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Oh, it was a love interest. Well, that put a very different spin on it, didn’t it? She suddenly felt sorry for…her. She was positive it was a woman. A man wouldn’t be so upset, they’d be obnoxious and probably just call, so she was pretty sure it was a woman, and she felt badly for her.
Hadn’t we all been there?
Alex: Look, I don’t know who you’re trying to connect with, but I assure you, I am not them.
Unknown Number: You’re serious? I can’t believe it. She gave me someone else’s number? You’re not Jeri?
A her, hoping for a she. Well, that did sound more interesting. Jesus, how dull was her love life lately that living vicariously via an unknown person and a wrong number was now the highlight of her day?
Alex: I guess so, I’m sorry, but no, I am not Jeri. She sounds like a delight (Not) and you’re better off without her.
Unknown Number: I guess it’s me that should be sorry, pestering you all afternoon. Just my luck.
Alex: I know the feeling. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure someone just as lovely will come along again soon.
What on earth had she said that for, and more’s the point, why was she continuing this conversation? She had things to do, like stare out of the window and watch the storm as it raced across the channel. Or get on with composing her next album, or a multitude of other things.
Unknown Number: I’m not so sure she is lovely, now. And I really am getting past the point of hoping I’ll ever meet anyone lovely again. Everyone is so selfish now, don’t you think?
Alexandra knew that feeling way too much. Her last serious relationship, if you could call it that, had been over a year ago. A woman she’d met at a concert. Alex had been the guest of Hans Von Speltz, a revered and most talented pianist himself. His shows in Amsterdam had been magnificent, and Laurel had been spellbound by him. They’d met up back in London and gone out a few times before Laurel decided that she thought the spark would be there by now, and for her, it wasn’t.
If Alex was honest, she had been a little smitten, and a little unsure why Laurel wasn’t feeling it because she certainly acted like she was. In fact, Laurel had been quite agreeable to the many things Alex introduced her to, parties and people, especially things in the bedroom, so it was a bit of a letdown to suddenly be single again.
But Alex had taken it on the chin and gotten over it like a grown-up. She didn’t want to get involved with anyone who didn’t know how they felt about her. There had been plenty of those situationships in her time, and she wasn’t looking for that.
Now though, she felt ready for some romance, real romance. The heated, exciting, pulse-racing kind, but romance didn’t seem ready for her right now. And in the event that she did meet someone, asking them to be somewhat closeted, to avoid the headlines and keep secrets, wasn’t what most out women were looking for, was it?
Alex: I get that, it can be quite difficult. Sometimes all we have is hope, and music, we always have music.
All she had was music, more like.
A musical prodigy as a child, she’d spent all of her youth learning to play the piano. Using her family’s nickname, Sasha, she joined Solar Flare, the biggest rebellious thing she could have done to step out on her own and away from her mother’scontrol where her music was concerned. It had been fun to be hanging out with people her age, travelling, and performing and finding themselves in the process.
But the pressure of that, to be seen, to be who the media wanted them to be, had been hard. She could never have been like Lucy, and just done it anyway. Instead, Alex just didn’t date. It was easier than pretending to like boys. Chris had been the same. Sometimes they let the press think they were an item, but it was never the case.
It was funny, how Chris was the only one she was still in touch with now, her pseudo-boyfriend from twenty years ago. Lucy had disappeared. Unable to cope with the scars and the loss of Nicky, the last Alex had heard, Lucy had taken herself off to America and got lost in the woods somewhere. Jenna had pretty much done the same, just closed the door on that part of her life, changed her name, changed her number, and moved. Their agent at the time didn’t know where she was, but a few years later one of the big music mags had done a five-year anniversary piece. She’d grimaced at that, and refused to take part, but it hadn’t stopped them printing photos and stories about where they all were now. All except for Lucy of course, but Jenna was married, a mum to two small kids and living somewhere north of London with her stockbroker husband. The photos they used had clearly been taken surreptitiously and without Jenna’s permission, but they at least blanked out the faces of her kids. Sasha was happy for her but didn’t try to get in touch.
After the crash, everything changed. She came out to her family, the press got wind and it was exciting headlines for a few weeks before they moved on to someone else’s love life. She’d grabbed life by the scruff of its neck and had been like a kid in a sweet shop for a while, but nobody cared anymore about thekeyboard player from a group that didn’t exist and had been forgotten about.
A change of hairstyle and nobody recognised her, moving from one woman’s bed to the next without any hassle. Until finally, she was forced into therapy to deal with the aftermath of the survivor’s guilt that she carried and realised that bedhopping had been a way to numb the pain, to release endorphins that made her happy and kept her busy enough that she didn’t think about the crash.
That had helped somewhat with lessening the panic attacks. Time and healing had given her tools to deal with them on the whole, but feeling stressed and overwhelmed always gave them the opportunity to rear their ugly head. An upcoming tour would definitely push her limits.
God, did she really want to bring a new lover into her life to deal with this?
Unknown Number: Music certainly helps. God, I can’t believe I’ve been ghosted. Typical of my luck, I guess. Thanks for being so understanding.
Alex: I know what it’s like. I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you. And it’s been no problem actually, it was kind of nice to break up the silence of the day.
Unknown number: Well, you have my number, if you’re ever in need of a silence breaker.
Alexandra shook her head and put the phone down, her attention turning to the piano that took centre stage in the living room. She sat on the stool and lifted the lid that covered the keys.
“Alexa, off.” The sound system shut down and the room was silent again, bar the noise of the wind rattling outside. Herfingers touched the keys like a lover would touch a cheek, gently and curious, before they began to glide up and down, hitting the notes perfectly as the music gradually increased to an impending crescendo. She felt every part of it seep into her soul and energise her.
Chapter Three
The beginning of July
