spanna
The Fly
Sorry took a while posting this. Thanks again to those who have commented so far. Right...without further ado:
Chapter Three
Note: This chapter is Grace as the first person
2nd October, 11.30 am
I roll onto Bono’s side of the bed which is empty and cool. He obviously left it a while ago, I lazily bury my face into his pillow inhaling that smoky, slightly alcoholic, expensive aftershave that contributes to Bono’s unique scent. Mmmmm.
It takes me a good while to rise, I’m not the morning person that he is. Adrenalin and unstoppable energy has that man moving and talking constantly. I on the other hand am far more introverted, quiet and just do not have the same endless vigour that he does. Somehow, we balance each other out.
Bono’s note is stuck to the mirror, I sleepily read his adorably messy scrawl:
“Love, I’m off to meet Edge, I’m sorry but I just woke up with this amazing melody. He’s picking me up at 7.45 am, we’re off to the studio. Promise to be back by 12.00, I’ll get food while I’m out. Dogs haven’t been walked yet. You’re so beautiful… love you. Xxx
I sigh, slightly pissed off at his ability to melt me even in writing. We had planned to spend the weekend together home as we haven’t done it for months as he’d been so busy. He was well aware of this, god damn him!
I head downstairs where the dogs are both restless, Bessie especially.
‘Hey cool down big mama,’ I say to her gently ‘I will take you for a walk as soon as I’ve had some breakfast.’
Bessie goes round in circles like crazy, so I get ready quickly and take them out. Bessie pulls and strains hard on the lead, Oscar’s more placid. We go through the person gate. On the other side is Bono’s familiar Armani wallet. I smile to myself, typical Bono and let myself through the gate to pick it up. Nothing’s been stolen from it but that’s no surprise, the Canadian ambassador and Enya (our two neighbours) who aren’t exactly on the breadline.
Bessie is still behaving frantically.
‘Silly dog,’ I say ‘come on!’ Bono’s never had her spayed so I put it down to her being on heat.
We walk swiftly down to Killiney Bay. We don’t spend long there, it’s freezing cold and the shattering, driving rain seems to have no intention of letting up. We get back drenched, I hose and towel the dogs before shutting them in the big room with food and then do the same for myself.
12.00 pm
As it is midday by the time I go back into the kitchen, I call The Edge on his mobile as I realise that Bono has left his here. I need to ask whether there’s any point starting lunch yet or if they’ll be working for the rest of the afternoon as is their want.
‘Hello?’ Edge’s gentle, warm voice answers.
‘Edge, hi,’ I respond, I still haven’t really got used to being on such close terms with my favourite guitarist though he’s made me feel so welcome ‘I was wondering, for how much longer are you and Bono gonna be working together today? Need to know whether to cook for us or not.’
‘Bono?’ Edge says bemused ‘he’s not with me sweetie.’
‘But, but,’ I say trying to resist my instinct to panic ‘he left me a note to say that you were picking him up at 7.45 am and you were going down to the studio.’
‘What is going on?’ The Edge wonders rhetorically ‘I texted him late last night to say no meeting was possible this weekend, Morleigh and I are having the girls over. I just assumed he hadn’t had a chance to respond.’
‘But how else would he have got a message saying you were free?’ I say unable to keep the note of fear out of my voice.
‘I don’t know but my gut tells me it’s not good though my rational mind is saying it’s Bono doing a Bono.’
‘Oh great, he’s leaving me!’ I said instantly female and neurotic, I was also aware that doing a Bono within the band was doing a runner to everyone else.
‘Don’t talk crap, he loves yer Grace’ The Edge replies and then says very softly so that I have to clamp the receiver to my ear to hear him properly ‘loves yer more than any girl he’s ever known. He told me two nights ago and no he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol that day.’
I give an involuntary shiver and a tear threatens to escape my left eye.
‘Anyway, our other in-band definition of doing a Bono is doing something spectacularly extravagant but it’s always very spontaneous and doesn’t happen often,’ Edge laughs softly ‘only reserved for his girls or close friends for birthday or Christmas gifts.’
‘But Edge,’ I say ‘it was my birthday a month ago! He couldn’t possibly top the insane things he did for me then.’
Bono had flown me to The Bahamas to a tiny but expensively furnished beach shack for a week on an exclusive beach. God, it had been heavenly if overly decadent.
‘True,’ The Edge says ponderously and then I hear a low whistle.
‘What?’ I ask my panic returning ‘what’s happened?’
‘Well I’m just checking my emails…’ he begins slowly.
‘Hurry Edge,’ I say in an agony of suspense.
‘There’s a reply from Bono to an email that I allegedly sent at 7.15 to say that me picking him up will be great and he can’t wait to discuss melody and song ideas. The email I sent is below and holy fuck, “I” has said I’ll be picking him up in a new Mercedes. This is all wrong, I never said anything of the sort. Grace, don’t panic but I’m coming over now and I’m bringing the police.’
‘What could have happened?’ I splutter, terrified thoughts spilling over each other in my head ‘other than the fact your account’s been hacked into, why would someone do that?’
‘No idea, but I have a feeling our more neurotic instincts are proving
correct,’ says Edge ‘I’ll be right over, make yerself a drink.’
He hangs up and I sit down on a kitchen chair, my chest tightening so much that I feel I can’t breathe. I shakily make myself a coffee though I keep telling myself that I shouldn’t freak out like this. It was probably two silly computer geeks who had managed to hack into two rockstars’ email accounts and thought they’d play a prank. Bono will be fine I say firmly to myself and take a long drink of the coffee.
Half an hour or so later, there’s a knock at the door and I go quickly to answer it, Edge is in front of me with his customary beanie on his head and beside him is tall, thin man with thinning hair and glasses.
‘Edge!’ I exclaim and he hugs me tight, it’s not a Bono hug but it’s reassuring in its own way!
‘Come in,’ I say ‘ can’t go forgetting my manners.’
The Edge introduces us
‘Mr Benton this is Bono’s girlfriend of ten months Grace McIntyre. Grace this is Private Detective Benton who is also an online expert.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ I say forcing a cordial smile ‘thank you for coming so quickly.’
‘And you,’ responds the detective in a stiff, formal English accent ‘now were you aware that there were skid marks outside your gates that indicate a very sudden stop? The rain had also loosened the gravel that made it obvious to see that there had been a struggle.’
‘A struggle? Skid marks? ’ I whisper thinking I’d found myself on the set of Midsummer Murders or Morse ‘good God. I took the dogs out through the person gate this morning, I found Bono’s wallet but I guess the dogs kept me distracted. I certainly noticed noth-…’
Mr Benson cuts across me
‘Yes, well that’s to be expected I suppose. But it certainly was a struggle between at least two men…Bono was definitely one of them,’ he smiles a wry, slightly cruel smile ‘I can safely say that it was a very violent struggle as it resulted in the ruin of these.’
He takes out of his pocket a pair of crushed Bvlgari sunglasses.
I shudder and Edge puts a comforting arm around me. Fear seems to be enveloping me in a dark shroud, what is it with this man? He seems to revel in describing it as if he feels “that Irish rockstar is finally getting his comeuppance!”
‘And that I can also safely say with not so much as a niggling, tiny doubt that your partner Miss McIntyre was kidnapped this morning at approximately 7.45 am. I met the Canadian Ambassador’s maid just before I entered here who said she’d been making the tea. She heard a very fast car drive off from here not that she thought of it as anything unusual but at least we have the time.’
I almost fall backwards, nausea filling me up, dizziness making it hard for me to see. Mr Benton’s voice is faraway, droning on. This must be a bad dream, at any moment I’ll wake up in Bono’s arms and he’ll tease me for shaking and sweating at a nightmare. It’s just a nightmare.
2.00 pm
‘The poor baby,’ the familiar Californian drawl of Edge’s wife Morleigh is the sound I slowly wake up to.
My forehead is being dabbed with a cool flannel and everything comes back to me in a sickening flashback.
‘Will he be alright Morleigh?’ I ask before I can stop myself sounding like a small, pathetic child.
‘We don’t know,’ she says honestly ‘but we must have faith.’
Chapter Three
Note: This chapter is Grace as the first person
2nd October, 11.30 am
I roll onto Bono’s side of the bed which is empty and cool. He obviously left it a while ago, I lazily bury my face into his pillow inhaling that smoky, slightly alcoholic, expensive aftershave that contributes to Bono’s unique scent. Mmmmm.
It takes me a good while to rise, I’m not the morning person that he is. Adrenalin and unstoppable energy has that man moving and talking constantly. I on the other hand am far more introverted, quiet and just do not have the same endless vigour that he does. Somehow, we balance each other out.
Bono’s note is stuck to the mirror, I sleepily read his adorably messy scrawl:
“Love, I’m off to meet Edge, I’m sorry but I just woke up with this amazing melody. He’s picking me up at 7.45 am, we’re off to the studio. Promise to be back by 12.00, I’ll get food while I’m out. Dogs haven’t been walked yet. You’re so beautiful… love you. Xxx
I sigh, slightly pissed off at his ability to melt me even in writing. We had planned to spend the weekend together home as we haven’t done it for months as he’d been so busy. He was well aware of this, god damn him!
I head downstairs where the dogs are both restless, Bessie especially.
‘Hey cool down big mama,’ I say to her gently ‘I will take you for a walk as soon as I’ve had some breakfast.’
Bessie goes round in circles like crazy, so I get ready quickly and take them out. Bessie pulls and strains hard on the lead, Oscar’s more placid. We go through the person gate. On the other side is Bono’s familiar Armani wallet. I smile to myself, typical Bono and let myself through the gate to pick it up. Nothing’s been stolen from it but that’s no surprise, the Canadian ambassador and Enya (our two neighbours) who aren’t exactly on the breadline.
Bessie is still behaving frantically.
‘Silly dog,’ I say ‘come on!’ Bono’s never had her spayed so I put it down to her being on heat.
We walk swiftly down to Killiney Bay. We don’t spend long there, it’s freezing cold and the shattering, driving rain seems to have no intention of letting up. We get back drenched, I hose and towel the dogs before shutting them in the big room with food and then do the same for myself.
12.00 pm
As it is midday by the time I go back into the kitchen, I call The Edge on his mobile as I realise that Bono has left his here. I need to ask whether there’s any point starting lunch yet or if they’ll be working for the rest of the afternoon as is their want.
‘Hello?’ Edge’s gentle, warm voice answers.
‘Edge, hi,’ I respond, I still haven’t really got used to being on such close terms with my favourite guitarist though he’s made me feel so welcome ‘I was wondering, for how much longer are you and Bono gonna be working together today? Need to know whether to cook for us or not.’
‘Bono?’ Edge says bemused ‘he’s not with me sweetie.’
‘But, but,’ I say trying to resist my instinct to panic ‘he left me a note to say that you were picking him up at 7.45 am and you were going down to the studio.’
‘What is going on?’ The Edge wonders rhetorically ‘I texted him late last night to say no meeting was possible this weekend, Morleigh and I are having the girls over. I just assumed he hadn’t had a chance to respond.’
‘But how else would he have got a message saying you were free?’ I say unable to keep the note of fear out of my voice.
‘I don’t know but my gut tells me it’s not good though my rational mind is saying it’s Bono doing a Bono.’
‘Oh great, he’s leaving me!’ I said instantly female and neurotic, I was also aware that doing a Bono within the band was doing a runner to everyone else.
‘Don’t talk crap, he loves yer Grace’ The Edge replies and then says very softly so that I have to clamp the receiver to my ear to hear him properly ‘loves yer more than any girl he’s ever known. He told me two nights ago and no he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol that day.’
I give an involuntary shiver and a tear threatens to escape my left eye.
‘Anyway, our other in-band definition of doing a Bono is doing something spectacularly extravagant but it’s always very spontaneous and doesn’t happen often,’ Edge laughs softly ‘only reserved for his girls or close friends for birthday or Christmas gifts.’
‘But Edge,’ I say ‘it was my birthday a month ago! He couldn’t possibly top the insane things he did for me then.’
Bono had flown me to The Bahamas to a tiny but expensively furnished beach shack for a week on an exclusive beach. God, it had been heavenly if overly decadent.
‘True,’ The Edge says ponderously and then I hear a low whistle.
‘What?’ I ask my panic returning ‘what’s happened?’
‘Well I’m just checking my emails…’ he begins slowly.
‘Hurry Edge,’ I say in an agony of suspense.
‘There’s a reply from Bono to an email that I allegedly sent at 7.15 to say that me picking him up will be great and he can’t wait to discuss melody and song ideas. The email I sent is below and holy fuck, “I” has said I’ll be picking him up in a new Mercedes. This is all wrong, I never said anything of the sort. Grace, don’t panic but I’m coming over now and I’m bringing the police.’
‘What could have happened?’ I splutter, terrified thoughts spilling over each other in my head ‘other than the fact your account’s been hacked into, why would someone do that?’
‘No idea, but I have a feeling our more neurotic instincts are proving
correct,’ says Edge ‘I’ll be right over, make yerself a drink.’
He hangs up and I sit down on a kitchen chair, my chest tightening so much that I feel I can’t breathe. I shakily make myself a coffee though I keep telling myself that I shouldn’t freak out like this. It was probably two silly computer geeks who had managed to hack into two rockstars’ email accounts and thought they’d play a prank. Bono will be fine I say firmly to myself and take a long drink of the coffee.
Half an hour or so later, there’s a knock at the door and I go quickly to answer it, Edge is in front of me with his customary beanie on his head and beside him is tall, thin man with thinning hair and glasses.
‘Edge!’ I exclaim and he hugs me tight, it’s not a Bono hug but it’s reassuring in its own way!
‘Come in,’ I say ‘ can’t go forgetting my manners.’
The Edge introduces us
‘Mr Benton this is Bono’s girlfriend of ten months Grace McIntyre. Grace this is Private Detective Benton who is also an online expert.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ I say forcing a cordial smile ‘thank you for coming so quickly.’
‘And you,’ responds the detective in a stiff, formal English accent ‘now were you aware that there were skid marks outside your gates that indicate a very sudden stop? The rain had also loosened the gravel that made it obvious to see that there had been a struggle.’
‘A struggle? Skid marks? ’ I whisper thinking I’d found myself on the set of Midsummer Murders or Morse ‘good God. I took the dogs out through the person gate this morning, I found Bono’s wallet but I guess the dogs kept me distracted. I certainly noticed noth-…’
Mr Benson cuts across me
‘Yes, well that’s to be expected I suppose. But it certainly was a struggle between at least two men…Bono was definitely one of them,’ he smiles a wry, slightly cruel smile ‘I can safely say that it was a very violent struggle as it resulted in the ruin of these.’
He takes out of his pocket a pair of crushed Bvlgari sunglasses.
I shudder and Edge puts a comforting arm around me. Fear seems to be enveloping me in a dark shroud, what is it with this man? He seems to revel in describing it as if he feels “that Irish rockstar is finally getting his comeuppance!”
‘And that I can also safely say with not so much as a niggling, tiny doubt that your partner Miss McIntyre was kidnapped this morning at approximately 7.45 am. I met the Canadian Ambassador’s maid just before I entered here who said she’d been making the tea. She heard a very fast car drive off from here not that she thought of it as anything unusual but at least we have the time.’
I almost fall backwards, nausea filling me up, dizziness making it hard for me to see. Mr Benton’s voice is faraway, droning on. This must be a bad dream, at any moment I’ll wake up in Bono’s arms and he’ll tease me for shaking and sweating at a nightmare. It’s just a nightmare.
2.00 pm
‘The poor baby,’ the familiar Californian drawl of Edge’s wife Morleigh is the sound I slowly wake up to.
My forehead is being dabbed with a cool flannel and everything comes back to me in a sickening flashback.
‘Will he be alright Morleigh?’ I ask before I can stop myself sounding like a small, pathetic child.
‘We don’t know,’ she says honestly ‘but we must have faith.’
Poor Grace, I would be going crazy if I were her. Lovely Edge and Morleigh, can just imagine them being like this.
At least Edge is taking it seriously! I like Morleigh making an appearance at the end, too. 
poor Bono!
I don't like the cop guy either...
We can't have B suffering any kind of hurt... I'm quite interested in seeing who's going to rescue him? Will it be Edge?
. Seriously my early attempts at fanfic are just smutty fluff compared to this one and so, so you'll just have to wait and see *stammers nervously* lol. No, seriously if I do cause anyone offence in later installments, I do apologise 
