Always Us by Lizzie Morton
Eight
Abby
I’m having a major pinch me moment as I walk around the streets of Barcelona. Sometimes I have to stop and question, is this really my life? I live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, have amazing friends and family (albeit weird), and I get paid to travel doing the thing I love the most: take photographs. It might have its ups and downs, but for all I bitch and moan about some of the situations I wind up in the middle of, I’ve got it good, and I know it.
After the disaster that was our last night in Nuremberg, we’ve avoided the band and it’s been a couple of days since we’ve seen them. Not one hundred percent professional, but we all needed the space after some of the things that were said, and technically we don’t have any work commitments until tomorrow. We will also get to finally meet the rest of the PR team who were delayed in New York when the band were and have only just been able to get a flight out.
Tomorrow’s a big day and we’ve decided to lie low, avoiding anything alcohol-related that could prevent us being on top form. We might be in one of the most exciting, infectious cities there is, but even Sophie and Zoe know their limits and voted it was a good idea to play it cool for the night and chill in their room.
Despite being tired, the last thing I wanted to do was sit in the hotel room dwelling on what’s happened so far, so I opted to take some time alone and reassess, leaving the others to rest. I’ve spent the past couple of hours walking around with my camera, exploring the beauty of Barcelona and trying to avoid thinking about anything to do with Jake.
The sun begins to set and there’s a buzz in my veins which can only be tamed by the click of my camera. I should probably head back to the hotel and get some rest, but I just don’t want to. I stop randomly, realizing I’m not one hundred percent sure where I’ve wandered to. Thank God for Google Maps which hasn’t failed me yet. Opening it, I try to find somewhere interesting to go, and see that I’m close to an area called LasRamblas. I haven’t got a clue what it is, but I’ve heard snippets of other tourists’ conversations and it’s been mentioned a few times.
When I get there, I’m not disappointed and I’m thankful I didn’t decide to head back to the room. It’s a boulevard that runs through the center of the city, lined with lush green trees. It’s full of street performers, market stalls and delicious looking eateries that fill the air with incredible smells. The place feels alive, as tourists bombard the area, taking in the surroundings. The atmosphere is infectious, and I take photographs of everything and everyone around me that captures my interest.
Eventually, the smells reaching my nose prove too much and my stomach grumbles loudly. I acknowledge it, allowing myself to come back down to earth, realizing that night has fallen, and I’ve been out longer than I thought. A quick glance at the time on my cell confirms it’s after nine, so I’ve been gone for over five hours. I see there are a few messages from Sooz checking I’m ok, but that was a couple of hours ago. How I didn’t notice my cell vibrating is beyond me, so I quickly shoot a message back, letting her know I’m fine as she must be getting worried.
With the new task of finding food, I’m overwhelmed by choice as there are cafes, restaurants and small pop-up food stalls everywhere. The heat of the day has been intense and even though I’m starving, the thought of a proper meal doesn’t appeal. What does, is ice cream, especially when my eyes are drawn to the bright signs of an ice cream parlor ahead. As I approach, the smell of freshly made waffle cones, mixed with the sweet vanilla scent of homemade ice cream has my mouth watering.
The parlor itself is not what you would typically expect. The walls are covered in black and white photos of bands and rock music blares out into the street. It ticks all the boxes and is incredibly cool. The thought that Jake would love it here enters my mind, but I try to push it away, determined not to let him ruin what has been a perfect evening. I stay in the moment, stepping in and relishing the coolness on my skin from the air conditioning.
There is a huge ice cream display with so many flavors the choice is overwhelming, especially now my stomach has decided to crank its level of hunger up a notch. I spend a few minutes trying to decide and a Spanish girl behind the counter asks what I’d like, chuckling when I ask for some more time.
A friendly male voice with an English accent, startles me from my concentration. “Need a hand?”
Glancing to my side, I take in the tall guy standing next to me, wearing black jeans, a band t-shirt, and vans. He’s just my type and has thick brown hair, styled long on top. His jawline is covered in stubble, adding to his sexy, rugged appearance. The thing that captures my attention the most are his crystal blue eyes. They’re breathtaking, bluer than the sky, and when he smiles, they twinkle with amusement, drawing me in.
There’s a flutter in my stomach as I stare back into them, it’s as if something is awakening inside me. It’s been a long time since anyone has stirred a reaction from me in this way and it’s exciting, however, I can’t help feeling like I know him from somewhere but can’t put my finger on where.
It doesn’t matter for now, so I offer him a small smile and reply, “There’s too many choices and I’m too hungry.”
“My Mum told me never to shop for food on an empty stomach.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Does this count as shopping?”
“Possibly … I’m not sure. Maybe I’ve just made an idiot of myself. I’m Dan.” He offers his hand to shake and the smile that accompanies his gesture sets the awakening butterflies in my stomach into full force.
I offer my hand back. “Abby.”
“Do you want some recommendations?” He nods towards the display, reminding me I came in here for a reason and he had offered to help decide.
“Are you a regular?”
“It’s one of my favorite places to come to when I’m in the city.”
“Ah, you come to Barcelona often?” I’m surprised as he doesn’t strike me as the travelling type. Internally I curse at myself for doing the sort of thing Zoe does, judging him by his image.
“Sometimes for work I do.” He’s being vague and I can’t decide if it’s on purpose.
“Right …” I only met the guy a couple of minutes ago and decide it’s far too early to pry, so decide to move the conversation back to the reason I’m here. “What would you recommend then?”
“The chocolate,” he replies without any hesitation.
“Out of all these flavors, you recommend that?”
It’s a simple choice, I maybe would have pegged him for something a bit quirkier.
“It’s all about the underdog. When there’s so much choice, sometimes the simple flavors are the best and the ones that get overlooked.”
I widen my eyes at his in-depth reply, not entirely sure whether we’re talking about just ice cream anymore.
“Hmm.”
“You can trust me, Abby. It’s just ice cream.” His eyes bore into mine and I’m almost certain that despite his reassurances, we’re no longer talking about the icy dessert.
The girl behind the counter heads back over, giving Dan a shy and longing look. Watching as she gazes in awe at him, it reinforces the feeling that I know him from somewhere, but I’m too tired and hungry to care. When she eventually looks at me, I point to the chocolate, signaling with my hand for two large cones. Dan’s face lights up when he notices that I’ve taken his advice.
“Seeingas though you’ve bought me an ice cream, would I be wrong to assume you might like to take a stroll with me?” He looks uncertain, but combined with his hard rocker image, it’s endearing.
My brain tells me to walk away, that it’s late and I need to get back to the hotel and get some rest before tomorrow, but there’s something about this guy which is pulling me in. It’s been two years since I’ve felt this sort of draw to anyone, felt any sort of attraction and I can’t say no. My heart is telling me it would be wrong to ignore these feelings and that life is too short. The girls would go mad if I missed an opportunity like this, so I don’t.
We spend the next hour wandering around Las Ramblas. There’s a soft glow of light from the restaurants and bars which, mixed with fairy lights hung around the small market stalls, creates a romantic atmosphere that causes my skin to tingle with excitement. He was also right about the ice cream, it’s so delicious I could have eaten his as well.
We keep the conversation light, but interesting, and find we have a lot in common which is refreshing. We both love music, and he finds my photography career fascinating, especially when I tell him I’m working at the festival tomorrow. He gets excited and lets me know he’ll be there as well. Everything with him seems easy and simple, plus, there’s definitely an attraction between the two of us. I might be out of practice, but I can still read the signs.
As the night draws in to a close, we swap cell numbers and I plan to get in touch with him once I’ve finished working the band’s set. It takes me by surprise when he pulls me in for a friendly hug. Besides, with the guys from the band, I’m not an openly affectionate person when it comes to the opposite sex, but there’s something about this guy that’s breaking down my defenses and we’ve only been together for a couple of hours. Rather than resisting, I find myself nuzzling into his chest breathing in his musky scent which fits him perfectly, trying to memorize it along with this night.
Pulling away, he looks down, lingering a moment longer than would be considered friendly. My instant thought is ‘kiss me’, but reluctantly he steps back and offers a small wave goodbye. His body says one thing, but his eyes look torn, like he’s fighting everything inside himself not to pull me back in and kiss me.
As I watch him turn back to find his friends, I can’t wipe the stupid smile off my face. It carries me all the way back to our hotel room and into bed, where I lay for a while mulling over the magical evening I’ve just had, relishing in the warm fuzzy feelings Dan left coursing through my body.
It’s only when sleep is almost in my grasp that I notice I’ve barely thought about Jake. For once I made a choice and did something without even considering him, and I go to sleep with the hope that maybe this summer might not be so bad after all.
***
The buzz of the night before lasts well into the next morning and Zoe asks at least four times if I was gone so long because I fucked someone. She’s disappointed when I inform her that I spent the majority of the day walking around Barcelona with my camera, although her attention piques when I mention the guy I met towards the end of the night. When I state it was entirely PG, she loses complete interest.
There are a few hours before the guys perform at the festival, but this one is bigger and harder to navigate than the last, so we need to leave early. Luckily, the rest of the PR team who we will be working with on the tour arrived last night, so Sooz and I have extra hands. From now, the hard work begins as the volume of press interviews and scheduled magazine shoots increases dramatically. The tour isn’t just about the music. At each new location there are interviews with local media, magazines, radio stations, etc., to help stir interest in the band all around Europe. Sooz has been coordinating everything with the PR team in New York, which consists of another three women we will be meeting in precisely an hour. That’s if Zoe hurries her ass up.
It would be easy to be fooled into thinking a tame night might help make her more prompt getting ready, alas no and Sooz is spitting feathers. Barcelona isn’t the easiest of places to get around even at the best of times. Throw into the mix that we need to pick up the guys’ outfit changes and we’re running out of time. Eventually, Zoe confirms she’s ready, but just as we’re getting into the cab, remembers she left her bag in the room. Sooz looks like she’s about to blow a fuse and needless to say, Zoe remains quiet for the rest of the ride.
We’re a few minutes away from the back entrance to the festival when it hits me that I don’t know anything about the PR team who will be joining us for the rest of the tour.
I look to Sooz and ask, “Will the PR team be in there already?”
“Yeah,” she replies. “They’re getting everything sorted for us. They agreed they would do all the setting up and help with the sound check if needed, to take some of the pressure off us after Nuremberg.”
“Do you have any idea who they are?”
She shrugs. “Not a clue, but Ange said they’re some of the best in the business and will be great to work with. I guess we’ve got to go with it.” I can tell she’s skeptical about working with people we don’t know, but when it comes down to it, we have no choice.
“Okay.”
There’s something not quite sitting right with me, maybe you could call it a sixth sense. I’ve always trusted my gut and it’s giving off major vibes, telling me I need to be wary. It feels like whatever I’m about to walk into at the festival isn’t going to make me happy. It feels like something is about to go wrong.
“How do you feel about seeing Jake again?” ask Sophie.
“Shit,” is my straight up response.
The thought of seeing him after the last night in Nuremberg fills me with dread. All I want is for this summer to go without a hitch, but that can only happen if we’re both on our best behavior, which is something we both seem to be struggling with. If I thought the tension a couple of years ago was hard, now it’s unbearable.
We don’t have a chance to expand on the conversation, as the cab pulls into the back entrance of the festival. I might have felt like a fish out of water in Nuremberg, but this is next level. It’s bigger than big, meaning the crowds are going to be huge. We already know that some of the bands performing are bigger names than at the last and I spent the morning squealing with Sophie and Zoe over some of the people we might bump into. It feels overwhelming but exciting at the same time and the man candy is going to be something else entirely.
Then there’s the underlying excitement of seeing Dan. It felt like we shared a connection last night and I can’t wait to see him, to see whether this could become something more. But something is niggling away at my brain that just won’t settle. I feel like I already know him, or I’ve seen him somewhere before, I just can’t figure out how it’s possible. He seemed so confident I would see him again, yet judging by the size of this festival, finding each other in the crowds is going to be near impossible. He mentioned something to do with work, so it’s possible he’s part of the stage crew that move around with different tours, which is maybe why I recognize him.
Loaded with clothes and gear for the band, the heat hits us after the luxury of the airconditioned cab. It’s hot and uncomfortable, adding to my anxiety about working this festival. Between the heat and my gut churning its way into overdrive, I feel off kilter.
“You good?” ask Sooz looking concerned.
I can’t hide anything from her, so I don’t bother trying. “Something isn’t sitting right.”
She looks confused. “How so?”
“I feel like something’s about to happen and it isn’t going to be good.”
“It could just be the anxiety over seeing Jake again?” She’s trying to be helpful, but mentioning his name makes the situation worse.
“Maybe you’re right.”
I resign myself to the fact I’m not going to get any answers standing around. After how long the journey took, we don’t have the time to be messing about, which Sooz confirms with her jittery body language.
Managing to fill our arms with all the gear, we slowly make our way to one of the many tents behind the main stage. It’s a much bigger setup than the last performance. Besides the main stage, this has smaller tents and stages where other bands perform besides the headliners. The guys won’t be on the main stage today but judging by the size of the crowds and the level of noise, it won’t make any difference, this is going to be one of their biggest performances of their career.
Luckily Sooz has her head screwed on, directing us to where we’re needed. I wouldn’t have a clue where to go otherwise, but my role is only to support her, and the main work I do is with the camera. It relinquishes me of a lot of responsibility, all I need to do is capture moments.
“I feel like a cart horse,” grumbles Zoe, pulling her hair back with one hand and fanning her face with the other.
“At least you’ve found a real job for the summer,” says Sophie.
She grins and receives a swat to the head in return. Zoe’s influencing career is often the butt of jokes and can be a sensitive subject at times.
It feels like we’ve walked for miles when we make our way into the tent where we’re due to meet with the band. It’s a buzz of activity and my heart begins racing, knowing it’s about to see Jake. I’m nervous after our last encounter. Nervous for what other hurtful words he has to say to me and how we’re going to make this dynamic work, because we need to make it work, for everyone. I can only hope he’s on his best behavior, but if he isn’t, I still wouldn’t blame him after I walked away. Although it’s not like he hasn’t done the same thing to me.
It takes a while to find the band as they blend in well with everyone else, but eventually we spot them in a corner. I see Sam standing on his tiptoes, looking around, and when he clocks us, he waves.
“Over here!”
As we shuffle over, with all their gear in our hands, the group moves position and there are three young women with them, two of which I can see clearly. They fit the typical New York PR image, pampered to perfection. If you ask me, they’d be better suited to a weekend at Coachella than a rock festival. I snicker, then scold myself for being a bitch when I don’t even know them.
Getting closer, the third person becomes visible and my skin prickles as I take in the long blonde hair that cascades perfectly down the girl’s back. I know the silhouette. Of course I do, because I spent my time feeling insecure and jealous around her when I was in Brooklyn two years ago. This summer is turning into one giant round of déjà vu.
“Please, no,” I murmur to myself. Not quietly enough, as Zoe zones in.
“Is that who I think it is?” she says.
“I hope not, or this summer is about to go from crap to utterly shit.”
She stands with me, looking annoyed, meanwhile Sooz and Sophie continue walking towards the group, not noticing that we’ve stopped behind. Sam looks over to where we’re standing back with concern written all over his face. I know in that moment my suspicions are right, especially when the blonde turns around and I recognize each tall, leggy, big breasted part of her.
She shoots us the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, but from the angle where she’s standing only Zoe will notice the face she’s pulled, bitch. Thanks to Sam waving us over, the rest of the group now know we’re there, which means there’s no way I can run back out of the tent.
“Breathe,” says Zoe quietly, knowing that I’m about to fall apart.
“I’m trying. What the fuck is she doing here?” I hiss back.
There’s no time for her to reply, as we’re so close to the group they will be able to hear what’s being said. Unless we want to start World War Three, we need to shut up and smile.
Doing as Zoe says, I take a deep breath in and out, then somehow find the strength inside me to say nicely, “Amanda … Hi. Long time, no see.”
It would be optimistic to think that I might get a welcoming response, but what could I expect after the last summer I was in Brooklyn? Amanda is Jake’s ex-girlfriend. The girlfriend whom at the time when I was in Brooklyn, sadly took the brunt of my reunion with Jake, along with my ex, Michael.
All I get is a seriously hacky look, but then she suddenly remembers where she is and why we’re here. Recovering, she plasters another fake smile on her face, before saying in a sickly-sweet voice, “Abby, hiii.”
She couldn’t sound faker if she tried, but it’s what I deserve after I technically stole her boyfriend. What she doesn’t understand is that he was never hers to have. I shake my head trying to get rid of the ridiculous thoughts running through it. Jake isn’t mine and never has been, the sooner I get my head around that fact, the better.
I focus on the ridiculous scenario that’s been sprung upon us. There is no way this is a coincidence. How can Amanda and I both be on a freaking European tour with our ex-boyfriend who happens to be the same guy? There are coincidences and then there’s this. My eyes find Jake, zoning in on him and I give him a cold look. I’m still pissed at his performance back in Nuremberg.
He looks sheepish, but then Sam leans in and says something in his ear. Whatever it is, Jake’s demeanor changes as he straightens himself up.
He says, “Well look at this. My two favorite girls on one tour, lucky me.”
My mouth drops open and I blink. What the hell? This is not the Jake I know, not the sensitive, considerate guy I fell in love with. This is asshole Jake who doesn’t deserve anyone’s time or effort. My temper rises and my pulse begins ringing in my ears as I take a step forward getting ready to unleash my wrath, but a busty blonde bombshell gets there first.
There’s a resounding slap through the tent and Jake stands dumbfounded, rubbing his cheek where Amanda’s hand made contact just seconds ago. Already it’s bright red and I chuckle to myself, wondering if it will bruise. I remember how satisfying it was the time I hit him myself. Whatever, what he said was an asshole move and he fully deserved it. His talents in angering women haven’t ceased in the couple of years we’ve been apart.
The rest of the group stands with their mouths also hanging open. I feel myself coming out of my bubble of anger thanks to the satisfaction that Amanda’s bitch slap provided. We’ve gained an audience in the tent, which is slightly embarrassing, being that we’re surrounded by some of the biggest names in the rock music industry and here we are hashing out teenage relationship drama.
It’s Sooz who breaks the silence.
She screeches, “What the hell? The photoshoot! You can’t go in looking like that …”
“Seriously man? You weren’t able to hold it together for ten minutes?” asks Sam, slapping him playfully around the head.
“Shut up,” Jake snaps.
His cheeks are flushed, besides the slap mark, and the humiliation of the situation is evident. He would save himself the embarrassment if he learned to filter what came out of his mouth, it’s what keeps getting him in to these predicaments.
“Could you not have waited until the end of the day to do that?” says Sooz with narrowed eyes at Amanda.
From what I remember, back in Brooklyn, Amanda was sweet, and everyone seemed to get along with her. There was the odd occasion where she showed a feistier side, one I think we’re going to witness this summer.
She doesn’t bat an eyelid when she replies, “I’ll act professional, when Jake learns to watch his mouth. I’d happily explain to my bosses why I slapped him and I’m sure they’ll have something to say on the matter.”
Sooz backs down knowing she’s right.
One of the other girls from the New York team steps forward and offers a solution to the problem. “I have my makeup kit with me. Don’t worry, I’ll be able to tone the mark down. In this heat it will just look like he’s hot.”
Letting out a relieved sigh, Sooz says, “Right, let’s get to work. The changing area is in the other tent and we need to hurry. We have interviews and photos to do before you guys are due to go on stage in two hours.”
None of the guys say a word, still too stunned by what happened and how quickly things escalated. They know they’re in trouble and sheepishly move forward following behind Sooz, who has become a woman on a mission, determined to move past what happened and get on with the day. The PR team, including Sophie and Zoe, who have decided they’re officially part of the team, shuffle behind quietly. None of us expected our first meeting to go this way, the only upside being that things can’t get much worse.
“That was fun,” says Zoe loudly, not even trying to hide the sarcasm in her voice.
“It could have gone better,” agrees Sophie.
I try to catch their attention discreetly, attempting to use my face to signal for them to be quiet. Amanda and her team are right in front of us in perfect hearing distance, but the effort is wasted and it’s too little too late.
Amanda spins around quickly, having heard the girls and says, “This summer is not going how I wanted it to and I’m sure you’re as happy to see me as I am you. But let’s make one thing clear. Jake is mine and always has been. We might have to work together, but don’t think I’ve forgotten that you’re a boyfriend stealing whore. If you know what’s good for you, you will back off.”
Spinning back on her heels she sashays through the tent like she owns the place, with her minions smirking evilly behind.
Zoe bursts out laughing.
Sophie looks horrified and asks, “Are you ok?”
“I’m not really sure,” I reply.
The embarrassment of this whole thing is causing tears to brim at the surface yet again. I’ve spent more time almost crying so far on this tour than I have done anything else, and I hate that I’m allowing old, weak Abby from high school to come to the surface and be affected by all of this. I thought I’d left that girl behind. The meek one who let people walk all over her and dictate who she was and how she was feeling. The fact I’ve allowed people to treat me the way they have has shown otherwise.
Anger is bubbling away, and until this point I’ve been a shadow of the person who I’ve worked so hard to become. There is only one person responsible for that and it needs to stop. This all reaffirms why I broke things off with Jake back in Brooklyn, because of the fear we would hold each other back and get in the way of what we wanted to do with our lives. Now, here we are after just a matter of days, tearing apart what we’ve worked hard for in the two years we’ve been separated.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” asks Zoe. “You look like you’re about to explode.”
The reality of the whole situation begins to kick in and I feel like I’m beginning to understand what I need to do and who I want to be in all of this. I feel like I’m beginning to see things clearer.
I reply, “I thought I wasn’t, but I’m going to be fine. I’m tired of letting my life be defined by Jake fucking Ross. His ass is mine.”
