We were nearing the end of our second set when I noticed him. I purposely don't wear my glasses when I'm on stage so that the audience are enough out of focus for me not to feel weird about making occasional eye contact. Let's face it, I can't just stare at the ceiling all night while I'm singing, can I? And even though he was slightly blurry and wearing a flat cap and spectacles as a disguise, there was no mistaking those cheekbones and the dark curls peeping out from under the hat. They are all over the Internet and social media; you'd have to live in a remote village in Outer Mongolia not to recognise them. Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but you get my drift. I was very surprised to see him here and even more so that he was on his own and not currently being mobbed by fans or selfie hunters.
Jake and I did two songs together then I sang a couple on my own. It was as I was singing Dido's 'Sand in my Shoes' that I caught his eye and when his lips curved up a little at the edges I found it very difficult to look away - in fact, I ended up singing the line 'I want to see you again' right to him, then was mortified. To cover up I picked another couple of cute guys in the audience and sang the line to them too, so he wouldn't get the idea that I was fangirling or anything.
"Thank you very much. We're going to take a short break but we'll be back in a few minutes. The management have asked me to remind you that this is a pub and the primary goal is to sell drinks - so wander over and, you know, buy a drink or two." There was a smattering of laughter; the regulars were used to my sense of humour by now. "See you soon."
I placed my guitar next to the stool, turned off the mic and headed to the bar; teasing Jake about the chord he'd missed in one of the songs earlier on in the set. We'd worked together for nearly ten years so he is practically like a brother to me and joking and ribbing were all part of the deal - we never took offense.
I ordered an iced tea - not usual bar fare, I know, but I had to sing another set and I found it helped my vocal chords - and while I was waiting for it, I heard the smooth, deep, velvety voice of a jaguar hiding in a cello.
"You have an amazing voice," the jaguar said.
"Thank you," I replied, turning towards him ever so slowly, mentally preparing myself. I mean, come on, I had to at least warn my ovaries against any unscheduled explosions, didn't I? "So do you."
His lips lifted up ever so slightly again - hold it together, ovaries, you can do it! - and he stuck out a large hand with long, slender fingers. "I'm Be -"
"Benedict. Yes." I cut him off - because, you know, I'm so totally cool, calm and collected right now.
He quirked an eyebrow and this time his lips - oh good lord, those Cupid bow lips - tightened into a bit of a grimace. My heart plummeted - had I managed to offend him already? After only seven words? Shit!
"You know who I am, obviously."
I got my own eyebrow action going and said in a voice only slightly breathier than my usual, "Do you still meet people who don't?" Realising he still had his hand out and not wanting to leave the guy hanging, I placed my own hand in his and shook it gently - and I might have given him a small squeeze in there somewhere. His hand was warm and soft and large enough that it almost engulfed mine completely.
He stood there looking at me so I took the liberty of looking right back and holy crap, even without my glasses on the man was freaking gorgeous. After what felt like hours but in reality was probably only a couple of seconds he gave a throaty chuckle and while my insides made all kinds of writhing movements he said, "Not very often, no. Unfortunately."
"I rest my case," I quipped before I could stop myself. Come on brain; work with me here.
He smiled, a full-blown smile so beautific I had to quickly grasp the bar for support, lest the knees that felt suddenly weak should decide to give up the ghost all together. The famous laugh lines around his eyes put in an appearance too and suddenly I was having trouble breathing. Someone give me oxygen before I...oh, okay, there, I managed to breathe again. Well done.
I think I smiled back; I'm not sure. It felt more like a nervous rictus but as he didn't turn and head for the hills, I assumed it actually looked more normal than it felt.
"You haven't told me your name," he purred, then looked down at his hand and I discovered it still held mine. Now I understood the tingling sensation I was getting in my right arm - thank God, I was beginning to worry I was suffering a heart attack, except, you know, on the wrong side.
Do I just tell him my name or make him guess? Turn it into a game? Or maybe -
"Here you go Cara." That was Bob, the barman, handing me my iced tea. Great timing Bob, way to go.
"Thanks Bob," I muttered without even looking at him.
"Cara. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."
Oomph! Another slug right in the ovaries. Can you get ovary transplants? I might just need a new set before the end of the night.
"Thank you." It was probably just a flirt line he used on every woman he met, but I was happy to take it; I didn't get called beautiful every day. Deciding it was time to extricate my hand from his, I gently removed it from his clasp and immediately felt sorry for my poor little hand, feeling so bereft and lonely down there at the end of my arm.
"I obviously can't buy you a drink," Benedict indicated my iced tea and smiled again and my knees started yelling 'Need help down here!' "Maybe a coffee? After you finish. Would that be...acceptable?"
Acceptable? Are you crazy?
"Sure." I was rather pleased at how relaxed and normal I sounded. That lasted all of - oh, I don't know, five seconds? - before verbal diarrhoea set in. "It's perfectly acceptable. People drink coffee. I drink coffee, in fact. Well, actually I don't usually drink it at night; it keeps me awake. I usually drink tea at night. But I could drink coffee if coffee were required." Oh good lord, now I'm adapting movie quotes. The only saving grace was that it wasn't one of his movies. I quickly wiped that thought from my mind in case thinking about it made me start doing it.
He tilted his head to one side and grinned and God help me, I grinned back. The man has an infectious grin, what can I say?
"Excellent. I look forward to coffee - or tea - with you later Cara." And with that he turned and headed back to his table, leaving me to sink slowly on to a bar stool and sip my iced tea as I wondered how I could stop myself waking up from this dream. Because it's got to be a dream, right?
We were back on stage five minutes later for our final set. The last song of the night was James Blunt's 'Stay the Night'; I joined in with Jake on the chorus and studiously avoided catching anyone's eye. Yes, you know who I mean. Or is it whom? Whatever. I didn't want to give him any ideas, is my point. He has a legion of fans all over the world and I was sure he didn't need my notch on his bedpost.
The applause was good and we grinned at each other as we took our bows. About half the patrons left while we were packing up our instruments and gear, the other half apparently getting in one more round before closing time. The boys started carrying the stuff out to Rick's van and I drew Jake aside.
"Listen Jake, I'm going to stay here for a bit and have a cup of c...tea."
"You want me to stay with you and give you a ride home?"
"No, that's okay, I'll take a taxi." He looked at me strangely, as if it seemed like I was going to an awful lot of trouble and expense just to get a drink I could easily have at home. "I'm...meeting someone," I said to explain it and saw his eyes flicker quickly in the direction of where a certain tall, currently dark-haired actor was sitting.
"Cara?" Correction: had been sitting.
I introduced them then said, "Thanks Jake, I'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow," rolling my eyeballs towards the exit. He got the hint.
"See you Caz. Take care."
When he'd gone I turned towards Benedict, feeling my nerves come back again now that he was so close. I was never nervous while I was on stage singing but in situations like this - one on one - well, let's just say that anything could happen.
"Shall we sit or would you prefer to go somewhere else?"
"Here's good." Here was just fine; here there's help on hand if needed - by him, I mean, not me. In case I, you know, lost it or something. Bob could lock me up in the wine cellar. If he has one, which come to think of it I don't know. I'll have to ask him some time.
He asked if I had a preference in tea and laughed when I said that it wouldn't matter, Bob only has one type. "Tell him it's for me," I said, "and he won't charge you." Then I realised who I was talking to and told myself to keep quiet. A second later I remembered something. "Benedict?"
"Yes?"
"Would you please ask Bob to give you my bag?"
He smiled, nodded and held my chair out for me before moving to the bar. I took the opportunity to take a deep breath and count to ten but I was obviously drawing the 'one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi' out too long because he was back by the time I got to five, handing me my bag and saying, "Bob said he'll bring the drinks over."
"Okay. Thank you."
I rummaged around in my bag and found my glasses case. When I put on my specs Benedict was suddenly there right in front of me in sharp focus now instead of soft like when you use the edge blur effect in iPhoto. I blinked a couple of times - you know, just to be sure it was actually him - and caught my breath when he smiled at me.
"They suit you," he said.
"What do?" I know, stupid question, but hey, I was nervous. Cut me some slack.
"The glasses." Duh.
They were your typical geeky-look black frames not dissimilar to his own; my friends always told me they made me look more intelligent and I was never sure whether or not to feel insulted at that. Did they mean I didn't look intelligent without them? But Benedict hadn't said they made me look intelligent, only that they suited me. I puzzled over that one for a while until he spoke again.
"So, Caz?"
"Yes?" Then I realised what he meant. "Oh, Jake's from Australia originally, they abbreviate everything apparently. Seems my two-syllable name is just too much for him to handle. Goodness only knows what he would do with yours."
He laughed - a real laugh of amusement, not a fake social laugh - and I caught sight of a crooked tooth in his lower jaw. Aw, cute. Just as I was about to mention it Bob arrived with my tea and Benedict's coffee, which was probably just as well; is asking someone about a wonky bicuspid socially acceptable? I suddenly had my doubts.
"Thanks Bob."
"You're welcome Cara." I noticed my companion wasn't included in the welcome. "I'm right over here in case you need anything. Anything at all." He gave me a pointed look that went straight over my head; I frowned and shook my head slightly and in response he rolled his eyes towards Benedict, who had seen our little interaction and gave a small smile, looked me right in the eyes and winked. I think Bob was a bit startled when I laughed out loud; he just patted my shoulder and went back behind the bar.
"Bob's very protective of you." His smile reached his eyes.
"I've known him a long time. Am I going to need protection?"
"I hope so." What the hell did that mean? He hoped he was going to attack me later? He hoped I would get mugged on the way home? Am I meant to go to my mind palace and deduce this? "That came out wrong." Um, yeah. I raised an eyebrow to encourage him to explain. "I meant I hope you need...no, I hope we'll...actually, can we just delete that whole thing and pretend it never happened?" He looked rather embarrassed so I took pity on him.
"Okay, but just so you know, Bob has a black belt in jiu-jitsu." I was bull-shitting but he didn't need to know that, right?
I held my cup in both hands in front of my face, taking occasional small sips and looking at Benedict over the top as he drank his coffee. "Is that black with two sugars?" I asked.
"How did you know that?"
"That's how...oh God, sorry. Forget I asked. I should just not talk; it's much safer that way. When I'm nervous I only have two speeds - no talking at all but my thoughts are racing around inside my head like a jackrabbit on crack, or spewing words out really fast without thinking and sounding like...well, like a jackrabbit on crack I suppose."
"You're nervous?"
"Well duh."
"Why?"
"Because you're...you. Breadsticks Crumblebatch." Shit! Did I seriously say that out loud? To his face! All right Karma, open up a fiery pit and swallow me now.
He laughed and put down his cup. "Cara?"
"Yes?" How is it he is still smiling at me?
"You are the most fascinating woman I've met in a long time."
Well, that was unexpected.