Falling Stars (The B–Side)

by J. L. Brooks

  I paused before placing the needle on the record, savoring the anticipation. So much time had passed before an event jarred me from my monotony. As a writer, I am constantly trying to transcribe these emotions into written words without actually experiencing them. The real thing was overwhelming and indescribable.

  Lowering the turntable arm slowly to find the right spot, a slight snap of noise occurred immediately before the space filled with delicate piano notes and rapid snares from the Omni Trio track as the tiny needle pulled the melody from the grooves. The engineers knew what was coming and scrambled to adjust levels against my own manipulations of the treble and bass.

  I clutched the headphones around my neck and closed my eyes. For whatever reason, he had my favorite record in his case. The one I bought him long ago, not because it was his style but because I loved it, and he would play it to make me happy. Subtly, my head bobbed back and forth as the music took me to a place long gone. It had been years since I had heard it, and each measure filled my soul with joy. Hunter removed the headphones but motioned for me to stay in place. Wrapped around my waist, his body moved against mine as he transitioned into the next record.

  I stilled once I recognized the Cleveland Lounge record, another one of my favorites. I could not deny how heart wrenching it was even without the memories attached. After the song ended, I gently placed my hand on the volume control and turned it down.

  “Play me something new and happy. Please.” My mood was in desperate need of redirection. Rather than reaching for his case, he placed my hand over his heart and smiled.

  “If I could reproduce what I feel right now, it would be the most beautiful piece of music in the world.”

  With his other hand, Hunter reached behind my head and pulled me into a consuming kiss. Melting into his arms, the sweet gesture was exactly what I needed to purge the sadness. I lowered my head to his chest and giggled.

  “I think I hear it, and you’re right. Start working on that.”

  As I leaned away, the grip of his fist tightened in my hair and held me still against him.

  “I can only write it if you help me, Lila.”

  His voice was more of a plea than a request. We were fooling ourselves to think anything would happen beyond tomorrow. We had been in this place before, away from everything where life could be perfect. Now I knew that it was short-lived and that I should cherish every minute possible, as they were limited.

  “I’m sure I can arrange something.”

  Giving him a wink, I knew better than to affect his energy in a negative manner. If he was happy, it would carry him through the rest of the evening. As long as he knew everything was okay, he could mentally prepare for the demanding show. I cringed, thinking about the times I would start fights with him, intentionally knowing he would have a bad set. That was perhaps one of the worst things I could do, other than someone stealing his needles or records. It ranked up there with things that a DJ’s girlfriend should never do. I wasn’t his girlfriend now, but the rules were still the same.

  I sat on a speaker as he ran through his set and grew more excited. Hearing something on the radio is far different than experiencing it in person. I had listened to him over time, but this was extraordinary. It was a rare gift being able to see someone who had grown in their talent. He made everything look so effortless, which is what a performer does. After approving everything during the setup, he mischievously grabbed my hand and raced to the dressing room. No sooner had the door shut than I was hurled against it. Rough fingers ripped my shorts to my ankles before flipping me around, pressing my cheeks to the cool metal. I balanced on my forearms to prevent my head from banging into the door with the pounding I was about to receive.

  He was in a good mood. My body became a channel for any restlessness he contained. The bruises from the night before would only deepen as his fingers took hold of my hipbones for leverage. My fingers laced through his sweaty hair as his head curled into my neck and he bit at my shoulders and collarbone. I could take this—I had to. For the first time in forever, I was feeling something real.

  “Lila, we can’t just keep screwing around and avoid the truth. What are we doing here?”

  Knowing I would have a difficult time sitting on the plane ride back to Ohio, I reminded him exactly what was going on.

  “We are not avoiding anything. You invited me to Chicago for the weekend, nothing more.”

  I was trying to be nonchalant about the situation; I refused to appear needy or like I was holding false hope. Reaching down and picking up the button that popped off my shorts, I placed it gently in his hand and closed his fingers around it.

  “A new souvenir,” I stated quietly before gripping the doorknob and pulling it open.

  He remained subdued while looking down at his fist before shoving the button into his pocket. Passing by, Hunter grabbed my hand and began to walk away from the stage.

  “Where are we going? Are you not supposed to be heading the other way?”

  He seemed hurried while pulling me through the crowd that was growing thicker. There were still a few hours before he went on, yet I thought he would stay close in the event he was summoned.

  “I need to take you somewhere, Lila.”

  Following his rushed steps, I surrendered to the unknown and believed it would have to be something better than yesterday. We traveled through the maze of concrete into the parking garage where a town car arrived a few moments after Hunter sent a text.

  “Must be nice having the world at your feet. I can’t wait to see you eat some humble pie in my mama’s kitchen a few days from now.”

  His face took on a melancholy expression. My mother loved him; he even referred to her as Mama. However, he stopped coming over shortly after we separated, despite being close with my brother as well. It was the natural order of things, but one more way our relationship complicated matters.

  “It’s one of the things I am looking forward to most. I was hoping you could ask her to make fried chicken and cookie bars. I know she saves it for special occasions, so I thought it might be easier for you to persuade her.”

  Picturing Hunter under my family’s roof once again brought both happiness and turmoil. I couldn’t think about it too much because I was starting to feel physically ill. Thankfully, the car was taking us to the John Hancock tower, per Hunter’s request. The drive was relatively short, and he asked the driver to stay nearby, so I assumed whatever he had planned would not take very long.

  He dragged me through the glass doors and massive atrium towards the elevators. As he hit the button for the 95th floor, I glanced at the others around us and felt quite underdressed, but nothing compared to the night before. The doors opened to a large restaurant called the Signature Room. A gorgeous young woman greeted us and led the way to a table in the corner, surrounded by floor to ceiling panoramic views high above the city below. We were facing west where the sun was beginning to set and blazed against Lake Michigan. The yellow lights of adjacent skyscrapers illuminated brightly on the horizon. The view was nothing short of breathtaking.

  “Do you like it?” he asked while pulling out my chair.

  I beamed with delight. Anyone who did not find pleasure in this could only be afraid of heights, and even then, they could surely see the beauty around them.

  “Of course, it’s spectacular. Why wouldn’t I?”

  His finger trailed down my cheek and around my ear while pinning the hair behind it.

  “I should have brought you here last night. I know it doesn’t make up for it. But I don’t want to leave you in Cleveland the same way I did before. I want you to have good memories of me. More than bad ones. I want you to think of me and smile, not feel the way you have all these years.”

  My response was interrupted by the waiter approaching our table. I knew my eyes were red and chose to look out the window while Hunter ordered for us before looking up and smiling briefly. He ordered the vanilla crème brulee and butterscotch cheesecake. Dinner would have
been nice, but I knew there was no time. The pause in conversation gave me time to think about what I wanted to say, which was different from what I actually did.

  “Hunter, let it go. All of it. The past, this week, yesterday. I know what I said was pretty harsh, but I didn’t mean it like that. I heard you, but I wasn’t in a place to really listen. You have nothing to prove to me and nothing to atone for. There are too many things we cannot change. You and I are the bird and the fish that fell in love and could never be together because the stars just were not aligned. It never stopped me from loving you, and it never will. It’s just how it is.”

  He swallowed hard and held my hand, rubbing softly on my fingers and palm.

  “Remember our first day here? We went to Sushi Wabi in the Silver District and drank too many sake bombs and then continued on to the Lava Lounge to get even drunker.”

  I laughed at the recalled memory.

  “Yeah, the street sign was loose and I kept trying to stand up, and it spun in the concrete. I was praying I wouldn’t vomit in the taxi back to your apartment. It was also the first night we . . .”

  My eyes closed as the past surfaced. It was the first time we were ever intimate. Despite the majority of the details being fuzzy, I could still recall the way I felt.

  Hunter’s hand tightened a little bit. “Hold that thought, that’s one.”

  Opening my eyes, I looked confused. “One what?”

  Drawing closer to my face, he brought his lips to my ear and whispered, “One time I am certain I made you happy. Now tell me about your twenty-second birthday.”

  My breathing increased to match my pulse. I did not know what he was intending to do by drawing forth these past moments in time.

  “You planned a romantic weekend. You booked a hotel, bought me sexy lingerie. Everything was orchestrated, but my cat got sick and almost died. I was afraid I couldn’t pay the bill to save her, so you cancelled everything and used the money for the vet.”

  “That’s two.” He shuddered.

  “Hunter, you don’t have to do this.”

  “But I do, Lila. I haven’t seen you in over a decade, and I know you are about to leave my life, possibly forever. Not everything was bad, just a few things. But those few things have overshadowed everything good that happened between us. It’s not about us being together again. It’s just important to me. These memories are special, meant for us to share for the rest of our lives. I don’t want you to forget that at one point you loved me.”

  I breathed in and out deeply. My lungs filled with stagnant air, gasping for something fresh and sustaining.

  “Hunter, I will always love you. It’s also one of the reasons I can’t stand your ass.”

  I laughed jovially while trying to break the tension. I hated this heavy shit. I avoided it at all cost. This is why I didn’t do relationships. He smiled, knowing I wasn’t ready to go there. Wherever “there” was.

  We sat quietly across from one another, waiting for dessert to arrive. Before the waiter returned with our sweets, Hunter scooted his chair next to mine. Hidden beneath the white tablecloth, his hand perused the opening of my shorts. Our backs faced the surrounding patrons, oblivious to our actions. His hand dipped below the waistband and his fingers gently moved in a circular motion.

  “I can’t stand you, either. Sometimes you can be such a cold bitch. Other times like now, you mold so perfectly to my direction and threaten every excuse I have to distance myself.”

  We appeared as lovers, caught in each other’s gaze, yet I was desperate for relief. My body was so tightly wound, despite being thoroughly worked over just an hour before. I would never be tired of Hunter Michaels. Not because of who he was in public, but because of these private moments we shared. Our history forged a bond so deep that time was unable to disintegrate it. I couldn’t exactly attribute that as a benefit as it could also be a hindrance. We should have moved on, but here we were.

  Curling my head into his neck, I stifled every moan and cry. Shaking subtly, I responded to his caresses. As I finished, he pulled his hand away from my body and immediately brought his fingers to his mouth and licked the wetness off. The waiter came not a moment later and asked how our dessert was.

  “It’s perfect, always is.” Hunter chuckled quietly.

  I blushed at Hunter’s comment, yet smiled all the same. He was just as ornery as I.

  “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” I turned and giggled while breaking the crust of the crème brulee with a spoon.

  “I was really waiting for this. The rest is just passing time.”

  The ride back to the stadium was quiet and comfortable. The sheer bliss made me lethargic in his arms. I knew the night was only beginning, yet I savored the bubble Chicago seemed to shelter us in. Upon opening the doors in the parking garage, we could see that the festival was in full swing as the thunderous bass penetrated the concrete layers.

  “Are you ready for this?” Hunter asked, appearing somewhat concerned. I brushed my hand across his neck and pulled him in for a chaste kiss.

  “Of course, dahhhhling, let’s do this!”

  Before I was thrilled to be here; now I was downright ecstatic. In addition to watching Hunter perform, I was able to see one of my favorite bands from long ago.

  Twilight Sleep was synonymous with Cincinnati drum and bass. The live instrumental group took the music to incredible heights, and the members were by far the most eclectic yet lovable group of guys I have ever encountered. When Hunter was booked alongside them, I would always slip away to watch them play and made a special effort to attend shows whenever possible. Composing such a rapid rhythm on a computer and drum machine was child’s play compared to what they did in real time. Every song was groundbreaking and never failed to make me jump into the sky.

  Looking out into the crowd, I saw an entirely new generation following in our footsteps. It did not make me feel old but bred a sense of hope. Our upbringing was far from idyllic; it was the culture that carried us through the trials. Now here we stood, the select few that got that break and snatched it out of opportunity’s reach without question.

  Hunter’s fingers snapped and his head bounced in rhythm with mine. A small twinge of jealousy flowed through me, knowing this is what he got to do as a career while I was holed up in a small studio apartment glued to a computer. I never saw my fans outside of intimate signings and social media contacts. Here, they were all in one place. I could not fathom a giant book reading with over one hundred thousand people listening to me as I read lines from my latest tome. The only way to describe it was electric.

  Hunter was up next and got behind the band in preparation to take over the turntables. It was actually an entirely different set up, switched by the audio crew, yet all a part of the same gear so it appeared fluid and minimized interruption. When the set ended, Andrew the percussionist came over to Hunter and shook hands while giving the “bro hug.” Turning to me, his eyes grew wide with surprise, and he picked me up into a giant hug and kiss on the cheek before walking off the stage. It was completely innocent, yet my heart did a slight flutter as Hunter shook his head, laughing. Fanning myself off, I turned to walk to a more inconspicuous place, yet Hunter grabbed my arm and dragged me onstage with him. Horrified, I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

  “What are you doing?”

  He smiled mischievously while picking up the microphone without letting go. Greeting a screaming crowd, I was thankful for the earplugs protecting my ears. Pyrotechnic displays lit up all around as the heat from the lights behind us warmed my skin even more in the summer humidity. Looking at me with adoration, the crowd was charged and restless.

  “I have a very special lady here tonight that is going to help me open up. Back in the day, she used to help me write songs and even lent her voice to a few. Some of you may know her as bestselling author Lila Keaton, so give it up for her as we take you back with a little old school.”

  The crowd roared as my eyes widened. I looked
out at the sea of people and stood frozen. This was not happening. This was worse than the dinner a few nights ago. Why he was doing this to me, I had no idea, but I felt there was no escape. Before I could run, Hunter placed the needle down on the record and synth notes filled the air. I closed my eyes tightly to fight the tears, yet they poured out as fast as the snares coming from the sound system. When the bass started thumping, my arm went into the air, invisibly hammering down with a fist. Back and forth, my shoulders moved while my knees bounced and hips shimmied. Hunter knew what he was doing. He knew I could not resist this. I knew this song almost as well as I knew his body. I wrote it.

  With a slight cough and deep breath, the cool metal of the microphone touched my trembling lips as I waited for the right measure in the track. The noise of the crowd collided against the driving bass with such force, my soul wanted to burst it was so beautiful. Eighties style mash-ups were my absolute favorite, and right now I couldn’t believe this was really happening. My eyes stayed shut; if I opened them, I would panic and lose my confidence. In this moment, it was the music and me—nothing else existed. Tapping my hand against my thigh and my toes against the ground, it was all or nothing.

  You like your girls a little dirty-dontcha, dontcha

  You like your girls a little flirty-dontcha, dontcha

  You like your girls a little wild, girls on fire

  Dontcha, dontcha—but not too much

  Well baby let me tell you that you’re in luck

  I might seem like an angel but I like to Ohhhhh . . .

  Dontcha make me wait . . .

  Dontcha make me wait . . .

  Dontcha know I’m ready?