Chapter 23
‘That was the best experience of my entire life!’ I yell as we run off stage, panting.
‘Totally fucking mind-blowing!’ Matteo says, his face flushed with adrenaline. He is gripping my hand and wiping sweat off his face with the crook of his arm.
‘The connection. Did you feel it?’ I pant. ‘With the crowd?’
Matteo nods in a daze. ‘I’ve never done anything like that before.’
We are buzzing as the Dollz crowd round, ecstatic.
‘That was awesome, babes,’ shouts Tash. ‘Totally fucking awesome. We’ve already uploaded everything to our social media. You might wanna do the same, love.’
‘Christ, if you hit the big time, you berra take us with you, to America and that,’ says Cherry.
‘Of course. Of course.’ I’m still cringing about the song lyrics. The Dollz continue making a huge fuss.
‘It wasn’t about you,’ I tell Matteo earnestly for fear that, once the adrenaline wears off, he’ll think I’m a deluded crackpot. ‘It was about… someone else.’
‘Also called Matteo?’ he says in a sceptical tone. ‘Right, I won’t give it another thought. It’s fine. It’s cool. I believe you.’
He’ll not be winning a BAFTA any time soon.
‘Let’s get these things off, shall we?’ I say, changing the subject. My heart is beating like the clappers. ‘I could do with a drink or five.’
I turn to the Dollz.
‘Who has the key?’ asks Tash, brandishing her bottle of Prosecco.
‘You, babes,’ says Big Mand.
‘No, I don’t.’
They squabble over who had the key last and where they might have put it.
‘What were you all doing just before we got here?’ I say, already losing their attention.
‘I was doing your Hollywood bikini wax on the kitchen table, wasn’t I, Cherry?’ says Big Mand. ‘So I’m definitely not a suspect. I had nothing to do with it.’
‘She was,’ says Cherry, showing off her smooth bikini line. ‘But I did request a Brazilian Desert Island to be fair. Tony will be so disappointed.’
‘I’ve had the lot lasered off. Permanently. I’ve got NO hair at all,’ Tash says. ‘It’s, like, so fresh down there now.’
And before? Not so fresh? Matteo gives me a withering side-eyed glance.
‘I like all mine off too, just in case.’ We all turn towards Liberty.
Just in case of what?
Tash runs her hand soothingly up and down her friend’s arm. ‘Understandable, babes.’ I feel a prickle of worry that the girls are once again veering off-topic.
‘I prefer to go natural. How a real woman is meant to look,’ says Big Mand.
‘But I’ve had fake pubes tattooed on, though,’ Tash says sharply, causing a bit of an ugly spat to break out.
‘For fuck’s sake. It doesn’t matter.’ Matteo tuts loudly. ‘Sorry, but you’ll have to come with me while I manage the rest of this festival.’
I swallow. He’s even incredible when he’s being moody. He runs a hand through his glossy locks and over his stubble as though he’s thinking of how to solve this latest catastrophe we’ve caused.
‘Let’s go,’ I say, trying not to sound like I’m about to rip his T-shirt off with my teeth. ‘I’m sure the key will be back in the villa somewhere. We’ll find it later.’
I feel like he needs some hope to cling to.
‘This is Connie,’ Matteo says, introducing me to his management team.
They are trying not to smirk as he makes no mention of the fact that we are shackled together.
I listen as he debriefs them on what is still to do, and they feed back to him about rigging, performers, schedules and problems. It is fascinating.
There is so much involved in the festival’s management.
I wonder he isn’t more apprehensive about us being stuck together.
He’s so cool in a crisis. I must stop staring at him though. I’d hate to put him off.
‘Here’s your walkie-talkie, boss,’ says the gorgeous girl from earlier, flicking her eyes down to our wrists. Probably checking to see if we’re holding hands. She gives me a tight smile before he dismisses the team and orders them all to keep in touch.
We spend hours going from stage to stage, talking to performers, checking on sound equipment, lighting and microphones.
It has been enlightening. For all I have a music degree, the reality of performing live at a festival is completely different to the theory and the behind-the-scenes nature of theatre performances.
I am hooked. There have been pyrotechnic explosions, glitter bombs going off, ticker-tape cannons and bursts of powder paint spraying crowds as an assortment of rock and pop bands drive them into a frenzy.
The atmosphere has been turbocharged and now, even with a new day dawning, it’s still showing no signs of letting up.
‘I had no idea how much is involved for a singer to perform on stage,’ I say as we walk back towards the management tent.
He has been so focused we’ve barely had time to talk.
‘You’re quite the workaholic.’ I’ve had to take my shoes off, and when I stumble over a lump in the ground, he swoops to catch me, taking hold of my hand firmly.
‘I know what you need,’ he says, stopping by a stall selling flip-flops.
It’s borderline heroic how thoughtful he is, isn’t it?
‘Pick some,’ he says, taking out his wallet. I immediately realise I have very poor decision-making skills. They are all exquisite. So many pretty colours.
‘What do you think of these?’ I say, holding up a pink and orange pair. ‘Or do you prefer the blue and green?’
‘The green matches your eyes,’ he says, taking me by surprise. It’s like it’s the first time he’s noticed me attached to him for the last three hours. ‘Sorry I’ve had to drag you round like this. I really appreciate it.’
I immediately blush and say nothing as Matteo hands over a twenty-euro note and helps me slip them on.
We bend together as he gets down on one knee while I lift each foot.
It’s a very fairy-tale and outlandishly romantic gesture in my mind, even if I am dressed in bondage gear and look like I charge by the hour.
‘They seem to fit perfectly, Cenicienta,’ he says.
I feel the excitement building between us. I’m lost in the moment when a familiar voice breaks the mood.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ Alex glares at us from a few feet away, hands on hips.
Matteo scrambles to his feet. The atmosphere is suddenly sour. ‘Nothing.’
‘It sure looks like something to me.’
‘Alex,’ he says, holding up our wrists. ‘Chill out. We’re in a bit of a situation here but I’m handling it.’
‘Why her?’ Alex says rudely. ‘I bet you’re loving this, aren’t you?’ Her eyes flash angrily at me. ‘You probably planned it.’
‘No!’ I protest. ‘Of course not.’
Christ, I’d hate for Matteo to think I had anything to do with this unfortunate and glorious, life-enhancing, stuff-of-dreams situation.
‘Seems pretty convenient to me,’ Alex spits. ‘First you make goo-goo eyes at him when you should be singing to the crowd, then you write a fucking song for him when you should be doing covers and now you’ve got him on his knees calling you “Cinderella”. You barely need the fucking handcuffs!’
I feel Matteo entwining his fingers through mine to take my hand firmly.
‘You’ve hardly done any work since the day she arrived,’ she tells him, her eyes wild with fury. ‘You’re looking at her with horny eyes every time she walks in the room. And I’m sure you could’ve had those cut off if you really wanted to. What the fuck is going on between you two?’
‘It’s none of your business,’ says Matteo. ‘Not any more.’
‘So that was pretty intense,’ I say a few minutes later as we approach the management tent.
Matteo has not so much as looked at me since the flip-flop stand, never mind with horny eyes.
Which I have to admit I would be absolutely thrilled at.
But I do feel being shackled together is becoming more than a pain for him. It’s also about to get a lot worse.
‘I’m so sorry about this.’ I am genuinely mortified. ‘But I really need to go to the, erm…’
Humiliating. I should have perhaps mentioned to him earlier that I come from a long line of weak-bladdered women for whom anything remotely exciting, active or cool in temperature will bring on the need to visit the restroom.
‘Sure,’ he says, avoiding eye contact. ‘There’s a Portaloo round the back of here for VIPs. Do you need to go right now?’
I’d rather die.
‘No. I couldn’t. I’ll wait.’
‘I’ll stay at the door.’
‘I have to take the whole suit off and I’m no contortionist.’ I jangle the handcuffs to make my point.
He looks slightly bemused.
‘Can we go back to the villa and find the key?’ I ask, chewing my lip.
He checks the time. ‘Fuck it. Let’s go. That’s why I have a management team, right? They can finish up without me.’
We walk out of the tent and over to his lady scooter.
Without taking his eyes from mine, he runs his hands down the sides of my body.
This time, his hands linger there. My breathing becomes all lustful and I notice his is the same.
He picks me up to sit on the front of the bike before sliding his arm up over my head so that we can grip the handlebars together.
Sitting behind me, he closes his hands over mine and pulls the throttle.
My skin is burning with longing, and my neck tingles as his chin brushes against it.
We are cheek to cheek, snaking our way through the quiet back roads.
We arrive at the villa to find it empty and race straight through to the kitchen to see the key lying on the table, along with a bottle of tequila, slices of lemons and some shot glasses.
‘That seemed almost too easy,’ says Matteo incredulously as the handcuffs spring open. He pours us both a shot. ‘Shame. I got quite used to them.’
Oh my.