I sat back soaking in the afternoon sun. I had at least an hour before I had to be anywhere and I chose to revel in it instead of stress about how soon it would all be over, which was my typical modus operandi.
Lydia, the ultimate in cool, shifted in her chair, grinned, and smoothly said, “Don’t turn around, Lizzie, but it looks like some goth-giant-vampire is about to walk past us. He’s got to be wearing lifts in his boots. Just take a gander to your right as he walks past.”
I played it cool, didn’t move, and slid my eyes to the side to glance as two guys walked past. That’s when I lost my cool, and gave myself whiplash.
“Rockstar!” I squealed. Yes, I admit it I squealed.
I leaned over the table and hissed at Lydia, “Oh my God it’s him!”
He turned with a toss of his glorious hair. He wore round black sunglasses, so I couldn’t tell if he looked at me or just past at my ear.
“Invisagirl.” He smiled. An actual smile, not a faint grin like he sported two nights before, but a million watt, blind me with white teeth, smile. He had a predatory quality to his smile. Maybe it was his large white teeth, maybe I just wanted to be his prey.
All of it had an instant zing effect on me. I vibrated. My cells hummed. He remembered me, and he smiled in my direction. He didn’t stop to consult the guy he was with, just switched directions, stepping over the wall with his amazing long legs and striding over to us. Today he wore all black, tight jeans, a button up shirt, and a vest with a pocket watch on a gold chain, no large leather coat. His clothes emphasized the difference between his broad shoulders and narrow hips. He had a distinct sense of style that labeled him a rocker much more so today than it had the other evening.
He pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. “Hi. I see we are having afternoon coffee with a lovely friend.” He addressed the air directly behind my head. Still toying with my powers of invisibility.
“Yes, well, chai tea to be exact.” Why did I have to pick now to be so particular? Right, just to say something. So, the universe could remind me I was a card carrying dork, with a capital D.
“Will you introduce me to your lovely friend? This isn’t Inconsiderate Friend is it?” His voice was as smooth and deep as I remembered.
Lydia glanced at me quizzically.
I mouthed “Trish” at her.
She nodded in understanding.
She had full disclosure of my failed evening with Trish, and how Rockstar made me feel. Well, most of it, anyway. I kept the details of my erotic fantasy of him to myself.
“Oh no, this isn’t her. This is…” I paused, wondering should I use her name or give Lydia a code moniker?
“Lovely Friend,” he finished for me. I was doing the obligatory hand motions, like a TV spokesmodel presenting the next vowel.
“Lovely Friend,” I motioned toward Lydia, then motioning toward Rockstar, “this is Rockstar.”
“Of little consequence,” he finished.
I looked around for the guy he was with. “Where’s your associate?”
“Oh, Studio Guy?” He looked around.
Just then Studio Guy joined us. He had made his way through the restaurant to come to the patio. I guess he was not tall enough to walk over walls with grace and dignity.
“Ah Studio Guy,” Rockstar began, “Please meet Lovely Friend and Invisagirl. Ladies, Studio Guy.”
Studio Guy leaned over to shake hands. He wasn’t privy to the game of nicknames so as he took my hand he said, “I’m Doug.”
Lydia introduced herself with her real name as well. Doug sat next to Lydia, and she sort of scooted closer to him. Did she know she did that with men? If a man was close, she would position herself to be closer.
Doug wasn’t bad looking; he just wasn’t anything like the angel-god next to me. I could tell Doug liked Lydia. Guys liked Lydia. I tended to fade into the background of Lydia if men were around. Lydia was slim and delicate; with extra enhanced curves and a rich tan she maintained all year long. Her exes were more than happy to enhance her. She had her eyes fixed, her boobs implanted, and a Botoxed brow. She had big brown eyes, Hollywood glamour, and an evil sense of humor. Then I realized Rockstar also regarded Lydia. He looked past me, but directly at her. Suddenly, I hated her.
She cocked her head to one side studying Rockstar. He and Doug explained how they had spent the day touring a few of the studios that Doug represented, meeting with different sound engineers.
Lydia had that expression on her face, that I’m completely involved in what you are saying look. Men responded to her when she gave them that look. I think I actually really hated Lydia just then, forget being best friends. She was giving Rockstar that look.
I know I shouldn’t hate her, after all she couldn’t help it. She was the blonde trophy men went after. I sat further back in my chair and listened and watched resigned to my fate of living vicariously through Lydia. Rockstar had the most amazing neck and jaw, and even though he was not interested in me, I still wanted to chew on his lips.
In a smooth motion he leaned back, placing his arm on the back of my chair. Even clueless me knows that was an action of what? Possession? No, he was leaning back, and my chair was a convenient height for his arm. It meant nothing. That didn’t keep the vibration I experienced on a cellular level from speeding up. It was difficult to breathe. He was so close. With his other arm he removed his glasses and tossed them on the table. In a continuation of the same fluid motion he ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face.
I think it was more sculpted than I remembered. His jaw was mostly smooth with a hint of blue under the skin indicating he would have a dark beard if he let it grow, and I noticed just how thick the hair in his sideburns was as they tapered into long points along the edge of his jaw, almost like a beard, but the points ended before his chin. His ear lobes were pierced with large gauge plugs and looked like they would be soft to nibble on. I noticed a faint scar that divided his left eyebrow, and another small scar on his cheek next to the same eye. And, his eyes, they were blue. Electric vibrant blue.
Lydia giggled.
I definitely hated her.
“I’ve got it,” she said. She leaned forward and asked Rockstar to hum a specific song.
He did. The deep sound resonated perfectly in his chest.
“Thought so,” she said and kicked me in the shin. Great, my supposed best friend was not only stealing my erotic fantasy man simply by existing, now she was beating me up.
“What?” I snapped, maybe a little too sharply.
“Give me your iPod.” She put her hand out and wiggled her fingers to speed me along. She knew I still carried one and had my music separate from my other devices. I handed it over after digging it out of my bag. I was keenly aware that Rockstar was not watching me but watching some area just past me. He would focus on Lydia, but not me. While I tended to not consider myself beautiful, I had been told I was pretty once or twice when I was younger. I had a heart shaped face with high, wide cheekbones and a pointy little chin. My eyes were round and dark blue, and I had a straight sloped nose. Why couldn’t he look at me? Was I uglier than I realized? Was I really that unkempt? Did I have dirt on my face? Maybe I smelled funny.
Lydia scrolled, muttering to herself. “Don’t you have a rock playlist in here? There it is. Damn, you have a lot of Landslide. There!”
She handed the player back. The band was AudioVox, an older grunge-metal-rock band, the song “My Destiny.” One of their singers had this yummy deep dark, toe curling voice. She gave me one of those, yo dumbass get a clue expressions. She nodded at the player, then nodded at Rockstar, all while looking intently at me.
I gawked up at Rockstar.
He grinned at Lydia. “Busted?”
I reached over and gave him a good-natured smack on his arm. “You said you were from an insignificant band, you’re in my iPod!”
“I can’t help it if you have questionable taste in music. You like Landslide, ew.” He mock cringed at
my slap.
“Oh you,” was all I could muster.
He was actually from a band I listened to.
“I know who you are! Sort of. Well I guess it’s good I never knew what you looked like before.”
“How’s that?” he asked.
“Well, then you would have witnessed my other superpower. Fangirl: Puddle of Goo.”
He laughed.
I loved his laugh.
I felt as if I should temporarily manifest my Fangirl powers, but he was interacting with me on a human level, and I was grasping at every moment for my memories. This was the closest I would probably get to witty banter with someone who I considered an actual rock star. And well, if he was interested in my friend, then I guess I had better suck it up, and take what pleasure from his smiles I could. I glanced over at Doug. Yeah, that wasn’t even something I wanted to think about. Not that he wasn’t good looking, but I had little-to-no interest in guys of middling height, with hair colored hair, who wore Dockers. Been there, done that, had the divorce papers.
“Geesh.” I had another dork reinforcement moment in life. I hid my face in my hands.
Doug started to mention some different clubs in the area. He mentioned Off the River, and Lydia said, “Oh, they always have great shows.”
“Decent sound?” Rockstar asked.
“Pretty good,” she answered.
Doug added they had an excellent sound system.
“We are thinking about a place for the band to try out new material on fans when we are in town recording,” Rockstar explained.
“Off the River, would be a great place to do that. We should go check it out tonight. The studio can get us in, we have an arrangement with them. Bands using our studios can get stage time easier. I can go scout the bands they have. Would you ladies like to join us?” Doug asked.
Lydia looked at me and said, “That would be fun, but I will probably have to pass.”
“Oh,” Doug sounded crestfallen. He clearly liked Lydia. That invitation had been for her, not me.
“But you go,” she said to me, kicking me in the shin again.
“I’ve got to check,” I started.
“I’ll babysit,” she cut in.
“Oh, you have kids?” Rockstar asked.
I held up my fingers showing two. “Maybe I can get Miss Angie to watch them, if Richard won’t.”
“Is Richard your husband?” he asked.
“He’s her ex-Dick,” Lydia answered.
He made a noise of comprehension.
“Yes, the ex-husband, and I’ve got two little girls. And you?” I asked, hoping he would say not married.
“I have no kids that I know of, and no wives or ex-wives, either,” he chuckled.
Lydia piped in with, “I’m always looking out for my next future ex-husband, I’m three for three right now. With one kid, who’s all grown up.”
“I’ve survived one marriage, then she decided she was a lesbian,” Doug added.
“My first ex is gay!” Lydia shared. “My second was an embezzler, and my third was just too old. He was ready to retire and play shuffle-board and I wanted to go party.”
“She’s got the real tale of divorce woe,” Lydia said pointing at me. “Dick was a dick, and had an affair.”
“Yeah,” I added, “Just after Bree was born. I was too fat,” I added the finger quotes as I spoke, “too bitchy, and I couldn’t control the kids I had wanted.”
“What a jackass,” Rockstar growled.
“While she was in the house,” Lydia added in a conspiratorial voice.
“What?” Both Rockstar and Doug asked simultaneously.
“Lydia!” I sighed. I focused on my cup of tea. “I was in the house, with the babies. He brought home some tramp, and was going at it when I walked in and told him I had been home the whole time, and when he and the whore were done they both needed to leave, and he did not need to come home.”
Doug said, “That’s ten kinds of stupid.”
Rockstar’s voice was menacing and deep as he growled, “That’s beyond stupid, how could he not know his wife and children were in the house? Were you asleep?”
“No, not asleep. Watching TV actually. They had to walk past the room we were in. But I’ve been invisible in more than one way for a long time.” I sighed. It was true and it made me sad. I continued to stare at my tea.
Rockstar reached over to my face. He gently brushed my jaw, turning my face toward him. He reached over and removed my sunglasses, and for the first time he made eye contact. The sheer power and electricity I felt in his gaze shook me to my toes.
“You are not invisible. I can’t help but see you.”
His voice washed over me, soothing me.
We stared into each other’s eyes. I sank into him. I think I probably would have started to cry, it had been so long since I felt that anyone really noticed me. Of course, that’s when the waitress, seeing we had extra people at our table, arrived to take their order. When Rockstar’s gaze snapped away from me placing all of his attention on the waitress and his appropriation of food, it felt like a physical loss.
We made arrangements to meet at the club later. Lydia and I left them finishing their drinks. It was a good thing that Lydia drove. I was too shocked to function. It was autopilot that allowed me to pick the kids up from their schools on time.
With all I had to do to get the girls ready for their evening, make dinner and get them ready for bed, I barely had time to fluff my hair and put on a clean shirt before Lydia showed up. I wasn’t able to get Richard, or his mother to watch the girls for me, so Lydia volunteered. She ran her eyes up and down my body, wiggled her finger in a circle at my clothes and said, “Next time we need to do some wardrobe planning, you are not going to get laid wearing that.”
“I doubt that’s even an option.”
I basically wore the same clothes I had on all day: khaki cargo pants, Fluevog Angel boots, and a black t-shirt. I once had an idea of style, and disposable income to spend on it, the only real relic of those days were my boots. I had changed into a clean T-shirt, it had silver angel wings on the back, it was at least ten years old. I needed new clothes. She was right.
Miracles happened that night, the first being parking was ridiculously convenient in the Gulch for a night club. Not complaining, only I ended up being a bit early, and had to wait outside in front of the club for a while.
I must have appeared chilly, for when they arrived, Rockstar pulled me into a warm hug, and I felt the chill melt off my muscles. Well it was that or I had just gone completely limp and boneless. Great time for Fangirl: Puddle-of-Goo to show up. Doug inquired about Lydia. I explained that she ended up sitting for me since none of my resources proved to be available. He shrugged as if he was going to just brush it off, but he made a point of giving me his card and saying specifically it was for her. That was the power of Lydia, men made sure she knew they were interested.
I had never been much for the club scene. I kept hearing how fabulous it was. But for Music City, I managed to end up at some terrifically bad shows. Bands seem to think the volume knob needed to be cranked to eleven in all venues. Most of the time sound quality was so bad, I could never actually hear anything only the buzzing in my ears. So, I tended to avoid going to shows. But in the case of Off the River, they really did have a good sound system, or rather a really good sound engineer. I could hear the sound quality of the band on stage. It was a little three man group playing incredibly forgettable music. They were the second in a line-up of four or five groups that night. There was no way I was going to be able to stay the entire time and listen to them all. I would have to get back to Lydia so she could get her beauty sleep.
Rockstar secured a place for us off to the side of the bar, and in good visual range of the stage. We were next to a column that had a high shelf where we had a place to keep our drinks. His height was a distinct advantage, no one else could reach the shelf. The club was full but not packed, and loud enough that conversation
s required that mouths be placed right next to ears. I quite enjoyed that, especially since I think Rockstar was placing his mouth extra close on purpose. His breath was warm, and occasionally his lips would brush the edges of my ear sending shivers of delight down my spine.
The next band played moodier music, the type that’s good to listen to around a bonfire. At least that’s what it made me think of. I stood in front of him watching the band. He put his arm around my shoulders pulling me back, so I leaned into him. My hands held onto his arm as it rested across my collar bone, holding on to my shoulder. I closed my eyes and let him hold me. His breathing was steady and comforting, his chest warm on my back. I tried to figure out how I could turn to face him so I could kiss him. I really wanted to kiss him. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t have been holding me like that if he wasn’t interested too.
I felt him shift, his lips brushed my ear and his breath was a warm caress. He didn’t speak, just moved his lips ever so slightly over my ear. I couldn’t help it, I leaned into his lips as he nuzzled into my neck.
“If I played here—” his voice was thick and gravelly, lower than usual “—would you come see me?”
I turned to face him. “I’d come for you.”
Seeing the wicked grin spread across his lips I realized what I said. Blushing, I hid behind my hand.
“Now that’s a Freudian Slip I’d like to take off of you,” he chuckled.
I blushed harder and buried my face into his chest. I couldn’t believe I said that. Well, at least he knew I wanted him, but it was so embarrassing.
He lifted my chin with his fingers and then kissed me. It was that simple of an action, but the results were far from simple. Old TV shows used fireworks as a metaphor for couples doing the deed, there’s a reason for that. I had lights flaring and bursts of colors behind my eyelids, and this was just a kiss. I felt a pull low in my stomach that urged me to consume him.
His lips were warm and firm as they slid across mine. It was a great kiss. It started soft, lips closed, then he teased my lower lip with his, nudging my lips apart. If his voice was chocolate, his lips were dulce de leche with cinnamon. His breath tasted like his drink, a spiced rum with a hint of sugar and cherries. His tongue teased mine with a few caresses, and then the kiss was over.
Ballad Ares Page 2
