by Olivia Marks
Liam must have picked up on my discomfort. “Hey man, you never seen a beautiful woman before?” he said jokingly, though there was a definite edge to his voice.
“Whatever bro,” the guy mumbled, looking back at his phone. Liam, almost defiantly, tipped my face up to look at him and kissed me softly on the side of my mouth. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured.
The journalist arrived, dressed in rolled-up pants, fancy shoes, square glasses, and a checked shirt. The whole nerd-chic thing really seemed to have taken off. I could never have imagined a guy back home dressed like that, though I thought it was kind of cool.
The journalist settled in and thanked us all for coming. Liam introduced me, but the guy barely glanced my way. We ordered first. Liam egged me into choosing the $26 Black Label burger, which apparently was one of the best burgers in New York. My arteries were begging me not to, but what was I going to say to a free crazy-expensive burger?
The interviewer switched on a tiny recording device and dived into his list of questions. The band looked a lot more awake than I’d ever seen then, eagerly answering every question while laughing and joking freely. I got the sense that this interview was a big deal for them.
But Liam didn’t join in the fun. He didn’t volunteer any information and only answered direct questions in the briefest of sentences. I watched him curiously, wondering why he was so reluctant to participate.
The food arrived. The burger was like a work of art—caramelized onions sat on top of a juicy slab of beef that was sandwiched between two fluffy brioche buns. I tried one of the skinny little flies that accompanied it. It was salty, crunchy, and definitely the best French fry I’d ever tasted. Whatever power had decided I was going to get a to-die-for meal and a rock god this afternoon was definitely looking out for my best interests.
The afternoon started to go sour, though, when the interviewer decided to corner said rock god.
“So Liam, I’m wondering how you got your start in music. After all, I’ve heard you studied to be a car mechanic. Though rumor is your stepfather was an ace with the acoustic guitar. Was he the one who encouraged you to try the business?”
Liam immediately stiffened. I could hear his breathing become shallower. “Not really,” he said quietly. “He had nothing to do with it.”
But the interviewer didn’t look satisfied. “But your family doesn’t have a history of playing music. You didn’t even take lessons growing up. And I hear your stepfather played at local clubs, was a real favorite.”
“Yeah man, he played country stuff. Nothing like what I do. He had zero to do with my career or me learning to play the guitar, OK?”
But instead of backing down, the interviewer just looked more interested. He leaned forward. “Your birth dad skipped out when you were young. Did you take up the guitar as a way to cope? A lot of your songs are about loss, I’m just wondering what makes you write them.”
Liam pushed away his plate of steak and fries. “Look man, I know you’re here to get the dirt, but I don’t want to talk about my past, OK? That stuff’s over and done with. Now my life is about my music, about getting people pumped about rock, and about travelling. You got questions about those things, I’ll answer them.”
“Okay, take it easy,” the interviewer replied, looking taken aback. “It’s cool. But you say you want to talk about your music, I want to know what inspires those songs because that’s what your fans want to know. It sounds like you had a crazy past—Dad skips out, stepdad was charged with public drunkenness several times…”
Liam, who was on the outside of the booth, immediately slid out and grabbed his leather jacket. “You got a real nerve, man,” he said fiercely. “Why you want to go and bring that stuff up? It’s none of your damn business or anyone else’s for that matter. I’m outta here. Later guys.” And with that he took off. The interviewer and I sat there gape-mouthed while the other guys merely continued chewing like this was a regular affair.
“Excuse me,” I finally said when I returned to my senses. I slid out of the booth and bolted towards the door.
I finally caught up with him on the street where he was trying to hail a cab. He was clearly in a dark mood.
“Hey Liam,” I said timidly. “You OK?”
“Yeah perfect,” he said. He looked at me quickly. “Sorry to ruin your lunch. I didn’t see it going down like that.”
“That’s OK. Where are you heading?”
“Dunno. Back to the hotel, I guess.” He stuck out his hand, searching for a cab in the honking traffic.
“You want to maybe grab a coffee first?” I asked timidly. “No questions asked.”
He looked at me again, this time for longer. His green eyes were just as intense but they looked wary and even scared.
“I appreciate that Shay, but I gotta just chill for a while. I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you later, OK?” He kissed me on the mouth quickly and then got into a cab that had just pulled up at the curb. I watched that yellow cab weave through the bumper-to-bumper traffic, my heart sinking as I felt the lingering sting of that careless kiss.
Chapter Three
A slice of light filtered through the curtains as I sat curled up in a gray felt easy chair with my laptop. The room was dark with only the endless white noise of traffic to keep me company. Aimee slept soundly on the pull out couch across from me, an occasional whistle emitting from her nose. I smiled to hear it; it was like a little piece of home.
Aimee had immediately left me alone when I’d returned from the interview—I’m sure the look on my face was enough to realize that I wasn’t OK. Instead she mandated a night in watching chick flicks on her laptop and sipping on fresh fruit smoothies whipped up by Felicia. My body was satisfied by the injection of vitamins but my mind refused to settle. After an hour of tossing and turning I’d given up the gambit and cracked open my laptop to distract me.
At first I merely scrolled through my favorite baking blogs. But even an amazing recipe for white chocolate rainbow fudge couldn’t keep my attention. I turned instead to the Black Dawn message boards to see what the latest news was. I was intrigued to see that a Hazard 41 thread had been started and without thinking I clicked over to it.
Black Dawn will forever be my favorite band, a message by johnnynineforever read, but Hazard 41 is definitely the runner-up! I saw them at the New York show and they rocked. That guitarist is sure yummy, too.
I rolled my eyes. And he’s sure temperamental, I thought.
The next message read: OMG I know! His name’s Liam Carter. Too bad he only seems to date blonde sticks otherwise I’d be after him in a second.
Blonde sticks what? I frowned, my index finger hovering over the track pad. I didn’t want to keep reading but at that point, it was inevitable.
Girl, don’t worry! I was at Minetta the other night and I saw him close and cuddly with a Plain Jane brunette. But don’t get any ideas because he’s soon going to be mine! johnnynineforever piped in then with: Wow totally going against type! Maybe she’s the daughter of someone at the label? Haha that’s totally mean. Anyway, at least we now have a chance, right?
I snapped close my laptop. I’d read enough. Aimee moaned and turned as if sensing my ire. I breathed deeply. Who did these strangers think they were to say that I was a ‘Plain Jane’ and that Liam was only interested in me for my (non-existent) connections?
After a couple minutes of deep breathing the anger was slowly replaced by a growing sense of dread. What were these mean girls implying by saying that he was dating against type? I’d never thought that he usually went for girls like me, but still…
I found myself cracking open my laptop again, curiosity smothering a small voice inside that warned me against prying into things I didn’t want to know. A second later I was googling ‘Liam Carter.’
The first photos were simply concert shots taken by fans. I sighed inwardly as I ogled Liam’s tall; muscular frame encased in tight jeans and tighter T shirts. His gorgeous green eyes were even more intense than
usual, his shoulder length hair wild and sweaty, his strong fingers frozen in frantic motion over his prized guitar.
I should have just stopped there.
Two more scrolls revealed more casual photos of Liam at press events, signing with Black Dawn at music stores, attending functions, and even a few shots of him just getting a drink at a bar or out at dinner. A couple of photos were professional shots but many more were obviously taken my excited fans. I indulged myself in another eye roll. But my amusement turned to a cold sense of emptiness as I spotted, again and again, a very beautiful blonde next to him.
The blondes were obviously not fans from the way they were elegantly draped around Liam. Their hands rested around his waist, their cheeks pressed against his, their eyes rested admiringly on him. And they were uniformly model-thin gazelles with perfectly pressed and highlighted manes, designer duds, and teetering heels.
My sharp intake of breath must have woken up Amy because she suddenly stirred.
“Shay, what the heck are you still doing up?” she mumbled.
“911,” I breathed. “You gotta take a look at this.”
Aimee leapt out of bed and was at my side in a flash. Confusion crossed her face as she surveyed the photos.
“God Shay, I thought you were going to say someone died. Don’t tell me you’re up in the dead of night trolling photos of Liam?”
My heart was still beating out of control as my eyes frantically surveyed each and every photo. “Look who he’s with,” I breathed.
She leaned in for a closer look and sighed. “Shay, the guy’s got a past. Without the help of Google you wouldn’t need to know any of this. It’s not important. The guy’s obviously into you and that’s all that matters.”
She stopped speaking though when she saw my teary eyes. “Aw Shay,” she said, leaning in for an awkward hug. “Girl, don’t torture yourself.”
“Aimee, he was really weird at the interview today. He took off with barely a kiss. What if he’s realized that this little experiment, toying with the Plain Jane fat girl, has gone too far?”
“Hush Shay, you’re not an experiment. Any guy would be lucky to be with a girl just as genuine, sweet, smart, and, yes, gorgeous, as you are. So you’re not who he usually dates. Is he the type of guy you usually date?”
“No,” I replied wiping away the budding tears. “But that’s because I’ve never had the chance. Liam could have any girl he wants.”
Aimee pulled back to look me in the eyes. Her blonde hair was squished against her face and I could barely make out red welts from the pillow. “Sure he could, but how many times do you think he’s been with a girl who really wants to be with him? You like that he’s a rocker, but he’s also a good guy, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling newly sad. “He’s interesting, he’s kind, and he’s complicated. But why would he care if some average girl liked him for who he is?”
“Aw Shay, it makes me sad to hear that. You’re anything but average.” She patted me on the back. “Listen, nothing seems right at 3 a.m. or whatever time it is. Let’s try to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a new day, right?”
I had to agree with her. My feelings were too overwhelming. I just wanted to sleep and wake up to a hopefully more forgiving tomorrow. We crawled into bed. While Aimee fell asleep immediately, I confess that it took me much longer.
* * *
I tried not to be moony as Aimee and I sat at Felicia’s breakfast table the next morning. After all, this was Aimee’s summer too and I didn’t want to ruin it for her with my emotional rollercoaster. Instead, I threw myself into the latest issue of People, skipping the pages full of skinny socialites. I was groggy after my restless night but Felicia’s excellent strong coffee helped a lot.
Felicia was on the phone, elegantly dressed in a matching Victoria Secret pajama pink set with black piping. On the other hand, I was wearing plaid boxers with an old T-shirt from my high school. I sighed, re-focusing on my coffee. Stop it with the self-hate, Shayla, I said to myself. Aimee’s right, you need to stop being so hard on yourself.
Felicia hung up the phone and approached us, beaming. “Girls, I have a little surprise for you this morning. I know how much you’ve wanted to see Rent. Well, I’ve been representing their production company and I managed to score two tickets to the show this afternoon. Whaddya think?”
All thought of Liam immediately fell out of my brain. Aimee and I turned to look at each other mouths agape. It wasn’t long before we were screaming and bouncing up and down in our chairs.
“You have to be kidding me!” Aimee gasped, breathless. “Rent? Us? This afternoon?”
Which is how Aimee, Felicia, and I found ourselves on Broadway, waiting in line outside the theatre. Aimee and I were freshly showered, dressed in maxi dresses and sandals, feeling pretty, happy, and oh-so-excited. We were huge fans of musical theatre and while we lacked the talent to sing or act, we had helped behind-the-scenes every year with our school’s production. Aimee loved set design while I was more comfortable helping with logistics and promotion. But other than at our school, we’d never seen a live performance, having to be content with movie versions and soundtracks. But that would soon change.
Soon we were seated in the third row center. The seats were perfect and we spent the next couple of hours totally enraptured with the brilliant lights, the charismatic acting, the passionate singing, and dramatic sets. Rent’s modern story and tear-jerking story got us every time. We exited the theatre overwhelmed and thrilled, Felicia smiling happily beside us.
“Our summer is now complete,” Aimee enthused. “There is no way it can get better.”
“It can and it will,” I countered and Aimee rewarded me with a toothy smile.
We headed over to Shake Shack at Madison Square Park to celebrate our good luck. Aimee and I had become insta-fans of the low-key outdoor restaurant with its rocking burgers and delicious custard shakes. We both ordered a burger with cheese and shakes in crazy flavors. Mine had waffles in it and Aimee’s had donuts. We settled in at a table and munched happily under a blue sky dotted by fleecy clouds. Families and dog walkers strolled by. Everyone looked so content. It was a perfect Sunday.
That is until a certain tall figure walked briskly over to the counter to order. He was wearing a tight black shirt with a studded jean jacket and Docs. My breath caught as my eyes followed his every movement. Aimee’s eyes followed my own.
“Oh no,” was all she said.
Liam collected his paper bag and walked right by us before doing a double take. His eyes bugged as he took me in. “Shayla,” he said. “Wow, it is so good to see you.”
I felt like I wanted to sink into the earth. “Hey Liam,” I said, delicately swabbing my face with a napkin to make sure no traces of burger were left.
“I, uh,” he stopped, looking over at Felicia and Aimee’s unfriendly faces. “I wanted to share some good news with you. Spin Magazine has asked me and the guys to do a shoot with them tomorrow.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” I said, genuinely pleased. “Congrats.”
“Thanks,” he said, seeming nervous. He shifted his feet. “I’m not sure if you’ll agree to this after how I acted yesterday but I really want you to come with me. This photography stuff still freaks me out. I’d love to have you there.”
I looked down at my shake. “I don’t know Liam. It sounds great but Aimee and I have tentative plans.” Liar, I thought.
“Ah OK,” he said, still shifting uneasily. “Well if your plans don’t work out, I’d love to see you. Really.” The note in his voice caught my attention. But before I could respond he took off, with only a nod to Felicia and Aimee.
I sat there stunned.
“Tentative plans, eh?” Aimee said. “So what’re you going to do?”
I shook my head, still overwhelmed. Just then my cell buzzed.
I’m so sorry. The interview brought up some crazy things for me. I hope I can explain soon. In the meantime, please do me the honor of coming tomo
rrow. I’ll send you the address. xo
* * *
Liam stared at me from across the room. I’d come into the shoot late and we hadn’t yet had a chance to talk. The energy in the studio was intense—stylists bustled about with racks of clothes, photography assistants adjusted the lights, magazine staff directed the flow of traffic, and catering staff tended to a table overflowing with food. But for Liam and me, it was like we were the only two people in the room.
The connection between us was palpable and so overwhelming that I could only glance up to meet his gaze every once in a while. Otherwise, I felt like I was being burned. My mind was in tumult—after all, I was hoping to keep things platonic.
I’d deliberately not dressed to impress. After all, there was no way I could compete with all those blonde babes. I’d donned my trademark blue sneaks, blue jeans, and a white Roxy V-neck T. I felt comfortable and causal—more like me.
Aimee’s words continued to burn into my mind: Shay, you know you two can’t just be friends.
He obviously needs a friend, I’d protested. I know he can’t be interested in me, uh like that. But it’s the least I can do to give him some support.
Aimee had shaken her head. It’s not a good idea, hon. He may be a rock star, but he’s also damaged goods. Do you really want to hurt yourself?
But I’d felt strongly that I at least owed Liam the chance to explain. He’d obviously had some heavy issues on his mind during the interview. I wasn’t perfect either what with my body issues and other insecurities. Aimee was probably right in that it wasn’t a good idea for us to get involved but I’d seen what his world was like. If I could provide a bit of grounding to him then I was happy to do that.
Yet, Liam’s stare in that studio was anything but friendly. I sat in a corner munching on a fruit plate and trying to look innocuous while sorting out my swirling thoughts. What did he want with me?
Adding to my confusion was my high level of excitement. I was at a Spin Magazine shoot! In New York! When I wasn’t sneaking looks at Liam I was staring opening at the gorgeous racks of clothes being trundled around, the stick-thin assistants in their tight ponytails and designer skinny jeans, and the thousands of dollars worth of photography equipment.
