Aaron stopped and took a swig from a bottle of bourbon. He placed his guitar down, picked up his notebook, and began to pace the room.
Lily sidled back to his front door but hesitated before ringing the doorbell. Maybe he wanted to spend the night alone. She didn’t want to pull Aaron out of his creative zone. But she also didn’t want him to become the town recluse and feel left out. If Aaron was so keen on creating a new, normal life for himself, then he needed to leave the little comfort bubble that he’d created. Maybe he would make good friends with Danny, Lily thought. They could relate to one another. They were both retired, rich, and successful.
She rang the doorbell and waited. After a minute, Aaron answered, still topless.
“What is it?” he asked.
His thick chest was distracting; Lily had to strain to keep her eyes up, and not down at his chiselled pecs or his rippling abs. He was glistening, having worked up a sweat from his extended basement performance.
Lily’s mind drew a blank. “I was, um, wondering if you were coming out to Danny’s big welcoming party tonight.”
“I don’t think I was invited.”
“Everyone’s invited. It was in the paper.” As she said it, she noticed the pile of newspapers poking out from the snow, untouched. “Um, everyone will be there. I think it should be a lot of fun.”
“Sounds loud. Besides, I don’t know Danny, or anyone there for that matter.”
“You can meet Danny, and get to know everyone. They’re all very nice.”
“I’m sure they are. But I’m busy tonight, so I can’t, unfortunately.” Aaron started to slowly close the door, but Lily stopped it with her foot.
“Busy with what?” she asked with a big, naïve smile.
Aaron tried to think on his feet. He’d backed himself into a corner. He couldn’t tell her he was writing new material. Not only because he didn’t want word to get out, but also because he didn’t want her to start asking questions, wanting to hear his new songs, giving her unsolicited input, thinking she was in on a secret and that she was officially his close friend. He liked Lily, but any reasonable human could see her potential for becoming a crazed stalker.
But if he didn’t tell her about the new music, he had no excuse. He was standing topless, alone in his new house on a Saturday night, in a town where he knew nobody and nothing. Even he knew it was painfully obvious that he had no real plans.
So he simply said, “Stuff.” It was a conveniently vague excuse that meant, whatever he was doing was personal, maybe something sensitive like family matters. He didn’t realize that, in reality, he just sounded like a dismissive asshole.
Lily’s smile disappeared. The message was clear enough. Aaron didn’t want anything to do with her. Her screw-up wasn’t something Aaron was going to forgive anytime soon. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I hope you have a good night.”
Seeing the heartbreak on her fragile, pretty face, brought back that familiar guilt. The poor girl was just trying to help him get to know the town. “Okay, fine,” Aaron said. “I’ll go.”
Seeing Lily’s eyes light up made the guilt vanish. He had a lifetime to sit around and write music—that could wait. Plus, he liked the idea of going to a party where he wasn’t the center of attention, even if it was a redneck football party at some dirty trucker bar.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
By the time Lily and Aaron arrived at the bar, it was already packed. All of the tables and booths were taken, along with most of the standing room. Looking in from outside, Aaron hesitated. In Los Angeles, a bar that packed would have been shut down in a heartbeat. The police didn’t seem to care in Burns Bog. In fact, the town sheriff was actually at the party, standing eagerly with a marker and a soon-to-be autographed Danny Fitzpatrick #16 jersey. Aaron shook his head. Bunch of damned simpletons.
Everyone in the bar was wearing their #16 jersey. Including Aaron, who really didn’t want to, afraid it would make him look like a twat, like someone trying far too hard to fit in. Now, he was happy he wore the jersey, even if it was far too small for his body. Even though he had to be careful not to raise his arms too high and risk the jersey turning into a belly-shirt that a Broncos cheerleader would have worn, he blended in, and that was relief enough.
Lily’s jersey was far too big for her small stature, and made her look even more petite than she already was. It was a real jersey, unlike the ones the other girls in the bar were wearing; the glorified lingerie—tight, low-cut, lots of exposed skin—they didn’t look as sexy as they did cold.
As Aaron and Lily moved through the bar, towards an empty corner, Aaron overheard a conversation between a group of the scantily-dressed women. “You know he’s single, right?” one girl said.
“He’s cute,” said another.
“He’s kind of goofy-looking, but he’s cute.”
“You think he’s goofy-looking? I think he’s hot. He’s got that chiselled jaw, and those eyes.”
“You know he has, like, ten million dollars, right?”
“I heard he has more, from endorsements and stuff. The ten million was just his salary.” They were swooning over Danny Fitzpatrick, whom Aaron still hadn’t seen.
The conversation went on but the topic remained the same.
Aaron was curious. He’d seen the extravagant home, but he’d never seen this Danny character the town seemed to love so much. He’d met NFL stars before—players who were exponentially more famous than Danny Fitzpatrick—at parties and clubs in Los Angeles, but he never cared much for them. They were all big-headed, playboy wannabes, flaunting their money and pretending to be suave and manly, always kissing the backs of women’s hands and drinking expensive scotches they knew nothing about.
Lily approached an old man who was sitting at the bar by himself. “Hey Walt, is Danny here yet? I was hoping to introduce him to a friend of mine.”
“He hasn’t come yet as far as I know. I talked to your dad earlier today.”
“Did you? What did he say?”
Aaron slipped away from Lily and the old man to fetch the bartender. “What can I get you?” the busy bartender asked.
“A double of Jack and something girly.”
“This is the girliest we’ve got,” the bartender said, cracking open a can of Bud Light and placing it on the bar.
Aaron caught up with Lily and they continued towards the empty corner of the room.
“So you’re moving Danny into that big house down the street?” Aaron said.
“Yeah, it’s a big job. He has more stuff than you have, believe it or not.”
“I saw the house. Is it just him living there?”
“Yeah, as far as I know.”
Aaron shook his head. “That’s dumb. It’s such a waste.” Aaron had created a mental image of Danny Fitzpatrick in his mind. It was not a flattering image, eerily similar to Mr Peanut, with a monocle and a top hat.
“To be fair, your house is pretty big,” Lily said. “Before Danny’s, yours was the biggest job we’d ever had.”
“I agree. The place is too damn big. I only bought it for the basement. None of the other places around here even had basements.”
“They can’t, because of the bogs. They would just flood all the time. Your house is up on a hill.”
“All I’m saying is, it’s a waste. He’s going to be spending god-knows how much on heating the damned place. He’ll never use a quarter of the rooms. I mean, why in the hell does a man need an eight-car garage?”
“He has eight cars.”
“That’s demented. He’s going to go broke before the year’s out.”
Lily laughed. “He’s got ten million dollars. He’s the richest person ever to step foot in Burns Bog.”
Aaron laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” he said. Aaron knew better than to flaunt his money the way Danny was doing. When people know you have money, they suddenly become entitled to it. ‘Why should you have millions of dollars and I get nothing?’
they think. Aaron had close friends before he made it big. After his first big paycheque, everything fell apart. Everyone felt they’d earned a small piece, or that Aaron could easily spare a few grand. “I would do it for you,” they’d say. And when Aaron caved and gave them their small piece, they kept coming back for more. Relationships disintegrated. His own brother cut off contact when Aaron stopped sending cheques.
“I’m sure you were the same way, fifteen years ago,” Lily said, and she was right, which was exactly why he couldn’t help but laugh. At the height of his career, Aaron had far more than ten million dollars, and it didn’t take him long to blow through most of it. Even still, Aaron had more than ten million dollars to his name, but that was the last thing he was going to let anyone know.
When Danny showed up, everyone flocked towards him. Had they rushed in any faster, the bar would have tipped over onto its side. Aaron stayed back with Lily.
Danny was not the spitting image of Mr Peanut. He didn’t have a monocle, spats, a top hat, or a cane. He was just a normal-looking guy, with some facial scruff, a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and an old pair of jeans. Unlike the playboy-wannabe football stars Aaron had met in the past, Danny didn’t stand with his chest puffed out, and he didn’t kiss the back of every girl’s hand as he made his way towards the bar. He didn’t order a scotch from the top shelf, but instead a Budweiser without the glass.
Danny’s face became a darker and darker shade of red as townsperson after townsperson approached him for a congratulations and an autograph. Aaron wanted to hate the man, but it was difficult. Maybe he wasn’t like the others.
“Should I introduce you as Aaron or as Fred?” Lily asked, starting towards Danny and motioning for Aaron to follow
Suddenly, Aaron felt like a real asshole in his #16 Broncos jersey, which looked goddamned ridiculous the way it hugged his torso. “I’ll meet him another time. He looks busy,” he said.
“Don’t be silly. C’mon.”
“Let’s at least wait for that wrinkled-up old guy to finish chatting him up.”
“That’s my dad,” Lily said, and it was. Kilgore was sitting down next to Danny and the two were laughing like a couple of old best friends.
“Oh, sorry,” Aaron said, his face becoming red.
Strange, Lily thought. She hadn’t seen her father laugh in years—not since before her mother passed away, and even then, she couldn’t recall him ever being in such an uppity mood. Heck, it was strange enough that Kilgore was even at the party. He was never one for parties, get-togethers, or town gatherings.
Kilgore noticed Lily looking his way, so he waved her over. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Lily, have you met Mr Fitzpatrick? He was just telling me a story about his spot on the news this morning.”
Danny sprung to his feet. “Lily—we’ve met a few times now. I’m happy you made it out. I was really hoping you would.”
“Well, don’t let us interrupt your story,” Lily said with a smile.
“Oh, I was just telling your father, a lot of these morning shows play a song when you come on, and they usually let you pick the song beforehand. I asked for Never Back Down, by Nine Lashes, and they accidentally played Never Gonna Give You Up, by Rick Astley. An embarrassing introduction, to say the least.”
“They let you pick any song?” Lily asked.
“Yeah, as long as it’s clean for TV, they’re usually okay—” Danny’s attention was distracted by the bearded man in the tight football jersey, lingering behind Lily. “Hey guy. Can I help you?” he asked Aaron.
“Hi,” Aaron said with a small wave.
“Hi,” Danny replied as he forced a smile and tried to figure out which mental illness Aaron suffered from.
“Danny, this is my friend…” Lily turned to Aaron, unsure of how to introduce him.
“Fred,” Aaron said finally. “Fred Stein.”
“Hi Fred. Are you a big Broncos fan?” He spoke as if he was talking to a toddler in the dressing room after a game.
“Not so much. I’m not a big sports guy.”
“So what are you into then?” Danny asked.
Aaron shrugged. “I dunno. Music, I guess.”
“Do you play an instrument?”
Aaron shrugged again. “I dabble.”
“Oh. You know it’s open mic night. You should play a song for everyone.”
“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Stage fright? You know, the trick to getting over stage fright is to just put yourself up there. I remember the first time I ran out onto the CenturyLink Field in Seattle, in front of seventy thousand people. Terrifying. By my fifth game, the nerves were all gone.” Danny was completely oblivious to who he was talking to.
Aaron had not only performed at the CenturyLink Field when it first opened in 2002, but he’d performed the Super Bowl halftime show the year before. Aaron considered telling Danny all of these facts, but he resisted the urge, afraid of sounding big-headed—and afraid of revealing his identity. Besides, no one likes a showboater.
“Fred was actually very successful. He’s retired now, like you,” Lily said.
Danny put on a big smile and nodded. “Oh, that’s great. Good for you, Fred. That’s great.”
Maybe disliking the dismissive prick wasn’t going to be so hard after all, Aaron thought.
“Mr Fitzpatrick was just telling me about the time he’s spent in Los Angeles,” Kilgore said.
“You can call me, Danny, Mr Parker.”
“Well in that case, you can call me Gore.”
“Gore?” Lily said. Never in her life had she heard someone refer to her father by his first name—never mind ‘Gore.’ She felt an uneasy tingling in her gut. She could hardly recognize her own father.
“Your father tells me he’s moving to LA,” Danny said to Lily.
“Yeah. He told me the same thing.”
“It’s a beautiful city. I was thinking of moving there, myself. The beaches are to die for, and the food is where it’s at.”
No one noticed Aaron rolling his eyes. The food in Los Angeles was shit and the beaches were overpopulated with hobos, freaks, and fat-assed tourists. “What about the house you just bought here?” Aaron asked.
“Well, I thought about living here, but I’m young. I want to be where the action is, you know what I mean? The action is in LA, there’s no question about it. Maybe my house here can be my vacation house—like a summer getaway or something.”
Aaron’s eye roll didn’t go unnoticed this time. Danny narrowed his eyes, shrugged his shoulders, and laughed. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just—that’s a big, expensive house to keep as a summer home.”
Danny laughed. “Hardly.”
“That place must be worth at least a million.”
“Just under two million, actually.”
Aaron laughed. “It’s on a huge plot. The taxes aren’t going to be cheap. And not to mention you’ve got all your cars, and insurance on all of them. Now you’re thinking of buying a house in one of the most expensive cities in the world, and you don’t have any income. I’m just saying, maybe pick a place and stick with it.”
Now Danny was the one rolling his eyes. “It’s all relative. I can understand how that all sounds expensive to you, but it’s nothing to me. My salary isn’t a secret, you can find it with a quick Google search if you want to.”
“I’m not saying you didn’t make good money. I’m just saying be careful, is all. I have friends who went from having it all to having nothing. Are you investing any of your money? Do you have any sort of passive income?”
Danny bit down on his tongue so he wouldn’t break out into a fit of laughter in Aaron’s face. “I don’t think you understand, man. My net worth is over ten million.” He tried to hold back but failed. He started to laugh. “I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s just what you said. Passive income. Yeah, I have ten million dollars of passive income.” Danny clearly didn’t know what passive income was. “I don’t mean to be rude, but when you h
ave this kind of money, you don’t have to worry about taxes and insurance and all that crap.”
“Well, I have about thirty-six million and I used to have a lot more before taxes and insurance and all that crap. But like you said, it’s all relative.”
Danny’s laughter stopped. He looked at Lily. “What did you say your friend’s name was?”
“Fred Stein,” Aaron said.
“Fred Stein…” Danny said, racking his brain, staring at Aaron while trying to elicit a memory. He didn’t realize he actually owned Aaron’s Gunpowder Girls album when he was younger, just like every young adult in the late 90s and early 2000s. “And how in the world did you go about making thirty-six million dollars?”
Aaron shrugged. “Good investments.”
Kilgore turned to Danny. “I think all that Fred here is saying, is be careful with your money. That being said, I think you’re making all the right decisions—investing in real estate, exploring your options. They say real estate is the best and safest investment you can make.”
Aaron laughed. “Tell that to the people in Detroit.” No one else laughed.
“Lily, can I talk with you for a moment?” Kilgore asked, not waiting for a response before leading her away from Aaron and Danny.
Danny stared for a moment at Aaron. There was a familiarity about him, but Danny couldn’t place it. Burns Bog was a small town where everyone knew everyone. This Fred guy was probably just someone he’d seen around when he was growing up, Danny thought. But for some reason, that thought wasn’t enough to satisfy that strange familiarity. Maybe Fred was an old college friend, from the University of Chicago? Maybe they were best-friends back in high-school, and Danny had just forgotten? Whoever he was, that familiarity never left the back of Danny’s mind.
LIMELIGHT LOVE: A Small Town Rock Star Romance Page 7
