Midnight Blue
“Anything essential is invisible to the eye.”
My eyes shot up. I’d recognize those words anywhere. “The Little Prince .”
“Have you read it?” Indie asked.
I snorted. “You can say that again.”
She squeezed the tip of my boot, her eyes probing. Was I really going to share this with her? Whatever. Why the fuck not.
“My family was the furthest thing from bookworms. I don’t think we had one book in our house, save for the Bible. We were skint as hell. But my dad had a brother, George, who lived in Notting Hill. Made his money composing songs for kids’ shows. It was my dream to go live with him, but George was a womanizer, and a terrible drunk, and even though he loved me, he certainly didn’t love me enough to give up on his precious vices. When I was eight or nine, George gave me a rare birthday gift. A hard copy of The Little Prince . He said to look for the meaning of the book, and once I found it, he’d buy me my first guitar. He said that no musician deserves as much as a pinch of success before they truly understand the meaning of life, and that he’d know if I cheated and asked, and anyway, I didn’t want to. I wanted to earn that fucking guitar. Wanted her to come to me justly and deservingly. For the next couple years, I was consumed by this book. Every year I saw him at Christmas, I tried my luck, decoding the meaning of this goddamn book. All I got was nonsense about some little twat asking people to paint him a sheep. Until, two years after he gave me the book—now worn and old and stained with mustard and milk—it dawned on me. All true meanings are hidden. Life is full of secrets, and narrow-minded people, and sugar-coated, empty conversations that hold no weight. What’s real is what’s inside us. What’s important is what we feel. That day I rang him, and he picked me up from Watford, even though I could’ve taken the train. That day, I got Tania. That day changed my life.”
I squeezed the length of my acoustic guitar. I’d stopped playing Tania at unplugged gigs years ago, but I still carried her everywhere—you don’t throw away your gran because she gets too old to bake your favorite pie. Tania was, after all, my first and only genuine friend. Indie caressed the fabric of her work in progress in circles, nodding.
“I always loved The Little Prince because it always felt like I, too, belong on another planet. Like I can barely even survive the world I live in and don’t necessarily understand why things are the way they are,” Indie licked her lips.
She tucked her chin to her chest, her eyelashes floating on her cheeks. I stared. Gulped. Averted my gaze. Fuck. She was beautiful. It was hard to believe she was the same girl from the Chateau Marmont. The one I’d looked at and seen a strange lass with a funny dress, weird hair, and a too-freckled face.
I looked down at my notepad and started writing.
Can you keep a secret?
Sometimes I look at you and all I see is regret
My little passion pit is out of this world
Dictates my every lyric and note and word
I do all the things I want to do to you in the dark
But time knows and sees and notices every mark
And sometimes I want you
But most times I don’t
I should leave you alone, but we both know I won’t.
I realized I was running out of paper, but the words kept on gushing out. They rushed in a stream, and I needed to capture them as they were. Desolate. Feral. Un-fucking-hinged. I grabbed Indie’s hand and pulled her into my body. She stumbled across the tight space between us right onto my lap, her mouth falling open. I didn’t care. It wasn’t about sex. It was art, and art was divine—it overruled everything. And this wasn’t even my bullshitter speaking. I actually believed that.
“I need you to take your dress off.” I tugged at the thick fabric of her frilly number.
Her eyes widened, and she jerked away. Oh, how I wished she were one of my groupies in that moment. But if she were, we wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be feeding off of her memories, and stories, and reveries. That was the thing about Stardust. She stood toe-to-toe with me, even though I was taller, stronger, richer. She made me feel…real.
“Here? Jesus H, please don’t tell me you’re drunk.” She looked around the hallway, checking that it was empty.
I gripped the hem of her dress and dragged her toward me, my eyes roaming, looking for the buttons or zipper or whatever to get her out of her dress.
“I need to write on something and my notepad is full. No one will see you. The lads are fast asleep, and Alfie’s girls only just arrived. Even that dickhead can keep them busy for at least twenty minutes. The whole floor is reserved for us. It’s just you and me, Stardust. I need your back.”
And your words.
And that song that kept playing in my head.
I’m the king with no subjects
The vain man with no crowd
The drunk twat who’s always so fucking loud
And you’re the rivers and mountains
Maybe even the oxygen itself
You’re the wind that carries me from place to place
The only high I always chase
“No.”
Inside, I screamed my frustration, but on the outside, I just looked at her with mild disinterest.
“No?”
“Just write on my arms. Better yet—on yours. They’re thicker.”
“Not enough space, and I need to break it into paragraphs.”
“No.”
“Why?” My eyelids were twitching. I was pretty sure that wasn’t a good sign.
“Because you slept with someone else yesterday.” She looked surprised at my even asking.
I licked my lips slowly before opening them, enjoying the way her gaze clung to them. “I didn’t sleep with Gina.”
“Huh?”
“Never intended to, either. I kissed her, right. But only to piss you off, and honestly, I don’t remember what she tasted like, just your reaction to it, which made my cock really fucking happy. The only person I want to fuck right now is you. The second I heard you across the hall banging your head against the door, I threw her in Alfie’s room and went into the bathroom for a quick wank. But don’t feel sorry for our little friend Gina. Alfie gave her what she needed and then some. I meant what I said, Stardust. I want to screw the words out of you. Just you. Until the end of this tour, it’s only you and me.”