The Story Of Us - Jones Lesley (читать книги бесплатно полностью без регистрации сокращений txt) 📗
We all meet up at the Docklands penthouse, the boys still own it and we all use it at various times after nights out in the city when we need somewhere to crash. It feels like years since we’ve all gotten ready together like this, probably because it is. We take forever as we talk and drink and have a general catch up, we’ve spoken on the phone almost daily since I’ve been back in the country but I haven’t seen them in almost a year and there are a few tears as soon as we set eyes on each other. By the time we finally make it down to the car, where Dave is waiting to drive us, it’s already eleven thirty pm and we’re all well on our way to being legless.
The club is a warehouse conversion, pretty much like every other building in and around East London but it looks great, the sound system is pumping and the girls are desperate to dance. I did a pregnancy test this morning, just to make sure and as it was negative, I joined my girls in a couple of lines of coke before we left and I’m now feeling the effect and can’t wait to hit the dance floor. The place is full of celebrities, actors, models, footballers, pop stars and the usual bunch of glamour models that always seem to get invites to this type of thing. The waiters and waitresses come around with an endless supply of champagne and there’s a free bar for anything else. While the girls are still on the dance floor, I head to the toilets and on the way back decide to grab us a round of shots. I stand at the bar waiting to be served when a shiver goes through me, before I get the chance to wonder what could have caused it a deep voice says right into my ear.
“Good evening Kitten, hope you’re well?”
My stomach hits the floor for a few seconds but then my cocaine enhanced confidence finds its voice and without even looking at him I say, “Tiger, how the fuck are you?”
“Really Kitten, that’s so unladylike.”
“Tiger, I think we established many years ago, that I’m no fucking lady.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds, in which time I finally turn my gaze to him, he looks afuckinmazing, he’s wearing a black suit with satin lapels, a black shirt and a black satin tie. He’s standing so close that I can smell him, he smells delicious, still wearing the same Givenchy aftershave that he always has, it instantly reminds me of my bed at my flat above the shop, and all the things he did to me in it.
“You look beautiful Georgia, absolutely stunning.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself Tiger, how ya doing? You look a whole lot better than the last time I saw you, that’s for sure.” I want to reach out and touch his face, run my hands over the beard he has growing there, it really suits him. “I love the beard.”
He ignores my beard comment. “I owe you an apology and a thank you, regarding the last time you saw me.”
I shrug and knock back the first of the three shots that have been placed in front of me. “No apology necessary, no thanks required, you would have done the same for me.”
He nods his head slightly, in a way I remember so well. “I would and more, I would’ve done so much more for you, given the chance.”
“Don’t Cam, I’m so sorry the way things turned out, the way you found out, please don’t make me feel worse than I’ve done all these years.”
He puffs his cheeks and blows out a long breath; I feel it over the side of my neck and know in an instant my nipples are painfully erect. I need to get away from him, but before I can, he pulls me into his side; I look up at him, about to ask what the fuck he’s doing when a camera flashes in my face.
“Cam what the fuck are you playing at?” I don’t wait for his answer, I just turn and head back over to where I left the girls dancing, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waitress as I go. I’ve drunk it all down by the time I reach the dance floor, and I spend the next hour knocking back more champagne and dancing.
While I dance my mind drifts and I think about the life Sean and I have lead over the past ten years. We’ve been so lucky, we are lucky to have found our way back to each other; we’re happy, content and still so in love. I hate being apart from him for any length of time; especially when he travels overseas and I don’t go with him. Mobile phones have made things easier, but despite talking to him sometimes five times a day, I still miss him. That’s why usually I go with him, but I just didn’t fancy the flight this weekend and he will only be away for one night. It’s a small sacrifice for the lifestyle the band’s success has given us, not just the money and all the materialistic things it can buy but the doors it opens for you, the places we have been able to visit, and the people we have met. We’ve been to award ceremonies and sat at a table with Jagger and Richards, we’ve been to film premiers and been in the same room as De Niro. I had slow danced with the British Prime Minister at a charity event and then spent an hour talking about music to Nelson Mandela, who had the spark and wit of a thirteen year old boy and who to this day, remains my ultimate human being. Sean and I have appeared on magazine covers both together and apart, we’ve been interviewed about our lives and there has even been rumours that we’ll soon be approached to not only write our autobiographies but to contribute to a film that’s apparently going to be made, loosely based on our lives. Why people are so interested in me, I have no idea. Sean I can understand, but I’m just his Wife. I’ve done some work over the last ten years, mainly for various charities, but other than that, I’ve just been at Sean’s side and I have loved every minute, I don’t need more.
Despite all of these great and wonderful things, its nights like tonight that I’ve really missed, just a plain old simple night out with the girls, as plain and simple as it can be when the wives of one of the world’s biggest bands embark on a night out. Dave drove us here and is lingering at the bar, just to make sure we are okay. He has just come over and advised us that as a lot of the celebs are now leaving, the doors will be opened up to the general public and perhaps it would be best if we went upstairs to the VIP area, where we won’t be harassed. The weird thing is, I still consider myself part of the general public, I still get tongue tied when I speak to one of my idols, I nearly wet myself when I met Weller for the first time. Sean and Marley have a picture of me staring at him in wonder as he speaks to Lennon about something or another, I can’t remember. I’ve never fancied the bloke, it’s just that his music is something that I grew up listening to and I’ve always thought that he remains to this day, one of the greatest song writers England has ever produced.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts by a camera going off in my face.
“Fuck this,” Ashley says. “Dave’s right, let’s go upstairs.”
I gesture to Dave that we are going to the VIP lounge and the three of us hold hands as Jimmie leads the way; we were given wristbands when we first entered the club so just walk straight into the floor to ceiling glassed off area. I spot Cam at the bar straight away and groan inwardly; I haven’t seen him once since the day I tried to help him, no contact whatsoever and yet he still has an effect on my body and I don’t know why. I love my Husband, I’m in love with my Husband and I hate myself for having this reaction to another man. I have thought about him over the years; Bailey told me that he rang my Dad the morning after he ran into Sean and me at Kings and sold him his share immediately. Further down the track he’d told me that he had bumped into him and Cam had asked how I was doing and if I was happy. That information made my heart beat faster too at the time and now here he was, tall and handsome, leaning against the bar talking to a tall red head who I think was an actress or a television presenter, I’d seen her face somewhere before anyways.
