This Could Have Been Our Song!: A coulda woulda shoulda ballad Read Online Free PDF Page A

Now, with my new contract in hand, I realized that I could have just walked away from all this. I had a lot to worry about on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean with Mary’s album and her ever-changing mind about us. So why was I still here? Lucia? My friendship with the Marshes? My fucking pride? I really should have rung her at least to warn her about tomorrow.
    Reflecting on last Friday, going to the Origin Lounge to find her was a stupid idea from the start. But after hearing all those things about Lucia Mpobo-Riddell, I wanted to take a real peek at her. I just didn ’t know how far that would go. It was almost 11.30 p.m. when we got there; I forgot how much going out in the company of women could make you late – Nella changed five times. God forbid her perfectly fit, dancer silhouette should look anything but, well, perfect.
    The place was crowded for a guest-passes-only lounge. We got a table and drinks and I started to scout.
    “Are you sure she’s here tonight?” John whispered to me.
    “ My sources said she would be here with her sisters,” I whispered back.
    Nella suspiciously looked at us. “What are you men up to?” she asked.
    I looked at John and carefully said, “I heard that some of the Noël-Sarrow creative team would be here.”
    Nella smiled. “Who?”
    “ We’re not sure,” John said and then he kissed her.
    Nella finished her martini and got up. “Fine. If you don’t want to tell me, I’m going for a refill at the bar.”
    “ You’re not going after her?” I asked him.
    He shrugged. “She’s fine.”
    With Nella gone, I started to look more closely for Lucia. I noticed two women standing at the other end of the room. John saw them as well. “Twins. Over there. Nice,” he said.
    Their features were almost identical but what really struck my attention were their eyes; they were just lovely. One of them had long, straight hair and it was partially covering her naked back; she was wearing a short, open-back, blue dress. The other twin ’s hair was shorter and curly but was pulled in a very tight ponytail; she was wearing a light-grey tube top with a wavy, matching skirt and black tights. Her curvy body alone made my mouth dry. She smiled to her sister.
    “ That’s Lucia,” I whispered to John. I recognized her smile from her office pictures. She turned around and was now facing me. Our eyes locked. She smiled. I smiled back.
    “ Are you sure?” John asked. “They look the same to me.”
    “ No, not really,” I told John, not breaking my connection with Lucia. “Not at all.”
    “ That’s Noor and her younger sister, Lucia” Nella said and sat back at the table.
    “ You know them?” I asked, surprised.
    “ Just Noor Mpobo really. She was a professional dancer before opening her own dance school.”
    “ Of course!” John said. “I met her before. They’re not twins, Marcus.”
    “ Thanks, mate. I’ve got this one.” I got up and walk toward Lucia and her sister. How could I have ever thought they looked identical? They were both beautiful but you could see Noor’s blunt mischievousness contrasting with Lucia’s not-so-innocent, flirtatious ways from the other end of the room. Quite a pair those two. I was about to introduce myself to them when I heard Lucia first – in French.
    “ Il est la [3] , ” she whispered to Noor.
    This part of the lounge didn ’t play music, so people were able to have conversation.
    “ Who?” she whispered back.
    Lucia eyes didn ’t leave mine. “The hot guy,” she said before she brought her drink to her lips – most sensual thing I’d seen in a long time.
    “ That’s my cue,” I whispered. “Hi, I’m Marcus,” I told both of them.
    “ Well, hi, Marcus. I’m Noor and this is my sister, Lucia,” she flirted back at me. “Do I hear an accent, Marcus…?”
    “ Just Marcus,” I said winking.
    Noor look surprised. “Manchester accent! Luce, how random is that?”
    “ We were born in London and grew up there,”