Voices Carry: A Rock and Roll Fantasy (The Rock And Roll Fantasy Collection)

by Diane Rinella

  The man who has heard my words like an angel hears prayers sits on the floor, right in the middle of a tablecloth, a bottle of wine, and paper plates with sandwiches. Despite where we are dining, he has bothered to wear pressed pants and a black, fitted shirt with silver studs on the collar and sleeves. The top buttons are open and connected by a silver chain. The polished combat boots sell it. Somehow he manages to look cutting edge, retro, hard core, and softhearted all at the same time. It slays me.

  Him doing all of this on such short notice makes my blood turn into one of those bubble lights my family puts on the Christmas tree. It also reminds me of what I first thought when I saw Brandon at the taxi stand: he looks sweet.

  How he stands with hesitation is endearing. After all we have talked about—music, movies, philosophy, and the crazy connection we share—I was afraid he would act as if entitled to own me. Instead, he is as unsure what to do next as I am. Thing is, given all we have said, along with how we have connected over the phone and on Skype, I just want to curl into his arms.

  We close the distance between us and simple hellos are exchanged. Our eyes go to the other’s arms—both of us not knowing what to do and smiling over how the next action is obvious. It’s not long until his warmth is against me, and I am overwhelmed by sizzling comfort that conveys my other half is searing back on. I don’t want to let go, and judging by the cling of the hug and the grip of his hand in my hair, neither does he.

  Energy slinks in, and my muscles feel freshly massaged—like after years of emotional loss I am getting my mojo back. The sensation is so overwhelming I become short on air, and my heart thanks God for helping me see who I am and what really matters.

  Emotion races to my eyes, and I grip him tighter. This is how it feels to be held by someone who wants to appreciate you for who you are, because he has seen into your soul. Now I know there is nothing to fear.

  Eventually we pull back as if accepting fate has brought us together and that is how we will stay. “Hungry?” he asks.

  “Starved.”

  We take seats on the tablecloth, and he blows my mind by handing me a sandwich with double peanut butter and seedless, raspberry jam. I remember talking about the type of peanut butter I love on a talk show once, but I’m pretty sure I never got specific about how I make my sandwiches. Did he just know?

  A bite puts me into bliss. Leaning back against the sofa, I kick off my shoes and let the stress of the day fall off. I’d go for a sip of wine, but that would require moving. I want to let my body melt into the floor.

  “Tough day?” Brandon asks. His slip of a smile not only tugs at my heart, it also brings back memories of a dream I had—a dream he has me believing was a memory from another life. Is he really the same man?

  My shoulders drop, and my head dips back as I groan. My eyes turn to him, and we both laugh. “Well, let’s see. The reason we ran so late is because the harness broke when they hoisted me up on a crane to fly me across the room.”

  Brandon’s eyes go wide. He’s so quick to try to swallow and ask if I am okay I am afraid he will choke. It’s sweet.

  “I’m fine. Fortunately, I was only two feet up when it happened. However, I did land flat on my face and get a nosebleed. Not only did I have to get checked out, we needed to get a new harness, file an accident report, and get an equipment inspection. Then I had to do a brief love scene with Evan. Despite how we play it to the press, he and I have things we are fonder of than each other, such as eating live spiders. When I dropped my towel we discovered that the body makeup artist hadn’t properly covered the huge birthmark I have on my ribs for the lighting we were using. There it was, popping out at everyone and saying, ‘Hello, sailor!’ Worse, Evan thought it would be cute to bust out with, ‘Hey, Katherine, have you been eating chocolate?’ So not amusing!”

  Brandon chuckles and hands me a glass of wine. “You have more than earned this. Are you sure you are okay?”

  I darn near choke on my sip. Did I really tell him about my birthmark? Nobody knows about it except for the few guys I have been with. I even kept it under wraps from them for as long as I could. “Yeah, I’m fine. My ego is more vandalized than anything else.” At least I think I am fine. I am getting a bit of a headache. Must be the stress of the day. Lord knows there has been plenty.

  “Evan should have shown you some respect. Not only do you have feelings, he is a co-worker, which is a type of partner. Every partner needs the other to succeed.”

  Brandon takes a bite of his sandwich and leans back against the sofa, totally oblivious to the power of what he said. Communication and support such as this are gold.

  Pain zips its way across my head. Why is he being so casual? Doesn’t he care I am hurting?

  Whoa! Where did that PMS-like flash of unreasonableness come from? I also have not said a word about this ache attacking the right side of my brain. I try to massage it away.

  “You okay?” Brandon asks. True concern blankets his face. His caress of my temple feels electric, and I want to melt under it. This is exactly the type of response I’ve always wanted from a man. “Did you land on this side of your face? Maybe we should get you to a doctor.”

  “No, I landed on my left, and it wasn’t very hard.”

  “Still.” Brandon starts to stand. “Let’s err on the side of caution. Don’t they keep doctors on call here?”

  I grab his arm and nudge him back down. “I’m fine. Not having eaten recently is the bigger deal.”

  His eyes look firmly into mine. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind taking you to the hospital.”

  God, those gorgeous eyes remind me of autumn leaves. His lashes alone could make him a star. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  This moment is perfect. Not only is Brandon genuinely concerned, he’s done all he could to make this night special. I’m glad we couldn’t go out.

  We spend nearly every moment of his whirlwind visit chatting, sharing, and dreaming. When we arrive at the airport for his return flight the pull of whatever it is we share keeps me tucked in his arms, clinging and praying time magically stops so we can stay this way.

  I’ve spent hours fighting the urge to rush into something that promises to be the lead-in to a lifetime of happiness. While our relationship already seems quick by man’s standards, our souls scream that a few hours of hugs and simple kisses that have put my head in a tailspin were too reserved. He raises my chin, and the kiss we share sends my mind soaring in a myriad of directions—praying for a future, knowing there has been a past, and embracing the present.

  As Brandon walks away, I ask myself why I am not tossing everything and running off with him. Is it because I’m under contract with my job? Because I just got out of another relationship? Because the press would criticize it? It’s all of those ridiculous things that don’t matter, and none of them reflect my free spirit. All I know is when I see him again, I won’t hesitate to let us be whatever we want to be.

  I turn to catch another glimpse of the woman I have shared hours of bliss with, and she blows me a kiss. Her eyes seem to reflect what my heart feels—we spend our lives chasing rainbows, yet when we find the pot of gold we stop to climb trees.

  Why should we hesitate jumping in? This is our chance to go back and get what people want most. Katherine and I have been granted a magical chance to turn back the clock and right everything. All we need to do is not ignore this opportunity the universe has blessed us with.

  I enter the airport, because as much as I want to return to her, a small part of me is running away. We’ve talked about so much, yet we have managed to avoid something important. Can I continue to be open with her about everything, yet conceal the fact the Saleena and Johnny died because of me?

  Punk Rock Girl

  My fingers wildly tap on my legs, mirroring a familiar guitar lick. The chorus breaks in, and I sing along. This is it. This is the song that has been stuck in my head. There is no possible way I have heard it before, yet I know it like the back of my hand.

&nb
sp; The song ends, and the recording engineer asks Saleena for another take. The voice that agrees sounds like a chipmunk yet sings like a bulldozer. Could that actually be me? How else would I know this song?

  The posters lining Brandon’s room make me feel a part of me has come home from battle. The whole concept of once being part of an underground music movement seems so odd compared to the life I have now, yet when I dig deep into who I am, it all makes sense. I got into acting because I wanted to be a rock star. I couldn’t sing, so I jumped on another bandwagon to stardom.

  Brandon thinks this was recorded around nineteen seventy-eight. That was right when the San Francisco punk scene was beginning to boom. He sees it as making Saleena a Bay Area punk pioneer. However, my gut tells me she saw punk as the right bandwagon to jump on. The more I learn about her, the more I see how we are partners in reaching for fame. It would be a lot harder to convince me we are different people than it is we are the same person.

  My attention comes off of the room and onto the man rewinding the tape. How much I have missed Brandon over the past week is ridiculous considering how little I know him. I nudge him to lean back against the bed so I can tuck my head into his shoulder. I am at peace with this man; far unlike I ever was with Jason. And through our phone conversations and Skype sessions, Brandon already knows everything—that is, except for my darkest secret. So much has come to the surface you’d think sharing it would be easy, yet I continue to cower from it.

  I pick up the box the tape came in and chuckle at the name, Negative Fate. How wrong was it that Saleena died right when fame was in reach?

  Fame—it is hell to get, and it can slip away in a heartbeat. I’ve lost so much along the way …

  “I’m trying to hunt the other girls down,” Brandon says, “but since one went by a stage name and the other got married, I keep hitting road blocks. Julie’s sister responded in a forum the other day about a poster someone found for a show at Mubuhay Gardens when the band opened for The Dead Kennedys, so I sent her a bunch of questions. Hopefully, she will respond. There are a lot of blanks I need to fill in.” Brandon’s voice trails off, and I notice he looks a little ill. My heart droops for him. He told me Saleena and her boyfriend died in an accident, similar to his ex-fiancée.

  Brandon closes his eyes as if he is watching an image build, and then rattles his head to shake it away. Through Jason, I have already seen how hard it can be to face each day when you have lost someone you love.

  My jaw tightens. Sudden pain shoots through the right side of my head and across my brow, bringing me to scrunch it as if the action will press out whatever is trying to bore its way inside. It doesn’t bring relief, nor does it silence whatever is screaming Brandon is lying about something.

  My irrational feelings must be caused by transferring how upset I am at Jason for his deceit. Jason’s lack of a spine kept him from being honest, so why do I suddenly feel anger toward Brandon? Brandon has never been anything short of a gentleman, and he doesn’t need to know Jason still pisses me off. I keep my head dipped into his chest until the bulk of the pain passes.

  When I do look up, I find a smile on Brandon’s face so warm and bursting with the love of life I can’t help but share it. “Hey, the weather is perfect,” he says. “You up for a walk on the beach?”

  I look to the window and chuckle at the grey sky. “It’s totally overcast. It’ll be freezing.”

  His gaze drops, and I can swear he is blushing. “That’s kind of the point.” He peers up and gives me the most adorable, puppy dog look. “Someone will need to keep you warm.” His thumb caresses my cheek, and it is as if I have awoken from a dream. My soaring spirit sends my headache running for its life. “Thing is, as much as I would love to show you the beauty of Paris and the glories of Rome, I’m broke. At least here I can show you the beauty God gave the ocean while I stare at the beauty He gave you. I can’t think of a sight more incredible to behold.”

  He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  State Of Emergency

  Even though I am in my second home, Katherine’s smile is all that has my attention. A smile crosses my face simply because she loves me.

  She looks so sweet while wandering among the rows, flipping through bin after bin in search of treasures. However, this woman who spent her former life longing to be a rock star also looks like a fawn staring down a set of headlights.

  I step up from behind and slip my arms around her waist, nuzzling my chin into her shoulder, and feeling I am the most fortunate person in the world because she lets me. The nuzzle is returned with the added bonus of a giggle.

  A giggle! My girl giggles! Damn, that’s cute.

  “Looking for anything special?” I ask.

  “You know, back when I had the time to buy records, I didn’t have the money. Now that I have the money, I never have the time. After lunch, I’m coming back and loading up. This place is insane.”

  I peek at the bin to see what she is perusing—The Germs. Cool. She stops and taps on a copy of Germicide. “I need to make sure I grab this later.”

  I nod in hearty approval of her taste. “Give it here. Shane will stash it until you are ready.”

  “Thanks.” I get a kiss on the cheek before she spins around and takes in the vastness of the store again. With a bite to her nail, she ponders her next move before checking out Black Flag and then moving on to The Slits. There it is. The same gleam in her eyes that I saw in Saleena. Katherine may think she is only driven by fame, but there is so much more. She and Saleena didn’t jump on bandwagons; they knew what they wanted. “Hmm,” I muse. “All killer punk bands either composed of, or who at some point had, female members.”

  Her fingers halt mid-flip. What I pointed out seems to be messing with her mind. “How have I missed that I am a fan of Saleena’s contemporaries? Weird.”

  “Not weird at all. She’s not only a part of you; she is you. Just because that career wasn’t in this life doesn’t mean you didn’t have it or it wasn’t valued. Passions get ingrained, kind of like a disease some of us can’t shake.”

  Her face contorts in question as my words seem to seep into her. I’ve hit on something. She shakes it off with a laugh. “So, you are saying your music obsession means you are sick?”

  “Fatally.”

  She smiles at my truthful, deadpan delivery, and my heart soars. All along I have thought I only want to give to her and get nothing in return, but the flight of my heart proves I want her to give me the gift of her smile, time and again.

  The shop bell rings. Low and behold it’s the skater kid with the pants that will someday cost him his life. “This may get interesting. Shane played savior the other day. This kid is either coming back to church for another dose or will test Shane’s patience in an epic display of comedy.”

  “Shane? That seemingly mild-mannered nerd? I’ve only been here ten minutes, but I have seen enough to know a bomb may not get his eyes off of that ancient issue of ‘Teen Magazine. How can he get riled? And why is he so into Pat Boone?”

  God, seriously? That is what has his attention so locked? You’d think he would at least be reading about Gene Vincent or Dion. I so don’t get my friends. “Trust me; Shane can get riled. When he does, he reminds me of a Muppet on PCP. He got into it with this kid over if Green Day is punk or not.”

  “Green Day? Like, Billy Joe Green Day? Rock and Roll Hall Of Run By Clueless People Who Should Know Better Green Day?” She scoffs. “So not punk, but they sure own a couple of pretty killer restaurants.”

  Ah! Music to my ears! I kiss her forehead in an overt display of admiration. “Thank God for you.”

  “Hey,” the kid says to Shane.

  “Hey,” Shane returns. Of course his eyes stay on the article.

  “So um …”

  Shane sets down the magazine and waits while the kid searches for words. Finally, he gives him a break by asking, “Did you find something you liked?”

  The kid snickers. “Yeah, a lot of stuff. I was
reading about those MC5 guys, and the article not only talked about The Kinks, it said something about Iggy Pop being in a band called The Stooges. Got any?”

  Yes! He found it! This kid found his passion!

  My fists fly up in a double pump. It’s all I can do to keep from yelling score at the top of my lungs. The news makes me so damn happy I start dancing to the tune of “We Are The Champions” as it plays in my head. Shane did it! I want a chance to play savior too.

  I grab a copy of The Stooges and race over. “Here, this one is on me. Hold on!” I toss in a copy of Stiff Little Fingers’ Inflammable Material. “This is the punk band Green Day sounds like! They were one of their biggest influencers.”

  “Sweet. Thanks, man! I owe you guys.” The kid takes off, jumps on his skateboard, and whizzes down the street.

  “Yes, someone gets it! An entire generation may now be saved.”

  “Probably not,” Shane says with a grumble. “At least we turned one. That makes me a tiny bit less likely to pull out that No Posers Allowed sign I always threaten to put up.”

  “Our conversion rate is far too slow. Think there is a way we can create some sort of mill to churn ‘em out faster?”

  Shane actually looks up to answer. “You mean like a school? I kind of dig it.”

  Katherine’s laugh-laced voice travels across the room. “Oh. My. Gawd! Where is Jack Black?”

  We look at her, blankly, until Shane chimes in, “Probably running around in his underwear while half-baked.”

  I can’t tell if Katherine is on the verge of laughter or of strangling us. “You guys have seen High Fidelity, right?”

  Shockingly, Shane sets down the magazine to take a good look at the person who can’t process the obvious. He then makes a sweeping motion at the room and baulks at her. I add the words that match his visual. “Um, yeah. We kind of live it.”