Summer of Irreverence: The Rock Star (The New York Artists Series)

by Cathrine Goldstein

  “Great image for their next CD cover, don’t you think?” Summer giggled along with her, shaking her head. “It was quite something.”

  Jeanette turned her entire body to face Summer and smiled, her eyes sparkling. Summer was glad to see Jeanette happy, and glad she was able to share a giggle. Summer had to laugh at the absurdity of it all, because really, there was never a chance for a future together with Malcolm, anyway. Even if Malcolm knew the truth about her from the beginning, it would have to end sometime, right? Malcolm Angel is the world’s most confirmed bachelor. And no one, especially not Summer—a plain ol’ regular girl, a veterinary surgeon, better with animals than people—would ever change that.

  “So,” Jeanette prompted her. “What did the guys do?”

  “They were surprisingly helpful. I sent the young one, Eric…? You know him?”

  “Yeah.” Jeanette sipped her wine, enthralled.

  “I sent him back to the bus. He looked pretty green. But Jimmy’s a dad so he was solid.”

  “And…Malcolm?” Jeanette approached this carefully, twirling the wine in her glass and speaking through heavy lashes.

  “He…he was amazing.” Summer smiled. “He stood right by me. And when I didn’t have the physical strength to pull the calves from their mother, Malcolm did it for me.”

  “Wait…” Jeanette sat up on her knees. “Malcolm Angel delivered a calf?”

  “Two. And then he figured out I was a vet, and he had a cow.” Summer’s lips curled into a wry smile.

  “Holy crap.” Jeanette shook her head, giggling. “Guess people can surprise you, huh?”

  “Sometimes.” Summer began to slip away, sadness shrouding her. She wiped a tear. “So, uh, Jean, I think I let down womankind. I guess I’m not the one to get away from Malcolm Angel, unscathed.”

  Jeanette smiled sweetly. “Oh, Sum…” She wrapped her arm around Summer and pulled her near. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Summer just nodded and buried her head in Jeanette’s shoulder, crying.

  ****

  Summer wore dark glasses on the walk from the hotel to the hospital, hiding her puffy eyes and hangover from crying. It felt so good to be with Jeanette last night, and she was so grateful not to be alone in her hotel…because truthfully, she didn’t trust herself. She was terrified she would finally succumb and call Malcolm. All she needed was for him to ask, “Summer, who?” and depression would have rendered her immobile, for sure.

  With every step she took, her head pounded from too many repressed memories, aching to be set free. No. She forced her thoughts away and reached up to rub her pounding temples.

  “Headache?” Brad looked down at her as they walked.

  She shook her head, wanting to pretend Brad wasn’t there…and someone else was. But what did she think was going to happen? They would have a happily ever after? She could run a clinic in the middle of the country and tour the world with Malcolm? Not only was this dream incredibly, pathetically naïve, it also wasn’t plausible. The time commitment a clinic would demand would be constant; there wouldn’t be a spare moment for the luxury of a vacation, never mind running around the world with a rock star boyfriend. And what about this rock star boyfriend? Was he suddenly going to give up his nights with the world’s most beautiful women to be with her? Of course not. It was all ludicrous and impractical. She knew better than to be caught up in this schoolgirl silliness.

  Summer jammed her shoulders up to her ears, doing her best to ignore Brad’s constant jabbering about the horrors of the city. As she gazed around the city lovingly, she didn’t agree at all. Sure it had its gritty exterior and rough edges, but underneath it all…underneath…was magic.

  Tears pulled across her eyes as sweat began to gather between her breasts. Summer ran the back of her hand across her brow. Could she stand it? Could she handle being in New York without Malcolm, even for one minute more? Every turn, every street, every sound, every smell…reminded her of him. Of course it was completely irrational, but every few minutes she pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled down…checking…as if she expected Malcolm to magically know she was here. As if he would care… More importantly, where was he? Was he okay? Was Winston?

  Pound, pound, pound…Summer moved faster and faster, trying to avoid falling in step with Brad. Brad’s arm bumped hers, and she jerked away from him, her eyes narrowing into a hateful glare, a cold shiver tramping down her spine. She shook off her shiver, and felt the ache in her eyes. She didn’t want to be here with Brad—he was all wrong: foreign, cold, sterile, and empty. After spending a year and a half with this man, she now hated being with him, and truthfully, maybe she always did.

  Summer was so obsessed with her thoughts of Malcolm, she very nearly missed the entrance to the hospital.

  “Summer?” Brad held his arm out, showing her the way.

  She inhaled sharply and bit her lip. She nodded and walked into the building, with one final glance over her shoulder.

  ****

  In a quiet locker room, Summer changed into blue scrubs that pulled tightly across her chest and pants that hung loosely on her hips. Although she hated to, she slid the medallion off her neck—for the first time since Malcolm had put it there. It was cold and achingly sad without his medal on her, so quickly, she grabbed some surgical tape and taped the medallion to her waist band in the shape of a big “X.” That way she would be certain not to lose it. Then she stuffed her bag into a locker. She stood up and breathed deeply, trying to focus on the job ahead, but just then, an irrational fear reached out with its icy, spindly fingers and gripped Summer’s heart. She shuddered in response, feeling something…bad…was about to happen. Her heart raced and cold sweat tickled her spine. She knew this feeling. She had felt it twice before…

  Malcolm, Malcolm, Malcolm. Again she checked her phone. Nothing. She slipped it into her pocket, with the intent to remove it long before she entered the operating room.

  She walked out of the locker room, and Brad held the door for her to enter the prep room. With her hat and face mask secure, Summer entered the prep room to begin the arduous task of scrubbing in.

  That’s when she felt it. In her pocket—her phone was vibrating. She was certain of it. Without a second thought, Summer rushed from the prep area and into the locker room. She yanked off her hat and mask. Her ponytail fell down her back.

  With a shaking hand she pulled her phone from her pocket. “H—hello?”

  “Where are you?” Malcolm sounded terrible, exhausted and broken.

  “I’m in New York. I just got back last night. You don’t sound well, are you okay?” Her heart was beating so fast and loud, she could barely hear his response.

  “It’s Winston.”

  Her stomach flipped. She knew this day would come. Brad pushed open the door, following her into the women’s locker room.

  “Summer, what’s going on?”

  “Who is that?” Malcolm’s voice was stronger.

  “No one.” Summer turned her back to Brad. “Do you want me to come?”

  “Yes.” There was no hesitation in Malcolm’s voice.

  “Summer?” Brad stepped forward.

  Summer lifted her finger to quiet him. Her focus was still on Malcolm. “Are you home?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  Summer clicked off the phone and grabbed her bag. She pushed past Brad, running out into the street.

  ****

  Luckily, she found a cab right away. She leaned back against the ripped vinyl of the cab seat, her fingers nervously drumming against the window.

  “Can you move any faster?”

  “Park traffic can be tough.” The cabdriver shrugged, throwing up his hands. “You a doctor?” He nodded to her in the rearview. She realized she was still wearing scrubs.

  “A vet.” Summer sighed, turning the vent of the air conditioning so it blasted against her face. She rubbed her stomach, a horrible ache forming. Whatever was happening i
n Malcolm’s apartment, it wasn’t good. Winston was strong, but he was also very, very old.

  Summer sat forward, willing the cab to move faster. Time and again she felt the vibration of the phone in her pocket. She checked, but it was only Brad. Needing him to stop, she shot him a quick text. “Sorry I will miss surgery.”

  “Here ya go.” Finally, the cabdriver pulled up in front of Malcolm’s building.

  Summer stuffed thirty bucks through the partition and raced inside the building. The doorman sent her right up, and security escorted her onto the elevator. No one commented on her scrubs. Maybe it wasn’t the first time Malcolm had doctors to his apartment…or…women dresses like nurses. She shook away the ugly thought as the elevator signaled his floor.

  She rushed out of the elevator and knocked on Malcolm’s door. The door was ajar and pushed open with the slightest pressure. She stepped inside.

  Malcolm was sitting on the floor against the wall, with Winston’s head resting in his lap. They both appeared exhausted.

  “He’s barely responsive…” Malcolm’s voice was deep, and tired.

  Summer nodded, approaching them both tentatively. She squatted down, putting out her hand for Winston to smell it, and he whimpered softly. Summer sat down next to Malcolm and Winston, rubbing Winston’s head, gently. Carefully, she pulled back the aging skin of his eyelids, and looked for an answer in his eyes. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was the answer she expected.

  She felt under Winston’s chin, back behind his ears, and down into his arthritic hips. He whimpered again when she touched him, but his body was immobile. He lay there, panting. Summer sat back, sighing. The last thing this man needed was more bad news.

  “Malcolm…” She swallowed hard, pushing herself to remain strong. “There are better, more experienced vets than me. Winston must have an excellent doctor I can call. Or, I have a friend here in the city, a very good surgeon…” Her words faded away.

  Malcolm left his head against the wall, but turned slowly toward Summer.

  Summer bit her lip, swallowing her sorrow. “He…Winston…you have to know you’ve both been incredibly lucky. Except for some arthritis, he’s been fit and happy. That’s why if we call people with more experience than I…they may have answers I don’t.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “There are no answers, Summer. It’s over…”

  “Yes.” She leaned back against the wall, next to Malcolm.

  They sat for a few moments, both of them petting Winston.

  “Sum?”

  “Yes?” Her voice was a whisper.

  “I didn’t ask you to come as a vet—I asked you to come for me. And for us.”

  He reached out and took Summer’s hand, and she gulped back a sob. Together, they sat in the foyer of Malcolm’s penthouse, as Winston passed on their laps.

  Chapter Twenty

  Malcolm felt it immediately. Even before she did. She could tell, because he squeezed her hand tightly and slid Winston off their laps. He pulled her to her feet, and she looked up at him, confused, crippled by heartache and sorrow.

  “Come…” He spoke softly.

  “But…” She gazed down at Winston, shaking her head. He looked so alone there, she couldn’t bear it. “I have to try something, Malcolm. I—I—it’s the only thing I’m good at. Let me try, please…” She pulled away and squatted down beside Winston.

  “No, Sum.” Malcolm squatted next to her, rubbing her back. “It’s not the only thing you’re good at. And no one can bring him back. No one. He’s eighteen years old. That’s—I don’t even know. How old is that for us?”

  “For a Lab, over one hundred.” She swallowed hard, her voice cracking.

  “C’mon.” He stood, pulling her gently to her feet.

  Why was he comforting her? She was the one who needed to be strong for him. She nodded, pushing her tears aside. She took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders, assuming the most businesslike attitude she could muster. “I need to call someone. To…to take the next necessary steps. Are you okay with that?”

  “Yes.” His eyes were heavy on hers, but he didn’t appear nearly as devastated as she had expected. Maybe he was in shock?

  “I can call your vet, I’m sure they’ll be discreet.” Discreet yes, but it was Sunday and there were so many steps that needed to be taken—steps beyond what a vet’s office was prepared to handle—including transporting the body to the crematorium. “Or, I can call the hospital where I was this morning. I have a—a friend there.” She looked down at the ground, not wanting to involve Brad. “He might be able to set up a transport for Winston, and we can cut out the middle steps. Although, you probably have a plan set up. Or your vet has options I’ve never even heard of…?”

  “No…” Malcolm smiled. “That’s fine. Call the hospital, if you don’t mind.”

  “Okay.” Summer nodded and looked down at Winston. She wiped the tears from her eyes and gazed up at Malcolm, simultaneously wanting to protect his privacy and his feelings. “Maybe you should wait on the terrace? So no one knows this is your apartment. Maybe you should just, uh, set it up with your doorman and security so the…uh…transport…comes right up…?” She was stumbling over her words. She hated asking this of him. How could he be so calm?

  “Okay. Thanks.” Malcolm spoke briefly to his doorman then smiled at her, nodding. He left for the balcony.

  Summer took a deep breath and dialed Brad’s number.

  ****

  After she hung up the phone, Summer went out to meet Malcolm on the balcony. He was leaning on the railing, looking out over the city. The view was breathtaking.

  “Hey…” He spoke without turning to her.

  “Hey.” She wanted nothing more than to run into his arms, but she had a job to do, and would he want her, anyway?

  He turned to her, and her breath hitched. He was so dark and serious and…dangerous… and sexy.

  She focused, forcing herself to speak. “The transport will be here in about fifteen minutes. Do you want to say goodbye?”

  Malcolm walked up to her and took her hand. Gently, he pulled her back inside. They stood near Winston, and she fell apart. Tears spilled down her cheeks and sobs overtook her breaths. Malcolm reached out with his incredibly strong arm, and pulled her to his chest.

  “I—I’m sorry.” Her tears flowed freely, drenching his t-shirt.

  “For what?” He held her tight.

  “For what?” She looked up, her eyes dancing back and forth across his. Her breathing grew faster. Her tight muscles relaxed with his arms, strong and powerful, wrapped around her. She pushed herself closer to him, fearing this would be the very last time she would ever be in the arms of Malcolm Angel. She wept, clutching his t-shirt, wanting nothing more than for him to make love to her, over and over again.

  Her jaw clenched and exasperation finally took over. “What am I sorry for?” She pulled back from Malcolm still grasping his t-shirt in her fists—angry at him, angry at Winston, angry at her mother, angry at life, and even angrier at death. “I’m sorry for not being able to help Winston. For not being able to make you feel better…for being upset when he was your dog, and I’ve only known him a short time.”

  He grasped her by both shoulders.

  She tilted her head, softening with his touch. Her knees went weak, and the only thing keeping her upright was him.

  “Summer…” His dark eyes were locked on hers. “Time is not part of the equation of love.”

  She shook her head, and then nodded, falling against Malcolm. They stayed tight in each other’s embrace until the buzzer rang.

  “No…” Summer murmured into his chest. “You didn’t get to say goodbye.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve said too many goodbyes.” He looked down at her and smiled, reaching out to stroke her hair.

  She nodded, as the tears started again. He let go gently and moved toward the door.

  She turned to him. “Malcolm,” her words were a hurried whisper.
“What are you doing?”

  “I’ll take care of this. You don’t need to.” He smiled so sweetly it warmed her heart.

  “But this is my job—and you need to stay anonymous.”

  “I’m through with hiding, Summer. And I’m done with not taking responsibility.”

  Summer lunged forward and grabbed his hand. “Malcolm,” she took a deep breath, a crushing pressure on top of her. “The vet I called to set this up…he was my boyfriend once, but it’s been over for a long time.”

  “I know.” Malcolm stroked her cheek. “Dr. Brad Parker. He was your professor, and now, he wants to be your boss.”

  “Yes.” Summer stared, dumbstruck. Her jaw hung open. “How did you know?”

  Malcolm smiled and winked at her. She smiled back as he opened the door.

  ****

  “Hi, I’m—Holy Jesus Christ…” The man stepped back when he saw Malcolm Angel at the door.

  “I knew I was gonna meet my maker one of these days,” Malcolm clasped the man’s hand, shaking. “I just didn’t expect it to be quite this soon.” This had to be Brad—the uneasy feeling in his gut and adrenaline rush told him so.

  As he let the man into the apartment, Malcolm turned back to Summer, grinning. Her face was stoic.

  “Sorry. Uh…” The man took a second to collect himself. “I’m Dr. Parker. Brad Parker.”

  Yup. Just as he suspected. Malcolm used the opportunity to size up Brad. Handsome, he never expected anything less. Smart, probably, if Summer dated him. And tall—very, very tall. That, he wasn’t expecting. Malcolm took a deep breath, standing up straighter. Come on, Malcolm was six foot one, this guy had to be six-five. That means Summer probably only came up to his abdomen…which meant…oh, hell no. Malcolm’s fists clenched, and he began to perspire. The thought of Summer with this man—the thought of Summer with any other man… Jealousy spiked Malcolm’s blood pressure; he could feel the pounding in his temples. He eyed Brad’s suit and shiny shoes, and his tense shoulder muscles released a bit. Nah…not at all right for Summer. She was too grounded and real for a guy in designer suits and spit polished shoes. Malcolm exhaled, regaining control. He smirked, liking the fact his mere presence had thrown Brad off his game, and Brad still hadn’t collected himself.