Chapter 6 Prepared
I text Terry, and I’m sure she’s with William, if not working in her small shop.
She had been with Will for two years. They first met at university, but nothing ever happened between them. Not like my other rotten childhood friend Darla, who drops her panties at every guy that shows up ready to fuck. Then after they graduated, they didn’t see each other again until two years ago when they bumped into each other on a night out with me. They have now been together ever since.
“Hey yourself.”
“We still on for dinner tonight?”
“We sure are,” I smile.
“Wonderful, so I’ll pick you up from your place at seven.”
“See you then.”
I hang the phone up with Terry and stare at my screen. I open Google and search for pictures of Natte.
I've already forgotten about my juicy mystery man.
I click on one, enlarging it on my screen. He’s bare chested, and he looks so incredibly beautiful.
Natte is lean but muscular, defined, with lovely slim hips. His hair is black, shaved close around the sides, longer on the top. He wears it high and messy. His hairstyle, on anyone else, would probably look silly, but not him. On him, it looks perfect. And in contrast to his black hair, his eyes are blue. Startlingly so, just like the colour of the ocean. If not for his style, I would have taken him for my great after dark guy.
He’s always had this cute little smattering of freckles over his nose, ever since I can remember. But now, they somehow make his gorgeous older edge even more apparent.
Natte is also covered in tattoos. He’s almost as famous for his tattoos as he is his music and bad boy antics. That’s the only thing that reminds me my mystery man has no tattoos. His skin is manly and toned.
Natte has a full tattoo sleeve on his right arm. Tattoos on his right arm, but his most distinctive tattoo, well for me anyway, is the one on his chest. It spans right across, sitting just below his collar bone, which says…
The only one, you stand no chance.
Sometimes I wonder just how true that statement is.
Looking back, I don’t know at exactly what point I knew I was in love with Natte. I guess I just always was.
My mum used to say when I were a toddler I followed him around like a puppy dog.
Natte and I were best friends, as close as you could get. And I know it was all he would have, and ever did, see me as, a kid. He was always way out of my league.
I guess the sad thing for me, or maybe in hindsight the best thing, was just as I was realising the depth of my feelings for Natte, he was gone.
One thing I do find amusing is knowing how Natte is with women nowadays. He’s basically a slut. But when he was younger, he was never interested in girls.
Back then, he was all about the music. I guess it was what bound us together. Well, that and the other stuff. The bad stuff in Natte’s life.
Natte was always heavily into music, as was I, thanks to mum.
I was spoon fed music. And my dad fed it to Natte too. I think to my dad, Natte was the son he never had.
My life was a little different than other kids. When their parents were teaching them to sing Twinkle, Twinkle, my dad was teaching me the lyrics to I Can’t Get No Satisfaction.
I was brought up listening to the likes of The Rolling Stones, Dire Straits, The Doors, Johnny Cash, and the Eagles, to name a few.
My mum tried to balance it out, bless her, but my dad lives and breathes music, and he is such a force in my life she never stood a chance. I love my mum, of course, but I absolutely adore my dad.
So because of my differences, and there were plenty of them, believe me, I never really fit in with any of the kids at school. Neither did Natte in the neighbourhood.
We were our own island, and when he left, I was left adrift for a long time.
My dad taught me how to play the piano. He tried with the guitar, but I could never get the hang of it. Natte, on the other hand, was an absolute natural on the guitar. My dad gave him his first six string when he was seventeen. He always said Natte was a born musician, so I guess it’s no surprise to him that Natte is as successful as he is.
My dad is really proud of Natte’s career.
He’s always said I should get in touch with him, but I brushed it off. So there is no way I’m calling dad to tell him I’m seeing Natte tomorrow. He’d probably try and come with me.
It’s going to be surreal seeing Natte after all this time.
I click off the picture and open another, a close up of his face. I stare at the picture, my eyes tracing the scar on his chin, the one which stretches along his jawline. It’s not as noticeable as it used to be. Maybe he covers it with makeup nowadays.
I know more about Natte than anyone. I know about a part of his past he’s managed to keep hidden away from the rest of the world.
Then a thought sweeps my mind. Maybe he won’t want to see me. Maybe he feels like he left behind the life he had here, and that’s why he dropped contact with me.
Maybe me, home, reminds him of a time he’d rather forget.
Natte had a pretty rough time growing up, which led to his dad going to prison when Natte was nineteen. Susie, Natte’s mum, remarried a few years later to a lovely man called Ben. He was a lawyer brought over from the firm’s office in New-York to work on a long term project in Texas where we lived. Then when Natte was thirty, Ben was offered a promotion back in their New York office, and he took it.
Six weeks later, Natte was gone.
And my heart was left broken.
With a resigned sigh, I click off Google and Natte disappears from my screen.
I force myself to open my Word document to get the questions compiled for tomorrow before I go to dinner with Terry tonight.
I don’t go to interviews unprepared. Especially if said
interview is with my father’s old best friend and the one time love of my life.