Stone: A Standalone Rock Star Romantic Comedy (Pandemic Sorrow)

by Stevie J. Cole

  “I don’t fucking care!” I point to the door. “Just go!”

  “Really? You’re going to do this?”

  “It’s the only thing I can do,” I whisper. A frown sets on his face. I can see hurt swimming in his eyes. “I just,” I exhale, “I just need to…think.”

  Glaring at me, he shakes his head. “This is ridiculous. I don’t have time for this bullshit.” And he turns around, grabbing the door, and yanking it open. He walks out holding his shirt and shoes and slams the door behind him.

  I stand in the middle of my living room, my chest growing tighter by the second. Anger and disgust crawl over me like an army of angry ants. My gaze shifts to the flowers on the table. I reach out for them, grab the vase, and chuck it across the room. Petals and water and shards of crystal fly all over the place. I fall onto the couch, my head spinning. What am I doing?

  Everything is tainted. I’m angry at myself, angry at Pam, angry at him. At fame. At life.

  He felt safe. Like something that could be mine, but I think I was wrong. Nothing in this world is can ever really be yours.

  29

  Stone

  My blood is boiling. The door to the elevators slide shut, and I drop my shoes to the floor so I can pull my shirt over my head. I shove my feet inside my boots. Swearing, I slam my palm against the smooth interior of the elevator. I get why she’s pissed. I get disgusted, but fuck, is she really going to end this over something I did before I ever met her? I bang my hand against the side of the elevator again and groan.

  The elevator doors slide open and I storm out through the lobby, shoving the entrance open.

  All this time, I did things without repercussion, thinking none of it would matter. I mean, shit, why would I think fucking some random woman would matter? That’s what guys do. And then, I finally realize what I need, what I want—Phoenix, and karma gives me a big old middle finger.

  I climb in my car and peel out of the parking lot, speeding down the street. It was stupid of me to think I could have a relationship with her.

  I laugh. A relationship. She’s right. It is pointless. I’ll go on tour. She’ll go on tour…. What is the point of being with someone you’ll never see? Relationships don’t work out in this industry of sex, drugs, and Rock and Roll. Being in love is not part of the fame monster because it has to be selfless, and you can’t be selfless if you want to be famous. You just can’t.

  _________

  It’s later in the day, and I’m sitting on Jag’s sofa staring at my phone while he’s cutting out lines on his coffee table.

  “Man, what’s wrong with you?” he asks.

  I don’t look up. “So, you remember the cougar in Miami?”

  “The one who went spelunking in your shit tunnel?” He laughs. “Yeah.”

  “Turns out, that was Phoenix’s mom.” I look up to catch his reaction.

  Jag slowly lifts his head, his eyes wide. “Fuck off.”

  I just stare at him.

  “Man,” he shakes his head. “You’re fucked! You stuck your magic wand in the thing she was birthed from. You’ve been inside the things she’s been inside.” Jag places his hands by his head pretends a tiny explosion goes off. “Pi-kaw. Mind blown. Does she know yet?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jag throws his hands in the air. “What? Why would you tell her that?”

  “I didn’t. Her mom just…showed up this morning and hinted around that we’d fucked.”

  “Man, she’s a bitch, huh?”

  “Jag, I need advice.”

  “About what? You fucked her mom. You’re toast, bro.”

  “Shit…” I wipe my hand down my face.

  “You sure you don’t want a line, man?” Jag asks, glancing up from the coffee table.

  “No.”

  I watch him lean over and inhale only leaving a small dusting over the glass. This is beyond recreational, this is a problem. A major problem. Again. “I thought you were only doing that shit to help with tours,” I say.

  He tosses his metal straw down and shrugs. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

  “I just don’t want to see you OD again. I don’t–”

  “Stone! I’m fine. I got this under control.” But I don’t think he does. Trying to figure out a way to get a point across to my brother without it backfiring is like playing Russian Roulette. There’s never a good way to get through to him unless he wants you to. He moves up to the couch and falls back in the seat. “Girls are more trouble than their worth, man. I’m telling you.” He sighs. “Damn, touring with Phoenix is going to be a clusterfuck now.”

  Touring is going to be a shitshow for sure. Having to travel with her, be around her. But then again, she’ll calm down. She’ll see she’s being unreasonable, because she is – isn’t she? “I mean,” I say, “she can’t be pissed at me for shit I did before her.”

  “She’s a girl. Of course she can.” He glances at me and cocks a brow.

  I drag my hand down my face, lean over my knees, and reach for my beer. “Fuck,” I mumble.

  “Ah, just give her a few days to get over it.”

  And I guess that’s all I can really do. Give her a few days to calm down. Apologize. Tell her I don’t want to lose what we have, because we do have something I’ve never experienced before. If she wants to walk away, then that’s on her. All I can do is try to make it right.

  30

  Phoenix

  Lauren sits with her legs pulled up on the couch across from me, her jaw dropped. “Wow.”

  I nod. “Yep. Welcome to my life.”

  “Pam?”

  I nod again.

  “I mean,” she sighs, “it’s not surprising. She fucks everyone. And it was before you.”

  “I know it was before me, but it’s just gross.”

  “I won’t argue that, but Phoenix, you like him. Kinda sorta love him. Is something like that worth losing him over?”

  I stare down at the floor thinking about how badly I need to mop it. Is it worth losing him over? That is the question I keep asking myself. “It’s just, I mean,” I push up from the couch and pace. “I could get over that. It’s gross, but whatever. The thing is, Lauren, I do care a lot about him. Too much.”

  “Why is it too much?”

  “Because it already hurts.”

  She frowns and reaches out, grabbing my hand and pulling me next to her on the couch. “If it didn’t hurt, then I’d say to let him go.”

  “It would never work out,” I say. “I know how these things go. And it’s not like Hollywood relationships are a secret, everyone knows the odds are not in your favor.”

  “But what if it did work out?” she asks.

  “I just feel lost, Lauren. I don’t want this,” I motion around my apartment. “I don’t want fame. I don’t want any of it.”

  She shrugs. “But you love music.”

  “I love music, but music and fame are not even in the same ballpark. I’d be happy singing karaoke in a shitty bar.”

  “Then why in the hell did you go for a label?”

  I push up from the couch again, huffing as I resume pacing. “Because it’s what I was supposed to do. I thought it was what I was supposed to do. I just, I got tired of floating around. I got tired of not having anything that was mine. And, I mean, what the hell else am I going to do? It’s sing and make money or be eternally tied to Pam.” I throw my head back on a groan.

  “You need to take a minute. Regroup. Don’t make any rash decisions. Don’t go all Brittney circa 2004 and shave your head or anything, okay?” She reaches over and twiddles her hair. “Please don’t shave your head. You’ve got great hair.”

  I swat her hand away from me and glare at her. “I’m not,” I say.

  “And just think about Stone, okay? Doesn’t matter who he is, or what he’s done, Phoenix. You two are not Hollywood, you don’t have to be. Voss, he was a shithead. He made you feel how shitheads make you feel – like shit. Stone, he seemed like a good guy, and good guys
tend to make you feel good. That’s all I’m saying, think about how he makes you feel. That’s all that matters because no one else will ever be him. So if you’re going to let him go, just remember that.”

  My phone dings. I grab it from the coffee table and pull up a text from James informing me I have an interview on the Meredith Grant Talk Show–with Pandemic Sorrow– the day after tomorrow. I groan.

  “What? Was that him?” Lauren asks.

  “No, James. I have an interview with Pandemic Sorrow scheduled on Thursday.” I toss my phone down. “This is why you don’t fuck people you work with and…” panic settles in my chest because I have to tour with those guys. “Oh god. I’ll be on tour with them. I’ll fuck him again. I know I will.”

  “So…”

  I shake my head. “I can’t be that girl. When shit’s over between me and a guy, I stay as far away from him as possible.”

  “Look, to be fair, you just had a massive bomb of shit explode in your face. You hold out to fuck a guy that you really like, then you find out your mom banged him before you…” she shrugs. “It’s not a simple thing here. Maybe just see how you feel when you see him?”

  I nod and settle back on the couch. “I’ll either want to stab him or kiss him.”

  “Or both,” Lauren says. “I mean could be kinky.”

  _________

  I spent the last two days agonizing over this moment. What would I do? What will I say? What will he say? He didn’t text me or call me after he left. Maybe he doesn’t even care. But, I’ve been here an hour and the only one of the guys I’ve seen is Rush, and he completely ignored me.

  Bernice, the very talkative makeup artist, sweeps some contour over my nose. “You have such wonderful bone structure. Who does it remind me of….” Her eyes widen. “Zeve Zevens. You look a lot like him.”

  I sink down in my chair a little. Rush is in the chair beside me hitting on the woman touching his face up. The girl doing his makeup giggles and the next thing you know, the two of them are disappearing. Bernice lifts a perfectly sculpted brow at me. “Rock stars, huh,” she tuts. “I don’t understand the appeal. They’re all sex fiends.” She brushes some powder over my face. “If I can give you any advice, stay as far away from them as you can.”

  “Oh don’t worry…” I say, watching as Stone and Jag finally strut into the room. Stone glances over at me before dropping his gaze to the floor. Jag nudges him and points at the host of the show, pretending to grope fake tits in front of his chest. Stone just shakes his head and walks off with Jag. And here I am, a storm of emotions swirling in my chest because I know I’m being a scared, immature shit over this entire thing, but how do you let yourself go head first into something you know is going to kill you?

  Jag comes sauntering back across the room. “I call dibs on that blonde,” he says to Stone.

  “Yeah.” Stone says, his eyes locked on me. “Okay.”

  “What?” Jag shoves him. “You’re not even going to rock, paper, scissors me over her? Man, what’s wrong with you? You always liked a blonde…”

  And this is why I don’t need to get involved with him. “Wow,” I mumble. I just can’t help myself.

  Jag turns around, narrowing his heavily lined eyes on me before thumbing under his nose. “Don’t tell me you don’t understand the value of settling who gets a piece of pussy over rock, paper, scissors?”

  Stone shakes his head and goes to walk off, but Jag grabs him by the arm. “Stone, how many times have we settled pussy arguments over rock, paper, scissors?”

  “I’m not doing this,” he snatches his arm away from Jag and walks up to me. “Still pissed at me?”

  “I’m indifferent.”

  He exhales. “Why don’t we go grab something to eat afterwards and talk.”

  I want to. God, I want to, but for some reason all I can do is say: “No thanks.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” I turn and walk off, my pulse going haywire. Why is this so difficult? Why do I make this so difficult? I glance across the room and he looks confused. Hurt. Shit. He’s not the kind of guy that hurts you, he’s not. My heart feels that but every bit of common sense inside of me is screaming that he’ll demolish me, and I don’t want to hate him. I don’t ever want him to show me that he’s the guy I originally assumed he was, because he’s given me the smallest amount of hope that not everyone is shitty.

  And I’m afraid the only way I can ensure I never have to hate him is if I just walk away from it right now, while all I can say is: he was a good guy.

  31

  Stone

  Phoenix is leaned against the far wall, scrolling through her phone. I swallow. I want to go talk to her, but the thing is, I refuse to be that guy. There was something there, something I have never felt for anyone else. It was natural and fucking perfect, but I’m not chasing her. If she can walk away that easily, it’s best shit never went further than it did.

  One of the TV crew comes rushing through the room with his clip board. “You guys are on in five minutes,” he says. “Where are the rest of your band?”

  “Probably getting their cocks sucked, if I had to guess,” Jag says.

  The man closes his eyes and inhales before pointing to a screen above the door to the live studio. “The light up there will flash green when you need to go on stage.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jag says, waving him off.

  Rush nearly runs into him when he comes strutting up, zipping his fly and grinning. “Nothing like an orgasm to get your shit flowing.”

  “Where’s Pax?” I ask.

  “Getting a blowjob,” Rush says, thumbing toward the dressing areas. “Some intern was a big fan or some shit. I told her she didn’t have to settle for the drummer, but she said she heard they were less likely to harbor the clap.” Laughing, he sinks onto the couch beside Jag.

  People from the TV station hustle and bustle around us, clipping mics on our shirts, dusting powder over our faces. Pax comes into the room, his pants still undone and hair in disarray. One of the women from the station immediately runs over to him, zips him up, untucks the other side of his shirt and runs a comb through his hair.

  The green light above the door flashes and we all stand and walk toward the doorway.

  “…so excited to have these guys here today,” Meredith says as we step out, “Pandemic Sorrow and a new artist, the singer from Blood Queen who is being featured on their upcoming single.”

  The audience goes nuts cheering and clapping. We strut across the stage like we own the damn world. Jag plops down on the white couch without as much as a “Hi”. Rush grabs Meredith’s hand and kisses over her knuckles. Pax waves to the audience before taking a seat. And that leaves two seats on the other sofa. One for me. One for Phoenix.

  She sits down, and I fall right next to her, my thigh brushing hers. “Could you not…” she whispers, snatching her leg away from me. There are a few snickers from the audience. I scowl at her and scoot over half an inch.

  The host glances nervously at us. I just smile, silently cussing at Phoenix in my head.

  “So…” Meredith says, “first I’m a huge fan.” We all say thanks– except Phoenix. “Why don’t you guys tell us a little about the collaboration. How did it come about?”

  And… crickets. We all stare at each other like a deer in headlights. “Um…” I clear my throat. “It uh…” Rush has his eyes locked on some blonde in the crowd. Pax is just staring off into space. And Jag… fuck, he’s smirking. Shit, I have to say something quick: “Our uh, record label thought that–”

  “You want the truth, Meredith?” Jag asks. “Our label forced us to do it. Just glad it’s over.”

  Phoenix exhales loudly next to me. I glance over at Meredith and she’s trying to force a smile.

  “Charity, I guess.” Jag glances at Phoenix and winks. “Right, princess? I mean, it’s not like your step dad owns the label or anything.” He rolls his eyes. “Unbelievable.”

  “Okay…” Meredith says
.

  Phoenix leans over me and points in Jag’s face. “You’re such a dick,” she says, literally hissing the words.

  Rush laughs.

  “She’s uh,” I say, sweat pricking over my forehead. “She’s a really talented singer and I think Blood Queen is going to really–”

  “Ah, don’t listen to him,” Jag says. “He fucked her, so his opinion doesn’t count.” His eyes are wild, pupils swollen. He’s high and there is no stopping this train. There are a few laughs, some cheers from the crowd.

  “Uh, um…” Meredith shifts uncomfortably in here seat. “We, uh, we’re on live TV, Jag, and um…”

  “Oh, right. Virgin ears.” He glances at the camera and smiles. “My apologies.”

  “You were saying Stone?” she tries to divert the attention away from my brother.

  “She’s a great singer.”

  “Dick gargler,” Rush coughs.

  There’s a low growl that bubbles from Phoenix’s chest.

  “Um, Phoenix,” Meredith asks, her voice shaking. “How did you like working with…” she pauses and breathes ‘oh shit’ under her breath… “How did you like working with these guys?”

  Phoenix grins. “Well, seeing as how I somehow escaped working with them without contracting a venereal disease or being drugged and gang banged, I’d say the work was better than I expected.”

  Meredith face palms. “I don’t know what to do,” she says as she glances at the cameraman.

  “God,” Jag groans and stands up, “You’d need to have a vagina worthy of our cocks to catch a disease from us. I wouldn’t touch your pussy with Rush’s dick! I tried to talk my brother out of shoving his man-meat in your angry cunt, but–”

  “Shut the fuck up, Jag!” I shout as I grab his arm and yank him down. He snatches his arm away. To be honest, I want to knock his teeth down his throat, but I can’t do that on live TV. Rush is laughing so hard he farts. The crowd’s laughing and Meredith is walking off stage although the cameramen are still recording. I just shrug at the camera.