working for both sides, telling the police what they wanted to hear but steering the drug dealer away from the police by telling him about the planned bust. The police asked me to write the article as a message to the informant and the drug dealer. It was their public way of saying no one is going to do business with you now given that the police were watching.

The phone rang and I picked it up. “Hello.”

“Hello, you,” Sean replied.

“Hello yourself,” I said smiling.

“I missed you last night. I would have much rather been with you than at that meeting. It went on a bit but I had to stay until the bitter end,” he said, sounding annoyed.

“The things we do,” I joked.

“Yes, the things we do for our careers.”

“Do you want to go out after work?” I asked.

“Yeah I do. Let’s meet at 7. Do you think you’ll be finished by then?”

“I should be. I’m going to get cracking with my report. I’m writing about organized dog fighting in New York.”

“I hope you get the bastards.”

“Don’t worry, I will. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s animal cruelty.”

“OK. I’ve got a meeting to go to. Another one, on the same building we discussed last night at the work dinner. It’s never-ending. Mind you it’s a monumental project. Time consuming is an understatement.”

“Off you go then. Speak to you later.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Nor me.” With that I hung up the phone.

 

*****

Johnny and Eliza flew back to New York the very next day on the band’s private jet. With seven International tours over the past ten years, the band now had their own jet with leather cream seats that reclined into beds; a fully stacked bar; small functional kitchen; two shower rooms with two toilets; and could seat up to sixteen people plus two staff.

Johnny let Eliza and her long legs exit the plane before him or the other members of the band – it was his way of being a gentleman. They got into a security vehicle and arrived at Johnny’s apartment around lunchtime. Johnny turned on the TV and saw himself repeating his thank you speech from the night before, along with clips of Eliza. This was on the news!  Hardly newsworthy, he thought to himself wanting to see what the real news was. He gave up and switched off the television, looking at Eliza standing at the kitchen with her ear to the phone simultaneously making some coffee on Johnny’s industry professional coffee machine.

“Well it’s ridiculous; we’re just two normal people. I don’t know what the fuss is. But I promise I’ll take a look.” She paused. “Love you Mum, bye,” she said, hanging up the phone.

“What was that all about?” Johnny asked, turning to face Eliza.

“Oh, Mum said we’re all over the tabloids. On the news and basically everywhere,” she replied as she busied herself frothing the milk. “Do you want a cappuccino?”

“I’d love one.”

“I don’t know what all the fuss is.”

“Neither do I.”

“Mum said the headlines read ‘Will They or Won’t They?’ It’s all in relation to marriage.”

“Can’t they just leave us alone?”

“I know. But it does get me thinking.” Eliza said, giving another little marriage hint. “You know I’d say, yes,” she finished.

“Yeah, well, maybe you will have to wait for a surprise,” he said, getting up and walking to his bedroom to find a sweater.

Eliza followed and stood at the doorway with her cappuccino in her hand  “You know I don’t mean to put you under pressure, but I do love you and if this relationship is going somewhere, and I think it is, then the natural progression is marriage. That’s all, enough said. I’m not saying any more.”

“Good,” he winked. “You will just have to wait and see. I’m not saying any more either.”

Eliza turned back to the kitchen and finished making Johnny’s drink. “Your coffee’s here, come and get it.”

Johnny walked back to the kitchen to collect his drink and kissed Eliza on the lips. “Thank you for this,” he said, holding up the coffee mug. “It won’t be long,” he said, referring to a proposal.

Johnny picked up his guitar and thought of Jen, as if he felt guilty now that he planned to marry Eliza. He felt stupid for thinking such thoughts but nonetheless decided to put his feelings down on paper. This was a good time to write a song – when he felt raw.

The phone rang. “Johnny, it’s for you.”

“I’ll pick it up in here,” he shouted as he stretched over to get the phone on his bedside table. “Hello,” he said hearing Eliza put the phone down in the kitchen.

“Johnny, it’s Pamela, Michael’s wife.”

Johnny paused for a moment.

“Michael, from Hunter Management,” she continued.

“Hi, Pamela,” Johnny said, trying to remember when he last spoke to her. Michael had a tendency to keep work at work and his home life at home, rarely mixing the two.

“I know this phone call might come as a bit unexpected, but I’m calling because I’m arranging a surprise party for Michael.”

“OK,” he acknowledged.

“And, well it’s not going to be at the house, in fact I’ve hired out a club called Amber in midtown.”

“Yes,” Johnny said wondering where this was going. Was this an invitation?

“Johnny it has a good size stage and well, I was wondering, you know seeing you’re Michael’s favorite band and not to mention his best client, I was wondering…” She paused as if she was nervous to ask. “Well, do you think you could perform one song? Only one, no more than one. I know you don’t normally get asked this, but well…”

He cut her off mid sentence given her nerves were talking now, “I’d love to.”

“Oh. Oh my. Well, I didn’t think it would be that simple.”

“No, Pamela, it’s that simple. Feel free to ask me anytime. Michael’s been good to me. I’m happy to help out.”

“Thank you, Johnny. Thank you very much, you are so very kind.”

“Not at all.”

“All I need to tell you for now is to mark off 9 March. That will give you plenty of time to get used to the idea.”

“Um, Pamela, I play for a living. I am pretty used to it by now.”

“Of course you are. What was I thinking? Anyway, that’s all I was calling for. Thank you again Johnny. I really do appreciate your kindness.”

“Any time.”

“Bye, Johnny.”

“Bye, Pamela.”

*****

I walked out of the building five minutes before seven. My day had been productive; I’m right on target and will make the finishing touches to my report tomorrow morning. Even though I wore my thin jacket, the night still felt cool with a bit of a cold breeze in the air making me hunch my shoulders. I looked around for Sean but he surprised me by walking up behind me. “Boo!” he said, playfully.

I kissed his lips, happy to see him. “I knew you were there,” I lied.

“You did, did you?” He took my hand and led me down the stairs in front of the building. “I’m taking you to dinner. I’ve made
a reservation at
Ruby’s.”

“Yum.”

“I want to ask you something too, it’s important.”

My mind went wild with what it might be; it could only mean one thing. He was going to ask me to marry him, I was sure of it. I suppose he could ask me to move in with him, but why would he when he spends most of his time at my place? I was nervous because I didn’t know how I should answer his marriage proposal. I began to think about Johnny, reminding myself that if I accepted Sean’s offer of marriage then there would be no hope for us. What was I thinking? There had never been any hope for us anyway, especially when he decided to leave me when I needed him the most. I’ve lived the last ten years without him. I had a shiver thinking about how undeserving he was and that this man, the one holding my hand, had proved many times over that I was special. Sean had put a sparkle back in my eyes, the one stolen from me by none other than Johnny Cromwell.

Still walking fast, I kept up with Sean, simply because he was pulling me along holding by the hand. “It’s hard to walk fast in these in heels,” I complained.

“I’m racing because I have made reservations and they told me if I’m not there before 7.30pm then I would be subject to losing the table.”

Oh dear, that sounded serious. Why was he being so serious about losing our reservation? Sure Ruby’s is a nice enough restaurant, great food, great ambience and all that. But did it matter? I suppose it did matter if he had planned some special way of proposing to me. Did he have a ring placed in a champagne glass? Or would it be brought out with the dessert? I had made up my mind. What was I procrastinating for? I would say yes. That’s it. I would marry Sean.

“Sean,” I said, stopping firmly on the pavement my feet aching.

“Come on, we’ve got to keep going. We’re not far now,” he said, pulling my hand again.

“Sean!” I stayed where I was. He stopped and I kissed him on the lips.

Sean beamed, “What was that for?”

“Because you’re wonderful and I want you to know that.”

“You are too. Come on,” he ordered, pulling me gently in his direction.

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