Authors: Mandy Baggot
She had smoothed down her usually spiky hair and had added some plain silver hoop earrings. She gazed at her reflection and then automatically her hand rose to the chain around her neck and she began to toy with the ring on it.
There was a knock on the door.
‘Who is it?’ George called.
‘It’s only me. You decent?’ Adam’s voice called.
‘Yes, come in,’ George invited.
Adam opened the door and let out a loud whistle of approval, when he saw what she was wearing.
‘Wow! You look amazing!’ he told her.
‘Thank you,’ George answered, smiling back at him.
‘Marisa says you’re going to some function to do with the wedding.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, they picked a fantastic outfit for you.’
‘How did things go at the castle, with the music?’ she asked him.
‘Really good. I’m playing violin for the entrance of the bride. It’s a fantastic piece Quinn wrote. It’s soft and it’s sensual and then it’s vibrant
and alive. He’s an amazing song
writer,’ Adam told her, sitting down on her bed.
‘God! You’re playing music for the entrance of the bride at the wedding to end all weddings! That’s a big honour Adam,’ George spoke.
‘I know. I asked Quinn why he wanted me to do it and he said he’d never heard anyone play the violin with quite as much passion.’
‘That’s a massive compliment.’
‘I know and he thinks I have a big career ahead of me,’ Adam added.
‘You do,’ George agreed, looking at him.
‘Yeah. It doesn’t seem to impress Marisa though,’ he said with a sigh.
‘Oh?’ George said, sitting next to him on the bed.
‘I tried to let her know I was interested you know, by the things I said, by putting my arm around her, by opening doors for her and carrying her bags and stuff but - she just didn’t seem to notice.’
‘Listen Ad, sometimes, especially when you’ve known someone a long time, you have to be a bit more obvious about your change of feelings. I mean you two have always been friends, friends open doors and carry bags, I think you need to be more direct,’ George said.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘I mean maybe you should ask her out on a date. Take her to that celebrity restaurant she wants to go to or something. Make it clear it’s a date not just two friends having dinner together,’ George told him.
‘What if she says no?’
‘Come on, this is Marisa! Being invited out to
the
celebrity hangout in the area! There is no way on Earth she is going to say no,’ George said with a smile.
‘But I don’t want her to say yes because she wants to go there. I want her to say yes because she wants to go there with me,’ Adam explained, looking at her with his big, soulful, brown eyes.
‘Who wouldn’t want to go anywhere with you?’ George said, taking hold of his hand.
‘You’re biased, because I’m your little brother,’ Adam said with a laugh.
He took his hand from hers and stood up.
‘So how are you getting to this function then? Car picking you up?’ Adam enquired.
‘No, I’m driving,’ George informed.
‘In that dress and those shoes?’
‘I was going to put sandals on and change when I got there.’
‘Don’t be daft, I’ll drive you. Where is it?’ Adam asked.
‘There’s no need to do that,’ George said, picking up her bag and going to the door.
‘But if I drive, you can have a couple of beers or champagne. Free drinks all night I bet,’ Adam said, following her out.
‘Honestly, I’ll be fine. I don’t really feel like drinking,’ George said, hurrying down the stairs in a bid to get away from all the questioning.
‘Hang on, what did you say? You don’t feel like drinking? Are you alright?’ Adam questioned.
‘Look, keep your voice down or Marisa is going to be in here asking questions and to be honest she scares me when she starts asking questions,’ George hissed.
‘So what’s the deal? Why the secrecy?’ Adam wanted to know.
‘I, well, er
...
’ George began, racking her brain for something sensible to say.
‘You’ve got a date haven’t you? The dress, the shoes, there’s no function
,
you’re going on a date!’ Adam exclaimed.
‘Will you keep your voice down! Yes, OK, I’m going on a date, but don’t you tell anyone,’ George ordered him seriously.
‘Well who with? How long’s it been going on?’
‘Not long. It’s nothing serious,’ George said as she looked around the dining room for her jacket.
‘Well who is it? Someone you met here in Spain? That’s freaking quick work.’
She didn’t respond to the question, her heart was hammering on her ribcage. She picked up the keys to the Jeep and headed toward
s
the door.
‘Hold it! Where are you going? Aren’t you going to let us see what was in that box? Holy shit! Look at you!’ Marisa exclaimed in awe as she came out of the living room and stood gawping at George, chewing gum sticking to her bottom lip.
‘I’ll take it I look sick,’ George responded, opening the door.
‘She’s going on a date,’ Adam blurted out.
‘What?! I thought you said it was a function. A date with who? Have you got a secret man here in Spain? Oh.
My.
God it’s someone from the band isn’t it? I know, I know, it
’
s Eddie the drummer. Oh God I should have guessed. He kept making a detour for your canapé tray at the after-show parties. How long has it been going on?’ Marisa wanted to know.
‘Not long. Look I’d better go or I’m going to be late,’ George said, checking her watch again.
‘Bit dressed up for Eddie the drummer; I’ve never seen him in anything that isn’t ripped. Maybe it’s someone from management. Is it Michael? He’s always all over you telling everyone how great you are,’ Marisa carried on.
‘Marisa, Michael’s gay,’ Adam informed her.
‘Is he?’ Marisa asked her eyes widening in surprise.
‘He’s
gayer
than Colin and Justin and John Barrowman all in the same room singing ABBA,’ Adam told her.
‘I’m going,’ George said, opening the door.
‘Honestly, let me drive you. I don’t mind and I promise I won’t loiter around to see who you’re meeting,’ Adam said.
‘Am I going to be able to say no and leave this villa alive?’ George asked.
‘No.’
‘OK, well, let’s go but you are not bringing me home again, I’ll get a taxi,’ George insisted.
‘Quiz her all the way there and come back with a name,’ Marisa ordered.
His hands were trembling as he did up his shirt buttons. He had to stop this shaking lark; he had a reputation to uphold. He couldn’t appear vulnerable to anyone around here. The truth was, he was both scared and excited about tonight. It was a big deal taking George to the opera, for lots of reasons. Tonight was going to be special for both of them and he didn’t want to f**k it up.
He splashed some cologne on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. He let out a sigh of discontent and picked up his watch.
Adam talked all the way into Murcia, about university, about Marisa, about Quinn, particularly about Quinn and how much he had enjoyed working on music with him. It was thirty minutes before they were pulling up just across the square from the theatre.
The temperature was still in the mid twenties and the city was alive with people, walking up the picturesque boulevards. The theatre itself was an impressive building. Its facade was pink and grey and the unusual colour made it stand out amongst the other structures. It was both grand and statuesque.
‘Where are you meeting him? Just so I know, not because I want to report back to Marisa,’ Adam asked.
‘I’m not completely stupid; there is no way I’m telling you that.’
‘Then I’ll have to sit here and see where you go,’ Adam said, folding his arms across his chest.
‘I’m not going anywhere until you drive off,’ George replied, copying his pose.
‘How childish.’
‘Isn’t it.’
‘Come on George, why all the cloak and dagger stuff about this guy? What’s wrong with him?’ Adam wanted to know.
‘There’s nothing wrong with him.’
‘Then tell us who he is.’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s nobody’s business but mine.’
‘Is he married or something?’ Adam enquired.
George visibly stiffened, although she tried to disguise it by putting a hand to her hair. Adam picked up on it straight away.
‘Jesus George! He’s married right?’ he exclaimed in horror.
‘He isn’t married, look; I’m getting out of the car. Drive home! What is this sudden obsession with my love life?’ George wanted to know.
‘We just care about you that’s all,’ Adam told her.
‘Well thanks, but I’m thirty four, it isn’t necessary,’ George said, getting out of the Jeep and brushing down her dress.
‘Alright, just trying to be the protective brother. I get the message; I’ll go but just take care OK?’ Adam said, starting up the engine.
‘OK,’ George replied with a smile.
‘And I’ll make sure Marisa doesn’t wait up,’ Adam told her.
‘Thanks,’ George said.
‘See you,’ Adam ended.
He started the engine and pulled back into the traffic.
She waited until he was out of sight before entering the square and walking towards the grand building.
There were other people going in, all of them looked amazing in different gowns, some long, some short. All the men were dressed in suits, some in dinner jackets, others wearing flowers in their lapels. She looked the part in her beautiful dress, but she felt like a fish out of water.
The theatre itself was beautiful. It wasn’t particularly old inside, but it had obviously been sympathetically restored. There were people milling around in the foyer, chatting quickly in Spanish, laughing and enjoying the occasion.
George took her ticket from her bag and looked at it. She had no idea where to go. All the signs were in Spanish and her only hope was a dark haired twenty-something in an official looking uniform. She took a deep breath and prayed he knew some English.
‘Excuse me, could you tell me which way?’ George asked, showing him her ticket and speaking probably too slowly.
‘
Si
, yes. Up the stairs, to the right,’ he instructed her with a smile.
‘Thank you - sorry I mean
gracias,’
George said, attempting the language.
She held up her dress and went up the stairs as gracefully as she could. If she was honest, the nice shoes were killing her feet and she was starting to wish she had worn her boots. Underneath the long frock she might have just about got away with it.
Everywhere she looked there was glamour. There were a group of Spanish women, dressed in garish, bright outfits, drinking, talking loudly and laughing. They looked at George, as she walked by them. It was a look of desire for her dress. She smiled to herself as she made her way along the corridor. There was no way they would covet anything about her if they had seen her in jeans and her ‘Rock Chick’ t-shirt, sweating from the heat, Quorn all over her hands.
She checked the ticket again and looked at the sign above a small door. This was it; this was the entrance to the box. George pushed on the handle and stepped through. The scene before her took her breath away. The theatre was as spectacular on the inside as it was on the outside. She could see everyone in the whole place. People were taking their seats, ushers were moving amongst them, guiding the lost, and she could see right into the orchestra pit. But, what was more breathtaking than any of that, was the painted ceiling. The beautiful, luminous artwork looked down on her like it had been finished only minutes before. It shone, it almost breathed and it was like nothing she had seen before.
‘Hey,’ Quinn greeted as he stepped into the box and closed the door behind him.
‘Oh, hi,’ George replied with a blush, turning to look at him.
He was dressed in an expensive fitted black suit, with a white shirt, slightly open at the neck. The outfit only enhanced his attractiveness.
‘You look amazing,’ Quinn said unable to keep his eyes from her.
‘You’re so good at choosing clothes for me, I have a suspicion you’re keeping a tape measure with you and whipping it out when I’m asleep,’ George replied.
‘As if I would waste my time with a tape measure, when there are so many more things I could be doing,’ Quinn answered smiling.
‘We’re at the theatre. This is not the place for smut,’ George told him.
‘I believe, all those centuries ago, this was exactly the place for it.’
‘You’re just remembering history to suit your wicked mind.’