The Pop Star Next Door

by Aleah Barley

The click of canine claws on newly refinished wood. Anna wasn’t the only one who was missing. Every other time he’d knocked on the door Leroy had gone wild, barking, no matter how many other men were already in the house. The dog wasn’t there either.

  Maybe Anna had just taken the dog for a walk.

  Maybe—

  “She’s gone.” A helpful hint from old Mrs. O’Reilly from across the street. The loudmouth. The gossip. The biggest busy body in six blocks.

  Nick turned eagerly in her direction. Hoping for some kind of hint. “You must be wrong.” His tongue darted out, licking dry lips. His chest felt tight. His eyes were fogging up. Gone? What did she mean? She couldn’t mean gone. “We were supposed to meet here.”

  “I don’t know about ‘supposed to.’” Mrs. O’Reilly spoke around a long cigarette, her blood red lipstick staining the pale paper wrapper. One hand rested comfortably on the cane that she’d been using to scare little boys away from her yard ever since Nick was still running barefoot through the neighborhood. Stealing blueberries from her carefully tended patch.

  “She blew through here an hour ago.” The old lady couldn’t quite hide her gleeful laugh. All that joy over Nick’s pain. She couldn’t possibly mean gone. “Grabbed a bag and that horrible dog. Took off in a big black car.”

  “When’s she going to be back?” Adam demanded. The first grader’s voice was high and thin, his hands firmly planted on his hips.

  “That girl?” A hacking cough, the result of a six pack a day smoking habit. “Who knows? I’ll probably be dead and buried before that happens.”

  That was a lie. Every kid in town knew Mrs. O’Reilly was a cyborg. A machine powered by pure meanness. She’d never die.

  “It’s my fault.” Adam was crying. Tears falling like raindrops. “I made her leave. I fell out of the tree.”

  “You didn’t make her do anything.” Nick felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Worse. He felt like he’d been shot in the heart. His hands shook. His head pounded. He felt like screaming. Mrs. O’Reilly had to be wrong. There was no way that Anna could be gone.

  “You don’t understand.” Adam hurled himself against his father’s knees. Hard enough to make him stumble backward. Neither of them minded when the ice cream hit the floor. “She was so upset. So scared. She worries about me—not like you. She really worries.”

  Fear, Nick forced air into his lungs, struggling to think. Fear and worry. She’d been afraid the last time that she’d babysat Adam. Worried that she’d done something wrong, that she’d hurt him somehow.

  He never should have tried leaving Adam with her again so soon, but everything had been going so well. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that there could be a problem. He hadn’t considered the consequences of his actions.

  He should never have let her leave the hospital by herself.

  And she shouldn’t have left town.

  Reaching out, Nick placed a hand on his son’s head, running his fingers through tousled blonde hair. The action was warm, familiar, and reassuring. It was something that he’d done a thousand times, something that he would do a million more.

  Adam flinched away.

  “Anna’s gone,” Nick forced the words out of his mouth. The world that had been so bright a moment earlier was turning gray before his eyes. Everything that had been so warm. For one brief shining moment, he’d thought that they’d be happy together. He’d been wrong. Now, he needed to concentrate on the most important thing in his life. His son. “She’s gone on a little trip.”

  It had more than two weeks since Anna’s return to Mill City. Two weeks. A blink of the eye in the total scheme of things. Longer than he’d been with Adam’s mother before she’d conceived, but not by much.

  Who would have thought that he could fall in love in two weeks?

  Who would have thought that Nick Maddox—Mill City’s original bad boy—could fall in love at all?

  But, it had to be love. That was the only explanation for the way he was feeling, like a vise was tightening around his middle and his head would split open at any minute. His heart was breaking.

  “She probably just went home,” Nick said. “Los Angeles.” The words were hollow, empty. They didn’t stop Adam’s tears or the pain welling up in his heart. “We always knew she was going back to Los Angeles. That’s where she belongs.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “This dog’s a dud.” Darryl poked tentatively at Leroy with the toe of his shoe. “Defective. It never does anything. Just sits there.”

  “Uh huh.” Laying out on a lounge chair beside her pool, Anna adjusted her bikini top. The key to relaxing in the sun was to make sure she got just enough sun for a healthy glow without looking like an after school special: skin cancer edition. Like Nick,—but she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Nick. She closed her eyes. “He’s just tired.”

  “That your problem too, baby doll? Because whatever he’s got I think it’s catching.” Darryl meandered slowly over to stand beside her chair. “Your housekeeper says you haven’t been doing much these days, she’s worried about you.”

  “I’ve been doing plenty.”

  “Plenty of what? You’ve canceled your appointments with your personal trainer. Your hairdresser hasn’t been by since you got back, and Maria says you’ve cut your fingernails short. She’s afraid that it’s a sign of emotional decline.”

  That sounded like Maria. “There are more important things in life than fingernails.”

  “You tell her that.” A short laugh. “You might want to do it over the phone. She’s got a temper.”

  “Uh huh.” That was one of the things that Anna liked about her makeup artist. No one pushed Maria around. If she wanted to take a couple of days off then no one even noticed. They certainly didn’t send her agent to harass her—

  “Is that why you’re here?” Her eyes cracked open, just far enough to take in the view. The city spread out panoramically in front of her, the image blocked on one side by her agent’s towering form.

  Darryl was overdressed, as usual. The man never left the house without a three piece suit. Today’s was pretty flashy. Blue pinstriped linen with a white button down shirt underneath. No tie. Darryl always wore a waistcoat. He never wore a tie. He said that ties in California were pretentious.

  “Not entirely.” He shrugged. “We also need to finalize the set list for the charity concert.”

  ‘Not entirely.’ Her shoulders tensed. “Hank and Maria tattled on me—”

  “They didn’t tattle on you. They’re worried about you.”

  Worry, they didn’t know what worry was. A couple of days alone—without people catering to her every need—and everyone thought she’d gone off the deep end. Anna bit her lip to keep from screaming. When she’d come back from Mill City, she’d thought that things would be different. She was different. Surely everyone could see that.

  Nothing had changed. It was all exactly the same as when she’d left. Calm, controlled and boring. She’d offered to go to the grocery store the other day and almost given her housekeeper a heart attack. Picking out her own clothes was an act of defiance. She felt smothered, but at the same time, she knew that every harsh word and rebuke hurt someone that she cared about. Hank. Maria. They weren’t just employees, they were her friends.

  Darryl was her family. The only one she had.

  Anna bit her lip to keep from sobbing. “I’m fine. No one needs to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Okay, baby girl—”

  “No, Darryl.” Anna forced herself upright into a sitting position. Her hands balled into fists. Darryl needed to listen. He needed to hear what she had to say. “Not ‘okay, baby girl.’ I am a grown woman. I can take care of myself. I can pick out my own clothes and cut my own nails. I can go to the grocery store myself—”

  “What if someone sees you?”

  “So, they see me! People saw me all over the place in Mill City. No one took my picture. No one cared.”

  �
��This isn’t Mill City.”

  “You’re right.” It was a beautiful day in Los Angeles. But it was always a beautiful day. Sun shining, parrots squawking, wind rustling through palm fronds. Paradise. And all she could think about was the flower bed in front of Papa Billy’s house. All those lilies fighting the weeds for sunlight. Who would take care of them if she were stuck in Los Angeles? Who would dance barefoot on the lawn and share decorating tips with Jemmie?

  It didn’t matter. She took a deep breath. She couldn’t go back to Mill City. Not after what had happened with Adam. The most that she could hope for was to fix her life in Los Angeles, starting right this minute. “I’m twenty-five years old, Darryl. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not your ‘baby girl.’”

  “Oh, honey.” He nudged her to one side with his knee. Sitting down next to her on the long lounge chair. “Honey—Anna.” Her name, an oddity in his familiar raspy voice. Callused fingers pushed her blonde locks back behind one ear. Staring down at her, his eyes were full of love and admiration. “You’re the daughter of my heart. I know you’re a capable young lady—a capable woman—but that doesn’t change the facts. You’ll always be my baby girl.” Strong arms enveloped her in a comforting hug that was too hot in the southern California sun but somehow just right. “What’s this all about?” Darryl asked, patting her back. “Is this about that boy in Mill City? Nick?”

  “Nick,” Anna corrected him without thinking. “Nick and—” A little boy with shining eyes. “Nick and Adam.”

  “This Nick guy take advantage of you? I’ll make sure he—”

  “I love him, Darryl. I just can’t be with him.” There was a long pause. “I just—I just need things to change.”

  “Alright, bab—Anna. Alright, Anna. Just tell me what you want to change.”

  A deep breath, pulling air down into her lungs, forcing her tears away. After all this time—all her effort—she finally had Darryl’s full and undivided attention. ‘What do you want?’ She could almost hear Nick asking her, that crooked grin on his face. The world was her oyster. She wasn’t going to be living on the sidelines anymore. “The set list for the charity concert. I don’t want to play the same old thing. I’ve been working on some new songs, a different sound. That’s what I want to play.”

  “Are you sure about this, Anna? We don’t have time to test out new material. Your fans are used to your old sound. A new sound could alienate them. It could end your career.”

  There it was. All her fears laid out in Darryl’s familiar voice. She’d been listening to his career advice since she was fourteen years old. Still not quite sure what was going on.

  “I’m sure.” She swallowed, hard. Pulling away from Darryl, she looked her agent straight in the eyes. “I want to do this. And, if it ends my career then so be it. We’ve had a good run.”

  “We’ve had a great run, and it’s not over yet.” Darryl reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. “You’d better go get changed. I’ll call the band. If you’re going to put this together in just a couple of days, it’s going to be hard work.”

  “I’m not afraid of a little hard work.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Twenty-five minutes. That was how long it had taken Nick to know that he couldn’t just let Anna go. Vanishing off into the sunset without a word. Twenty-five minutes before he’d started calling around. First Jemmie then Myrna down at the diner, trying to figure out if anyone knew where Anna had gone. He must have dialed every car company in Boston. Every airline. But none of them knew what had happened to Anna. Or they just weren’t telling him.

  It had taken another four days for Nick to pack up his son, put his business on hold, and fly across the country to Los Angeles. Maybe a little more or less than four days if he considered the time change, but that would require higher math.

  Not something he could easily accomplish after four days with no sleep. Four days. That was how long it had been since he’d last seen Anna. Since he’d last run his fingers across her smooth, silky skin. Since he’d tasted her. Held her. Made her shudder hungrily in his arms. It felt like longer. It felt like an eternity.

  In the four days since Anna had left for Los Angeles, Nick had learned a lot of things. He’d learned that there were twelve women named ‘Anna Howard’ in the greater Los Angeles phone book and two women named ‘Anna Montera. None of them were his Anna.

  He’d learned that record executives weren’t eager to give out the addresses of their famous artists.

  He’d almost given up hope when Jemmie had sent him the information on the concert… an online advertisement with flashing text and blaring music.

  ‘One Night Only. Live at the Hollywood Bowl. Your Favorite Actors and Musicians Gather to Support Charity.’ And then, at the end of a long list of names the big news in capital letters: “WITH SPECIAL GUEST STAR ANNA MONTERA.’

  The woman that he loved more than he’d thought possible up on stage for everyone to see.

  The face in the advertisement was almost unrecognizable. Beautiful, in an inhuman way. Like the Anna Howard he knew—the lusty woman who he’d tumbled into bed—was gone, replaced by some plastic Hollywood creation. Slathered in makeup. Sewn into a too-tight spandex confection that threatened to reveal her long legs and mouthwatering curves to the world.

  The dress probably cost more than he made in a year, but if that was the sort of thing that Anna liked then he’d save up. He’d do anything if it just meant that she looked at him again, giggled—the laughter reaching her eyes—and kissed him softly on the lips. Anything else, well—

  Just thinking about everything else that she could do to him had his breath coming faster and his knees buckling.

  If that was the sort of clothing, Anna liked then she wasn’t the woman that he’d thought. Smart, funny, vivacious and real.

  Nick shook his head. The image on the poster didn’t change who Anna was, he told himself, squaring his shoulders and walking up to the Hollywood Bowl’s elegantly appointed ticket booth. “Two tickets.”

  “Reservation number?” A young woman dressed in a tidy black and white uniform that didn’t quite manage to hide the tattoos on her neck.

  “I don’t have a reservation.” Digging into his back pocket, his fingers connected with a small velvet box. The engagement ring he’d had his mother ship overnight from Florida. The ring had belonged to his grandmother. He was keeping his wallet in his front pocket for the trip. “I’d like to buy two tickets.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Her childish laughter—sudden and high pitched—grated on his nerves.

  Nick bit his lip, drawing in a deep breath. His hand dropped to wrap around Adam’s wrist. Earlier that afternoon they’d driven their rental car all over the strange city, scrambling to get ready in time for the concert. He’d even managed to talk Adam into a haircut by promising that Anna would see it later. Anna would love it.

  Nick couldn’t fail now.

  “You are here to sell tickets?”

  A sniff. “Listen up, Huck Finn. I don’t sell tickets. Read the signs. This is will-call. My job is to distribute tickets to people who already bought them. People with reservation numbers. This show is sold out.”

  Sold out, Nick’s jaw dropped. He might not know much about Los Angeles, but he’d been to concerts in Boston before. Big amphitheaters, half the size of the Hollywood Bowl, with only the first dozen rows of seats filled up.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I know.” A nod of agreement. “Who knew there was such a market for pure consumerism?”

  “Would it change things any if I were a friend of one of the singers—Anna How—Anna Montera?”

  “It would change jack diddly if you were best amigos with good God almighty. Sold out is sold out. This place has seventeen thousand three hundred and seventy-six seats. Besides,” A small laugh. “The guys who say they’re friends of the artists are the ones you have to worry about.”

  When she licked her lips, a small silver stud flic
kered on her tongue. “Tell the truth, you’re really some kind of secret squirrel. The second ticket is for your imaginary friend.”

  “The second ticket is for me,” Adam piped up from where he was clutching Nick’s hand.

  The ticket—will-call—girl leaned forward across her counter curiously. “What are you supposed to be? Some kind of midget?”

  “I’m six,” Adam said. “I want to see Anna.”

  “Sorry, kid. I can’t let you in.” The girl glanced up at Nick. “You don’t want to take him in there anyway. The place is a madhouse.”

  “I’ll scream,” Adam said with the air of confidence that came from issuing a threat that he knew had worked in the past. In the bookstore. In the diner. At the dentist.

  The will-call girl grinned, “I’ll call security.”

  Adam shifted nervously, leaning more of his weight against his father. “I’ll cry. A lot.”

  “Listen, little dude. You can scream and cry all you want. You can even try to bribe me: I’m partial to ruby earrings, but I’ll take anything that comes in a little blue box. Nothing is going to work.” Her words had the same weight and finality as a judge issuing a death sentence. “I can’t let you in.”

  “Damn it!” Nick didn’t mind being talked down to, treated like some kind of country boy who’d never spent more than two minutes in the big city. He knew it wasn’t true. That didn’t mean he was going to let anyone talk down to his son.

  Ripping free of Adam’s grip, he slammed his hands down on the ticket counter. “I don’t even care about this show. I’m just here to see my girlfriend—”

  His mistake was obvious, the moment after he’d made it. Before the will call girl had been treating him with a certain amount of good humor. Now her face contorted in fear and something else… disgust.

  She thought that he really was some kind of secret squirrel, stalking Anna for his own amusement. After all, what would someone like the great Anna Howard ever be doing with a man who didn’t think to order concert tickets ahead of time?