A Song for Lucy: A Rock Star BBW Romance Short (3 page)

“What if I fall too hard, too
fast?”

“I’ll catch you, I promise. I’ll take you in my arms, kiss your fears away and promise to never let you fall again. Make my dreams come true, Lucy.”

I hit the buzzer to unlock the door below.

“Is that a yes?”

I wiped the tears from my eyes, happiness practically bursting from my body. “It’s a very emphatic maybe,” I grinned.

When Danny burst through the door, we
fell straight into each other’s arms and kissed like two people who had been separated forever, only reuniting again against all odds. In some ways, that was true. We had found each other finally, when both of us had been hiding in plain sight all along. His lips were full and warm, his touch gentle where needed but strong around me. For two people whose lives were defined by music and words, we were eerily silent, our kisses and bodies doing all the catching up we needed to do in silence.

Eventually, we looked into each other’s eyes.

“Now what?” Danny asked.

I was still catching my breath,
my mind a thousand paces behind. “Want to watch some
Homeland
?”

“Nothing like a
bit of terrorist drama to get you in the mood, huh?” Danny laughed. “Perfect.”

***

“I told you I’d show you St Mark’s Square at dusk.”

“I thought it was the Grand Canal?” I smiled, walking arm-in-arm with Danny over the
ancient floors of the world’s greatest drawing room.

“Ah, that’s around the corner. We have to get to the edge.”

I rested my head on his shoulder and he kissed me gently. “I think I could fall in love with Venice,” I said. “I think I could live here.”

“We could,” he replied. “
We could get a little hideaway. I am in that equation, right?”

“Of course,” I giggled. “How
can a rock star can walk around a city like this unnoticed? How is that even possible?”

“Because the city is the star,” he replied. “It’s bigger than all of us. We’re just supporting acts to
the main event.”

I turned to him and kissed his lips. “You’re very good with words.”

“I know. I should do this for a living.”

We rounded a corner and
the water appeared, the orange glow of the sky shimmering off the gently lapping waves as the last embers of the day burned out. “This is too beautiful,” I said, struggling to hold back my tears. “I’ve got to stop crying all the time. Just look at this. Being here with you, I…”

“What?”

“I love you, Danny. You big, stupid oaf. I wish I’d swallowed my pride and told you before now. Maybe we would have avoided all the stupid maneuvering we did. We wasted too much time, didn’t we?”

Danny kissed my forehead. “We got there eventually. Some people never do.
Sometimes the most obvious thing to do is right in front of you, you just can’t see it.”

“You have a tour to finish.”

Danny sighed. “Tomorrow. Not tonight. We’re going to find a tiny little restaurant where all the locals go, eat freshly caught seafood and drink local wine and forget about being rock stars. Tonight, you’re my girlfriend and I’m your boyfriend, nothing more. I want to look into the eyes of the most beautiful girl in the world in the most beautiful city on Earth.”

I pulled his body tightly against me, so close I felt we could
melt into one. “Keep talking, Danny Farris. You might just get a glimpse of that sexy Italian lingerie I bought earlier.”

“I’m counting on it.”

We headed away from the square, down the narrow streets and tiny alleyways to wherever life would take us. In the distance, we heard a Venetian street performer, singing opera that echoed around the old stone walls, a performance that seemed to be just for us.

Danny’s song had led
us here, one way or another. Our duet, on the other hand, was only just beginning.

THE END

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“Hugo Boss. You smell good.”

I flashed a cheeky smile at the six-foot-two slice of pure hunk standing in front of me as I nervously attached the 50mm portrait lens to my camera.

“Dahlia Noir, right?” he grinned back. “Givenchy. You smell gorgeous, too.”

I felt my cheeks flush at the compliment and giggled a little before looking up and extending my hand. “I’m Amy.”

"Amy Reid," he smiled, shaking it. His grip was firm but not too tight – respectful, almost. He placed his other palm on the back of my hand as he shook it and I felt a little tingle run up my arm, all the way to the back of my neck where the hairs stood up on end. "You're a great photographer. I love your work, especially the black and white stuff. I'm Rick."

"Don't worry, I know who you are," I laughed. "No introduction required. And thanks for the compliment."

He released my hand and stood back, hands on hips. "You're welcome."

"How did you know which perfume I was wearing?"

He narrowed his eyebrows and leaned forward, talking quietly. "I'm very interested in cosmetics. You might not know this to look at me, but don't be deceived. If the music thing goes to shit, I can always get a job on one of the counters in Macy's."

I started giggling. "Or Harrods. You're in London now, you know."

He held up his hands. "Excuse me. Forgot about that. As long as the pay is decent, I'll be there."

Everybody I'd spoken to had been right. Rick
Borrell, international megastar and lead singer of Beautiful Losers, was every inch the charmer I had been led to believe. He was also absolutely gorgeous – better looking in the flesh than in his photographs, not that I thought that would have been possible. He was on perfect form today, his dark hair slightly ruffled and with a little stubble enhancing that already handsome face. I was going to have to be careful, maintain a modicum of professionalism. But it wasn't going to be easy. As he positioned himself against the white photographic backdrop and flashed another sexy smile my way, I knew I was putty in his hands.

Keep it together, Amy
, I thought.
He wouldn't be interested in you anyway.

"So who's interviewing me? I hope it's you."

I looked through my viewfinder and focused before firing off a test shot. "Why do you say that?" I asked. "Think I'll go easy on you?"

"No, not at all. Like I said, I love your photos. You took some recently of The Vaccines, right?"

I nodded. "Yup."

"They were cool.
Very raw. They looked like they were taken by someone who actually gives a shit about music."

"I do," I replied, moving closer. "It's my life. It's everything."

His beautiful blue eyes sparkled and widened as I spoke. He paused, then a warm smile washed over his face. "I thought so. So, are you doing the interview or not? Because if it's not you, I'm going to demand that it is."

"Oh dear. You're not going to throw a rock star tantrum, are you?" I teased.

"Absolutely. I'll stomp my foot and everything. And if my demands aren't met, I'm going to pick you up, throw you over my shoulder, march us to my hotel and make you watch as I trash the room, like all good rock stars do."

I couldn't stop giggling now, my attempts at cool rebuttals and smart responses beginning to wane. I kept snapping away as he spoke, snatching intimate moments of him smiling and laughing. "Throw me over your shoulder, eh? I'm a little too big for that. I might give you a slipped disc. You wouldn't be able to stand or do anything for six months and you'd hate me forever."

"Well, now, just stop there for a moment."

I lowered my camera and looked at him, his expression changing to one of curiosity.

"Firstly, I don't want to be responsible for doing anything that could make me hate you forever. Not when our obvious love affair has only just begun."

I smiled nervously and pushed a loose strand of my long red hair behind my ear.

"Secondly, don't you make any of those silly comments about yourself. If you don't know how gorgeous you are, then I'm going to have to be the one to tell you. Corny, I know, but I like a woman to look like one, not like a matchstick."

I was floored, but also slightly suspicious. Was he just being kind? "Thanks," I replied. "But you don't need to flatter me. You must have gorgeous women throwing themselves at you day in and day out."

He crossed his legs, put his hands in his pockets and looked straight at me.
God, those eyes were beautiful
. "I was reading a magazine on the plane over here – Esquire, I think it was. They had one of those polls they do every year, 'Sexiest Woman in the World' or something. You know who won?"

I shook my head.

"Christina Hendricks. You know, the actress with loads of cleavage and a figure that Hollywood likes to describe as 'curvy'? And I agree. In fact, the results weren't even close. She annihilated the rest of the competition. If it wasn't for her,
Mad Men
would have no sexiness in it whatsoever."

I started taking photographs again, partly because I needed more and partly so I could hide once again behind the lens, taking the focus off me. "That's kind, but I'm no Christina Hendricks."

"Whoa there," he said, walking forward and grabbing the front of my camera. He gently lowered it and spoke to me softly, the smell of that Hugo Boss aftershave now just inches from my nostrils, causing a million tiny butterflies to dance around my stomach. "What would make you think that? You have an amazing body, gorgeous red hair and you're absolutely beautiful. It's taken everything in my power not to plant a kiss on those full, soft red lips of yours."

I gasped slightly and felt a rush of warmth between my legs. "So what's stopping you?" I grinned. My legs felt like jelly and it seemed like I could have collapsed at that very moment, falling at his feet like some adoring fan. But I was stronger than that, riddled with all the insecurities that all of us women have, but smarter than the average bear.

"Because," he smiled, almost breaking into a laugh, "that would be terribly unprofessional. Besides, we still have an interview to do and you've barely asked me a thing."

He took a few steps back and positioned himself in front of my camera once again. This time, I didn't raise it. "I've got all the photos I need. I think I just might have caught the real you under that swagger."

This time, he couldn't help but chuckle. "I guess you got me. Am I going to like what I see?"

"I think so," I smiled. "You look warm and approachable in my shots, but don't worry. I managed to capture that streak of arrogance you're famous for. I wouldn't want to tarnish your reputation."

He slowly walked towards me again. "Do you think I'm arrogant, Amy?"

"I don't know you. Unlike some journalists, I don't make assumptions about people that easily. What do you think?
Are
you arrogant?"

"I prefer confident.
Or maybe ambitious. How about confidently ambitious?"

We couldn't stop smiling at each other. "Confidently ambitious. I like that. I can identify with it."

We made our way over to a leather sofa on the far side of the studio. Rick slipped off his jacket to reveal a tight, dark grey top that hugged at his muscular frame. I felt that weakness in my legs again, that churning in my stomach that only comes from being devastatingly attracted to someone.
Keep it together, Amy. You still have an interview to do.

"Where's your publicist?" I asked. "There's normally at least one person here to tell me what I can and can't ask."

He shook his head. "Not for me. I've never been one for big entourages. Or small ones for that matter. You can ask me anything, Amy. I'm an open book."

I set my recorder down on a low glass coffee table. "Okay, are Beautiful Losers splitting up?"

"Shit, you don't mess about. No, we are not. Why would you ask?"

"Well, the rumours have been flying for a while now and you're here to start the buzz about your
solo project. Isn't that the first sign of tension in a band?"

He sighed. "Sometimes, you just have to do your own thing. Beautiful Losers has always been dear to me and always will be. I'm the main songwriter, after all. But sometimes you need a break from sixty-thousand-
seater stadiums. This album allows me to do something a little bit more intimate, stripped back. It's full of songs that simply wouldn't fit on one of the band's albums."

"Are you hoping people see a different side of you? The one who isn't stepping off private jets, attending fashion shows and hanging out with supermodels?"

He smiled and looked around, pretending there was someone else in the room. "Who, me? I am I that person? Yeah, I guess so. Plus, I'm older now. I turned thirty just over two months ago and you start to grow out of all of that shit."

I relaxed back into the sofa, crossing my legs. This didn't feel like an interview. It felt like a conversation – a confessional, almost. "What is it you've grown out of? Are there any things you've regretted?"

"No," Rick smiled, shaking his head and flicking dust off his black jeans. "Being in a band is like a microcosm of life. You get to travel the world, meet some incredible people, hang out in some amazing places. You get to go wild, absolutely ridiculously crazy at times, and live this exhausting dream. But the industry is full of assholes too, some real scumbags who you wouldn't piss on if they were on fire. The tricky bit is navigating between the good and the bad at such a young age and coming out of it unscathed. I've done more in ten years than most people will ever do in one. When you live at that pace, you have to slow down eventually. That's where I am now, with this album. I'm in a different frame of mind, both philosophically and intellectually."

I paused for a moment. "Great answer."

"I know," he grinned. "Want some more?"

"Yes please," I giggled.

"Okay, on one condition. You let me take you out to dinner tonight. There's a restaurant near my hotel that I've been going to for a few years. The owner will give us a nice, private table in the back where you can discover my deepest, darkest secrets. How does that sound?"

I bit my lip. Was he asking me out?
On a date? "Umm…"

He leaned forward. "Don't think about it too long. You'll hurt my feelings, you know."

I felt my face break out into the widest smile and the word I wanted to say simply fell from my lips without any further thought. "Yes."

"Okay, you won't regret it. The food is wonderful. And if you start to hate my company, the head chef is a fairly good-looking dude. You're just his type, he'd love you."

I closed my eyes and placed my hand over my mouth, trying to disguise my laughter. "We haven't even been out yet and already you’re setting me up with someone else."

“Well, I hope that isn’t necessary. I’d like you all to myself. All I have to do now is use my inimitable charm and freakish powers of persuasion to get you to like me.”

Little did he know it, but Rick didn’t even have to try. I was already his, falling faster than I could have imagined. It may not have seemed like it at the time, but that day was fateful.

My life was about to change forever.