Play With You (Loneliness) (14 page)

"I'll call you before you go to bed then. I want your beautiful voice to be the last thing I hear as I turn my light out," he says.

I smile, feeling the same way. I let him know this.

"You know, Johanna, despite our age difference, I feel as though we are meant to be life-partners. I cannot wait until tomorrow, when we are joined in holy matrimony," says Marcus.

"I can't wait either. Let's go to sleep now so that tomorrow will come more quickly," I suggest with a giggle.

"Okay, then. Goodnight, Miss Williams. Until tomorrow, when you become Mrs. Hadley," promises Marcus in a low voice.

As I hang up, I thrill to the sound of that. Mrs. Marcus Hadley. Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Hadley. Mrs. Johanna Hadley. I begin giggling, realizing that I'm doing the same thing that schoolgirls everywhere do. Sliding under the covers, I am suddenly caught unawares by a huge yawn. Stretching out slowly, I luxuriate under the warmth of my blankets and close my eyes.

I hear my cell phone ringing. Reaching over, I grab it and - disaster! It falls to the floor!

"Oh, no!" I grab it up and punch the "talk" button.

"Hullo?"

"...Anna? It's your mum...ter get up...eady for church."

"Mum, mum, I've dropped my phone!" I say.

"You what? Chopped your...dropped your phone?"

"Yes! I'm up. I'm getting ready."

"...love you. See you at ...even at the church," says mum.

"Okay. Oh, bother. Now my phone's dead!" Getting out of bed, I send Marcus a fast email, letting him know what's just happened to my phone.

He emails me back right away, letting me know he has a spare phone I can borrow until I can get to the mobile store. He promises to bring it to the church before our wedding. Whew!

I step into the shower and wash myself quickly. Shampooing, I remember to deep-condition my hair as my sister told me to do. She rings my doorbell at nine a.m. and helps me to dry my thick hair. Once that's done, she combs it and styles it into a loose French braid.

I slip into my concert-wedding dress and her jaw drops.

"No, do not try to tell me that's a maternity dress! It's too...too lovely!" she cries.

"It's a maternity dress. I found it in a shop in the U.S. It's perfect for today," I tell her.

She makes me turn around, modeling it for her. Stopping me from time to time, she makes small adjustments to it until she nods in satisfaction.

"Oh, Johanna, it's perfect! You don't even look like you're five months pregnant. You're still so tiny. You're going to carry that little one high up."

"I know. I'm already getting the heartburn," I tell her.

"Make anti-acid tablets your best friend. Keep a roll in your purse at all times. Believe me, they help! Makeup. Now. Sit," my sister orders, pressing me down by my shoulders.

I sit calmly, knowing that my older sister will make me look beautiful. My faith in her is perfectly justified. When I open my eyes, I gaze into the mirror, seeing a large-eyed woman with a delicate, healthy glow in her cheeks.

"Lipstick. I'm going with this deep rose shade," she tells me. "Turn and face me."

She outlines my lips then fills in the center. I look again and don't recognize myself! I look...sexy!

I tell her this then suggest, "Maybe you should do my makeup for our CD photo shoot."

She snorts in laughter. "Yeah, right! Won't you have professional makeup artists?"

"I don't know. Even if we do, I want you to do my face. I trust you - look at what you just accomplished! Please?" I tilt my head and widen my eyes in the expression I know she can't resist. It works!

"Okay, okay, I will."

I don't tell her this, but she'll be getting credit on the CD liner notes.

A
t the church, we all gather. I'm in one room with my family and Marcus is in another room with his. Finally, it's time for us to present ourselves to the vicar. Dad walks me down the aisle proudly with a beaming smile on his face.

I look at Marcus and I'm breathless. He is absolutely sexy in that grey-on-grey suit! With his blonde hair, he looks so dashing. Looking to the pews, I see my mum wiping tears from her face as she smiles tremulously at me. She and my sister both wore leaf-green dresses. In keeping with the color theme, dad's tie is a light green-yellow.

After the ceremony is over and I become Mrs. Marcus Hadley, we give each other soft, lingering kisses.

"Okay, all! We have a dinner for everyone at our house. If you'll follow us, we can celebrate Johanna's and Marcus' wedding day!" trumpets my father soon after.

We drive to mum and dad's house in a short caravan. I help my mum and sister bring the food to the door of the family room. Dad sets up a long table just inside the door, allowing us to be able to fill our plates without insect life invading the party.

I hear the crinkling of gift bags and look at the source. My sister is arranging all the wedding gifts so that nobody trips over them. Marcus looks at me with a gentle smile. I smile right back.

Sitting outside, we feast on roast beef Wellington, mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables. I'm spearing a bite of salad when my mum asks me what happened to my mobile.

"I was waking up when you called me. I reached over for it and knocked it to the floor. It hit in just the worst spot and the window cracked. It's inoperable now, so Marcus loaned me a spare of his until we can get to the shops next week," I tell her. I give her the number, letting her know that I will be giving her the new number - I doubt I'll be able to port my old number to any new phone I get.

After the feast is over, the festivities continue. I'm beginning to get tired, so Marcus sits me in a chair as we talk. My energy continues to flag, so he, my dad and Tim load the wedding gifts in the boot of his car, then he comes in for me.

"Take a nap, darling! You look exhausted," says my mum.

Thankfully, I thought to pack everything I would need for the next few days. Marcus drives to my flat and retrieves that bag then we go home.

I take a nap after Marcus brings everything in. Wow, nice start to my new married life - a nap!

The following Monday, we're in the shop, buying our groceries when we see Lisa. Looking at me and communicating a silent message, Marcus puts his hand on the handle of the grocery cart, prominently displaying his wedding ring. Lisa can't help but see that. Her eyes drop to his ring finger then steal to my left hand. She flushes a dull red then turns and leaves.

"Whew. Thanks. Otherwise, I would have given her a piece of my mind," I whisper to Marcus.

"You and me both. I'm glad she seems to respect that we're husband and wife now. If she gives you even one second's worth of trouble, let me know. I'll get the bloody police involved immediately."

I notice that when Marcus is upset, his British accent becomes even stronger. I nod, just grateful that the obsessive young woman has gone. We continue shopping until we have crossed everything off our list.

"What time is your practice?" he asks me.

"Not until one this afternoon. D'you think we have time to pick up a few things from my flat?"

"Not really. It's already getting on for eleven. By the time we unload everything and make lunch, you'll barely have time to get to the studio. Give me your key and I'll start bringing the smaller furniture over," he suggests. "I'm waiting to get my next assignments anyway, so I can get some of your things moved in and use my time productively."

"I like that idea. Okay."

At home, I give him my house key and we unload groceries. We have soup and sandwiches, enough to give me energy and keep my stomach happy - I have noticed I still have a strong tendency to developing nausea if I allow myself to get too hungry.

At the studio, we practice the song we plan to record tomorrow. As we all wear headphones, we discuss parts where we need to refine our rhythm and tuning then work on these parts. We make detailed notes so that when we record, we'll know what we need to do. We stop when we hear a sharp knocking at the locked studio door.

Tim answers. "Gemma, what the hell are you doing here?"

I hear her muffled voice. "...find a job with a band...back and...with you?"

"No. Under no circumstances will you ever get your old spot back. You wrote your own ticket out of the band when you exposed yourself at that last concert. What you did was wrong. Our band is not composed of stunts or has-been, washed up singers who think they need to expose their bodies for sales and ratings. Goodbye, Gemma. Leave. If you come back, I will call the police. Got that?"

"Oh, God, no...want to play and sing! Promise...won't do that...Tim! Please!"

Tim slams and locks the door. Marcus is standing next to him and, from where I'm standing, I see him raise his eyebrows in question.

"Call them," Tim says.

Marcus calls the police. They show up at the studio ten minutes later and Tim explains the situation.

"We'll patrol around. I think I remember who you're talking about. Tall? Short hair? Slim and athletic?" asks the officer.

Tim nods.

"Okay, if we spot her, we'll make her leave. If she doesn't, you can swear out a criminal complaint and we'll arrest her."

After that intrusion, we need to take a break so we can focus on the song. We calm down.

Marcus sums it up best for all of us: "You do know that our band is light-years beyond what she represents, don't you? Put her behind you. She's ancient history. She wrote her own ticket by exposing her tits to audiences and you're about to start recording our second CD. She's washed up! You're not, so don't let the likes of her bring you down."

I smile. "He's right, guys. Gemma's history and we're working on the present and future."

The next morning, we're all at the High Street recording studio, ready and raring to go. I'm feeling nervous, but ready to record. I have snacks and plenty of water in my messenger bag. Marcus had to drop me off so he could do research and make phone calls for the series of articles his client has assigned to him. We set up our instruments and tune them according to the notes we took down the day before. The sound engineer looks through our sheet music and has us complete sound checks and a practice run-through.

"You sound good, so I'm going to have you record the practice CD. We'll listen to that then decide what needs to be worked on," he says.

We record the practice CD in one run-through. Donning headphones, we all listen closely to the sound of the music, making notes on our sheet music.

"Okay, are we all agreed about the changes we need to make? Johanna, sing out a bit more on the refrain after the bridge. You came in too softly and it was hard to hear you over the instruments. Linny, you keep the rhythm of the song, so keep it syncopated so that the rest of the band can come in when they're supposed to."

We work on each part until it is perfect. It's nearly three p.m. when we're ready to start recording for real. I gulp down water to wet my vocal cords and put my headphones back on.

It takes us four more tries, but we finally get the CD down perfect. As we listen to the different tracks, the engineers isolate the best parts, ready to make them all a seamless whole. We listen, growing more and more excited. It sounds so good! This second CD, called Lover's Quarrel, is going to be a huge hit.

Finally, it's just after five when we leave. Marcus has just pulled up outside the studio when we pile out with our sheet music, bags and instruments. I climb into his car and we go home. I am bone-deep exhausted. Marcus has ordered in some Mediterranean food and we eat. I'm cuddling on the couch with my husband when I doze off...