Hating the Rock Star

by Hamel, B. B.

  I text him back. “I’m on my way. Won’t be late.”

  He answers immediately. “Karl is having a stroke. See ya soon.”

  I grin and slip my phone back into my pocket. Grace comes out a couple minutes later, and I stare at her for a second.

  She’s wearing tight black jeans that hug her hips and a sweater that shows off just enough of her midriff. Her hips stand out, gorgeous and kissable. Her hair’s down and she’s wearing gray heels, not too high but just high enough to make her ass look fantastic.

  “Ready?” she asks, her bag slung across her chest, pressing her breasts out just a touch.

  “Ready,” I say, forcing myself not to stare.

  We head downstairs together, and I hail a cab again. It takes us around to the back of the venue and we sneak in, past the security, and in toward the green room.

  Karl spots us as soon as we get close. He comes hustling over. I can feel the energy of the crowd, hear them chanting and cheering.

  “No time,” Karl says. “You gotta get out there.”

  I glance at Grace. “Stay near the stage,” I say to her.

  “Okay.” She smiles a little.

  I let Karl lead me away, Grace right behind us. I don’t bother looking at any of the other groupies hanging around. The other guys are arrayed just off to the side. Nathan ignores me as I join them and Chase grins.

  “Made it just in time,” he says.

  “Hope you don’t sound like shit,” Landon adds.

  “Let’s go wreck this fucking show,” I say.

  That gets a little smile from Nathan. We head out onto the stage and I glance to my left as we get settled, the crowd cheering the whole time.

  Grace smiles at me, head cocked to one side, as the opening notes of the first song peal out from Nathan’s guitar, Landon’s drums stomp a furious rhythm, and I open my mouth to sing.

  9

  Grace

  It feels like he’s singing to me.

  I know everyone in the crowd probably feels that way. Joss has a special touch, a way about him that makes people feel special. Just being near him is almost intoxicating.

  But in my case… I think it’s true.

  He keeps looking over, making eye contact, and holding it. I keep feeling chills run down my spine.

  Like last night, he transforms from the guy on his hands and knees helping me finish that puzzle to the rock star melting everyone’s heart. I don’t know how he does it, but even I’m completely taken.

  And right now, I’m supposed to hate him.

  He’s so arrogant. That whole speech about him fucking a bunch of groupies made me want to gag. I get it, he’s a manwhore, a big man slut, and he’s super proud of it. Only an arrogant man like that could possibly say everything he said with a straight face.

  But then there was the puzzle, the way we worked in silence, so close to each other.

  It was intoxicating. I know he felt it too. His fingers touched mine, lingering for a little too long. We’d lock eyes but quickly go back to work, almost embarrassed by how close we were. It was incredible.

  And it made him seem almost human.

  He was the total opposite of that guy on stage right now. He was down to earth, a normal person doing a puzzle, nothing more. I forgot all about our marriage, all about how much of an ass he can be. For a few hours, we were just people.

  It’s strange, how that can suddenly feel special when you’re in the middle of a totally insane situation.

  The show is really good. The guys play their whole new album plus some of their more popular songs, and play their best song as an encore. The crowd loves it, every single second. They’re screaming, cheering, freaking out, dancing, singing. It’s so high energy, so intense, and the guys feed off it. Even Nathan looks incredible up there, ripping his solos.

  When they finally finish, it’s like they’re all high. They come off the stage, laughing and joking, making fun of each other. Joss throws his arm around me and pulls me along. I catch a few jealous glares from the girls around us, from Justine in particular.

  “You missed the fucking second verse,” Landon says to Nathan. “That little fill? Deeder-needer-needer.” He moves his fingers, imitating guitar playing.

  Nathan grins. “Is that how I sound? Shit, I quit the band right now.”

  They all laugh. “He’s not as bad as Joss,” Chase cuts in. “Why’d you keep looking off the stage, man?”

  Joss looks down at me and quickly back at Chase. “No reason.”

  Nathan’s face goes cloudy but he doesn’t look at me.

  “Probably trying to seduce his little wife there,” Landon says as we burst into the green room. They don’t push the subject though as Chase and Landon both grab beers and start mingling with the girls. Nathan gets pulled aside by Karl and Joss turns to me.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “Huh?” I say. “Don’t you want to celebrate?”

  He shrugs. “We can celebrate somewhere else.”

  “But I mean, with the guys.”

  “Come on.” He grabs my hand. It’s firm, slightly damp, but it feels good.

  “Okay,” I say. “Let’s go.”

  He leads us away from the green room. More looks are thrown my way, but whatever. I’m immune to them. It all bounces off my skin.

  Joss wants to leave with me. He wants to pass up on partying with his bandmates, hanging out with groupies, all that stuff, just to spend time with me.

  My heart’s beating fast as we burst out the back into the cool night air. We hurry away from the venue, taking some back streets.

  “Don’t wanna get caught by fans,” he says to me by way of explanation. “Gotta walk fast.”

  We head north, up Third Street, past a school and a church. As we come near Cypress, Joss cuts west suddenly. “I think there’s a…” he says, trailing off. “There it is.”

  Up ahead is a small concrete park with a brick central area and several benches surrounded by a brick wall. He leads me in and toward the back. We sit on a bench across from an empty playground.

  I watch him for a second as he kicks his legs out, takes a deep breath, and lets it out. “What are you thinking?” I ask him impulsively, not sure why it comes out.

  “Nothing really,” he says. “I always have to decompress after a show. It’s like… it lingers, that feeling.”

  I lean closer to him. I can feel the heat rising off his body. He looks gorgeous in the moonlight and the streetlight, shadowed and stark and handsome.

  “What do you mean, it lingers?”

  “That feeling up there. I know it’s cliché, but it really is like a drug. It never really leaves you, especially not right away.” He lets out a breath. “It’s why we do this.”

  “I thought you did it because you make millions of dollars and everyone loves you.”

  He laughs softly, shaking his head. “I mean, yeah, obviously the money is fucking great. Don’t get me wrong. But if I had to do this without touring, I don’t know if I could handle it.”

  That surprises me. “I always thought touring was the hardest part?”

  He shrugs a little, face thoughtful. “Not exactly. I mean, it is, and it isn’t. Driving around all the time, never in the same place each night, yeah, it can be a fucking drag. But that’s not the real bad stuff.”

  “What’s the bad stuff?”

  His eyes darken slightly. “When you’re a rock star like this, you’re not your own person. You don’t own yourself.” He shakes his head. “I’m not explaining it very well.”

  “I think I understand,” I say softly.

  “Everything I do is judged. Every move I make is scrutinized. It’s like I’m not human anymore to most people. I’m just an image of something they want me to be. And don’t get me started on the press, the tabloids, the reviewers. I’m okay with them being critical, but when they want me to act like some kind of…” He trails off, reaching for the word.

  “Monster?”

/>   He nods. “Monster. They want me to be a monster. That sells better. And it’s hard not to feed into that.”

  “Do the other guys feel this way?” I ask him softly.

  He shrugs. “Nathan does, but we don’t talk about it. Chase does sometimes, but he’s the bassist, you know? He’s usually just happy people know his name.”

  “And Landon?”

  “Landon really is a monster.” He grins at me. “The guy doesn’t have to try at all.”

  I laugh along with him, although I’m not sure if he’s joking or if he’s serious.

  “I shouldn’t complain though,” he says. “This is what I signed up for, you know.”

  “You can still complain,” I say. “I mean, you’re in a weird position. Not many people get where you are.”

  “And yet everyone wants to be.”

  “Yeah, they do. Except me.”

  He arches an eyebrow, an amused little smile. “No? Don’t wanna be a rock star?”

  “Not at all,” I say. “Money would be nice, like you said, but all the other stuff…” I trail off and shrug. “Anyway, I have zero musical talent.”

  “I doubt that’s true.”

  “No, seriously. I can’t keep a tune. I can’t play an instrument. I’m basically tone deaf.”

  “So why are you in the music business?”

  “I love it anyway,” I say. “I want to go into managing or marketing or, I don’t know, any of the million support jobs. I just love music.”

  He laughs softly. “You sound like me, back before we got famous.”

  “Losing your innocence?”

  “Probably,” he says.

  We lapse into silence. I study him as he looks out across the park. There’s nobody else around and I wonder if I should be worried about that, but I’m not.

  He’s not what I thought he was. There’s more to him than I thought, much more. He’s an arrogant asshole, a womanizer, a manwhore, a dickhead… but he has secrets. He has a past, and he feels things like any other person.

  There’s depth. It’s impressive.

  He looks at me, a little smile on his lips. “What?” he asks. “You’re staring.”

  “Oh,” I say, blushing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “No, I get it. Not like people don’t stare at me all the time. Just different, coming from you.”

  “Really? Different, how?”

  He leans toward me. “I actually like it when you stare at me.”

  I meet his gaze for a second, and I know. My heart starts beating fast. I know what he’s thinking. I know what he wants.

  It hits me like lightning. I want it too.

  “I can keep staring, if you want.”

  “That’s okay.” He reaches up, hand on my face. I have to stifle a groan.

  He leans forward, face tipped to one side. I meet his lips halfway, fire and thunder.

  It rolls down me. Ounce after ounce of pleasure and desire, hitting all at once.

  The kiss feels like it lasts forever. I remember the last time we kissed through the drunken haze. I remember marrying him and thinking, “I’ll regret this, but right now, I love it.”

  That’s exactly how I feel. I might regret this kiss. But right now, it feels so, so freaking good. I can’t stop, even if I wanted to.

  A phone’s insistent buzzing breaks the spell. He pulls back with a smile as I reach for my bag. “Not mine,” I say.

  He sighs. His phone is tucked into a pocket inside his jacket. He pulls it out and answers it.

  “Yeah?” he grunts. He listens for a second. “You have bad fucking timing, you know that?” He listens again and sighs. “Fine. We’ll be there.” He hangs up and slowly stands.

  “Time to go?” I ask.

  “Time to go.” He reaches out and takes my hand. “Real life is calling.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He sighs, looking grim.

  “Someone unleashed the monster, and I gotta go clean up the damn mess.”

  I don’t ask him what that means as we head toward a main road, looking to hail a cab.

  10

  Joss

  “I’m the fucking Lizard King!”

  Landon smashes the trashcan down onto the floor, hooting like an animal. He jumps up onto the bed and grabs a pillow, attempting to rip it into pieces.

  “Who?” I ask him.

  “The Lizard King!” he yells. “The fucking Lizard King!”

  I look at Chase, frowning. “Isn’t that what Robert California calls himself in The Office.”

  Chase nods. “Oh yeah. Those later seasons are really underrated.”

  “What?” Landon pauses for a second. “No, no, what the fuck? The Office? I’m talking Jim Morrison.”

  I stare at him flatly. “Who?”

  “The fucking Doors, man. The fucking Doors!”

  “Which door?”

  He hollers as Chase laughs behind me. Landon finally manages to tear the pillow open and stuffing flies all over the place.

  The room is a wreck. There’s some poor groupie hiding in the bathroom, too freaked out to come out. Chase had to call me to come talk some sense into the fucking moron before he gets us kicked out of here.

  As it is, he’s racking up a serious hotel bill.

  This is practically a rite of passage around here. Rock stars get wasted and ruin their rooms. Except with Landon, it happens pretty much all the time.

  And it’s really fucking annoying.

  “Okay, okay, I’m just messing with you.” I walk toward him, hands up in the air, as he grabs onto the curtains, trying to yank them down. He already broke the mirror, smashed one nightstand, tore the bedding, and scattered garbage all over the place.

  I’m not so much worried about him as I am annoyed. I got pulled away from kissing Grace for this shit.

  From heaven to rock star hell.

  Grace lingers near the door, a worried look on her face. She probably thinks Landon is going insane, but I know he’s just blowing off some steam. He gets like this sometimes, when he drinks too much or some girl dumps him or something like that. He gets wasted and starts smashing shit up, like as soon as his higher brain functions start to shut down, all he wants to do is destroy.

  “Listen, man, you gotta bring it down a level.”

  He glares over his shoulder at me. “What the fuck do you know? I’m the fucking Lizard King.”

  He heaves at the curtains and manages to yank the holder from the wall. He topples back, bouncing off the bed and landing on the floor as the curtain rod crashes to the floor.

  “Shit,” he says, a little woozy.

  I walk over and extend my hand. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” He takes it and I help him up. He sits on the bed and I sit next to him.

  “What happened?” I ask. “Why are you wrecking this room?”

  He sighs, glancing over at Chase and Grace in the doorway. Chase turns and hustles Grace out of there, and the door softly clicks shut.

  “Couldn’t get it up,” he mumbles. His words are slightly slurred now that he’s not shouting.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You fucking heard me. Couldn’t get it up.” He looks down at his dick.

  I have to stifle a laugh. I’ve never had that problem, not a single time, no matter how drunk. My dick is always ready when I want it to be. I always figured that was a problem only old dudes had.

  “So you took it out on the room?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Shit, Joss. I was embarrassed. I yelled at the poor girl.”

  “Scared the shit out of her. She’s hiding in the bathroom.”

  He groans and flops back onto the bed. “I wouldn’t have hurt her, okay?”

  “I know that,” I say softly. He may wreck rooms, but he doesn’t hurt people.

  Not yet, at least. The thought occurs to me, but I banish it as fast as I can.

  “I just felt stupid, like a fucking pathetic pussy. My own fucking dick wouldn’t get hard.” He swats at hi
s crotch like he’s trying to beat life into it.

  “I get the picture,” I say. “Stop whacking yourself.”

  He ignores me. “I just want my fucking dick to work, bro.”

  “I know, man.” I take the hand he’s using to whack at his ding-dong and I push it aside. Mercifully, he stops. “But we talked about this.”

  He hesitates. I know he remembers the last time this happened, what we talked about in the morning. “This isn’t the same.”

  “Yes, it is. What did I tell you?”

  Another long pause. “You said I can’t destroy hotel rooms anymore. That I gotta call you when it gets real bad.”

  “Right.”

  “But this is a good reason.” He sits up suddenly. “My fucking dick wouldn’t work! Do you know how embarrassing that is?”

  “I can guess, but listen, man. If you keep this up, Karl’s going to throw you off this tour.”

  He gapes at me. “I’m the fucking drummer.”

  “He can replace any one of us,” I say softly. “Including me.”

  “That sweaty little monkey motherfu—”

  “Landon,” I warn before he can really get going. “Stop, okay? You gotta stop. If you wreck another room, I don’t know if I can help you.”

  The anger slowly drains from his face. He goes quiet, and I think he might have fallen asleep sitting up. I stand to go let the poor groupie out of the bathroom when he looks at me.

  “This band is all I got,” he says softly. “I don’t have a home, I barely have any real friends, especially not since we blew up. The band’s all I got. Playing drums on stage, really killing it up there… it’s everything to me.”

  “Then don’t lose it,” I tell him. “Keep it together.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” He leans back onto the bed again. “I got this. Keeping it together.”

  I stand there a second longer in case he’s going to start talking again, but he doesn’t. I head over to the bathroom door and open it, surprised to find it unlocked. Huddled in the bathtub is a cute girl, blonde and fit, maybe in her twenties.

  “You okay?” I ask her.

  She nods. “Is he…?”

  “Asleep now, I think. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”