'Electric Contact’ is another song from my fourth album, which I wrote in 2015. ‘Electric Contact’ does exactly what it says on the tin. It’s not exactly a clever metaphor. It really is about having a spark with someone, but more in a lustful way than an ‘I love you’ way.
‘Luc, I hate surprises.’My voice comes out in a whine, and I fight the urge to stamp my foot which would perfectly accompany the childish package I’m serving.
I spent most of the day in tour rehearsals, going over the same dance routine forKind Regardsuntil my brain will be doing the dance every time the song comes on the radio.
Jess arrived an hour ago with a dress ‘perfect for the outing’ from my stylist and helped me to get ready. James and Dina weren’t free, so she did my hair while I did my make-up. It really reminded me of when we would get ready for birthday parties as teenagers. I’m awful at doing make-up because I’ve had it professionally done for everything that matters since I was sixteen years old. I’ve never needed to be good at it. Jess tugged at my hair, spinning a hairstraightener around in a way that leaves my auburn strands in loose waves, a trick I’ve never learnt.
And now I’m ready, and Luc is here. His curls are tidily styled, still wet looking with mousse. He’s wearing a white Ralph Lauren shirt with dark blue linen trousers and perfectly polished white trainers.
‘She’s really stubborn on this,’ Jess pipes up, and takes a huge gulp of her tea.
Luc looks at me carefully. ‘Did you enjoy pottery painting last night?’
I swallow loudly, and I’m careful with my words. ‘Yep.’
‘And you trust me?’
After he asked me this last night, I hesitated. But I already have to fight the words from rolling off my tongue. I can’t tell him I trust him. I wouldn’t know if it’s a lie or not. So, this time, I don’t say anything.
He’s broken down my guard before. Maybe it’s that I don’t trust myself around him.
Luc shakes his head. ‘Trust me on this one, Sienna,’ he requests.
I open my mouth. My lips are dry against my teeth, and my voice cracks when I force the words out. ‘Okay, I think I can do that.’
It isn’t until we open the front door and Kareem’s car isn’t there that I notice the eight missed calls on my phone. My stomach drops as I press his name to call him back.
‘Hey, Kareem. Everything okay?’
‘Hi, Miss Martin.’ The emotion is thick in his voice, a lump preventing clear speech. ‘Not really, to be honest.’
My belly turns, the multiple cups of tea swirling in my stomach. It gargles. My head spins. My mouth dries, and I fight with my saliva glands as I suck as much liquid as I can into my mouth to wet my teeth and lips.
I’m frozen. I can’t ask the question.
‘What’s wrong?’ Luc asks me, a gentle hand on the bottomof my back, and Kareem must hear because he acts like I’ve asked.
‘I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to take you tonight.’
I swallow, bracing myself.
‘We’re on our way to the hospital, but I’ve arranged for someone who covered my leave to come and get you. They shouldn’t be too far away…’ The line crackles and Kareem sniffs. ‘I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.’
I should never have admitted to being excited to play with Kareem’s baby girl when she gets a bit older. If something bad has happened to that poor, tiny baby, it’s my fault. The way bad things cling to me.
‘Is baby…’ I croak, daring to ask but not able to get the whole question out.
‘Oh,’ Kareem breathes. ‘She’s absolutely fine.’
I can finally exhale.
‘Patrick’s dad – he had a fall. Fine, but a bit broken.’
I hear some commotion in the car, Kareem’s husband requesting that he ‘just park there’, ‘it’s fine, just pull over’.
Kareem’s voice addresses me. ‘I should still be okay to pick you up for rehearsals in the morning, Miss Martin, so I’ll see you then.’
A car I vaguely recognise, with Dennis in the front passenger seat, pulls up to the gate. I hit the button on the wall to open it. Jess waves us off from the porch and then closes the door behind her.
