I'm the first one up the next day, rising early along with the sun at 05:27, although nowhere near as brightly. The beauty of the sunrise, the intensely bright spectrum of colours, the life it signifies and awakens, and the warmth it brings are in stark contrast to the bed-headed, lethargic, pale, panda-eyed, scruffy mess that is me. I groan at the ache in my head and the nausea in my stomach on my way to the kitchen to get myself a glass of water. I find and take some Ibuprofen and head back upstairs to shower. I replay the events of yesterday over in my head. There's got to be more to Yannis intense dislike of me, is it because of Eloise? They are obviously in a relationship, so does he hate me in solidarity with his woman? If he does have reason of his own it must be bad, but how could I have angered him so much when we'd never met before last week? Didn't Jimmie tell me that Yanni hates me because I ruined his relationship with one of my stories? How can that be if he's still with Eloise, unless he's only recently with her, in which case, why is he still so angry? It doesn't make sense...... and why am I so fixated on determining the existence of a tiny mole? Something niggles about it, but so far I'm not sure what or why?
I reach the top of the stairs and see Yanni about to knock on my door. I stop and begin to turn slowly, my intention to slip back downstairs unnoticed. I don't want to see him at all, but certainly not with this banging hangover, or with last nights clothes on and make up around my eyes! I step down one stair and look to see if I've been spotted and find Yanni in exactly the same position as he was in before, hand raised to tap on the door, but he doesn't knock!
I sit down and placing my glass on the stair beside me, I observe him through the bannister, praying he doesn't notice me. He drops his arm and huffs out a breath, then runs both hands through his hair before shaking out his arms, rolling his shoulders and inclining his head from side to side. He looks like a boxer about to enter the ring. I have no desire for a fight of any kind, either physical or verbal, so attempt to creep down the stairs to avoid him but forget about the glass, which goes tumbling down the stairs, splashing water on its way.
"Shit!" I mutter as I spin quickly and stand up giving the illusion I've just arrived at the top of the stairs.
"Oh, good morning Yanni" I say as nonchalantly as possible as I again turn around, this time to head back downstairs to clean up the mess I've made. I'm grateful and surprised that the glass remained in one piece, so clean up shouldn't be too hard.
I'm halfway down the stairs before I realise I'm holding my breath, anticipating him speaking to me. Whatever he wants to say can wait, I need my wits about me with him, and right now I am feeling sub-par due to last nights excesses.
"Sydney!" he calls after me and I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale as slowly and quietly as I can, steeling myself for the barrage of abuse I feel certain is coming my way.
"Yes, Yanni... what can I do for you this morning?" I enquire as I turn to smile up at him and find he is right behind me on the stairs.
"Christ, how do you move that fast, and silently too, your like a cat...... or a ninja?!" I ask in shock, clutching the handrail with one hand, my chest with the other. My heart rate has just doubled. I guess fear will do that to a person. I could have fallen! Yes, that's it, I am scared I'll fall.
It has nothing to do with his close proximity, his perfectly smooth pore free pale skin, his down turned but plump lipped mouth or his pastel green hair falling over doleful dark ...... NO MOLE!?
I need a trip to the optician, I've clearly got some kind of eye disease, floaters in my vision, the stress of being around him causing disturbances in my vision as my blood pressure rises.
I shake my head slightly and continue downstairs, bending to pick up the glass before heading the the kitchen to grab some kitchen towels to clear up the water I spilled.
"I didn't mean to scare you, sorry" he says quietly
I tell him not to worry, I'm fine, and whilst fearing what I'm in for but unable to resist knowing I ask him what he wanted to talk about.
"Oh, erm, well... I wanted to say sorry for my behaviour last night. I'd had a few drinks... I know, that's not a good excuse, I know.... but my tongue gets loose and my mouth forgets it should never work independently of my brain, blurting out whatever enters my head, no filter!
Look, I didn't mean to be such a dick to you last night. I was serious when I told you that you looked beautiful before you went out, but that was the last thing I said that was true" he tells me, his voice contrite, hands raised placatingly.
"Really? So you DO hit women?!"
"No, of course I ....."
"You DONT care about Jimmie?!"
"Well, yes, but ...." he stutters
"Is this an apology Yanni? If it is then I accept. Let's not speak about it again, but let me just say this to you.... you may think it's ok to be Mr High and Mighty in your world, bullying people into doing what you want, speaking to people in any way you choose, but it isn't!
You might disrespect others everyday, make threats, be offensive and abrasive, and you might have what you think are good reasons to behave that way, but you don't! Nothing makes any of that ok, and do you know what upsets me the most? It is that you seem to judge everyone by your own standards. Don't do that.
I do not set out to hurt others, I would never intentionally upset anyone, and I definitely do not plan to hurt Jimmie. Ever! Understood?!" I shout, my voice breaking a little towards the end of my sentence, as an uneasy feeling that I might actually do just that settles over me! I shiver at that thought as Yanni gives me a tight smile, clapping his hands together as he says.....
"Right. Good. Can we try again? Start over? You're right, we did bully you into this job, and I'm sorry for that. Would you have come if we'd have just asked nicely?"
"You know what Yanni, I probably would have. What fan wouldn't want to spend time with their favourite group? What journalist would reject the opportunity to write the official biography of the biggest group in the history of music to date? None. Not one. I'd like for us to be friends, but I'm not sure that's possible. It's a shame, we could be having a fabulous time together but instead we're mired in this unpleasantness. At least let's not be enemies eh?!" I suggest hopefully.
"I'll take that...." he says, "for now" he adds ominously, holding out his hand for me to shake, just as Eloise enters the room from a ground floor bedroom, rubbing her eyes.
"Weeze here is going to keep me in check from now on, aren't you Weeze! Make sure I don't behave like a total prat again!" he states with a hint of ice in his tone, his increased volume not lost on me.
Eloise swallows hard and nods, passing us without comment and heading into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with 2 glasses of water.
"Erm..... thirsty?" he asks her, indicating the 2 glasses in her hands.
"Oh yes, I'm planning on staying in my room all day, don't want to dehydrate. Are you coming back to bed with me gorgeous?!" she purrs in his ear as she passes us, her narrowed eyes not once leaving mine. She really doesn't like me!
He fixes her with a stare that could kill and declines politely, calling her darling! I think I might puke! I'm not sure if its because of this lovey-dovey name calling, or the copious amounts of alcohol I drank last night, but I tell them I'm off for a shower, then turn and run up the stairs to my room.