One Night With a Rock Star

by Chana Keefer

  “… and violent, and immature.” He laughed and dodged another thwack as Sammy growled and barked. I reached for him with a “Shush!”

  “Good bye Miss Collins.” Sky reached for my hand. “By your leave,” he addressed Sammy before placing a palm to my cheek. ”Now get inside before you freeze.”

  I was suddenly bold with the thought I’d never see him again. “I never got your autograph.” It reminded me of that moment when the jump rope is going round and you dive in, praying you chose the right split-second. I kissed him. It was fast as a snake strike, but I did it… and backed away before Sammy could stop growling or decide to add teeth to his warning.

  With Sammy trotting by my side, I was determined not to look back, but as I cleared the shrubbery, the urge was too great and I stopped for one last look.

  Sky remained where I had left him. He crouched down and called, ”Come here, Sammy!” patting his chest to lure the dog to him. Sammy bounded back. Now that I didn’t need protecting, he was friendly to a fault. Sky allowed the goofy dog to place his paws on his shoulders and lick his face.

  I heard Sky say, “Take a message to Esther for me?”

  He whispered something in Sammy’s ear. When he was finished, the mutt gave a quick lick on his cheek before running to my side.

  I was greeted with snuffly doggy slobbers. “You send very messy messages,” I remarked as Sky stood watching our slimy reunion.

  “I’ve never wished more for a dog’s life.” Sky’s smile was barely visible in the moonlight. “Take care of her, Sammy.” He turned to open the car door.

  I stood with my hand caressing Sammy’s head and watched the sleek car make its silent progress out the gate before turning on the headlights and gliding away.

  Watching them disappear into the night, I wondered that my heart would feel so heavy even though a large chunk of it was driving away.

  A car I hadn’t noticed on the dark service road flipped on its headlights and roared into the night. I didn’t give it much thought. Being close to the highway, we often saw vehicles stopped due to some type of malfunction, a truck driver who needed a quick nap, or teenagers who used it as a convenient make-out station.

  I knelt to give Sammy a hug, burying my face in the thick, warm fur of his neck. The day he had appeared on our doorstep, a skinny, flea-bitten pup dumped by a passing motorist, had been the start of a beautiful relationship. I had always wished I could thank the jerk who did it (after pressing charges for their cruelty of course).

  I tiptoed into the house and the familiar cozy world of my childhood surrounded me as if the rest of the night had been a dream. In the dimness I paused to hug the events of this night to myself, knowing memories would have to suffice when the emotional Novocain of fatigue wore off.

  I stumbled in for a hot shower. The sweats still carried Sky’s scent so I hung them up to dry. My last groggy thought as I collapsed onto my pillow was, “Oh darn, I left the rose behind.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  I woke with morning light streaming in through a tiny crack in the curtains. As soon as my mind had a coherent thought, the memory of the night before came flooding in and I knew there would be no more sleep. Ah! There were the white sweats hanging in the bathroom, concrete evidence it hadn’t been a dream.

  I had an immediate hunger to visit the fields with Sammy and hopped up to throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. This one happened to be bright red and bore my favorite film star, Bugs Bunny, on the front. I washed my face, pulled my curls over to a side braid, stuck on my favorite straw sunhat and snuck out the back door to retrieve my walking companion. Our walks had been much less frequent in the past two years since I usually remained at the dorm for the weekends.

  Nothing brought me back to center faster than a romp through weeds, over fences, and through a couple abandoned, forlorn houses in nearby fields. Sometimes I would flop down on a hill to relax in the sun, lose track of time and turn to find a half-moon of cows munching as they studied this strange creature invading their territory.

  Country walks in all seasons were therapeutic for me, but spring really was the best. Baby animals were everywhere. Things would fall so easily into proper perspective while watching a foal or calf running and bucking on spindly legs. If there just-so-happened to be a soft spring shower or, better yet, a good old-fashioned Texas thunderstorm, I was set.

  Living in tornado alley, the weather could turn very exciting at a moment’s notice. If I heard we were under tornado watch, I would rush outside to see the show. I had even made mom very nervous for years by entertaining the idea of becoming one of those storm chasers. “Could there be a cooler job?” I would ask her.

  But on this particular morning, after my brush with the storm labeled “Sky,” I felt like Dorothy, trying to adjust to the real world after Oz.

  Thus the next hour and a half were spent stomping through weeds, climbing fences and failing miserably to wrangle my internal cyclone.

  Sammy and I walked to my favorite barn, pushing our way through the giant sunflower forest standing guard around it. As spring and summer progressed, gaining entrance would be practically impossible without a machete. I supposed years of feeding farm animals had created the sunflower forest due to the seeds in their food.

  This was my haven. We didn’t own it. I was totally trespassing, but no one could love it more. It was a classic barn; bare, unpainted wood bleached gray by the sun, large open breezeways facing east and west, small stalls tucked under eaves, and a flight of stairs hidden to one side leading to the upper level where hay had been stored. It was large, airy, and lonely. Perfect.

  I passed through the first level to the little wooden door at the bottom of the stairs. Sammy, always protective, scouted ahead. The most intimidating creature I had met on my visits had been a large, gray-brown barn owl that swooped in one rainy day to stare at me as if to say, “So you’re the reason it smells funny in here.”

  When time allowed, I had spent countless hours here writing in my journal, reading a good book, singing any ridiculous song at the top of my lungs or just swinging my feet from the open second story, uninterrupted and peaceful in my own private sanctuary.

  Sammy and I spent a few contented moments lounging in the hay and watching the huge ravens circling high in the sky. I wanted to remain longer (I always wanted to remain longer) but mom and dad would be wondering about my unannounced visit and might even be holding breakfast for me.

  Thus, Sammy and I traipsed back to the house, windswept and dusty, but relaxed. As we approached the fence encircling the yard, I noticed a mid-size black car in the drive and, wondering who would call so early on a Saturday, I paused before climbing over. There was a small, familiar face framed in the window. It couldn’t be.

  The back door flew open and Jeremiah tore out to greet me while I remained on the fence, stunned.

  “Esther,” he yelled, “We came to see you! Isn’t it brilliant?”

  I hopped down to give him a quick squeeze. “What are you doing here?”

  I tried to feign interest in Jeremiah’s observations about the cows and Sammy, who decided on the spot that Miah was a kindred spirit, but in truth, I was too dazed for words.

  We walked across the patio with Sammy dancing around us and, when I pulled open the door to the house, mumbling, serious voices halted. That’s never a good thing. I peered around the door.

  Several grave faces greeted me. Wally and James sat at the newspaper-covered kitchen table with mom and dad. It was great to see them, but their expressions told me this was more than a social call.

  “Miah,” said James from the table, “why don’t you go play while we talk to Esther?”

  Just then, Sky emerged from our family picture gallery hallway. I cringed to think of him viewing the infamous family portrait when I was at the height of the frizzy hair and braces era. He strode over and smiled down with the comment, “Nice hat,” but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “What’s up?” I said when n
o one seemed eager to speak.

  Wally placed an arm around my shoulder and led me toward the kitchen. “Good grief,” I laughed, “Who died?”

  “You might want to sit down,” he said and indicated the newspapers with a nod of his head.

  On the front page of the entertainment section, the bold caption declared, “Sky enjoys visit with Texas Rose.” Several photos gleaned from the evening’s events accompanied the headline along with an article describing Sky’s after-concert activities.

  I felt sick as I scanned the article, complete with grainy picture, obviously taken from a building across from Sky’s hotel room, of the two of us lounging on pillows. The photographer had apparently done his job well, even including a photo of our fond farewell.

  The worst part though, was a related story on the same page that contained a picture of me taken in the pressroom. It left no doubt as to my identity. My full name was included; even the name of my school. Thus, the night before was reduced to a naughty story to be clucked over with the morning coffee.

  I looked up at my dad’s sad eyes. My face burned with shame. What could I say?

  “Sky already told us what happened,” Mom said. “And what didn’t.”

  Good ol’ mom.

  I would have been fine if I’d had to go on the defensive. As it was, I found myself blinking back tears. “Thanks,” I said to Sky who pulled up a chair next to mine. At least my family wouldn’t believe I was a tramp.

  The irony of the situation was ridiculous, really. I’d spent the entire night trying to do the “right thing” and the opposite had been published for all to see.

  Sky spoke. “I’ve made a statement to the press to try to clear up the implications, but they love to believe the worst. I mostly made the trip out here to say I’m sorry. I should have known better.” He reached a hand and placed it on top of my own that were clutched tightly together on the table. Even at a moment like this, it felt really nice. “You’ve raised a remarkable young woman.”

  It felt as if all eyes were on me: the eyes in this kitchen as well as those reading the morning paper, shaking their heads over the little Texas floozy who threw herself at rock stars. Desperate to get the focus off of me I asked, “Don’t you have a concert schedule to keep? “

  “We’re flying to the next site this evening,” Wally informed. “The rest left this morning.”

  Oh great. Now I was responsible for screwing up their plans. “You could have just called or something.”

  “Are you trying to be rid of us?” asked Sky.

  There I was, the center of scandal, and all I could think was, “Why couldn’t I at least have been clean when they showed up?”

  My dad spoke up, “Listen, since you’re all here, why not stay for breakfast?”

  There were polite protests but soon the smell of fresh coffee and bacon filled the house, and after sneaking away for a change of clothing, I assisted mom, the queen of the hearty southern breakfast, as she rolled out biscuit dough and barked orders, putting everyone to work. Even Sky stood at our stove, stirring gravy clad in a ruffled apron mom tied over his linen shirt, while Wally and I set the table with napkins he taught me to fold in the shape of birds.

  “OH-MY-GOD!!” The Tarzan-worthy yell echoed off the kitchen walls. We turned to see my brother, John, standing in the doorway to the family room, dressed only in boxer shorts and a pillow-tattooed face, staring at Sky as if at a ghost.

  “John!” reprimanded my mom, who thought no circumstances were worthy of tossing around God’s name.

  “Sky’s in our house! Sky’s in our house! Why’s Sky in our house? Am I dreaming?” John babbled as I crossed the room to him.

  “Yeah, you’re dreaming,” I said as I took my brother by the shoulders and turned him toward his bedroom. I could at least bring him up to speed before he made an even bigger fool of himself.

  I basked in the sound of Sky’s laughter as I pushed my dumbfounded brother from the room.

  But I had to sympathize. Discovering his idol in that ridiculous apron in our kitchen was too much.

  CHAPTER TEN

  What had started as a day full of bad news became one of the most treasured memories of my life. Whenever I bring those hours out to savor, it’s always viewed through a golden haze.

  The meal was a typical rambunctious family gathering with plenty of laughter and several voices talking at once. At first, John was unusually quiet, still stunned by Sky’s presence, but soon he was his joking, teasing self. My parents, on the other hand, were fairly unacquainted with Sky’s accomplishments and treated him as they would any guest, though I couldn’t help but notice dad’s frown when I caught him watching our famous guest.

  All went well until, to my horror, John steered the conversation toward pet peeves and phobias. I knew this drill. He was heading toward the story of the disastrous tickling episode. “But Esther’s the worst…” he started.

  There was no time for subtlety. I kicked his shin under the table. Hard.

  “Ow!” he yelled.

  “Two words.” I brandished the butter knife toward him. “Baby. Pictures.”

  Sky leaned forward with glinting eyes. “This must be good.”

  The stare down with my impish brother commenced as we had one of those telepathic conversations borne of painful familiarity.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “What’s it worth to you?”

  “What’s your life worth? I will SO kill you.”

  “There are witnesses. And I run faster.”

  “I know where you sleep.”

  “But this is too good, I can’t stop myself.”

  With that, John leaned toward Sky and started talking in a low voice.

  That did it. I bolted toward the cabinet containing our baby books and John jumped up to throw himself between me and those photos.

  Thank God for shameless, camera-toting grandmothers and baby boys with an aversion to clothing.

  After that crisis passed, I kept expecting our guests to rush away, but the meal stretched on until the remaining gravy was cold and the biscuit tin was picked clean of crumbs. Jeremiah reclined on his father’s lap until John took him outside to throw a football and they charged out the door arguing about the proper name of the game Jeremiah knew as football.

  Mom shooed us from the table, but Wally remained to help wash up, complimenting her cooking as she flushed with pleasure.

  “Show me around,” Sky requested, so we followed the boys outside and I pointed out the lines of our property, borders comprised of fences, two-lane roads, and railroad tracks bordering the east.

  “What’s over there?” He pointed toward the south. “I thought I saw a girl in a straw hat climbing that fence when we drove in.”

  “Just a burned out house and old barn.” I turned to watch John and Jeremiah, “It’s not ours.”

  “So you were trespassing?”

  I smiled, caught. I usually tried not to consider that pesky fact.

  “Is this a habit?”

  What could I say? Yes. Locked doors, fences and blocked stairways were almost irresistible to me. Other people could just walk by. I had to at least peek.

  “I don’t, like, pick locks or anything.”

  “So. No breaking, just entering.” One brow raised in cross-examinination mode.

  I had to laugh. “Okay. Guilty. But I’ll never be sorry about the barn. I’m sure the owner can’t love it nearly as much as I do.”

  “Sounds worth a little trespassing,” Sky hopped over the fence of our yard and held out a hand.

  “But, your shoes and clothes. You can’t wear those in a muddy field.” I indicated his linen and Italian leather.

  “I’m not gonna miss this worrying about that,” he said with a grin.

  I hopped off the fence and we started across the field. Soon, a bark reached our ears followed by a yelled, “Hey!” We turned to see Sammy and Jeremiah running to catch up with us. Sammy’s eyes were accusing, deeply insulted I would
even consider a walk without him.

  So our company grew to four as we headed across the fields on a gorgeous spring morning with a wide, blue sky and lazy, puffed clouds overhead.

  Nature cooperated, supplying the occasional jack rabbit for Sammy to chase, a couple of the cutest baby calves imaginable and, always a favorite, the wheeling, circling and floating hawks catching a warm draft to rise up in the wind. I’d always been jealous of those windsurfing birds.

  After climbing through a couple barbed wire fences and subsequently unsnagging Jeremiah’s pants, we arrived at the sunflower forest. Sammy disappeared into the stalks and I followed him all the way to my upstairs lookout.

  In the middle of the sunflowers, Sky allowed Miah to climb aboard piggyback style. As they drew near, I grabbed a small mound of hay.

  “Esther?” called Jeremiah.

  Poof! The mound of hay landed on their heads. A very gratifying moment.

  Sammy stuck his head out beside mine, wagging his tail, as my victims scattered sprigs from their hair. I looked down, feigning surprise. “Bad dog!” I shook a finger at Sammy.

  There was a wicked gleam in Sky’s eyes as he set down Jeremiah and raced to find upstairs access while Sammy barked directions.

  Hiding place options were thin so I dove through a small square porthole to a tiny storage room, flopping to the dusty, hard floor among ancient feedbags and rusted farm gear. I squatted down knowing it wouldn’t take Sky long to figure out my only hiding option.

  Sky called, “Oh Esther, come out and play.” As he got closer, I scanned the room for ammo. A small bit of rope lay at my feet.

  He spoke, low and menacing, “That wasn’t very nice, attacking the innocent.”

  With Darth Vader-like breathing he approached the window above my head. I knew he thought I was cornered as I looked straight up to see his hand descend. I twisted slightly to the side and held up the rope. As he groped downward, I slid the rope through his hand with a writhing movement. He gasped and his hand jerked back. I doubled over with silent laughter as an armload of hay showered down on my head. I moved out of reach dangling the rope and taunting. “Ooh, scary snake!”