Chapter 3

The A they're both wearing - I think it stands for "asshole." Wanna know why? Because they fell in love and love is for stupid assholes. And this book is just about a bunch of assholes who fell in love, like assholes, then had to die, like assholes.

-Crazy, Stupid Love

Three days later I got a call in the afternoon. It was Waldo, obviously.

"Hello, Lori," he said.

"Hello, Waldo."

"How are you today?"

"As usual."

"Can I ask when your night off is?"

"Um." I thought about it. It was that day, but my hunger had no days off. I still had to find a way to satisfy my hunger. But he sounded confident on the phone, unusually confident. "Tonight. Why?"

"Would you like to join me this evening? I prepared what you asked for."

"Oh, you did. Sounds… great."

"Would you be able to join me at eight o' clock tonight?"

"Sure."

"Would you mind if I sent a car to get you?"

"I don't mind."

"Wonderful. I'll see you tonight. Oh, and I don't want to put pressure on you, but formal dress attire is suggested."

"I'll have that in mind."

"Alright. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Waldo."

He hung up. He had never sounded so confident. Maybe he rehearsed the phone call, too.

I decided to look deep into Lori's wardrobe. At the end there was a black dress that seemed to match Waldo's dress attire expectations. I looked for shoes, necklace and earrings. I did an internet search to make sure my selected attire made sense for humans. By the pictures, I realized many clothing pieces shouldn't make sense to anyone but still people liked wearing them. I decided my attire was good enough and decided to wait for Waldo's car. I felt hungry. I knew I could manage, though. I kept waiting and finally the car arrived. It was what humans call a "limousine". The driver opened the door for me and I got in. The limousine had a room inside. The driver told me to help myself if I wanted anything and closed the door. I spent the whole way just staring at the inside.

The limousine stopped and the driver opened the door. He helped me get out. I was in the middle of something that looked like the courtyard of a castle. Behind us there were a couple of gate doors that were closing now, in front of me there was an enormous house the size of a hundred spaceships, and next to where I was there was something called a "fountain" almost the size of Lori's apartment. On one side of the fountain there was a table with candles on it and on the other side there was a piano with Waldo standing next to it, wearing what I assumed was a formal attire. In another planet, I once saw a picture of what they said was the last of the Time Lords. Around his neck, he was wearing the same thing that Waldo was wearing that night. According to Lori's mind, it was called a "bowtie".

The car left.

"Good evening, miss," Waldo said.

"Good evening," I said. "What's this?"

"I said I wanted to give my best. This is my best, at least for now. I hope you're not disappointed."

I don't know about Earth women, but I hadn't known a woman in the entire universe who would be disappointed by such a majestic piece of land.

"I'm not. You can be sure of it," I replied.

"Good. Now, I prepared two songs if that's alright with you."

"It is."

"I'll play one before dinner and one after."

"If that's what you want."

He nodded and went to sit in front of the piano.

"I'll confess something that I haven't told anyone before," he told me. "When I write music I try to get something specific. You know when you hear a song and you feel a certain something inside you? And that song always makes you feel like that, it touches something inside. And that's amazing because it's just noise and words but it can transmit a whole experience to you. You know what I mean?"

I didn't.

"Maybe," I said.

"Well, when I write music I remember the way I feel at certain times and I want to get that in my music. I want to transmit what I felt at a moment with a song. I don't know if it works, and yet, here is my attempt at it."

He put his fingers gently on the keys. It had been a long time since I had heard anybody play an instrument. He played a chord. He made a pause then went on moving his fingers along the piano. He looked so focused, so serious. He was pressing every key at the right moment. I'm not a musician, but I could see he was good at it. Why did he believe he shouldn't share this with the world? I'm not even from his world and I was amazed by it. And I felt it. I felt what he had talked about. I felt something inside me just by hearing noises. And I liked it. I didn't know what it was and I liked it. I wanted more of it. I was so hungry when the car left me there, but as soon as I heard him play I forgot all about it. It's like I didn't need it anymore.

He made a brief pause and opened his mouth to sing.

I haven't met you

Yet still you are

Inside this blue

And now bitter heart

As morning dawns

With me you rise

And my soul asks

To meet you tonight

That's what I remember of the song. I don't know if these lyrics mean anything on Earth. I don't know if they mean anything to anyone in the universe. I know that when I heard them with his voice and accompanied by the notes he was playing I felt close to him, I felt that I knew him better, and I felt an enormous desire to know him more.

He finished. He turned to me.

"What do you think?"

I was with my mouth half opened, not able to move my eyes from him.

"It was great," I said.

"Thank you. Shall we have dinner now?"

"Uh… yes, yes."

He took my hand and guided me to the table. He pulled the chair for me and I sat. He sat in front of me.

"This is my favorite spot in all the property," he told me.

"Is it?"

As I said that, a couple of waiters appeared out of nowhere. They brought a plate for each one of us.

"I didn't know what you liked," Waldo said, "so I told the cook to prepare what we had in the restaurant the other day. I hope it doesn't bother you."

"It's alright."

"Good. So yes, this is my favorite spot. I used to come here on nights like these when I was little. I still do, sometimes. It's very peaceful."

"I imagine. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"I knew you were rich, I just didn't know you were filthy rich."

He grinned.

"I know."

"I'm not sure how things work here on Earth—I mean Wales, but I'm sure that just making music for others doesn't buy all of these."

"You're right. Dad wasn't just a musician; he was also some kind of business man. He bought shares here and there and also owned a recording studio. And no, I'm not going to record an album just because I can."

"So you don't just make music, you also manage what he left."

"I guess."

"And when you do music you do it well."

Waldo shrugged.

"Not well enough."

"Waldo, don't say that. If you don't believe you're not good you can't expect other people to believe it for you."

"I don't, I just… maybe I'll show it to someone else. But later."

"No, soon."

"I'll know when it's ok to show it."

"You've been waiting for years for it to be ok. Just do it!"

He began to laugh.

"You sound just like my mum."

I blushed and took my hand to my face.

"Oh, please don't say that!" I said as I laughed. I hadn't intended to do any of that. I was letting Lori out. I had to get myself together.

"I'm just saying. It doesn't mean anything," he said.

"I know. Whatever," I replied composing myself.

"You know, I don't know much about yourself except for your name and your, er, workplace. Do you have any family near, friends, ex-husband?"

"No, nothing like that, just my, em, co-workers."

"Oh, alright. Where are you from?"

Where was Lori from?

"Hereford," I said.

"Oh, that's far. Why did you come here?"

Yes, why would Lori want to come to Cardiff? Apparently she wanted to be an actress for the BBC.

"I wanted to be an actress. Didn't work out, of course."

"Why not? You're still young. Here you are telling me to show the world what I have while you don't want to show what you have."

"Oh, many have seen what I have, Waldo."

"I didn't mean that."

"We're done with dinner, why don't you play your other song?"

He got up and shook his head.

"You're a coward, just like me," he said as he walked to the piano.

"What's this song called?" I asked.

"It doesn't have a name yet. Or lyrics. I don't think it will have any."

"Ok. Carry on."

He put his hands on the piano and again there was this incredible feeling flooding me. How did he do it? He looked like a doctor operating on a patient who might die any minute, yet he did it with such ease and in a very peaceful manner. I've seen planets and stars and many marvels of the universe, but when he played I didn't want to be anywhere else. I didn't want to travel in my spaceship, I wanted to travel in his notes and in his words. I wanted him to write me a song and make me feel I could travel the universe without having to move.

The song was finished.

"And that's it," he said and got up.

"Very nice."

"Thank you."

I looked at him. He looked all stiff and tight.

"You should try to relax more," I told him. "A lot more."

"Why? Don't I look relaxed?"

"Not at all." I walked to him. I tried to shake him and he barely moved. "See? You're all stiff."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"You are. Stop being stiff!" I shouted as I pushed him.

He took a couple of steps back, lost his balance and fell in the fountain. I had to laugh at the sight.

"What's the—?" He said as he got out. He began to laugh to. "What's the matter with you?"

"See, you're more relaxed now. That suits you better."

"It might suit you better, too."

He grabbed me and lifted me. He was surprisingly strong.

"Waldo! No! Stop, what are you—!?"

And then I was in the water, too. He got in and began to splash me. I retaliated.

"Is this relaxed enough!?" he said.

"Shut up!"

We continued until we realized how stupid we looked. Waldo got out and helped me after. "This way, miss," he said. I splashed him one more time.

We got into the house. He insisted he couldn't let me go home in my wet clothes and that he could find me something to wear somewhere. As we got in I suspected Waldo was from Gallifrey and that his house had been built with Time Lord technology, because, I swear, even if it didn't look possible, it was way bigger on the inside.

"This place is huge!" I exclaimed

"I suppose," Waldo replied. "Come, I might have something in my room."

I followed him. Some might say that following a man to his chambers might not be an appropriate thing, according to Lori's memories, but considering Lori's profession I believe it didn't matter much. We got to his room. It was the size of Lori's apartment, just like the fountain.

"I might have something from my mum here," he said as he took his jacket off. Then his shirt. I couldn't get my eyes away from him. Suddenly I remembered how hungry I was. Now I wanted him, I wanted Waldo and I wanted him desperately. And not just me, Lori wanted him, too. Lori wanted to have this man. He wanted him and right now. And I could, I could just have him there, feed my hunger and get it quiet for a while. But that meant Waldo would have to die. And I didn't want that. He was just another human, another one who would eventually be rubbish, just like the rest of them. But I didn't want him to die. Still, I had my hunger. "I found this," he said giving me a shirt and a skirt. "Is this ok?"

"Yes, this will do."

I took it and began to undress. Waldo quickly turned away.

"Eh, um, don't you—would you like me to leave?" he said, or stuttered.

I grinned.

"Waldo, I'm a prostitute, remember?"

"Oh, yes, I know, it's just—it's not that, um—"

He placed his eyes on me, on my half-dressed body. I saw a burning desire in them, like a visual representation of what I was feeling inside. He came closer, grabbed my face and kissed me. I felt his hands on my legs lifting me. He dropped me on his bed. He was all over me. He was another man, another human male, but he felt entirely different. I wanted this man like I had never wanted another one, and Lori wasn't helping. I had decided it, I was having him there in his bed and I didn't care what happened next. I needed the energy, needed it. And if for some reason I was going to enjoy it more then so be it. I felt his hand on my knee. Everything kept getting better. He was raising his hand. It went higher, higher, higher—

I grabbed his arm and tightened my grip as hard as I could.

"No," I said.

"What?" a confused, lust-drunk Waldo asked.

"No, Waldo. We're not doing that."

I got out of bed. Waldo still looked confused.

"I don't, I don't—" he said.

"Waldo, I can't, I just—"and I looked at him again. I grabbed and kissed him. And I wanted him again. The desire wouldn't leave my body. I pulled him away. "I can't."

"But, Lori, I—"

"Don't say it!" I warned him. "I know what you're thinking and I don't want you to say it!"

"Why not? What I feel is real. Just because you don't believe in it doesn't mean—"

"I don't believe in it and neither should you! You know why I don't believe in it!? Because it's a lie, a big bloody lie used by people as an excuse to do the stupidest things. And if you listen to that lie tonight you're gonna do the stupidest mistake of your whole fucking life!"

Because that would be the end of it. It would be the last thing you ever do in your whole life.

"I don't understand," Waldo said. "You have… you know."

"What? I have sex every night? Yes, I do, Waldo, I have sex with lots of men, but they're men that don't matter and—"

I stopped myself. I made him smile. I denied him sex and I made him smile.

"I matter?" he asked.

"I didn't say that."

"But you—" he saw my face of disapproval. "That's fine, that's fine. And you don't have to sleep with me tonight, but it's late and you're wet. I insist you spend the night here in the guest room and I won't take no for an answer."

I took a few moments. I nodded.

"Alright, I'll stay."

"Thank you. Would you follow me please?"

He took the dry clothes and opened the door for me. He walked to another room, opened the door again and let me in.

"Here are your clothes, though now that I think of it you might need other kind of clothes to sleep. You'll find some in the drawers. You can wear these tomorrow. I'll leave you alone now. There's a restroom right there and if you need anything else you know where my room is."

"Thank you," I said.

"Have a good night."

"You too."

He left. I changed my clothes and dropped on the bed, hungry and tired.