Heartstrings (A Rock Star Romance Novel)

by Hadley Danes

  “Who’s to say what’s real?” he ponders airily.

  “You’re philosophizing again,” I say, “But I want an answer.”

  He sighs heavily. “How am I supposed to know who the real Slade is?” he asks. “Do you know who the real Julia is?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  “OK,” he says, “So is it the uptight nurse who doesn’t want a thing out of place, the sweet young woman who will hold a guy’s hand to make him feel better, or the rebellious soul going off on adventures with a guy she barely knows?”

  “Well...they’re all the real me,” I say.

  “So, you see my point,” he says. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

  Before I can say anything, Maggie comes back to our table with a heaping tray of food. She puts a big carafe of coffee down, two heaping plates of fries, and two sandwiches loaded with meat, cheese, and everything in between.

  “Let me guess,” I say, “The sandwich is named after you?”

  “How did you guess?” he smiles, and dollops nearly an entire bottle of ketchup onto his plate.

  “What’s in it?” I ask, eyeing my sandwich.

  “The easier question to answer would be what isn’t in it,” Slade says. “Just try it. If you don’t like it, you never have to see me again as long as we live.”

  “That is a daring proposition,” I say.

  “Come on,” he says, “For me?”

  That does it, of course. I wrap my hands around the gigantic sandwich. It’s a pretty big departure from my usual diet of hospital cafeteria fruit salads and coffee. I heft the thing up to my mouth and take as big a bite as I can manage.

  “Oh my god...” I say, once I’ve managed to swallow.

  “Amazing, right?” he says. “I’m not only a musical genius, I’m a culinary one as well.”

  “Were there...mozzarella sticks in there?” I ask in wonder.

  “Among other things,” he says.

  “You’ve opened my eyes,” I say, “I will be eternally indebted to you after this.”

  We dig into our food. I didn’t realize how hungry I really was. I have an entire shift behind me, plus a pseudo-concert/spirit quest behind me at this point. I deserve a great big diner breakfast, I think. I lift another delectable fry to my mouth and catch Slade watching me gleefully.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “This is just...very nice,” he says, “I haven’t had a quiet morning like this in a really long time.”

  “I’d imagine not,” I say, “On the road, and all.”

  “Not just on the road. While we’re recording, too. Even when I’m not technically working. Everything’s gotten pretty fast paced for me.”

  “I guess you kind of got forced into taking a break, when your chivalry turned into injury,” I say, taking a sip of coffee.

  “Well, I’d get kicked in the gut all over again,” he says, “It was worth it.”

  “Being able to take a break, you mean?” I ask.

  “That,” he says, “And getting the chance to meet you.”

  I feel a warm flush creeping into my cheeks. The unspoken attraction that’s been hanging between us since the hospital is finally being given a name. The elephant in the room is getting its day in the spotlight, after all. I suddenly feel panicked—I haven’t been this attracted to anyone since...ever. What comes after you admit to something like this? I’m terrified, but I can’t stop it now.

  “I’m glad I happened to be there when you got in,” I tell him. “I’ll admit, I was a little judgmental at first...”

  “No,” he says sarcastically, widening his eyes.

  “But you’ve grown on me,” I tell him, ignoring his shenanigans.

  “You’ve grown on me, too,” he says, “But you didn’t have to work as hard.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “You’re a nurse,” he says, “I was predisposed to like you from the start.”

  “Ugh. Don’t tell me this is all just some fetish thing,” I moan.

  He gives a little laugh. “No, no,” he says, “It’s just...” I can tell it’s hard for him to continue. “When my dad had his accident, the nurses at the hospital were amazing. I don’t know what we would have done without them. They didn’t just do everything they could for me, but they were there for my mom and my sisters...and me. I have more respect for you guys than anyone else in the world.”

  I stare at him, dumbfounded. No wonder he was always stressing how important my job was. The image of ten year old Slade being comforted as he was told his dad wasn’t going to make it brings hot, stinging tears to my eyes. I reach across the table and take his hand. Our eyes lock, and for a moment it feels like we were the only two people in the world. We don’t speak, we just sit with each other, connected in a deeper way than I could have ever expected.

  Maggie bustles straight into our moment of connectivity to give us the bill. Slade gives her about five times more than he owes and we head back to the car. We drive back toward Philly in silence, our hands clasped firmly. I couldn’t believe how intimate it feels just to hold his hand. I’ve slept with people before and not felt as connected to them as I feel to Slade now. Eventually, we pull up in front of my little house. It’s late afternoon by the time we get there, but I don’t have to work tonight. I’ve been up for nearly twenty four hours, and I desperately need some shut eye. But still, as Slade walks me to my door, I don’t want him to go. My tired, weary body is still sparking with desire for him.

  We stand on my front stoop. I’m fidgeting with my keys, trying to work up the nerve to invite him in again. He’s looking down at me with a kind, knowing intensity. I can tell he wants what I do. I can just feel it.

  “I know you’re probably exhausted,” he says, “But we’re playing a show tonight. A real show. I want you to be there.”

  “In the audience?” I ask.

  “Backstage,” he says.

  “I...OK,” I say. I have to give myself over to this insane twist in my life. I can’t say no to an opportunity like this. I can’t say no to Slade. “Thank you for showing me all that today,” I say. “The pool hall, the diner, everything you told me. I feel like—”

  But my words fall away as Slade’s strong hands land on my hips, circling around the small of my back. He pulls me to him, and I lift my hands to his broad shoulders. As if by instinct, I tilt my face toward his, and lean heavily against him as his lips come down on mine. His strong, firm mouth moves against my own, and I feel his tongue slide against mine. Our mouths move together, and I try my best to memorize the taste of him. He pulls away just an inch and looks down into my flushed face.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he smiles, stepping away from me.

  I watch him walk away, the feel of his lips lingering on my skin. By some miracle, I manage to get the front door open, trudge upstairs, and collapse onto my bed. Sleep rushes in to claim me for a few short hours, before my next stint as a rock star’s groupie.

  Chapter Six

  * * * * *

  My sleep is filled with thoughts of Slade. My imagination runs through dozens of scenarios, each sexier than the last. I think of how wonderful it would feel to give myself over to him, to trust my body to his the way we’ve already begun to trust our hearts. It’s a wonder that I even manage to sleep a wink, I’m so excited for what comes next. Thank god for days off—though I’m sure this will all catch up with me eventually. I try not to think about what happens once this ride is over. If I’m honest with myself, I don’t want it to ever end.

  When I open my eyes, the sky is dusky. Evening has just rolled around. Though I’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep, my entire body feels energized. Slade’s kiss electrified every cell in my body. I need to feel that spark again, to feel it build inside of me as our bodies come together. If just one kiss has me craving Slade like this, what will happen when we...? If we...? It’s almost too much to think about. I’ve never wanted anyone like this before. Before, being with a guy has always felt l
ike settling. But this is a whole different story.

  I look helplessly at my closet, rifling through my clothes for anything appropriate that I might wear. My current cut off and tank top ensemble is fine, but I want to wear something that will really knock Slade out. I realize, looking through an endless series of sundresses, that I need to call in a professional. I rummage through my purse and pull out my cell phone. I punch in Penny’s number and listen to the phone as it rings.

  “Julia?” says a sleepy voice on the other end of the line. “What’s up?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say. “Forget about it.”

  “Well, I’m up now,” she grumbles. “What do you need?”

  “Uh...” I start, “So, the thing is. Um. About Slade...”

  “What about Slade?” Penny asks. I can hear her piqued interest through the phone.

  “Well, he didn’t exactly bounce as abruptly as we thought,” I say. “When I got home from my shift...He was waiting at my house, to say good—”

  My words are cut off by a loud, shrill screech blaring across the line. Penny is just a little bit excited for me, as it would happen. She’s letting loose with disjointed, ecstatic syllables, none of which I can make out. I smile into the phone—there’s nothing quite like Penny’s enthusiasm to get a girl riled about something.

  “What happened? Tell me everything!” she finally spits out.

  “We got in his car,” I say.

  “And did it?” she asks.

  “No,” I laugh, “We drove to Jersey, to this old pool hall where his band used to play. He brought his guitar, he wanted to visit and pay tribute, I guess. He played a couple songs he was working on...they were amazing. And I thought for a second that something was going to happen—”

  “You did it in the pool hall?” she bursts out.

  “No!” I say, “He took me to this old diner he used to go to with the band. And the waitress remembered him, and there was practically a shrine dedicated to him on the wall, and they even had a sandwich named after him. It was an amazing sandwich, by the way.”

  “I couldn’t care less what kind of sandwich you ate,” Penny says, “When and where and how did you do it?”

  “Well...” I say, “We didn’t quite. He brought me home, and asked me to come to his concert tonight. This one’s going to be a real concert, not like this morning. And then he kissed me...”

  Another round of screaming blasts through the phone. Penny is losing her mind over the line, and I can’t blame her. I don’t know how I’m keeping it together myself.

  “You’re going to go, right?” she demands.

  “I mean...Yeah,” I say, “I think I’d better, right?”

  “That’s right, you’d better!” she says. “Julia...This is incredible. You kissed Slade Hale! The Slade Hale! How are you even standing right now?”

  “Barely,” I say. “But Penny, I need your help.”

  “What do you need?” she asks. “I will literally do anything if it will help you get laid by a rock star. Anything in the world.”

  “I just need something to wear,” I say, “Everything I own looks like it belongs to a pre-school teacher. Not that that’s a bad thing, I just think it might be a little out of place at a rock concert.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty,” she says, “I can’t believe this. Little Julia and the big bad rock star...”

  “Trust me, I know,” I say.

  The line clicks and Penny is gone. I rush into the shower for a quick scrub down. The hot water is sweet relief against my skin. My muscles ache pleasantly, the result of having been on my feet so long. I can only hope that Slade will have me off my feet eventually. I let my hands wander over my body as I think of him, what he might do to me tonight. My fingers dance along my belly and thighs, gliding between my legs. I lean back against the wall of the shower and work myself into a state of near bliss. Kneading and rubbing, I let myself imagine that it’s Slade touching me, stroking me with his thick, strong fingers. My knees are trembling in no time, and as I keep his face in my mind’s eye, I let myself go. I come, thinking of him, barely standing. The sheer force of my excitement for him nearly knocks me on my ass. I turn off the water, panting, and pat myself dry. I’m still getting used to acknowledging the intensity of my desire for him...but I can't remember ever feeling like this.

  My doorbell rings, and I hurry to let Penny in. She flies over the threshold, staggering under a heaping pile of clothing. She must have twenty outfits piled up in her arms. Penny is nothing if not a thorough person.

  “Come on!” she says, heading up the stairs, “Time is of the essence!”

  “Did you bring your entire wardrobe?” I ask.

  “Please,” she says, “This barely scratches the surface.”

  She flings the mountain of clothes onto my bed and starts digging through, extracting and matching pieces. She looks like a surgeon, hunkering down over a patient—the attention to detail is impressive

  “Try these first,” she says, throwing a couple of pieces my way.

  I duck into the bathroom and try to put on the clothing she’s given me. Everything is all straps and cutouts, and I can’t figure out what goes where. I do my best to guess at how this thing is supposed to look and step back out to meet her. Penny takes one look at me and bursts out laughing.

  “You’ve got the skirt on your boobs and the top on your hips!” she cackles.

  “Well, excuse me!” I say, “I only know how to put on actual clothing, not whatever you call this.”

  “Here, she says, handing me a few dresses, “This might be easier for you.”

  I head back into the bathroom and pull on a tight, emerald green number. Its hem is fringed, and it’s a little difficult to breathe while wearing it. I go out and give Penny a little turn, and she instructs me to try the next. This one is white, with a plunging neckline. The fabric is practically see-through. I show Penny, and she shrugs, clearly not taken with it. I go back to try on the final piece.

  This dress is striped with red and black. There are carefully placed slits across the fabric, showing off just the right amount of skin. The garment hugs my generous hips and chest snugly, and even I have to admit that it looks fantastic on me. I make my way back out to Penny, and she breaks out a thrilled grin. She demands that I do a little catwalk for her, and determines that we’ve found a winner. I look at myself in the mirror, turning this way and that. It’s a good start, that’s for sure, but we’re far from done here.

  “What am I supposed to do with my face?” I ask.

  “What do you usually do with it?” Penny says.

  “Um. Nothing, really,” I say, “I’m always either at work or sleeping.”

  “Do you have foundation? Liquid eyeliner? The basics?” she asks.

  “Uh...I have some Chapstick,” I say, unhelpfully.

  Penny takes a deep breath, looking downright nauseated. “It’s OK,” she says, “I brought plenty that we can work with. But honestly, Julia, how the hell did you get this far in life without a decent makeup bag?”

  “I’m scrappy,” I shrug.

  Penny sits me down in front of the bathroom mirror and gets to work. She produces an armada of cosmetics, and I stare at the array, dumbfounded. How anyone finds a use for all these things is beyond me. I’ve never been fantastic at the girlier parts of being a girl. I like a sundress as much as anyone else, but usually I just pair it with flip flops, brushed hair, and a lawn chair in my back yard. This level of primping is completely foreign to me. The craziest part is that the girls at Slade’s rock shows probably manage to make it look like they’ve just thrown their looks together. I had no idea it took so much effort to look effortless.

  My friend starts with a base that covers my entire face, smoothing out my already smooth skin. She adds color to my cheeks, and scares away the pesky circles under my eyes. Her application of smoky eyes takes forever, she’s truly an artist at work. She decides to finish off the look with a bright, bold red l
ipstick. She steps back and examines her work, nodding slowly to herself.

  “I think you’re going to be rather surprised,” she says. “Take a look.”

  I turn toward the mirror and, for a moment, can’t see myself. Staring back at me is a rock and roll babe, all glam and glitter. The girl in the mirror blinks as I blink, her mouth hanging open just like mine. Finally, it sinks in that the glamorous person reflected back is really me.

  “Holy crap,” I breathe, turning my face this way and that. “You made me...”

  “Sexy as hell,” Penny grins. “You’re welcome.”

  “How did you do that?” I ask.

  “You’re beautiful to begin with,” she says, “That makes it pretty easy.”

  “Thank you Penny,” I say.

  “Let’s not do anything to your hair,” she says, playing with my strawberry blonde locks. “It’ll be all wavy and gorgeous if we just let it air dry.”

  “I don’t think I’ve had my hair down in years,” I say.

  “No kidding,” Penny says. “Have you ever even been to concert before?”

  “Sure,” I say. “My mom took me to see Fleetwood Mac’s reunion tour in Atlantic City.”

  “That’s not exactly the kind of concert I was talking about,” Penny says.

  “Is this going to be...very different?” I ask, looking up at Penny in the mirror.

  “Night and day,” Penny says. “Flagrant Disregard is pretty hardcore. The fans mean business. You saw what happened to Slade, and he’s the damn lead singer! Are you sure you’re going to be OK, on your own?”

  “I hope so,” I say quietly. I hadn’t thought about any of this. “Slade said I should come backstage.”

  “That’s better,” Penny nods, “You won’t get swept up into any pits that way.”

  “What is a...? Never mind,” I say.

  “Of course, backstage you might have to deal with groupies,” Penny says. “Think you can handle that?”

  “Other women throwing themselves at Slade?” I ask. The very thought makes my blood boil. “That might be...difficult.”