Falling for his ANGEL_A Rock Star Romance

by Megan Hetherington

  Three weeks in and they arrived in Austin, Texas. The crew had given them some insight into what was dubbed, ‘the live music capital of America’. Most of them having worked the venues many times before. There's a great atmosphere in Austin they were told. They were all looking forward to having some down time and checking out the music venues, but first they needed food.

  “What can I get ya’ll,” asked the gum chewing waitress. Retrieving her pencil from the knot of hair expertly pinned up on top of her head.

  The guys were flummoxed. The menu wasn’t like any they were used to so far with breakfast items mildly similar to the English ones. Not even, the not so English, but now familiar choices like grits or biscuit were calling out to them.

  “I could eat a scabby horse,” joked Jonny. The waitress wrinkled up her nose in disgust probably not having heard the English colloquialism before.

  “Breakfast taco and Pepsi,” said Joe confidently, slapping the table to signify “and make it quick”.

  “What the hell is it?” asked Simon scanning the plastic wrapped menu card.

  “Dunno, but it has breakfast in the title.”

  “OK, I’ll have that too,” Simon added.

  They all chose the tacos. Their first experience of Mexican inspired Texan food. For breakfast.

  Afterwards they wandered around town, checking on the shops and sussing out some of the bars and clubs for after the show. They sauntered into record shops full of country and rock music. Trying out the music booths, where they were instructed to don head phones and listen to some of the American rock before purchasing it. They messed around in clothes shops, trying on some seriously expensive cowboy style boots and other attire the boys had only seen in Western films. Other customers not understanding why they were rolling around on the floor laughing at their images in the mirror. They nervously looked through the windows of gun shops. Wondering where you would start with such an array of fire arms.

  They arrived at the venue later that afternoon, where some fans were already congregating outside. Spotting a couple of them wearing Crash US Tour t-shirts made them do a double take. Their ego stroked, they went through to the backstage area with a spring in their step.

  There were four bands on that night and Crash, as the newcomers, were on first.

  They were encouraged to stay until the end of the headliner act but Jonny was keen to get away from the rest of the guys. He hung around to watch Karma Life, of course, and as their set came to a close he re-positioned himself in the corridor near the shared dressing room. He was going to be brave tonight. He had decided. Recognising their finale drum roll, at the end of their last song “Hollow”, he lit a cigarette and nervously ran his fingers through his hair. Backing his foot up against the wall in an effort to look like he was just hanging around and not waiting for anyone in particular.

  Karma Life rushed off stage and into sight.

  “Good set?” Jonny asked as they ran by.

  “Yeah, we’re all buzzing.” Eliza was out of breath. “Crowd were really good.” She stopped in front of him. “We’re going out tonight if you want to come along?”

  Well that was easier than he thought.

  “Yeah, why not?” Casually following them into the dressing room.

  Dirk opened a bottle of Bourbon and put the neck to his lips, taking a couple of gulps before offering it to Kurt, who stopped putting his guitar into its hard travelling case to take it from him.

  Eliza stood in front of the mirror, wiping the glittery stage make up off with cotton wool pads, before preceding to pull her dress off over her head. With her back to everyone this might have been a slight tease but Jonny wasn’t looking at her back. He was looking into the mirror. Feeling his cheeks burn, he swiftly turned away to protect the modesty she obviously didn’t have, just in time to take hold of the communal bottle Kurt was offering him.

  “Cheers mate.”

  Taking a long swig and enjoying the heat in his throat as an interlude before building up to his next action - offering the bottle to Eliza.

  “Eliza?” Letting out a warning he was about to turn around to her and hoping he had left enough time for her to have re-clothed herself.

  She had. She was fastening the buckles on her biker boots. A deliciously long leg aloft on the chair arm. The repose revealing a three foot long coloured tattoo from the bottom of her cut off denim shorts to the middle of her calf. It depicted an Egyptian princess type figure with a tall head-dress, hands together in prayer and long elegant limbs. An asp wound around the delicate feet of the figure and up the calves.

  Jonny had never seen a tattoo as detailed or as beautiful before. The tattoo parlours in London produced only crude designs. Green swallows in between the thumb and forefingers or “LOVE” and “HATE” on knuckles and other such depictions which looked more like self-harm than art. Understandably, women rarely had tattoos back home.

  “Nice tat!” Reaching out with the bottle of bourbon.

  “Thanks. Have you got any?” She took a small swig and gave it back to Dirk.

  “No, not yet.”

  “So you fancy getting some ink then Jonny?” Kurt put the lid back on the Bourbon.

  “Yeah. Don’t know what or where though?”

  “You’re pretty ripped,” Dirk added, nodding slowly with a wry grin that sent a nervous shiver up Jonny’s spine. “I’d say you could have one done anywhere on your fine body.”

  Eliza laughed and shook her head at Dirk before turning to Jonny. “Don’t mind him. There’s a seriously good artist in San Francisco. I can sort something out for you when we’re there if you like.”

  “Great, sounds good.” Jonny nodded, feeling Dirk’s lingering stare on him.

  They headed out of the venue in search of the town centre, where they were promised by the crew there would be plenty of action.

  Simon was coming out of the mens’ room when he spotted them all leaving together. “Where you off?”

  “Huh?” Jonny had a mind to ignore him but decided to answer with as few words as possible instead.

  “You not hanging out with your own band tonight?”

  Jonny just shrugged.

  Simon half turned. “Tosser!” He spat on the floor to highlight his distaste.

  Jonny inwardly laughed. He had got to Simon and, as much as he knew it was petty, he quite liked making him simmer.

  There was a plentiful choice of bars. Jonny and Karma Life were now in their second. It was packed out. The make shift dance floor, although merely a space between the bar stools and the diner style booths, was full of couples dancing energetically to the blues music. Beyond the dance floor there were some small tables placed directly in front of the elevated stage.

  They managed to bag one of the tables and a waiter immediately came to take their drinks order. Returning with a bucket full of bottled beers and a clean ashtray. He took a bottle opener from his pocket and strung it to the handle on the bucket. Piercing the bill to a spike set in a horseshoe nailed to the table.

  The dancers stopped when the music halted and clapped with appreciation. The singer, a forty something guy, wore a Stetson and open necked checked shirt. An oversized silver cross set tight against his larynx helped contribute to the gravelly voice he conjured up so well. He dragged a stool from the side of the stage across to the centre and dropped the height on the microphone stand.

  “Time to slow it down a bit,” he drawled.

  Draping the leather strap on his acoustic guitar over his shoulder, he sat down on the stool. Strumming out a couple of chords and adjusting the tuning keys before putting a harmonica to his lips and softly blowing out the first notes to “Heart of Gold” by Neil Young.

  Jonny relaxed back in his chair and looked around the room taking in the scene. Warm glow from the wall lights casting a hazy light through the slow moving clouds of cigarette smoke. Men and women swaying and gently nodding their heads to the music. It felt cosy, as if all was at peace with the world.

&nbs
p; The singer remained seated as he moved onto Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changing”. Eliza turned and smiled to him, singing along to the song.

  “And, here’s the last one for tonight you good people. Take care and God bless.” He adjusted his feet on the leg bar of the stool allowing him to rest the guitar comfortably upon his raised knee.

  There was nothing in the world that would have stopped Jonny from making his move as the first few notes played out of the next song. He stood up and offered his hand out to Eliza. The stars are definitely aligned tonight he thought as they moved as one to Eric Clapton’s love song, “You Look Wonderful Tonight”. He didn’t need any goofy chat up lines. He just let the music do the talking. Jonny loved the singer even more for milking the length of the song. His ego not wanting to give up the glory of the stage.

  Jonny and Eliza enjoying each other’s closeness for the first time. When it finally ended, they slowly parted looking into each other’s eyes before returning to their seats as if nothing had just happened, but with the silent recognition everything had. A physical connection had been made.

  The singer walked purposefully off the stage as if to say "my work here is done”.

  “Heading back?” Eliza looked across at Jonny before answering Kurt.

  “Jonny and I are gonna stay for another drink.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Dirk.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. You know me.”

  “Yeah I do.” Turning to Jonny, he gave him a warning. “You make sure she stays safe. These Americans carry guns remember.”

  “Don’t worry. She’s safe with me. I promise.”

  He assumed Dirk and Kurt were like older brothers to Eliza. Naturally protective and distrusting of any male admirers. So far he felt like they had welcomed him into their little family and he was relieved when they didn’t argue any further with Eliza.

  As soon as they left Jonny shifted his chair closer to Eliza. “Do you wanna stay here and get another drink, or go on somewhere else?”

  “I’m starving.” She rubbed her stomach. “I’m always starving after a gig. Let’s find somewhere to eat.”

  The nearest diner was two streets away. The neon sign was hard to miss. Flashing like a beacon to decision impaired, munchie driven, drunkards.

  Perusing the menu, Eliza sighed, “Oh it’s so hard to find decent vegetarian food anywhere.”

  The waitress impatiently standing over them seemed to have no desire to help with Eliza’s dilemma. “This ain’t no health food establishment.”

  “Quite.” Eliza screwed up her face. “OK, can I get loaded fries and a vanilla milk shake?”

  The waitress lifted her eyebrows slightly before turning her attention to Jonny who ordered their specialty foot long hotdog and root beer.

  When his meal arrived Jonny inwardly slapped himself. Wondering how the hell he was going to eat it and stay attractive? The hotdog was huge and covered in fried onion, cheese sauce and jalapeño peppers. Fuck it! He was hungry and it smelt fantastic. He tucked a napkin under his chin, picked the hotdog up with both hands and dived straight in. Watching a smile growing on Eliza’s face as she watched him devour the hotdog as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

  Grabbing her hair, she pulled it to one side, so she didn’t adorn it with food. She then delicately picked up one fry at a time, dipping it in the small carton of mayonnaise before biting small pieces off and licking her top lip. The one he wanted to lick.

  “Do you not eat meat at all?”

  “Not dead meat,” she replied with a serious look on her face. Then she ran her tongue around her lips before sticking it to the inside of her cheek. Pushing it out in the universal sign of fellatio. Laughing at her own joke.

  He looked at the hot dog, its pink flaccid meat suddenly looking very unattractive. He placed it down on its individual foot long paper tray.

  “Wasn’t hungry anyways,” he felt himself blushing so turned his attention to his drink.

  The sexual intimacy of their earlier dance had been replaced by a different type of one on one time. Jonny was determined not to be overwhelmed by her. She was confident, she had proved it on so many levels. He needed to relax and then get to know her.

  “So what’s your story?”

  “Nothing special. I grew up in Amsterdam, which is where I met Kurt and Dirk of course. We went to the same university and found we shared a similar interest in music. Then, after university, we decided to take the plunge and formed Karma Life. Started recording and touring around Europe about three years ago, then got this record deal and… here we are.”

  Wow! That makes her at least twenty-four. He cleared his constricted throat. So what? She was here with him now and he felt sure he looked quite old for his age. Not wanting to ask if she was indeed six or so years older than him, especially if it lead to him having to admit to his age.

  “And your family. You got any brothers or sisters?”

  She hesitated, sitting back on the bench. “No, I'm an only child. My parents were killed in a road accident when I was little, so no brothers or sisters.”

  "I'm sorry Eliza, I didn't mean to..."

  She shook her head and smiled, “It's fine. I was raised by my aunt and uncle.”

  Jonny couldn’t detect any pain or sorrow in her answer and words were not his forte. Expression came through his guitar and that was about it. All he could think to say was, “I’m sorry Eliza, it must have been awful.” Wishing he hadn’t asked about it in the first place.

  She simply shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “It’s ok, really. My aunt and uncle are lovely.”

  She shuffled on the seat and leaned in towards him. “Anyway my turn.” She obviously didn’t want to speak any more about her family tragedy. “So, Jonny. What happened to your girlfriend?”

  Wham! Straight in to the jugular. She doesn’t tip toe around stuff. At that moment the waitress returned to ask if they wanted refills on their drinks. It gave Jonny time to think of a considered response.

  “We’re not together anymore. She moved away and I’m here. On tour. Anyway what’s the saying, 'what happens on tour, stays on tour’. Right?” Hoping she didn’t probe further. He didn’t want to have to explain the whole possible pregnancy situation.

  “Right,” she agreed.

  She seemed to readily accept that he wasn’t with his girlfriend anymore. Jonny took advantage of a pause and jumped back in changing the subject to a lighter level.

  “So what are your musical influences?”

  “You sound like a music journo!” she laughed.

  He screwed up the muscles in his forehead. Still wanting an answer.

  So responding to his persistence, she answered in a fake interview-like voice; index finger placed below the corner of her mouth and eyes looking upwards as if she was searching for an answer from above. “I’m truly inspired by God.”

  Jonny pulled his chin into his neck in disbelief.

  She giggled. “No. Actually I’m an atheist and I like any type of music. Well when I say any it can’t be too 'poppie'. I don’t like some of the euro trash stuff, for instance. Synth guitars and the like. Heart and Fleetwood Mac are my go to bands when I want some inspiration. When we're touring I try and listen to local radio stations to see what they’re in to. They seem to play a lot of blues stuff around here. And then Dylan, Neil Young, Jonny Cash. I like all that. How about you?” She turned the question around to Jonny, pouting her lips around the straw on her milkshake and sucking up hard on the cream coloured thick liquid.

  Jonny’s mind went blank at the spectacle. “Sorry what did you say?”

  “I just asked what music you was in to?” she repeated in between sucks.

  “Oh yeah, sorry. Anything that has some good guitar in it. Hard rock mainly. You know, Guns and Roses, AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Motörhead that sort of thing.”

  “Have you seen any of them live?”

  “Yeah. I try to see bands whenever I can. I’ve seen all of them exce
pt Led Zeppelin. Living in London means I’ve been lucky enough to catch lots of great bands. Guns and Roses were awesome. Actually probably the best band I’ve seen so far. Their energy and sound is just outta this world. There's loads of great bands out there that haven't made it yet too. I used to work in a club in London and there are a lot of new and upcoming bands gigging there." He shuffled on his seat, pulling his fingers through his hair. "You know what I like best about seeing live bands? When you manage to get to the front at a gig and you get the feeling of the base and the drums thudding through your chest. It just feels part of you. Makes you feel so… so alive.”

  He could see she was studying his face. Watching him gesticulate. Biting on her top lip when he pulled his fingers through his hair. As if she was trying to work out what he was like as a person and the way he just spoke about music seemed to give her an answer. Perhaps it was the enthusiasm he conveyed when he spoke about it. Whatever it was, he could see she was hooked.

  “So do you prefer listening to music more than playing it?”

  He looked down at his food, wishing the waitress would clear it away. The congealing gloop on top of the hot dog was really starting to make him feel nauseous. “Yep, I probably do at the minute. Don’t get me wrong, I love playing guitar. I really do. It’s only right now, playing in Crash is… well shall we say… a tad tense. I still get a real buzz from being up on stage in front of a good crowd and smashing out one of our songs. But…well, it just ain’t right at the minute.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Dunno.”

  It was the first time he had confided in anyone about the way he felt about Crash. The guys didn’t talk about the rift that was growing between them. They couldn’t fall out mid tour, and a badly managed conversation could lead to that. Anyway, Jonny didn’t know really what the issue was. For him, Simon just got on his nerves and maybe that wasn’t something worth having a conversation about.