Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
EMMA
Standing and talking to Alex Kingston felt easy.
Natural. It seemed cliche to say he wasn’t like any man I’d ever met before, but it was true.
He had a wickedly sarcastic edge to him, but every time he looked at or spoke to me, he was completely different.
As if he was unlocking a hidden part of himself just for me.
As if he truly cared about what I thought.
He asked for my opinion on the artwork around us, about my career, my hopes and dreams, and he listened. Really listened. He was genuinely interested in what I had to say.
“Would you like to write for one of the nationals?” he asked, when I told him how eager I was to further my career.
“I don’t think that’ll happen,” I replied, sipping and emptying another glass of champagne.
He took the empty glass from my hand, brushing his fingers against mine, and I wondered if it was because he wanted another excuse to touch me.
I don’t know.
Maybe my ability to read the room was a bit wonky after drinking too much champagne on an empty stomach, and getting lost in his mesmerising gaze.
But when he tilted his head and frowned, saying, “Why wouldn’t it happen?
I hope you’re not putting yourself down, Emma.
I’m sure you’re just as good as anyone else out there doing the job.
” I melted. I was truly convinced that he believed in me, even though he’d never read anything I’d written, and we hadn’t met before tonight. “I’d hire you,” he added with a smile.
“Maybe one day,” I mused, still holding the peony he’d given me and twirling it between my fingers, lost in daydreams of a new life with happiness and success, and a man who looked at me like I was the first woman he’d ever met.
The only woman he’d ever want to meet. The champagne was really doing a number on me tonight.
I heard Lloyd sigh and glance at his watch as he announced, “We need to make our way to the courtyard, the performance will be starting soon,” before adding. “Come on, Emma. I’ll show you to the Press area.”
I wasn’t that keen on Lloyd at first, but now, I hated him for ripping me out of my dream and back to reality.
“She doesn’t need to go to the Press area,” Alex stated. “She can watch from our table.”
“But we don’t have enough chairs set up,” Lloyd fussed.
“Then I’ll stand,” Alex snapped. “It’s not a big deal.”
Lloyd clearly wasn’t happy as Tobey and Ethan said they weren’t bothered about their chairs either, and that I was welcome to join them.
“She is Press,” Lloyd clipped. “And I’m concerned about the other patrons here tonight who might not want a reporter in the main area when the performance is on.
You know how these things can get out of hand.
They wouldn’t want to be quoted saying or doing anything that could damage their reputation. Also, my boss wouldn’t like...”
Alex cut him off.
“She’s a person first, not just Press,” he hissed. “And if someone says or does something they should be ashamed of, then more fool them if they get found out.”
I didn’t want to cause a problem, and as much as I would’ve liked to sit with Alex and the others, I was here to work, and I needed to clear my head and concentrate. I had a job to do.
“It might be better if I stay in the Press area,” I announced, slicing through the tension. “I need to stay focused, make notes, and take photos. I can do that better if I’m with the other reporters.”
Alex flexed his jaw and took a moment to think before he replied, “Only if you’re sure. You know sitting with us would be no problem.”
I nodded.
“Honestly, its fine.”
Lloyd grinned wide, happy something was going his way. “That’s settled then. Come on, Emma. I’ll show you where to go.”
I said my goodbyes to Tobey and Ethan, then I turned to Alex, who looked unsettled, like he didn’t want me to leave, but didn’t know what else to say.
I can’t lie, I felt slightly unsettled myself, but I had to do my job.
And I was thankful to have met him tonight. He had been quite the distraction.
“It was so lovely to meet you. Thank you for the peony,” I said, then turned to walk away, and he blurted out, “If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”
I peered over my shoulder and smiled. “Thank you.” Then I disappeared into the crowd.
“I hope you’re prepared for anything to happen during this performance,” Lloyd announced in an overly animated tone as I tried to clear my head of thoughts of Alex Kingston and his mesmerising smile, and refocus on where we were going and what I had to do.
Lloyd led me through the gallery, as I moved like I was wading through quicksand, adding, “S.K.A.M. tends to be no-holds-barred when he performs. It can get quite...” He leaned closer as he whispered his last word, “Dark.”
Mr. Gold had said I’d see things that’d make my hair curl.
Now Lloyd was warning me things could get dark.
Surely it wouldn’t be that shocking. This didn’t look like the kind of audience to pay money to see something nefarious.
I think Lloyd was an expert at overselling when it came to this gallery, the artists, and the patrons.
“I can’t wait. I’m sure I’ll love it,” I replied, as we headed through the glass doors at the rear of the gallery and out into a pretty, cobbled courtyard. “I’ve never seen an art performance before.”
“I don’t know what he’s got planned.” Lloyd turned to face me as he continued walking ahead. “But his art is a little leftfield. It won’t be like anything you’ve ever seen before.”
I hadn’t seen anything before. I’d already told him that, but I just nodded and smiled politely.
I glanced around the courtyard as Lloyd headed to the far corner, where an area had been cordoned off from the rest of the guests.
It was so pretty out here. All the trees had been decorated with fairy lights, and there were wrought iron tables and chairs dotted around, giving it an outdoor Parisien café vibe, for the paying guests, anyway.
The press area was more of a pen. No chairs or tables, just the attending men and women with cameras and dictaphones standing around, ready to work.
All I had was my phone. I probably looked like such an amateur, but I was determined to fake it and appear professional.
Lloyd held the rope of the cordon open for me, so I could enter the Press area, then he hooked it back onto the brass pole once I was inside.
“Would you mind if I left you for a moment?” he announced suddenly. “Only I have to sort a few things out backstage. Will you be okay?”
To be honest, I was relieved that he needed to leave. I’d rather stand on my own. It was kind that he’d taken me under his wing, but it was beginning to feel stifling.
“As long as I can catch you later for a quick interview,” I replied, politely.
“Of course.” Lloyd smiled, and then, after excusing himself, he disappeared back into the art gallery and out of sight.
I took a deep breath, feeling more relaxed now that I was safely ensconced in the corner, amongst the other reporters.
The guests were starting to filter into the courtyard, and suddenly, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as someone approached me from the side.
I turned, and there stood Alex Kingston.
“Emma, you can’t stand here on your own and watch this. It doesn’t feel right.” He looked genuinely concerned.
“I’ll be fine. Honestly. I have a good view, and I can get some amazing photos for my article.”
He didn’t respond right away, just paused and regarded me curiously, before saying, “I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”
I shook my head, and he sighed.
“Well, if I can’t tempt you away from your corner, I’ll wish you a goodnight. It was... a pleasure to meet you, Emma. Really, it was.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you too.”
He smiled, then turned and walked away, and a little voice inside my head screamed, ‘What the hell are you doing, Emma? Call him back. Go and sit with him’, but I didn’t.
Instead, I stood there with my jumbled thoughts, wondering what the fuck had just happened. And why a man like him had taken the time to get to know me tonight.
I slid the peony inside my handbag and put my bag on the floor. Then I glanced around, discreetly trying to find Alex in the crowd, but I couldn’t see him. It was as if he’d disappeared into the night.
Would I ever see him again?
At that moment, the lights began to dim, then everything went dark as the crowd hummed with excitement. It was showtime.
In the corner of the courtyard, there was a blue velvet curtain hanging about twelve metres high, and a spotlight fell on that curtain, catching all our attention.
Staccato piano notes began to play. The abrupt, sharp sound coming from the speakers set up around the courtyard made us stand to attention. All chatter subsided, and everyone turned to face the velvet curtain, bristling with anticipation.
Each beat of the piano chord seemed to vibrate right through me, waking my soul as I stared intently at that spotlight.
And then, it stopped, and a gentle rhythm from the strum of a guitar began to play as the curtain slowly opened to reveal a tall, brick wall.
Our focus wasn’t on that dark wall, though; it was on the man who stood on it, wearing a blue boiler suit, with a cloth sack over his head to hide his identity, secured firmly by a thick rope hung around his neck.
He looked like a character from a horror movie.
An eerie figure who’d appeared straight from our nightmares ready to take us to hell.
His arms hung limply at his sides, and he wore black leather gloves to cover his hands.
Hands that looked like they were ready to do wicked deeds.
But he stood still, waiting, as we watched with bated breath.
Then, his voice reverberated around the courtyard. An electronic voice.
He was using a voice changer.
“Pride,” he stated loudly. “What does it mean?”