Elly blinked rapidly. Had she misheard him? She managed to utter, “Um, what?”
Isaac raised his arms to the ceiling, as if embracing the universe with his awesomeness. “I can’t go on the stage unless you love me. Your love is all I need. If I have that, then I’m GOLDEN, and nothing I do will matter, because I have the love of a perfect woman!” His voice boomed through the crowd, and they twittered around him with excitement. Every woman in the room swooned while at the same time questioning why this gorgeous guitar player was obviously head over heels for this moderately attractive woman. Elly wanted to die. She wondered if Isaac would notice her crawling under the table. Oh Lord, she pleaded silently, let this not get any worse.
Then he knelt in front of her. “Tell me that you love me, and there is no feat that could ever weather this heartsick musician.”
Elly heard sighs echo all around her. Oh god, oh no, WHAT is he doing?
Elly felt the spotlight hot on her body, the wine rushing through her veins, and the eyes of everyone in the club upon her face. Isaac was on the ground in front of her, a gorgeous Adonis of a man, dazzling and resplendent with his guitar strapped across his back. Just do it, Elly thought. Screw Aaron. Screw Lucia. I’ll be happy with Isaac.
“I…” the crowd hushed. “I…I love you. Yes, I love you.”
Isaac threw his arms up to the ceiling. “SHE LOVES ME!!!” The crowd erupted in drunken cheers. Isaac kissed Elly hard on the mouth and dashed back down to the stage, taking the stairs two at a time. He got to the stage, whipped his guitar around and palmed the mike. “This first song is called Curves of a Woman and it’s inspired by that woman, my muse, my all.”
With that, Everest Oppressed launched into their first number with gusto, drums blazing and Gene moaning into the microphone. Elly put her head onto the table, trying to drown in the tsunami of guilt washing over her. What had she done? What was he thinking? What…WAIT. What were they SINGING about?
Gene mouthed the microphone so close it appeared they were intimate. His raspy voice was clipped and nasal. “And when she wakes, she knows, she knows who she is…She is softness and light and her curves are of the earth…Elly…”
Elly’s head jerked off the table. Did they just say Elly?
Gene moved aside and Isaac walked to the microphone. He pointed at Elly. “OH…ELLY… Elly….your supple flesh under my thumbs, your breath on my face. You are my February sky, my sensual croissant…the world is burning, but your flower is opening to me.”
Several seated in front of Elly turned to look at her. Elly felt her face burning. Could this night be any more embarrassing? Then Isaac ripped his shirt in half. Women screamed. The crowd seemed intoxicated by his voice, his presence. He was now swaying back and forth, strumming his guitar, sweat glistening down his ripped chest. He was the embodiment of sublime sexuality, and any minute now Elly wagered that panties would be thrown on the stage. They would NOT be hers.
A tiny waif of a girl spun around to face Elly. “OH my GOD, are you his girlfriend? You are SO lucky!”
Elly nodded, feeling pride, humiliation and confusion all at once. She was lucky. She did adore him. Their band might suck, but Isaac was a good catch. He was beautiful, charismatic and fun. He made her feel worthy. But she couldn’t quench the nagging doubts that had arrived with yesterday’s news. That evening, in a dimly lit club, somewhere in the middle of the Central West End, a mortified woman wondered how one man from her past could ruin every single thing in her life.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Elly sliced granny smith apples into thin pieces, and layered them on a cutting board, squeezing a lemon over them. She turned to the caramel that was simmering on the stove, testing it with her spoon and then pouring it into an empty pie shell. On top of that, she latticed the apples, streusel and pastry dough. Taking a whipped egg, she basted the top of the pie, finishing it off with large crystals of raw sugar.
She popped it into the oven, exclaiming to Cadbury, “Well…maybe that will kill me, then we won’t have to worry about a thing, will we?”
Cadbury yawned at her.
“Yeah, I guess it couldn’t be that easy.”