Chapter 5 Hard to Handle #2
Dennis climbs in the front seat. He doesn’t live too far away from me – a requirement of his job. The car starts and the vibrations under my seat soothe my racing heart.
‘Did you know this is my fourteenth year doing this?’ I ask.
Luc leans back, studying me in a way that makes my stomach plummet into my knees. ‘Do you think you’ll make music for a fifteenth year?’
I sigh, exhaling a breath from deep in my chest. ‘I can’t imagine myself doing anything else…’ I trail off. ‘But I don’t know. It all feels different this time. The fact I can’t recover from this bloody cold, the reaction online…’ I pause for a few seconds. ‘I’m definitely not getting any younger.’
‘What reaction?’ Luc asks gently.
We’re sitting as far away as we can get in the back of this car. It’s nothing like before, in our early twenties, when we would steal little touches. A brush of an arm here, a knee pressed against a leg there.
‘I did a bad thing,’ I admit, and the words swirl in my mouth, the guilt sour.
‘I kissed Jonny in a club a few days ago and everyone is fuming about it because of the kiss with Benji last month. Everyone thought I was out to wreck his marriage because, of course, he hadn’t announced that he and Caro are separated.
Our lives are so fucking weird,’ I breathe.
‘People were saying that I always just take what I want rather than thinking about the consequences because there never are consequences for someone like me.’ The words all tumble out in a jumbled mound of word spaghetti.
‘Benji doesn’t seem to have the same treatment, obviously. As a man.’ I pause. ‘No offence.’
‘Didn’t everyone know that he’s… separated? They haven’t been together for, what, five years?’
‘They reconciled.’ It’s so stupid I almost laugh.
‘But the break-up is for real this time. They didn’t want to tell anyone about it because of how everyone reacted five years ago.
’ I shake my head. ‘But it’s Benji and Caro.
Everyone’s hoping they’ll get back together still, even though they’ve broken up, what, three times.
And I’ve ruined this image for everyone that they’re destined to be together. Apparently.’
‘You put far too much pressure on yourself.’ Luc’s eyes trace faint lines over my face. ‘Sienna Martin, you are music.’
My heart squeezes like it’s clenched in his fist. How can he still do that?
‘Singing and writing songs is all I know how to do.’ I inhale a deep, shaking breath. ‘Which is scary, considering we’re likely coming to the end of my career.’
Luc frowns, and the look on his face sends a heat rolling down my spine. ‘What?’
‘Women in the spotlight are only tolerated for so long.’ I wipe my clammy hands on the YSL with as much subtlety as I can muster. ‘And, if I get a cold like that on tour, I’m done for. I still can’t sing, and it’s been nearly a month. Being thirty sucks.’
Luc reaches out and puts his hand over mine and my heart responds by slowing down to a steady beat. My mouth goes dry.
‘I think you can keep going for as long as you want to keep going,’ Luc smiles. He looks at the back of Kareem’s head.
I’ve worked so hard for my career and taking any time off now would put the nail in my coffin. They’ll forget about me. My heart thumps against my ribcage with so much force Luc must be able to hear it. I don’t think I’m ready to quit. What else would I do?
‘Do I want to keep going when the reviews turn sour, and no one is buying my music anymore?’ It comes out in one long breath, and I have to cough to even everything out afterwards.
‘You’re Sienna Martin.’
I stare at our hands, wanting to swipe away the sheen of sweat gathering in my palm, but not wanting to pull away at the same time.
Maybe I should be more concerned with how holding hands with my ex doesn’t faze me.
I remember Rose, how I felt when I heard that he’d moved on, the crushing devastation in the pit of my stomach when I heard about the engagement.
I force my hand out from under his and stare at it like it’s been on a faraway journey.
‘Was writing always your dream?’ I ask.
‘Not really, I just kind of fell into it,’ he replies vaguely, gaze fixed somewhere on the buildings flashing through the windows.
I nod. ‘Me too. I always wanted to write songs, but somewhere along the way ended up singing them too.’
‘They’re pretty great things to fall into, right?’
His gaze washes over me. I drink the moment down, replenishing a supply of this feeling which left a hole in my life ten years ago. This is a dangerous game.
‘Most people spend their entire lives dreaming and not making it,’ Luc whispers.
‘We are very lucky.’ Nausea crawls up my throat, settling behind the pulse in my neck. ‘I do sometimes have to force myself to remember how lucky I am though.’
‘I get that. On those days where it feels like too much.’
‘Like you have the entire world’s expectations on your shoulders. Like pushy parents but eight billion of them always asking for the next thing, the next tour, the next album, more music…’
Luc pauses for what must be mere seconds, but it’s enough to make me want to grab the words and force them back down my throat.
‘I’m not saying all the world’s population are a fan of me, obviously. There’s at least 7.99 billion of them who currently hate me,’ I laugh.
Luc shakes his head. ‘I can only imagine how hard that is.’
There is silence between us for a few seconds, and my mouth speaks without my brain giving it permission. ‘I always loved poetry.’
‘You can tell that in your music.’
I can hear the smile in Luc’s voice even though I’m looking at the back of Dennis’s head.
‘I’ve always loved all sorts of writing,’ Luc continues, ‘but poetry is something I’ve always found hard. But, like, refreshingly hard?’
This is a safe subject. Anything but about us.
The roiling in my stomach settles somewhat, but another wave of nausea washes over me.
‘I know exactly what you mean. It’s not only a case of putting words on a page.
You have to find the rhythm, the beat, even when there isn’t an actual melody behind it. ’
‘A poem never feels finished to me. There’s always something else you can do to it,’ Luc admits, rubbing his own hands against his trousers.
‘Isn’t that true of all writing?’ I run my hand over my bare thigh. Laser hair removal was the best thing I ever did. ‘That’s why I still change my songs when I sing them – a note change here, a word change there. It’s all the stuff I wish I’d thought of earlier.’
Luc smiles, his eyes dancing in the street lights. ‘I thought it was. I love the note change you do in the bridge of Slow Dancing live.’
‘I was annoyed with myself for not recording it that way to start with.’
His gaze paints me in watercolour and goosebumps pepper my skin.
‘No, I like the original. But I love how fresh it feels and how special for a crowd it is when you give it your own little spin, you know, just for them.’
I hate how relaxed he makes me feel. He won’t always be here, and I don’t want to get used to it.
I’ve barely noticed us going through the gate at the end of my drive. I force my brain to get up to speed, to unbuckle my seatbelt. ‘Thanks, Kareem,’ I say, grabbing my handbag and making sure that my phone is inside. Dennis has opened the door on my side of the car.
‘I’ll walk you,’ Luc says, and he’s out of the car before I can protest that it’s Dennis’s job.
When I turn back, Dennis is watching from next to the car and Luc leaves his hand on the bottom of my back to guide me up the stairs.
‘You didn’t have to do this.’ My heart thumps, but I’m somehow flying.
‘Walk you to your door, or pretend to date you?’
‘Both.’ The word is out of my mouth before my brain lets it.
His smile lifts and he pushes his glasses up his nose. ‘Let’s do this again soon, yeah?’
‘I’m sure Mimi will be in touch.’
‘Sleep well, Sie.’ He pulls me towards him and presses a kiss against my forehead. There’s a camera flash somewhere, and I turn around just in time to spot the paparazzo taking his camera from between the rails in my gate.
‘You know what you’re doing,’ I whisper.
‘I was about to say this isn’t my first rodeo, but it absolutely is.’
I laugh, a soft laugh which would’ve come from my belly if I wasn’t so tired.
If I had more energy to give him the reaction he deserves.
He waits next to me while I fish my house key out of the bottom of my small bag.
He smiles and waves one final time when I’ve crossed the threshold.
I press my hand against the door, listening to his shoes clicking against the marble steps on the way down.
If it wasn’t fake, it would’ve been perfect.
I’m out of bed as soon as the sun rises the following morning, after a night of tossing and turning, throwing the duvet on the floor and picking it back up again, my own sweat soaking through my sheets.
I drag myself out of bed, leaving my phone on the bedside table, as soon as the first peeks of sunlight penetrate the curtains.
They say a watched pot never boils, but I stand and stare at the kettle while it bubbles, seeing if I can guess when it’ll pop.
There are birds in my birdbath, in the small Hampstead garden I never get use out of, flapping their wings against the dried-up stone. They soon fly away when a fox crawls out of the bushes.
I curl up on the sofa, cup of tea in hand, in the suffocating quiet of the house.
I’ve always liked my own company, maybe a little too much, but today it feels like a weight pressing down on my chest. I play the vinyl, a new debut from an artist called Ruby Rain, already sitting in my record player.
The songs ring out in the dead space, doing their best to distract me from my own thoughts.
My songwriting notebook is on the coffee table, but all I can think about are the pap pictures on my phone upstairs.
I’ve been avoiding picking up my phone all night, just in case they’re there.
A small percentage of me wants to see them, but the majority hopes everyone has miraculously lost interest, or that none of the pictures were good enough.
But I know better than that.
I know that Jess contacted the tabloids in advance with a quote, ready for when the pictures landed in their inbox.
That she told them the real story about Xavier, Benji and Jonny.
That I would be going on a date at Down Lowe’s that night with someone who has been in my life for a long time but has recently crossed the line between friends and more.
That I was really happy and couldn’t wait to see where it goes.
I look at the courtyard outside the front of my house through the tilted shutters. A few people walk past the gate in suits with briefcases. Others with backpacks and wearing trainers. I wonder what it would be like to have somewhere to be five days a week every week.
When I can’t take it anymore, I pad back upstairs, abandoning my mug to get cold on the coffee table.
My phone is face down on my nightstand, the charging cable hanging out the end of it.
There are no missed calls and, while it’s still early, it’s a nice indication that I didn’t set Mimi’s plan on fire last night.
I open the apps and there it is. Top of the Daily Mail homepage.
Three pictures of me and Luc at varying stages of last night and SIENNA’S NEW MAN written in capital letters, white writing on a black background.
The picture on the left is of us leaving dinner – we’re walking towards the car, my hand in Luc’s.
He looks at me while I look off into the distance, and we are both grinning from ear-to-ear.
My heart rattles and I bite my lip, chewing at the dry skin and ripping it off with my teeth.
The second is of us getting into the car.
Dennis holds the door open while I climb in – quite ungracefully, now that I’ve seen a photo of the experience – while Luc waits his turn.
I rub my hands on my pyjama shorts. They immediately feel sweaty again.
The final one is the picture taken on my doorstep. The one I’ve been most nervous to see. The one where Luc pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead, the door blurred behind us.
Thankfully, the headline is approved by Jess: SIENNA MARTIN CAN’T HIDE HER SMILE IN NEW ROMANCE WITH MYSTERY MAN AFTER COSY DATE AT EXCLUSIVE LONDON RESTAURANT.
There are already iterations of the same story across other national UK newspapers as well as various US digital magazines.
I open Instagram and look at the comments on my most recent photo, a lot of them sharing their happiness at ‘my news’.
They seeming to buy the headlines that this is real, that this is something which will last a long time.
I try to ignore the ones which are calling out that it can’t be real, that they’ll believe it when they see it, that I’ll be with someone different next weekend. But they settle in my brain.
I have to prove them wrong.
We’re really doing this.
There’s no going back now.
Sienna Martin’s new relationship… thoughts?
If she thinks we’re gonna believe that…
What is this, the third of the week?
Fourth of the fortnight.
I think they’re beautiful together! Can’t wait to see more of them. I hope she’s happy