Page 30 of Love on the Main Stage
I shook my head. “The more I hear you come, the more amenable I am to it,skatt.”
“Don’t call me pet names,” Betty groaned.
I ran my hand through her ginger curls. “Why?”
“Because I like it and I cannot stay.”
“Is it really this important?”
“Yeah. It really is,” she said. “This is my job. I have to… it’s hard to explain. My cousin was our star player, but then she had to retired and now… well, I gotta be the star even if my talents really pale?—”
“I am sure your talents do not.”
“Have you ever ridden a horse before?”
“Yes!”
One eyebrow raised, she judged me.
“Okay, look, it was at a carnival, but?—”
“Doesn’t count. I think it’s sweet you want to blow smoke but… it really is stressful. I’m used to being the scrappy supporter and now I gotta carry the whole team.”
Somehow, I related. It didn’t occur to me anyone else had experienced the spotlight after years of happily supporting the brightest stars in their industry. Moreover, I couldn’t imagine anyone as assertive and bold as Betty being satisfied as a background player. It suited me, but for someone vivacious like her, I assumed it was stifling.
Her phone buzzed. “Just up the street. Ugh.”
“That fast?” I gasped.
“They’re all over the city. They send whoever is closest.Look, are you around Monday? I’m super busy ’til then but... I want to see you again.”
“I am headed to Stockholm,” I winced. “There’s not a chance you will just be there?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Okay, well, when you’re back in the States, text me. I’m going to end up there soon.”
“It’s massive,” she said.
“Then, let me spend some of my signing money to fly you to me,” I said. “I mean it.”
A smile curled around her lips. “Ugh. I hate the way you sweet talk me. But sure, why the fuck not? The only people who fly me anywhere are people I’m related to and because they need something. I’d welcome the change.”
Her mobile buzzed once more. She looked down, then back. Pained, she leaned to kiss me one last time.
“Fuck, that was amazing. I’m sorry to be a bitch and dash off,” Betty said. “But it really was great.”
I kissed her back. “Yeah. It lived up to the hype. Text me. I mean it.”
“Okay,” she blushed. “I will.”
I watched her leave. Outside, I visualized her slipping on her shoes and pulling on her jacket. I thought about how she might tuck her wild hair behind her ear as she pulled back, making herself presentable. I heard the door close. She was gone. My heart sank as I worried she might never return.
I waited a few beats to lick my wounds and soak up the smell of her perfume on my pillow before googling the address. My curiosity still won out.
Apartment 1A. Kensington Gardens.
The only results for the address were announcements about the Duke and Duchess of Inverness moving into a flat in Kensington Palace just before they wed years before. I couldn’t understand it.
