Chapter 23
Matteo opens the door to an anxious-looking Birdie. She spots me immediately and leans forward to whisper in his ear.
‘What? How did that happen?’ Matteo says loudly in a strained voice, stepping away from her. ‘I don’t understand. Can’t they get around it somehow?’
Birdie shakes her head. Her usual cool exterior and nonchalant poise have deserted her.
‘Have you tried talking to him?’
Again, she shakes her head. ‘He’s on the plane. He wants to see us as soon as he lands.’
‘And the investors?’
‘Furious.’
Matteo rakes his hand through his hair as he swivels back towards her. I see his lips pressed tightly together, his eyes dull. It must be bad, whatever she said. Matteo links his hands together, resting them on the crest of his head as he groans loudly. ‘Fuuuuuuuuck.’
‘I don’t know what to do,’ Birdie says, putting a hand to her throat. ‘I thought they were okay with it.’ She huffs. ‘I should have stayed with them at the studio.’
Matteo moves his hands to his pockets. ‘Yes, you should have. Instead of following me here on some wild goose chase. And trying to cause trouble between me and my wife.’
Nobody could have prepared me for the jolt of feeling that swooshes through me at the sound of Matteo calling me his wife.
Birdie studies me for a second, and even from the far side of the room I can see her face go red.
Matteo sounds really annoyed with her. Part of me is secretly very pleased and I’m loving how he is standing up to her.
She’s nothing but a bully, at the end of the day.
‘What time does he land?’ he asks forcefully.
Birdie checks her phone. ‘One hour.’
Matteo walks towards me. Birdie hovers by the door because no one has invited her in.
‘Does this mean you’re not leaving today?’ I whisper as he reaches me.
He shakes his head. ‘Doesn’t look like it.’
I half smile.
He half smiles back, his face hidden from Birdie.
Our eyes have a short conversation.
Mine are saying, Yippee. I’ll see you later and perhaps we can pick up where we left off. You saying you love me, and me saying it back because I didn’t get the chance to before.
His are saying, I’ll spend my entire life making up for all of this and I’ll adore you for the rest of time. Probably. Whatever is going through his head, it has brought a sparkle to his eyes.
‘Good luck,’ I say, reaching for his fingers, aware our every move is being monitored. ‘See you later?’
He blinks slowly, a genuine smile spreading across his face, lighting it up. He raises my fingers to his lips and stares at the wedding ring he placed there, before dipping his head to place a light kiss on it. ‘Don’t take it off. We have a lot of unfinished business, Cenicienta.’
His words send a shiver of excitement up my spine as I watch him walk out the door with that annoyingly sexy but firmly rejected French floozy. A smile spreads across my face from ear to ear.
Matteo. Is. In. Love. With. Me.
* * *
The moment they have gone, I race over to the bureau.
It is adjacent to the picture window, overlooking the city.
My heart is bursting, my pulse is racing, and song lyrics are zipping around my brain like electric sparks.
I need to get them out before my head explodes.
Matteo and I have been given a glorious second chance to get this right and, this time, I’m determined not to let anything, or anyone, get in the way.
I rip off my wig, kick off my ridiculous skyscraper sandals and tiny Barbie outfit and sling on a hotel silky dressing gown so that I might give in to this overwhelming desire to express my thoughts and feelings.
What seems like seconds later, I am opening a notepad full of scribbles and lyrics.
I’m banging out a beat with the pencil, but I need more.
I need a piano. Think. Think. That’s it!
The Cocktail Hour. Jumping up, I race over to the wardrobe to grab some clothes.
I pull on some joggers and immediately spot one of Matteo’s sweaters.
Slipping it over my head, I breathe in the manly scent of bergamot and woody spice.
Perfect. I hurriedly lace up my sneakers, grab the notepaper and room key and head out into the corridor.
I’m passing by Liberty and Cherry’s room when Cherry bursts out of the door cackling with laughter, stumbling into the corridor. She is dressed to kill. Her flaming-red hair is silky and salon fresh. It contrasts perfectly with her green silk baggy trousers and bra top.
‘Cherry, wait for me, man,’ Liberty is yelling from the room.
‘No time! I’ve missed five fucking days’ worth and I’m going to friggin’ well make up for it. Ooh, look. Connie’s here!’ Cherry launches herself at me in a cloud of tequila fumes.
Liberty pokes her head round the door. ‘You better come in.’
Gah! I’m in the throes of being a musical genius!
‘I’d love to but Matteo… He just said he loves me!’
‘Okay. That’s lovely. Let’s celebrate,’ says Liberty.
Cherry grabs my arm. ‘No, she’s coming with me. We’ll celebrate downstairs.’
‘No,’ says Liberty, grabbing my other arm. ‘We’re all going to go back in the room until we discuss this like adults. What did you say when he said he loves you?’
There’s so much tugging and pulling that none of us notice the door sliding quietly shut.
‘Don’t worry.’ Liberty holds out her hand, palm up. ‘Cherry, where’s your key?’
‘What key?’
‘The room key.’
‘I don’t need one. I’m going out all night to gamble and drink irresponsibly.’
‘But why?’ I intervene. ‘You shouldn’t be drinking in your’ – my eyes flick to her belly. It still looks swollen. Like she’s swallowed a netball – ‘in your delicate condition.’
‘I’m not preggers!’ she yells. ‘I got my period! Total bloodbath. Absolutely everywhere. Never been so relieved in all my life. It must have been the stress of thinking I was preggers making it late. I’m just so effing gutted that I’ve missed out on all that free booze.
And look at the size of this.’ She points to her belly.
‘It’s all sugar but it’ll melt with the booze. ’
‘Congratulations,’ I say. ‘Why don’t you two sort out your room key at reception while I go sort things for tomorrow’s show at Eddie from Talent Star’s birthday bash?’
‘Fuck that. I’ve missed out on nearly everything. I’m gonna be binge-drinking and doing all the things. Doubt I’ll have time for that freebie show. Eddie can shove it.’
Liberty visibly swallows. ‘She’ll be fine after she’s had a messy one tonight. No worries.’
‘And you’re coming with me.’ Cherry stabs Liberty in the chest with a pointy talon. ‘To cheer you up. She’s devastated Hank Junior hasn’t tried to find her,’ she tells me.
‘And that he could be a hitman?’ I add.
‘No. Just that he’s done a runner. Like all the rest. It’s so sad, pet. Let’s find a new cowboy for you. One with a real trash-tache.’
Liberty looks genuinely forlorn. ‘I really liked him.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, rubbing her arm. ‘I’ll meet you guys later. I just have to do this… erm, thing.’
I’m not two steps from the lift when they ping open and Big Mand and Big Sue clamber out, weighed down with bags. Big white paper bags with gold rope handles that I recognise. They immediately try to hide them.
‘Shopping. For costumes,’ says Big Mand too quickly.
‘Oh, yeah?’ I really want to pry but I’m in a rush myself so I’m going to have to let it go. ‘Can’t wait to see them,’ I say, jumping in the lift just as the doors are closing.
Big Sue yells at me. ‘We can’t make the birthday bash tomorrow, sorry!’
And the doors close.
WTF!
Ping. The doors open and Tash and Sister Kevin are waiting in the foyer. ‘There she is! I’ve been messaging you all afternoon,’ she says.
‘Sorry. My phone’s been off. And by the way, Matteo says he loves me. What’s up with you two?’
Tash, hanging from Sister Kevin’s arm, beams at me. ‘We’re going to see Celine Dion at the Bellagio. She’s doing a one-off performance tomorrow night and Kev won us tickets at the craps table,’ she squeals. ‘He had to lose eight hundred dollars first but then he hit the jackpot with these tickets!’
‘Wait. Tomorrow evening? But we’re working tomorrow, at the birthday bash as a favour for Nancy, remember? And then it’s the last night of Ged and Liam’s pre-moon.’ She’ll never squeeze in the Celine Dion concert.
Tash’s face falls. ‘It’s okay. It’s fine.’
Phew. Tash is the lead vocalist. She’s far too professional to drop the Dollz in it like that. Thank God.
‘You can do the birthday bash without me. No one will notice I’m missing. And Matteo loves you? That’s so cute, babes.’
Gah!
* * *
It doesn’t take me long to locate the Cocktail Hour bar or the grand piano that sits in the darkened corner.
I’m not even going to ask anybody if I can play it because there’s no one around.
The bar doesn’t open for another hour. I sit down and take a deep breath in.
I take a deep sniff of his scent on the sweater and let images of Matteo swirl around inside my head until I feel the endorphins flooding my brain and my insides vibrating with excitement.
Keeping my eyes closed, I put my fingers on the piano keys and start to play.
Goosebumps cover my arms at the sound of my voice, the raw emotion mixed with the heady rush of adrenaline.
As my voice grows, so does my confidence in these lyrics.
Every now and then, I stop to adjust the key or scribble a new line down or change the tempo slightly before picking up where I left off.
This has to be the easiest song I’ve ever written. I feel light-headed with euphoria. Once I’ve cracked it, I check the time. I have ten minutes left to record.
‘Sorry, ma’am. You can’t be in here,’ says a waiter. ‘Staff only.’
‘But I am staff. Kind of. I’m the entertainment. The singer from England,’ I say pleadingly. ‘I just need ten minutes to finish rehearsing.’
He tilts his head and studies me. ‘Proposal woman?’
‘Yes.’ I sigh.
‘Knock yourself out,’ he says, grinning. ‘By the way, we were all rooting for the other fella. The hot Latino one, not the posh show-off one.’
‘Me too.’ I giggle.
‘Mind if I stay and listen?’ he asks. ‘While I set up the tables?’
Yikes. An audience so soon? ‘Well, I only just wrote it. I was just sort of practising really.’ My nerves have just plummeted through the floor, down through the layers of rock to the earth’s core. Such is the sensitive nature of a creative’s confidence.
‘I promise, you won’t even realise I’m here,’ he says, wiping down the tables.
I swallow a lump in my throat. I guess he is doing me a favour instead of throwing me out. I will simply keep my eyes closed and pretend he’s not here. ‘Yep. Sure. No problem.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘“Matteo the Magnificent, Volume One”.’
I shrug.
I prop my phone up on the piano, press record and spread my fingers across the keys, ready to go.
My wedding ring twinkles in the solitary light swinging above the piano.
I take a beat to admire it. The smoothness of the shape.
The contrast of the platinum band against the raised gold running round the middle.
A warmth spreads through my body as I cast my mind back to Matteo sliding it on my finger, his eyes not leaving mine.
I hear Elvis’s words echo round my brain as though he is standing in front of me.
‘The ring is only a symbol. It shows the world that you belong to someone, just as they belong to your heart. But as you wear them, it’s your care, devotion, and concern for one another that are the true signs of your love. ’
I play the opening chords and hear the shy sound of my voice lifting the words, teasing them out, releasing them into the world.
I forget all about the waiter listening.
Just like with the Sinfonia, I’m at my best when I completely let go and exist only in the moment.
Flashes of me on stage push me to reach for those higher notes, stretching them, controlling them with precision.
By the time the second verse and chorus come around, I am belting out this tune for all it’s worth.
It seems to take on a new life, a new fire.
My eyes are clamped shut and all I can hear is my own breath as my fingers crash down on to the piano keys.
I am no longer in full control. All of the tension of the past few days rushes from my body.
All of the gruelling practice I put in for the opera tour is paying off big time.
All the sexy and sass taught to me by the Dollz has given me an edge.
A perfect melting pot of my singing experience to date.
I AM ON FIRE.
When I finish the song on the haunting melody that I began with, I am breathless. I hear the waiter slow clapping. He is joined by a few more people clapping. Gah! My eyes spring open.
The waiter is beaming. Next to him, Matteo is standing watching me. He gives me a long, burning look before he strides across the room and pulls me into a passionate kiss. ‘Connie,’ he says in a hoarse voice when we break free. ‘That was… magnificent.’
I immediately blush. He’s already guessed half the song title.
‘You wrote that?’
I nod.
‘Just now?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Wow.’
I blush even deeper. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘We were on our way to the recording studio when I heard you singing.’ Matteo points to a security team at the bar entrance and Birdie staring at me with a stunned expression on her face.
My chest is pounding as I’m rooted to the piano stool.
‘You have a really powerful voice. It carries. Like a really long way.’
‘Blame the Sinfonia,’ I say. ‘Was it too powerful?’ I’m desperate for more praise.
‘No. Not at all. It was perfect. What’s it called?’
Busted.
My face is a raging furnace.
Matteo laughs. ‘I see.’ He rubs his face. ‘Oh, man. I will never tire of this.’
A screaming mob of women start harassing the security team to get to whoever they are protecting. Birdie makes a frustrated gargling sound.
‘Sorry I can’t stay. Send me the video. Who knew my kisses fizz like champagne?’ He leans over to place a light kiss on my lips. ‘You’re right. They do.’
Glittery tingles race through my veins.
‘By the way,’ he says over his shoulder as he follows Birdie back out of the bar, ‘the sweater looks great on you.’