Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1

by Charli B. Rose

  Armed with a map and a set of keys, I drove the few miles outside of Austin to my original destination. For a couple of hours, I was able to lose myself in recreating the beauty of the natural pool using watercolors. The longer I gazed at the picturesque scene, the less peaceful I felt. My nerves were all over the place as I contemplated seeing Dawson again. It had been eighteen months since I’d laid eyes on him. Finally, deciding to call it a day, I packed up and drove to my hotel.

  After checking in, I got ready for the show. I pulled everything out of my suitcase, trying to find the perfect outfit. What was I supposed to wear to see the love of my life, who I hadn’t seen in so long? We hadn’t seen each other in one year, three months, twenty-three days, five hours and seventeen minutes. But who was counting? I hadn’t packed anything with the intention of going out anywhere, let alone a concert to see Dawson.

  A second and third look at every article of clothing didn’t reveal any fashion secrets. With a sigh, I finally pulled on a pair of black jeans and a sequined crop top. My hair was too short to really do anything with. That would be different. Dawson had always loved my long hair. Said it was like a curtain, hiding us from the world whenever I leaned down to kiss him. Oh well. No curtain to hide behind anymore. I kept my makeup light and wore his favorite perfume, the one he had designed for me—Happily Ever After. What a joke. Even after all this time, it was still the only scent I wore. The only connection I allowed myself to keep every day.

  I drove to the venue a bit early with the intentions of catching Joe’s attention to get backstage and see Dawson before the show. As I approached the entrance, I realized what a foolish notion that was. I’d forgotten how chaotic things were on the outside before a show. The line of groupies vying to get backstage was long. People emerging from backstage looked stoned. I’d just have to wait until after the show and catch Joe’s attention.

  When I finally got inside, I found my seat and waited. I couldn’t enjoy the opening act. It wasn’t the group who’d been opening for them when I went on tour with LO. Time passed so slowly as I waited for the familiar sounds to fill my ears and that recognizable silhouette to take the stage. The lights went down, and the crowd roared to a frenzy, chanting, “LO, LO, LO,” while stomping their feet. The sound vibrated deeply inside me.

  When the lights came up, the guys were all in position, waiting for him. My heart settled in my throat when he took the stage. My eyes drank up every detail of him. He looked thinner and very tired, but he still set my pulse racing. He stepped up to his mic and tapped it three times. My heart clenched just like it had every time before when he did that. Then he hit the E-minor chord three times, and my soul soared. The smile that captured my face wouldn’t let up. He hadn’t forgotten our signs.

  His voice was just like I remembered. I hadn’t allowed myself to hear it in over a year. It was too painful. When I closed my eyes, all the time and distance were erased. For the span of an hour, my world was right. He pulled over a stool and began to talk to the crowd, strumming absentmindedly.

  “I know we always cover several songs each show. And we rarely cover the same song twice. But I’ve never really explained how we came to know how to play such a wide variety of music. Pretty much all musicians get their start learning how to play other people’s songs. We were no different. But we had an extra motivator.”

  He looked at his bandmates, and they all exchanged smiles at the memory. “You see, there was a special person who was there from the beginning. She was there the very first time I picked up a guitar.”

  My heart lifted as he shared.

  “She made it her mission as we were learning how to play, to pick random songs for us to learn. Some of them fit our image, like this one.” He launched into “Sweet Child o’ Mine”. After a verse and a chorus, he said, “But sometimes she gave us these obscure songs to learn.”

  ♪ Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns ‘n Roses

  The guys all chuckled at his comment, and I grinned like a maniac.

  “This is one song I never really even understood, but I get the meaning behind this old country song now. Because I try to think about everything but the one thing that’s always on my mind.” The band started to play “I Try to Think About Elvis”, but with a rougher edge to it than the original upbeat country hit.

  ♪ I Try to Think About Elvis by Patty Loveless

  Tears filled my eyes as I recalled all the random songs I threw at him over the years. He never failed to learn the challenge song. I was so proud of the musician he’d become. Then he sang a new song about taking things for granted. I could identify with that myself.

  Then they sang an upbeat song which got the crowd on their feet. I danced along with everyone, unable to stop myself. The bass dropped into one of the songs they always saved for near the end—“Love Rocked”. It was a hot, sensual song. One they’d always performed. One that hurt my heart once they recorded the music video for it. Whenever they performed it live, Dawson normally strutted around on the stage, getting the crowd all hot and bothered with the sultry way he moved. It used to get me all hot and bothered too. My body started to respond to the beat, anticipating his moves. He’d sung this song to me in private countless times. It was great foreplay.

  But this time as Dawson moved to the front of the stage, he pointed to several people in the audience randomly. The people were assisted on stage by security. They were all girls in skimpy clothes, just like the music video for the song. One went to grind on the back of the drummer, Jett. Another stepped over to Maddox at the keyboard and ran her hands all over his chest and arms. A third made her way to the bass player, Brooks. Another moved to Wilder, the rhythm guitarist. I’d never watched the entire music video because it was released shortly after our breakup, but I imagined it played out much like the scene on stage.

  The last girl, much to my dismay, slinked up to Dawson. She ran her hands all over him. He didn’t touch her back. His hands were occupied playing guitar, but it was too much for my wounded heart. Through blurry vision, I pushed my way out of the venue and left.

  I returned to my hotel and cried all night. I remembered how he described the concept for the video—sexy dancing with members from the crowd at a concert for the first verse, the guys developing relationships and falling in love with the dancers from verse one for verse two, and verse three breakups and the fallout of love gone wrong.

  My traitorous mind kept imagining Dawson going backstage with that groupie. My heart ached just like it did in the days and weeks following our breakup. Over a year later, I wasn’t even remotely over him. It was madness.

  ♪ Madness by Muse

  The next day, I woke up feeling like crap. No amount of rubbing relieved the itch in my eyes. Thankfully, I wouldn’t see anyone I knew, so I didn’t even have to bother with makeup or anything else that would indicate I cared. Determined to follow my itinerary, I drove to Gorman Falls. There, the Earth cried like me. Water cascaded in rivers and trickles down the face of the cliff. I devoted a whole day there to capturing the never-ending flow.

  When I finished, I continued on to the Cavern of Sonora. When I made my way inside the next morning, the cool air clung to my skin. In the darkness of the hollow, I lost myself in the vast cavity carved and eroded by water.

  Would the same thing happen to my heart? Would the grief I couldn’t seem to shake even a year later chisel a permanent crater in the organ that once burst with love?

  I spent too many hours drawing in the damp air and caught a chill. My fingers trembled to the point where I couldn’t properly grip my pencil any longer. With a sigh of resignation, I turned to head back to my hotel. Lying in bed that evening, a melodious chime alerted me to an incoming video call. When I accepted it, Beckett appeared on the screen clad in his crisp white lab coat, a stethoscope hanging around his neck and deep dimples appearing just for me.

  “Hey. Are you working tonight?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I’m taking a break right now, so I thought I’d check in
on my favorite patient and see how Texas was?”

  “Big,” I joked weakly.

  He rolled his eyes. “Lame, Isabelle. You can do better than that.”

  “Nope, sorry. That’s all I got tonight,” I murmured.

  His face moved closer to the screen. “You don’t look like you feel well. It’s been a while since your last checkup. Are you feeling OK?”

  “I’m just tired. I’ve had three full days of travel and creating. It’s draining,” I said with a shrug.

  “Maybe you should turn in for the night,” he suggested.

  “I think that’s a great idea. Thanks for checking in on me, Dr. Beckett.” I mustered up a tiny grin.

  “None of this doctor stuff, now. We’re friends, right?” He winked.

  We were friends. Maybe a little more. But it was complicated. He was my doctor. But we’d been on a couple of casual dates.

  “Yeah, Beckett. We’re friends. Thanks for checking on me, pal.” I tugged my blanket up as a chill ran through my body.

  “No problem, buddy,” he teased.

  “Bye,” I croaked out, eager to go to sleep.

  “Talk to you soon.”

  When the call ended, I collapsed against the pillows and fell into a deep sleep. The next morning, I couldn’t find the strength to walk, so I crawled to the bathroom. I had a fever and the chills. With a quick call to the front desk, I extended my room reservation and asked them to deliver some toast, juice and Tylenol. After eating, I went back to bed and slept all day.

  My phone woke me when it was dark outside. When I accepted the call, alarm filled Beckett’s face.

  “Isabelle, tell me what’s going on?” he asked in a tense voice.

  “I’m tired and don’t feel well. Maybe it’s a cold,” I groaned.

  “Have you run a fever?” Gone was Beckett, my friend teetering on the edge of more. In his place was Dr. Beckett, the guy who’d been in charge of my experimental treatments over the past countless months.

  “Yes.” I brushed damp strands of hair off my forehead.

  “Chills?”

  “Yes.” Just speaking of them made me shiver.

  “Nausea?”

  “Some.”

  “Hang tight. Stay put, and I’ll call you back in a few minutes,” his voice was authoritative. I didn’t have the energy to do anything else other than what he commanded.

  As I was dozing off, my phone went off again. Without preamble, he started talking, “I have a colleague who happens to be in the area. Her name is Dr. Rebecca Mitchell. She’s agreed to come by and evaluate you. She’ll be there in about fifteen minutes, OK?”

  “’K,” I muttered.

  “Isabelle, focus,” his tone was sharp. “I need for you to call down to the front desk and authorize them to give Rebecca a key, so she can get in if you fall asleep. Can you do that?”

  “Yes. Hold on.” I laid the phone down and picked up the room phone. My finger stabbed the zero button.

  “Front desk, how may I help you?” a pleasant voice asked.

  “This is Isabelle Clark in room 214. I’m not feeling very well. A Dr. Rebecca Mitchell is coming to check on me. I need for you to give her a key to my room in case I fall asleep before she gets here,” I mumbled.

  “Can you verify your address, phone number and credit card used to book your room?”

  Once I provided all my booking information, he agreed to give Dr. Mitchell a key to my room. I settled the receiver back in its cradle and picked up my cell phone. “They’re going to give her a key. I’m going to lie back down now, OK?”

  “OK, Isabelle. I’ll talk with you again soon.” Worry lines marred his handsome face. But I didn’t have the energy to try to ease his concerns.

  I felt like I’d just closed my eyes when a distant voice called my name. For several moments, I struggled to open my eyes. When I finally cracked them open, I was staring into the concerned face of a woman.

  “Isabelle, I’m Dr. Mitchell. Dr. Thomas sent me. Do you know where you are?” Her smooth fingers clasped my wrist.

  “Hotel in Sonora,” I croaked out.

  She pressed her cold stethoscope to my chest and listened intently.

  “Nothing too alarming. Lungs sound clear,” she said out loud.

  “How’s her blood pressure?” Beckett’s voice sounded alarmed. I looked around, confused. Where was Beckett? As my eyes searched for him, the lady doctor wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm and proceeded to squeeze the life out of it.

  “It’s a little high. Here, put this under your tongue.” She stuck a thermometer at me.

  Moments after holding it under my tongue, it beeped.

  “Temp’s 103.4.”

  “I think she’s been taking acetaminophen,” Beckett’s voice came again. I finally figured out he was on video call with the lady doctor.

  “Isabelle, have you been taking Tylenol?” the doctor asked as she flicked a light in front of my eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “When was your last dose?”

  “Um… I think four.” I wasn’t really sure. It was dark in the room. I barely moved when I took it.

  “She’s due for another dose. I’ll get that in her in just a minute,” Dr. Rebecca told Beckett.

  “Check her incision site,” he ordered.

  “Isabelle, I’m going to lift your shirt a little to check your incision. OK?” Her voice was soft and soothing. Thankfully, my illness had forced me to lose all my modesty when it came to doctors.

  “OK.”

  She pushed the covers low on my hips, then lifted the hem of my pajama shirt up above my belly button. Holding the phone over me, she showed Beckett my scar.

  “It looks inflamed,” he remarked.

  Her cool fingers touched my feverish skin. “The incision site is more feverish than the surrounding area.”

  She pressed gently with her hand around my abdomen. When she neared the site, I winced. “Ow.”

  “Marked tenderness in the area. Beckett, I think she needs to be admitted,” her tone was slightly concerned.

  “No,” I said emphatically and tried to sit up. “I don’t want to go to the hospital. I’m just tired and caught a cold or something when I was out in the damp air of the cavern.” I had spent enough time in hospitals. Unless there was no other option, I didn’t want to go back. Especially to a hospital far away from home.

  “Calm down. I’m on my way. I just need to make some calls,” Beckett said urgently.

  I peered at the phone screen. “Beckett, I don’t want to go to the hospital. Especially here with strangers.” I was nearly in tears.

  “It’s going to be OK. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Then we can figure out what to do. But you can’t stay in your room. If you go to the hospital, I can sign you out when I get there,” his voice pleaded.

  I adamantly shook my head but couldn’t speak because of a coughing fit.

  Dr. Mitchell sank down next to me and the phone, so both of us were on the screen. “How about this? I’ll stay here and keep an eye on you until Beckett can get here. And Beckett, if her condition worsens, I’ll drive her to the hospital myself.”

  I nodded.

  After she gave me some pills to swallow, I slipped into a deep sleep. Sometime later, the sound of voices pulled me from my slumber. Through blurry vision, I saw the lady doctor from last night and… Beckett. My movement must have caught his eye because he rushed over and began examining me. The lady doctor came over as well.

  “Beckett, it was great to see you again. I loved catching up with you half the night. But if you don’t need me anymore, then I’m going home to catch some sleep before my on-call shift starts. Isabelle, I’d say it was nice to meet you, but I hate having to meet people because they’re sick.” She offered me a warm smile as she stood from the couch where she’d been sitting with Beckett.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Beckett told her. Turning to me, he said, “I’ll be right back.” His hand brushed along my cheek.


  His arm rested along Rebecca’s waist as he walked her to the door. I watched as she turned towards him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. She held his hands in hers as they spoke in hushed tones. The two of them looked very familiar and at ease with each other.

  I closed my eyes and willed sleep to come with a new hurt in my heart. When I woke again, Beckett was watching me from the other side of the bed.

  “Hi,” he whispered.

  “Hey,” I mouthed. “How long was I out?” My mouth was so dry.

  “This time, over five hours. When I first got here last night, Rebecca said you’d been asleep for about four hours. Then once I got here, I checked you over, and you didn’t move an inch. You did wake up briefly after I’d been here for about five hours.”

  “I think I remember that.” I frowned, trying to grab hold of the details.

  “Once you woke up, Rebecca decided you were probably out of the woods, so she told you goodbye and left.” As he talked, he pressed his fingertips to my wrist, checking my pulse.

  Now I remembered everything. I’d thought the phone calls, texts and casual dates were leading somewhere with Beckett. But I was an idiot. He was with Rebecca. I was just a patient he’d formed a friendship with. That was why we hadn’t even kissed yet.

  “How did you get here so fast?” I wondered out loud.

  “I pulled some strings and flew on a private plane into the naval base here in Sonora. When I landed in the middle of the night, I caught a ride here.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the bedside table. After he unscrewed the lid, he held it up to my lips, and I sipped slowly—learned that lesson the hard way in the hospital months ago.

  “Did you sleep any?” I asked when I finally quenched my thirst.

  “No, I stayed up with Rebecca. Keeping an eye on you. We caught up on each other’s lives. I told her about the experimental research project you’re part of and shared your medical history, so we could make some decisions about what you needed.” He twisted his fingers together as he talked.