x
Whirlwind (continued)
37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWBE27w2D5P
MAXWELL
37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiY7gMSAO6Y
Claire's sudden moodiness troubled Maxwell. He feared something lurked in her background, and she wished to bury it. All his senses told him to pursue the subject—make her talk about her distress—but he decided not to pressure her. When she was ready, she would tell him. Until then, he wanted to bask in his newfound love affair.
Maxwell spent weeks in the recording studio, setting down tracks. He sang until his voice grew hoarse and cracked. In the background, Claire supported him and, when he wanted to give up, encouraged him to continue. Finally, his first record debuted on the UK Top 100. It peaked at number ninety-eight for one week and slid into oblivion. His second single didn't make it that far.
"Can't expect miracles, lad," Oliver Weeks exclaimed, leaning on his bar.
"Yeah, sure," Maxwell responded glumly. Although Uncle Maynard established a flat for him, he continued to haunt his friend's rundown café.
"Next one will do better." Oliver smiled reassuringly.
The next single topped at eighty-seven and disappeared with the previous two. Maxwell appeared in small clubs outside London. Uncle Maynard promoted him as the 'Next Big Thing.' Nothing happened.
Maxwell began to despair. Claire reassured him, claiming his rise in fame would start suddenly. Uncle Maynard knew his business—he assured success.
"Release this one," Claire insisted, barging into her uncle's office.
"It's a ballad; it's too soft," Maynard Ogilvie responded, leaning back in his chair.
"Release it," his niece stated determinedly. "The others died a quick death. What can you lose?"
"All right," Claire's Uncle relented.
'Sunshine on a Rose' debuted at thirty-two and shot into the Top Ten the following week. Claire grasped Maxwell's hands and danced him around Uncle Maynard's office. After the re-release of his previous singles, Maxwell hit big with two number-one songs and a number-three. His head began to spin.
Claire accompanied Maxwell to Berlin for his European debut. When they reached Stockholm, young girls crowded around him with autograph books. They screamed his name and reached out to touch his clothing. Clinging close to his side, Claire warded them off as best she could. Uncle Maynard assigned a bodyguard to protect his new star.
Rome followed Barcelona, then Paris. The crowds grew larger and louder. Finally, Maxwell returned to the UK for a concert in Edinburgh.
"Next stop, Wembley," Claire declared, running her hand through Maxwell's unruly hair. She pressed her sweat-soaked body closer to his. They had just finished making love.
Claire reacted strongly to Maxwell's gentle caresses. She'd only known Gerald's abusive touch and never realized love was tender. When her new lover entered her, her climaxes rushed upon her. Both startled and satisfied, she basked in his strong arms, knowing she was protected from all the wrong she had once endured.
"I…I still can't believe it," Maxwell stated, kissing the tip of her nose. "All those young girls screaming my name. I'm going to wake up and find I'm dreaming."
"You're not dreaming," Claire answered, pressing closer. "I love you. Remember that."
"I'll never forget," he answered, nibbling at her earlobe.
"Keep that in mind when those girls are ripping at your clothes and clawing your sexy body," Claire answered, stretching against his taunt body. "Don't let them tempt you."
"They're faces in a crowd, Claire darling," Maxwell whispered, pulling her closer. He began caressing her again, finding newly discovered places to explore.
Wembley sold out quickly. Sweat-soaked, Maxwell exited the stage to a cacophony of young voices. During his second encore performance, he pulled a girl from the audience to dance with him. No one had to know the girl was Claire, and they staged the dance. It excited his fan base, and that's all that mattered.
Maxwell rode high on the wave of stardom. Always supportive, Claire remained at his side. He owed her all his gratitude. Without her, he would have remained homeless on the London streets. He never forgot the day she entered Oliver Weeks' café and changed his life.
While the whirlwind of fame and fortune swirled around him, Maxwell suddenly became caught up in another vortex—a more personal one. Although Claire remained bubbly about his success, in private, she grew moody. She acted nervous and restrained, often staring intensely into space. Once or twice, he asked what bothered her. She shrugged and then brightened considerably.
"Did I do something wrong?" Maxwell asked late one night. Claire lay in a rigid posture at the edge of the bed.
"No," her tiny voice returned. Tugging on the duvet, she rolled into a tight ball. She felt guilty about leading Maxwell on. Sooner or later, she would have to confess. Gerald remained a shadowy form in the back of her mind. As much as she longed to forget him, her husband remained a part of her life. On the other hand, she didn't want to pop her lover's bubble.
"Are you sure? If something bothers you, I should know about it," Maxwell pursued anxiously. "We should fix our difficulties quickly. If there are difficulties, I mean."
"There's nothing. I…I don't feel right. Probably too much excitement. Let's get some sleep, ok." Claire relaxed a little but remained distant. A tear clung in her sober eye. "I'm getting my period in a few days. It's sending me signals to get prepared."
"Ok." Maxwell accepted her response. He had other girlfriends who used their monthly problems as an excuse to avoid sex. He didn't believe Claire would use it and trusted her explanation.
Reaching out, Maxwell touched her shoulder. Claire trembled but finally settled against him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and they fell into the spooning position. He could love her without touching her, stay with her without carnal knowledge for a few days. Feeling confident, he fell asleep, knowing she was close.
37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPh8SEQhsax
37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyKQaOpqvg6
MAXWELL
Maxwell quickly forgot Claire's moody moments following his European tour. She seemed to brush off the sulks and revert to her usual effervescent self. He began compiling his follow-up album by expressing his love for her in song. Uncle Maynard praised his efforts.
Maxwell's star rose over Europe. The promo department scheduled talk show appearances and a special guest slot on "Eastenders," a popular afternoon soap opera. When he took Claire to Paris for a weekend, mobs of teenage girls swarmed them. He still couldn't believe his good luck.
Maxwell lived in a subway only the year before and grubbed for meals at Ollie's café. Often, he recalled his sense of failure and the depression that overcame him. He rode high on the wave of success and showed Claire his gratitude in many subtle ways.
"Will you marry me?" Maxwell asked on bended knee. The Eiffel Tower loomed behind them, casting a romantic midnight glow. He took her hand and slipped a large diamond onto the fourth finger of her left hand.
Claire looked down upon Maxwell. His soft brown hair fell in a gentle wave over his bent head. She longed to run the tips of her fingers through it. She reached out with a trembling hand. Her love for him swelled, and her pulse quickened. For days and days, she hoped he'd ask her. His vibes came at her firmly, and she knew he would. She anticipated his proposal—she wanted to say yes.
Instead, Claire sobbed. Taking off the ring, she dropped it at his feet and ran. Her hollow footsteps resounded in Maxwell's ears. Misery encapsulated him. In the morning, he returned to England alone.
Claire did not return to their flat. When he asked Uncle Maynard her whereabouts, the music exec claimed he did not know. Maxwell detected a lie but didn't voice his opinion. Filling his time, he lost himself in the recording studio.
"If she loves you, she'll return," Oliver Weeks assured him.
Maxwell sat in a back booth of the café. He never sat near a window in case someone on the sidewalk recognized him. Holding his head in his hands, he glanced up at his companion with bloodshot eyes. The only place he gave in to his emotions was the café.
"I asked her to marry me, and she threw the ring at my feet," Maxwell moaned, hot tears streaking his cheeks. "I thought she loved me."
"She does, mate," Ollie stated, a tentative smile crossing his face.
"Then, why?"
Oliver shrugged and looked grim.
"I want to know why."
"Sometimes there are no answers to a woman's behavior," the café owner remarked.
Several weeks passed before Maxwell received a call from Uncle Maynard. The record exec requested his immediate presence at his office. When he arrived, he was delighted to find Claire standing behind her relative's chair. A grin spread across her face—his face lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Pack your bags, lad," Uncle Maynard stated before he greeted Claire. "You're going to America."
Claire flew at him, and Maxwell grabbed her around the waist. The young couple embraced tightly and kissed.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
