Off the Record Read Online Free Page A

before adding a couple of lies about her own ‘experience’ with him.
    At least the others had pretended to like him, even if they never tried to get below the surface. If they had they’d have soon realised that he deliberately played up to a false image in order to maintain his privacy. Kate had fallen for it, hated it, and decided to run with it anyway.
    It all seemed so simple, so much the pattern for every encounter he had with beautiful women. But there was something about Kate Armstrong. When she looked at him, even when she was glaring at him, she seemed to reach out and snag him. Was there the slightest chance she was something rare in the publishing world – an honest woman? He smiled. Nah! On that thought he let himself back into the suite.
    His father was looking out at the grey sky over London, the red buses and people hurrying along below, so lost in thought that he didn’t even ask about what had happened with Kate.
    ‘Hey, Dad, what’s up? You’re looking mighty serious, man.’
    He shook his head. ‘Nothing, son. Just thinking.’
    ‘Trying to figure out how to survive on warm beer for the next couple of months?’
    ‘Actually, no. I was thinking about Kate Armstrong’s mother.’
    ‘The Dream Woman ,’ Paul nodded. ‘I wondered if she’d surface when we hit London. I just didn’t figure it would happen so soon.’
    Johnson frowned. ‘How come?’
    ‘Dad, I know all your albums, and Dream Woman has been my favourite for ever. I grew up with it. Like Kate said, it didn’t take much to figure out that it was about an English woman who walked away.’
    ‘I’ve never denied that.’
    ‘No, but you’ve never confirmed anything either. That’s what fascinates people.’
    ‘It was decades ago. History. Can I help it if I would rather look forward?’
    ‘Well you’d better be ready for more speculation, Dad. Especially now you’ve landed in England.’
    ‘What has that got to do with anything?’
    Paul began pacing, enjoying his father’s discomfort. ‘Elementary, my dear Watson,’ he intoned in a creditable imitation of Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes. ‘One, the woman has dark hair and green eyes, just like the delicious Miss Armstrong. Two, she leaves you to cross the ocean – everyone’s guess is she goes to England because you’ve hardly ever been here despite your success in the British charts. Three, there are references in the songs to places in Indiana, where you grew up. Four, my grandparents gave me your high school year book when I graduated. They thought I’d get a kick out of seeing you in your senior year, and there she was – an English exchange student called Alexandra Black. I figured it out years ago, Dad. Chances are plenty of others will too. Maybe after all these years your Dream Woman is going to come back and haunt you. I’m only surprised that some of the other journos haven’t asked about her.’ He stopped pacing and faced his father. ‘So, now you’ve met her daughter, are you going to look her up?’
    ‘Hell, no!’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because the story is over thirty years old. Besides, what would I have in common with an English widow living in – where was it she said? – Wiltshire? Where is that?’
    ‘I have no idea.’
    He shrugged. ‘Anyway, I doubt a middle-aged hausfrau struggling to keep the family business going will conjure up the same feelings that the teenager did.’
    ‘Yeah, not everyone wears as well as you, Dad,’ Paul smiled and shook his head.
    Johnson sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, resting it on the back of his neck. ‘Look, son, I admit I’m curious, but leave it alone, OK? It was a long time ago. It’s not healthy to go back.’
    Paul looked at his father considering whether or not push it. He loved his dad, and wanted him to be happy. This Alexandra, or Sandy as he’d called her, had made him real happy once, although judging by the lyrics in the Dream Woman album, she’d hurt him but good too.