The Pop Star Next Door

by Aleah Barley

“What?” She glanced up, obviously surprised at his offer. “No, of course not.”

  “I insist.” He moved the glasses of lemonade to the kitchen table, unsure of what to say next. Anna Howard. It really had been too long. “How long are you going to be in town?”

  She was staring, her eyes wide. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. Nervous.

  Not that she really needed to answer his question. He’d helped pound in the realtor’s sign a few days earlier.

  “Let me guess, you’re here to sell your grandfather’s house.”

  “How long do you think that will take?

  “I don’t know.” She drew her legs up underneath her body. “When are your parents going to be home?”

  “My parents?” Nick laughed. “They’re in Florida. They moved out there a couple of years ago to be close to my mom’s siblings.”

  Anna picked up her lemonade glass, holding it in both hands. Taking one sip then another. She licked her painted lips, and Nick’s heart started pounding against his ribs.

  The girl he’d known ten years earlier had been natural, genuine. She’d worn a translucent lip-gloss, adding sparkles for special occasions and nothing else.

  Now, her makeup was striking on top of skin made pale by emotion. Foundation, blush, bronzer, lipstick, lip liner, eyeliner, eye shadow, all cleverly applied in artful layers to make the most of her wide eyes, sweet lips, and high cheekbones.

  Another sip.

  “What about your wife?” she asked.

  “No wife,” Nick explained quickly, “It’s just me and Adam. What about you? Are you married?

  She blinked, impossibly long lashes flickering against her cheek. “Am I married…you don’t know?”

  “No, why? Was Bill supposed to tell me?” She’d married money. That explained her fancy shoes. “What does he do?”

  “He doesn’t—I’m not married.”

  “Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

  “What?” She laughed. “No, I’m straight. I live alone. When I’m even at home. I just got back from Europe. Milan, Dresden, St. Petersburg. Have you ever been to Europe?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s beautiful. Everything’s so different. I didn’t actually get a chance to see much of it, but one of the guys that I was traveling with got some pictures. There are some really good ones of the fountains in Rome.”

  His words had thrown her off balance. She was babbling. That was okay.

  She was cute when she babbled.

  Nick had never been to Europe. The furthest he’d been from home was a trip to San Francisco for his honeymoon. He sipped his lemonade, not really tasting the sour drink.

  “What is it that you do?”

  “I’m a singer.” She looked at him, her gaze wide and expectant. Like that was supposed to mean something to him. It didn’t.

  Nick didn’t know any singers named Anna Howard, but he didn’t listen to much music. He had some classic rock CDs that he played while he was driving and some rhythm and blues that he put on for office parties, but most of the music that he listened to was from Fantasia. When he turned on the radio every morning, it was to hear the news. Local, national, international, he was an information junkie. Popular music had nothing to do with any of that.

  “I’ve never heard of you. Sorry.”

  “You’re not exactly my target audience.” She finished off her lemonade then laughed nervously. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a landscape designer.”

  “Huh.” There was a quiet pause. “How do you get into that?”

  “It’s really the only option for a botany major, fine arts minor.”

  There was a moment’s silence, both of them digesting that information. Adam finally broke the silence, grabbing Anna’s dress and giving it a sharp tug, creating a fresh tear in the delicate pink dress.

  “My best friend’s name is Annie,” he announced. “She has superpowers. She can do a cartwheel.”

  Even if Nick lived to be a hundred, his son would still never stop being able to surprise him. Adam just looked at the world in a different way.

  Anna’s grin was wide and honest, proving that underneath her sleek good looks, fancy clothing, and heavily applied makeup, she was still the same Anna Howard.

  Nick still didn’t know why she’d never called him—it still bothered him that she hadn’t come back for the funeral—but there was something miraculous about her smile.

  It reminded him of good times, lying on the grass, staring up at the clouds. Back then they would talk about anything from the previous night’s television shows to the rude shapes in the clouds, and then she would turn towards him with that grin on her face. So open and honest.

  He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d seen anyone smile like that.

  “Dad!” Adam frowned; clearly unaware of what was going on over his head. “It’s dinner time.”

  “I guess that’s my signal to go,” Anna laughed, stepping back carefully.

  “Can I give you a ride to your hotel?”

  “Hotel?” Anna repeated.

  “You are staying at a hotel, right?” He was becoming used to the confused look on her face. Every time he asked her about something too difficult her eyes would widen, her mouth would twitch. There would be no frown, no smile, just that little twitch.

  He was the one frowning.

  “Where are you planning to stay?”

  “My old bedroom. Remember?”

  He remembered her bedroom; pink and white sheets, creamy wallpaper with delicate red flowers stretching towards the ceiling. It had been decorated for Anna back before they’d hung out together. The first time she’d visited Mill City, she’d been six years old and he’d been nine.

  Way too old to play with girls.

  She’d arrived in a yellow taxi, dragging a Barbie suitcase, her head raised up high trying to hide her tears. A week later, Bill Howard had borrowed his father’s stepladder to hang the wallpaper.

  That had been back when Bill cared about his house. He was always getting out his tools to fix something, whether it was broken or not.

  A few years after Anna had stopped coming to visit, Bill had stopped taking care of his house. He’d started carrying his tool kit around town, fixing other people’s broken windows while he boarded up his own. Helping old Mrs. O’Reilly across the road clean out her garage while magazines gathered in his living room.

  Eventually, he’d stopped going upstairs altogether, moving all of his stuff down into the big kitchen.

  Nick couldn’t imagine what it looked like inside, and the long months that it had stood empty probably hadn’t helped.

  “You shouldn’t stay there tonight, Anna. You should go to a hotel, get some dinner, and come back to look at the house in the daylight.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The condition of your grandfather’s house.”

  She shook her head. “The house is fine. I was just looking at it.”

  “Did you go inside?”

  “I’m sure it’s fine.”

  “You should go inside before you make your final decision,” he warned. “I could go with you if you don’t mind waiting. I just need to put Adam to bed for the night, and then we can go over.”

  “I need to do this by myself.” Anna stood up fast, smoothing her dress. She ran her fingers through her hair, smiling. “Papa Billy would have wanted me to do this by myself.”

  Bill would have wanted her to visit, but Nick didn’t say it. Pointing out the pain caused by Anna’s absence wouldn’t help a dead man; it would just make the woman feel guilty. It would be like kicking a puppy.

  Letting her walk into the house by herself wouldn’t exactly help either, but Adam needed to eat dinner. He had school in the morning, and Nick had to go to work early. He was a small town guy, with a packed calendar and a carefully planned life. His life wasn’t going to change just because Anna Howard decided to stop in on her way back from Europe.

  Still, the thought of her standi
ng alone amidst the proof of her grandfather’s failing mind had him eager to reach out and wrap her in his arms. He wanted to protect her, both the girl she’d been, and the woman she’d become. Whatever her faults were, she didn’t deserve what was about to happen.

  “Call me if you need anything. My number’s in the book.”

  It was too late; she was already walking out the door into a dangerous truth. He sighed, wishing that the lemonade in his glass was spiked with something stronger.

  But, there was no time for regrets. Not when he had a hungry six-year-old on his hands.

  “Can we have ice cream for dessert?” Adam asked.

  “Whatever you want.”

  Chapter Three

  The spare keys were still underneath the flower pot on the porch. Anna let herself into the house, taking a deep breath.

  Underneath the scent of dust and paper, she could smell Papa Billy’s laundry detergent and the cigars that he snuck when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  Reaching out, she flipped the light switch. Electricity popped and fizzled. For a moment, everything was illuminated, the green wallpaper, the wooden china hutch, and her grandparents’ wedding portrait hanging above the fireplace.

  The bulb burnt out, throwing everything back into darkness.

  It didn’t matter. Anna didn’t need to be able to see to find her bedroom. She started up the stairs.

  Her cell phone started ringing.

  A pop rock version of Bad to the Bone blaring through tiny pink speakers, one of her assistants had programmed the phone the last time she was in Los Angeles. That particular ringtone had been assigned to her agent, the same agent she’d had since she was fourteen years old.

  The man who’d wandered out of her mother’s bedroom in a pair of red silk boxers and discovered her while she was singing show tunes by the pool.

  Her publicist must have finally gotten in touch with him.

  Anna reached into her purse to retrieve her phone before Daryl called the police, or worse, some small town lawyer eager to have an out-of-state billing. “What’s up?”

  “Darryl,” She answered with a smile. “What can I do for you today?”

  “You can tell me that you did not tell your publicist to get lost. You can tell me that you did not get off your private jet in Boston and leave without telling anyone—including those overpaid thugs that we hired for your protection—where you were going.” Darryl’s voice was thin, angry. “You can tell me that you are currently on your way to Los Angeles, painting your toenails and scheduling an appointment with your personal shopper.”

  “I’m fine.” She bit her lips to keep from crying out. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “Anna, baby, I love you like a daughter, which is a good thing since your mother’s such a nasty piece of work. It’s not just my job to worry about you, it’s my privilege.” A sigh. “I’m popping antacids like candy corn. If I hadn’t been to rehab, twice, then this would be the moment where I jump from booze to the hard stuff.”

  He waited a beat, but Anna wasn’t laughing. Too many of her friendships had been ruined by drugs and alcohol.

  “Tell me where you are. Please. In case I need to know where to go to identify your body.”

  “I’m at Papa Billy’s.”

  Darryl sighed. “Baby doll, honey, I should have thought. Of course, you’d want to go to your grandfather’s. I’ll call the airport and take the next flight out to be with you. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Anna swallowed a scream. “I can do this by myself.”

  “You didn’t even take your luggage. You left your makeup bag on the plane. Hell, you left your makeup artist. She’s the one who called me. She’s worried sick.” He cleared his throat. “Annie, you know I think that you can shoot the freaking moon, but you’re not exactly a wash and wear kind of girl. Let me bring some help.”

  “No,” Anna repeated. “I don’t want help, Darryl. I don’t want the attention. No one knows I’m here, and that’s how I want to keep it.”

  “Right, because no one’s going to recognize you walking down the street.”

  “This is a small town, Darryl. Simple people. They’re not going to recognize me.”

  “No one’s that simple.”

  Nick and Adam were. She’d spent half the night with them, and they hadn’t said a word. “I’m fine, Darryl. I want to do this myself. I just want to clean out Papa Billy’s house and decide what to do with it.” She needed to make her own decision… for once.

  “Okay,” he sighed. “I won’t come out if you don’t want me, baby, but the first picture I see of you in the tabloids—wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt advertising some small town bar—I’m sending the entire team out. Do we have an understanding, young lady?”

  Suddenly she was fifteen years old again, telling him that she didn’t need a tutor, puking into toilets before every show. Anna squirmed uncomfortably, wishing that he couldn’t make her feel that way, knowing that she was lucky to have someone in her life who cared about her.

  Even if he did take seven percent off the top.

  “It’s a deal.” Anna let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding, grateful that Darryl was taking a step back for once.

  “Call me if you need me,” Darryl said. “Sweet dreams and chart toppers.”

  They were familiar words, spoken hundreds of times in thousands of late night conversations. Traveling on the road with her, Darryl had become the father she’d never known. He criticized her clothes, threatened her boyfriends, and turned out her lights, always taking the time to wish her ‘sweet dreams and chart toppers.’

  “Sweet dreams,” Anna returned before flicking the phone off.

  Was her room the first one on the right or the second? She walked down the hall, peering into dark bedrooms, trying to keep from sneezing. Her bedroom was the first door on the right. She stepped inside, closed the door, and turned on the light.

  Everything was exactly like she remembered it. Pink bedspread, stuffed animals piled on the floor, and the holly’s branches scraping across her window. Taking in a breath, she could smell roses, the cheap perfume she’d liked as a kid. There was an empty bottle of it on the bureau.

  She’d been wearing rose perfume the first time she’d kissed wild Nick Maddox.

  The boy next door.

  The man was tall, dark, handsome, and too good to be true. He didn’t know about pop music, he didn’t care about Hollywood politics. He cared about his kid and his work.

  A big fish in Mill City’s small pond.

  Working to make the world a more beautiful place. Planting trees. The world would be a better place with more men like him in it.

  The first few minutes they’d spent together, she’d been convinced that he knew who she was. She’d been sure that he knew about her platinum albums and VMA awards, but she’d been wrong. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been a dirty blonde with gapped teeth and a flat chest. There was no reason that he should have recognized her, unless he happened to read People Magazine.

  The thought that she could say whatever she wanted without having to worry about it being reported to the tabloids, the idea that she could be herself—plain Anna Howard—and not some media darling designed and built for the pleasure of her viewing public, was a heady experience.

  It still didn’t explain her reaction to him. She was a pop star. Pop stars didn’t turn red when they saw cute guys in novelty aprons. More than that, she’d been married to a three-time sexiest man of the year, she’d toured in Europe where sexy guys grew on trees, she turned hot backup dancers into pudding with a few well chosen remarks.

  This wasn’t some Cinderella story with the pretty girl falling for the first cute guy she met. This was real life, and in real life she needed a man like she needed a hole in the head.

  No matter how gorgeous that man might be.

  Underneath his apron, Nick was wearing a plain black t-shirt. Stretched across his muscular chest, there
was nothing plain about it. He had a genuine six-pack. What kind of man had a six-pack?

  Well, most of the men that she knew, but they were all worldwide sex symbols. The kind of men that women fantasized about. They weren’t ordinary men living in small towns trying to raise demons disguised as six-year-olds.

  Nick was something else. He was a real fantasy.

  Chapter Four

  Crinkle, crinkle, thud.

  Anna opened her eyes.

  Crinkle. Thud.

  If she were in a horror movie, then her grandfather’s ghost would be dancing to ‘Big, Bad Leroy Brown’ downstairs, but she wasn’t in a horror movie. She was in Mill City, spread eagle across the twin bed she’d slept in as a child with her comforter kicked onto the floor. There was no clock in the room but sitting upright she could see her phone glowing in the darkness.

  It was two in the morning. Most nights she didn’t even go to bed until past two in the morning. Add in the jet lag, and she’d be sick for a week if she didn’t get some more sleep.

  Bang.

  The noise was louder now. Closer.

  Putting a hand on her stomach, she swallowed, hard, forcing down the nausea that was threatening to envelope her. If she were in Los Angeles then she’d hit the intercom button next to her bed and summon her housekeeper for a bowl of ice cream and a report on the noise.

  Anywhere else, she could call one of the numerous handlers that traveled with her to take care of the problem.

  If she called Darryl now, he’d have someone knocking at the door in a matter of minutes. Of course, if she called Darryl then she’d be admitting she couldn’t take care of herself. She’d rather dance the two-step with her grandfather’s ghost.

  There was a soft rustle outside Anna’s door. Someone had to deal with it, and it looked like she was out of options.

  She reached down, grabbing the comforter and wrapping it around her shoulders. The thick blanket trailed down her back like a cape until it dragged across the floor. All she had to do was sneak across the room, open the door, and make sure that there wasn’t an ax murderer standing in the hallway.

  Easy.