This Could Have Been Our Song!: A coulda woulda shoulda ballad (16 page)

“
Oh, I’m so happy!” Axelle gets up and hugs me. “So are you shagging anyone?”

So, I guess we
’re back on me. I finish my drink. “Nope.”

“
Why the bloody hell not? Isn’t that Marcus bloke still in town?” she asks. And another drink.

“
She doesn’t know what she wants,” Noor interjects. Another drink there too. “Greg or Marcus.”

“
Greg was in town? Don’t you dare break that young man’s heart…again!” She raises her glass to me and wiggling her finger.

“
I never broke his heart!” I tell Axelle. “Greg is one of my closest friends. And I don’t have a lot of those.”

“
Hey…you have us,” Noor says.

“
My point exactly, Noor,” I say.

“
That poor kid was so in love with you back at the dancing academy and he’s still in love you.” Axelle gives me the most loving look. “Who could blame him? My baby is breathtaking.”

“
Aw, I love you too, Lelly.” I give her a kiss. “But I’m not going to sleep with Greg. Ever.”

“
Right.” Axelle winks at me.

“
Your loss. That man is ravishing,” Noor says.

I know he is, inside and out. Let
’s change the subject. “Lelly, do you have a dress for the launch party?” I innocently ask.

“
Yes I do. An original Renee G creation. She sent it to me earlier this week,” she proudly says. Of course anything for Mrs Anderson. “So… Are you bringing someone?”

Where did this come from? I look to Noor for cover, but she
’s too sloshed to be of any help.

“
Well are you?” Noor asks.

“
Can I bring Beesly?”

“
Are you going to be shagging her after? I thought she was married. And straight? And so are you. We were thinking about a man,” Lelly tells me, laughing.

“
No! Gosh, Lelly… Marcus then,” I say and I cannot take it back.

“
Are you going to be shagging him after?” Noor asks.

“
It’s good PR for us. There will be no shagging! Please stop asking or saying it. Understood.” I’m losing my buzz. Another drink it is.

“
Okay,” Noor chuckles.

“
Right,” Axelle giggles.

“
Somebody needs to take that stick out of her butt, or just –” Axelle says.

“
Enough!” I clumsily get up. My buzz hasn’t gone after all. “I’m going home…in a taxi…I think.”

“
I was just going to say –” Axelle continues.

“
It has been months after all since –” Noor says at the same time.

“
I got the picture, thanks. Bye.” I’m ready to leave.

“
Please stay. We’re sorry,” Noor begs. “We just want you to get some because we care.”

“
And you can’t leave yet. We haven’t played refugee African princesses yet,” Axelle begs.

I do like to play that bar game. Axelle is the best story teller
.“One more drink and then we go home,” I say sitting back down.

“
Okay,” Noor chuckles.

“
Right,” Axelle giggles.

Our fourth pitcher arrives and Axelle fills our drinks.

“I don’t have to deal with that kind of shit when I drink with Beesly,” I say, sulking.

“
She’s your soul sister. We’re blood and, Luce, it’s thinker than water and wine,” Noor literally burps out. She looks around. “We should get some wine!”

“
We’re not going anywhere anytime soon are we?” I say, smiling at my crazy sisters. Let the game begin. We’ll worry about getting home later – much, much later…

“Your old-fashion frittata’s ready and looks lovely if I may say so myself,” I tell Axelle while placing her plate in front of her. We made it home around midnight. Andrew, our usual savior, came to pick us up, blessed his heart. Also he knew that he would have to do it as he was the one who dropped us off yesterday. Lelly decided to stay with me and not go back to her family for the night. Turned out it was always her plan; Paul dropped her off yesterday and took the kids to his parents in London...Ontario. So it was a sleepover just like old times, Lelly and I sharing a bed, minus the drunkenness.

She takes a bite and closes her eyes.
“This is divine, Luce. You’re the best cook I’ve known since Dad.” She looks so refreshed compared to me. My head is still pounding. “I can’t cook a thing and you’ve been glued to the kitchen since you were old enough walk and hold a spoon. Such a daddy’s girl!”

“
No, you’re the daddy’s girl. How could a man who grew up in Central Africa know how to cook a frittata so well?” I look at Axelle. My beautiful oldest sister squeezes my hand and keeps eating. “Okay why aren’t you hangover?”

“
Because I’ve been getting sloshed since the eighties! This was just another night after a Charisma concert for me. Luce, the Riddells are originally from Scotland and Belgium; tequila can’t keep us down!” she proudly says.

“
Sure. It was nice of Andrew to come and pick us up,” I casually say. I know Axelle is not a big fan. She takes a sip of her orange juice, spiced up with some Alize I believe, but says nothing. “Maybe seeing Noor with all those men has triggered his passion back.”

“
He’s a straight, male performer spending his days with a bunch of gay ones. He should embrace female companionship. Any besides,” Lelly says. She gets up and puts the dishes in the sink. “He knew what he got himself into.”

“
To his defense, Noor shouldn’t avoid the talk; I’m not an expert in relationships –”

“
That’s the understatement of the year. You couldn’t see one if it hit you in the face.” She sits across from me. “At least it will give you time to figure out who you want to be, inside and outside a relationship. Unlike Nooradine.” She caresses my cheek. “About Andrew; it’s not about the talk. At least not the same talk. He received the pre-nuptial contract a couple of week ago.”

What! We do that?
“Since when are we doing that? Does Noor know?”

“
We have money, Luce; Granddaddy would never agree to pay for a wedding if he couldn’t secure the family’s heritage. It’s not personal. At least not for him.”

“
That’s not fair! So Andrew didn’t have the chance to lose his dad and inherit a quarter of a million pounds. That doesn’t make him a gold digger! Did Paul sign one?” I must be trembling with anger because Axelle comes to me for a big hug.

“
Lovey, even Papa signed one. It’s not about the insurance money. It’s about the Riddell’s,” she tells me in a comforting voice. She kisses my forehead, like when I used to have bad dreams. “Paul is different; he met mum and dad. That’s how long he has been in our lives. But, yes, he signed it without even looking at it. So did Papa.”

“
So why’s Andrew being such a baby about it?” I ask myself out loud. And why isn’t Noor talking to him about that? Paul doesn’t need a dime from Axelle. He owns or co-owns half of the clubs in the side of the Atlantic Ocean and has Axelle for his queen.

“
Honey, I did the best I could with you girls. But sometimes I feel like I need to bring you back home with me. Like you’re not ready to fly solo quite yet.” She starts to cry a little.

“
Lelly, you did amazing. Sorry I can be such a handful sometime,” I say, hugging her this time.

“
Please! You? The one who didn’t pursuit dance and cooks like a real chef without even trying? The one who bought her first flat with the money she had actually earned, not the one sitting at the bank? Lucia Cassidy Ann, you’re finding your own way and for that I’m so very proud,” she whispers in my ear.

“
Thank you,” I whisper back.

“
Noor; she needs to define her ground in this relationship and quick. Andrew is not a bad guy. I just don’t think he gets her as well as a future husband should,” she says, louder now.

“
They love each other so much and he knows how crazy she can be.”

“
But does he accept all or any of it really? Do you think he would let her buy their house? He sure can’t afford that on his own. I bought my house and decorated it. Paul was more than happy to pitch in but only when I asked; he knew it was something I needed to do on my own.”

“
We can’t all find a Paul, Lelly. How many men would accept getting kicked out of their own bed by a crying thirteen-year-old girl…over and over again?”

She leaves my side and gets her bag.
“Of course you can. This was just part of the package. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise; he has always let me be who I needed to be – the big sister, the surrogate mother, the financial planner, the party girl – as long as it makes me happy. And he always, always makes me feel safe and loved.”

I get up and grab my bag and keys. I
’ll clean up later. We’re supposed to crash the dance studio today for our special dance number at the wedding. We leave the apartment for my car and I’m so happy I didn’t have to pick it up anywhere today.

Axelle puts a CD on.
“So, what do you think? Summer 1999! She literally thought she was the girl in the song!” she says, laughing.

“
Livin’ La Vida Loca
? She’s going to kill us. Fantastic!”

“
Smashing, right? Ricky Martin it is then,” she tells me as I leave the parking lot.

This is not really happening… I’m not actually making out with Marcus right now. On the sofa, in John’s penthouse, in the middle of day. How did I get here? Until this moment I was in control, or was I ever? I have to rewind to that blasted Sunday on the studio with Axelle. That’s where it all began.

One of my pure pleasures in life is watching Axelle dance. She can do no wrong. We rehearsed for a few hours in Noël-Sarrow
’s dance studio. I haven’t listened Ricky Martin for this long and so many times since… Noor forced it upon us ten years ago.

“
I’m thinking go-go style for the outfits,” I told Lelly completely out of breath. I was begging for a cool down and a warm shower before Marcus got here.

“
Leather boots, leather bra, leather shorts. I’m in.” Axelle was gearing up for another try; I could see it in her eyes. We were already all sweaty; no body suits today, just our sport bras and loose sweat pants. “Okay, let’s take it from the top. You’re doing great but I need your legs to go much higher during the first chorus. You’re the pirouette queen. So get back out there.” She remotely started the music again.

We started dancing and I noticed Marcus in the corner of the studio by the benches, off the stage. How long had he been here? I usually sensed his presence every times he had been
spying
on me. I tried to stay concentrated on my routine for the next thirty seconds and executed my pirouette like a pro.

“
Much better, Luce!” Axelle said and patted my back. “Cool down,
ChicaLu
?”

“
Please,
MamaLu
!” I put myself in position for our cool-down routine: the same one we have been doing for two decades and to the same song –  “Ballerina Girl”. “Hit it!”

As we danced, Lelly and
I in pure synergy, something we hadn’t done in maybe five or six years, I looked at Marcus the entire time. His eyes were glued on us; he went from Axelle to me and vice-versa like he was seeing people dance for the first time. Quite touching, especially for someone that had a world-renowned dancer as a best friend. He came up on the stage after they were done.

“
Bloody hell! It was like there was only one of you up there,” he told me.

I gave Axelle a towel.
“Hi Marcus. You’re early. What are you doing here now?”

“
Like you don’t know, Lucia,” he said straight into my eyes. We stared at each other for a while. “You always know when I’m here watching you.” He gave me that all-too-intimate smile.

An all-too-quiet Axelle cleared her throat and come closer.
“So this is the Marcus.” She offered her hand. “How do you do?”

“
You’re British!” Marcus told Axelle, shaking her hand. “Axelle I presume? Very nice to finally meet you,” he said and gave her his best, sexiest smile. What a charmer this one! His eyes went from me to Axelle. “So now I know what happened to the triplets of Belleville,” he joked.

Axelle laughed.
“I know we look
a bit
alike.”

“
Yes. In so many ways.” Marcus looked at me. “No. In so many more,” he added.

I smiled and of course Lelly didn
’t miss a bit.

“
Right… He’s a rather dashing bloke, Luce,” she said to me. She hit me lightly in the face then she shrugged.