Don't Mention the Rock Star

by Bree Darcy

  Nikki conceded the fact.

  “And we weren’t fourteen, Andy never got deported for killing someone and we didn’t die.”

  “Alright, alright. I get the message. But my point is I’ve never had feelings for anyone the way you did for him.” Nikki’s eyes bored into me. I knew what she was thinking, that I’d also never had feelings for anyone else like that either.

  “But then she met Curtis,” Dawn said.

  “And now … dum, dum, dum … Andy’s back on the scene. Tune in next time folks for the next exciting episode of The Not-so-Young and the Restless. Will Kellie get it on with the true love of her life or will- Owwww!” Nikki rubbed her shoulder where I’d whacked her.

  I turned to Dawn. “What would you do, in my circumstance?”

  “I would never have married another man in the first place.” And with that Dawn slid off the bar stool. “Come one, this music’s giving me a headache. Who wants to go to Pete’s Diner for a late-night kebab, for old times sake?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dan was over studying chemistry when Andy let himself in that evening. “Kell, I really need a shower. It was stinking hot in the warehouse and …” He stopped short when he saw Dan sitting at the dining table. “Oh, I didn’t realise you had company. Is it okay if I take a quick shower? I couldn’t be bothered stopping in at home first.”

  I followed him into the bathroom with a spare towel.

  “Who’s that?” Andy started stripping off.

  “That’s Daniel, from school. He was at Sean’s party. We’re cramming for a test.”

  “You know I can help you, ask questions and stuff.” He poured a dollop of shampoo into his palm and lathered up his hair.

  “We’re working on balancing equations, it’s quite complicated. I didn’t do so terrific on my last test and Dan’s really good at explaining it.”

  “He would be,” Andy grumbled.

  Dan got up as I returned to the kitchen. “I should go.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ve nearly got these chemical equations sussed. Now where were we – okay, so if one hydrogen molecule reacts with …”

  “Kellie!” Andy shouted from the bathroom. “Do you still have my Stone Roses tee because it’d be kinda nice to put on a fresh shirt?”

  “Excuse me a second,” I said to Dan before heading to my room to find the shirt. I tossed it and a pair of my drawstring shorts to Andy. “Put these on and I’ll wash your work clothes for you. They’ll dry in no time in this heat.”

  I was in the laundry when I overheard Andy: “So you’re at school with Kell?”

  “Uh-huh. We’ve known each other for years. We’ve always been close. Real close.”

  “So do you revise together much?”

  “Yeah, we do. We’re in most of the same classes. Kellie helps me out with essays and I help her out with maths and chem. It’s a partnership that works well.”

  “She’s pretty smart, isn’t she?” You could hear the pride in Andy’s voice.

  “Usually. Although occasionally she does something that makes me wonder if she’s lost her mind.”

  The boys were sitting in stony silence when I walked back in.

  * * *

  It was the last class before the long weekend. We were halfway through our history lesson when we heard a car roar on to the school grounds, with the Who talking – very loudly – about their generation.

  “Jess, pop outside and see where that racket’s coming from,” our teacher, Mr Taylor, told the girl closest to the door. We were temporarily housed in a demountable building right next to the carpark because our proper classroom had sprung a leak during a thunderstorm.

  “It’s some guy with long hair,” Jess reported back breathlessly. “In a red panel van.”

  I froze – and sensed Dan looking over slyly at me.

  “I think you’ll find that’s a friend of Kellie’s, sir,” he piped up.

  “It’s got to be Andy,” Nikki said to me, ventriloquist style. “Mr Taylor, do you want me to tell him to turn it down? He’s a lovely guy, really. It’s all a bit sad you see – Andy had to drop out of school because his dad died and …”

  “Yes, yes,” the teacher said, eager to cut off Nikki before she launched into a long-winded life history. “In fact …” Nikki paused at the door. “It’s boiling out, why don’t you tell him to come in. I’m sure if he’s a friend of Kellie’s, he’ll be charming.”

  Dan doubled over, faking a coughing fit.

  Please be dressed normally, I prayed. Please act normally.

  My heart sunk as Nikki bounced into the room, ahead of my boyfriend in baggy houndstooth checked shorts and a shrunken khaki Hail Mary Jane tee. His guitar case with various crude stickers was slung over his shoulder. He winked at me.

  “Hello, Andy,” welcomed Mr Taylor. “Pull up a chair over there.”

  Andy sloped over and plonked himself next to Dan. “Damian, we meet again.”

  “It’s Daniel, actually.”

  But Andy’s attention had already wandered. Addressing Mr Taylor, he said: “Hope you don’t mind I brought my guitar in with me – quite a few undesirables around this neighbourhood.” He smirked at Dan.

  “So Andy. I detect an American accent? What can you contribute to our discussion about McCarthyism?’

  “Probably not a lot.” He whipped a black band off his wrist and used it to tie a ponytail. “I’m more a John Lennon fan myself.”

  The class laughed, Dan louder than most.

  As Mr Taylor pointed out that the McCarthyism period in US history had everything to do with paranoia about communism and nothing to do with Beatlemania, I watched Andy out the corner of my eye.

  Grinning at anyone who looked his way, he fiddled with his car keys, picked at his cuticles, pulled at a thread on his shorts, repeatedly tapped a pen against the desk leg – he basically couldn’t sit still and pay attention for one second.

  Finally, the lesson drew to a close, with Mr Taylor handing out some worksheets. “May I remind you all there is a multiple-choice test on Tuesday, these questions will help you prepare.”

  Amid the groans, Andy tossed a paper plane towards a ceiling fan.

  “You’re all too preoccupied now thinking about your weekend so perhaps we’ll finish up by asking our guest to play a song. You can actually play that thing, right?” Mr Taylor asked, nodding at the guitar case.

  “Would I like to play some chords, rather than listen to boring stuff that happened years before we were born, you betcha. How about a bit of Lennon? I was thinking Daniel might appreciate Jealous Guy but maybe this one’s better.” Andy launched into Watching the Wheels. He sang so beautifully about dreaming his life away I nearly forgave him for interrupting my class.

  When the siren sounded, Mr Taylor pulled me aside. “Kellie, you have an important year ahead of you. It’s make-or-break next year.”

  If us senior students had heard this lecture once, we’d heard it a million times.

  Mr Taylor glanced over at Andy, who was showing off his eyebrow piercing to a small gathering. “I have come across a number of smart-arse layabouts in my time,” he continued. “And without fail, ten years down the track they’re stuck in some dead-end job or on the dole. Don’t let him pull you down with him. You’re much better than that.”

  I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that teachers had nothing nice to say about John Lennon either.

  No sooner had I finished assuring my teacher I had no intention of being distracted from my studies, I was cornered by Stacey, who’d been making all the other girls feel inadequate ever since she sprouted her ginormous boobs back in year nine.

  “I can’t believe that Russian revolution guy wrote such good music,” she said. But before I could explain that Lenin and Lennon were two completely different people, she launched into her spiel.

  “So I was thinking, you know, my party tonight,” she tittered, scrunching her frizzy blonde hair. “You must have got my invitation.”

&nbs
p; “No, I didn’t.”

  “Well I definitely slipped one in your locker,” the blatant liar countered. “So I was thinking that Andy – was that his name? – could come along and sing. Does he do Bryan Adams or Bon Jovi – ooh I love Boyz II Men too. No one’s had a singer for their birthday yet. It would be so totally fab.”

  “Gee Stacey, I bet Andy would love nothing better than to perform at your party but we’re going away this weekend.”

  “Away? Where?”

  “We’re heading up to Lancelin. We’re sand duning first thing in the morning.”

  “Oh, that’s such a shame. Maybe you could go another time. I’ll pop over and ask.”

  “Andy,” she simpered, weaselling her way in between him and Nikki. “Hi. I’m Stacey.” She waggled her fingers at him. He waggled his back.

  “I’m sure Kellie’s told you all about me. We’re such good friends.”

  Excuse me while I puke.

  “She says you’re going away this weekend but I’d really, really like you to come sing at my party tonight.” Stacey twirled a curl and squeezed her cleavage, just in case Andy had missed her biggest assets. “You can’t say no to a girl on her birthday now, can you?” She pouted so hard her lower lip nearly jutted out more than her chest.

  Andy shook his head. “Sorry, no can do. I’ve already paid for our accommodation. But if you’re desperate for some live music, I’ll give you the number of this really great band I play with. The lead singer, Jeff, is awesome.”

  Later that night, rugged up on the beach, listening to the waves crash in, we pondered whether Stacey was enjoying her party. “What did you mean, you’d paid for our accommodation?” I asked, remembering his excuse to Stacey. “Aren’t we sleeping in the back of the van?”

  “Well, I did have to buy a sleeping bag.”

  * * *

  It was the final week before exams and I could hear Mum and Andy laughing at Friends in the lounge room. The more I tried to block them out, the more their chortles irritated me. Finally I stormed out.

  “Some of us have to study around here, you know. We don’t get to lounge around and watch TV all day. So if you wouldn’t mind keeping it down, thank you!”

  I slammed my door and tried to reconcentrate on my notes. There was a timid knock as Andy popped his head in.

  “Sorry,” he said, putting on his best hangdog expression.

  “It’s not fair,” I whined. “Why can’t everyone be having as miserable a time as me?”

  “You’re right, give me one of your textbooks, I’ll suffer with you.”

  I ran my finger down my stack, pausing momentarily at my thickest maths ones – I’m cruel but not that cruel – before pulling out a dog-earred copy of Hamlet.

  “I’ll take notes too.” Andy stuck a pen behind his ear. “I’ll need one of those highlighter thingies.”

  “No way, don’t go making any marks in my book, you’ll only confuse me. Use this.”

  I threw him a spare notebook.

  Andy sat on the bed and started reading intently, occasionally pausing to write something down. “You sure this is in English?”

  You might think that having Andy in the room would be a distraction but it wasn’t. I swear, Mr Taylor, it wasn’t. It was comforting more than anything. Like how his mother always had the radio on in the background. Even when she went to bed at night, Maria left the radio on low. She said it became a habit when her husband died, the hum of conversation made her feel like she wasn’t alone.

  When I looked over later, Andy had fallen asleep with the book on his chest. He only made it to the bit where the ghost of Hamlet’s father first appeared. Among his scribblings on the notepad were some lyrics to a song called Outta Her Mind. It became Danger Game’s second single.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “So?” I clambered on to the exercise bike next to Nikki, motioning at her to remove her earbuds. “How’d it go?”

  Nikki had been on a date with a new producer from her Sonic FM radio station the night before.

  She pulled a face. “Methinks I’m getting too old for dating.” She eased the bike speed, never once taking her eyes off herself in the wall-to-wall mirrors of her gym. Her dark blonde hair was slicked back into a ponytail so tight it gave a mini facelift effect.

  Terrified of growing old, Nikki tried every age-defying potion and lotion she could get her hands on. I had to explain once that buying wrinkle-resistant sheets did not mean she’d wake up in the morning with a line-free face.

  “Nonsense,” I told her now. “You’re in the prime of your life. How old was he this time?”

  Nikki was a firm believer in the adage you’re only as old as the man you feel.

  “Twenty-nine. And three-quarters.”

  I quickly did the cougar maths – half her age plus seven years was the acceptable limit. Twenty-nine scraped in.

  “It was going so well. Drinks at the Skybar, dinner at the Boathouse, coffee at his East Perth pad … and that’s when I discovered the fatal flaw.”

  I rolled my eyes. Nikki’s reasons for why a potential partner fell at the first hurdle were many and varied. Still living with his mother (although still living with his wife didn’t seem to bother her), being called Bernard, being a noisy eater, keeping a pet tarantula, owning a Star Wars quilt cover.

  “He had a blockmounted poster of Miley Cyrus on his wall.”

  I cringed but decided to jump to her date’s defence. “Perhaps it wasn’t his. A flatmate’s maybe?”

  “He lives alone.” Nikki slid off the bike, examining the backs of her thighs for cellulite. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let you talk me out of getting that boob job, I could have got a butt lift thrown in.” Nikki sighed, pinching her flesh. “I can’t compete with all that youthful vitality and tongue wagging. So I’ve decided, no more dating men who ogle girls who weren’t even born in the same century as me.”

  “It could have been worse,” I grinned, deciding not to point out that Miley was born in the same century as us. “It could have been a poster of Justin Bieber.”

  “Eewww.” Nikki threw her sweat towel at me.

  * * *

  “Can you believe it’s been over twenty years since you met the Shrimp?”

  There was only one other person in the sauna with us – a balding man with red swim shorts stretched tight across his hairy belly. I think it was safe to assume he wouldn’t figure out who Nikki was talking about.

  “I don’t even want to think about how much time has passed.” My sweaty thighs made a thwacking noise as I lifted them from the bench, repositioning them to look thinner.

  We continued to make small talk until the man left through the wooden door. Nikki ladled more water on to the heat outlet. “Truth time. Do you ever regret breaking up with him?”

  “I don’t ever think about it…” – Nikki gave me a look – “…not much anyway.”

  “Oh come on. I know you’ve been madly texting back and forth. Surely you must wonder what it’d be like to be with him again.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Now he’s not some fumbling, inexperienced boy?”

  I shrugged, glad my red face could be excused on the sauna heat. Nikki was all too willing to share her sexploits and let me live through her dates vicariously. In fact I could see her happily sharing her intimate moments on air with the Woodsy and Murph audience, if she could be sure her mother wasn’t listening in. But my time with Andy had always been out of bounds. I’d never kissed and told, as much as she tried to wheedle it out of me. In fact, there were things about the last time I saw Andy that she had no idea about.

  Nikki continued: “Don’t you find it weird that you ended up with Curtis, who’s so completely different?”

  The chalk and cheese nature of my first boyfriend and husband was something I had privately contemplated many times. “Remember when we did that Cosmo quiz to find out the attributes of our ideal guy,” I said, wiping the sweat dripping into my cleavage.

  “Yes I do!” Nikki e
xclaimed. “I was after someone with Johnny Depp’s face, Jon Bon Jovi’s hair and a bod like Brad Pitt’s.”

  “Well, none of what I listed described Andy. He was so far from my ideal … but somehow we clicked. It must have been an aberration though – a mad teen hormonal thing – because on paper Curtis is definitely more my type.”

  “I prefer to judge my type in bed rather than on paper.” Nikki looked thoughtful. “Maybe that’s my problem, maybe I need to start using my Cosmo checklist again.”

  “You’ll need to update it,” I smiled. “Even Jon Bon Jovi doesn’t have Jon Bon Jovi hair anymore.”

  A group of seniors crammed into the sauna so Nikki and I headed out to shower off.

  “Look,” I told her, twisting my torso under the spray. “I’m under no illusion that if I met Andy for the first time today, he wouldn’t look twice at me. Rock stars don’t go for ordinary. But if I’m being honest, I do miss him. So I’d love to see him again – as a friend. But what are the chances I’ll get that opportunity any time soon? He’s busy recording and I’m not likely to receive an open invitation from Siena to visit, am I?”

  I eased myself back into the pool, tensing up as my body hit the cool water.

  Nikki did an effortless dive into the deep end before swimming over to me. “Just friends, huh? If Andy came up to you right now, and said ‘you, me, let’s get it on,’ what would you say?”

  “Is he wearing Speedos or board shorts?”

  “Be serious.”

  “I’d have to say no.” I said it more as a question than a statement.

  * * *

  We were sitting at an alfresco cafe table, enjoying our post-gym treat of a latte and macaron, when I spotted trouble. “Mayday, mayday, your mother’s coming this way,” I hissed.

  “Great,” Nikki muttered, pulling down her shirt to cover her belly ring.

  “Yoohoo, girls!” Mrs Palmer called. “Nice to see you again, Kellie. Nicola told me you were visiting.”

  “What are you doing around here, Mum? A bit out of your way, isn’t it?”

  Mrs Palmer informed us she’d been to see a specialist. “Having a bit of trouble ‘down there’,” she said sotto voice. “And how’s your poor mother, dear?” Her loud, patronising tone swung back into full force.