Hanging up, I went to grab my shoes and handbag before realising I was still in my PJs. Damon had sounded so stressed, and I didn’t want to leave him on his own any longer than necessary. With this in mind, I put on my winter coat, knowing it covered everything up, slipped into my shoes, and left the apartment.
When I reached Damon’s street, I saw all the press waiting outside. They must have caught wind that he was going to be on this TV show tonight, and that was why they’d decided to pay a visit. I didn’t want them to take any pictures of me going in, so instead I walked to the end of the street, then turned into the laneway that ran along the back of the houses. I found the gate at the rear of Damon’s house blessedly unlocked and made my way to the back door, knocking a few times gently. A minute later Damon appeared, eyes darting in all directions.
“Rose, come in. How did you get back here?” he asked as I stepped inside the warmth of the house.
“Your back gate was open. Don’t worry, it’s locked now. I thought it best not to come in through the front door just in case those paps start splashing pictures of me all over OK magazine this week,” I said with a hint of humour.
Damon grimaced and ran his hands through his hair. He wore loose-fitting jeans and a black T-shirt, his face sporting a light stubble. I tried not to stare when he lifted his arms over his head in agitation and a slim line of skin was revealed at his torso. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
I shook my head and told him gently, “Don’t apologise. It’s understandable that you’re freaking out. How about a cup of tea? I always find it good for settling my nerves.”
He exhaled, his panic fading a little. His mouth formed a smirk when I took off my coat to reveal my pale blue and yellow striped pyjamas. “Were you sleeping when I called?”
I went to turn the kettle on. “No, just having a lazy Sunday. If I don’t have to work, then no way am I getting dressed when I could be wearing these.”
Damon chuckled low, rubbing his jaw as he went to sit down at the table. “You’re cute. And I think I feel better already.”
I did a little curtsy and grinned. “Glad to be of service.”
A few minutes later, I placed two cups of tea down on the table and took the seat opposite him. His eyebrows rose slightly as he looked at me, all expectant like he was waiting for me to unleash some sage advice.
“I’m not sure I’m the best person for you to be speaking with right now. You’re nervous about being on TV, and I’ve suffered from stage fright almost my entire life.”
Damon leaned forward on the table, clasping his teacup. I was momentarily struck by how out of place his big hands looked on the feminine china but shook off the thought. “Why is that, by the way?”
I let out a small laugh. “I thought we were supposed to be discussing your interview.”
He shook his head. “Better to talk about you. It’ll take my mind off things.”
“You shouldn’t be so worried, you know. This could be a good thing for you. You’re going to be on stage six nights a week once the show starts up. Maybe facing your fears today will help ease you in.”
“Stop diverting. Tell me why audiences scare you.”
I took a sip and relented. “Fine. When I was little, I used to dance all the time. I’d camp out in front of the television and copy the dancers on screen for hours, never caring if anyone else was around. Sometimes Julian would sit in and watch, cheer me on, and I loved his encouragement, even dreamed of a day when huge masses of people would cheer for me just like Julian did.”
Damon smiled, and yeah, big, massive whoosh through the heart. “I bet you were a great kid.”
“Not really. I was hyper and annoying. Too much energy, Mum always said. So anyway, you remember I lived in a house with all those other kids, Julian and Joanna’s two daughters? Their names were Yvonne and Claudia, and they were a couple of years older than me. One day they noticed me dancing and for some