Page 34 of I Would Die for You

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude—” she starts, stopping dead when she turns to face him.

His grimace seems to preempt her reaction, as if he’s apologizing for the assumptions she’s about to make. He has no idea.

“You?” she cries, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“OK, can we skip the part where you think you might know me, and throw any preconceived ideas you may have in the bin?”

Nicole goes to tell him that shedoesknow him, that she’s greeted by his face every time she goes into Cassie’s bedroom, but that’s more than she’d care to admit.

“That was a really beautiful song,” he says.

She shrugs her shoulders, as if what he thinks means nothing to her, but she can’t help but feel flattered. He may well be the latest teen-idol offering on the hit factory conveyor belt, but he’s still the lead singer of the biggest band in the country right now.

“I guess it’s about your mum?”

His recognition of the woman behind the melody takes Nicole by surprise and makes her feel suddenly vulnerable. But then, sharing your innermost thoughts with a roomful of strangers has a habit of doing that.

“Like you listened to the words…” she says, her need to let him off the hook before he embarrasses both himself, and her, ever present—at least when it comes to her songwriting.

“If you ever loved someone as much as I love you, you’d know there is nothing I wouldn’t do…”His a capella voice flows like liquid gold, rendering Nicole speechless and inexplicably close to tears.

“Is that you talking to your mum or her talking to you?” he asks.

“I-I…” she stutters, struggling to regain her composure. “I’d always imagined it was a conversation between us…”

“I bet she sings her lines even louder than you sing yours,” he says, his eyes seemingly burrowing deep into her soul.

“Well, thanks for the feedback,” she says, reaching behind the bar to grab her bag, if only to distract herself from the pull at the back of her throat.

“Have you ever thought about recording it?” he asks solemnly.

She laughs, likereallylaughs, while he stands there with a questioning expression, waiting for her to finish. “Look,” she says eventually, “while you may think that every musician has access to a recording studio, I’m afraid most of us will never get to see the inside of one.”

“I might be able to help you with that,” he says, sounding surprisingly sincere.

“Does this chat-up line usually work?” asks Nicole, with wry amusement.

“When the offer of a drink is refused, then yes,” he says, his eyes smiling.

“And when the promise to make me a starstillfalls short?” says Nicole, raising her eyebrows playfully.

“Well, then I’d have to cut my losses and ask that if it doesn’t work out for you over the next twenty years, that you meet me in Los Angeles in 2006.”

Nicole laughs out loud. “Why Los Angeles?” she asks.

“Because that’s where I intend to hang up my boots,” he says, looking at her as if he means it.

“Well, until then,” she says, turning to walk out.

“Wait!” he says, putting out a hand to grab hold of her arm. “Will you please just think about it? You can’t be happy singing in here every night for the rest of your life.”

She goes to tell him he’s wrong, but only a fool would do that.

“Take my card,” he says, rummaging around in the pocket of his chained cargo pants. “And if you change your mind, give me a call.”

Nicole absently takes it, as if it means nothing, but it feels like it’s burning a hole in the palm of her hand.

Despite her protestations, Ben accompanies her out of the club and onto the street. “Hey, Larry,” she says to the disheveled man who’s getting ready to move into the sheltered doorway. He manages a toothy grin as he pulls the shopping trolley that contains his entire existence closer to him.

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