The Rock Star Next Door, A Modern Fairytale

by Lily Silver

  “Keep your voice down.” She commanded. “We’re just talking.”

  “Lex is looking for you. I don’t know, man, he’s getting most of the media attention. I thought it was supposed to be our party.”

  “No, it’s Kyra and Mike’s party, Jack. We’re here for her, remember?” Jessie wanted to shake him senseless and scream at him. Why did he always do this to her? Jack was infatuated with the glitz of Hollywood, the heady sound of camera shutters snapping as their light flashed across his face. And worst of all---Jack was becoming a slave to the magic powder flowing freely in the City of Angels.

  “Why don’t you go find Lex for us?” Steve told him patiently, as if speaking to a dull child. “Find Lex and bring him here, okay? Think you can remember that, Jack?”

  Jack nodded and shuffled off into the crowd.

  “Don’t worry. He’ll forget as soon as he’s ten feet away.”

  Jessie was sick inside. What could she do? How could she face that man now, or worse, the crowded thong and all the cameras? “This is crazy. Why would he do this?”

  “Attention. Media hype. People in this town do it all the time.”

  “He could have asked me first, or told me after it was all a big media joke. Instead, he kissed me--really kissed me, Steve, like he meant it.”

  “Want me to talk to him?”

  “No . . . I don’t know . . .” Jessie buried her face in his tuxedo.

  “Maybe the guy’s fallen for you. I knew I would, if . . .” His sienna gaze was tinged with sadness. “This is a party, Jess, a celebration not a funeral. So let’s celebrate.” Steve pulled her out onto the dance floor.

  As they stepped together, parted and came together again to the techno beat, Jessie looked up into Steve’s handsome, narrow face, framed by a stylish mustache and goatee that made it seem even more attractive. They’d been best friends since 7th grade, soul mates, sharing every secret, their deepest loves and their deepest hurts. At times, she felt like Steve was her true twin, not Jack.

  Steve offered her a smile. She relaxed, letting him guide her about the dance floor as the musicians played a swing song. As he moved them about the dance floor in practiced moves he knew by heart, Jessie worked through the confusion Lex’s peculiar behavior wrought in her.

  “What should I do?” She said when Steve pulled her close.

  “Act like it never happened. Or better yet, laugh at it, as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world, turn it on him.” Steve replied and shoved her away.

  Jessie gazed across their extended arms at her partner with awe. That was a good idea. A very good idea.

  When Steve pulled her back into his arms, she said, “You’re probably right. He’s been out of circulation for a long time. Maybe he’s just playing Ruby Star, trying to get exposure, weird, huh?”

  Steve’s brows rose with surprise. “This is L.A., Jess.”

  When the dance ended, applause rose about them as all admired Steve’s secret passion of dancing. Patrick Swayze was his idol. He knew every line from Dirty Dancing and every song and dance move from the movie by heart.

  Jessie stayed with Steve for the rest of the evening, hoping Lex wouldn’t find her and drag her away, hoping the vultures wouldn’t descend to interrogate her regarding their supposed betrothal. Relief came when the media were shuffled out of the party a short time later, prohibited from watching the stars private revels after being given a short time to mingle and interview the famous guests.

  “May I?”

  Jessie turned to find an elite member of the rock world, none other than Big Boss, the rap singer, asking her for a dance. He was six feet seven, thin as a rail, and wore dark shades even in the dimly lit room. She smiled at him, relieved that it wasn’t the man she was trying to avoid. As they danced, he talked to her about her latest tour. Jessie felt herself relax with the handsome black singer. After the dance, he led her to a table. They sat together, discussing the merits of touring by bus over using the airways, a friendly exchange. Out of the corner of her eye, Jessie realized that Lex was watching her from across the room. And, worse, he was talking to Jack; a very inebriated Jack.

  Against all logic, her stomach did a flip-flop. A warm feeling enveloped her at the mere glance Lex gave her, a dangerous, compelling, enchanted look.

  “--Detroit, man, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve played in Motown.” her companion was saying, but Lex’s smoldering gaze captured her attention. Jessie nodded politely, offered the expected utterances at the appropriate times, all the while wondering what her brother was discussing so intently with Lex.

  * * *

  “Hasn’t been on a date for over two years. The last guy,” Jack slurred. “. . . he was a pervert, a real creep. Just watch it, she’s my little sister, dude.”

  “I suppose it’s too early to propose.” Lex quipped, finding the young man beside him amusing in his heavily intoxicated state.

  “Whoa?” Jack raised clumsy hands as if to stop a charging horse.

  “Easy, kid.” Lex joked, patting the boy’s shoulder, his heart lighter than it had been in what seemed years. “Do you believe in fate, Jack?”

  “I believe we make our own fate, good or bad.” Jack’s aqua eyes became hardened stones. “If you’re after my sister, let me give you a little advice . . .” He leaned forward, as if offering Lex some persuasive tidbit.

  Lex leaned down, so that his head was level with Jack’s

  “Dude, you hurt my sister, you’re dead meat. Understand?”

  Lex remained frozen, unsure of how to respond. It was gothic, pure mob mentality, almost hilarious in its morbid insinuation. And yet, as Lex looked into Jack’s eyes, he realized in that brief instant that Jack Kelly meant every word. His eyes were stone cold sober, no longer lost in the haze of cocaine, or whatever the kid had used to get through the evening.

  “And I have a word of advice for you.” Lex straightened. “Stop reading my publicists fables. I’m not the same Lex as the creature on stage. I have no intention of hurting your sister.”

  “So you don’t get off deflowering virgins on the steps of mausoleums, by the light of the full moon, like in Graveyard Ecstasy.” Jack lit a cigarette, sucking in and then puffing out as he spoke. “I loved that video. I think it was your best.”

  “No more than Stephen King terrorizes the neighborhood children in real life.” Lex returned. “I need a martini.” He swept an arm out, inviting Jack to join him at the bar. “What will you have?”

  “Surprise me.” Jack shrugged. “No, wait . . . a Kamikaze.”

  “Are you driving tonight?”

  “Nope. Limo, just like everyone else in this town.”

  “That’s a comfort.” Lex leaned against the bar and raised an arm. When the bar keep returned, he ordered. “A dirty martini for me, and a kamikaze for the kid--young man.” Lex amended, reminding himself of Jack’s threat not to make him mad. He didn’t actually believe the kid would harm him, but he intended to befriend Jack so he could learn more about his elusive beauty from her twin brother.

  “Tell me, Jack.” Lex sipped his martini, “Do you always threaten your sister’s would be suitors?”

  Jack swallowed his shot in one quick jerk of the wrist, and then signaled the bartender for another. “Hell, yeah. You have no idea the scum that used to come on to her when we lived in downtown LA.”

  “I can imagine.” Lex agreed, as visions of blue haired, earring nosed, punkers filled his mind, replete with dog collars and knuckle armor. “A rough place. But, Jack, my friend, look around you, this is the upper class, surely you don’t think--”

  “Then, there was Kevin. Steve broke his arm, which is pretty awesome when you look at the ol’ bean pole over there, considering Kevin was a stunt man.”

  “Why did Steve find it necessary to break his arm?” Lex turned his head from the bar to the dance floor, where the slender youth was cavorting with a pudgy brunette singer of nominal renown.

  “He was--because Jess-
-oh, never mind.” Jack’s jaw clamped shut. He swayed slightly as the alcohol surged through his system.

  “Here, sit.” Lex pulled a stool up behind the languorous body. “Can you keep a secret?” The young man nodded. “I’m going to marry your sister. Will you help me?”

  Jack frowned and took to looking Lex up and down with surprise. “Are you nuts, man? You just met her.”

  “In this life. Do you believe in reincarnation?”

  “I believe in this.” Jack leaned sideways and snorted the offering a white powder by the acquaintance that suddenly appeared with a tray in his hand. Jack’s eyes watered as he turned back to Lex and their conversation. The man offered some to Lex as well but moved on when he declined.

  “Everything else is subjective . . .” Jack slurred. “God, truth, love, beauty, salvation . . . sexual preference . . .” His eyes glazed over. “What was the question, Dude . . . ?”

  Chapter Five

  “Oh, Damn.” Jack moaned, rolling over in his own bed as Ozzy stood up and began washing his face. “Crimeny dog. What did you do, pee in my mouth while I was asleep?”

  He sat up and bent over from the pain and nausea. It wasn’t the first time he’d awakened in his bed not knowing how he got there. Not remembering the events of the night before. He reached over to the nightstand and pressed the intercom. “Hey, Jess . . . Steve . . . anybody? Bring me a beer, quick.”

  He rolled over onto his back, arms outstretched, staring at the ceiling. Ozzy’s wrinkled face filled his vision, as the pug stood with front paws on his chest, sniffed him, and then gave a worried moan.

  “Aw, buddy. You’re right. I gotta quit the hard stuff. I will. I promise.”

  Ozzy sat back then, gave a woof of approval, as if he actually understood what his master said. The curly tail wagged affectionately.

  The door opened. Jess peeked in. She entered bearing a tray. The scent of food sent Jack racing for his private bathroom. When he could bring up no more, he rinsed his mouth, grimaced at the ragged image in the mirror and returned on wobbling legs to the bedroom. Jess sat next to Ozzy with the tray on her lap, smiling at him pleasantly.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He growled, and then reached up to cradle his aching head from the sound of his voice.

  “It’s called breakfast. I made your favorite, blueberry pancakes.”

  He had to admit, it looked delicious. A familiar rumbling grew in his stomach. “I asked for a brew.” He offered gruffly as he eased down onto the bed and let her place the tray across his lap. “How did we get home last night?”

  “Limo, remember? The hired limo for the band. I believe orange juice is the order of the moment. Jack, you have to eat. We have to talk. You’re killing yourself.”

  He waved her comment away with his fork. Bacon teased his tongue, and Ozzy's big black nose edged nearer. “Get out of here.” He scolded the dog. “Down, Ozzy.” The dog looked up at him, as if to say, surely you don’t mean it, you’re teasing me. “Down. He growled, and the little dog withered away with a wounded expression.

  “Jack, we need to talk.”

  “Okay, I admit, I need to cut back on the partying. I will. I promise. Just ask Ozzy, there. He said the same thing just before you came in.”

  His sister smiled indulgently. “Well, there’s that, too. It wasn’t first on the agenda. I meant about last night.”

  “Hmmmm.” Jack reveled in the sweetness of his sister’s offering, chewing thoughtfully before commenting. “I should take a camcorder with me so I’ll know what I’m guilty of before you start interrogating me.”

  “Damn.” Jess stood up and paced the room. “I was hoping you could tell me what you two were talking about so secretively in the corner of the bar.”

  “Who was I with?” Jack felt the pancakes go solid in his gullet. “I swear, Jess, whatever I said, I didn’t mean it. I'll call Marty. We’ll write a retraction for the papers, we’ll find a way to get around it.”

  “What are you talking about, Jack? You sat with Lex for over an hour, whispering, and looking me over, like a couple of Russian spies. I’d like to know what you were discussing with him.” She looked worried. Too worried.

  “Oh, that. Guy stuff.” He tried to sound casual, so she’d get off his case. After all, he couldn’t remember even being with Lex, so why should she be so worked up, unless . . . something happened between them. “Did you two get into a fight?”

  “I wish it were that simple. The jerk told the press he knew the first time he saw me I was the girl he was going to marry. Can you believe it?”

  “He must be serious, then.”

  “Jack.” Jessie sank down on the bed, upsetting his tray. He scrambled to save his pancakes from a bath of orange juice.

  He lifted the plate just in time to avoid as the bright liquid flooding the tray on his lap. “Meatloaf proposed to his wife after only knowing her for nine days and they’ve been married twenty some years.”

  “That was back in the 80’s. Hello? They’re divorced. Happily ever after, not so much. If you’re going to quote trivia at me then at least use something from this century.” Jessie sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him. She leaned forward to prop her head in her hands. This was going nowhere. He wasn’t getting the point. Jack was crazy if he believed she should waltz off with Lex as if they lived in fairy tale.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Jack’s blunt question pierced the air, making her sit up straight again to defend her stance.

  “How would I know? We just met, had two dates?” Jessie turned to face him, unable to believe Jack could so calmly accept a near stranger telling the world he wanted to marry her, without asking her first.

  “You read those lame romances where Mr. Right rides in on a white steed and sweeps the girl off her feet, carrying her away to his castle to be ravished forever: you devour them. Embrace life, Jess, stop hiding from it.”

  “I can’t believe you’re siding with him.”

  “I’m not siding with him. Maybe he was drunk, maybe it just slipped out. I’ve been there, gone goo-goo over some girl and made an ass of myself in public. Just quit freakin’ out and give the guy a chance. Maybe he’s your prince. You won’t find out hiding in my room.”

  “I’m not hiding.” Jessie vaulted from the bed and turned to confront him with her arms crossed, her feet firmly planted on the carpet. Lex called earlier to invite her to join him for lunch next door. She wasn’t sure she could face him after last night.

  Jack merely looked at her.

  “Okay, so maybe I am.” She turned on her heel and left her brother’s room. “Come on, Duncan.” The Scottie followed her to her own room. Once there, Jessie glanced at herself in the mirror briefly. If Lex imagined he wanted to marry her, he should see her like this, hair wild, face bare, lacking even the slightest traces of mascara or concealer. She was pretty much betting the cat that he wouldn’t be attracted to a plain girl like this when his last girlfriend had been that glitzy fashion model.

  “Hey, Duncan, time for your walk.” The Scottie did his usual Celtic jig, jumping and turning himself about in circles. Ozzy came tromping out from Jack’s room, barking with excitement. “Okay, I guess he should meet the whole clan.”

  * * *

  “It was brilliant, Lex, pure genius.” His manager’s voice crowed over the phone.

  Lex sighed, castigating himself yet again for his rash statement to the press.

  “It made front page news. CNN and the Today show picked it up. Our office is getting calls like you wouldn’t believe. People are tweeting it, for God’s sake!”

  Damn it. Lex cursed for the hundredth time today as Dave’s voice rambled on, praising his bold play at publicity, once again extolling the virtues of exploiting the press to your own advantage. It was an old lecture; one Lex never thought he’d paid too much mind to it, until last night.

  “So, is there going to be a wedding, you old dog? Or is this just a media stunt?”

  “It�
�s real. But I have yet to convince the girl.”

  “Well, either way, it won’t hurt your career.”

  Just my chances with Jessie. Lex groaned inwardly.

  “I have to go. I have company.” Lex hung up the phone and went to the glass patio door to greet Jessie and her dogs.

  “Sorry I’m late.” She smiled shyly. “Too much champagne. I overslept.”

  “I thought maybe you forgot.” Or were scared off. Lex fingered the small ring in his ear, turning it around as he drank in the sight of her, fresh and unpretentious in an oversized Brewers T-Shirt and baggy cargo pants. Casual. Perfect. Her glorious hair was swept up in a neat ponytail. “Who is this?” He bent to pet the dogs as their leashes wound about both their legs.

  “Ozzy, down.” Jessie snapped as the little pug jumped up to his knees to lick his face at the slightest inking of attention. “Sorry, this is Jack’s dog, Ozzy. And this--oh--no--Duncan. Stop that.” She yanked the chain but not before the Scottie lifted his leg and let loose a golden stream on Lex’s pant leg and his foot.

  Lex stood from his crouched position with a grimace.

  “I’m sorry. He’s never done that before.” Jessie smirked. Her cheeks grew pink as she restrained the obvious laughter bubbling up in her eyes.

  “I’ll just change into something else.” Lex smiled, backing inside to make his escape. After rinsing his leg in the bathtub, he donned a pair of denim shorts and flip-flops, intending to suggest a walk with the dogs before inviting them into his home.

  Just the mention of the word walk transformed the lethal black urninator into a whirling dervish. He cocked an eyebrow at the silly little dog dancing in circles and jumping two feet off the patio as if he had springs on his feet.

  “It’s the magic word.” Jessie explained. “We don’t dare say it, unless we intend to carry it out. Right Duncan? Go for a walk?” She laughed as Duncan’s efforts became that much more pronounced; he added barking to the sideshow while his companion, Ozzy, emitted a string of pathetic groans, wiggling with delightful anticipation.