by Melanie Dawn
If it weren’t for him and his damned celebrity gossip website, I wouldn’t have to be explaining myself right now.
A few days ago, this dude with a microphone and camera started asking me if it was true that I was dating my former juvenile detention counselor.
I tried my best to ignore him. I kept walking. I didn’t respond. But, the minute he referred to us as engaging in an ‘inappropriate relationship,’ I fucking lost it.
I grabbed the camera and slammed it to ground, shattering it to pieces. “What’d you just say, cocksucker?” I seethed. “Say it again.”
The zit-faced jackass glared at me with his beady little eyes over his wire-rimmed glasses. “Are you threatening me? Because if you are, my lawyers will be all over that?”
“Oh, no. It’s not a threat,” I growled, glaring at him with my finger pointed in his face. “It’s a fucking promise. In case you didn’t notice, asshole, I’m over the age of thirty, as is she. If you dare to use the word ‘inappropriate’ in your vocabulary again to try to explain our relationship, you’ll be choking on your own nuts. Capisce?”
Wide-eyed, the guy stared at me. He knew I meant business. Glancing at the camera on the ground, he stammered, “You’re, uhh… you’re gonna hafta pay for that.”
I chuckled at the broken pieces. “Chump change,” I huffed, stalking off in the other direction. Calling over my shoulder, I patronized him even further, “Have your guys call my guys.”
I normally didn’t throw my fame and fortune in people’s faces like that, but damn, that guy pissed me off.
Paige’s voice shrilled through the phone. “Wait. So, you’re telling me he was one of your seventeen year old clients?” She had promised to call me the day after our girl’s night out to get the scoop on Chris, but unfortunately her crazy life with a doctor husband, preteen diva, kindergarten princess, and toddler tornado twin boys had zapped all of her free time. She didn’t remember to call until the tabloids had already plastered the news.
“He’s thirty-two now,” I said defensively. “What difference does it make how old he was when I met him?”
She sounded concerned. “He was a kid, Salem. You were his counselor. Something about it just doesn’t sound right.”
“We are adults, Paige,” I threw back at her, trying not to take her opinion personally. “We haven’t been counselor-client for almost fifteen years. I just don’t get why people are freaking out over this.” I paced the floor, staring at the newsfeed on my computer screen. Posts and articles about me, Chris, and my relationship with him flooded the internet. Somehow they’d even managed to find pictures of him as a teen. Those photos juxtaposed with recent pictures of myself. No wonder people were so up in arms about it.
“Paige, you saw him. He’s not a child. Hell, he was almost eighteen when I met him. There was absolutely nothing inappropriate between us back then.” I felt my face getting hot. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I have to defend myself to my best friend!”
Curiously, like a glutton for punishment, I turned on the TV. I watched the local news do a mighty fine job of tarnishing my good name, making me sound like I was some kind of sick pervert. In boring little towns like we lived in, they took minor stories and ran with them. I’d seen more than one name flushed down the tubes over something blown way out of proportion. Angrily, I slammed the remote on the coffee table.
Paige spoke softly, trying another tactic. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to defend yourself. You’re right. You are both adults here. The media has just played this story up so much that it’s hard not to get sucked in. Don’t be mad. I’m sorry.”
The media was just trying to make me out to the bad guy. Oh god, what if the pregnancy care center gets wind of this? A sob escaped my throat before I could reel it back in. “I’m not mad. I’m just frustrated. This isn’t fair. I’m not who they say I am.”
“Don’t worry about them. Just keep being you. This will all blow over soon.”
Right. I continued to pace the living room, pressing a shaky hand to my forehead. “And in the meantime, they’re making me out to be some sick, child molester.”
Paige sighed. “Everyone who knows you, knows better.”
I stared at the black screen of my television, imagining the awful things being said about me to the thousands of gullible people out there who were eating all this crap up. Hating me or loving me. Or maybe even jealous of me. I despised it. All of it. I didn’t want to be in the spotlight. Ever. Would things with Chris ever be normal? Suddenly, I remembered the night he came to my house and told me how normal I looked. I was beginning to understand his need for normalcy.
“I guess,” I huffed, exasperated.
“Coffee date later?” Paige asked, hopeful.
“Sure,” I responded, less than enthusiastic.
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Later.” Before I had a chance to hang up, someone was pounding on my front door. I quickly clicked “End” and rushed to the door.
“Open up, Salem!” Graham’s voice was harsh through the solid, wooden door.
I reached out, turning the knob. I regretted it the moment I did it. As soon as I cracked the door open, Graham pushed past me, raking his hand through his hair. Whirling around in the foyer, he growled, “You slept with a teenager? One of the kids from Fairbanks? Are you fucking kidding me?” He grimaced, taking heaving breaths.
I held my hands out, waving my open palms in the air, “Whoa. Slow down. First of all, no, I never slept with any teenager from Fairbanks.” Even after all he put me through I thought the man I’d been married to for almost thirteen years would know me better than that.
He pointed an accusatory finger at the television. “Well, that’s not what’s circulating all around town and all over the news.” Graham looked livid. I couldn’t care less. He’d put me through enough. This wasn’t about him anymore. “You had an affair, Salem… with one of your clients. I’d say that pretty much makes it my business.”
Was he really trying to pull the infidelity card on me?
I narrowed my eyes and pressed my fists to my hips. “Believe what you want, Graham, but in case you’re forgetting, you’re the one who cheated on me. And besides, what business is this of yours?”
Ignoring me, Graham looked at me with disgust and asked accusingly, “How long have you been seeing him?”
I shook my head, biting back a scream. “Again, none of your business.”
Graham threw his hand toward Alexis’s bedroom. “We have a child together, Salem. I have a right to know.”
I took three breaths, waiting until I was somewhat calm and could answer him. Then I took a step toward him so he’d know I was serious. I never really stood up for myself when we were married. It was my turn now. I was taking care of me, and I sure as hell wasn’t letting him stomp all over me now, or ever. “If you want to discuss our child, then please, feel free. Otherwise, get the hell out of my house.”
Graham stood, unmoving. “I’m not leaving without Alexis,” he demanded.
Staring at him, my mouth fell open. How dare he try to put Alexis in the middle of this! I was furious enough with myself for even trying so hard all that time to keep our marriage together. I neglected my own happiness for years, trying to hold our family intact. I cooked and cleaned and scrubbed his piss off the toilet for far too long, and now he wants to come into my house, question me, and demand to take my child? He wants to stomp in here, pointing fingers and making accusations about something he obviously knows nothing about. I sacrificed over a decade of my life to try to stay married to this asshole for the sake of our daughter.
“Get out,” I seethed with anger, pointing toward the door. “Get the hell out of my house right now!”
He glared at me with his piercing eyes that almost made me lose my resolve. “Not without Alexis.” Graham stood his ground while a battle of wills ensued between us.
Just then, a booming voice spoke from around the corner. “I believe she asked y
ou to leave.” Chris stepped through the doorway of the kitchen wearing a hoodie, a Yankees cap, and his favorite sunglasses. I’d forgotten that I’d given him a key to my house a week ago. He must have come through the back door.
“Who are you?” Graham sneered.
Chris took off his sunglasses and slid his hood off the back of his head. “Recognize me now, asshole?”
Graham narrowed his eyes at Chris. “You’re that kid.”
Chris laughed, one of those over-the-top, dramatic guffaws, then quickly recovered. With a cool tone, he smirked, “Hardly.”
“You fucked my wife,” Graham hissed.
Stepping toward him, Chris scoffed, “Pretty sure the court documents state otherwise.”
“Chris, don’t,” I warned. I couldn’t speak for Graham, but I felt sure Chris wouldn’t hesitate to throw a punch.
Chris continued to stare Graham down. Graham didn’t flinch.
“As I said,” Chris repeated coldly, “I believe Salem asked you to leave.”
After a few intense moments of them glaring at each other, unflinching, Graham finally retreated and took a step toward the door.
Just then, Alexis came out of the shadow at the top of the stairs. I didn’t know she’d been listening, and I cringed immediately.
“What’s going on?” she asked innocently as she descended.
Graham gave her a sidelong glance. “Fine,” he said to Chris, still smoldering, “I’ll leave. For Alexis’s sake.” He jutted a finger at me. “But this is not over.”
I wanted to bite that finger off. I wanted to be rid of him forever. Unfortunately, he was still my daughter’s father. Dammit.
Alexis looked at Graham, then swept her eyes toward Chris. “What’s going on?” she asked again, more firmly.
Chris relaxed and took a step toward her. “Nothing. Just a little misunderstanding.”
Graham nodded. “I was just leaving, sweetheart. I’ll see you this weekend.”
“Sure, dad,” she said, unconvinced. “This weekend.”
She walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek.
“See you later, hon,” he told her. With a single glance toward me, he stalked out the door and hopped into his Audi. I breathed a sigh of relief as he peeled out of the driveway.
Alexis split a glance between Chris and me. “I’m not stupid, by the way.” She crossed her arms over her chest in typical teen fashion.
Chris’s eyes widened. “I never thought you were. Besides, why do you say that?”
“I see the news. It’s plastered all over the internet. It’s not true, is it, mom?” she asked, pleading for some kind of explanation. “You and Chris? You know, when he was a teenager and all?”
I shook my head vigorously. “No, honey. You know how that stuff is all lies. Just the media. None of it’s true.” I took her hand and led her to the couch. Sitting her down, I put my hand on her knee. “The truth is I did know Chris when he was a teenager. I was his counselor back then. He needed me, and I needed him for very different reasons. There was nothing inappropriate between us like the media is portraying. When we met again several months ago at the concert, everything changed. But, we’re both adults now. Okay?”
Alexis nodded. “Okay. I didn’t believe any of that crap anyway.”
I smiled, relieved. “I knew you didn’t. I just wanted you to know the truth.”
“Thanks,” Alexis said as I wrapped my arms around her.
Giving her a squeeze, I whispered, “As Abraham Lincoln once said, you can’t always believe the crap you read on the internet.”
She laughed. “I know, mom. You’ve always told me that, but I really get it now.”
For the most part, Chris’s transition from the tour had been a fairly easy one, except the occasional run-in with the paparazzi. I’d learned to cope with the sensationalistic media propaganda. Every now and then, a blurb would run in the tabloids insinuating an inappropriate relationship between a juvenile client and his former counselor, and for a few days, I wouldn’t be able to walk through town without all-knowing eyes glaring at me. We’d learned to ignore the judgmental stares from little old ladies in line at the grocery store. They’d glance at the celebrity gossip headlines then peer at us. Finally putting two and two together, they’d look down their noses in disgust at our clasped hands. It was exhausting and comical at the same time.
Chris loved living in his new apartment and working in the recording studio. We’d spent several weekends repainting and remodeling to get them ready. Jeremy and Tommy even came to visit for a week to check everything out and get some practice time at the studio before they started recording the new album. I’d kept my distance that week so they could get a lot of work done, but was eager to meet the guys for the first time that Friday night.
“Look guys, Salem will be here any minute. I need you to be on your best behavior.” I tore through the apartment, trying to clean it up a little before she got there. My band mates were slobs. Salem shouldn’t have to deal with the nastiness I’d had to put up with while they were here this week. “Damn, Tommy, ever heard of a trash can?” I griped as I tossed the half-eaten Chinese takeout box and empty beer cans in the garbage.
Tommy kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “Damn, Chris. What’s the big deal? She’s just a girl.”
I stopped dead in my tracks.
Jeremy glared at Tommy, giving him the ‘I’d-shut-the-fuck-up-if-I-were-you’ look.
“What?” Tommy asked, ripping a bite of cold, leftover pizza off with the sides of his teeth like an uncivilized barbarian.
“You’re disgusting, man,” Jeremy groaned, and threw a pillow at him.
“What?” Tommy repeated. “I mean, who is this chick? She is just a girl, right?”
I hadn’t really talked to the guys much about Salem or my whereabouts during my free time since the day they gave me shit about her. They knew there was a girl, but they didn’t know much more than that. I’d just let them assume whatever they wanted. So I guess the fact that Tommy didn’t have a clue was my own fault.
“She’s not just a girl,” I stated, matter-of-factly. “She’s the girl.”
Apparently Jeremy had been keeping tabs better than I thought because he chimed in, waving his hands in Tommy’s face, “Earth to Tommy. Remember the girl? The one he met in Charlotte a while ago. The one he didn’t want go out with us that night for. The former counselor. Ring a bell?”
Tommy’s face lit up with understanding. “Oh shit. That girl?”
I nodded. “Yes. That girl.”
“Damn. I thought she was just a thing. I thought you moved here to be closer to your family, not because of some chick.”
I shook my head adamantly. “I told you a while ago, she’s different.”
A moment of clarity hit him like a ton of bricks. I knew what he was thinking. He was remembering all the hell I’d been through over Kaitlyn and how I never let another girl get to me like she did—until now. “Well, hell,” he said, throwing the half-eaten slice back into the box. “That changes things.”
Tommy didn’t have the emotional capacity to understand my feelings for Kaitlyn because the right woman just hadn’t come along for him yet. But he did see how shattered I was after she left the beach all those years ago. He watched me mope around the apartment, unable to eat or sleep. Those first few weeks after she was gone, he played the bass next to me on that stage, sensing the hollowness in my music. He bought me round after round of alcohol, trying to help me wash the pain of losing her away. He stood by me the day we signed with our first agent, and he watched me take that downward spiral into stardom. Yes, downward. There’s just something ironic about the phrase ‘rising to the top.’ That’s the thing about becoming a star. One day you’re this average, down-to-earth, good-hearted, talented artist and then suddenly you find yourself in a crazy whirlwind of money, parties, women, and alcohol. You become so wrapped up in it all that you don’t know which way is up or which way is down. You do things you ne
ver would have done in your average world because somehow becoming a star makes you feel larger than life. So, yeah, Tommy was with me every step of that downward spiral, helping me cope with the heartache of losing Kaitlyn in the only ways he knew how—women and alcohol.
“So, this girl’s the one, huh?” Tommy asked, tossing his pizza box in the garbage.
I nodded.
With a huge smile, and firm handshake that turned into our usual intricately choreographed display of hand movements that ended with a fist bump, he said, “I couldn’t be happier for you, man.”
“Thanks, man,” I said, giving him a one-armed side hug.
Just then, we heard a soft knock at the door.
I jogged to it, swinging it open. There stood Salem, beautiful as ever in a soft, black off-the-shoulder shirt, some skin-tight dark wash jeans, and some sexy as hell high heels.
My eyes raked over her exquisite body. “You look stunning,” I told her, wrapping my arms around her. “I’ve missed you this week.”
She buried her head in my chest, inhaling a deep, staggering breath. “I’ve missed you too.”
I ran my hands through her hair and across her back, feeling her warmth against me. Damn, I so wish we were alone right now.
Remembering that we weren’t the only two people in the room, I interrupted the moment by blurting, “Oh yeah, come on in. I want you to meet my boys.”
She stepped inside and it was as if all the oxygen were sucked out of the room. You could almost hear a pin drop. The guys stood there with their hands in their pockets, wide-eyed with that deer-in-headlights look. I knew they were just as blown away by her classic beauty as I was.
“Guys,” I said, snapping them to attention, “this is Salem. Salem, this is Jeremy and Tommy.”
Salem extended a hand to Jeremy first. “It’s so nice to finally meet you… uh…”
Taking her hand and giving it a shake, he responded, “Jeremy. It’s nice to meet you too, Salem. We’ve heard a lot about you.” Jeremy shot a sidelong glance in my direction.
