LoveandLogic
Refugee
Whoo, finally! The event you've all been waiting for! (Read on for further detail).
Through the maze of my mind, written for your eyes, here is the next chapter, with a shocking surprise! (How are these rhymes doing for you, btw?
)
Chapter Twenty
Everything pretty much went back to normal the next day. Brooke and I drank our coffee at ten and then walked around the city with our cameras, snapping every now and then if something caught our fancy. It was another beautiful day in NYC and although the days in France with Bono were more than beyond expectations, it felt good to be in the city, to hear the loud streets and be pushed by the hurried crowds. No matter where I was, New York somehow always remained my city of choice. There was just something unreal and comfortable about the sky scrappers and Lady Liberty acting as a mother with a watchful eye.
However, it wasn’t the same without Bono next to me. And though the city and me were one again, Bono and I seemed worlds apart. It had been two days of rushed phone conversations and sleepless hours. Whenever I did manage to fall asleep, my dreams were of him and I would awaken again, convinced that he was right there beside me.
We were in the same city, only blocks away, and no time available to find an hour or so to meet up for lunch or even a quick kiss. Bono would apologize, telling me in a sad, tiny voice that he was tied up with the music and the band. Who was I to go against it? Who was I to yell and get irate? It was his career, his soul. No one, not me, not the world, should have the authority to take that away.
Regardless, change of routine did eventually show it’s presence when the guys invited me and Brooke to join them in the studio the next day to take some photos. We were so excited that we showed up just as they started to work. Bono had his back towards the door, fidgeting with one thing or another and Edge and Larry came over to greet us. Larry mustn’t have minded the company, giving my best friend a long, lingering kiss shamelessly.
Brooke being with the drummer made me feel more relaxed around the group. I wasn’t the only girl in the band’s presence anymore. Selfish, I know, but a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. No longer would Bono and I be the center of attention. Hopefully conversations would be switched around towards Larry and his new growing relationship and put a halt to the lectures of “Bono being engaged and hanging around a twenty-three year old.” Quite frankly, the subject was getting old and worn.
Our eyes locked from across the room, my heart coming to an instant stop. He looked very relaxed in his black jeans and white t-shirt. His sunglasses were off for now as were his shoes. Walking towards each other like some odd, human magnetic force, we met in the middle and embraced, my arms tightening around him, praying to keep him in my arms and never let him go.
Pulling back only enough to kiss, our arms didn’t dare to separate. How pathetic, we had only been away from one another for two days-it dragged, it felt, so much longer than that. In his arms, so close to his body temperature, my world stood still. How badly did my want for his scent and his skin to chase away cruel reality! There was no where safer, no place more serene, than inside the diamonds of his eyes.
“I missed you, love.” He whispered, my senses tingling.
Humming in agreement, I kissed his Irish lips and allowed him to depart to join the mates behind the glass to being recording. Larry, Adam and Edge warmed up, tuning their guitars and drums while me and Brooke adjusted our cameras. Once they started playing, we quietly entered the studio and clicked away.
I found it an obstacle to not give all my attention to the singer. He was most beautiful when singing, his mouth moving easily, bellowing out high notes and sweet lullaby melodies. Moving towards Edge, he looked up at me with beautiful, blue-green eyes and winked. Adam pretended not to acknowledge me, failing in the end, flashing a cute, shy smile. For some reason, Adam hated the camera no matter how much the camera loved him. In fact, Adam is a very fun subject to capture with his spunky and laid back personality.
Sneaking behind Larry and snapping shots of his flying hands, his profile set perfectly into the lens, his jaw line and eyebrows sharp and eyes focused. Larry rarely paid attention to the lens. Quite depressing, really. Larry was a very fit, catwalk worthy sort of man, reminding me of James Dean or an all around “American Boy.” Simply put, he was pretty.
“So what do you think?” Bono asked once the song was finished.
I had goose bumps. “Beautiful! You’re heading towards a very fresh sound.”
“Good. I was a little worried.”
“What’s the song’s name?” Brooke chirped in.
“Levitate.” Bono answered her. “Not too sure about the lyrics…”
“I love ‘em!” I protested. “You know you can’t write a bad song. None of you can.”
“What about Party Girl?” Edge laughed, the rest of us following.
“I like Party Girl!” Honestly, I directed towards the guitarist. “It’s a fun song!”
With six different voices of glee consuming the room, Bono formed a serious moment of silence between us, his eyes thanking me, his body, I’m quite certain, yearning me.
We didn’t spend too much longer with the guys. Actually, we were kicked out by the managers, bodyguards and producers a half hour later. Over dinner, me and Brooke shared photos, swapping digital’s and studying the mini-screens. They turned out well, the colors in focus and vibrant. U2 and Paul McGuinness signed a release form so we could send off the photos to Rolling Stone after the editing process. A big chunk of money would be rewarded for sure. Somehow the money wasn’t important to me.
Later that night, alone in bed, a surge of loneliness dampened my relaxed mood. Finding myself in a big bed, the left side was the only side that ever got used anymore. Bono usually slept on the right. It didn’t fit well to sleep where he would. Sure, he’s never slept in my bed, but no matter where we sat or laid, he was always on the right.
Sitting up with my back against the fluff of pillows and a book, useless, in my hands, a knock at the door broke me apart from my daze. It was late, almost two in the morning. Surely Bono wouldn’t be showing up at this time of night.
To my utter surprise, sure enough, the most beautiful Irishman in all of the world stood at the other side of the door, his arms stretched wide over the space of the doorframe, a lovely, seductive smile on his face, his hips swayed to one side.
Without even saying a simple “hello,” Bono and I were at each other’s bodies, clawing and ripping like lions during mating season. Slamming me into the bedroom wall, Bono’s lips were teasing mine, sucking and biting my tongue and bottom lip.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” I cringed with pleasure. “I was just thinking about you.”
“What were you thinking of?” He growled against my neck.
“Everything. Your eyes, your body, your voice.”
“Really now? Were you fantasizing?”
I gulped hard. “Yes.”
“What was I doing to you?” Bono asked, pinning my arms above my head.
Feeling completely venerable under his spell and struggling to find the words to say, my body shook with such a powerful need screaming to be fulfilled. Finally, I spoke through gasps of air. “Everything.”
“What was that, love?”
Tease…
“You asked what you were doing to me. You were doing everything. I don’t care what you do to me, just do it.”
With an evil smirk, Bono kicked the bedroom door shut, mending my loneliness and curing all my ill-minded fantasies.
Tracing circles on Bono’s chest, his heart beat loudly underneath his skin and bones. Warm and strong, his body tangled around mine, our legs crisscrossed and hands roaming. New York City lights burned in through the closed curtains, illuminating my lovers face in disco colors of neon pink, blue, greens and yellows.
“This is so hard,” He spoke in the dark. “Being away from you. Not being able to call you when I want to.”
Nodding against his chest, I said. “I know, love. But it needs to be done. You knew this would happen eventually. Before you know it I will start a new job and we will see each other maybe once a week.”
“What job?”
Looking up at him, I mentally slapped myself. “Shit, I forgot to tell you. Brooke got me a job with Click Studios. I don’t have my own office or anything but they send me on assignments and I get to use their darkroom whenever I want and work from home. I’m thinking that maybe I should get a new apartment. This one is too stuffy to work in.”
“That’s wonderful!” He kissed my forehead. “At least you can work from home. It might be easier to see each other that way. It’s just…the guys are so eager to get this album out. I can’t be forced into it, you know what I mean?”
“Why do you feel forced?”
He sighed despairingly. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being selfish. Whenever I’m in that studio, all I can think about is your face and your kisses. When you’re not near me I’m suffering. I suffocate.”
“I feel the same way,” I promised through tears. “But you have to think of your fans and yourself. You need to finish this album. You owe it to the guys, to your fans and to yourself. Don’t bring down your passion just because we can’t spend every waking moment together. It would be selfish for the both of us to do that.”
Pulling me closer to him, Bono grunted lowly. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Could you do me a favor, though?”
“Of course.” I closed my eyes.
“Can we not talk about the real world right now? I want to spend the remaining hours of darkness in your lips. You taste better and better every time I see you.”
“Anything you say,” I smiled, my mouth folding against his.
Bono kissed me goodbye around eight the next morning and, when he was gone, I wrapped myself in the sheets, spreading across the side of the bed where the rock star slept, his scent surrounding me, the bedspread still warm from his body heat. Memories of the recent night swam wildly until sleep consumed my tired, limp body.
Not sure how long I have been out, a constant ring awoke me from my much needed sleep and, through hazy eyes, the screen flashed a number on my phone that I didn’t recognize. Flipping the phone open and rubbing the bridge of my nose, I answered annoyingly.
“Uh, yeah, hi there,” A soft, petite voice from the other end woke me. “I know you don’t me but I’m Olivia, Bono’s fiancée. Now, before you hang up I would really like to talk to you. I’m not going to be mean or anything.”
Sitting up, my heart thumped rapidly, like a rabbit on speed. “Yeah, sure. Hello Olivia. What can I do for you?”
“I was actually hoping that we could meet somewhere? I think I have something that belongs to you.”
Curiosity took the best of me. “Oh? Yeah, sure, we can meet. Where?”
“Well, I’m in Queens right now. What’s best for you?”
“Erm…I don’t know. Anywhere is fine, really. Fabianes Café in Brooklyn alright with you?”
“Sounds great. Meet you in an hour?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“See you then.”
“See you.”
Shutting the phone, the blood pumped through my veins, my face burning. Stuck in the same spot for minutes, my body must have forgotten how to move. Olivia, the Olivia, was wanting to meet me? Why? Was she going to tell me off? Call me every bad name in the book? Was Bono not talking to her? Was she trying to find him?
And what did she have for me? A nice slap in the face? Surely I deserved it. I’ve been sneaking around with her fiancée for the last three months. Either way, this was not my idea of a good time.
Thinking I spent too much time on my hair and makeup, I gave up after so long. Shit, I was meeting a model. I was screwed no matter what. Taking a subway into Brooklyn, I got off at the right stop and headed towards the café.
All the while shaking nervously, like meeting a long last parents, my blood flow surged, the palms of my hands sweating like mad. At a round table, faraway from the crowd as possible, sat a gorgeous, tanned, dark haired leggy woman. It had to be her. Even if I wouldn’t have seen pictures of her, I still would have known. She looked rich in appearance, dressed in a very expensive, dark blue dress. Large, gold hoop earrings hung down like moons on either side of her perfect, chiseled square face.
This was who I have been competing with? How could I win? She was a walking masterpiece! Any man’s ideal wet dream in the flesh!
Approaching slowly, our eyes met: brown to hazel. She smiled a dazzling, wide, perfectly straight toothed smile, her skin aglow from the sun. She shook my hand, her skin like velvet. Good God, was there at least ONE flaw to this woman?
“Hi, I’m Olivia.” She spoke friendly.
Nervously, I tried to smile back. “Hi. Jessica.”
“Please, join me. Would you like some coffee? Tea?”
“Vodka,” I joked, sitting down.
She laughed. “I don’t think they sell that here. It would be nice, though. Enough small talk. I’m sure you’re just as uncomfortable as I am right now.”
She was uncomfortable? Ha, could have fooled me! She sat so still, so angelically.
“I have to say,” She continued. “You’re very beautiful. I’ve only seen a few pictures of you from the magazines and such. Sometimes pictures can’t do a person justice. Take it form me. And no offense, but I had to see what I was up against.”
She read my mind. “Non-taken. I was thinking the same thing, actually. Listen, before another word is spoken, I just-”
“No,” She interrupted. “Let me talk first, please. You don’t need to apologize for anything. Bono is a very…how should I put this?” Olivia put a finger to full, cotton-candy lips. “He’s very independent. The man doesn’t give up on anything. And he’s extremely charming, so I can see how any girl could fall for him.”
“Sorry to intrude, but how old are you?”
The model seemed aback. “Twenty-two. Why?”
My heart dropped. Age difference affected Bono? My ass!
“No reason. Continue.” I urged on.
“Yes, well, anyways, I think I kind of always knew that Bono was in love with someone else. There would be times where he would be talking to me and all the sudden just…stop like he’s in a deep thought or something. When I met him he was very talkative, very open but the longer the relationship went on, he grew further away. And he would never tell me what was wrong or what was bothering him. He would smile that famous smile and say that everything was ok.”
Chuckling amusingly, I nodded. “I know that smile all too well.”
“You really are the Ohio girl aren’t you?” She asked suddenly.
“Yes, I am.”
“Wow,” Olivia huffed, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms casually.
“How did you know that?” I asked, squinting my eyes. “There was never really anything in the media. We kept it very hush. No names were given, no specific locations or dates.”
Worry spread across her picture-perfect face. Or was it sadness that I detected? Probably a mix of both. Sitting in silence for what seemed like hours, Olivia finally leaned over the side of her chair, picking something up from the ground. In both hands she held a stack of envelopes.
Setting them down in front of me, she grinned sorrowfully. “These are yours.”
Caressing the string around the stack of paper, tears swelled in my eyes. “My letters to him?”
“No,” She said. “Letters from him. I lost count after one-hundred and fifty. That’s the first batch, actually.” Once again she reached into her bag to reveal another stack. “This is the second. There has to be at least four hundred letters in all.”
“Did you read them?” I asked, never taking my tear-fogged gaze off the items in front of me.
“A few,” She admitted. “I didn’t know what they were at first. There’s no address on them. I found them in the closest in our house in Dublin. Hidden in a box. I was looking for some of my model shoots for a portfolio. Bono had stored a lot of our photos away in un-labeled boxes. I thought maybe the envelopes were bills or pictures. This was a few weeks ago. After the whole concert thing on the Brooklyn Bridge, I have to admit, I got a bit worried. I’ve seen him pull girls on stage, that’s normal for him. But for him to sing to one so passionately…that wasn’t like him. I’ve known him for awhile now. Enough to know when he sees a woman in a different light so to speak.”
Her words drifted in and out of my mind like the waves of the Mediterranean. They weren’t important. These letters, these address free letters mattered to me. All these years of unspoken words, of unanswered questions, of untold love and compassion were finally in my possession.
Gazing up at the girl across from me, I muttered a very sincere. “Thank you.”
She nodded. “You’re welcome. It didn’t seem right, you know, hiding these letters from you. Like I said, I’ve only read a few but the few that I did read were so deep. It’s like reading John Keats or Shakespeare. I couldn’t bring myself to finish them. They’re too personal, even for me.”
“I appreciate that. They must have been too personal for me to read, too. There has to be a reason why he never sent them.”
“He’s Bono,” She chuckled. “Sometimes he doesn’t have a reason for the things that he does.”
Crying now, Olivia dried her eyes and forced a smile. “I truly loved him, you know? A lot of people think that I dated him because of his fame. Truth is, I fell hard for him. He was everything I could ever hope for in a person. He’s strong, talented, loving, bright. I could be in the worst mood possible and he can always find a way to make things better. I’m sure you already know that, though.”
A surge of guilt rushed through my words. “I’m so sorry, Olivia. I never wanted it to be this way. I never wanted to break up an engagement or mess around with something that wasn’t mine. I’m not that type of girl.”
“It’s not your fault. Part of it is mine. I never gave him the type of love that he deserved. I cared more about my career and my figure than finding time to show him that I really loved him.”
Awkwardly, I shifted where I sat. “So…what do we do now? What goes from here?”
“I don’t know,” She shrugged her round shoulders. “To be honest, I really don’t know. I guess…I guess we leave it up to him and let the best girl win. And, to my disappointment, the best girl for him is you. Even I know that. Bono has never said anything to me that he says in those letters. But it’s not up to us anymore. It’s all Bono from here.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. You know, I’ve been trying to figure out who the other woman was in this case: you or me. I still can’t find an answer.”
She smirked. “Defiantly me. No question about it. It looks like I came in between something important.”
“But I came in between your engagement.”
“Bono doesn’t really love me. Even I can see that. Sure, he may care for me, but he sure as hell doesn’t love me. And that’s alright. I just want him to be happy.”
“I want him to be happy, too.”
Our eyes locked with a silent understanding. Then, throwing her bag around her shoulder, she stood up, shaking my hand again. “It was nice meeting you. I really mean that. You must be someone special to have captured a heart like Bono’s. It’s not easy.”
“Er…nice meeting you, too. And thank you for the letters. You don’t know how much it means to me. But before you go, how did you get my number? I’m pretty sure Bono didn’t give it to you.”
“Ha, are you kidding?” She snickered. “He doesn’t even know that I’m in New York. I got your number from a friend.”
“Who? Who do we both know?”
“Edge.” She simply answered, leaving me struck harder than any blow to the face. “Good luck with everything.”
“…yeah. You, too.”
And with that she was gone, blending in with the humanity of NYC. Once the shock wore off, I stuffed the letters into my purse and headed for the subway. How could Edge do that to me? Why would he do that to me? And to Bono? After all that we’ve been through, after all the support he’s given us, what on earth would posses Edge to betray me, to betray Bono, like that?
Finding a seat in the back corner on the subway, I dialed Edge’s number. No answer. I tried again and again and again until, after the tenth time, his familiar voice raced through my ears.
“Hey, are you alright?” He asked, sounding frantic.
“I need to see you.” Flatly, I told him. “And don’t tell me no. I need to see you. I’ll be home in half an hour. If you’re not there, I swear on everything that I am that I will drag my sorry ass to that studio and announce everything in front of everyone, including Bono. Understand?” I didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Good. See you then.”
Throwing my phone into my purse, it landed on the first stack of letters. With twitching fingers, I undid the twine and held the envelope with both hands, staring down at the blank white paper, tears strolling and landing on the object. Exhaling a kept in breath, I took out the previously read letter (Olivia had opened it already) and began to read:
My shining star,
You’re house is now a mere memory. The four walls of your room have faded away with every mile I travel in this crammed, uncommonly bus I dare to call a home. Never have I known a home until finding you. You dazzled me. In every shape and form, you molded me into the man I never thought I was capable of becoming. For years I have felt trapped inside a rock star’s body, no longer a man but an object to obsess over, a face to be tacked into a wall of the many bedrooms belonging to many women. None of them know me like you do now. Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself. In this last month I have discovered more about who I am, who I want to be. And it’s all thanks to you. You are my strength, my literal shelter from the storm.
Fading like Ohio snow are the features of your face: your honey glazed, almond eyes, your pale, creamy skin and small freckles that dance on your face whenever you laugh. I have a picture of you lying next to me on the guest bed. You know the one, you framed it in silver for me the night before I left. Five days have passed since that night and the roads seem endless- a timid, evil trail dragging me further and further away from the comfort of your arms, the hospitality of your smile.
My mates seem to think that I’m going insane. I’m beginning to think that they’re right. A maze of questions and secrets I have become. They all know about our affair, by the way. There is no point in hiding it from them any longer now that we’re out of the house and back on tour. They were supportive to my relief. Edge already knew so he took the news well. Larry, on the other hand, well, you know Larry, always the cynical one of the bunch. He was angry at first due to the fact of your age. He’s cooled down now and tries talking to me about the situation. Mostly I just listen anymore. And Adam was very laid back, as usual, nodding and talking at the right times.
They speak of you often. After all, they grew just as close to you as you have with them. It’s amazing how deep friendships can form and how fast they grow. You’re like a rose, my lovely girl, somehow always managing to find a way to bloom even in the coldest of days. I want to pick you and plant you in a garden of daffodils and clover, to ravish you in the most exquisite objects of beauty. There is a need deep inside of my heart to watch you grow and learn and love.
I never got to properly thank you. You brought out a part of me that I had hidden away for years, the part of me that yearns to love and to feel the same love in return. Although the guys see your age, I only see a woman. A woman with possession of great compassion, understanding and a grasp on what’s true. I’d like to think that our love has more of your personality than my own. Not to sound down on myself, I can be a bit thick and arrogant at times. You, however, are true, unselfish, pure and all heart. That’s how I want to remember our love: clean, deep, gentle like the oceans on a peaceful day. I want our love to be like sunshine-bright and warm and always in the reflection of your eyes.
Ah, yes, my dearest, I am a fool. A fool of many forms. Never will I be a fool to you. I promise you that much. Perfection isn’t something I do well, but loving you, I hope, is something that I have already done well. And I do love you, with every mile of this tedious path, with every breath of my breaking heart, with every sleepless night without your scent, I love you more and more and more...
Do not hesitate to write back, for your words are more precious to me than the hour itself. Your words will bring you to me, wrapped forever in a secure, hiding place in the depth of my soul.
Thinking of you often, hoping you’re still mine, staying yours truly,
Paul Hewson
Tight throated and eyes steamed with tears, I inhaled the scent of the ink, kissed his words and tucked the paper carefully back into it’s holder. Staring up at the map of the subway, I had missed my stop for the forth time…
Through the maze of my mind, written for your eyes, here is the next chapter, with a shocking surprise! (How are these rhymes doing for you, btw?
)Chapter Twenty
Everything pretty much went back to normal the next day. Brooke and I drank our coffee at ten and then walked around the city with our cameras, snapping every now and then if something caught our fancy. It was another beautiful day in NYC and although the days in France with Bono were more than beyond expectations, it felt good to be in the city, to hear the loud streets and be pushed by the hurried crowds. No matter where I was, New York somehow always remained my city of choice. There was just something unreal and comfortable about the sky scrappers and Lady Liberty acting as a mother with a watchful eye.
However, it wasn’t the same without Bono next to me. And though the city and me were one again, Bono and I seemed worlds apart. It had been two days of rushed phone conversations and sleepless hours. Whenever I did manage to fall asleep, my dreams were of him and I would awaken again, convinced that he was right there beside me.
We were in the same city, only blocks away, and no time available to find an hour or so to meet up for lunch or even a quick kiss. Bono would apologize, telling me in a sad, tiny voice that he was tied up with the music and the band. Who was I to go against it? Who was I to yell and get irate? It was his career, his soul. No one, not me, not the world, should have the authority to take that away.
Regardless, change of routine did eventually show it’s presence when the guys invited me and Brooke to join them in the studio the next day to take some photos. We were so excited that we showed up just as they started to work. Bono had his back towards the door, fidgeting with one thing or another and Edge and Larry came over to greet us. Larry mustn’t have minded the company, giving my best friend a long, lingering kiss shamelessly.
Brooke being with the drummer made me feel more relaxed around the group. I wasn’t the only girl in the band’s presence anymore. Selfish, I know, but a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. No longer would Bono and I be the center of attention. Hopefully conversations would be switched around towards Larry and his new growing relationship and put a halt to the lectures of “Bono being engaged and hanging around a twenty-three year old.” Quite frankly, the subject was getting old and worn.
Our eyes locked from across the room, my heart coming to an instant stop. He looked very relaxed in his black jeans and white t-shirt. His sunglasses were off for now as were his shoes. Walking towards each other like some odd, human magnetic force, we met in the middle and embraced, my arms tightening around him, praying to keep him in my arms and never let him go.
Pulling back only enough to kiss, our arms didn’t dare to separate. How pathetic, we had only been away from one another for two days-it dragged, it felt, so much longer than that. In his arms, so close to his body temperature, my world stood still. How badly did my want for his scent and his skin to chase away cruel reality! There was no where safer, no place more serene, than inside the diamonds of his eyes.
“I missed you, love.” He whispered, my senses tingling.
Humming in agreement, I kissed his Irish lips and allowed him to depart to join the mates behind the glass to being recording. Larry, Adam and Edge warmed up, tuning their guitars and drums while me and Brooke adjusted our cameras. Once they started playing, we quietly entered the studio and clicked away.
I found it an obstacle to not give all my attention to the singer. He was most beautiful when singing, his mouth moving easily, bellowing out high notes and sweet lullaby melodies. Moving towards Edge, he looked up at me with beautiful, blue-green eyes and winked. Adam pretended not to acknowledge me, failing in the end, flashing a cute, shy smile. For some reason, Adam hated the camera no matter how much the camera loved him. In fact, Adam is a very fun subject to capture with his spunky and laid back personality.
Sneaking behind Larry and snapping shots of his flying hands, his profile set perfectly into the lens, his jaw line and eyebrows sharp and eyes focused. Larry rarely paid attention to the lens. Quite depressing, really. Larry was a very fit, catwalk worthy sort of man, reminding me of James Dean or an all around “American Boy.” Simply put, he was pretty.
“So what do you think?” Bono asked once the song was finished.
I had goose bumps. “Beautiful! You’re heading towards a very fresh sound.”
“Good. I was a little worried.”
“What’s the song’s name?” Brooke chirped in.
“Levitate.” Bono answered her. “Not too sure about the lyrics…”
“I love ‘em!” I protested. “You know you can’t write a bad song. None of you can.”
“What about Party Girl?” Edge laughed, the rest of us following.
“I like Party Girl!” Honestly, I directed towards the guitarist. “It’s a fun song!”
With six different voices of glee consuming the room, Bono formed a serious moment of silence between us, his eyes thanking me, his body, I’m quite certain, yearning me.
We didn’t spend too much longer with the guys. Actually, we were kicked out by the managers, bodyguards and producers a half hour later. Over dinner, me and Brooke shared photos, swapping digital’s and studying the mini-screens. They turned out well, the colors in focus and vibrant. U2 and Paul McGuinness signed a release form so we could send off the photos to Rolling Stone after the editing process. A big chunk of money would be rewarded for sure. Somehow the money wasn’t important to me.
Later that night, alone in bed, a surge of loneliness dampened my relaxed mood. Finding myself in a big bed, the left side was the only side that ever got used anymore. Bono usually slept on the right. It didn’t fit well to sleep where he would. Sure, he’s never slept in my bed, but no matter where we sat or laid, he was always on the right.
Sitting up with my back against the fluff of pillows and a book, useless, in my hands, a knock at the door broke me apart from my daze. It was late, almost two in the morning. Surely Bono wouldn’t be showing up at this time of night.
To my utter surprise, sure enough, the most beautiful Irishman in all of the world stood at the other side of the door, his arms stretched wide over the space of the doorframe, a lovely, seductive smile on his face, his hips swayed to one side.
Without even saying a simple “hello,” Bono and I were at each other’s bodies, clawing and ripping like lions during mating season. Slamming me into the bedroom wall, Bono’s lips were teasing mine, sucking and biting my tongue and bottom lip.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” I cringed with pleasure. “I was just thinking about you.”
“What were you thinking of?” He growled against my neck.
“Everything. Your eyes, your body, your voice.”
“Really now? Were you fantasizing?”
I gulped hard. “Yes.”
“What was I doing to you?” Bono asked, pinning my arms above my head.
Feeling completely venerable under his spell and struggling to find the words to say, my body shook with such a powerful need screaming to be fulfilled. Finally, I spoke through gasps of air. “Everything.”
“What was that, love?”
Tease…
“You asked what you were doing to me. You were doing everything. I don’t care what you do to me, just do it.”
With an evil smirk, Bono kicked the bedroom door shut, mending my loneliness and curing all my ill-minded fantasies.
Tracing circles on Bono’s chest, his heart beat loudly underneath his skin and bones. Warm and strong, his body tangled around mine, our legs crisscrossed and hands roaming. New York City lights burned in through the closed curtains, illuminating my lovers face in disco colors of neon pink, blue, greens and yellows.
“This is so hard,” He spoke in the dark. “Being away from you. Not being able to call you when I want to.”
Nodding against his chest, I said. “I know, love. But it needs to be done. You knew this would happen eventually. Before you know it I will start a new job and we will see each other maybe once a week.”
“What job?”
Looking up at him, I mentally slapped myself. “Shit, I forgot to tell you. Brooke got me a job with Click Studios. I don’t have my own office or anything but they send me on assignments and I get to use their darkroom whenever I want and work from home. I’m thinking that maybe I should get a new apartment. This one is too stuffy to work in.”
“That’s wonderful!” He kissed my forehead. “At least you can work from home. It might be easier to see each other that way. It’s just…the guys are so eager to get this album out. I can’t be forced into it, you know what I mean?”
“Why do you feel forced?”
He sighed despairingly. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being selfish. Whenever I’m in that studio, all I can think about is your face and your kisses. When you’re not near me I’m suffering. I suffocate.”
“I feel the same way,” I promised through tears. “But you have to think of your fans and yourself. You need to finish this album. You owe it to the guys, to your fans and to yourself. Don’t bring down your passion just because we can’t spend every waking moment together. It would be selfish for the both of us to do that.”
Pulling me closer to him, Bono grunted lowly. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. Could you do me a favor, though?”
“Of course.” I closed my eyes.
“Can we not talk about the real world right now? I want to spend the remaining hours of darkness in your lips. You taste better and better every time I see you.”
“Anything you say,” I smiled, my mouth folding against his.
Bono kissed me goodbye around eight the next morning and, when he was gone, I wrapped myself in the sheets, spreading across the side of the bed where the rock star slept, his scent surrounding me, the bedspread still warm from his body heat. Memories of the recent night swam wildly until sleep consumed my tired, limp body.
Not sure how long I have been out, a constant ring awoke me from my much needed sleep and, through hazy eyes, the screen flashed a number on my phone that I didn’t recognize. Flipping the phone open and rubbing the bridge of my nose, I answered annoyingly.
“Uh, yeah, hi there,” A soft, petite voice from the other end woke me. “I know you don’t me but I’m Olivia, Bono’s fiancée. Now, before you hang up I would really like to talk to you. I’m not going to be mean or anything.”
Sitting up, my heart thumped rapidly, like a rabbit on speed. “Yeah, sure. Hello Olivia. What can I do for you?”
“I was actually hoping that we could meet somewhere? I think I have something that belongs to you.”
Curiosity took the best of me. “Oh? Yeah, sure, we can meet. Where?”
“Well, I’m in Queens right now. What’s best for you?”
“Erm…I don’t know. Anywhere is fine, really. Fabianes Café in Brooklyn alright with you?”
“Sounds great. Meet you in an hour?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“See you then.”
“See you.”
Shutting the phone, the blood pumped through my veins, my face burning. Stuck in the same spot for minutes, my body must have forgotten how to move. Olivia, the Olivia, was wanting to meet me? Why? Was she going to tell me off? Call me every bad name in the book? Was Bono not talking to her? Was she trying to find him?
And what did she have for me? A nice slap in the face? Surely I deserved it. I’ve been sneaking around with her fiancée for the last three months. Either way, this was not my idea of a good time.
Thinking I spent too much time on my hair and makeup, I gave up after so long. Shit, I was meeting a model. I was screwed no matter what. Taking a subway into Brooklyn, I got off at the right stop and headed towards the café.
All the while shaking nervously, like meeting a long last parents, my blood flow surged, the palms of my hands sweating like mad. At a round table, faraway from the crowd as possible, sat a gorgeous, tanned, dark haired leggy woman. It had to be her. Even if I wouldn’t have seen pictures of her, I still would have known. She looked rich in appearance, dressed in a very expensive, dark blue dress. Large, gold hoop earrings hung down like moons on either side of her perfect, chiseled square face.
This was who I have been competing with? How could I win? She was a walking masterpiece! Any man’s ideal wet dream in the flesh!
Approaching slowly, our eyes met: brown to hazel. She smiled a dazzling, wide, perfectly straight toothed smile, her skin aglow from the sun. She shook my hand, her skin like velvet. Good God, was there at least ONE flaw to this woman?
“Hi, I’m Olivia.” She spoke friendly.
Nervously, I tried to smile back. “Hi. Jessica.”
“Please, join me. Would you like some coffee? Tea?”
“Vodka,” I joked, sitting down.
She laughed. “I don’t think they sell that here. It would be nice, though. Enough small talk. I’m sure you’re just as uncomfortable as I am right now.”
She was uncomfortable? Ha, could have fooled me! She sat so still, so angelically.
“I have to say,” She continued. “You’re very beautiful. I’ve only seen a few pictures of you from the magazines and such. Sometimes pictures can’t do a person justice. Take it form me. And no offense, but I had to see what I was up against.”
She read my mind. “Non-taken. I was thinking the same thing, actually. Listen, before another word is spoken, I just-”
“No,” She interrupted. “Let me talk first, please. You don’t need to apologize for anything. Bono is a very…how should I put this?” Olivia put a finger to full, cotton-candy lips. “He’s very independent. The man doesn’t give up on anything. And he’s extremely charming, so I can see how any girl could fall for him.”
“Sorry to intrude, but how old are you?”
The model seemed aback. “Twenty-two. Why?”
My heart dropped. Age difference affected Bono? My ass!
“No reason. Continue.” I urged on.
“Yes, well, anyways, I think I kind of always knew that Bono was in love with someone else. There would be times where he would be talking to me and all the sudden just…stop like he’s in a deep thought or something. When I met him he was very talkative, very open but the longer the relationship went on, he grew further away. And he would never tell me what was wrong or what was bothering him. He would smile that famous smile and say that everything was ok.”
Chuckling amusingly, I nodded. “I know that smile all too well.”
“You really are the Ohio girl aren’t you?” She asked suddenly.
“Yes, I am.”
“Wow,” Olivia huffed, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms casually.
“How did you know that?” I asked, squinting my eyes. “There was never really anything in the media. We kept it very hush. No names were given, no specific locations or dates.”
Worry spread across her picture-perfect face. Or was it sadness that I detected? Probably a mix of both. Sitting in silence for what seemed like hours, Olivia finally leaned over the side of her chair, picking something up from the ground. In both hands she held a stack of envelopes.
Setting them down in front of me, she grinned sorrowfully. “These are yours.”
Caressing the string around the stack of paper, tears swelled in my eyes. “My letters to him?”
“No,” She said. “Letters from him. I lost count after one-hundred and fifty. That’s the first batch, actually.” Once again she reached into her bag to reveal another stack. “This is the second. There has to be at least four hundred letters in all.”
“Did you read them?” I asked, never taking my tear-fogged gaze off the items in front of me.
“A few,” She admitted. “I didn’t know what they were at first. There’s no address on them. I found them in the closest in our house in Dublin. Hidden in a box. I was looking for some of my model shoots for a portfolio. Bono had stored a lot of our photos away in un-labeled boxes. I thought maybe the envelopes were bills or pictures. This was a few weeks ago. After the whole concert thing on the Brooklyn Bridge, I have to admit, I got a bit worried. I’ve seen him pull girls on stage, that’s normal for him. But for him to sing to one so passionately…that wasn’t like him. I’ve known him for awhile now. Enough to know when he sees a woman in a different light so to speak.”
Her words drifted in and out of my mind like the waves of the Mediterranean. They weren’t important. These letters, these address free letters mattered to me. All these years of unspoken words, of unanswered questions, of untold love and compassion were finally in my possession.
Gazing up at the girl across from me, I muttered a very sincere. “Thank you.”
She nodded. “You’re welcome. It didn’t seem right, you know, hiding these letters from you. Like I said, I’ve only read a few but the few that I did read were so deep. It’s like reading John Keats or Shakespeare. I couldn’t bring myself to finish them. They’re too personal, even for me.”
“I appreciate that. They must have been too personal for me to read, too. There has to be a reason why he never sent them.”
“He’s Bono,” She chuckled. “Sometimes he doesn’t have a reason for the things that he does.”
Crying now, Olivia dried her eyes and forced a smile. “I truly loved him, you know? A lot of people think that I dated him because of his fame. Truth is, I fell hard for him. He was everything I could ever hope for in a person. He’s strong, talented, loving, bright. I could be in the worst mood possible and he can always find a way to make things better. I’m sure you already know that, though.”
A surge of guilt rushed through my words. “I’m so sorry, Olivia. I never wanted it to be this way. I never wanted to break up an engagement or mess around with something that wasn’t mine. I’m not that type of girl.”
“It’s not your fault. Part of it is mine. I never gave him the type of love that he deserved. I cared more about my career and my figure than finding time to show him that I really loved him.”
Awkwardly, I shifted where I sat. “So…what do we do now? What goes from here?”
“I don’t know,” She shrugged her round shoulders. “To be honest, I really don’t know. I guess…I guess we leave it up to him and let the best girl win. And, to my disappointment, the best girl for him is you. Even I know that. Bono has never said anything to me that he says in those letters. But it’s not up to us anymore. It’s all Bono from here.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. You know, I’ve been trying to figure out who the other woman was in this case: you or me. I still can’t find an answer.”
She smirked. “Defiantly me. No question about it. It looks like I came in between something important.”
“But I came in between your engagement.”
“Bono doesn’t really love me. Even I can see that. Sure, he may care for me, but he sure as hell doesn’t love me. And that’s alright. I just want him to be happy.”
“I want him to be happy, too.”
Our eyes locked with a silent understanding. Then, throwing her bag around her shoulder, she stood up, shaking my hand again. “It was nice meeting you. I really mean that. You must be someone special to have captured a heart like Bono’s. It’s not easy.”
“Er…nice meeting you, too. And thank you for the letters. You don’t know how much it means to me. But before you go, how did you get my number? I’m pretty sure Bono didn’t give it to you.”
“Ha, are you kidding?” She snickered. “He doesn’t even know that I’m in New York. I got your number from a friend.”
“Who? Who do we both know?”
“Edge.” She simply answered, leaving me struck harder than any blow to the face. “Good luck with everything.”
“…yeah. You, too.”
And with that she was gone, blending in with the humanity of NYC. Once the shock wore off, I stuffed the letters into my purse and headed for the subway. How could Edge do that to me? Why would he do that to me? And to Bono? After all that we’ve been through, after all the support he’s given us, what on earth would posses Edge to betray me, to betray Bono, like that?
Finding a seat in the back corner on the subway, I dialed Edge’s number. No answer. I tried again and again and again until, after the tenth time, his familiar voice raced through my ears.
“Hey, are you alright?” He asked, sounding frantic.
“I need to see you.” Flatly, I told him. “And don’t tell me no. I need to see you. I’ll be home in half an hour. If you’re not there, I swear on everything that I am that I will drag my sorry ass to that studio and announce everything in front of everyone, including Bono. Understand?” I didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Good. See you then.”
Throwing my phone into my purse, it landed on the first stack of letters. With twitching fingers, I undid the twine and held the envelope with both hands, staring down at the blank white paper, tears strolling and landing on the object. Exhaling a kept in breath, I took out the previously read letter (Olivia had opened it already) and began to read:
My shining star,
You’re house is now a mere memory. The four walls of your room have faded away with every mile I travel in this crammed, uncommonly bus I dare to call a home. Never have I known a home until finding you. You dazzled me. In every shape and form, you molded me into the man I never thought I was capable of becoming. For years I have felt trapped inside a rock star’s body, no longer a man but an object to obsess over, a face to be tacked into a wall of the many bedrooms belonging to many women. None of them know me like you do now. Sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself. In this last month I have discovered more about who I am, who I want to be. And it’s all thanks to you. You are my strength, my literal shelter from the storm.
Fading like Ohio snow are the features of your face: your honey glazed, almond eyes, your pale, creamy skin and small freckles that dance on your face whenever you laugh. I have a picture of you lying next to me on the guest bed. You know the one, you framed it in silver for me the night before I left. Five days have passed since that night and the roads seem endless- a timid, evil trail dragging me further and further away from the comfort of your arms, the hospitality of your smile.
My mates seem to think that I’m going insane. I’m beginning to think that they’re right. A maze of questions and secrets I have become. They all know about our affair, by the way. There is no point in hiding it from them any longer now that we’re out of the house and back on tour. They were supportive to my relief. Edge already knew so he took the news well. Larry, on the other hand, well, you know Larry, always the cynical one of the bunch. He was angry at first due to the fact of your age. He’s cooled down now and tries talking to me about the situation. Mostly I just listen anymore. And Adam was very laid back, as usual, nodding and talking at the right times.
They speak of you often. After all, they grew just as close to you as you have with them. It’s amazing how deep friendships can form and how fast they grow. You’re like a rose, my lovely girl, somehow always managing to find a way to bloom even in the coldest of days. I want to pick you and plant you in a garden of daffodils and clover, to ravish you in the most exquisite objects of beauty. There is a need deep inside of my heart to watch you grow and learn and love.
I never got to properly thank you. You brought out a part of me that I had hidden away for years, the part of me that yearns to love and to feel the same love in return. Although the guys see your age, I only see a woman. A woman with possession of great compassion, understanding and a grasp on what’s true. I’d like to think that our love has more of your personality than my own. Not to sound down on myself, I can be a bit thick and arrogant at times. You, however, are true, unselfish, pure and all heart. That’s how I want to remember our love: clean, deep, gentle like the oceans on a peaceful day. I want our love to be like sunshine-bright and warm and always in the reflection of your eyes.
Ah, yes, my dearest, I am a fool. A fool of many forms. Never will I be a fool to you. I promise you that much. Perfection isn’t something I do well, but loving you, I hope, is something that I have already done well. And I do love you, with every mile of this tedious path, with every breath of my breaking heart, with every sleepless night without your scent, I love you more and more and more...
Do not hesitate to write back, for your words are more precious to me than the hour itself. Your words will bring you to me, wrapped forever in a secure, hiding place in the depth of my soul.
Thinking of you often, hoping you’re still mine, staying yours truly,
Paul Hewson
Tight throated and eyes steamed with tears, I inhaled the scent of the ink, kissed his words and tucked the paper carefully back into it’s holder. Staring up at the map of the subway, I had missed my stop for the forth time…
)
x 10000000!!!
I think Bono was trying to recreate Jess 
