The girls had been assigned a huge room in the large loft the crew had rented to use as a base for the next stops, since they were close enough to reach in a few hours by car.
Belinda entered and immediately rushed to take a shower, every movement hurting her.
She carefully rolled her neck to ease the stiffness, closed her eyes, and let the warm water run over her.
In the past few days, she hadn't really had the time to understand how her relationship with Bill was evolving, and to tell the truth, she didn't even know if there was anything between them. It was more an exchange of glances, of feelings.
She liked him at times, she had to admit, especially away from the scene, when he shed the guise of the capricious star with the eccentric look and returned to being a cheerful, thoughtful, and sweet boy.
Aesthetically, he wasn't her ideal type; she mostly liked guys of average height, blond, with light eyes, a cheeky smile, and self-confidence.
Like Alex, she said to herself, shrugging to push the memory away.
Bill, on the other hand, was over six feet tall, lanky, with nervous movements, and when he spoke, it was a torrent of words delivered at an impressive speed. Originally, his hair was golden brown, but to create his character, he had dyed it brilliant black. He wore it long, down to his shoulders, or styled in hairstyles that were very reminiscent of Japanese manga. His eyes were very dark, deep, sometimes enigmatic, but he had a beautiful, very sweet smile, when he wasn't sulking over something that had offended or annoyed him. He had a piercing in his right eyebrow, and his back and part of his chest were covered in tattoos relating to moments in his career.
In interviews and with fans, he was cloyingly sweet and approachable, pompous as a peacock, and incredibly sexy. But on several occasions, she'd noticed that once the spotlight was off, he became sullen, distant, almost cold, far from the sunny person he usually was.
Belinda was beginning to think he had a split personality, so much so that when she referred to the singer, she'd call him B.K. or the big star in a sarcastic, venomous tone. If she'd hoped for a reaction from him to those nicknames, she'd failed miserably: Tom had found the ploy amusing, but he'd looked at her with detachment, without commenting. She wondered why he persisted in seeking her out, provoking her, continuing to cast fiery glances at her, only to then freeze her with cold, detached looks. Was he really like his brother said, that is, "an oversized ego that refuses to be ignored and convinced that the world revolves around him and not the Earth's axis"? She couldn't believe it, especially since there were moments when she had seen in him... No, maybe she was wrong. Maybe she had only been in his sights because she had denied him a kiss in public and he had considered it a blow to his image.
How strange this boy is... but I can't help but think of him, she thought. His eyes have a strange power over me. I feel them on me as if they had a body: caressing, tender, but also hungry for sensations. It shocks me when he looks at me, it's as if he can dig into my soul.
She turned off the water and wrapped herself in a soft bathrobe, wringing out her hair in a towel and letting it fall loose over her shoulders.
She returned to her room, put on light clothes, and attended to her aching shoulder.
Naomi entered without knocking, like a whirlwind, taking off her sandals and slipping on clogs to return to the door.
She paused for just a second and turned to look at her. "Madaleine asks if you want some grilled meat."
"No, I'm not hungry," she replied, spreading the cream on her reddened skin. "Thank her and tell her I'll come over later for some tea."
"Okay, see you later then!" She rushed out, slamming the door.
Belinda finished with a grimace and put the tube away.
She slipped on high-heeled wedge slippers and went out in search of Madeleine, the cook and handyman, who had been watching over her all these days like a mother, encouraging her to eat more because, in her words, she was "as small as a wren."
She found her sautéing vegetables in butter while simultaneously flipping meat on the grill. She reminded her of her mother, and she felt a pang of nostalgia.
She had spoken to her on the phone just that morning, and he had confided that Alex had been temporarily released for health reasons, although neither of them believed that story. They knew full well what the boy's illness was—drugs—but she had hoped that a conviction for attempted murder would keep him in prison. Unfortunately, they were examining all the documents their lawyer had brought to the judge, but it was known that the bureaucracy was slow.
She sighed and picked up a teapot from a shelf, approaching the woman.
"Hi, Maddie!" She greeted her using the nickname Kristian had given her.
She greeted her with a radiant smile. "Oh, hello, Bel, should I make you something?"
"No, thanks, I'll do it myself. If you tell me where I can put the kettle, I'll make myself some tea."
With a quick gesture, the other woman took it from her, filled it with water, and found a place for it among the various pans.
She went back to stirring her vegetables, while giving her a critical look. "You should eat more, you know?"
"But I eat, I swear! It's just that when I'm tired, my stomach knots up," she protested. "Hey, you're not the one who thinks plump women are the best, are you?"
"No, no... although sometimes having a lot of fat helps you better tolerate fatigue, the cold, and... men," she grumbled, winking.
Belinda laughed heartily, knowing the plight of the woman whose husband had abandoned her several years earlier with three young children to raise.
"How right youare, my dear, but I have a better remedy for men. Since I started kickboxing, I've learned that a few well-placed kicks or punches are better than a lot of useless words. They're afraid of aggressive women."
"You'll tickle them with those little hands!" Tom interjected, entering the kitchen and grabbing some fries from a bowl and stuffing them into his mouth.
"Don't challenge me, Tom," she warned him. "Because, sooner or later, I'll lose my patience and knock you out for real!"
He laughed, his mouth still full. "Yes, yes, of course!"
"There's someone you should hit on the hands because he's always eating there!" Madeleine sneered in mock reproach.
"I have to grow up!" the boy protested, dodging a blow from the spoon and grabbing a piece of toast.
"And what do you want to be when you grow up?" Belinda teased him. "Screw light bulbs into the ceiling?"
"Be careful, woman," he threatened, frowning with a psychopathic expression. "I might make you regret your words!"
He approached, imitating a giant mountain yeti, while the girl laughed harder and harder, kicking her feet to avoid being touched.
"They'll only find your bones... maybe even with the pulp removed," he growled, amused. "Even because there's not much to eat on you!"
Belinda couldn't stop laughing. "Stop it, Tom!"
He continued to advance, trying to tickle her. The girl writhed on the stool, trying to block him, but Tom lifted her, hoisted her onto his shoulder, and, howling like a predator, carried her into the living room, where the others, just returning from the garden, greeted them with clapping, laughter, and howls.
Belinda struggled and lost her hooves, trying every way to tickle him, but Tom didn't seem to notice.
He set her down on a sofa, growling menacingly. "Now, big caveman, eat your little prey!"
He bared his teeth and pretended to bite her. She dodged Tom's hand, but he grabbed her by the shirt, which he pulled up past her navel, exposing her skin.
"Oh, what do we have here?" the guitarist shouted louder. "A tattoo! Man, Bel has an amazing tattoo!"
Everyone gathered around, curious to see him, and this infuriated Belinda. She'd been playing along, but now Tom had really gone too far, invading her privacy, exposing her to everyone.
With a twist of her hips, she straightened up, leveraged herself with one leg, and with the other, hooked Tom around the neck and threw him to the floor. The impact was so sudden and unexpected that it surprised everyone.
She stood up, picked up her clogs, put them on, and haughtily headed toward the kitchen. At the door, she turned and pointed a finger at the others. "The next person who tries to bully me or make fun of me, I'll throw them out the window. Is that clear?"
She left, while Bill and Naomi applauded vigorously and Tom, still lying on the floor, watched her amused.
"What a woman!" he exclaimed, delighted.
At the table, shortly thereafter, he continued to cast amused glances at her, while Belinda sipped her tea, ignoring him. Every time she looked at him, he played the victim, begging, "Don't hit me, please!" or "Yes, hit me, hurt me!" and Belinda could barely contain her laughter.
Bill enjoyed the scene, making sure his brother didn't overdo it.
The hours passed happily, while fatigue began to set in.
Yawning, Belinda stood up, wished everyone goodnight, and headed for her room.
Tom shouted after her. "Come over tonight, my lady and mistress!"
"I'll get the torture devices. Keep the door open, darling," she promised, winking at him as he gloated.
Belinda giggled as she entered the room.
She quickly slipped into her pajamas and flopped onto the bed, closing her eyes. She was really tired and was considering setting the alarm for the next morning, when a light knock on the door surprised her.
"It's open!" she muttered.
She heard it open and then close again. A light footstep approached her in the dim light of the room, and someone sat down next to her.
With her eyes closed, she inhaled and recognized Bill's scent.
"What's wrong?" she asked without opening her eyes.
"Sorry about the tattoo thing, Tom took it a bit too far," she said, approaching the bed.
"Don't keep apologizing for your brother. You've been doing it all along," she reprimanded, annoyed.
"I've never done this before, but I feel guilty about the way he acts with you."
"Don't worry, I know how to fix it when he overdoes it," she reassured him, her face buried in the pillow.
Bill laughed softly. "I see."
"Why are you here, Bill?"
He didn't answer and lay down next to her, leaning on an elbow; he stroked her hair, eliciting a soft sigh.
He waited a moment before answering. "To apologize... I don't know, maybe it was just an excuse to talk to you, I like being with you."
Belinda didn't move, wanting to enjoy that pleasant moment, while her mind began to follow mysterious paths.
After a few moments, thinking she had fallen asleep, Bill got up, closed the window, and started to walk away.
"You can't just leave like this, Bill," Belinda muttered. "You owe me at least a goodnight kiss, don't you?"
With a surprised chuckle, the boy came back, knelt beside the bed, and, brushing her hair aside, leaned in to kiss her cheek.
Dissatisfied, she sighed, rolled onto her back, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him close. She pressed her lips gently to his, sending warmth and tenderness through him.
But it was too brief.
"This is a goodnight kiss," she murmured. "Haven't they taught you anything, great star?"
She released him and rolled over.
She couldn't tell how long it took for Bill to leave, because he almost immediately fell into a deep sleep, a smile on his lips.