by Jesse Jordan
I hope not, but inside me that little worry keeps nipping at me, saying that maybe so.
Chapter 12
Rocky
I wake up to the sound of someone knocking on my door, and I'm jolted awake, wondering who the hell it is. Probably the Jehovah's Witnesses. They came by about a month ago. I turn over on the couch where I slept, pulling the cushion over my head. “Fuck off, I don't want none!”
The knock comes again, this time louder, and I get up, momentarily thinking I should have slept in something besides my underwear. I was too tired and screwed up last night after the freezing shower to do much more than to grab my underwear off the floor and then collapse on the couch, and right now I look particularly grungy. To hell with it, if some door to door salesman, JW, or whoever else wants to disturb me at.... okay, 8:23 in the morning isn't too bad, but still... if they want to wake me up, they can look at me in just my day-old briefs.
“What the hell do you want, can't you hear that I don't...” I start to rant as I open my front door, only to see Martha standing there in probably the most casual outfit I've ever seen her in, jeans and a sleeveless blouse. “You're dressed down.”
“Still more dressed than you,” she replies, pointing to my undies. “By the way, your lead guitarist is hanging out a little.”
I look down and see that after last night's cold shower, and not changing into fresh clothes afterward, I do seem to have slid out the side of my briefs a little, and I tuck myself back in. “Yeah well, what are you doing here anyway?”
“I know where you live Rocky, even if I've never been invited here before,” Martha says, following me in uninvited as I turn and go inside. To hell with it, she's already seen my cock, she can see my ass too as I head into the bedroom, dropping my briefs and kicking them towards my hamper. Thankfully, she at least stays in the hallway while I grab a fresh pair of undies and some shorts from my dresser. “You know, if you want to keep yourself out of the tabloids, I'd advise you to take an extra minute to start sleeping in a full set of clothes.”
“Not with the heating and air in this place, I'd bake to death in July,” I gripe. Looking in my dresser drawer, I grab a workout tank and pull it on as well, I might as well use my time today to do something useful. “What brings you here this fucking early anyway? I figured that I'd be paying you back on Monday.”
“Well, I did stick my neck out for you, Rocky. I'd like to get a first-hand account of all that went down, you know,” Martha says. I come out of my bedroom and see her leaning against the wall in my short hallway, a smile on her face. “Come on Rock, did you guys click?”
“Yeah, we clicked,” I reply, pushing past Martha and going into the kitchen. “You want a coffee?”
“Sure, why not?” Martha asks. Her expression changes when I grab the instant coffee from the cupboard and drop two spoonfuls of the crystals into a big mug for her before taking double that amount and putting it in my blender. “Oh… instant. And just what the hell are you making?”
“Healthy wake-up smoothie,” I grumble as I take out the rest of the ingredients. “Chocolate protein powder, coffee, and vitamin mix. I just don't feel like cooking this morning.”
Martha watches silently as I blend the concoction before mixing her coffee and microwaving it to warm it up, handing her the sugar and milk. “Not sure how you take it.”
“Black is fine for me,” she says, hopping up on the counter, sipping the coffee. “Well, I've had worse. Not trying to bitch, I'm guessing you bought the stuff to drop in that shake you've got going.”
“You want me with a six pack, this is the way I get it done,” I reply, drinking directly from the blender cup, draining the whole mix quickly in order to minimize the agony. Finishing it off, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and burp, wincing at the rumbling sensation in my stomach. Whatever else Martha has to say, she's on about a thirty-minute timer before the unavoidable, malodorous side effects of the protein powder come out. “Ugh.”
“I figured the chocolate would help,” Martha says, and I shake my head. “Really?”
“Non-fat, no sugar chocolate flavor,” I reply, passing over the tub. I rinse out my mouth and then the blender, then put it in the drying rack. “It's why I use full milk. Maybe some psycho bodybuilder lies to themselves into believing that this is really chocolate flavored and be able to mix it with skim milk or water, but I've had dog biscuits that taste better.”
Martha reads the ingredients, then shakes her head. “I probably don't want to know where you ate dog biscuits, or why. But back to the subject at hand. You enjoyed yourself with Cora?”
I nod, smiling for the first time. “Yeah, I did. Maybe I was an idiot for all those years back in high school, because the two of us... well, let me ask you, Martha, have you ever kissed a guy and just had everything sort of click all at once? No second kiss needed, no hesitancy, just... bam, and things sort of fall into place?”
“Yeah... about two months before I found out the guy was cheating on me with a backup dancer for Miley Cyrus,” Martha says with a sarcastic sneer. “To top it off, it wasn't a female dancer.”
“Ouch,” I comment, but I'm feeling better now that I'm up. “Sorry to hear that. At least I don't have to worry about that with Cora.”
“No... but you might have something else to worry about,” Martha says sadly, taking out her phone and passing it to me. “Seems you made the scandal sheets again.”
I look at the screen, reading the headline and seeing the three photos before I start shaking my head in rejection of what it says. “Fuck. Fuck… FUCK!”
I'm angry, and it takes a force of will to not throw the phone across my kitchen so I hand it back to Martha, who tucks the phone safely away before I can break it. I stomp out of the kitchen, running my hands through my hair. “Goddammit, Martha, they went too far this time! I wasn't causing any trouble, there's nothing there that can even be considered raising hell. I went out to dinner, we had a walk on the beach, and we kissed! That's it!”
“That's it?” Martha asks, and I nod. “Really?”
“I invited her back here for a nightcap, and sure, I wanted to make a move, but she shut me down,” I protest. “She said that she wanted to, but last night wasn't the right time. So, I called her a cab, and she left by eleven fifteen. I took a half hour long freezing cold shower, pulled my undies back on, and you saw me thirty seconds after I woke up. Do I look like someone who got up to shenanigans last night?”
“Left you with blue balls, huh? Was that before or after the cold shower?” Martha asks lightly, holding up her hands when I growl in reply. “Chill, Rocky. Chill. I'm just trying to inject some humor into the whole scenario.”
I shake my head, sighing. “Dammit Martha, that was why I was so happy when you scored me a res at Zimzala. It's far enough off the celeb route that there shouldn't have been anyone there. And I behaved myself in the restaurant, one hundred percent. Fuck, there's nothing wrong with kissing a woman like Cora on the beach, is there?”
“Kissing on the beach? Not at all, I wish I could get a few of those,” Martha replies wistfully. “Honestly, I don't know what happened. I didn't give your name when I made the res, as you know. It was under Gashouse's name, and you left Cora's name with the front of the house.”
“I know!” I protest. “So, how the hell did they find out? Why is my name on the front page of CelebWatch?”
Martha sighs, shaking her head. “I don't want to say it, from everything you've said you really like this girl, and you've been friends in the past...”
“What?” I ask, turning. “I hope you're not saying Cora did this.”
“I'm saying I don't know,” Martha replies. “You're right. I did everything I could to make sure that the paparazzi didn't have a clue as to where you were last night. But someone knew. Those are pro level pictures; not someone snapping quickly from their iPhone. Especially the beach one, that's a far away shot made in low light, that needs real equipment to get. I'm guessing the only r
eason they didn't put pics of you two in full tonsil hockey mode is because of the way she's turned. You're a public figure, you can't expect to have privacy, sadly enough. But Cora... Well, there's a few reasons why her face might not be there. Either the photog didn't have any good ones of her in that kiss, which I doubt. Or they got a case of the conscience and decided to not publish the ones of a normal woman.”
“Ha!” I laugh bitterly, sitting down on the couch. “Those assholes don't have a conscience. I think they chop that off the day you take a job with these fucking companies.”
Martha nods in agreement but doesn't smile. “Which brings me to the possibility that I don't want to say, but have to. Rocky, Cora's not the same dewy-eyed girl that may or may not have had a crush on you back in high school. She's twenty-three, and she's been busting her ass trying to get her way up the ladder in this town for three years. But a lot of people have seen the fact that nowadays, it doesn't take talent to get your fifteen minutes of fame. With enough attention, they figure that is when the money starts to come in. And Cora knows that you're tabloid fodder, Rock. So, what if she decided to shortcut her way to that fifteen minutes? Make a little cash on the side, a couple hundred bucks for a couple of pictures. You said she took off early, right? Well, this story was posted around midnight, according to the timestamp. That's enough time to verify the story so that the site can't be sued, drop a few details like what you guys ate, and collect her cash in time to enjoy the weekend.”
I shake my head, anger clouding my thoughts. “No... no way, Martha.”
“I hope not Rocky, but I'm just saying... it could be. And if she sold you out for a couple hundred bucks for a kiss, what else could she be trying to do with the information she has at her fingertips?” Martha asks. “Just think about it. But if it were up to me, I'd take her out of the booth. She's working magic with you guys, but you guys don't need her, Rock. The magic's happening because of the Fragments, not because of the producer.”
“And if she's innocent?” I ask, upset. “I just snatch away a huge opportunity from a good woman, a good producer, and someone that I care about? That's really cold shit, Martha.”
“I know. That, unfortunately, is why band managers are often the most hated people in show biz,” Martha says gravely, making me immediately regret my anger at her. “Just... you think about it. Gimme a call tonight or tomorrow. If we have to, we can shut down recording for a few days to bring in someone new, or at least someone to tag team the booth with her. We wanna make sure she's not stabbing you in the back. I'm just trying to look out for your best interests, Rocky.”
Martha leaves, and in the silence that follows, I stew. I want to call Cora, but I realize that in all the weeks that we've worked together, I don't know her cell phone number. I don't even know where she lives.
The fact is, Martha has a point. While the Cora I knew five years ago, wouldn't have ever gone behind my back, even then she was trying to use the media to get attention. Mainly for me, but also building her resume with social media and YouTube. I'm sure some of the same videos that helped Ian reach out to me, also helped her get her foot in the door with some of her internships. And she has been out of school for only three years. The odds of a three-year producer being teamed up with an up and coming act, it's nearly unheard of unless the act already has a relationship with the producer. Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the 'overnight success' in the music business is actually guys and girls busting their asses for years. Or shortcutting the system, whether fairly through things like The Voice and other shows, or through more scandalous ways. Like seduction.
I want to trust Cora. I want to believe in her, in the way she touched me, the way we kissed… but it's not just me that I have to think about either. And there's always been that part of her that she's not talking about. Why is she leaving the studio so early each day? When we worked with the folks at Oceanside, we were there until eight, nine, sometimes even midnight. We played until we couldn't play anymore and then picked up the next day to ride the next wave. She's always leaving early, both from work and then last night. What is going on with her? And with that question, can I trust her?
I gotta talk with my brothers. They'll be able to help.
“So, Martha thinks that the leak was Cora?” Joey asks as we carry the kettlebells over to the empty space on the floor, both of us dripping with sweat. I've used the space in between sets of our workout to voice my worries with Joey, who's been his normal self, thinking quietly before offering advice. “You know, man, I don't know.”
We start our first set of timed kettlebell swings, one minute where we pass the bell from hand to hand. When Joey's watch goes off, we stop, setting them down gratefully. “Yeah, I'm having problems with that too. If I were solo, Joey, I'd say to hell with it. I'm a big boy, I can cover my own ass, you know what I'm saying?”
“She made that big of an impact on you?” Joey asks, and his watch beeps again, the two of us starting the next timed interval. When we set it down, I have to take a few seconds to catch my breath before I can answer.
“For what she did for me back in high school, I'd give her the benefit of the doubt. But it's not just me, you know. I don't want to risk your happiness or Ian’s. Neither can I leave your asses hanging out in the breeze.”
Setting his kettlebell down, Joey hums. “I see what you mean. But you forget something. Ian and I are big boys too. And some of us are bigger than others.”
I chuckle a little, Joey's trying to keep the mood light, which I can appreciate. We finish our last set with the kettlebells and take them back to the rack, putting them away. “I guess if I make too big a mistake, you can always have a future as a gigolo.”
Joey laughs, and we move on to the last movement of our workout, ankles to the bar. Sure, it’s mostly for our stomachs, but it works the back too. It's painful, but it's a great finisher, especially as we can go from super-strict form, holding our legs out straight, until by the end we can practically just roll our bodies up in little balls to get the movement completed. We don't talk much, it just hurts too much to focus. Thank God we only do two sets.
Dropping down from the pull-up bar, Joey shakes out his hands. “Why do we put ourselves through that hell?”
“Because we know that it'll pay off when someone actually makes a music video, they're going to want us with our shirts off,” I answer, only half joking. “You know how it is.”
“I don't think Iggy Pop ever did this,” Joey says as we head over to the rowing ergometers. Sitting down side by side, we grab the handles and start pulling at a casual pace. The idea today is endurance and working off my frustration. “So... you made a decision?”
“Why's it gotta be my decision?” I gripe, pulling on the handle. “And why the hell did we pick the ergometer instead of something slightly less painful, like full contact bare knuckle kickboxing?”
“The choice is yours because you're the one who knows Cora best,” Joey says, breathing hard and ignoring my bitching about the rowing. “You went to school with her, and you're the one who's kissed her. You've never kissed me, by the way.”
“You're cute, but not that kind of cute,” I joke, and Joey laughs. “We're a band though.”
“And Ian and I will back you one hundred percent on this, regardless. This is your thing, Rocky. Do you trust your feelings for Cora or the history we've got with Martha?” Joey replies. We keep rowing, focusing during the quick fifteen minutes to finish off our workouts, and when the final beep goes off, I'm bathed in sweat.
Thankfully, the gym has an outdoors hot tub. It’s perfect for recovery, and my next stop. “Thanks for listening to what’s on my mind, Joey.”
“Thanks for getting me out of having to visit my cousin who lives in Inglewood,” Joey replies with a smile and a roll of his eyes. “I still gotta figure out how to deal with distantly related family members who think that just because I'm putting out records that it's an open invitation to hit me up for money for every project they can think of
.”
I shake my head, both amused and frustrated. “Well, at least I don't have that particular problem on my hands. I think I'm going to hit up the hot tub, or else I'm going to feel like hell tomorrow when I come back.”
“You're doing all this again tomorrow?” Joey asks, incredulous. “Damn dude, you must have frustrations. All right then, I'm going to go find a place to chill out a little bit. Maybe I'll go hang on the beach for a while to make sure my cousin doesn't think that I can still drag my ass over to his house today. Glad I don't have relationship problems. Since I'm a hundred percent single, I think I will see if there’re any good-looking girls out on the sand. So, you made a decision?”
“Yeah, I think I have. I'll give Martha a call, then I'll be in touch with you and Ian. We might get a long weekend out of it, but we'll have to see.”
Chapter 13
Cora
Bella can see that I'm happy and excited when I drop her off at daycare today, and I have to admit that I'm practically skipping heading back to the car and sitting down behind the wheel. Today's the day. After the great date Friday, and a weekend that was one of the most relaxing and fun that I can remember in recent memory, I woke up this morning knowing that today, during one of the breaks in recording maybe, I'm going to tell the guys about Bella. All the guys need to understand why I've been insistent on skipping out by six o'clock, but more importantly, Rocky needs to understand what he's getting himself into. If he still wants me after that, I'm more than ready to go to his bed or have him come to mine. I fully, one hundred percent, think that he can be a good man in Bella's life. I even decided that today, instead of spending the lunch hour in the booth, I'd go out with the guys. It'd be easier to tell them over tacos than it would over a sound mixer.
