LOW: A Rockstar Romance

by Lux,Vivian

  "Nope." My stepdad grinned. "First and foremost because I would never admit you were right, Sunshine. It's in the parent's code."

  "Oh yeah? Has Mom read that? Because she tells me I'm right all the time."

  "I was wrong. It's the step-parent's code."

  I stuck my tongue out at him.

  "And besides, your mom would agree with me," he went on, ignoring me. "We wouldn't have called and interrupted your date. That's not how we roll."

  "I thought we were a family and we supported each other."

  "Yeah Sunshine. This was us supporting you for once."

  He nodded once.

  I swallowed and nodded back.

  And that was that.

  That's how discussions went in my family. Growing up, I was always aghast when my friends would talk about hours' long, screaming fights with their parents. Mom and Greg never did that to me. I said my piece. They said theirs and then the matter was settled.

  "Anything you need help with?" I asked, scraping a chair across the floor and plopping myself into it.

  "Hand me that wrench?"

  I looked where he was pointing, closed my eyes, and took a guess as to which metal thingie was the wrench. I handed it to him, and he nodded his appreciation while furrowing his brow.

  "You know that I am perfectly capable of driving to the store and buying you another one of those, right?" I pointed out. "You don't have to repair everything. We live in Whittier, not 1930s Oklahoma."

  I knew this was a futile point. Greg loved nothing more than tinkering with busted electronics, worrying at them for days on end until finally something clicked and he could triumphantly call us into the room to demonstrate his mastery over objects. It was a trait he had passed to his son. Max was already showing signs of tinkering, though the things he tried to fix tended to stay broken. In a million pieces.

  "It's Saturday, Sunshine," Greg said, his tongue poking the side of his mouth. "Relax."

  "Like you?"

  "If you say so."

  "Teach me your ways, old man."

  My stepfather grinned. "If you haven't learned them by now, then there's no getting through to you," he growled in mock seriousness. I laughed.

  There was a sound upstairs, a herd of elephants trampling across a pile of dishes. Greg raised his eyebrows at the din. "Well, here's something you can help with. Max is up. He's going to want his Froot Loops and I'm in the middle of all this."

  I stood up. "You got it."

  Max appeared in the doorway rubbing his eyes. His fine, sandy brown hair was sticking up at crazy angles all over his head, especially in the back where it stood straight up, like peacock's tail.

  He was so freaking cute I could barely stand it.

  "Hey bud, can I have a hug?" I asked, holding out my arms.

  My brother shuffled silently to me and turned his body to the side, allowing me to hug him but not hugging me back. A year ago this would have bothered me, especially after how he'd clung to me last night. Now I knew he was most likely touched out from cuddling, and feeling overloaded. I was grateful that he loved me enough to let me have the hug I craved. I wondered how much effort it was costing him to stand here.

  "Hey Maximus," Greg called holding up his palm. Max wound up and gave his dad a bruising high-five. The little ghost of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth and he started to reach for the pieces of doorbell in front of his father.

  I moved quickly to redirect him. "Want some breakfast, dude?" I asked, knowing that he wouldn't answer me, but he would most likely follow me into the kitchen. I set out the same breakfast he always ate; Froot Loops in the purple plastic bowl, milk in his orange cup and the vitamin gummies from the red jar, not the green one. He plopped his little bony butt directly on the table and kicked his feet as he ate his Froot Loops one by one, staring out the window at the sky.

  Last night with Low was a fantasy.

  This was reality.

  And there was nothing wrong with that.

  "What should we do today, little man?" I asked my brother.

  "Go to park?" he ventured hopefully.

  I smiled and ruffled his messy hair. "Okay, bud. Let's go to the park."

  Chapter 26

  Low

  "Hello? Low? Did you fucking fall asleep?"

  My whole body twitched awake. "No, no man. Sorry," I mumbled into my phone. Then I closed my eyes again.

  Keith sighed explosively. "Did you hear a word I just said?"

  I blinked and rolled to the side, and thought for a minute. "Nope," I finally confessed. "Missed it completely." I rubbed my face with my hand. "Honestly I don't even remember answering the phone. Why the hell are you calling me so early?"

  "It's eleven AM! Why the hell were you up so late last night, huh? I noticed you didn't head home when the rest of the guys did."

  "And girl," I corrected, reminding him of my sister's existence.

  "No, you headed back up the stage like your ass was on fire. Were you meeting someone?" Keith sounded like he wanted to come over here for the express purpose of elbowing me suggestively. "Having a bit of fun with your newfound fame, you dog?"

  I closed my eyes again, trying to recall the nice dream Keith's call had woken me from. Something about spotlights and warm lips and....

  Zoe.

  Shit.

  Suddenly I was remembering more than the way the white glare of the spotlight got tangled in her hair. Instead, I was remembering the promise I'd made just before I fell into bed.

  I need to end this.

  I wrenched my mind back to the present. "What were you calling about, Keith?"

  Keith cleared his throat. "As I already mentioned," he said pointedly, "Florian Wyss is looking for a new spokesperson."

  "What the ever-loving fuck is a Gregorian Wisp?" I wanted to go back to thinking about Zoe's face as she came.

  "Boy you really can't take the boy out of Buffalo, can you?" Keith snorted. "Florian Wyss, the Swiss watchmakers? They make watches that last like three hundred years or something?"

  "Still not following."

  "A watch, Lowell. How do you feel about posing for pretty pictures while wearing a watch that costs more than most people's mortgage?"

  "I don't wear watches," I told him. "I'm a fucking drummer, they get in the way."

  "You're more than just a drummer now, baby." He sounded like he was laughing at me.

  "Yeah, how about no," I said, irritated. "Not my scene."

  "Okay," I heard the rustling of paper, and then Keith clearing his throat. "Well, I hope you're fully awake now because I have about fifty billion more offers for you. Modeling jobs, endorsement contracts... oh, hey look at this, somebody wants to give you half a million to come to their club opening," Keith said. He couldn't keep the delighted sounding giggle out of his voice.

  "Hey, Keith?" I interrupted him. "How about no?"

  "To which one?"

  "To all of them. I'm not a model. I'm a drummer." I really fucking needed to get that forehead tattoo.

  "You can say no to anything you want, baby. I'm just not really sure people will want to hear it."

  "What you mean?"

  Keith sighed, and I heard the creak of his desk chair as he sat back on it. "Here's the thing, I get it. You and I, we've been working together a while now. I get you. You're a behind-the-scenes guy, and all this attention...." He trailed off into silence, making wonder what he was going to say before he thought better of it. "Yeah I get it. It's got to be fucking with your head." His desk chair creaked again. "But Low, you got to listen to me, baby. You have got to take control of your image. You're a commodity now, your popularity has gotten wildly out of hand. If you don't rein it in by saying yes to one or more of these offers, then... well let's just say your image won't be yours anymore."

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" I demanded. A creeping, crawling, sliding sensation inside of my stomach was making me feel ill.

  "I'm saying, if people want you, people are going
to have you, one way or another. You can either give it to them on your terms or give them nothing and risk them taking whatever they can get. And if they take it, well, then it's out of your hands."

  "What's it?"

  "Your image."

  "I don't have an image," I seethed. Fuck, I sounded like a petulant child. I looked down and saw that I had balled up the sheets into my fist.

  "Then they'll give you one. They'll dig around your personal life for scraps and they'll craft an image for you. Then they'll hold it up to the world as the real Lowell Stowe." Keith paused. "And if they do that, I can guarantee it won't look like anything like the person you think you are."

  So my manager was resorting to scare tactics now. "I think you're being really fucking paranoid," I scoffed. "Do you really want your cut this bad, Keith? I thought you were better than this."

  "Listen, I've seen it happen before." Never had I heard Keith sounding so earnest, and that scared me a little. "These meteoric rises, when suddenly someone becomes the 'it guy,' or 'it girl,' or... whatever, 'it couple.' Some people, like say the Kardashians, they know how to work it, how to keep in the public eye, and have it be on their terms. Other people, like more than I can count, they don't know how to play the game, and the end result is that the game plays them. They get washed up, chewed up, spit out, and are left as nothing more than a punchline when the game is over."

  I took a deep breath but the knot in my chest wouldn't release. It only gripped me tighter. "I didn't want this," I told Keith. "I never wanted this."

  "Yeah, but you've got it now. So how are you going to deal with it?"

  "I'll let you know," I said. Then I hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

  Something I've never done before.

  I needed to clear my fucking head. A run was the only thing that stood a chance of giving me clarity. But there had been paparazzi camped out across the street from my building for weeks now, ever since the ad went viral. And those fuckers would follow me and get in my way.

  There was no way I was getting a good sweat in if I stayed in my neighborhood. I needed to go run somewhere...normal. Someplace where I could blend in and be a regular guy.

  I grabbed my keys and headed downstairs to the garage. With any luck, I could leave without anyone seeing me and giving chase.

  Fuck this rising star bullshit, I thought, leaning back in the driver's seat. A fleeting, wistful thought scudded across my consciousness. It was useless to regret the past and the decisions you made, I believed this with all of my heart. I only looked forward. The past was too fucked up to be worth a second glance.

  But still, I thought, I liked my life before this ad took it over.

  I want things to go back the way they were.

  But then I'd never have met Zoe.

  But I'm going break that off.

  When was I going to do that?

  Soon. As soon as possible. As soon as I can.

  As soon as I am able to.

  Chapter 27

  Zoe

  As I pulled on his shoe, Max reached out and pressed his finger against the freckle on my arm, his eyes filled with curiosity.

  His little nail dug into my skin. "Ow! Buddy, stop that! It hurts!" I cried, snatching my arm away.

  "Zoe hurts," he echoed, looking perturbed, and a little horrified.

  Then he broke out into a wide, cheesy smile.

  I couldn't help but reflexively smile back...and then I realized what he was up to. "Aw bud, are you trying to make me feel better after hurting me?"

  "Zoe feel better."

  "Come here you little booger." I gathered my brother into my arms, ignoring his stiffness and wriggling. "You're such a love."

  He squirmed and planted his arms against my chest and pushed away. I laughed and set him down and he ran right back to the door, turning eagerly. "Want to go to the park?" he ventured, eyes shining with hope.

  It was the forty-seventh time he'd repeated this request.

  I'd been keeping count.

  He'd been standing by the door for two whole hours now. He stayed there all through the long, terrible hour it took me to eat breakfast, take a shower and get dressed. He'd stayed there while I helped my mom clean up from breakfast and helped Greg sweep all of the excess doorbell parts off of the dining room table and into a plastic bin. My mom dressed him by the door. I brushed his teeth by the door. Greg packed a bag full of snacks and wipes while Max waited there by the door.

  Once I'd told him we were going to the park, there was no deterring him. The kid had an Olympian force of will. If I could have him send out resumes and cover letters for me, I'd have a job in no time.

  Instead, I sighed and smiled at him. "You were a patient little guy, and I know waiting is hard. Guess what?"

  His eyes got huge.

  "It's time to grab your shoes!" I cheered.

  He gave a high-pitched squeal and ran to get his shoes from their place in the hall closet. His fine motor delays made the Velcro difficult to fasten by himself, so he skidded back to me and plopped his butt down into my lap so I could put them on for him.

  "Okay! We're finally going!" I called to Greg and my mom.

  "Be a good listener, Max!" my mother called from the kitchen.

  "No dying!" Greg admonished us, coming over to kiss us both on the forehead. "That goes for both of you!"

  "You're a dork," I teased.

  "Least I'm in good company." He ruffled my hair on purpose.

  "Thanks, Pops. You just undid all my efforts with the straight-iron." I grabbed an elastic off my wrist and snagged my hair back into a quick, sloppy ponytail.

  "Looks better that way. Now we can see your face" He squeezed my shoulder. "Thanks for being a good kid."

  "I'm in good company." This time, it was my turn to ruffle Max's hair.

  He didn't notice of course. His entire being was focused on getting to the park. I opened the front door, grabbed his hand before he could bolt into the street and then shut the door behind me, all in one uninterrupted motion.

  Last night had been some kind of fantasy. This was my real life and I had lots of practice living it.

  "Wanna run?" I asked Max, raising my eyebrows. Instinctively I held on to his hand a little tighter.

  He grinned and took off. I ran beside him, whooping, while he half ran, half leaned on me. His little legs were a blur. Together we sprinted all the way to the corner park.

  I was winded by the time we got there, but Max didn't miss a step. He rushed right to the swing-set that stood at the very edge of the playground, close to the jogging path. "Push!" he called.

  "What do you say?" I chided.

  "Push me please!" he parroted, kicking his legs.

  It amazed me how long he was getting. There was no chub left anywhere on his body. He was all knobby elbows and sharp little knees and gigantic feet that looked like he needed new shoes for pretty soon. I made a mental note to tell my mom.

  "Underdog!" I roared, rushing at him with my head down. He whooped as I pushed my way under him, and ran to the other side.

  And then froze solid.

  "Low?"

  The lean, dark-haired runner slowed his pace. He pulled his earbuds from his ears and wiped the sweat away from his forehead, then looked at me like I was some kind of mirage.

  All my resolve seemed to flow out of me in a rush the second I was face to face with him. My body went hot, but my skin danced with goosebumps. I felt my jaw go slack and my stomach bottom out.

  Fuck, the way he was panting, the flush across his face, the way the sweat glistened all over the body I had only begun to start exploring....

  I needed a moment. Or a cigarette and a cold shower.

  "What are you doing here?" I gulped, amazed that I could muster the powers of speech.

  He pulled his mirrored shades off his face and shielded his eyes. Fuck, those eyes. Amber. Burnt sugar. The color of heat. There was no mistaking his eyes. It was really him, here in broad daylight, in my own neighbor
hood.

  "Zoe?" His smile spread slowly at first, like it was taking a while to understand what he was seeing. That yes, the girl in the sweatpants, with her hair pulled back and her face completely devoid of makeup was the same girl he had given three orgasms to last night. The girl he'd just seen shouting and carrying on with the little boy on the swing was the same girl who had fucked him on an empty stage while spotlights glowed all around us

  "Hey there," he said, his easy grin wide and delighted.

  There was no way to stop the blush once it started. I looked back over my shoulder, ostensibly to check on Max, but really just to collect myself. "What are you doing here?" I wondered.

  He lifted the hem of his T-shirt to wipe his mouth. I tried valiantly not to look at his exposed stomach. After all, I'd solemnly resolved that I would never again see him naked. I didn't need this temptation - not after all the effort I'd gone through to find reasons to break things off - but my eyes betrayed me, going to that flat, toned expanse like it was fucking magnetized. The dark hair below his belly button made a perfect trail leading down and down - below the waistband of his low-slung running shorts - and down, and down, and down to....

  "...Hellman Park, and then I just kind of kept going."

  I blinked. "What?" I hadn't been listening to a word he said.

  And he seemed to realize that, because he just grinned his easy grin. "I was on a run, Zoe. What are you doing here?"

  "I live around here?" It came out like a question. If you'd asked me what planet I was on right now, I'd have to ponder and get back to you.

  "Yeah?" He tucked his phone into the waistband of his running shorts, giving me a nice long glimpse of deep, muscular V that ran beside his hipbones.

  My mouth was completely dry. "Yeah."

  "Oh." He seemed to run out of things to say after that.

  We stood there, face to face, not saying a word, and I felt like the whole world had flipped upside down. Here he was, in my neighborhood, four blocks from my house, within a hundred feet of my brother. The rockstar who had played my body like an instrument last night. I had never actually seen him in broad daylight like this.