‘Let’s hear that again,’ he shouted, and we screamed until we were hoarse.
Exploding Flash Pots went off as the drums and guitars began the intro. Cash raised up both his hands as if he were a god. Tears flowed from my eyes when his voice filled the stadium. I stared at him, mesmerized.
It was my favorite song. The Girls Who Don’t Say No.
The crowd started pulsing with the energy coming from him. The platform he was standing on grew into a kind of walkway, and to my shocked delight it was bringing him closer to us. He strutted along the expanding metal walkway in my direction and I screamed hysterically.
As he was right over me he suddenly looked directly into my eyes and sang, ‘I’ve been waiting for you all my life.’
I froze. I felt as if he had zapped me with a cattle prod. Fine, I don’t know what that feels like, but it was what I imagine it would feel like. I lost the feeling in my legs.
He moved on and sang the next line looking into the eyes of another girl, but my girlhood crush had just become love.
I was in love with Cash Hunter.
Chapter Three
Tori
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tQLIyqtDx0
At that time Leah was going out with a guy from a rock band called Roll Over Beethoven. The drummer was single and she thought we might make a good team.
‘Everybody knows the best way to get over someone is to go out with someone else,’ she declared.
It seemed like a sensible idea. More sensible, anyway, than the fantasy love affair I was having with an unattainable pop idol. His name was Colton and he was sexy in a moody, grungy sort of way. The exact opposite of Cash. He dressed only in black, and I think he probably colored his hair jet black too, but he was a sweet guy underneath it all, and he made me laugh.
It was easy to drink one beer too many, and let him take my V card in the back of his truck. We became an item. The sex was good, but it wasn’t the mind, body, and soul thing I was looking for, which was a real shame because he fell hard for me.
Then, one night I went to one of his gigs and I found him by the toilets with his trousers around his ankles and his dick inside another woman. I didn’t love him, but I was still shocked and hurt.
He looked at me with bitter eyes and said, ‘Now we’ve both cheated on each other.’
Then he turned away from me and carried on humping her. I fled the scene knowing I’d hurt him, but I told myself I would never do that to another human being again. The next time I start a relationship will be when I am well and truly over Cash Hunter.
My thoughts are interrupted by Victor stopping the car outside the house. Cash and Britney have not yet arrived, so I run up to my room and pace the floor. A million thoughts rush around in my head.
The big plan came to me when my aunt mentioned that a good friend of hers who worked in a recruitment agency in London had told her about an interesting job that had just come in. Cash Hunter’s father was looking for a young woman, 19 - 25 who was independent, tolerant, and possessed a strong sense of duty to act as a companion/PA to his daughter. No actual PA experience was needed.
That sounded like a description of me. I was all those things!
The plan was simple. Apply for the job as Britney’s PA, see Cash Hunter up close, and realize that he was just a manufactured, media created, playboy prick, and naturally and effortlessly fall out of love.
But at that time it seemed a very long shot since my aunt’s friend had already warned her there were hundreds of applicants. Imagine my astonishment when I was called for an interview and my shock when I actually got the job. I was convinced it was fate. It had to be. Me, chosen out of hundreds of applicants. I was meant to be here.
So here I am. Close enough to see Cash for what he really is.
Why then am I pacing the room like some caged animal?
I hear the distinct thunder of his Lambo, followed by voices on the street below. I run to the window to stand behind the curtains and watch them. Britney skips up the steps. He says something to her and she laughs.
I think I’m pacing because in spite of everything I’d told myself in the car … Cash Hunter is even more potent in the flesh than I gave him credit for, and it’s already pretty obvious that there’s no falling out of love with someone like him.
I freeze when I hear their voices come up the stairs. They stop at the top.
Then I hear Britney call out, ‘Sweet dreams.’
Quick light footsteps come towards my room.
‘Come in,’ I call when she knocks.
Britney puts her head around the door. She looks happy. ‘Just wanted to let you know that Cash is sleeping in the guest bedroom and Dad just came home so we’re off to buy me a birthday present, but we won’t be long because I know exactly what I want.’
I force a smile. ‘Great.’
‘By the way I’ve already told Cora we’re having chicken pie for dinner.’
‘That’s good,’ I say, stretching out my smile until my cheeks hurt.
After she goes I look at the time. It’s just after one. I had brunch so I’ll skip lunch and save myself for one of Cora’s lovely teatime treats. Unless I am mistaken, I believe she is making scones today. I open a magazine I picked up at the newsstand yesterday evening and go right to the horoscope page at the back of it. Hmmm … Aries.
Acting impulsively is not the best idea this week. Resist temptation. Don’t eat that last cookie in the packet. Instead, take stock, get your ducks in a row, and get ready for the best adventure of your life. Life is about to surprise you.
I read it again. Got it. Don’
t act impulsively.
I flick the pages disinterestedly. Imagine my surprise when I turn a page and see a large picture of a shit-faced Cash in leather pants and silver shirt. A disheveled blonde is snuggled up to him. They are in a nightclub or restaurant. The title of the piece is:
Is Cash Hunter the most
eligible man in the world?
On closer inspection I note from their reflection in the mirror behind them that his right hand is full of blondie’s butt. Inappropriate and quite frankly tasteless butt grab, but the blonde seems to dig it. She is looking up at him with an awed, stupid expression on her face. I let my eyes move over to his free hand. A sigh escapes my mouth. I’ve always loved his hands. They are big, strong and manly. Mooning over his hand, God, you’re lame. I leave the picture and start scrutinizing the next one.
That turns out to be a to-die-for picture of him at a sunny beach. All his lovely, hard muscles are on display and he is with a different blonde this time. This one is curvier and seems more self-assured. She has a pair of sunglasses pushed up on her head, one hand is resting on her tanned hip, and the other is placed possessively on his chest.
He’s always had a thing for blondes.
A stray thought pops into my head. I’m blonde.
I turn the page quickly and there is a full-page, black and white photo of him in a tux at some kind of award ceremony or music bash. This time I recognize the woman he is with. Octavia Harding, his manager. Except for her fake breasts, that actually look like two halves of a tennis ball shoved underneath her skin, she is two lean nuggets away from being an anorexic.
I don’t like her. I never have.
From the first moment I laid eyes on her I felt that there was something cold and malicious about her. A couple of times I have seen videos of her standing next to the band members, an arrogant smile stretching her crimson mouth; she actually makes my skin crawl.
I could easily have sat there gazing at his picture a bit longer, but I close the magazine with a snap and drop it into the wastepaper basket. Seeing the magazine in the bin makes me feel mildly victorious. I’ll conquer my silly crush if it is the last thing I do. I decide to have a bath. Britney will be at least an hour, and being in the bath always relaxes me. Allows me to think and clear my head.