Listen With Your Heart

by Max Hudson

  But, despite my conclusion that Lane was actually an asshole, he wanted to apologize. It didn’t sit right with me. It felt like he might want something from me. He probably wanted to make sure I wouldn’t tell the world I was the one who #savedlane. I already didn’t plan on it. I didn’t save him to get publicity, I did it because it was the right thing to do. Besides, I didn’t want to be mobbed by people either. I may have needed more hobbies, but running away from Lane’s fans wasn’t something I wanted to repeat, no matter how big of a thrill it was at the time.

  Well it wasn’t like I wanted to call him. He didn’t have to know about my voice to text feature and there was no way I was video calling him. I could text him, tell him it was the only way to do it since I was deaf, and that removed a ton of the pressure from the whole interaction. He could text his platitudes and then get on with his day and I could get on with mine. Not that I was doing anything later, but it was the principle of the thing.

  “Hello Lane, this is Nate Lockes.” After I typed that out, I looked it over and added. “From the incident last Saturday.” I didn’t expect him to remember my name. I sent it and then began packing up my stuff from the gym not expecting a reply anytime soon.

  I saw my phone buzz on the bench almost seconds later.

  His reply read: “I left so quickly I didn’t have the chance to tell you thank you.”

  I replied, “No thanks are necessary but they are welcome.”

  “What you did was extraordinary,” he said.

  “Very forward of you,” I mumbled out loud to no one as I stared at his text bubble. I sent back, “It was really nothing. Just happy to help.”

  He began typing back immediately. “Is there some way I can repay you?”

  That was surprising. I thought for sure he’d launch into by the way don’t tell anyone. But maybe this was the bribe leading into it. “What are you offering?”

  “Dinner? At my apartment. You and Bunny.”

  Bunny would kill me if I said no and... I was curious. I didn’t like to think bad of people. I didn’t want this guy to be an asshole. I wanted him to prove me wrong.

  “Sure. Place and Time?”

  He set it up for two days from then and finished the text with, “I’ll see you soon.”

  It was a pleasant interaction. He didn’t even mention the fact that I was quickly becoming a viral conspiracy theory. Lane was a confusing man. Were all celebrities like that?

  After I got home from the gym, I video-called Bunny. She picked up right as the call was about to end.

  “Hey Nate,” she said as I read her lips.

  “Hey Bunny. I texted Lane.”

  She didn’t blink, didn’t visually react. I thought for sure she’d jump on the chance to ask me about it. She may be done physically chasing after Lane but that doesn’t mean she had given up on signing him.

  “He wants us to come over for dinner two days from now. Can you make it?” I asked.

  She looked down and began flipping through her planner which was always immaculately organized whenever I saw it.

  “I can’t. I’m renewing a contract and meeting with lawyers. It will be my whole day.”

  “Oh. I can ask him to reschedule.”

  “No,” she said simply. I thought she’d jump at the chance of a private dinner. I was suddenly on edge.

  “Why not?” I asked slowly.

  “Remember Nate? He’s on vacation. He doesn’t want to talk about work stuff and that’s the only reason why I’d go. He wants to thank you for saving him. I didn’t help you. I maybe even made it worse. Enjoy your fancy dinner.”

  That sounded more like her.

  “And it will be nice for you to get out of your apartment with someone who isn’t me.”

  I frowned. “That was a low blow.”

  “But I’m not wrong. Now I’m still at work, I’ll text you later.”

  “I’ll let you get back to it.”

  She winked and the call ended.

  So, I was on my own. It would be rude to cancel after I already said yes and I was still curious about what Lane was really like. And Bunny wasn’t wrong. After I went deaf, I stopped hanging around my old friends. Some of them weren’t understanding of my disability and the others who understood treated me like I was fragile. It was just like how I lost my job. I kept losing parts of myself and became very isolated. I was still recovering from that. Bunny stayed with me through it all. But it was time for me to meet new people. I wasn’t going to start a lifelong friendship with this popstar but it would be good practice.

  My phone buzzed in my hands.

  It was a new text from Lane: “Do either of you have allergies?”

  “A bad boy huh?” I thought and smiled to myself. I wanted to try to push things a bit further, learn a little more about him, and texted, “Are you taking menu suggestions?”

  “If you have any favorites, I can try to make them, but no promises.”

  I typed the next text out very quickly. “You’re cooking it?”

  “I like to cook. And I’m great at it.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “You doubt me?”

  I rolled my eyes but I was still smiling. “I don’t believe anyone actually knows how to cook. They’re all faking it and professional chefs are aliens.”

  “I’ll prove you wrong.”

  “You only have to make dinner for two. Bunny can’t make it by the way.”

  “She’ll have to come over another time.”

  Another time? Interesting. “I’ll see you in two days.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  I stared down at the three words he sent me. It probably meant nothing. Just something to say to someone you’ve made plans with. I ignored the way those words might make me feel. I didn’t like to get my hopes up about anything anymore.

  Chapter Seven

  Nate

  In one hand I held a rather expensive, for me, bottle of sangria and I used the other hand to press the button of the elevator for the penthouse. I had to go through security just to get inside the apartment. Who knew how many other famous and or rich people lived in this place and Lane got to live at the very top. I was under dressed in one of my many flannel shirts over a white undershirt and a pair of well-worn jeans. I didn’t feel like I should dress up for my own thank you dinner. I was perfectly comfortable and I shrugged off the looks of the receptionist and the security guards. I was used to people looking at me funny. I wouldn’t ever let it bring me to feel bad about myself.

  I felt the elevator come to a gentle stop and the doors slid open right into a large apartment that took over the whole floor. It was well lit by window after window and dimmed lights on the ceiling that were automatically getting brighter as the sun fell further down the sky. It was Summer so the sun was still high for the late hour giving the whole apartment a warm golden glow as it slowly began to set.

  “Hello?” I called into the apartment. The place could’ve been empty for all I knew. It didn’t actually look like anyone lived there. It looked like an ad for buying the place. Maybe Lane was impossibly neat?

  I saw him come into view out of the corner of my eye. He was wearing a navy-blue dress shirt tucked into very structured black pants. His black hair was messy but not in the “I spent an hour making sure it looked this messy” way, it looked genuine like he really couldn’t get it all the way under control. The way his hair curled up made it almost look like he had a horn on each side of his head. It made him look more like a bad boy than all the spikes he wore at his concerts.

  “Welcome.” I could tell he was making sure to pronounce the word clearly. I appreciated the effort.

  The smell hit me, like it had followed him over to me. It smelled like warm honey, maple, and also smoke, but not like burning cookies, like well cooked meat. “What are you making?”

  “I roasted a ham,” he said and I saw a faint blush rise to his cheeks.

  “Holy shit.”

  “I wanted to t
hank you properly. And I haven’t cooked in nearly a year.”

  “A year?”

  “I’ve been on tour. There isn’t a kitchen on the tour bus. So, I’m out of practice.” He had an easy smile on his face but there was something about the way he held himself. It looked too structured. His eyes didn’t match his expression.

  “I brought this.” I held the wine up to change the conversation and distract myself from his eyes.

  He strode over to me, every step practiced and light. He took the bottle from my hands and admired it. I found myself watching his fingers slide down the bottle’s neck and had to look away. There was no reason to be fixating on that.

  “My guests never bring anything,” he said after he looked up from reading the label.

  “Why not? It’s not so hard to bring a bottle of wine. And your typical guests can probably afford something nicer.”

  “This is nice.” The words seemed heavy on his lips. He didn’t speak for a moment. “I guess they just assume I wouldn’t need it.”

  “After the day we had last week, we both could use a little wine,” I added with a chuckle.

  I saw the rise and fall of his chest as he laughed a little too. I saw something in his eye shine. It was the first bit of something genuine I’d seen from him so far.

  Lane suddenly turned his head toward where he came from. “The timer,” he explained after seeing my confusion.

  I followed him to the kitchen where the smells of so much good food surrounded me. I felt like I could float. Lane was turned away, messing with the stovetop and the oven, his lips moving, maybe muttering to himself, as he worked. And I just watched him like I was used to being in somebody else’s kitchen. Maybe it was the smell of the sweet potatoes he had roasted that made me feel so at home.

  “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time too,” I mentioned as I watched him check the temperature of the ham.

  He glanced at me with a questioning look.

  “It’s been what? Ten years?”

  His eyebrows shot up so far, I thought they might enter orbit. “What do you eat?”

  “Protein smoothies mostly. And frozen meals,” I admitted.

  It looked like he scoffed.

  “I don’t have time to be a fancy alien cook.” I crossed my arms and made a show of scowling. It wasn’t anything serious. It was like what Bunny always told me; I was too dramatic. I also did something else Bunny accused me of doing too often: lying.

  “I get it. But if you ever do get time you should learn. My mother told me it was the only skill worth learning.”

  “She’s a smart woman.”

  “She is. And she’d kill me if she found out I hadn’t cooked in so long and that I hadn’t invited anyone over for dinner in just as long. So, sit down and let me fix that.”

  “Gladly.”

  Dinner was a beautifully roasted maple ham with a side of sweet potatoes and a vegetable I’d never heard of called broccolini. It was restaurant quality stuff. I hadn’t had a meal that good since I moved out to Seattle on my own and had to learn how to be self-sufficient.

  “Your mom taught you all this right? Where are you from anyway? All the articles about you seem to think you just appeared here three years ago with your leather jacket already on your shoulders.”

  He smiled and once again there was something slightly off about it. “I don’t think you are the kind of person who would leak such delicate information. But I ask that anything I tell you stays between us. I want my mother to avoid mobs of fans.” Toward the end of his speech that feeling went away. It was like I was looking at Lane through a kaleidoscope. In interviews he was a stereotypical bad boy, here he was acting the part of a sophisticated celebrity, but occasionally that would slip. Which one was the real Lane Daughtry? Were any of them real?

  “I won’t even tell Bunny,” I promised.

  “I’m from a small town in Nebraska. You will not have heard of it. It’s mostly farms but my mom owns the only dinner in town. Her cooking brought people in from several states away even during the difficult years. She single-handedly carried the local economy throughout the ups and downs.”

  I couldn’t hear accents anymore, but by the way the shapes of his words changed I could tell he was slipping into something.

  “If she’s as good as or better than you I could see why.”

  “She’s way better.” He said very seriously. “If you ever find yourself in the middle of Nebraska, you should stop by her place.”

  His sweet potatoes were making me seriously consider taking a road trip.

  “But that’s enough about me. If you want to know something the answer is probably on the internet.”

  “But is that information true?”

  He shrugged. “Does it matter?” That was the bad boy talking.

  It should matter, I wanted to say, but the moment of honesty I was getting before had closed up behind Lane’s passive stare.

  “What about you Nate? What are you up to?”

  “I—,” I stopped. Truthfully, I was trying to rebuild my life after my disability made me tear my previous life down. But I didn’t want to tell him the truth. It was hypocritical of me. I wanted to find out who he really was but I refused to be myself either. “I’m lost.”

  The carefully constructed indifference on Lane’s face shattered for a moment. “Excuse me?”

  I shrugged. Being honest hurt but it was nice to not have to pretend I was okay to make sure Bunny wouldn’t worry. “I don’t have a job and I don’t have any idea what I should do next.”

  “That’s terrible.” I looked into his eyes and felt his concern.

  “I used to be a bouncer but...after I lost my hearing. Well. People don’t treat you the same even when everything else about you is.”

  “Do you have any dreams?” Lane said slowly.

  “Dreams?”

  “Or just something you want.”

  I wanted… “I want to be helpful.”

  “If only there were more people like you,” Lane said almost too quickly for me to catch.

  “Lane—”

  Lane once again looked away at what I assumed was a sudden noise. “Excuse me. Someone from the front desk is trying to call me.” He quickly hurried off and once he was out of sight, I took a large sip of the wine. I was starting to spill my guts to the guy and I had barely touched my wine before this.

  Lane walked slowly back into the room. His expression was unreadable.

  “Lane?” I tried to get his attention.

  After a moment, like he had just then heard me, he looked up. He was shaking slightly. My mind immediately flashed to the day I first saw him, terrified of the crowd pressing down around him. This Lane I knew was the real one. But I wish I could meet him under better circumstances.

  Lane uttered the words so slowly and carefully I would have to be looking away not to know what they were. “They found out where I live.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lane

  My body moved on autopilot as I took my seat at my kitchen table across from Nate once again. I had to remind myself to breathe and blink.

  “Lane?” Nate said tentatively.

  I was looking at him but not really seeing him. “There’s…” I swallowed heavily. “There’s a crowd down there.” I was doing everything in my power not to cry. I hadn’t had a panic attack this bad in years. I always kept it together. Lane Daughtry, popstar, never had anything to worry about or cry over. But Lane trying to have a nice dinner with someone he liked for the first time in years didn’t know how to handle losing the one place in the city that was private. Everywhere else I was worried I’d be seen, here wasn’t home, but it was something that was just mine.

  “Did they see me?” Nate asked heavily.

  I snapped out of my stupor. “This wasn’t your fault. They found out just now that my address got leaked an hour before you showed up. Your identity should still be safe.”

  “Another leak?” Nate said mostly to him
self but I was curious too.

  “I’m sorry but we’ll have to cut the evening short. I’m sure if you leave alone, they won't recognize you since they really only caught your elbow and half of your back in that picture.”

  “What about you?”

  What about me? “I’ll wait here until the crowd is dispersed and then I’ll have to move.”

  “Just like that?” His eyebrows quirked up and he frowned.

  “I don’t have much to pack.”

  He stood up from his chair abruptly. “That sucks. And it’s dangerous without all your security here with a big crowd.”

  “What else can I do?” I asked, feeling a numbness fall over me. It was easier than panic.

  “Come with me.”

  I glanced up at him like he was crazy. “You’re crazy. As soon as I walk down there, I’ll be swarmed.”

  “Then you shouldn’t walk down there.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “Can I look at what clothes you have?”

  “Uh?”

  “Trust me on this. I’ve done some freelance security.”

  I stood up and led him to my bedroom walk-in closet. I had most of my tour outfits here that I never wore anymore but kept for the nostalgia. I hadn’t bought much of the clothes that were in there. Most things were picked out by my personal stylists and purchased for me.

  “What’s something Lane Daughtry would never wear?” He asked me.

  I felt some heat rise to my cheeks. I went to the very back of my closet and pulled out some pastel peach shorts. I ordered them online because I liked the color but I’d never worn them before.