Kevin pulled his hat lower on his head. He had stepped out of the hotel half an hour ago for some fresh air and had instantly regretted it. He had already been recognised countless times, and he wasn’t in the mood to turn on the charm for the fans. He looked up at the building next to him: a greasy spoon café. He ducked inside, hoping it to be a sanctuary from the hounding of the fans.
He was in luck. The café was practically deserted, save for a woman reading a paper and two men arguing. Kevin slid into a booth at the back of the restaurant, resting his head against the wall. He removed his hat and sunglasses, praying that he remained anonymous and at peace for a while. He struggled to order a coffee from the star-struck and shell-shocked waitress and told himself to remember to leave a decent tip, to thank the girl from not requesting his autograph.
Kevin thought back to breakfast. He had got up early, to eat in peace. His plan had been foiled by the arrival of the other four. The food fight had apparently begun when AJ had made some comment about Brian’s singing. Brian had thrown a sausage at AJ, who had flicked scrambled eggs back. They missed Brian and hit Nick, who lobbed a fried tomato at AJ but got Howie. Kevin didn’t care. Six months ago, he would have joined in after a fruitless attempt to stop the guys making more of a mess. Now, he couldn’t care less, just as long as he wasn’t party to it. He had got up and left, heading to the gym to pound out his frustrations on a running machine.
The bell rang, signalling the entrance of a customer. He looked up and froze. It was the woman. She sat down at a booth the opposite side of the café, resting her head in her hands. She was dressed as she had been the previous day. He assumed from her UCLA sweater that she was an American, and due to her unkempt appearance Kevin began to wonder if she had anywhere to stay in town.
The music that Kevin had not realised had been playing forced itself into his subconscious. He listened, watching the woman all the while, as she nodded her head in time to the track.
“Like Cleopatra got the masses at my feet
Got a living dwell down on easy street
And I’m the latest craze
And if you stay awhile
Inevitably you’re gonna bite my style in your later days
Now let me tell you what is fact and what is true
I get high a lot ain’t got much to do
I’m always in a daze
That was just a dream I had last night in my bubble bath
Next to my wishing well
Get up get out and do somethin
Don’t let the days of your life pass you by
Get up get out and do somethin
How will you make it if you never even try?
Get up get out and do somethin
Can’t spend your whole life tryin to get high
You got to get up get out and do somethin
Cuz you and I gotta do for you and I”
Kevin listened to the lyrics. He knew this was fate. This song was playing for a reason; it was playing to tell him to stop wasting his life, to stop moping about and do something about it. Kevin knew exactly what he had to do. He wasn’t going to settle for reading her every emotion this time.
He got up and walked towards her.
* * * *
Nikita felt like crying. She had woken up that morning planning to head off south and see what she found, hoping eventually to find somewhere to settle. But on attempting to start her car, she had found it unresponsive. She knew she was stuck. She had little money left, certainly not enough to get the car fixed. She had locked up and wandered the streets aimlessly, eventually ducking inside a café for a cup of tea and a chance to sit down.
She collapsed into a chair near the window and put her head in her hands. She was aware she was going to have to come up with money and quickly. If I don’t…well, the alternative is calling Mom. Or Stevie, she shuddered. That thought repulsed her. There was no way was she crawling back to him.
One of Nikita’s beloved Macy Gray tracks kicked in on the radio. She raised her head from her hands, feeling instantly stronger, the music and lyrics cheering her infinitely. She thought back to the journey into this town. She had been right thinking that Macy was going to provide the soundtrack for her new life; it was playing now to prove that.
“What’s been happening? how you doin? where you been
I’m further behind now than I was back then
Lost in some old maze
Some years have passed me by
All I want it to go get high
I’ll get it together some other day
In my dreams I dwell cuz all my dreams are swell
Get up get out and do somethin
Don’t let the days of your life pass you by
Get up get out and do somethin
How will you make it if you never even try?
Get up get out and do somethin
Can’t spend your whole life tryin to get high
You got to get up get out and do somethin
Cuz you and I gotta do for you and I”
Singing to herself, Nikita looked around the café: at the woman with the paper, at the two men arguing, at the man in the corner. It was him. She debated internally whether to get up and go over. The more she considered it, the more the song lyrics playing seemed significant. “Get up get out and do something”. Shit, here goes nothing, she thought, making her decision. She had to go talk to him, find out about him and why she felt as if she knew him despite never breathing a word to him. She couldn’t let him-
He got up and walked towards her.
“In my dreams I dwell cuz all my dreams are swell
And you would too, it you could see them
That’s when I know
I gotta go get up get out
Heaven’s at my feet, got a living dwell down on easy street
I’m the latest craze
That was just a dream I had
Last night in my bubble bath
Next to my wishing well
Get up get out and do somethin
Don’t let the days of your life pass you by
Get up get out and do somethin
How will you make it if you don’t even try?
Get up get out and do somethin
Can’t spend your whole life tryin to get high
You gotta get up get out and do somethin
Cuz you and I gotta do for you and I”
(Lyrics: ‘Do Something’ by Macy Gray)
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