"What's in this for me? I mean, I'm pretty busy. I have band stuff to do, and a personal life, and sleep is also important. It'd be cutting into my personal time. I can't do that for free."
Damn kids.
"I'll give you a hundred bucks."
"Phht. No deal. If you threw in that leather jacket of yours to sweeten the pot, the one with the cool patches, I'd be interested."
I loved that jacket. Most of my clothes I couldn't care less about, but that jacket and I had bonded. Firecracker wasn't kidding, though.
"You could do it out of the goodness of your heart, to ensure true love prevails."
"Yeah, I could, but I won't. The jacket or no dice. Do you love this chick, or do you love the jacket? Ask yourself that."
"Okay, deal." I spat on my hand and held it out to her.
She stared at my hand for a minute. I thought she'd refuse to shake. I guessed chicks were a bit funny about things like spit. Then she spat on her hand and shook.
With the Firecracker on my side, I was sure this would go a lot better.
Elijah
AFTER FOUR HOURS, I had a bunch of screwed-up pages and not much else. Every melody I played on the guitar ended up being something I'd stolen from somewhere else. Like, I'd think I'd hit on something perfect, but it'd be a bit of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" or "Enter Sandman". Bastards, taking all the good bits.
The lyrics weren't much better. Rose, Rose--that was fine, but then I could only think of "nose" or "clothes". "I want to take off your clothes" was what I had. That wasn't great, but it was a starting point.
I hadn't gotten any further when I set the guitar aside.
If I ordered a snack from room service, I'd be able to think better. Food always helped.
Then I Googled information about songwriting. The internet said to brainstorm the images I wanted to use. I got another sheet of paper and thought about images.
Her face when I fucked her. That was a pretty strong image. The smell of her perfume--but how do you convey that? Just saying "her perfume" meant nothing, so I picked up the pillow and took a strong whiff of it. The scent had faded, and there was nothing I could do to stop that.
Hey, good line. I wrote that one down. I knew nothing about perfume, though. Just that it was musky, and it drove me insane.
I tried to think of more images, but that got me hard, so when the room service guy brought my food, I had to hide my crotch. The smell of that bacon sandwich distracted my thoughts.
Maybe I wasn't cut out for this songwriting thing, but I had to try to reach her. The song idea was the best thing I'd come up with. It'd take a lot to beat that.
I finished up my sandwich and washed my greasy hands, then got back to the brainstorming. My head hurt, as though I'd stretched my brain to its very edges. I hoped it'd spring back into shape when I finished this. It wasn't a comfortable feeling.
Eventually, I had a page filled with words. Now I just had to string them together in a reasonable form. I circled the words I thought were the most important, like "teacher" and "hot body".
Someone knocked on my door. Fay.
"How's the songwriting going?" she said. "Polly told me all about it."
I shrugged.
Fay picked up the paper from the bed and read through it. She clicked her tongue.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"No. Tell me."
She screwed up her face and glared at me. "You really want to know?"
"Yeah, of course." But I ran my fingers through my hair, wondering what was so bad. It was a first draft. Nothing serious.
"All this stuff is about sex and how hot she is, and, man, you were totally obsessed with her as a school boy, right? You don't see her as a person, just as a fantasy come to life. That's kinda okay if you're writing a song for a general audience, especially a dude audience, but you want to reach her. Her as a person, not as your high school fantasy."
I sat down. Fay's words slammed into me like freight train going at full speed. "But she was my high school fantasy come to life."
"To you. Maybe she wants to be seen as more than that. What's her favorite food? Her job? Her eye color?"
"I think her eyes are blue. She has lovely hands, I know that."
"I hate to break this to you, Lij, but you aren't in love with her. You're in love with a hormonal fantasy from your school days. If you can't see her as a real person, you don't really love her."
Hell, Firecracker might be right. But, no.
"If I don't love her, why does my chest hurt like this?"
Fay glanced at the room service trolley. "Indigestion?"
"Why have I stopped looking at other women?"
"Since when?"
"Since two nights ago. Like, backstage last night, there were those two hot chicks. The one in the hot pants with the legs that went on forever and the one with the huge tits."
"The ones you didn't look at, right?"
"Not like I'd normally have looked at them. Hell, you couldn't help but notice the legs and the tits--they were right out there. But I looked at them in a clinical way, like a doctor. Not in a man way."
Fay rolled her eyes.
"You can roll your eyes all you like, but that's a record for me. I'm not a man who doesn't look at women."
She patted my arm. "I believe you, Lij. But think about it, seriously. A one-night stand with this woman is a nice memory, but if you do go after her, you're messing with her life. I might be young, and I might not know much about love, but I know this: if you really love her, you'll think about what you have to offer her, not just what you'll be getting out of this."
I was all prepared with the witty comeback, the whole "What woman wouldn't want what I have to offer?" thing, but I took a look at Firecracker's face. She wasn't joking around. And, hell, the kid made a lot of sense.
"You should run along. Crow's going to get jealous if you spend too much time in my room," I told her.
"Nah, he doesn't get jealous. Anyway, I told him I don't want you. I just want your leather jacket. He understands."
After she left, I lay on my bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling. It wasn't a particular interesting ceiling, and it didn't have any answers for me. I had no answers for me, either. What did I have to offer anyone? Was I even good for any more than one night? I'd never stuck around long enough to find out. The only long-term thing I'd ever had was right out of high school, and that was only a casual long-term thing. More like fuck buddies.
Maybe Rose had seen that in me. That I wasn't a good long-term investment. Maybe she was right.
Elijah
"I'VE GOT A LEAD," FAY said the next morning at the breakfast buffet while we waited for our toast to cook. "A bit of Facebook stalking, and I think I know a few cafes where she hangs out."
"I tried Facebook stalking, and I came up with nothing."
"Some of us have the skills, and some don't. You have to dig deep. Kind of like with these eggs." She poked the eggs on her plate with her fork. "All the dried-out ones are on top, so you dig down and get the good ones. The bacon, on the other hand--you skim off the surface because the underneath layers have gone soggy."
"You're quite the breakfast buffet expert," I told her.
"It's an important life skill."
I took my plate over and sat down at the table with Polly and Damo.
"Got enough food there," Damo said.
He could sit there munching on his whatever granola. I wouldn't miss out on the good stuff.
"So, what time are we going out?" Fay asked, sitting down beside me.
"Huh?"
"We have to case these places. Make sure we find her. If you're sure you still want to."
Even after all my thinking, I was sure. I needed to find Rose and ask her for myself. Otherwise, I'd spend my life wondering what had happened.
"Let's do it."
"You aren't using Elijah as a cover so you can spend the day with Crow, are you?" Polly asked.
Fay stabbed a poor, defense
less slice of bacon. It looked like there'd been words between the two of them. I wouldn't want to be in the middle of that.
"Why would you think Elijah is any better than Crow?" she asked. "He's the one who screws around."
"Because he's not interested in you," Polly said. "If he looked at you the way Crow does, I'd warn you off him, too."
Fay's head jerked up. "How does Crow look at me?" She grinned, and her eyes sparkled.
Polly had said the wrong thing to discourage her.
"We'll head out after breakfast. We can have second breakfast at one of these cafes," I told her.
"Sweet. I'm always up for second breakfast."
When I met her in the lobby, she had Crow with her. Damn it, she was using me as her cover.
"I'm not sure I want to get in the middle of anything between you and Polly," I said.
It wasn't like I'd refuse to hang out with Crow, but I didn't want to be a target. Polly could be damn scary, and if she got angry, Damo would get angry.
"It's fine," she said. "I'll take full blame for any shit that goes down."
She could say that, but the reality might be different. I preferred my life to be a non-conflict zone.
We headed to a part of town I hadn't been to before. Not that I'd gotten out of the hotel much.
"We were here yesterday," Fay said. "You should've come with us. It's not like you got much done with the songwriting, anyway."
"Songwriting is not easy."
We got to the first cafe on the list.
"Maybe this is a bad idea," I said. "She could be at any of these cafes, or none. The logical way to go about this is to split up and go to one cafe each, then sit there all day waiting for her."
Fay pursed her lips. "But Crow doesn't know what she looks like, and I only caught a quick glimpse when she came backstage. It'd be stupid to look for someone we don't know."
"Didn't you see photos on her Facebook?"
"Nothing recognizable."
I trailed behind them into the cafe. An hour later, we'd achieved nothing except eating another great breakfast.
"Okay, next one on the list," Fay said.
I still thought this was a waste of time. The chances of finding her like this were minimal, but it beat the hell out of staring at my hotel room ceiling.
Fay browsed some shop windows as we walked. She and Crow joked around. He laughed more with her than I'd heard him laugh in all the years we'd been in the band together. I wondered if I should wander off and leave them to it.
"Hey, I might pop in here a minute," Fay said after looking in one of the shops. "They have some cute stuff."
"I'll wait outside."
The two of them went in while I propped myself against the wall. It was an overcast day, but not too cold. People rushed by, but no one paid me any attention. This wasn't the sort of neighborhood where we had a huge fan base, I guessed. These hipsters probably listened to some kind of emo music that no one else had ever heard of, and listened to it before anyone else. We'd be way too mainstream.
At least if this was a bust, I could keep my jacket.
I peered into the shop to see if Fay had finished shopping. I couldn't see them among the racks. She could be ages yet.
As I turned back around, I spotted her.
Rose.
Rushing down the street. She looked like she was on her way somewhere. She had her hair pulled back in a bun and a red scarf around her neck.
I took off after her down the busy street, my eyes not leaving that red scarf. She walked fast, and I didn't want to break into a run. I'd catch up when she stopped for a walk signal or something. I didn't want to freak her out.
I didn't want to admit it to myself, but part of me was scared to catch up to her.
I'd gone a few blocks when I started wondering if my mind was playing tricks on me. Maybe it wasn't her. Maybe it was just someone who looked like her. A lot of women around here had similar hair, and I hadn't gotten a good look at her face.
Still, I'd committed to following her. I just didn't want some strange woman thinking I was a creep.
She turned a corner and went down a smaller street. I'd almost caught up with her when a bunch of people burst out of a train station exit, filling the space between us. That red scarf stood out, though.
As she crossed a bridge, the crowd thinned. I could've rushed up and grabbed her arm or called out to her, but I stayed silent.
Finally, she stopped at a crossing. It was now or never. Even if I was shitting myself, I couldn't let that fear stop me. I had to say something.
I rushed to her, reached out to her. She turned. It was her. It was most definitely her.
Then, in one solid beat of my heart, she slipped away. She'd seen me, and she bolted, running down the street. I broke into a run too. I couldn't get this close and let her escape. She knew this city, though, and I was just a tourist.
She turned down a side street and disappeared. There were a dozen or more buildings she could've slipped into.
I bent over, hands on my knees. I'd screwed up. She'd seen me, and she'd made sure she vanished.
At least one question had been answered. She most definitely was reluctant to see me again.
Elijah
THAT NIGHT, I DIDN'T play well. It wasn't like I crashed and burned; more like, I was just phoning it in. I expected Damo to have something to say about that afterward, but he was strangely silent on the subject. That was so unlike him, it made me uneasy.
I had a few beers, and a chick from a local radio station came over to talk to me. She put the moves in, all doe-eyed and breathless, but it seemed contrived and annoying. The way she kept touching my arm bugged me.
When I noticed Matty leaving early to go back to the hotel, I decided to join him. I'd rather mope alone than surrounded by other people.
"Not like you to head back early," Matt said when we got in the van.
I sized him up. Was he having a lend of me, or was he being serious? Nope. It seemed like Matt was still out of the loop on the joke that my life had become.
"Yeah, I haven't been feeling myself the last few days."
That was a lie. The only thing I had been feeling was myself. I'd become worse than I'd been in high school, since my fantasies were now fueled by the real thing. The poor cleaning staff must hate having to empty my trash can filled with used Kleenex.
I hadn't even spoken much to Matt. He kept to himself, mostly.
"Enjoying the tour?" I asked.
"Yeah, it's been good so far. You seemed a bit down tonight."
I shrugged. I was sick of telling people about it. No one seemed to take me seriously, and things had deteriorated to the point where I was giving up hope. I'd thought about going to the wine bar again, but it seemed pointless. If she turned up, she'd probably bolt as soon as she clapped eyes on me. If she didn't want to be found, then I should stop looking.
"Never give up, mate," Matt said as the van approached the hotel. "I thought Fiona would never see me as more than a friend, but it worked out for us. There's always hope."
I got out of the van feeling strangely lightened by his words. He was probably just trying to be nice, but it was almost like he'd read my thoughts. I was giving up, but that wasn't my way. Sure, Rose had run from me, but maybe she'd had a good reason, like she'd been late for a dentist appointment. I'd never find out if I didn't talk to her.
At the hotel, I got changed, then headed back to the wine bar. The waiter greeted me like an old friend.
I knew she wouldn't turn up. If she didn't want to see me, the last place she'd be was the bar we'd gone to together. But I had a few nice glasses of wine and some time to think. I got out my notebook and worked on the song lyrics while I sipped my wine. It made me feel quite literary.
Fay had been right: I really did need to start thinking of Rose as a woman, not just someone for me to wank over. She hadn't put it quite so bluntly, but that was what she'd meant. For ten years I'd been dreaming about Miss Jones, but I didn't
even know the first thing about her. I'd wasted so much of our time together talking about myself.
A woman sitting alone at the bar smiled at me. I didn't acknowledge her.
I played around with the words in my notebook. I didn't know her. I didn't try to know her. That could be the basis for the song. My own selfishness ruling all. I had no idea if that would make for a good song, but once I had some words down, I hummed them in my head, playing around with how they'd sound being sung.
I put down the notebook and let my thoughts flow. Music playing in my head, matching the words. Then I snatched up the notebook again and rushed to get everything written down before I lost it. Nothing technical or any of that, just drawings of how I wanted it to sound. Epic and crashing. The thought of this song both excited and scared me. Could I ever get it to sound the way it did in my head?
The waiter came over and pointed to his watch. Hell, when had it gotten that late? He wanted to close up. Everyone else had left the place, leaving me alone. I gave him the thumbs-up. Poor guy. He'd probably been waiting for me to stop scribbling so he could get home to bed.
It was only when I got back to the hotel that I thought to check my phone.
There was a message from a hidden number. I fumbled, trying to open it.
"Don't try to find me," was all it said.
Elijah
"WHY DOESN'T SHE WANT me to find her?" I asked Fay.
We were all waiting around in a magazine office. They wanted us to do a photo shoot, the two bands together. Stuff like that drove me nuts. I wanted to rock, not stand around looking like a giant goober for photos.
Fay and I had flopped down on one of the sofas while the others milled around. Wreckage had arrived before us to prepared. Both Polly and Fay looked weird, all glammed up. I was used to Polly's heavy eyeliner and Fay's wide-eyed innocence. I wasn't sure the makeup artist had done much other than erase their personalities.
"I dunno, but I helped you, so you owe me one fine leather jacket, my friend."
"Technically, no, you didn't help me. Technically, I found her myself while you were off shopping."
"'Technically' means jack shit. If I hadn't helped you, you'd have gotten no further than sitting on your hotel bed tossing off."
Rock Mayhem: 8 Complete Rock Star Romance Novels Page 56
