2009.
Cannes, France.
Nikki and I are sitting in the sand below the break wall, the traffic behind us a low din. It's six o'clock at night and the sky is an orange hue, the sun still dipping below the horizon.
"What ya thinkin' about sexy?"
I look over at her and she looks back at me grinning, crossing her legs sexily. She's my wife; just over five feet tall, one hundred and ten pounds, blond and dressed in a slinky little cocktail dress, she's taken off her heels and digs her feet into the sand, leaning back on her hands. I laugh and grab her foot and she giggles, making a weak effort to get out of my hand.
It's our anniversary... thirteen years to be exact. We're in France for a charity event tomorrow where we have to sing a duet, something we don't do all the time. They said they wanted something we hadn't done before but something everyone knew. We had our lawyer and agent dig through our options and came up with "Up Where we Belong"; I was on speaking terms with Joe Cocker who held the rights at this point, so a phone call and a dinner got me the option and I took it.
I know, I know... it's pussy, wishy-washy and melodramatic... but we've done the song before back in high school. Back then we did it with just a piano for fun and that's what we'd do again tomorrow.
Fuck you... I won't rationalize my reasoning for this choice with you... besides... it's the first song she and I connected on...
Fuck you again... I know, I know...
"I'm thinking I want to taste these toes," I say, pulling her to me by her ankle and she cries out in surprise as I drag her across the sand, her dress riding up to her waist, revealing the little black thong she's wearing. I hear the click and whirl of camera's from behind us and I know the paparazzi are there, waiting for moments just like this; pantie shots.
I put her foot into my mouth as she laughs out loud and tugs her dress down. "You are INSANE," she cries out, stifling her laughter as I continue to gnaw on her toes and run my hands up her legs. She kicks out when I tickle the back of her leg and catches me in the chin and I fall back. "Oh my God," she yells, moving over me, pushing the hair out of her eyes.
"Are you OK baby?"
"UhnUhn," I groan, holding my face. "Oh Jeez baby, let me see," she says pulling away my hands and moving close to examine the no doubt brutal, growing bruise. I catch her, pulling her over me as she gives a yelp in surprise and I kiss her. She giggles and then deepens the kiss, tucking her hair behind her ear as she balances herself on her palms on either side of my head. Whirls and pops trigger behind us along with a faint cheer by onlookers; passion is still respected in France.
She pulls back and straddles me in the sand, looking down at my face, "Your silly tonight." I run my hands over her hips and nod, "I am... I'm happy."
She tilts her head quizzically, "Why? Why today?" I give her hips a squeeze and smile up at her, "Melody has the kids tonight... we're on a date... and tomorrow we do the first song we sang together." She laughed and patted my chest, eyeing me lovingly, "Baby...! The first song we did together was "Never Alone"!"
I wink up at her and shake my head, "Wrong baby... your talking albums... I'm talking farther back." She looks down at me surprised and settles back, a tear in her eye, "Oh my God... you remember that? After school...?" Nice... I made brownie points there; I grin and nod up at her, "I do... it's where you clicked for me."
"Awww," she groans, lowering her head to my chest; the cameras snap and click on, catching a private moment some writer fills with a caption of their own later and puts in a tabloid.
Her nails run along my chest, over my shirt and she nuzzles into me, listening to my heart...
It was 1994, at 4:30 in the afternoon in Newport, Rhode island. A cool breeze blew by outside the walkway and I sat at the piano in the large, circular dome shaped auditorium of Rogers High School.
I was leaner back then and less motivated; this music thing was over with graduation as far as I was concerned but I'd been spurred by the blonde from homeroom; Nicole Lumier.
She was a dancer and cheerleader in school, along with being highly focused on things like S.A.D.D.. She had to be though... her entire school year was driven by the need to acquire a scholarship to a private college, something imperative to her future education as her single mother had no other option to entertain.
I'd caught her singing in the hall the other day and told her about a music scholarship she could get easily enough if she joined the music club... it was bullshit but she was cute and frankly her voice... it was amazing. Untrained and raw, it sounded soulful and yearning so my mind spun at the thoughts of what she could do if she focused. I'd secured the auditorium for the night, with Mr. Tellibenum working in the sound booth, his eyes would be focused on us half the time so he OKed it.
"Ummm, hello," I heard her say and I looked up, spotting her at the base of the steps leading up to the stage; I waved her over with a smile and nodded to the bench I sat on, "Come on... grab a seat." She looked around with dismay and then put her bag down, taking a seat next to me, "Where's the club?"
I laughed and pointed up to the sound booth, where she saw Mr. Tellibenum who gave us a wave, "Relax Nicole... I promise to not chop you up and toss you off Cliff Walk." She laughed at that and blushed, relaxing a bit as she joggled two keys on the piano. "You play," I asked, surprised. She shook her head and tucked her hands into her lap nervously, "Gosh no... I tried awhile back but it was confusing." She frowned, looking around, "So... fine, your not going to kill me but seriously... where is this club?"