Rocked to the Core

by Clara Bayard

  "So how long are they going to be in town?"

  "Weeks, months. Seems unclear."

  "Wow. And you're going to see him again?"

  "I don't know. Probably. This whole thing was a lot easier when he was far away."

  Kelly snorted. "That's not how I remember it, friend."

  She had a point.

  "Anyway, enough about my love life."

  "Oh, lah-di-dah. Poor Liss, so many guys chasing her."

  "Shut up before I ask about the new fella warming your sheets."

  She waved her hand dismissively. "Greg? Zach's roommate? Nothing to tell. He's hot and available. And dumb. And hung."

  I cackled and then we both collapsed into a fit of laughter for a long time until a member of the staff came over to ask us to quiet down. We couldn't, so we left and took that conversation to a nearby pizza place. Even with Joe on my mind it was a perfectly normal day in my new, pleasantly normal life and I wouldn't have traded it for anything.

  Chapter Seven

  Two weeks later I stood by the classroom door, smoothing my skirt down over my knees and trying not to throw up. Finally, Doug came out and noticed me.

  "Melissa, good to see you."

  "You too."

  "Thanks for coming down today. I didn't think this could wait until next week."

  "It's no problem."

  "Good. Walk with me to my office; I want to talk to you."

  I nodded and followed him through the winding paths to a building I'd never been in before. It was older and kind of shabby in comparison to most of the other freshly painted spaces I'd seen.

  Doug led me downstairs to a tiny office that was covered in papers. "Have a seat if you can find a chair under this mess."

  "Thanks." I perched on the edge of a wood chair next to the desk, my stomach roiling. I knew this was about my article. And the fact that he wanted to talk in private had to be bad. He was probably going to tell me to stop coming to class, that it was a waste of both of our time. I would be mature and professional about it, shake his hand and go. No crying or begging for another chance.

  Doug lifted a pile of papers from the desk chair and sat down. He pulled a folder from a drawer and opened it. I saw my name and the article, sort of. The margins and text were barely visible under the scribbled in red pen. My eyes darted up and down the first page, noticing circles, notations, arrows and symbols I'd never seen before. Oh god. Was he going to make me read that? See every terrible word and stupid idea?

  He glanced over and saw the look of horror on my face. "Hey, relax. This is normal."

  Yup. Normal for me. Failure when I finally felt optimistic about the future.

  "I know you're not planning to enroll, which is actually good. It makes things simpler."

  I felt tears forming behind my eyes and willed them away, wringing my hands in my lap and biting my lip to keep from sobbing. I'd put so much work into that article. Spent days researching, interviewing, drafting, rewriting. I was so proud of it, and was about to hear how terrible it was. Thoughts of professionalism fled and I struggled to keep from falling on the floor. He kept talking but I was barely registering the words, so lost in my own misery.

  "Normally there's a lot of issues about publishing student work outside, since it was written for class, but since this wasn't an actual assignment we can just write up a waiver and are good to go.

  "These edits are just a first round, of course. My friend will have more for you. Could be a lot of work. But you'll get to see how the pros do it firsthand."

  I cocked my head to the side. "Um, Doug?"

  "Yes?"

  "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

  "The edits. Mine are general but the next rounds will be specific to the paper."

  "What paper?"

  "The Weekly Word."

  "What does my article have to do with the Word?"

  "Well, if they're going to publish it you'll have to conform it to their editorial and style guidelines."

  "Pub-what?"

  He peered at me quizzically. "Were you asleep for the beginning of this conversation?"

  "I guess. Can you back up?"

  "Sure. I was saying that your piece really impressed me. You got some incredible colorful quotes and some great historical tidbits. And tying the diner's history into that of the city was a great idea. The microcosm is a wonderful way to make the whole thing relevant and accessible for readers.

  "So I passed a copy to my friend at the Word and he loved it. Thought it would be perfect for a special edition they're planning for next month. I know it's just a free weekly paper, but it'll be a real writing credit for you."

  "I…they're going to run my article? In the Weekly Word? Everyone reads that paper. Or, at least the website."

  Doug groaned. "Yeah, don't get me started on the death of print. I could go on for days. So, look. This is going to be a lot of work for you. But it's a great opportunity that could lead to more. What do you think?"

  "I-I don't know what to say. I thought you were going to tell me my article was horrible and I should never write anything again. So this is…just a lot to process."

  "But you're glad, right? I mean, I don't want to push you into something."

  "No. You're not. I am glad. So glad. Amazed. Freaked out. And really fucking excited." I shut my mouth hard enough to make my teeth ache. "Sorry. For cursing."

  Doug just laughed. "Don't worry about it. I have heard that word before. 'Really fucking excited' is how you should be feeling. You've got real talent and I think you could have a long future in journalism if you keep working hard at it."

  I smiled. "Thank you. So, what's next?"

  Next was another half hour of talking before I could go. We walked through his notes on my piece and the process of getting in touch with his friend at the Weekly Word. When I left, floating on a cloud of pride, I stopped outside to spin around a few times with glee. And managed not to fall down afterwards. My first thought was to call Joe, but I didn't. Instead I dialed Kelly's number and told her to meet me at my place for a celebratory dinner.

  She arrived an hour later with two bottles of cheap wine and Zach. They hugged me and I apologized for burning the dinner I'd tried to make. We ordered some Thai food instead and ate and drank sitting on the floor of my apartment.

  Kelly got a phone call and went outside to take it while I cleaned up and put leftovers in the refrigerator while Zach flipped through some of my books. He was drunk, face red and shirt rumpled. Adorable.

  When I finished straightening up I went and sat down across from him. "So, see anything you like?"

  Zach's eyes widened and his mouth hung open.

  I replayed the question and slapped myself on the forehead. "In the books, I meant. You can borrow anything if you want."

  He muttered, "Thanks," but I noticed his attention was more on my cleavage than my reading material. It made me smile.

  "Are you looking at my boobs, Zach?"

  "What? No. I would never."

  I giggled. "Why not? Don't you like them?"

  "I-of course. They're amazing. But I…damn it. You're just messing with me, aren't you?"

  "Yup. It's okay." I slid over next to him and patted his arm.

  "Oh hell, I'm terrible with all this stuff. And you make me nervous."

  I did? "I do?"

  "Yeah. You're so pretty and funny and smart."

  I looked around; searching for the person he was talking about. "Me?"

  "Yes. And now you're going to have your first article published? Kind of intimidating for a regular guy like me. I mean I'm only just deciding on a major and you're starting your career. Wow."

  I was intimidating? The very idea was ridiculous and flattering and I leaned over and kissed him without thinking.

  Zach's lips were soft and he kissed me back lightly, tentatively. I put my hand on his shoulder and deepened the kiss, opening my mouth to let my tongue explore. He responded in kind, and then reached around me
to press his hand against the small of my back.

  It was strange and slightly awkward, but nice. Normal, more like the nervous kisses I remembered from high school, in sharp contrast to the deep needful, absorbing voraciousness I'd become used to with Joe.

  Thinking about him made me freeze, just as Zach was feeling emboldened. His other hand rose to cup my cheek, but I was already pulling back. We sat there for a long moment, noses almost touching; each lost in thought and unsure where to go next.

  Kelly slammed through the door, waving a bottle of champagne. "I ran around the corner to get a real celebration going but…" Her voice trailed off as she saw us sitting so close on the floor. "But first I need to go to the bathroom." She ran into the other room and shut the door behind her.

  Zach sat back against the wall and smiled weakly at me. "I, uh…"

  "No, don't say anything. Listen, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you."

  "I'm not complaining. It was great. Maybe-"

  "No, I really shouldn't have. I'm not looking to start anything."

  "It's all right."

  "No, it isn't." I could taste him on my mouth and it felt like a betrayal. "I am really sorry, but I think you should go."

  He shook his head hopelessly and then stood up. "Okay. Well, congratulations again. And I guess I'll see you around?"

  "Sure, thanks."

  I hung my head as he left, feeling like a piece of garbage at the bottom of a landfill.

  Kelly came back in and sat down next to me. She hugged be briefly and asked where Zach was. I explained he was gone and not coming back and she just nodded.

  "I saw something earlier," she said cautiously. "Something I think you should see, but now I'm not sure."

  "What is it?"

  "A video. Of Joe."

  "Is it going to make me feel worse?"

  "I don't know. Maybe."

  I sighed and pulled my laptop out of its bag. "Bring it on."

  ~*~

  "I'm here with Dream Defiled, whose freshman album was just certified platinum. My first question is for Joe Hawk, songwriter and front man. Joe, how does it feel to hit this incredible mark so soon?"

  He shrugged. "Weird, mostly. And unreal. We've been on the road for most of the last year, heads down, just playing shows. Album sales aren't something we can control so we don't really pay attention. But it's a real honor, of course. Our fans are awesome and we thank them for supporting us."

  "Great. So, are you guys celebrating? Going on vacation?"

  Joe laughed. "Kind of. We're working on new songs for the next album right now and will start recording soon. Sleeping in the same bed for more than two days feels like a vacation to us."

  "Oh, exciting. What can you tell us about the new material?"

  Dex leaned over and clapped his hand over Joe's mouth, laughing. "Nothing. He's gotten in enough trouble sharing unreleased tracks."

  The reporter giggled and flipped her hair, recrossing her long legs. "That's right. You created something of a media storm when you played a new song no one had heard before. It was one of the most downloaded files on the internet before the actual recording went on sale. And one that your fans loved so much they still paid for it. Is 'Spark' going to be on this album?"

  Joe and Dex pretended to fight for a few seconds and then settled down. "No," Joe said. "All the songs are going to be new. That song's release as a single was just to cover my ass. But I am working on something that's kind of a sequel to it, for lack of a better term."

  "That sounds interesting. Tell us more."

  "I can't give you any specifics but I will say the situation that created 'Spark' has continued to inspire my songwriting."

  "Okay. So, does it concern you that your most popular song is a ballad? Most of your music has a harder edge."

  "We love connecting with our fans. And yeah, we're a rock band, but we've got hearts too. And sometimes that side touches people in a way that a party song won't. I write what I feel, and sometimes that's anger. Other times it's a need to get wild. And sometimes it's a little more tender." He blushed and shrugged his shoulders.

  The reporter leaned over and pursed her lips. "I sense some juicy gossip. Come on Joe, your fans want to know. Who is the girl with the 'sweet face and sinful lips' you wrote about? Is she someone real?"

  "Of course. But I want to keep my private life private. I'll just say relationships are complicated, even when you think you know someone's right for you from the second you meet. Nothing is perfect, but love is worth fighting for."

  The reporter, and the rest of the band were silent, stunned by his impassioned words and heartfelt tone.

  "Wow," she finally continued. "Deep words from Joe Hawk. I know I'd be melting if I was the girl someone talked like that about. We'll be back with more from Dream Defiled after the break. Stay tuned."

  ~*~

  "Well?"

  "Well what?"

  Kelly rolled her eyes. "Come on, Liss. That boy is out of his head for you. He was practically crying."

  "He was not."

  "Were we watching the same interview? Tough guy rock stars do not get all gooey in public unless it means something."

  I sighed. "Kelly, I know. I've never doubted how much Joe cares about me. But it isn't that simple."

  "Why not? Because of Zach?"

  "What? No." I shook my head. "That was a mistake, a test. Stupid. I love Joe. But my love for him doesn't make the problems go away."

  "True. But hiding from him doesn’t make the love go away either."

  I glared at her. "I hate you."

  "You adore me. And I'm right."

  "Yes. That's what I hate."

  "So?"

  "So I'll go talk to him." I owed him that. Owed myself that.

  "You can do more than talk."

  I blushed, realizing I still hadn't told her I'd slept with Joe the last time I saw him. "Whatever. Can we get back to talking about the article? I have some things I think you can help me with."

  "Fine. You talk about work, I'll pick out an outfit for you. Something that screams 'forget that invitation to the Playboy mansion and stay home with me' should do it."

  "Huh? Joe got invited to the Playboy mansion?"

  "It's in the second part of the interview. Wanna watch it?"

  "No, I don't think I do. But…did he want to go?"

  All of my insecurities rushed through my brain at the thought of Joe surrounded by skinny, fake-tanned and fake-boobed Playmates. Even if we figured out a way to be together, that would be my life, right? The fat girlfriend at home while the hot rock star partied with celebrities and wannabes. I tugged at a loose thread on the bottom of my shirt, oblivious to whatever Kelly was saying. Could I really go to work every day and see pictures of him all over the country doing who know what? Could our love and my self-esteem survive that for a month, a year, forever?

  It didn't matter. I couldn't spend any more time in limbo with him. It was time to end it once and for all.

  Chapter Eight

  He opened the door and retreated to his bed. I dropped my purse on the floor and stared out the window behind him, watching night fall over the city.

  "We need to talk," I said.

  "I know. But I've told you what I want. You have to tell me, now."

  "We had this conversation once before."

  "Yes." He raked his fingers through his hair. "And then you left. Again and again."

  "I know. I'm sorry."

  "I don't want you apology, Liss. I want this to stop."

  "That's why I'm here."

  "Good. So go on. Say what you want to."

  I looked at him and saw something new, something that broke my heart. He seemed smaller, less alive than ever before. I'd done that to him and it made me want to puke.

  "I…I love you." I hadn't meant to say that, but it was true.

  Joe's eyes widened and he shook his head. "You're an actual crazy person."

  "What?"

  He barked out a laugh.
"Woman, you are nuts. You've been driving me up the wall for half a year and after all this you come in here to tell me you love me? I know that, stupid. If I didn't we wouldn't be here."

  "Huh?" My head was spinning. I had no idea what he was talking about or where this conversation was going. All of the things I'd been planning to say on the way over disappeared and I just stood there.

  "Liss, I started falling in love with you the first night we met. On the walk back to your apartment and it only gets stronger every day. I love you so much my skin hums with it. And I knew it was happening for you too. I could see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you touched me. And I can see it in you now, but that doesn't change anything.

  "I am all out of ways to do this. I've tried being forceful, tried being understanding, tried being absent. Nothing works. Whatever is going on in your brain that won't let you take a chance on us is beyond my control.

  "The only thing I want more than you is for you to be happy. And I have to accept that for whatever reason you're not when we're together. I didn't see how you struggled on tour. I was distracted and blinded by how much fun I was having. But I see it now. And it hurts to me too."

  "Joe, stop." I put my hand up. "I didn't come here to fight."

  He stood up and crossed his arms. "Oh I know."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Why do you think it means? I fight for us. I've always fought for us. You just run and hide at the first sign of trouble. You can say you love me, but it means nothing when what you do is act like you hate me, hate us."

  "I don't."

  "Then tell me why."

  "Because. You don't understand. We're so different."

  "I can't understand if you won't tell me, so tell me."

  "You told me once about joining your first band. How it made you feel, how you knew it was what you were supposed to do. And here you are, doing it. That's amazing. But I don't have that thing. I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up."

  "So? You're twenty-one, Liss. Not fifty-one. You have time."

  "Maybe. And maybe I have found it, or I'm trying to. But I'm not sure and I can't figure it out sitting on a tour bus. Or waiting at home for you to come back. I can't just be your girlfriend."