Chapter Seven, Across the Pond
Posted by DiF on Saturday, August 13, 2011
Title: Don’t Look Away: Chapter Seven, Across the Pond
Rating: R [sexual conversations, language]
Summary: Pete & Cady arrive in London.
Rolling over in bed, intending to slip his arm over Cady’s stomach, Pete bolted upright. His girlfriend was not there. His blue eyes darted about, searching for her. As his eyes hit the bathroom door, it opened and she stepped out, fully dressed. Confusion filled his face. Their flight to London was in the early afternoon. It was not early afternoon.
“Cady?”
She smiled at him, “Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?”
“I… uh… sure. Do we need to go somewhere?”
“Oh I’m just going to the doctor this morning. Just to get a new prescription and a copy of my medical records to take with me,” she explained.
“Oh,” he rubbed his eyes. “I can go with you.”
She chuckled, “Not necessary, Pete. What are you going to do? Hold my hand while the doctor sticks his hand up in–”
“All right. I won’t go,” he interrupted. “When will you be back?”
“With plenty of time to finish packing and have a quickie with you before the taxi arrives,” Cady responded as she picked up her keys.
Pete’s eyes widened slightly, “Did you just say…?”
“Finish packing? Yep. Unless you want to do that while I’m gone,” she winked. “I’ll be back soon, sweetie. Oh and if you’re hungry, there’s bread and fruit we need to do something about before we leave.”
Rubbing his face, Pete turned her words over in his mind once more as she stepped out of the flat. She had mentioned sex. He was certain of it. It certainly was going to make concentrating on anything until she returned difficult to say the least. He would have to find something to do. After a cup of tea and some toast, he would see what else needed to be packed. He rolled out of bed and headed into the kitchen. Shuffling through the cupboards, Pete pulled out some tea and bread. Seeing fruit in the fridge that Cady had mentioned, he grabbed a few pieces of that as well. Perhaps he would visit James and take him the perishable foods in Cady’s kitchen. That would be a viable excuse to visit Cady’s cousin.
Taking his time to eat and get dressed, Pete gathered up all of the perishable items in the house. Not really having anything to put it in presented a problem. So he removed his guitar from the new case and piled it all into it. It was only then that he realized he had no clue where James lived. It would be rather ridiculous to knock on all of the doors. But if only four people lived in the building and Cady was one of them, he had a one in three chance to find James. Deciding that was good enough for him, he clicked the case close and headed out of the loft.
Wandering down the hallway, he waited until he reached another door with a number on it. Shrugging he reached up and knocked. He waited for a few minutes before turning away and heading to the next numbered door. He knocked at this one before lifting his hand to his mouth to chew on his nails. The door opened and a man he had not seen before stood there dressed in paint-covered clothing.
“Oh hello,” Pete’s hand dropped from his mouth. “I don’t suppose you can tell me which flat belongs to James?”
“He lives across the hall,” he pointed at the door across from Cady’s. “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”
“I do not think so, but I could be mistaken,” Pete responded. “I’m staying with Cady, my girlfriend.”
His eyes widened, “Oh! You’re the dude who punched Jimi the other night!”
He rubbed the back of his neck, “You heard about that?”
“I was there. Not like right there, there. But I was in the club that night. Good one on you, man. Jimi is an ass, especially when he drinks,” he stated.
Pete regarded the man for a minute, “How do you know Cady?”
“She helped me sell some of my paintings awhile back,” he answered. “Good girl. You better treat her right.”
“You do not need to worry about that,” he responded.
The neighbor nodded, “I’m Michael by the way.”
“Pete. Pete Townshend,” he held out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Pete. British, eh?”
He nodded.
“Nice place. Are you planning on taking Cady back there?”
“We’re leaving today.”
“Oh. Well I’ll keep an eye on her place while you’re gone. You are coming back, right?”
Pete shrugged, “I don’t know. Actually the reason I was looking for James is to give him all our perishable food.”
“James probably isn’t even home. He usually spends Tuesday through Thursday somewhere else, I’m not sure where,” Michael claimed.
“Oh. Well do you want it?”
“Sure! Can’t say no to free food.”
Following the artist into his flat, Pete set the guitar case on the counter and quickly unpacked it. Neither of the two men spoke at all. Pete unpacked, Michael packed. Words were unnecessary, though Pete was wondering more and more about the other man.
“What do you think about Cady?” he asked his jealousy seeping out in his voice.
Michael smiled crookedly, “She’s great. I adore her. If I weren’t gay, I would certainly date her. But I think my boyfriend would have issues with that.”
“Was I that evident?”
He nodded, “Do you want to know a secret?”
“Sure…”
“All the men in this building are gay,” Michael claimed. “None of them are a threat to you, Pete. Not a one.”
“Heh.”
“If you have some time, we can sit and chat for awhile.”
Pete considered it for a minute, “I would, but Cady expects me to finish packing so when she gets back we… don’t have to worry about that.”
“Oh all right. Well when you get back to New York of course. You Brits like tea and I have quite the array of teas, so perhaps we can have a spot of tea together,” he remarked.
“That would be lovely,” he clicked his guitar close, feeling a bit awkward with Michael’s offer.
“Let me know,” he walked Pete to the door. “And have a safe trip.”
As Pete returned to Cady’s loft, he turned over the few words he shared with Michael. He had learned a bit, quite a bit, about Cady’s life – or at least the environment surrounding her life. And that surely illuminated things. It was then though, that he suddenly realized how little he knew about the woman he loved, he loved very much. It would be interesting to introduce her to his life, his world in London. Would she fit in? Would they work as well in England as they had in America? If it came down to it, he would leave his home for her, with very little thought in it at all.
Wandering about the loft, he wondered what else they needed to take with them. He opened random drawers, found most of them unsurprisingly empty. There really was nothing else for him to pack. All of her clothes filled three suitcases and one dress bag. The clothes she had bought him filled another two suitcases. And she had a suitcase full of shoes. There was nothing left to pack.
He found himself unexplainably drawn back to the caches of paintings he knew of under the bed now. Sitting down with his back to the door, Pete pulled out another stack. This particular stack was far more abstract or even perhaps impressionistic. Colors made the forms, not line and shadow. Again he found himself recognizing the images. However this time Cady had no portrayed his home, but rather images of… concerts. None of them seemed to be linked to any particular concert, but rather the feeling of all concerts, big or small. He would like to think they were his concerts, but nothing identified the figures in the paintings at all – until he reached the figure of a guitarist. Pete instantly knew it was meant to be him, because the abstract figure was posed like in the midst of a windmill movement.
And she didn’t think she was talented? Was she insane? Incredulous that Cady would not think herself talented, Pete began to pull out more stacks of canvasses from under her bed. None of the paintings were very large, the largest being about three feet high. With stretchers no more than three inches thick, Cady had clearly found the space under her bed not up to par and lifted the bed an additional five inches or so, making it possible to stack four of the thickest paintings on top of each other. How he had missed that the bed was raised before, Pete was uncertain, but that did not matter. There were at least fifty paintings stored under her bed. As he continued to pull the stacks out, he wanted to lean them all up around the room to better look at the paintings, to fully see and enjoy Cady’s talent.
So engrossed in pulling them all out, Pete lost track of time. He was halfway under the king-sized bed, reaching for a stack of smaller, thinner paintings when the door opened. Positioned as he was, Pete did not hear her until she closed the door and called his name. He quickly scuttled out from under the bed.
“Hey, baby,” he grinned.
Her eyes quickly took in what he had been doing, “Pete… I… I’m not sure that I’m comfortable with what you’re doing.”
Frowning, he quickly got to his feet, “Cady, baby, these are amazing. Is there anything you can’t paint?”
Her eyes held his and he stepped around piles to get to her, “Um… everything?”
“You’re shitting me,” he retorted.
“No. I’m not good at any of it. That’s why they’re under the bed, Pete,” she explained, sidestepping his reach. “So put them back where they belong. I need to figure out what to do with the bread and fruit.”
He ignored her comment about the food, “Baby, you are an amazing artist. I haven’t really looked at most of these, but… fuck, Cady. I doubt there is anything out there you couldn’t paint. It’s almost like you’re a sponge to all these different movements and styles.”
“I have no talent and no eye for it, Pete. I just do it because… I’m compelled to. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less,” she headed towards the fridge.
Picking up a couple of the paintings, all three in a vastly different style, “Cady, can you honestly look at these and tell me you have no talent? Really?”
Her eyes didn’t even flick back to him as she opened the fridge, “Where’s all the food, Pete?”
“I took it to a neighbor,” he responded, setting down the paintings to reach for her. “Cady, look at me and tell me you have no talent, that you don’t see the mastery in these paintings.”
Turning around after closing the door, her eyes went to his, “I have no talent. I am merely a copycat in a world expecting unique bravado and ideas. I have no talent.”
“A copycat? Are you serious? Baby, these are amazing. And I have never seen anything like them before,” he picked up the set aside paintings. “You seem to move from photorealism to abstraction with ease. Do not tell me you have no talent.”
“I have no talent,” she repeated, walking away from him towards the closet. “Put those away. All of them. We can’t get to the bed to fuck with them all over the place.”
While before she left his thought had been filled and preoccupied with thoughts of sex with her, her adamant refusal to believe she had artistic talent completely overrode everything. She could have stripped naked and lay down spread eagle and he would still refuse her. She simply had to understand that a lot of people would give their lives for her talent. Hell he would have loved to have her talent. Sure he could see how she called herself a copycat, but copying someone’s style but depicting something else was not the same. He really could not see an image of some street scene in London painted in the style of Monet as a copycat image. She had talent, but how could he convince her of that? Who had convinced her of the opposite?
“Baby, why do you think you have no talent?”
“Drop it, Pete. Put the paintings away,” she instructed, pulling the suitcases out of the closet and towards the door. “Please.”
“But–”
“Just do it, Pete. Please,” her eyes flicked to his briefly.
In that brief connection, he knew he had to let it go, at least for now. Her eyes were filled with such great stress; he could not pursue it any more. It bothered him, made him worry about her. But no, he had to let it go; she asked him to. But not for sex. As much as he lusted for her, Pete had no need to love her right then, even with her offer to fuc…
“Baby, do you think we fuck?”
Her eyes snapped to his before he moved to return the paintings to their storage location, “Everyone fucks.”
“You don’t think it’s different between us, bigger than just fucking?”
“God, Pete, I don’t know,” she sighed. “Do I feel better in your arms than I have ever felt in my life? Yes. Does that make it something more than fucking? I don’t know. I don’t know the difference between fucking and not fucking, I guess.”
He nearly dropped the stack of paintings in his arms at her statement, “Cady, who taught you these things? Who taught you to devalue your talent? Who taught you to devalue lovemaking?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she responded. “It’s true. And the cab will be here in twenty minutes so we need to get downstairs soon.”
Slipping into the seat on the airplane next to Cady after visiting the facilities, Pete frowned. They had not really spoken since the issue with the paintings at the apartment and it bothered him a great deal. He could not understand why she could not believe that she was talented. But then her claim of fucking seemed to just add an exclamation point to that thought. In the few weeks they had been together and the months they had known each other, not once had he even had a glimmer of thought that she thought such negative things about herself and anything else related to her. She was his confident love, who took everything in stride or who knew how to fix things with ease when it wasn’t going just write. Put simply, he did not know how to take her feeling inferior.
“Baby?” he muttered, eyes looking to her face.
Cady turned her attention away from watching the ocean below them, “Yes, Pete.”
He leaned forward and kissed her softly, “I love you.”
She smiled slightly, leaning in for another kiss, “I know you do.”
“And how do you know that?” he asked, pushing up the armrest between them so he could pull her easily into his lap and nuzzle her.
Closing her eyes, she leaned into his caresses, “Well… there is the fact you tell me all the time.”
“And?”
She slipped the bangle off her wrist she hadn’t removed since he placed it there or so Pete thought, “There are words on the inside of this.”
“Is there now?”
Cady held it up slightly, so that the small overhead lights shined through it, “And guess what it says?”
“What does it say?”
“It has about nine different words for love engraved on it,” she proclaimed and slipped it back on.
Smiling, Pete kissed her briefly, “That’s not nearly enough.”
“One would be enough,” she responded. “I’m so lucky to have you.”
Pausing in thought, he frowned slightly, “Now that I cannot find any evidence supporting. I don’t have a real job. I’m in more debt than you can possibly imagine. I can’t offer you a stable life or even a place to live at the moment. I’m told I’m moody and difficult to work with. I can’t see why you would be lucky to be with me.”
“We’ll find a place to live as soon as we can, Pete. I’m not worried. You do have a real job, not a conventional one, but a real one nonetheless. More importantly you’re doing what you want to do, not chained down to a desk or something because you think you should be. Every artist is moody, Pete. Hell, Jimi is one of the worst ones. I can handle moodiness,” Cady rebutted.
“You’re not moody and you’re the most talented artist I’ve ever known.”
Her eyes instantly left his, “No, I’m not.”
“Cady, why do you–”
“Because that’s what every single professor and student told me at art school, Pete,” she looked back at him. “That I was just a little rich girl who likely paid someone else to complete my assignments. That I never should have been in art school to begin with and wouldn’t have been if my daddy hadn’t bought my way in. They don’t think I have any talent and they’re ri–”
“More wrong than you can ever believe,” he interrupted. “Did you not submit a portfolio to get into school?”
“Yes, of course I did.”
“Did the school know of your financial background?”
“You would have to ask them.”
“Did the other students know?”
“Not until one of the girls blurted it out in life drawing class.”
Pete paused for a moment, “Was that girl the one we saw at the bar the other night?”
Cady leaned her head on his shoulder, her fingers gently playing with the buttons on his shirt, “Yes.”
“Is there more to that story than you’re telling me?”
“Yes.”
He reached up and brushed her hair from her face gently, “I won’t ask you any more about it. You can tell me when you’re ready.”
She took a breath, “I don’t want you to think I’m keeping things from you. I really don’t. But this… this really isn’t the place to talk about it. Just know that it has to do with… sex and administrators and my supposed lack of artistic ability.”
His curiosity was even triggered more, but he respected her declaration that it was not the time. He had a feeling sometime in the near future they would have to have a heart-to-heart. She already knew a great deal about him, as he had spilled so much while tripping those couple of… days. But now he felt like she was beginning to open to him. Why else would she have admitted her insecurities about her art? But she had just prefaced her artistic ability with the word ‘supposed.’ That had to indicate that she didn’t fully believe in what everyone said about her art.
“Pete, you can’t tell anyone that I have money. Not the band, not any of your friends or family. I don’t want them to judge me for it,” she stated softly.
He picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips, “Whatever you want, Cady. I don’t think they would judge you for it, but if you don’t want anyone to know, it will be our secret.”
“Thank you. We should stop at the bank before we go anywhere though. So I can withdraw some money for you to hold onto,” she suggested.
“You have a bank account in London?”
“Yeah. Daddy set it up when it became clear I wasn’t just spending a week or two in London with Jimi. Had I been given the choice, I probably would have stayed here and pursued you,” she claimed, her hand leaving his buttons alone to intertwine with his fingers.
“But?”
“I didn’t feel that you wanted me. And I… the last time I saw you, you were with Karen,” she answered.
He instantly frowned, lifting her hand to his mouth again to kiss it, “Cady, had I known you were interested in anything, I would have…”
She shook her head slightly, “Things happened how they were meant to be. Jimi killed me at Monterey; you brought me back to life, truly to life. It all happened how it was supposed to.”
“London will be new start for us. You’ll see,” Pete stated.
She smiled, “It’s where we started in the first place, Pete. It’s where we’re meant to be. Though… do you have any idea where we’re going to stay?”
He released her hand and reached up to brush her hair back again, “With my manager for a day or two until I can get us a flat. He has enough room for a few days. Plus Kit might have already collected my things from Karen, if we’re lucky.”
“If he hasn’t… don’t go without me.”
“I… are you sure about that?”
“I don’t want you to face her without me, even though I am the reason you broke off your relationship with her. I just… I just don’t trust what could happen if you went alone,” Cady stated, her eyes flicking to the flight attendant who paused to ask them if they needed anything. “I just get the feeling that she could get really nasty and I don’t want you to deal with that alone.”
“I hope she doesn’t become that person, but we’ll see. I wouldn’t want to go without you anyways. I want you with me always.”
She chuckled, “That just does not sound reasonable at all, Pete. We all need time without our soul mate.”
“Nah. I want you always.”
She quickly kissed him, “I want you always as well, but that doesn’t mean I need to be with you all the time. In fact, I need to be alone right now. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
Stepping away from the bank teller, Pete discreetly accepted the cash from Cady. He didn’t question her actions, not because he was completely comfortable with it, but because he understood. Her wealth made her uncomfortable, but not so much that she was going to avoid using it. He would keep her secret, play along with her charade. It would subtly make both of their lives easier. Hand on the small of her back, he guided her back out to the waiting taxi, kissed her briefly, and helped her back into the car.
She kissed him when he slid back in beside her, “I love you, Pete Townshend.”
He smiled, “I love you too.”
“Wheor tuh neeo?” the cab driver asked.
Taking a moment to translate the cabbie’s accent as he had become accustomed to the accents in New York, not London, Pete responded with Kit Lambert’s address. While the manager was aware of Pete’s return to London, having arranged the flight, no one had mentioned the couple would be crashing at his flat. Pete hadn’t even thought it needed to be discussed, that his manager would have an issue with it. He had slept in Kit’s apartment on a number occasions; this would be no different. Well it was different because of Cady, but it would not be so different that he was concerned.
“What’s Kit like?” Cady asked.
“Well… he’s definitely a mod. He has big ideas too. I think he feeds and pushes mine sometimes. He’s very fashion aware. Um… his dad is a classical composer…” Pete shrugged. “I don’t really know what else to tell you.”
“Well does he have a girlfriend or do I need to be carrying around a baseball bat to keep him away?”
He smirked, “Sweetie, he’s about as gay as your neighbors.”
Her eyes snapped to his, “You finally figured out I live in a building full of fairies?”
Pete nodded.
“Well good. That makes all things less complicated. You know my building mates are more likely to hit on you than me and I know I have to use my baseball bat to keep Kit away from you,” she remarked, before glancing out the window. “Where are we going to get a place, Pete?”
“I don’t know, baby. We’ll ask Kit what he thinks. We probably shouldn’t go out today, let ourselves adjust to this time zone,” he responded, reaching to hold her hand.
“The sooner we get a place the better. Plus we have to go rescue your things from Karen,” she turned to meet his eyes again. “I’m fine. I slept some on the plane.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Very much so. We’ll check in with Kit and then go find some place to live so we don’t impose on him long at all. Or no, let’s go to Karen’s first.”
“You really want to come with me?”
“Someone has to protect you, Pete,” she smiled and kissed him quickly as the cab pulled up in front of a building.
Requesting the driver to remain in case Kit wasn’t home and not wanting to lug the many pieces of luggage upstairs if that was the case, Pete lead Cady into the building and to Kit’s flat. He knocked and began to fidget slightly. Perhaps he should have rung up Kit and let him know they were on their way. Cady squeezed his hand gently, drawing his attention to her. She quickly stole a kiss as the door opened.
“Pete?”
He snapped back from Cady’s kiss to face his manager, “Afternoon, Kit.”
“Hello, Pete. Did you just get in?” he stepped to the side.
“Not long ago. We need some place to stay until we can find our own place. Can we stay here?” he quickly blurted out.
“Uh, of course,” he responded.
“Great. Can you give us a hand with our luggage?” Pete asked, turning to head back downstairs without waiting for a response.
Between the four of them, the copious number of suitcases was lugged up to Kit’s messy apartment. Pete made certain to tip the cab driver well, from the money Cady had slipped him earlier. He could tell by the way Cady was looking around the flat covered with piles of all sorts of kinds of papers and other objects that she was less than impressed with his manager. It seemed to be frustrating Kit as well, for the man had folded his arms over his chest and was staring at the beautiful young woman. Pete knew it was up to him to diffuse the situation.
“So, Kit, Cady and I were wondering where you suggest we look for a place to live,” he spoke up, drawing Kit’s attention.
“Who is Cady?” the manager replied.
“I am,” the tall brunette responded.
“Fuck. I’m sorry,” Pete stated. “Baby, this is my manager, Kit. Kit, this is my girlfriend, Cady Kersey.”
“Nice to meet you,” Cady struck out her hand.
Kit shook it slightly, “So you’re the one who kept Pete in the States.”
Even though she knew it wasn’t a question, she nodded, “I tied him up and kept him in my closet. It was fun.”
He looked at her without blinking for a couple of minutes before breaking into a smile, “Seems you’ll fit right in then, Miss Kersey.”
“Cady please.”
“Well, Cady, make yourself at home. My home is your home for as long as you need,” Kit declared.
“Thank you. But we hope to be out in a couple of days,” she stated. “You seem to have… a lot going on here. We don’t want to impose.”
Kit glanced at Pete, wondering to himself how it was that the guitarist managed to trade in an art school girlfriend for someone who seemed to be a few steps above not only Karen but everyone else in Pete’s life, “Whatever I can do to help.”
“Actually, do you think you can get us a van? I need to go and get my things from Karen’s,” Pete stated.
“Pete, we should actually see if there is anything to pick up first,” Cady interjected. “She could have thrown it all out.”
“Oh god. I hope not.”
Perhaps under a different circumstance, Cady would have been for more nervous about what they were about to do. But she fully believed in the strength of her affections for Pete. Plus she had seen Karen more than a few times and was fairly certain if it came down to it, she could outfight her without breaking a sweat. But as she followed Pete to the door, holding his hand to assure him of her presence and hopefully calm the nerves she felt bubbling up in him already, Cady was certain anything that could happen, they would overcome.
“Everything is going to be fine, Pete,” she muttered softly, squeezing his hand as they slowed to a stop in front of a door. “I love you.”
His eyes flicked to hers and he quickly kissed her, “Thank you. I love you too.”
Releasing Cady’s hand, he pulled out his set of keys. While he did not truly expect it would be as easy as unlocking the door, slipping in, and grabbing his things, Pete figured he should at least try. Stranger things had happened before. The key slid easily into the lock but did not turn. He hadn’t really expected it to and quickly removed it to knock. They hardly waited two minutes before the door opened.
Karen barely even looked at Pete, her eyes focusing on Cady instead, “What do you want?”
“We’re here for Pete’s things,” Cady stated evenly, her back and shoulders confidently straight.
“What makes you think I’m about to allow you in my apartment?”
The blue-eyed girl remained steady, “It’s the most prudent choice. Letting us in will allow you to move on from the hurt you feel because we will remove the greatest collection of things that remind you of Pete every time you see them about your flat.”
Pete was honestly impressed. Cady had not let any trace of emotion seep out in her words and she was appealing to Karen’s logic. While he was not entirely sure that was the best thing to do, given the emotional nature of the entire situation, it seemed to be working. Karen relaxed slightly and let the door fall completely open, allowing them passage. Glancing around Pete was a bit surprised to see boxes around the room and none of his things. Had Karen already taken the initiative to gather up his possessions and box them?
“These boxes are Pete’s?” Cady asked Pete’s silent question.
Karen nodded, “Everything that would fit into boxes at least.”
“Pete,” she turned to him, “you should call Kit and tell him to bring the van. Everything seems ready to go.”
“I… all right,” he headed towards the phone, not entirely sure if he should leave his girlfriend with his ex.
Cady however did not encourage his lingering and turned to checking the boxes, asking Karen what didn’t fit in them. The other woman quickly led her away, into the bedroom she formerly shared with Pete. That made Pete more nervous but he had a task to complete first before he could intercede. Quickly dialing the manager, he leaned stretched the phone cord as much as possible to see if he could spy on the two women. Unfortunately neither was in his sightline.
“Yeah, hey, Kit. Karen has apparently already packed up all of my things. So do you think you could come with the van?”
Looking in the closet, Cady nodded. A few of Pete’s suits still hung in there and a few guitars were stacked on the floor as well, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to have all the extra space once his things are gone.”
“I suppose so. Pete does take up a lot of space, especially with all of his recording equipment. No doubt he is already planning on getting more,” Karen commented, motioning to the stacks of electronics piled against the wall opposite the window. “He’s not as easy to live with as you might think.”
“He’s a Taurus. I’m aware of how bull-headed he can be and that there will likely be times when he doesn’t want to be around me,” Cady stated. “But I have loved him since I first saw him so many months ago, so I am certain we can work things out.”
She tilted her head to the side slightly, “When did you and Pete meet?”
“October of last year.”
“Oh.”
“Karen, I never pursued Pete as soon as I knew of you,” she claimed. “In fact the moment I found out about you, I put as much space between me and Pete as possible.”
“But when I saw the two of you at the festival…”
“I can’t speak for Pete nor would I even try,” Cady began, “but I can tell you that… Karen, I only went to the festival in hopes of seeing Pete again. Part of me was hoping I could then let him go if that’s what needed to happen, after pining for him for months. Part of me was hoping for something greater. It was the something greater that happened. And I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of it. I never wanted that. I’m sorry.”
Karen looked into Cady’s eyes for a moment before saying, “I accept your apology.”
Not expecting that at all, she couldn’t help but smile, “I hope someday you can forgive Pete too.”
“That will be harder.”
“I understand,” her eyes flicked to the door as Pete peeked in.
“Kit is on his way with the truck,” he stated, his eyes darting between the two women, expecting to see a potential nuclear explosion needing to be diffused.
Instead Pete watched as his girlfriend and ex-girlfriend embraced, whispering to each other. He had absolutely no idea how to process that. Weren’t they supposed to be deadly enemies? What was he missing?
Stepping over to Pete, Cady squeezed his hand, “I hope you and Kit have some clue of where we’re going to put everything, because it certainly isn’t going to fit in Kit’s flat.”
Standing in Kit’s messy living room, Cady stared at the small couch. Kit didn’t have a guest room, lived in a small one bedroom flat, and not that she could confirm that as she hadn’t even ventured opening the door to what was his bedroom to look. She had already shifted piles and restacked things just to find the couch. And Pete expected her to sleep on that? No way in hell was she about to do that. She would almost volunteer to sleep on the floor, but she had a feeling the gross hotels she and Jimi had stayed in before were safer to sleep on the floor than Kit’s apartment. There was no way she was going to be able to get a wink of sleep in the hovel.
“Oh wow,” Pete commented as he approached her. “You already made quite the difference in here.”
“Take me to a hotel, Pete,” she requested softly, her eyes going to his.
“The couch is–”
“Gross and I’m not sleeping on it,” she declared. “I want a real bed in some place I don’t feel like I need to wash my hands every two minutes. Take me to a hotel.”
“Baby, we don’t have much money,” he pointed out.
She would have argued against his statement had she not noticed Kit’s presence, clearly the reason Pete said what he had.
“I’ll pay for it,” Kit spoke up, drawing Pete’s eyes. “Not that I don’t want the two of you here, but Cady’s right. This really isn’t a space fit for visitors. Go take your woman to a nice hotel so the two of you can get some quality… sleep in before the tiring task of finding some place to live quickly so you can get to writing the next album.”
Hearing a lot more in his words than the actual words, Pete nearly started an argument. But instead he agreed to Kit’s suggestion, so much so he even allowed the manager to drive them to the nearest decent hotel. Kit signed the hotel papers before handing over the keys to Pete and telling him he would return in the late morning for both of them. They watched him exit the hotel before picking up the four suitcases they decided to bring with them for now.
“I hadn’t really expected Kit to put us up,” Cady stated softly as they stepped into the hotel. “I mean here. To pay for it.”
“He thinks we’re broke. Which he’s half right about,” he responded, setting down one of the cases to press the floor number. “That just means we’ve played it perfectly.”
She leaned over and kissed him briefly, “Thank you.”
He smiled, “To be honest, baby, I would have brought you directly to a hotel if I had any idea about Kit’s place being even more disastrous than I remember. I shouldn’t have even suggested we stay there.”
“It’s okay. You were being prudent,” she claimed, stepping out of the lift once the doors opened. “I know it’s not really like you to be so spontaneous. I’m impressed.”
“Are you now?” his brows went up as they headed down the hallway.
She turned to walk backwards, meeting his eyes, “I am. But you know what would impress me even more?”
“No. What?”
Cady stopped, catching his mouth in a quick kiss, “If you can make it through the night without ravishing me.”
Pete laughed, “Then I’m not even going to try and impress you tonight.”
“Oh well,” she sighed. “I suppose I’ll live.”
He dropped the suitcases inside the room and locked the door behind them, “Did you oppose staying with Kit merely because you wanted to jump my bones?”
“Perhaps,” she replied coyly.
Every instinct wanted to rush towards her, scoop her up in his arms, and toss her into the middle of the hotel bed. But loud voices in the back of his head screamed for him to not do such a thing. Not long ago she had claimed they fucked, not made love. Doing as he was urged in that moment would do nothing more than support her argument. No, he would not have sex with her that night or any time soon. Not until he could properly romance her, properly seduce her. He would not fuck Cady, no matter what she said. She deserved more and he was going to prove that to her by abstaining until it was perfect.
“On second thought,” Pete spoke as he approached her and kissed her softly, “I’ll meet your challenge. We’re not going to fuck. Ever again.”
Her eyes went to his, confusion filling her dark blue orbs, “What? I don’t understand.”
He kissed her once more, reaching down to release her hold on the suitcases, “I’m not going to fuck you, Cady. I’m going to make love to you, but not tonight. I’m going to romance and seduce you. I’m never going to fuck you.”
Her gaze wavered, “Pete, I…”
Quickly setting down the suitcases with the others, he returned quickly to her side. His hands framed her face, his thumbs catching tears he did not understand. He dipped in to kiss her lovingly, her hands going to his wrists, but not to remove his hands. She seemed to be clinging to him in some fashion, something he couldn’t understand.
“Do not cry, baby,” he muttered, kissing her tears. “Never cry.”
“Pete…” she uttered, falling fully into his arms. “I… I have known anyone like you.”
“Good. I don’t want to be like anyone else has been to you,” he responded. “I love you and I’m going to see that you are treated exactly as you always should have been, like the princess, the goddess you are. And it begins tonight.”
“Pete… will you just hold me?”
“Forever.”
Rating: R [sexual conversations, language]
Summary: Pete & Cady arrive in London.
Rolling over in bed, intending to slip his arm over Cady’s stomach, Pete bolted upright. His girlfriend was not there. His blue eyes darted about, searching for her. As his eyes hit the bathroom door, it opened and she stepped out, fully dressed. Confusion filled his face. Their flight to London was in the early afternoon. It was not early afternoon.
“Cady?”
She smiled at him, “Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?”
“I… uh… sure. Do we need to go somewhere?”
“Oh I’m just going to the doctor this morning. Just to get a new prescription and a copy of my medical records to take with me,” she explained.
“Oh,” he rubbed his eyes. “I can go with you.”
She chuckled, “Not necessary, Pete. What are you going to do? Hold my hand while the doctor sticks his hand up in–”
“All right. I won’t go,” he interrupted. “When will you be back?”
“With plenty of time to finish packing and have a quickie with you before the taxi arrives,” Cady responded as she picked up her keys.
Pete’s eyes widened slightly, “Did you just say…?”
“Finish packing? Yep. Unless you want to do that while I’m gone,” she winked. “I’ll be back soon, sweetie. Oh and if you’re hungry, there’s bread and fruit we need to do something about before we leave.”
Rubbing his face, Pete turned her words over in his mind once more as she stepped out of the flat. She had mentioned sex. He was certain of it. It certainly was going to make concentrating on anything until she returned difficult to say the least. He would have to find something to do. After a cup of tea and some toast, he would see what else needed to be packed. He rolled out of bed and headed into the kitchen. Shuffling through the cupboards, Pete pulled out some tea and bread. Seeing fruit in the fridge that Cady had mentioned, he grabbed a few pieces of that as well. Perhaps he would visit James and take him the perishable foods in Cady’s kitchen. That would be a viable excuse to visit Cady’s cousin.
Taking his time to eat and get dressed, Pete gathered up all of the perishable items in the house. Not really having anything to put it in presented a problem. So he removed his guitar from the new case and piled it all into it. It was only then that he realized he had no clue where James lived. It would be rather ridiculous to knock on all of the doors. But if only four people lived in the building and Cady was one of them, he had a one in three chance to find James. Deciding that was good enough for him, he clicked the case close and headed out of the loft.
Wandering down the hallway, he waited until he reached another door with a number on it. Shrugging he reached up and knocked. He waited for a few minutes before turning away and heading to the next numbered door. He knocked at this one before lifting his hand to his mouth to chew on his nails. The door opened and a man he had not seen before stood there dressed in paint-covered clothing.
“Oh hello,” Pete’s hand dropped from his mouth. “I don’t suppose you can tell me which flat belongs to James?”
“He lives across the hall,” he pointed at the door across from Cady’s. “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”
“I do not think so, but I could be mistaken,” Pete responded. “I’m staying with Cady, my girlfriend.”
His eyes widened, “Oh! You’re the dude who punched Jimi the other night!”
He rubbed the back of his neck, “You heard about that?”
“I was there. Not like right there, there. But I was in the club that night. Good one on you, man. Jimi is an ass, especially when he drinks,” he stated.
Pete regarded the man for a minute, “How do you know Cady?”
“She helped me sell some of my paintings awhile back,” he answered. “Good girl. You better treat her right.”
“You do not need to worry about that,” he responded.
The neighbor nodded, “I’m Michael by the way.”
“Pete. Pete Townshend,” he held out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Pete. British, eh?”
He nodded.
“Nice place. Are you planning on taking Cady back there?”
“We’re leaving today.”
“Oh. Well I’ll keep an eye on her place while you’re gone. You are coming back, right?”
Pete shrugged, “I don’t know. Actually the reason I was looking for James is to give him all our perishable food.”
“James probably isn’t even home. He usually spends Tuesday through Thursday somewhere else, I’m not sure where,” Michael claimed.
“Oh. Well do you want it?”
“Sure! Can’t say no to free food.”
Following the artist into his flat, Pete set the guitar case on the counter and quickly unpacked it. Neither of the two men spoke at all. Pete unpacked, Michael packed. Words were unnecessary, though Pete was wondering more and more about the other man.
“What do you think about Cady?” he asked his jealousy seeping out in his voice.
Michael smiled crookedly, “She’s great. I adore her. If I weren’t gay, I would certainly date her. But I think my boyfriend would have issues with that.”
“Was I that evident?”
He nodded, “Do you want to know a secret?”
“Sure…”
“All the men in this building are gay,” Michael claimed. “None of them are a threat to you, Pete. Not a one.”
“Heh.”
“If you have some time, we can sit and chat for awhile.”
Pete considered it for a minute, “I would, but Cady expects me to finish packing so when she gets back we… don’t have to worry about that.”
“Oh all right. Well when you get back to New York of course. You Brits like tea and I have quite the array of teas, so perhaps we can have a spot of tea together,” he remarked.
“That would be lovely,” he clicked his guitar close, feeling a bit awkward with Michael’s offer.
“Let me know,” he walked Pete to the door. “And have a safe trip.”
As Pete returned to Cady’s loft, he turned over the few words he shared with Michael. He had learned a bit, quite a bit, about Cady’s life – or at least the environment surrounding her life. And that surely illuminated things. It was then though, that he suddenly realized how little he knew about the woman he loved, he loved very much. It would be interesting to introduce her to his life, his world in London. Would she fit in? Would they work as well in England as they had in America? If it came down to it, he would leave his home for her, with very little thought in it at all.
Wandering about the loft, he wondered what else they needed to take with them. He opened random drawers, found most of them unsurprisingly empty. There really was nothing else for him to pack. All of her clothes filled three suitcases and one dress bag. The clothes she had bought him filled another two suitcases. And she had a suitcase full of shoes. There was nothing left to pack.
He found himself unexplainably drawn back to the caches of paintings he knew of under the bed now. Sitting down with his back to the door, Pete pulled out another stack. This particular stack was far more abstract or even perhaps impressionistic. Colors made the forms, not line and shadow. Again he found himself recognizing the images. However this time Cady had no portrayed his home, but rather images of… concerts. None of them seemed to be linked to any particular concert, but rather the feeling of all concerts, big or small. He would like to think they were his concerts, but nothing identified the figures in the paintings at all – until he reached the figure of a guitarist. Pete instantly knew it was meant to be him, because the abstract figure was posed like in the midst of a windmill movement.
And she didn’t think she was talented? Was she insane? Incredulous that Cady would not think herself talented, Pete began to pull out more stacks of canvasses from under her bed. None of the paintings were very large, the largest being about three feet high. With stretchers no more than three inches thick, Cady had clearly found the space under her bed not up to par and lifted the bed an additional five inches or so, making it possible to stack four of the thickest paintings on top of each other. How he had missed that the bed was raised before, Pete was uncertain, but that did not matter. There were at least fifty paintings stored under her bed. As he continued to pull the stacks out, he wanted to lean them all up around the room to better look at the paintings, to fully see and enjoy Cady’s talent.
So engrossed in pulling them all out, Pete lost track of time. He was halfway under the king-sized bed, reaching for a stack of smaller, thinner paintings when the door opened. Positioned as he was, Pete did not hear her until she closed the door and called his name. He quickly scuttled out from under the bed.
“Hey, baby,” he grinned.
Her eyes quickly took in what he had been doing, “Pete… I… I’m not sure that I’m comfortable with what you’re doing.”
Frowning, he quickly got to his feet, “Cady, baby, these are amazing. Is there anything you can’t paint?”
Her eyes held his and he stepped around piles to get to her, “Um… everything?”
“You’re shitting me,” he retorted.
“No. I’m not good at any of it. That’s why they’re under the bed, Pete,” she explained, sidestepping his reach. “So put them back where they belong. I need to figure out what to do with the bread and fruit.”
He ignored her comment about the food, “Baby, you are an amazing artist. I haven’t really looked at most of these, but… fuck, Cady. I doubt there is anything out there you couldn’t paint. It’s almost like you’re a sponge to all these different movements and styles.”
“I have no talent and no eye for it, Pete. I just do it because… I’m compelled to. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less,” she headed towards the fridge.
Picking up a couple of the paintings, all three in a vastly different style, “Cady, can you honestly look at these and tell me you have no talent? Really?”
Her eyes didn’t even flick back to him as she opened the fridge, “Where’s all the food, Pete?”
“I took it to a neighbor,” he responded, setting down the paintings to reach for her. “Cady, look at me and tell me you have no talent, that you don’t see the mastery in these paintings.”
Turning around after closing the door, her eyes went to his, “I have no talent. I am merely a copycat in a world expecting unique bravado and ideas. I have no talent.”
“A copycat? Are you serious? Baby, these are amazing. And I have never seen anything like them before,” he picked up the set aside paintings. “You seem to move from photorealism to abstraction with ease. Do not tell me you have no talent.”
“I have no talent,” she repeated, walking away from him towards the closet. “Put those away. All of them. We can’t get to the bed to fuck with them all over the place.”
While before she left his thought had been filled and preoccupied with thoughts of sex with her, her adamant refusal to believe she had artistic talent completely overrode everything. She could have stripped naked and lay down spread eagle and he would still refuse her. She simply had to understand that a lot of people would give their lives for her talent. Hell he would have loved to have her talent. Sure he could see how she called herself a copycat, but copying someone’s style but depicting something else was not the same. He really could not see an image of some street scene in London painted in the style of Monet as a copycat image. She had talent, but how could he convince her of that? Who had convinced her of the opposite?
“Baby, why do you think you have no talent?”
“Drop it, Pete. Put the paintings away,” she instructed, pulling the suitcases out of the closet and towards the door. “Please.”
“But–”
“Just do it, Pete. Please,” her eyes flicked to his briefly.
In that brief connection, he knew he had to let it go, at least for now. Her eyes were filled with such great stress; he could not pursue it any more. It bothered him, made him worry about her. But no, he had to let it go; she asked him to. But not for sex. As much as he lusted for her, Pete had no need to love her right then, even with her offer to fuc…
“Baby, do you think we fuck?”
Her eyes snapped to his before he moved to return the paintings to their storage location, “Everyone fucks.”
“You don’t think it’s different between us, bigger than just fucking?”
“God, Pete, I don’t know,” she sighed. “Do I feel better in your arms than I have ever felt in my life? Yes. Does that make it something more than fucking? I don’t know. I don’t know the difference between fucking and not fucking, I guess.”
He nearly dropped the stack of paintings in his arms at her statement, “Cady, who taught you these things? Who taught you to devalue your talent? Who taught you to devalue lovemaking?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she responded. “It’s true. And the cab will be here in twenty minutes so we need to get downstairs soon.”
Slipping into the seat on the airplane next to Cady after visiting the facilities, Pete frowned. They had not really spoken since the issue with the paintings at the apartment and it bothered him a great deal. He could not understand why she could not believe that she was talented. But then her claim of fucking seemed to just add an exclamation point to that thought. In the few weeks they had been together and the months they had known each other, not once had he even had a glimmer of thought that she thought such negative things about herself and anything else related to her. She was his confident love, who took everything in stride or who knew how to fix things with ease when it wasn’t going just write. Put simply, he did not know how to take her feeling inferior.
“Baby?” he muttered, eyes looking to her face.
Cady turned her attention away from watching the ocean below them, “Yes, Pete.”
He leaned forward and kissed her softly, “I love you.”
She smiled slightly, leaning in for another kiss, “I know you do.”
“And how do you know that?” he asked, pushing up the armrest between them so he could pull her easily into his lap and nuzzle her.
Closing her eyes, she leaned into his caresses, “Well… there is the fact you tell me all the time.”
“And?”
She slipped the bangle off her wrist she hadn’t removed since he placed it there or so Pete thought, “There are words on the inside of this.”
“Is there now?”
Cady held it up slightly, so that the small overhead lights shined through it, “And guess what it says?”
“What does it say?”
“It has about nine different words for love engraved on it,” she proclaimed and slipped it back on.
Smiling, Pete kissed her briefly, “That’s not nearly enough.”
“One would be enough,” she responded. “I’m so lucky to have you.”
Pausing in thought, he frowned slightly, “Now that I cannot find any evidence supporting. I don’t have a real job. I’m in more debt than you can possibly imagine. I can’t offer you a stable life or even a place to live at the moment. I’m told I’m moody and difficult to work with. I can’t see why you would be lucky to be with me.”
“We’ll find a place to live as soon as we can, Pete. I’m not worried. You do have a real job, not a conventional one, but a real one nonetheless. More importantly you’re doing what you want to do, not chained down to a desk or something because you think you should be. Every artist is moody, Pete. Hell, Jimi is one of the worst ones. I can handle moodiness,” Cady rebutted.
“You’re not moody and you’re the most talented artist I’ve ever known.”
Her eyes instantly left his, “No, I’m not.”
“Cady, why do you–”
“Because that’s what every single professor and student told me at art school, Pete,” she looked back at him. “That I was just a little rich girl who likely paid someone else to complete my assignments. That I never should have been in art school to begin with and wouldn’t have been if my daddy hadn’t bought my way in. They don’t think I have any talent and they’re ri–”
“More wrong than you can ever believe,” he interrupted. “Did you not submit a portfolio to get into school?”
“Yes, of course I did.”
“Did the school know of your financial background?”
“You would have to ask them.”
“Did the other students know?”
“Not until one of the girls blurted it out in life drawing class.”
Pete paused for a moment, “Was that girl the one we saw at the bar the other night?”
Cady leaned her head on his shoulder, her fingers gently playing with the buttons on his shirt, “Yes.”
“Is there more to that story than you’re telling me?”
“Yes.”
He reached up and brushed her hair from her face gently, “I won’t ask you any more about it. You can tell me when you’re ready.”
She took a breath, “I don’t want you to think I’m keeping things from you. I really don’t. But this… this really isn’t the place to talk about it. Just know that it has to do with… sex and administrators and my supposed lack of artistic ability.”
His curiosity was even triggered more, but he respected her declaration that it was not the time. He had a feeling sometime in the near future they would have to have a heart-to-heart. She already knew a great deal about him, as he had spilled so much while tripping those couple of… days. But now he felt like she was beginning to open to him. Why else would she have admitted her insecurities about her art? But she had just prefaced her artistic ability with the word ‘supposed.’ That had to indicate that she didn’t fully believe in what everyone said about her art.
“Pete, you can’t tell anyone that I have money. Not the band, not any of your friends or family. I don’t want them to judge me for it,” she stated softly.
He picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips, “Whatever you want, Cady. I don’t think they would judge you for it, but if you don’t want anyone to know, it will be our secret.”
“Thank you. We should stop at the bank before we go anywhere though. So I can withdraw some money for you to hold onto,” she suggested.
“You have a bank account in London?”
“Yeah. Daddy set it up when it became clear I wasn’t just spending a week or two in London with Jimi. Had I been given the choice, I probably would have stayed here and pursued you,” she claimed, her hand leaving his buttons alone to intertwine with his fingers.
“But?”
“I didn’t feel that you wanted me. And I… the last time I saw you, you were with Karen,” she answered.
He instantly frowned, lifting her hand to his mouth again to kiss it, “Cady, had I known you were interested in anything, I would have…”
She shook her head slightly, “Things happened how they were meant to be. Jimi killed me at Monterey; you brought me back to life, truly to life. It all happened how it was supposed to.”
“London will be new start for us. You’ll see,” Pete stated.
She smiled, “It’s where we started in the first place, Pete. It’s where we’re meant to be. Though… do you have any idea where we’re going to stay?”
He released her hand and reached up to brush her hair back again, “With my manager for a day or two until I can get us a flat. He has enough room for a few days. Plus Kit might have already collected my things from Karen, if we’re lucky.”
“If he hasn’t… don’t go without me.”
“I… are you sure about that?”
“I don’t want you to face her without me, even though I am the reason you broke off your relationship with her. I just… I just don’t trust what could happen if you went alone,” Cady stated, her eyes flicking to the flight attendant who paused to ask them if they needed anything. “I just get the feeling that she could get really nasty and I don’t want you to deal with that alone.”
“I hope she doesn’t become that person, but we’ll see. I wouldn’t want to go without you anyways. I want you with me always.”
She chuckled, “That just does not sound reasonable at all, Pete. We all need time without our soul mate.”
“Nah. I want you always.”
She quickly kissed him, “I want you always as well, but that doesn’t mean I need to be with you all the time. In fact, I need to be alone right now. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
Stepping away from the bank teller, Pete discreetly accepted the cash from Cady. He didn’t question her actions, not because he was completely comfortable with it, but because he understood. Her wealth made her uncomfortable, but not so much that she was going to avoid using it. He would keep her secret, play along with her charade. It would subtly make both of their lives easier. Hand on the small of her back, he guided her back out to the waiting taxi, kissed her briefly, and helped her back into the car.
She kissed him when he slid back in beside her, “I love you, Pete Townshend.”
He smiled, “I love you too.”
“Wheor tuh neeo?” the cab driver asked.
Taking a moment to translate the cabbie’s accent as he had become accustomed to the accents in New York, not London, Pete responded with Kit Lambert’s address. While the manager was aware of Pete’s return to London, having arranged the flight, no one had mentioned the couple would be crashing at his flat. Pete hadn’t even thought it needed to be discussed, that his manager would have an issue with it. He had slept in Kit’s apartment on a number occasions; this would be no different. Well it was different because of Cady, but it would not be so different that he was concerned.
“What’s Kit like?” Cady asked.
“Well… he’s definitely a mod. He has big ideas too. I think he feeds and pushes mine sometimes. He’s very fashion aware. Um… his dad is a classical composer…” Pete shrugged. “I don’t really know what else to tell you.”
“Well does he have a girlfriend or do I need to be carrying around a baseball bat to keep him away?”
He smirked, “Sweetie, he’s about as gay as your neighbors.”
Her eyes snapped to his, “You finally figured out I live in a building full of fairies?”
Pete nodded.
“Well good. That makes all things less complicated. You know my building mates are more likely to hit on you than me and I know I have to use my baseball bat to keep Kit away from you,” she remarked, before glancing out the window. “Where are we going to get a place, Pete?”
“I don’t know, baby. We’ll ask Kit what he thinks. We probably shouldn’t go out today, let ourselves adjust to this time zone,” he responded, reaching to hold her hand.
“The sooner we get a place the better. Plus we have to go rescue your things from Karen,” she turned to meet his eyes again. “I’m fine. I slept some on the plane.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Very much so. We’ll check in with Kit and then go find some place to live so we don’t impose on him long at all. Or no, let’s go to Karen’s first.”
“You really want to come with me?”
“Someone has to protect you, Pete,” she smiled and kissed him quickly as the cab pulled up in front of a building.
Requesting the driver to remain in case Kit wasn’t home and not wanting to lug the many pieces of luggage upstairs if that was the case, Pete lead Cady into the building and to Kit’s flat. He knocked and began to fidget slightly. Perhaps he should have rung up Kit and let him know they were on their way. Cady squeezed his hand gently, drawing his attention to her. She quickly stole a kiss as the door opened.
“Pete?”
He snapped back from Cady’s kiss to face his manager, “Afternoon, Kit.”
“Hello, Pete. Did you just get in?” he stepped to the side.
“Not long ago. We need some place to stay until we can find our own place. Can we stay here?” he quickly blurted out.
“Uh, of course,” he responded.
“Great. Can you give us a hand with our luggage?” Pete asked, turning to head back downstairs without waiting for a response.
Between the four of them, the copious number of suitcases was lugged up to Kit’s messy apartment. Pete made certain to tip the cab driver well, from the money Cady had slipped him earlier. He could tell by the way Cady was looking around the flat covered with piles of all sorts of kinds of papers and other objects that she was less than impressed with his manager. It seemed to be frustrating Kit as well, for the man had folded his arms over his chest and was staring at the beautiful young woman. Pete knew it was up to him to diffuse the situation.
“So, Kit, Cady and I were wondering where you suggest we look for a place to live,” he spoke up, drawing Kit’s attention.
“Who is Cady?” the manager replied.
“I am,” the tall brunette responded.
“Fuck. I’m sorry,” Pete stated. “Baby, this is my manager, Kit. Kit, this is my girlfriend, Cady Kersey.”
“Nice to meet you,” Cady struck out her hand.
Kit shook it slightly, “So you’re the one who kept Pete in the States.”
Even though she knew it wasn’t a question, she nodded, “I tied him up and kept him in my closet. It was fun.”
He looked at her without blinking for a couple of minutes before breaking into a smile, “Seems you’ll fit right in then, Miss Kersey.”
“Cady please.”
“Well, Cady, make yourself at home. My home is your home for as long as you need,” Kit declared.
“Thank you. But we hope to be out in a couple of days,” she stated. “You seem to have… a lot going on here. We don’t want to impose.”
Kit glanced at Pete, wondering to himself how it was that the guitarist managed to trade in an art school girlfriend for someone who seemed to be a few steps above not only Karen but everyone else in Pete’s life, “Whatever I can do to help.”
“Actually, do you think you can get us a van? I need to go and get my things from Karen’s,” Pete stated.
“Pete, we should actually see if there is anything to pick up first,” Cady interjected. “She could have thrown it all out.”
“Oh god. I hope not.”
Perhaps under a different circumstance, Cady would have been for more nervous about what they were about to do. But she fully believed in the strength of her affections for Pete. Plus she had seen Karen more than a few times and was fairly certain if it came down to it, she could outfight her without breaking a sweat. But as she followed Pete to the door, holding his hand to assure him of her presence and hopefully calm the nerves she felt bubbling up in him already, Cady was certain anything that could happen, they would overcome.
“Everything is going to be fine, Pete,” she muttered softly, squeezing his hand as they slowed to a stop in front of a door. “I love you.”
His eyes flicked to hers and he quickly kissed her, “Thank you. I love you too.”
Releasing Cady’s hand, he pulled out his set of keys. While he did not truly expect it would be as easy as unlocking the door, slipping in, and grabbing his things, Pete figured he should at least try. Stranger things had happened before. The key slid easily into the lock but did not turn. He hadn’t really expected it to and quickly removed it to knock. They hardly waited two minutes before the door opened.
Karen barely even looked at Pete, her eyes focusing on Cady instead, “What do you want?”
“We’re here for Pete’s things,” Cady stated evenly, her back and shoulders confidently straight.
“What makes you think I’m about to allow you in my apartment?”
The blue-eyed girl remained steady, “It’s the most prudent choice. Letting us in will allow you to move on from the hurt you feel because we will remove the greatest collection of things that remind you of Pete every time you see them about your flat.”
Pete was honestly impressed. Cady had not let any trace of emotion seep out in her words and she was appealing to Karen’s logic. While he was not entirely sure that was the best thing to do, given the emotional nature of the entire situation, it seemed to be working. Karen relaxed slightly and let the door fall completely open, allowing them passage. Glancing around Pete was a bit surprised to see boxes around the room and none of his things. Had Karen already taken the initiative to gather up his possessions and box them?
“These boxes are Pete’s?” Cady asked Pete’s silent question.
Karen nodded, “Everything that would fit into boxes at least.”
“Pete,” she turned to him, “you should call Kit and tell him to bring the van. Everything seems ready to go.”
“I… all right,” he headed towards the phone, not entirely sure if he should leave his girlfriend with his ex.
Cady however did not encourage his lingering and turned to checking the boxes, asking Karen what didn’t fit in them. The other woman quickly led her away, into the bedroom she formerly shared with Pete. That made Pete more nervous but he had a task to complete first before he could intercede. Quickly dialing the manager, he leaned stretched the phone cord as much as possible to see if he could spy on the two women. Unfortunately neither was in his sightline.
“Yeah, hey, Kit. Karen has apparently already packed up all of my things. So do you think you could come with the van?”
Looking in the closet, Cady nodded. A few of Pete’s suits still hung in there and a few guitars were stacked on the floor as well, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to have all the extra space once his things are gone.”
“I suppose so. Pete does take up a lot of space, especially with all of his recording equipment. No doubt he is already planning on getting more,” Karen commented, motioning to the stacks of electronics piled against the wall opposite the window. “He’s not as easy to live with as you might think.”
“He’s a Taurus. I’m aware of how bull-headed he can be and that there will likely be times when he doesn’t want to be around me,” Cady stated. “But I have loved him since I first saw him so many months ago, so I am certain we can work things out.”
She tilted her head to the side slightly, “When did you and Pete meet?”
“October of last year.”
“Oh.”
“Karen, I never pursued Pete as soon as I knew of you,” she claimed. “In fact the moment I found out about you, I put as much space between me and Pete as possible.”
“But when I saw the two of you at the festival…”
“I can’t speak for Pete nor would I even try,” Cady began, “but I can tell you that… Karen, I only went to the festival in hopes of seeing Pete again. Part of me was hoping I could then let him go if that’s what needed to happen, after pining for him for months. Part of me was hoping for something greater. It was the something greater that happened. And I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of it. I never wanted that. I’m sorry.”
Karen looked into Cady’s eyes for a moment before saying, “I accept your apology.”
Not expecting that at all, she couldn’t help but smile, “I hope someday you can forgive Pete too.”
“That will be harder.”
“I understand,” her eyes flicked to the door as Pete peeked in.
“Kit is on his way with the truck,” he stated, his eyes darting between the two women, expecting to see a potential nuclear explosion needing to be diffused.
Instead Pete watched as his girlfriend and ex-girlfriend embraced, whispering to each other. He had absolutely no idea how to process that. Weren’t they supposed to be deadly enemies? What was he missing?
Stepping over to Pete, Cady squeezed his hand, “I hope you and Kit have some clue of where we’re going to put everything, because it certainly isn’t going to fit in Kit’s flat.”
Standing in Kit’s messy living room, Cady stared at the small couch. Kit didn’t have a guest room, lived in a small one bedroom flat, and not that she could confirm that as she hadn’t even ventured opening the door to what was his bedroom to look. She had already shifted piles and restacked things just to find the couch. And Pete expected her to sleep on that? No way in hell was she about to do that. She would almost volunteer to sleep on the floor, but she had a feeling the gross hotels she and Jimi had stayed in before were safer to sleep on the floor than Kit’s apartment. There was no way she was going to be able to get a wink of sleep in the hovel.
“Oh wow,” Pete commented as he approached her. “You already made quite the difference in here.”
“Take me to a hotel, Pete,” she requested softly, her eyes going to his.
“The couch is–”
“Gross and I’m not sleeping on it,” she declared. “I want a real bed in some place I don’t feel like I need to wash my hands every two minutes. Take me to a hotel.”
“Baby, we don’t have much money,” he pointed out.
She would have argued against his statement had she not noticed Kit’s presence, clearly the reason Pete said what he had.
“I’ll pay for it,” Kit spoke up, drawing Pete’s eyes. “Not that I don’t want the two of you here, but Cady’s right. This really isn’t a space fit for visitors. Go take your woman to a nice hotel so the two of you can get some quality… sleep in before the tiring task of finding some place to live quickly so you can get to writing the next album.”
Hearing a lot more in his words than the actual words, Pete nearly started an argument. But instead he agreed to Kit’s suggestion, so much so he even allowed the manager to drive them to the nearest decent hotel. Kit signed the hotel papers before handing over the keys to Pete and telling him he would return in the late morning for both of them. They watched him exit the hotel before picking up the four suitcases they decided to bring with them for now.
“I hadn’t really expected Kit to put us up,” Cady stated softly as they stepped into the hotel. “I mean here. To pay for it.”
“He thinks we’re broke. Which he’s half right about,” he responded, setting down one of the cases to press the floor number. “That just means we’ve played it perfectly.”
She leaned over and kissed him briefly, “Thank you.”
He smiled, “To be honest, baby, I would have brought you directly to a hotel if I had any idea about Kit’s place being even more disastrous than I remember. I shouldn’t have even suggested we stay there.”
“It’s okay. You were being prudent,” she claimed, stepping out of the lift once the doors opened. “I know it’s not really like you to be so spontaneous. I’m impressed.”
“Are you now?” his brows went up as they headed down the hallway.
She turned to walk backwards, meeting his eyes, “I am. But you know what would impress me even more?”
“No. What?”
Cady stopped, catching his mouth in a quick kiss, “If you can make it through the night without ravishing me.”
Pete laughed, “Then I’m not even going to try and impress you tonight.”
“Oh well,” she sighed. “I suppose I’ll live.”
He dropped the suitcases inside the room and locked the door behind them, “Did you oppose staying with Kit merely because you wanted to jump my bones?”
“Perhaps,” she replied coyly.
Every instinct wanted to rush towards her, scoop her up in his arms, and toss her into the middle of the hotel bed. But loud voices in the back of his head screamed for him to not do such a thing. Not long ago she had claimed they fucked, not made love. Doing as he was urged in that moment would do nothing more than support her argument. No, he would not have sex with her that night or any time soon. Not until he could properly romance her, properly seduce her. He would not fuck Cady, no matter what she said. She deserved more and he was going to prove that to her by abstaining until it was perfect.
“On second thought,” Pete spoke as he approached her and kissed her softly, “I’ll meet your challenge. We’re not going to fuck. Ever again.”
Her eyes went to his, confusion filling her dark blue orbs, “What? I don’t understand.”
He kissed her once more, reaching down to release her hold on the suitcases, “I’m not going to fuck you, Cady. I’m going to make love to you, but not tonight. I’m going to romance and seduce you. I’m never going to fuck you.”
Her gaze wavered, “Pete, I…”
Quickly setting down the suitcases with the others, he returned quickly to her side. His hands framed her face, his thumbs catching tears he did not understand. He dipped in to kiss her lovingly, her hands going to his wrists, but not to remove his hands. She seemed to be clinging to him in some fashion, something he couldn’t understand.
“Do not cry, baby,” he muttered, kissing her tears. “Never cry.”
“Pete…” she uttered, falling fully into his arms. “I… I have known anyone like you.”
“Good. I don’t want to be like anyone else has been to you,” he responded. “I love you and I’m going to see that you are treated exactly as you always should have been, like the princess, the goddess you are. And it begins tonight.”
“Pete… will you just hold me?”
“Forever.”
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