The Rock Star Next Door, A Modern Fairytale

by Lily Silver

  Steve arrived and was allowed in to see her as well.

  Two hours later, Jessie was released from the hospital. Lex carried her into his house from the car, ignoring her protests that she wasn’t an invalid and could walk quite well on her own. He deposited her gently on the leather couch, and lifted her hand to lips, kissing it tenderly.

  “You gave me quite a turn. And Jack, too.” He murmured, his soft azure eyes caressing her face. “You’re safe.”

  Jessie looked back at him with tears blurring her vision. Marcie is calling your mother. She’s going to tell her horrible lies about me. She choked back the pain rising in her throat. It made her chest hurt, and she let out a tortured moan.

  “You are safe, Jessica.” Lex assured her for what seemed the hundredth time that day. “No one can get to you. No one knows you are here, except Jack and the guys.”

  Jessie nodded, but didn’t dare open her mouth to enlighten him.

  She couldn’t explain it. She could only wait for the inevitable.

  No one wanted to align themselves with a family who had a history of mental illness. While Jessie’s maternal grandmother seemed normal, and her mother’s sister, there had been whispers growing up about great-grandma Delaney’s ‘delicate nervous condition’, and great grandfather Delaney committed suicide by slashing his throat in the bathtub during the Depression in the last century. In more recent family history, Jessie and Jack had a female cousin who had also killed herself a few years back, Aunt Rachel’s only daughter. Cousin Lucy left behind two small children and a grieving husband.

  Their mother was always threatening to commit suicide. She’d threatened them since Jessie’s earliest remembrance. She just never followed through with her threats, but used them to manipulate her husband and her three children. Marcie Delaney-Kelly refused to seek counseling or psychiatric help. In her mind, she was perfectly all right. It was the rest of the world that was wrong, out to get her, to ruin her life. The rest of the world, her children specifically, were to blame for her problems, for her unhappiness.

  Jack thought that possibly their own sister, Michelle, suffered from delusions and paranoia, but in a different manner than their mother. Michelle and her husband, David, were involved in a very strange religion, one that saw demons behind everything, from the children’s cartoons to the Catholic Church being the Whore of Babylon and the Pope the Antichrist as prophesied in the Bible. Michelle and David shunned mainstream society, had only Church friends and spent a great deal of their free time trying to convert the rest of the world to their own point of view by street preaching, prison ministries and even going door to door in residential areas to hand out religious tracts and invite the masses to their church.

  When Jessie and Jack were fourteen, just gawky, insecure teens, their sister embarrassed them at the county fair. Michelle stood just outside the gates with her husband and a few church friends. They were preaching the salvation message, but they were actually screaming insults at the passers-by, calling them sinners, adulterers, fornicators, and telling them they were going to hell if they didn’t repent. Jack and Jessie arrived at the fair gate with their friends, and seeing Michelle, decided to pretend they didn’t know her. Would she return the favor and let them be? No, she had to single them out in front of their friends by acknowledging them as family, and then tell them and their teenage friends that they all needed to repent of their wickedness or they would burn in an eternal fire. Someone had called the police on the street preachers, and they were forced to leave the fairgrounds or face arrest, but Jack and Jessie were humiliated by the experience. And Lex came from a nice, normal, middle class suburban family?

  He had no idea what he was getting into by asking Jessie to marry him. There was no way she could explain her bizarre family. If she did, he’d probably run. He wouldn’t want to have children with Jessie and her goofed up gene pool. And she wouldn’t blame him.

  The guest room at Lex’s house was a study in subtle shades of blue & beige, emulating the colors of the beach and the rolling sea. The luxurious down comforter on the bed was lush, rich velvet blue. Matching curtains framed the windows. The room had a masculine feel to it. An antique blond oak armoire was positioned across from the bed, a custom built item housing a large plasma TV and a DVR for the guest’s comfort. In the guest bathroom she found a sunken tub that could fit more than one person. The granite countertop and tub surround looked like polished grains of sand. Seashells were scattered about the bathroom, giving it a resort feel. The guest suite rivaled a hotel in comfort, something Jessie hadn’t expected in a bachelor’s home. The side window overlooked the ocean, a corner view as the master bedroom took up the premium beachfront vista.

  Lex hovered nearby as she slipped into her silk pajama pants and tank top. She slipped into the bed and settled into a comfortable recline with several feather pillows beneath her. Lex came to sit atop the covers beside her. He’d just made her a cup of herbal tea. She sat sipping the comforting warm liquid as they watched a romantic comedy. The tea tasted like licorice candy. Jessie loved the sharp, biting-sweet flavor as she loved black licorice candies. The sedative the doctor had given her in the ER was slowly enveloping her in a delicious lethargy as she cuddled against Lex. Through a distant haze she felt him brush her cheek with a brief kiss and whisper goodnight.

  She was in an ancient castle. Jessie walked through the hall, disorientated, not sure why she was here and what she was supposed to be doing. The place was familiar. She instinctively knew where she was going; toward the solar. She looked down at the odd crunching beneath her feet. There were rushes on the floor. Oh, yes, she forgot about those. They were there to sop up the mud and the dog droppings. She lifted the edge of her dress with one hand and stepped carefully around a moist spot that was either a spill from the kitchen or a mess from the master’s dogs.

  The dress . . . it was a soft mossy green fabric, simple but beautiful and elegant all the same. Jessie stopped walking and looked down at her attire with wonder. The long bell sleeves draped over her wrists, and an odd belt cinched her waist. Funny slippers with pointy toes completed the medieval fashion ensemble.

  “Julianna! There you are. Forsooth, child, do you want another beating? Her ladyship is in a brutish humor. Make haste, make haste, I say.” A woman poked her head out of an arched stone doorway. She was scowling at Jessie. Jessie almost laughed at the comical looking woman with her face poking out of a frothy white swathe of fabric. A cone shaped hat reminiscent of a witch’s hat sat on the woman’s head. It lacked of the characteristic brim of a witch’s hat. Long, sheer blue fabric floated down from the top of the cone. The woman waved insistently at Jessie, gesturing for her to come towards her.

  Jessie hurried to the door leading to the solarium. Geez, how did she know the name for this odd room? A platform was set up in the center of the room, sort of like a stage. On the platform were several elaborately carved chairs, and women were gathered there as if to hear a concert. Except the women, clad in elaborate silks and jewels, were on the stage, and the musicians were settled in the corner of the room, near the large mullioned windows.

  Musicians? She chanced a closer look at the four men with their instruments, only to be dragged roughly by the elbow to the platform by the woman in the mock blue witch’s hat. “Hurry it up, missy. I’ll not relish tending the welts again if her ladyship takes your slowness out of your hide!”

  Maude, that was her name, Jessie recalled. The older woman was in charge of the maids. Maude pushed Jessie toward the platform. Jessie held out the tray she’d been sent to the kitchen to retrieve for the lady, and approached the woman holding court in the center of the room. She gasped aloud, nearly shrieked at the sight of her mother sitting like a queen, preening and gloating, giving Jessie an evil gleam that promised a painful beating later, after the guests had retired for the evening.

  “Lady Marcella, where did you find these darling lads to entertain us?” The dark haired woman in the blue and gold brocade giggl
ed as she glanced with unbridled longing at the men in the corner.

  “The Troubadours are supported by Queen Eleanor’s court. I hired this band and asked them to come to us when last I was in Poitiers.”

  Troubadours? They were the medieval equivalent of rock stars; court musicians paid to entertain the ladies with songs of love. Jessie turned about to get a glimpse of them.

  “Julianna!” The lady Marcella screeched, sounding like a harpy. “Serve the ladies. Mercy alive, that girl is as dull as a pail of mop water.” Jessie shivered. That woman looked too much like her mother. The arrogant woman snapped her fingers, gesturing for Jessie to serve her friends the tray of pastries she held in her hands. Jessie just stood and stared at the lady, confused and disturbed by the uncanny resemblance to her mother.

  Maude yanked the tray from Jessie’s hand and served the women in her stead, anxious to please the woman of the house, who ruled with iron claws.

  “Out with you, to your room.” Marcella/Mother shrieked, her tone like an agitated seagull. “I’ll deal with you later.” Her narrowed grey gaze sent chills down Jessie’s spine. “Out I say.” She continued to shriek when Jessie didn’t move. “Or I will have you physically removed. Guards!”

  Jessie stirred. She turned quickly and stepped down from the wooden platform. Her dress caught, and she put her hands out as she was falling to the hard stone floor.

  “Easy, Mademoiselle.” A large hand caught her about the waist and she was lifted from her ungraceful descent by a pair of very solid arms.

  “Thank you, sir.” She mumbled, embarrassed by her clumsy movements in a room full of well dressed courtiers, and by her mistress’ sharp rebuke in front of them all. Her face was hot with humiliation.

  “Have a care, little Julianna. I should hate to see that pretty skin marred by her ladyship’s lash.” That voice, she knew that voice; Lex? She gazed up into the handsome face of the lead musician, and sure enough, it was her Lex, that blue-eyed, dark, sexy rock legend . . . only he was wearing a tunic and hose. His face was the same, but his clothing was like hers, ancient, like something out of Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves. He wore a cap on his head with a feather in it, and a knee length green cape.

  “How do you know my name, good sir?” She found herself replying. It was like being in a movie, being dropped in a movie and expected to know your lines perfectly.

  “Oh, I inquired, to be sure, as soon as I caught sight of those lovely long auburn locks, I said to myself ‘Hmmm, perhaps this won’t be another boring tour’, and I set out to find the answers to all my questions.” He walked her toward the exit as he spoke, with one hand on her elbow. “Forsooth, my beauty, your mistress commands us both, but let us meet again when we both are free, after midnight, in the second gallery.”

  Behind them, the shrill voice of the ‘lady’ directing the musicians to begin their labors echoed in the large chamber. “You there, leave my idiot maid be and begin to earn your purse, Gaston.”

  “Duty shrieks, and I, a lowly entertainer must oblige.” He murmured. With that, he pressed her hand and then raised it to his lips, planting a soft kiss across her knuckles.

  “Lex.” Jessie gasped, as the confusing image faded. She sat up in the bed, choking slightly, feeling as if she’d been jerked quickly out of another life.

  Duncan, her faithful Scottie, nuzzled her with his nose, sensing her distress. She gazed about in the semi-darkness with anxiety, uncertain of her surroundings. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she could make out a few shadows on the wall and the glow of a light behind the rectangular window shades.

  She heard footsteps approach and then a faint murmur. “Jessie?” That familiar verbal caress as he spoke her name confirmed Jessie’s suspicions. She was next door, at Lex’s house. Her mind was still groggy, as if someone had stuffed it with toweling.

  The light beside the bed was switched on. Lex, the real one, not the medieval dream Lex, stood nearby wearing only a pair of black silk boxing shorts. He leaned forward to caress her face and cup her cheek as his dark, shadowed features drew near to examine her. “You were dreaming, sweetheart?”

  Jessie nodded. She swallowed in an attempt to moisten her throat. It felt like someone put sand in her mouth while she slept. Her senses were all fuzzy and detached. Must be the sedative. Instantly, she remembered the ER visit, the doctor’s concern for her heart, and the sedative they’d given her. No wonder she felt like crap on a tostada shell; refried beans and all.

  “We were in a movie together.” She explained, and then winced at the rough sound of her voice. She tried to clear it and reached up as if to soothe the scratchiness from it by her touch.

  Lex left her side and went into the small refrigerator next to the TV closet. He opened the door, momentarily filling the room with the golden glow of modern life, the fridge light. He grabbed a bottled water and returned to her side, twisting the cap and then handing it to her as he sank down on one knee on the bed beside her. “A movie, huh?”

  Jessie took a sip of the water and let the moisture soothe her throat before she answered. “Yeah, a medieval one. You were a singer and I was a lady’s maid in an old castle. I wish I could have heard you sing. You were just about to and then I woke up.”

  Lex released a long, low sigh. He was frowning. His fingers drew circles on his thigh, as if he were contemplating her words carefully. “That wasn’t a dream.” He said quietly, in a voice that was fraught with unpleasantness. “It must have been the drug they gave you at the hospital. It wasn’t a weird dream, Jessie. It was our past life together.”

  Jessie gasped. She rubbed one eye with the heel of her hand, and took another long sip of that cooling water. Crap. This was getting too intense, again. Too scary and deep.

  “You were a lady’s maid. I was a court musician, a troubadour.” He admitted, now placing an arm about her shoulders, as if he sensed she needed it. “It was during the court of Eleanor of Aquitaine. I travelled a circuit, singing ballads for wealthy patrons. We fell in love. I asked you to marry me. You accepted. We were going to run away to Paris and be married. Actually, I lived in Paris. You were going to run away from your mistress.”

  Jessie sat up straighter. He was talking about her dream as if he’d been in it, as if it were a scene from an old movie. She touched her heart, fearing he knew the answer to her next question. “And, what was the name of the lady I served.” She prayed silently as she waited for him to answer. Please, please say you don’t know. Please. . . please let this all be a queer joke, a coincidence, a mind trick!

  Lex didn’t answer right away, giving Jessie a glimmer of hope. He appeared stumped by her question. His arm slipped about her shoulders, and he drew her close. “The name eludes me, but I’ll ever forget that vindictive bitch or what she did to you.”

  What she did to me? Jessie cringed. This was just too close for comfort. The woman on the dais shrieking at her looked an awful lot like Jessie’s mom, back in her younger days. Lady Marcella had been thirtyish, with long blonde hair, but with the face of a horse, with coarse features and angry gray eyes--yep, just like mom.

  Lex leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her brow.

  Jessie squirmed, pulling back from him to glance with uncertainty into his shadowed eyes. “What did she do to me?”

  “She found out we were planning to run away to Paris and be married by my uncle, a Catholic priest. She--” He looked away with unease. “She stopped us.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sunlight streamed through vertical blinds, and the constant rolling surf could be heard in the quiet of the room. Duncan was no longer lying at Jessie’s feet. She thought she heard the clattering of his toenails on the Spanish tile flooring beneath the stairs. He must have realized she was awake, as within moments of her first stirring, his I. D. tags jingled as he jaunted into the room with his tail held high.

  Jessie patted the bed, and her faithful Scottie bounced up to greet her with excited kisses. Moments later, Lex entered bearin
g a tray of steaming food.

  “You didn’t.” The thought of him cooking for her was unsettling. She didn’t want to be fussed over or treated like an invalid she just wanted everyone to forget the stupid incident at the hospital yesterday.

  “No. I’m just the delivery boy. I told Inez you love Mexican so she whipped up some breakfast burritos.” He set the wicker tray across her lap and brushed her cheek with a soft peck. “They’re spicy.”

  Jessie blushed. After last night she wanted to fade away into the wallpaper and not have to face Lex or be reminded of their bizarre conversation regarding her dream.

  “I have a few things to take care of this morning. Stay in bed. Doctor’s orders. Inez will be up in bit to check on you.” Lex placed the television remote on her tray, patted Duncan and then left her to her breakfast.

  As Jessie finished the incredible burritos she heard the phone ring downstairs. Lex had left or so she thought. She heard Inez call to him from the hallway, saying it was his mother calling from Phoenix.

  His mother. Marcie’s threat fresh in her memory, Jessie bolted out of bed in a panic, turning about the room as she searched for her clothing. She had nothing except the silk nightgown and robe the guys had brought over for her. Last night, groggy from the drugs, it didn’t matter what she was wearing. One thought seized her; I have to get out of here.

  Where could she go? Where could she hide from her psychotic mother?

  Jessie clutched the skimpy silk fabric about her, hugging her shoulders as she concentrated on keeping calm. Yes, she would just collect her things and walk out the door, across the driveway to her own home. She wasn’t a prisoner here. Jack and Steve understood about mom. They’d protect her. There was no need to explain anything to the guys in the band . . . and they would never leave her over it.