And no, before you ask, I don’t look anything like J-Lo. I wish. Well maybe except for my ass, it’s about as big as hers.
My mum and dad met while he was touring America with The Rifts. My mum was in her first year of university. She’d moved to San Francisco from Puerto Rico to go to university. It was a big thing for her and her family; she was the first to ever go to university.
My dad was doing a gig at her university, and it was love at first sight. They spent the four days that my dad was in San Francisco together.
After my dad left to carry on with the tour they kept in touch. Then six weeks later my mum found out she was pregnant with me.
She was only eighteen at the time, my dad twenty-three, with their whole future in front of them.
Dad went back to San Francisco and they had a choice to make.
They said getting rid of me was never an option for either of them, so one of them had to give something up.
It was either my dad’s music or my mum’s university degree.
Mum gave her degree up.
She told my dad that being a mother was now the only important thing to her, as she’d lost her own mama when she was very young.
She broke the news to her dad, and he went ballistic. He gave her an ultimatum. It was either me and my dad, or her family back home.
She chose us.
He disowned her. Her whole family cut her off.
So she left San Francisco and her dream behind and went on tour with my dad and the band to follow his.
They tried to make it work on the road, but a baby on tour is just not possible, so eventually my dad made the decision to leave the band. They moved back to the England, to Manchester where my dad is from and got married.
For the first two years of my life we all lived with my Gran and Granddad at their house, until mum and dad could afford their own house.
And that was when I moved next door to Jake.
Sometimes I feel like I ruined my dad’s chances of hitting the big time, and took away my mum’s chance of a career. Neither of them have ever made me feel that way, not once, and I know they would be angry if I even think it. But mostly I feel that way about my dad. I just know how much he loves music and how hard it must have been for him to give it up.
I sweep some mascara over my lashes, dust on my gold eye-shadow, it goes best with my brown eyes, and put some pale pink gloss onto my lips. Then I decide on my black maxi dress. I slip my feet into my silver kitten heels, and pick up my chainmail handbag, putting my money and lip gloss in it.
I give myself one last look in the mirror. Not bad, Tru. Not perfect, but not bad.
I meet Simone out in the hall.
“You look gorgeous,” I say. She’s wearing a short, light blue puff ball dress.
She wiggles her hips. “Right back at ya, sexy.”
“And you call me a dork.” I shake my head, laughing at her. “You got your keys?”
She dangles them in the air.
“Right lets go then.”
Simone locks up and we walk out into the night air, heading for our local haunt, and most awesome cocktail bar, Mandarin’s.
It’s surprisingly packed for a Thursday night. We get a pitcher of margarita’s and grab a free table.
I pour drinks into both our glasses.
Lifting mine, I say, “To my gorgeous and very smart friend, may you run the company one day.”
Giggling, she chinks my glass.
I take a sip of my margarita. The alcohol runs down my throat, just the soother I needed.
“So how are things at the magazine?” Simone asks.
I snort out a laugh.
Okay, here goes …
“I’m um … interviewing Jake Wethers tomorrow.”
Her mouth opens in surprise, forming an ‘O’.
“Yep. Exactly.” I nod.
Then she screams, attracting us quite a few stares.
“Sorry,” she says embarrassed.
I’m already laughing at her.
“Okay,” she says calming down, fanning her face, “Any particular reason you’re only just telling me this now?”
“Your promotion. We’re celebrating that tonight. I didn’t want talk of Jake overrunning it.”
“Um…” She gives me a stupid look. “I’d rather be overrun by Jake Wethers than my promotion any day.” She flashes her eyes at me.
I roll mine.
“So how did the interview come about? I’m guessing you didn’t set it up.”
“Vicky did.”
“How in the hell did she manage to land an interview with Jake? Did she use your name to get it?”
Her words flitter through my mind.
I shake my head. “She wouldn’t tell me how, but no, I don’t think so. Using my name wouldn’t have gotten her an interview with Jake anyway.”
Simone pulls the face she always pulls whenever the subject of Jake comes up and I imply he has no care for me nowadays.
Not that I talk about him regularly or anything.
“I bet he’s gonna be so made up to see you. Does he know it’ll be you doing the interview?”
Does he?
“I’m not sure,” I shrug. “His people will have my name, but I highly doubt he’ll be bothered about who’s interviewing him … and he won’t be made up, Simone, we haven’t seen each other for twelve years. He’ll have forgotten all about me.”
“Yeah, sure he will,” she says taking another drink of her cocktail. “Because you always forget your first love.”
“I wasn’t his first love!” I exclaim.