Page 1 of Musical Games
1
‘Oy!’
Sam stopped dead, her heart pounding. The shout was aimed at her.
‘You slag!’
Striding towards her, heels click-clacking and fury crackling, was Lorraine.
Sam’s feet stayed glued to the pavement. She clutched her handbag to her chest as if for protection.She knew.
Lorraine was a storm of anger and pain. ‘You could’ve had anyone,’ she screamed. ‘But you had to steal my Wayne! How could you?’
Sam swallowed her panic. She tossed her hair and cocked her hip. ‘Well, who would blame him when you won’t give him what he needs?’
There was a beat, then Lorraine launched herself forward like a heat-seeking missile carrying a payload of rabid cats.
‘You cow!’ she screeched, her manicured nails locking onto Sam’s face.
Sam dropped her bag and caught Lorraine’s wrists just before impact. The women tumbled to the ground.
Lorraine straddled her on the dirty pavement, yanking a hand free and grabbing a fistful of hair. Sam tugged at her fingers, trying to break the grip. Lorraine was snarling, her bared teeth an inch away, spittle raining onto Sam’s cheeks.Why isn’t anyone helping?One of Lorraine’s dangly earrings caught in her hair and a sharp pain tore across her scalp.
‘Agh! Loz, stop!’
Lorraine went still. ‘You okay?’
‘Your bloody earring’s just ripped half my hair out.’
‘Fuck, love. Sorry, hang on.’
‘Cut!’ a voice rang out. ‘Shelley, can you give them a hand?’
In Sam’s peripheral vision another pair of hands reached into the bird’s nest of her hair where Lorraine’s earring was snagged.
‘Hold still, ladies, while I sort out this wardrobe malfunction.’
‘Cheers, Shelley,’ said Sam. ‘At least my boob didn’t pop out.’
‘If this show went out after the kiddies had gone to bed, I’d bet they’d write that scene in,’ Lorraine giggled.
Sam jiggled her breasts towards her friend. ‘Too right. These puppies have power. You’ve seen them, haven’t you, Shelley? They’re mag-nif-i-cent.’
Shelley shook her head. ‘Yes, darling, your boobs could awaken the dead. Now, hold still. Don’t make me get my scissors out.’
An hour later,Sam had been surgically removed from Lorraine without lasting damage and was in a taxi heading into central London. The driver was a regular for the production and Sam was grateful. She wouldn’t have to answer endless questions about Bethany, the character she played on the long-running soap, or deflect questions about future storylines. Kicking off her vertiginous heels, she put in her ear buds and scrolled through the video library on her phone.
Three months ago her best friend, Zoe, had moved from London to the wilds of Scotland. Sam missed her terribly and had hoped she would come back. However, once Zoe had fallen in love with Rory, the Earl of Kinloch, it was clear her heart and soul were now in the Highlands.
Zoe had sent her a video of Jamie, her childhood friend from Kinloch, playing guitar and singing a love song he’d written. Sam refused to mark the videos, or any of the pictures of Jamie she’d saved, as favourites. That would be an admission of interest. There was no way she was interested in someone three years younger than her, who still lived with his mum, hundreds of miles away in the arse end of nowhere.
It was unfortunate, however, that Jamie happened to possess a certain level of physical attractiveness. He had deep brown eyes framed by long dark lashes, thick dark brown hair that looked as if it had just been ruffled out of place by an affectionate aunt and a shy smile that pierced through the phone screen straight to her heart. As he hunched over his guitar, she could tell he was tall. She stared at his thick corded forearms, his long fingers plucking at the strings. His big, gentle,cleverhands. Heat rose in her cheeks.Forget about his hands!
She’d watched the video hundreds of times, but each time her viewing followed the same script: stare at him as he chatted to Zoe and imagine he was talking to her. Look at his fingers as he started to play. Feel too hot. Close her eyes. Jump as he started to sing. Feel unwarranted emotions swirling inside her. Open her eyes and keep staring. Sing along with him in her mind.
‘That’s nice, love, what is it?’
She met the cab driver’s gaze in the rear-view mirror with a start and fumbled to shut off her phone.
