Legend_A Rockstar Romance

by Ellie Danes

  I let my mother shut the door in my face and took my time turning around to face Main Street again. The light was on in Rick’s record shop. I had spent many of my mother’s evening classes hanging around the record shop with Ricky, years before he bought the place. He used to pretend to read comic books while I danced around, and he always let me play whatever I wanted.

  I took two steps and then stopped myself. I had sent poor Ricky enough mixed messages over the last few decades.

  Instead, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and headed down Main Street toward the fast food joint. I could buy a cheap coffee and sit in a booth for hours. And it was going to take hours to find a new job and chart a course back to my normal life.

  This time, I stopped in the middle of an intersection. Luckily, there wasn’t a single car on the street. I stood there and wondered what the difference was between destiny and self-sabotage:

  I couldn’t job search because I had left my phone at Morris Mansion.

  I dragged my feet but turned toward Storm’s home. The more I thought about accidentally running into him, the more determined my pace became. The chances of running into him in the enormous mansion were slim, but if I did, it would be the perfect opportunity. I had intruded on Storm’s playing and made a fool of myself over our tentative evening plans; now was my chance to show that I could be cool. I could handle casual flings.

  By the time I jogged up the palatial front steps, my cheeks were blazing red and I was out of breath. The idea of running into Storm made me cringe. He would think I was some desperate stalker, especially after he’d blown me off at the record shop.

  “Hey, Cora. Forgot your phone? It’s on the kitchen island.” Tyson’s voice rang out over the intercom as he buzzed the front door open remotely.

  “Thank you! Have a good night!” I called into the intercom.

  There was still a chance the quick exchange had not caught Storm’s attention. If he was in the mansion at all. I resolved to make it to the kitchen and back with nothing more than a quick wave at the security cam as I shut the front door behind me.

  “I really did forget my phone. A totally normal reason to be here this late,” I muttered under my breath as I fought the urge to jog down the long hallway to the kitchen.

  I made it to the end of the hallway and turned into the kitchen only to run smack into Storm’s chest. My cheek hit his hard pecs, and I bounced back, stunned.

  “Whoa, Cora?” Storm caught me with one arm.

  I stiffened. “Sorry. Just forgot my phone.”

  “Really? The date was that bad?” Storm asked.

  I shoved free of his supporting arm and stood back. “It wasn’t a date. Ricky’s an old friend.”

  “And he knows that?”

  I appreciated the sudden suspicion on behalf of his friend but then I swatted Storm’s arm. “Of course! What kind of a girl do you think I am?”

  “One who sneaks around the mansions of rock stars late at night?” Storm jokingly blocked any further blows from me.

  “Oh, so you’re a rock star now?” I asked.

  Storm moved his defensive hands to his heart. “Ouch. Though if I’m just a regular guy, how am I supposed to get you to spend the night?”

  I stuck out my hand in a stiff, formal greeting. “Hi, I’m Cora.”

  Storm smiled and slipped past my handshake to plant a lingering kiss on my lips. I swayed and found myself returning the kiss with such vigor I had forgotten to breathe. I was still clinging to Storm when he pulled back his insistent mouth and looked me deep in the eyes.

  “You aren’t seeing anyone else, are you?” Storm asked.

  “Not unless you count that guy I met at your party that first night. What was his name?” I teased.

  Storm kissed the smile from my lips. I had just come for my phone, but it was impossible to deny that I had found much, much more.

  I wanted to linger in bed with Cora, to wrap my arms around her soft curves and bury my face in the sweet scent of her hair, but when I woke up a wave of excitement pushed me out of bed. It felt like everything was starting that morning. All the things that had been weighing me down were now a round boulder at the top of a hill, and all I had to do was give it a push.

  I stretched and sat up, only hesitating when Cora sighed in her sleep. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful, so right in my bed.

  She’d even been in my dreams.

  I untangled my legs from the sheets and swung my feet to the floor, only pausing to piece together the vivid bits of my dreams. They had started out the colorful blur that I always associated with my childhood. My father’s international tours had made crowded memories out of the souks of Morocco, the bright fishing boats of East Africa, and the lacquered palaces of far Asia. Dreaming of childhood often made me feel lost, but this time it had been different.

  Cora’s laugh had rung out under the confusing halo of neon in Hong Kong. She’d danced on the steps of the opera house in Australia. She’d tucked a bright orange hibiscus flower in her hair on the black sand beaches of Hawaii.

  “Going somewhere?” Cora asked in a sleepy voice.

  It was easy to fall back into bed, my head close to her’s on the same pillow. I brushed back her unruly hair as she struggled to open her eyes.

  “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?” I asked her.

  “Somewhere there’s coffee,” she joked.

  “Nicaragua,” I said. “The coffee they grow there is amazing.”

  Cora rubbed her face and blinked. “Did I miss something?”

  I laughed and sat up again. “It’s been a few years since I traveled. How about you?”

  “Longer. I have a career. Had a career.” Cora sat up, looking rumpled and irresistible.

  “So, where would you go first if you could go anywhere in the world?” I asked her again.

  She sighed and gave me a patient look. “I won’t know until I have some coffee. Where would you go?”

  “Maybe Rome. And then we can spread out from there just like their empire did.” I bounced out of bed.

  “We?” Cora asked in a quiet voice.

  My phone buzzed before I could admit to her how tied up in my dreams and plans she was becoming. Then I bit my lip when I saw the message.

  Last night, when I had returned alone to the mansion, I had gone ahead and hired a moving team. Maybe that was why I felt everything was in motion. Maybe that was why I had woken up feeling so free and ready to start the new chapters of my life.

  “Tyson?” Cora asked, nodding toward my phone.

  I realized if I mentioned the movers that all the peace of our morning would be broken. Cora was still resisting the idea of me selling the mansion, and there was no way I could convince her to run away with me if she was fretting about what we were leaving behind.

  “Yeah,” I lied. “I gotta run downstairs and help him out with something.”

  Cora slipped out of bed and reached for her clothes. “I’ll get out of your way.”

  “No way.” I caught her around the waist and spun her close for a kiss. “After I deal with the stuff downstairs, I’m packing up a picnic breakfast. Meet me in the old greenhouse?”

  She smiled between kisses and tried to shrug noncommittally. “I walk that way back to town, so I suppose I could stop in for a bit.”

  My phone buzzed again; otherwise, I would have moved us back toward the bed. “I’ll get a big Thermos of coffee and some cinnamon rolls. Sound good?”

  Cora nodded. “Meet you there.”

  She turned toward my master bathroom, and I yanked on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. Tyson would be distracted by international calls as I had told him the night before to check on all my holdings. I had a small window to set the movers to work before either he or Cora could raise a fuss.

  The movers shuffled into the grand foyer and stood daunted while I shook their hands. “Don’t worry, I want it done fast but not all in one day. This morning, I’d like you to concentrate on crating
up the books in the library.”

  I led the movers down the hall as quickly as I could. I thought if I could just get them started, even if they only packed a few rooms, it would be enough to break the ties I could still feel holding me to the place.

  Then I’d be able to tell Cora and Tyson about the offer I’d accepted last night. Morris Mansion would be sold within the day.

  It was a miracle that Cora had not noticed the moving truck out front. She had gotten dressed and gone out the back door to enjoy the early morning sunlight in the garden. I watched her from the window as she made her way to the old greenhouse and again, I could see her moving through the foreign backgrounds of my dreams.

  Tyson’s door was still shut, and I could hear him yelling something in Mandarin that gave me hope he’d be busy for another hour or so. Just enough time to get everything started. Once the momentum of the move had started, I hoped it would free all of us.

  “Why do you look like you’re up to something?” Cora asked when I joined her in the old greenhouse.

  I poured coffee from the Thermos into mugs and handed her one. “I don’t know. I just feel inspired this morning.”

  “You certainly were inspired last night,” Cora said. She blushed a little despite her bold reminder.

  I sipped my coffee and grinned. “So, Rick thinks you might be my Muse? Maybe he’s right.”

  Cora returned my grin with a mischievous smile. “How about we test out his theory?”

  I moved closer and snaked an arm around her waist. “What’d you have in mind?”

  She twisted out of my embrace and reached behind the old rattan sofa. The old greenhouse was still full of junk, but I was surprised when she produced a beat-up guitar.

  “Rick also thinks this old greenhouse has great acoustics,” Cora said.

  I sipped my coffee and tuned the rickety old guitar while Cora wandered around the greenhouse. I knew she was imagining just where the stage set-up would go and the best place for rows of seating. My mind was still overseas, and I was determined to play something that would make her think of travel, too.

  “The best guitar player I ever heard was in a little cave in Spain,” I told her.

  Cora stopped, and her eyes widened as my fingers flew over the strings. The intricate plucking was far different from the blues chords she’d heard me play before, and she was fascinated.

  “You have real talent, Storm. Why are you denying it?” Cora asked.

  I concentrated on the old guitar as a song started to emerge. There was definitely something to Rick’s theory because I was inspired every time I played for Cora. I circled around to the beginning of the new song and played it again.

  Cora was just starting to hum along when one of the guitar strings broke and a loud, discordant twang filled the greenhouse.

  She jumped and sloshed her coffee. “Wow. That was amazing. If I run up to the house and grab you another guitar string, will you keep playing that, please?”

  I stopped her as she turned toward the door. “No, don’t go up there. I mean, I don’t need another guitar string. Do you know that some musicians just play on one string?”

  I started to slide my finger up and down one string, playing a whole scale, and Cora was almost back under my spell. Then a second moving truck rumbled up the back road and drove past the old greenhouse.

  Cora pointed to the box logo as it drove by. “Movers? There are movers packing up the mansion this morning?”

  “Why is that such a bad thing?” I put down the old guitar, the spell broken. “I know this place has history and meaning and blah, blah, blah, but aren’t you ready to get out of your hometown and see the world?”

  “What do you think you’re going to find out there?” Cora put down her coffee and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know you’ll still be Ian Morris’ son, Storm Morris the one-hit wonder, no matter where in the world you go.”

  I scowled. “That’d be better on the road. Here I’m just the reclusive loser who can’t get out from under his father’s shadow.”

  “That’s just because you don’t get out and play!” Cora stamped a foot. “Storm, you’re being ridiculous. Selling the mansion and moving away is not going to make your playing any better. Why can’t you just be yourself?”

  “I can’t be myself when I’m stuck in my father’s history,” I snapped.

  “You’re not stuck!” Cora yelled, and the old greenhouse reverberated. “What you just played on a beat-up old acoustic guitar was amazing, and worlds away from what your father played. You don’t have to go across the world to prove you’re different than him.”

  I ground my teeth. “People around here don’t see that.”

  “Because you don’t let them!” Cora brought the volume of her voice down, but she was still vehement. “Stop thinking that selling this place will make it any easier to be yourself. Trust me, getting away from home didn’t help me one bit.”

  “It’s already sold!”

  My words rang out and echoed instant regret. I had not wanted to tell her that way. The mansion meant something to her, something I couldn’t understand, and I had wanted to give her time before springing the sale on her.

  Cora’s mouth hung open in a wordless cry as she ran to the window and stared after the moving truck. Then she whirled around with tears in her eyes. “I’m not letting you do this. I’m stopping those movers!”

  I caught her hand and hung on tight. “Cora, please. Why can’t you see this as an opportunity?”

  “It’s your home, Storm. You’ll regret it when it’s gone,” Cora said.

  I pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “I won’t. I don’t think I’d ever look back if you came with me.”

  Cora held her breath, and I could feel her heart pounding against my chest. She buried her face in the collar of my shirt, and we stood wordlessly. I didn’t know if she’d heard my offer, and I struggled to find the right words to make her understand.

  “It’s not just a spontaneous thought, you know,” I told her. “The first moment I saw you at the party, all I could think about was whisking you away and having you all to myself.”

  “I won’t be the reason you leave Murtaugh.” Cora pushed away from me.

  I locked my arms around her and tried to make her see. “I felt stuck, Cora. Like the roots I had here were choking me. Until I met you.”

  She looked up with tears in her eyes. “You can’t blame me for your reckless thinking. I’m an accountant.”

  I laughed and kissed her. “You were an accountant. Don’t you want to be a world traveler next?”

  Cora glanced toward the mansion and the moving trucks. “It’s more complicated than that.”

  I shook my head. “No. No more hesitation. I don’t feel stuck anymore. It feels so good that I can’t lose any of this momentum. Will you come with me?”

  Cora slipped out of my arms and studied my face. “When?”

  My pulse surged again. “I sign the papers in two hours. Then I’ll pick you up.”

  “I said I would go,” I muttered to myself. The couple behind me hurriedly overtook me and rushed off down the sidewalk. “Yeah, I know, right? I must be crazy!”

  I laughed out loud at my own joke and crossed Main Street to my mother’s art gallery. As usual, there were a few pedestrians slowing down in front of her wide windows to gawk at her current class.

  “Fabric Dance,” I explained with a broad smile to the nearest gawker. “That’s where you dance around with pretty, floaty scarves.”

  Even though I was the one seriously considering leaving everything and running away with Storm Morris, my mother was still seen as the crazy one. There was comfort in that, and I suddenly found my eyes blurring. On the other side of the window, my mother leaped by trailing scarlet, emerald, and sapphire scarves.

  She waved, and I blinked. “I’m losing my mind,” I said out loud.

  Caroline’s class finished up, and I faced the now-empty window and saw myself. My hair w
as still the same wild mess it always was, but I still looked like a boring, straight-laced accountant. How could I even imagine leaving my life and running away with Storm?

  Then it struck, I wished I was more like my mother.

  The few ladies who had attended my mother’s class filtered out the door and didn’t notice me at all. They jostled by, breathless and laughing.

  “You should have joined us,” my mother called from inside. “See how light they feel?”

  I slumped in the door and leaned on the wall. “Don’t you ever worry you’ll just float away?”

  Caroline smiled and came over to hug me. “Just the idea feels better than being so afraid I chain myself down completely.”

  I shrugged off her familiar advice. “But what about me? What would you tell me to do?”

  My mother pulled me into her kitchen. “I would tell you to decide with your heart, not your head. I can already feel all your practicalities burying whatever idea you were thinking about outside.”

  “You saw that?” I asked. My mother struck most people as flighty, but I knew she had laser powers of observation.

  “I saw you were excited and happy and scared. And smiling,” Caroline said. “What happened?”

  I turned to make some tea and didn’t know what to say. “Want any help folding up those scarves from your class?”

  My mother rolled her eyes at my change of topic. While I made tea, she cleaned up the studio space and turned off the lights. When she came back, she was carrying a light folder that she shook out on the counter.

  “Payments from class?” I asked. The cash was scant.

  “But one was a returning student. I’ve still got some regulars,” my mother said.

  I forgot about the tea and leaned heavily on the counter. “What are you going to do?”

  Caroline waved a hand to shoo away my concern. “That’s not for you to worry about. You seem to have enough on your mind lately.”

  “I’m serious, Mother. What happens when you can’t pay the rent? Do you have a plan of where you’re going to go?” I asked.

  My mother was still for a moment, eyes on the short stack of cash. “Susie Q is always looking for a travel companion. There’s even a fancy resort she knows that might like my kind of classes.”