At This Moment

by Karen Cimms

  “Just a minute.”

  Billy sat in front of the TV with the sound off, changing strings and tuning his guitars.

  “It’s for you.”

  He looked up from his Stratocaster. “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know. Do you want me to ask her?”

  His expression darkened. She’d tried to keep the jealousy out of her voice, but clearly hadn’t succeeded.

  Although she wasn’t eavesdropping, it was such a small apartment, it was difficult not to overhear their conversation, including Billy’s laughter and “my girlfriend probably wouldn’t like that.” It felt good to know he referred to her as his girlfriend, but she couldn’t help wondering what the woman had proposed.

  He wasn’t about to tell, either. When he returned, he sat down, picked up his acoustic, and began snipping the strings.

  The phone rang again a few minutes later.

  “Would you rather I not answer that?” she asked.

  “Why wouldn’t I want you to answer the phone?” he asked pointedly. “You live here now, don’t you?” He went back to his strings, while Kate headed for the kitchen.

  It turned out that Toni had been able to track down someone who knew someone who knew a janitor with a key. He would let Toni into the building on Monday to pack Kate’s things. Then she would stash them in a friend’s room until Kate could pick them up.

  When Billy finished changing his strings, she gave him an update.

  “So the only problem right now is I don’t have anything to wear tonight. How dressy is this place?”

  “Not dressy. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Besides, you’d look good in anything.”

  It was the nicest thing he’d said since she’d gotten there.

  He set the acoustic in its case and snapped it shut. “It’s going to be a long night. If I were you, I’d just worry about being comfortable.”

  He had to be kidding. “We’ve been together six weeks. I’m not ready to dress for comfort yet.”

  “You know what I mean.” He stood. “Since we don’t have to leave for a couple hours, I think I’m gonna take a nap.”

  Kate nodded and settled in on the couch. MTV was counting down the top music videos of the year, although without the sound, it seemed rather pointless.

  Billy gave her a strange look, then snapped off the TV, took her hand, and helped her to her feet. “I said I was gonna take a nap.” Slipping his hands under her sweater, he kissed her just below the ear. “Don’t you want to take a nap?”

  “Oh. That kind of nap.”

  “Yeah, that kind of nap. You’re pretty smart for a college dropout.”

  She winced.

  “Too soon?”

  “A bit, yeah.”

  Walking backwards, he pulled her toward the bedroom. “Sorry. Let’s see if I can make it up to you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  They checked into the motel, then headed to the club for setup and sound checks.

  There was just one not-so-minor problem.

  “Are you kidding me?” Kate wrung her hands and paced in short circles, stopping in front of Billy. “No way!”

  “You can do this,” he assured her.

  “I get nervous singing in the shower. I sure as hell can’t sing in front of all those people!”

  “It’s either this, or you wait in the van all night—and it’s gonna be a long night, because we play until three.”

  She resumed pacing the dressing room, stopping when she caught Pete mid-snicker. “I bet he had something to do with this.”

  “He better hope he had nothing to do with it.” Billy gave him a murderous look, and Pete raised his hands to proclaim his innocence. She wasn’t buying it.

  “Please don’t make me do this.” She wove her fingers between the buttons of Billy’s shirt and tugged. The greasy cheeseburger she’d downed in the car turned to lead in her stomach, and she wouldn’t have been at all surprised if it decided to suddenly reappear.

  “It’ll be okay.” He coiled a strand of her hair between his fingers. “I promise.”

  Denny, the new drummer, entered the dressing room and handed her a tambourine. “Here you go.”

  “I don’t know what to do with this!” The tambourine rattled as she thrust it out in front of her.

  “Perfect,” Billy said, lowering her arm. “Just like that.”

  “Please.” She was practically whimpering. “I can’t do this. I’ll be so nervous I’ll pee my pants.”

  “Look.” He leaned closer. “I’ll give you a little something to take the edge off so you won’t be so scared, okay?”

  She shook her head.

  “That’s the only way. Since you’re under twenty-one, you can’t be in the club unless you’re in the band. They think you’re in the band, so you have to get on that stage and make like you’re in the band, or you’ll ring in the New Year with the seagulls on the boardwalk.”

  She folded her arms and frowned. “What’re you gonna give me?”

  “Nothing strong. Just a little downer. It’ll relax you.”

  She didn’t want to take any kind of drug, but she didn’t want to wait in the van, either. The only other option was to go back to the motel and spend New Year’s Eve alone.

  “Okay, but if I wet myself . . .” She was only half-kidding.

  “I’ll clean it up. I’ve done worse.” He set down his beer and reached into the bag where he kept his microphone and guitar cords.

  “Wait!” She grabbed Billy’s arm. “I’m not really dressed appropriately, am I? Someone told me to be comfortable.”

  Judging by the look on his face, he didn’t think her sweater and jeans would work, either.

  “I’ll trade outfits with you,” Pete’s date volunteered. Kate and Delilah were about the same size, although Delilah was a little taller and had a set of breasts on her that could stop traffic. So essentially, they weren’t the same size at all. Billy had also said she was a stripper, and she sure as hell wasn’t wearing anything Kate would’ve chosen for herself.

  If she was panicking before, she was about to go into full-blown apoplexy.

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “I don’t mind. Besides, I’m freezing. C’mon.”

  Delilah grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the bathroom. Kate shot Billy a desperate look.

  “What the fuck?” Pete yelled. “Don’t do that! I like the way you look.”

  “You’ll like me just as much in a turtleneck.”

  “I doubt it,” Pete muttered as the bathroom door closed.

  Kate wasn’t sure which was worse: having to strip down to nothing but her underwear in front of a perfect stranger, or having to step out of the bathroom wearing Delilah’s dress. Since spending the night in the bathroom wasn’t an option, she took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

  Billy whistled when he saw her.

  Delilah, who was currently stretching the front of Kate’s sweater out so much she’d never be able to wear it again, gave her the thumbs up. “Knock ’em dead!” she called before heading out the door.

  The band was already warming up onstage.

  “Please don’t make me do this.” Kate was shivering uncontrollably, either from the skimpy outfit or fear, although it was probably a combination of both. Delilah’s dress had no back or sides. The front, which was little more than a strip of fabric draped around the neck, was attached to the waist with a large rhinestone sunburst. If she moved too far to one side or the other, she was certain one of her breasts would pop out. “How am I supposed to bang on a tambourine without exposing myself?”

  “First of all, I don’t want you to bang on it. Just tap it lightly. Denny set up a microphone right behind me.” He winked. “I’ve always wanted a backup singer.”

  She gave him a hard look, which he chose to ignore.

  “Now, take this.” He handed her half of a small white tablet.

  “You expect me to get up in front of hundreds of people
with my boobs hanging out on aspirin?”

  “It’s not aspirin.” He handed her his beer. “Just take it. Hurry up.”

  “You sure half is enough?”

  “For you?” He snorted. “Plenty.” He swallowed the other half.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s like a tranquilizer, but more fun.”

  “Why’d you take it? You nervous?”

  He laughed and took her hand. “No, I just don’t like to be left out. Ready?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  Kate was beginning to relax. When she started rocking back and forth like Stevie Wonder, Billy commandeered a stool for her to sit on. He also rearranged the set list with several songs in a row where her tambourine and vocal skills, such as they were, weren’t needed, then handed her off to Delilah, who ushered her to the band’s table.

  “You’re doing great!” Delilah crowed. “You’re a natural.”

  “What a rush! I’m still scared, but I don’t really care.”

  Delilah gave her a squeeze. “I couldn’t do it—although I gotta tell ya, if Billy told me to crawl on my hands and knees through broken glass and bark like a dog, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  What? “Why would he do that?”

  “Oh my God,” Delilah glanced at the girls who’d come with Denny and Steve. “This girl’s a hoot.” She leaned in closer. “So what’s he like?”

  Kate shrugged. “Like?”

  “In bed, silly. What’s he like in bed?”

  Although not much was bothering her at the moment, Kate could feel the familiar warmth creeping up her neck. Not so much from Delilah’s question, which was really none of her business, but from the long, slow look she gave Billy as he fingered Jimmy Page’s iconic riff. “I bet he likes it rough,” Delilah shouted.

  Billy was lost in “Whole Lotta Love.” The hair on her skin stood up as she watched him. Eyes closed, head thrown back, he coaxed the notes from his guitar, and they fell over her like a shower of sparks. Her body vibrated along with the strings of the Strat. Billy played guitar with the same intensity he played her.

  As the last strains of the repetitive rhythm faded with whatever was left of her inhibitions, she climbed clumsily onto the stage and threw her arms around his neck. He swung the guitar to his side and pulled her closer. His hands burning against her bare skin, he kissed her as if they were alone.

  “I need you to fuck me,” she whispered, catching his earlobe with her teeth, before stumbling to her place on the stool behind him.

  A few minutes before midnight, Billy jumped off the stage. “You get this,” he called to Pete. “You owe me.” He reached up and grabbed Kate around the waist, stole a bottle of champagne from a passing waitress, and led her backstage.

  Slamming the door to the dressing room, he pushed her up against the wall, hiked up her skirt, and tore off her panties with one hard yank. She fumbled with his belt and while she tugged at his pants, his fingers found their way inside her. Her head rolled back as he planted open-mouthed kisses along the curve of her neck.

  With the edges of her vision growing dim, he lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. Cold cinderblocks scraped her bare flesh. In the distance, she heard fireworks amid shouts and cheers. They were coming from inside her head, or the New Year had arrived. Either way was fine with her. The revelry continued as Billy carried her to the couch, where they collapsed onto the stained, dingy cushions. Not quite finished with him, she slid to the floor between his legs, but when he realized what she was about to do, he lifted her back onto the couch.

  “Stop, Katie, stop,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “I don’t ever wanna see you kneeling on the floor backstage, ever.” He closed his eyes and leaned back. After a few seconds, he looked at her again. “Promise.”

  “You love that.” She reached for him again.

  “Not here,” he insisted. “Not that. You understand?”

  She nodded, although it made no sense, especially after what they’d just done.

  “I love you,” he said. “You’re not a groupie. Don’t act like one.” He laced his fingers in her hair. Cradling the back of her head, he circled his arms around her. The kiss was gentle this time, very much unlike the rough, demanding way he’d kissed her minutes earlier. Then he raised the bottle of champagne to his lips.

  “Happy New Year, baby.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The kitchen was a disaster. Salad greens soaked in the sink. Ribbons of bright orange lay next to a handful of half-peeled carrots. Steam escaped from beneath a rattling lid on the narrow stove. Dirty dishes were piled on every available surface.

  Judging from the look of things, the mouthwatering aroma was coming from his own kitchen.

  “You can cook?”

  “I’m trying,” Kate said, sliding her hands into a pair of oven mitts. “I got the recipe from Mrs. Adelman. Smells good, doesn’t it?”

  “Who the hell is Mrs. Adelman?”

  “Your neighbor.” She looked up, surprised. “Across the hall? Don’t you know your neighbors?”

  “Nope. Not interested in any neighbors. I don’t like people knowing my business.” He grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from a wire rack where Kate had set them to cool.

  “Saying hello and learning people’s names isn’t the same as someone knowing your business.” She slid the roasting pan out of the oven. Drops of juice sizzled as she basted the fat, brown bird.

  Wait a minute. I don’t own a roasting pan.

  She returned the chicken to the oven. “What do you have to hide anyway?”

  “Nothing.” He pushed aside her hair and planted several kisses along her shoulder, pausing to nip her ear. “So you’re beautiful, a great fuck, and you can cook?”

  “You’re a real sweet-talker, you know?”

  “I try. Speaking of which.” He reached under her sweater and unhooked her bra. “When are your friends getting here?”

  “About half an hour. Hook me back up. I’m not finished.”

  “Sorry.” He snapped off the heat under the potatoes and led her toward the bedroom. “I haven’t seen you since this morning. You don’t want me to carry you off in the middle of dinner, do you?” He cocked an eyebrow, as if that was a real possibility. “Now take everything off except those oven mitts. You’re sexy when you cook.”

  She laughed. “You’re insatiable. What did you do before I moved in?”

  “I took lots of cold showers. Because of you, I leave drought conditions wherever I go.”

  She beamed. “Good answer.”

  He kicked his jeans across the room. “For you, maybe. For the environment, not so much.”

  “Honestly, how’re you doing?” Toni asked after dinner. Eric, her new boyfriend, drove a Suburban, so Toni had offered to deliver Kate’s things from the dorm. As a thank-you, Kate had invited them to stay for dinner.

  “It’s kind of like becoming a grownup overnight.” Kate felt a wave of sadness but pushed past it. “But it’s okay. Besides, I’m in love.”

  Toni looked skeptical. “Love or lust?”

  Color rose in Kate’s cheeks as she recalled what happened minutes before they arrived. “Definitely both.”

  “What about school?”

  Kate pulled four mismatched dishes from the cabinet and arranged them on an aluminum tray she’d found at a secondhand shop. “Maybe I’ll take a class during the summer. But if I do, I wouldn’t be able to travel with the band, so probably not right away.”

  Toni’s face turned sour. “So you’re a groupie now?”

  “No. I’m just saying, given the choice, I’d rather be with Billy on the road than alone here.”

  She watched as her former roommate surveyed the small kitchen: a refrigerator that was shorter and older than they were, a tiny stove, white metal cabinets, padded chairs and a Formica table that was so old she wasn’t sure if it was campy or simply a relic. The only bright spots of color came from a few yards
of discount fabric she’d used to cover the open pantry and to make a curtain for the window that looked out onto the dismal courtyard.

  “I guess.” Toni rolled her eyes. “But I love what you’ve done with the place.” She snatched a cookie off the counter and headed into the other room to join the guys while Kate finished assembling dessert: ice cream sandwiches made with homemade chocolate chip cookies.

  As she pressed the last cookie into place, Kate could hear Billy laughing and talking. He’d hardly said a word during dinner, but now he seemed animated and friendly.

  Other than that disastrous dinner with her parents, the only time she’d seen him interact with other people was with his band. He couldn’t be socially awkward. He had no problem climbing onto a stage and charming an audience. Then again, there’d been that time with Joey—although to be fair, they disliked each other equally.

  She wondered if the scent of marijuana mixing with the leftover aroma of roast chicken was responsible for his sudden gregariousness, but as she stepped into the living room, she could see there was more to it—much more.

  His head bent over a mirror on the weight bench, Billy finished a line of coke. She’d never seen anyone snort cocaine. It was like walking in on someone with his hand down his pants, a copy of Hustler in his lap. She wanted to go back to the kitchen with her stupid ice cream sandwiches, but she was rooted to the cheap carpet.

  Billy smiled when he saw her. “Hey babe.” He held out a rolled up dollar bill. “C’mon. Your turn.”

  She stared at the mirror—three neat white lines and a razor blade—while she tried to work out what to say.

  “Um . . . I don’t think so.” Ice cream was dripping over the edge of a cookie. They really should eat them now.

  “C’mon, Kate,” Toni said. “It’s no biggie. Just do a line.”

  The longer she stood, the heavier the tray became. She set it down at the end of the bench and knelt beside Billy. “I’ve never done this before.”

  He laughed, and she shot him a pained look. No wonder his mood had changed; he was stoned.