You can really taste the shrimp flavouring that way. Here. Try some. There’s too much here for me.’
I knew this was a lie. Not about the shrimp flavouring. That there was too much food for Dee. I’d known her eat a can of eight hot dogs, plus buns, in one sitting and still have room for dessert.
‘I’m too lovesick to eat,’ I told her.
‘I can’t believe my sister slept with Michael Reyji Ray.’ Dee sat on my bed, and it squeaked under her weight. ‘You actually had sex with a real live famous person.’
‘I know. It was amazing.’
‘You were careful, right? You know what the hospital said about infections.’
‘It’s fine. I’m telling you, Dee, this was meant to be.’
Dee placed her noodles on the floor. ‘Sounds like a dirty old man slept with a teenage fan to me. But it’s happened. Can you cross him off your list now?’
‘My list said marry Michael Reyji Ray,’ I said. ‘I haven’t married him yet.’
Dee laughed. ‘You’re too late. He married his childhood sweetheart already. Even I know that, and I can’t stand his pretentious Pink Floyd rip-off music.’
‘Don’t remind me. I thought he and his wife must have split up or something. But they haven’t. He asked me to come on tour with him. But … he said I’d have to stay a secret from his wife.’
‘Ugh. How gross. Was he into weird rock-star shit?’
‘No. He was nice. Good.’
‘Maybe you should sell your story. Teach him a lesson for cheating on his wife.’
‘Come on. I’d never do that.’
‘You look weird,’ Dee decided. ‘Your eyes are all glazed.’
‘I told you. I’ve really fallen for him. I keep thinking about the tour invitation.’
‘Oh, no. Do not be a teenage idiot who runs off on tour with an old, married rock star.’
I gave a romantic sigh. ‘It feels like I just passed up destiny.’
‘Hey – Pretty Woman’s on in half an hour. If you want fantasy land, why don’t you watch that with me?’
‘I just want to be alone.’
‘And no noodles?’
‘No thanks.’
Dee left me then, taking her noodles with her and eating as she walked.
I lit two lavender tea lights, watching them burn and flicker on my dressing table.
Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on the breath.
It was sunset outside, all pink and purple and grey. The city winked and glimmered, dusty and brown.
Breathe in, breathe out. Focus.
Breathe in, breathe out and Michael, Michael, Michael.
We were soul mates. He was the reason I’d been kept alive. I’d just walked away from my destiny.
As I tried to clear my mind and find answers, there was a ‘bang, bang, bang’ on my door.
‘Lorna?’ Dee’s voice sailed through the cardboardy wood.
‘I’m meditating,’ I called back.
‘Um … I think you might want to stop for a minute.’ Dee opened the bedroom door and peered around it. ‘There’s someone here to see you.’
I untwisted my legs. ‘Who?’ I asked.
‘You’re not going to believe this.’
‘What?’
‘It’s Michael Reyji Ray.’
‘You’re kidding me.’ My heart began to pound. ‘No way. If this is a joke … this is a joke, isn’t it? I didn’t tell him where I lived.’
‘His driver took you home, right?’ said Dee.
‘Michael’s here? He’s really here?’ The words were almost a squeal.
‘He’s really here. But Lorna, don’t go doing anything silly now.’
‘I … hang on.’ I checked my reflection in the mirror, pulling fingers through my hair to give it more volume, then drew on the same kohl eyes I’d worn last night.
‘Lorna.’ Dee stepped into the bedroom and closed the door. ‘If he asks you to go on tour, you won’t go, will you?’
My hand hesitated as I drew on kohl. ‘Of course not. I’m not running off and leaving you alone.’
‘Be careful. I don’t have a good feeling about this.’
‘You know, he said he and his wife are sort of separated. Good friends, nothing more.’
‘Isn’t that what they all say? You’re not yourself. You’ve got like … crazy cult-victim eyes.’
‘We had this amazing connection. We both felt it, I swear to you.’
A seed of denial lies in all of us. Michael was just a gardener. I know that now.
I checked my reflection in the mirror again and threw on the denim jacket with Michael’s picture on it.
Okay, okay.
Breathe.
The front door was slightly ajar. Michael’s low voice came through the gap: ‘Is my punk princess in there?’
Oh my God, oh my God. It really was him. He was here at my apartment.
I ripped open the door, heart pounding, legs weak. And there he was: Michael Reyji Ray on my doorstep.
Michael wore black jeans and a black T-shirt. His hair was dazzling white-blond and his eyes still shone with dark, mesmerizing light.
I started to giggle then and couldn’t stop.
Michael managed a smile. ‘Something funny?’
‘It’s weird,’ I said. ‘Seeing you here outside my apartment, Michael Reyji Ray. In all your rock and roll gear.’
‘Danny told me where you lived,’ said Michael. ‘I couldn’t leave without you. You’ve got in my head. And my heart. The tour bus is ready to go. Come with us. You’ll break me if you say no.’
‘I can’t. I can’t just up and leave my sister.’
‘What is it?’ said Michael. ‘You have bills to pay here? I’ll
