Don't Mention the Rock Star

by Bree Darcy

  So as it stood I would regret not going with Andy and I would regret not continuing with my education. Talk about a catch-22 situation. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t let anyone else decide for me. Not Andy, not Maria, not Mum. I had to make my own decision.

  * * *

  I threw the last pair of sneakers into the duffel bag and zipped it up before collapsing across the bed. “All packed.” I was so tempted to rip open the bag and strew Andy’s stuff all over his bedroom again. I couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving tomorrow morning. “You do know they’re going to ask you at the airport if you packed your own bag and you’ll have to admit you’re a lazy git who let his girlfriend do it all,” I said.

  “As long as you didn’t pack anything illegal, we should be okay. Actually that reminds me.” Andy clambered on to his bed and removed the ceiling vent mount. Feeling around in the roof cavity, he pulled down a wooden box. “Better not leave this here for ma. Do you want one?” he asked, rolling a joint.

  “What do you think?”

  “All the more for me then.”

  Andy flopped back on his bed. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”

  “No, Andrew, as you well know I have no desire to smoke pot with you.”

  “No, not about that. About coming with me. Now – not centuries away.”

  The plan was for me to finish my university entrance exams in November then spend my holidays with him in the US. That was still months away.

  “Nor do I want to drop out of high school.”

  “Like me, you mean.” He pouted. “How am I supposed to survive with you two-hundred-thousand miles away?”

  “I’m not on the Moon, you know. It’s actually only eight thousand miles between here and San Francisco. About sixteen hours difference in time. Remember that when you ring.”

  “You might as well be on the Moon.”

  “You can write to me every week, telling me what you and Gerry are up to. And I’ll write back telling you how much I’m missing you. And then before you know it I’ll be a reporter, and you’ll be in a chart-topping band. And we’ll get back together – still madly in love.”

  “And bonk like crazy.”

  “Something like that.”

  Andy grinned, stubbing out his joint. “Maybe we should get in some last-minute practice.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The green light of our digital clock mocked me. 3.17. Why couldn’t I nod off the one night I needed every second of beauty sleep? Instead I was tossing and turning, the paranoia kicking in about Andy not showing, the pair of us having nothing to talk about, the possibility of someone seeing us together.

  Normally when Curtis was away at an interstate sales conference, I relished the opportunity to stretch out across the bed, blissfully uninterrupted by his snoring. Dawn used to say she found it hard to sleep when her husband was away, I was exactly the opposite.

  Dawn, unsurprisingly, was far from happy about my rendezvous with Andy.

  “She thinks you’ll jump straight into the sack with him,” Nikki told me last night when she rang for a final pep talk. “She’s added you to her prayer list this week.”

  “Puh-lease,” I replied. “You can tell her from me that I am perfectly capable of remaining immune to his charms for an hour or so. As if he’d be interested in me anyway. Let’s not forget the gorgeous creature he’s married to plus the million other women around the world who’d jump at the chance.”

  Nikki scoffed. “Somehow I don’t think Andy’s hopped on a plane to see any of them.”

  “No, he’s hopped on a plane because he’s doing a TV show, for his father-in-law.”

  “Whatever. The fact of the matter is I hardly think it’s a coincidence that as soon as he tracks you down, he’s bound for the same city. I’d bet a million bucks he’s coming to get you back.”

  “As if!” My voice rose several octaves.

  “You were always dense about stuff like this,” Nikki sighed. “How long did it take for you to realise Dan had the hots for you? Trust your oldest, wisest friend on this. Andy’s coming back to Australia for one reason. And for one reason alone. And I’m talking to her right now.”

  * * *

  “See ya, Mum, I’m off,” Ryan called through the bathroom door.

  “Have a good day,” I yelled back, before realising it was far too early for him to be heading to school. I wrapped a towel around myself and popped out to have a word to him. But the front door closed before I even made it to the top of the stairs. Maybe it was a good sign he was so eager to get to school, I thought, as I turned on the shower.

  Twenty minutes later, I climbed out again, reeking of Jo Malone pomegranate body wash. After applying every cosmetic known to woman from pore-minimising primer and dark-circle-hiding concealer to light-reflecting foundation and shine-preventing powder, I briefly considered the possibility of an emergency Botox injection before finishing off with mascara, blush and lip gloss. It took a lot of effort to make it look like I hadn’t gone to much effort.

  Yelling at my sleepy-head daughter that she needed to be ready and waiting by the door in fifteen minutes, I wriggled into my turquoise skinny jeans, buttoned up my cream blouse and fastened around my neck a heart locket from the back of my jewellery box.

  Ignoring Ciara’s protests about being dropped off a block from school so I could avoid the kiss-and-drive traffic jam, I was left with a leisurely hour to make my way to the Chinese Gardens. It was the perfect location to meet – not only close to Andy’s hotel, it also had plenty of secluded spots for private conversations.

  I was wandering across Pyrmont Bridge humming a Danger Game song when my phone rang. “Hello?” I answered tentatively, praying it wasn’t Andy calling to say he couldn’t make it. I listened carefully, asked a few questions, then ran in the opposite direction towards a taxi rank.

  * * *

  It had to be the universe’s way of punishing me.

  As the taxi wended its way towards the children’s hospital, I recalled a recent conversation with Dawn, after she’d spent an all-nighter when her oldest son, Luke, broke his wrist skateboarding. It was her family’s twelfth visit to the emergency department in three years. And I’d bragged about the fact that Ryan had never as much as stubbed a toe.

  With shaking hands, I texted Andy explaining why I couldn’t meet him. It was only as the taxi pulled into the hospital carpark that I remembered to contact Curtis too, messaging him the scant details I had so he could arrange an early flight back from Melbourne.

  Come on, come on. The automatic entry doors opened extraordinarily slowly. I raced down the corridor towards the emergency department.

  A few tired-looking mothers looked over, glad to have something else to focus on apart from the nauseatingly cheery chat on morning TV. The triage nurse dealt with my mild hysteria in a firm, professional manner and pointed me towards the treatment area. I frantically scanned the room – one child sat on a trolley, retching into an ice-cream container. Another had an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose.

  Finally a nurse whipped back a curtain to reveal my bruised and battered Ryan.

  He had been hit by a car on his way to school. The doctor on duty informed me he was nursing a bump on the back of his head, a fractured elbow, a torn ligament in his knee and plenty of grazed skin where he had skidded along the bitumen. But because he had bounced off the side of the bonnet, rather than been hit direct on, his injuries weren’t as serious as they might have been.

  The doctor explained that concussion could appear even days after an accident. “We are monitoring him for any signs, such as nausea, vomiting, dizziness,” he said.

  “Did he stub his toe?” I asked.

  The doctor shook his head, and made another note on his clipboard, hopefully putting my stupid question down to shock and not recording that the mother needed psychiatric assessment.

  “We’ll be keeping Ryan in overnight for observation. I believe the police also need to speak w
ith you.”

  * * *

  “How do you feel now?” I asked my groggy son after he’d moved into a private room.

  “Like I’ve been hit by a truck. My body aches all over.”

  “But I thought it was only a Mini Coupe!”

  My feeble attempt to lighten the moment didn’t raise even a weak smile from him. Ryan looked so fragile with a pressure bandage around his skull. I reached out to brush an eyelash off his cheek, and he grasped on to my arm and held on tight.

  We sat in silence, heavy in thought, until a man strode into the room. “So what have we got here? Heard one of my fans took on a car and came off second best.”

  It took a moment to register the familiar face under the unfamiliar peroxide-blond crew cut. I stifled a gasp.

  “AJ Dangerfield, nice to meet you, Ryan.” He went to shake his hand but thought better of it when he saw the plaster cast, instead giving the rock salute. He smirked as he nodded towards me. “And is this your sister?”

  A dazed Ryan finally found his tongue. “It’s me mum.”

  Andy shook my hand, acting like we’d never met before. “Get away, she’s far too gorgeous to be someone’s ma.”

  As Andy chatted to Ryan, I fussed around my son’s belongings, pulling out his shattered iPod from the side pocket of his school bag. I refused to look at my former boyfriend. What the hell was he doing here?

  Two police officers had come by earlier to inform us that the driver would not be charged. Ryan had admitted he had walked straight into her car and there was no way she could have avoided him. Other witnesses backed up that account. After a stern lecture on road safety, the policemen departed.

  But now I realised there was one part of the story that didn’t make sense. “What were you doing on Princess Road, Ryan?” I asked. “Why didn’t you stay on the bus until the school stop?”

  “Just felt like a walk,” he mumbled, avoiding my eye. “No law against that is there?”

  “I suppose not but that’s an extremely busy road. From now on you should take the bus the whole way. I mean -”

  “You don’t need to treat me like a little kid,” Ryan said indignantly. “I made a mistake but geez…”

  “All it takes is one mistake and … you could have been … I could have lost -”. I broke off, my voice choked.

  Andy turned to face me and spoke gently. “Is there anyone you need to call to let them know how Ryan is? I don’t mind staying with him …”

  “Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” I replied formally. “I should try his father again, I only left a panicked message when I arrived.”

  * * *

  As I walked back along the corridor, Andy’s laughter rang out. “Maybe best if you don’t tell your ma that.”

  Don’t tell me what?” I said entering the room.

  Andy and Ryan looked over at me, guilt written all over their faces. I stared back at them, arms crossed, with my don’t-mess-with-me expression they both knew so well.

  Ryan caved first. “A Danger Game song came on when I was about to cross the road – so I turned it up real loud. Didn’t see or hear the car. So technically, it’s his fault.” He pointed at Andy, who raised his hands in mock surrender and asked us not to sue.

  A curly-haired nurse with an Irish accent bustled into the room, to check Ryan’s vital signs and make sure he was comfortable.

  “Bet you gave your mum and dad here a real scare,” she told him. She smiled sweetly at Andy who didn’t correct her. “But you’ll be on the mend in no time.”

  Andy asked the nurse whether it would be okay to leave Ryan while we got a bite to eat. “For sure,” she said, explaining what Ryan needed most was rest.

  “Will you be fine?” I asked my son.

  Ryan nodded, closing his eyes.

  “Did you want anything – a drink, something to read?” I asked lingering at the door.

  “A new iPod,” he mumbled.

  I strode towards the lift, leaving Andy to trail in my wake. Two doctors wandered past discussing a close call with a young boy who had gone into anaphylactic shock. A weary young mother, barely out of her teens, nursed a baby, while a listless toddler lay her head in her lap, a tube running into her nose.

  When I reached the end of a corridor, I spun around to face Andy. “Right, you’ve got three seconds to explain what you’re doing here,” I hissed, thumping him on the chest.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay. Your text had me worried.”

  “What if people recognise you, ask what you’re doing here? The whole blond Eminem thing you’ve got going on won’t fool people for long.”

  “So I tell them I heard Ryan was a big fan and dropped in to give my best wishes. Celebs do it all the time to make it look like they’re caring human beings. Stop stressing, woman.” He did his cute grin thing but his smile faded when he realised it wasn’t working. “Hey, I didn’t let on to Ryan I knew you, did I? Your secret is perfectly safe with me. I’m a good actor.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “You obviously never saw me in Fatal Causes, the director told me I was very convincing.”

  I had watched the clip on YouTube recently. “You played a corpse,” I said. “Lying lifeless on a morgue slab. Not exactly Academy Award territory.”

  “So are you planning on standing next to the broom closet all day and were you actually looking for the elevator? Your sense of direction is as good as ever, I see. Follow me.”

  We traipsed back along the corridor, Andy waving at a teenage girl with buckled legs who was leaning against a door frame.

  “Look Andy, as lovely as it is that you were worried, you shouldn’t be here. I don’t want people to know we know each other.”

  Andy muttered under his breath as the lift pinged to signal its arrival. He ushered me in, nodding congenially at a hospital porter transporting an empty wheelchair.

  After we piled out on the ground floor, I yanked Andy under the stairwell. “Did I hear you say I should chill out? When my son has been run over, and you are here, flaunting your famous face all over the place. I’m entitled to be as stressed out as I want.”

  Andy grinned. “You always did get grumpy when you didn’t get enough sleep,” he said.

  “I slept perfectly fine, thank you.”

  “Really? Must have only been me then. Couldn’t sleep cos I was far too nervous about seeing you again. If I’d known how welcoming you’d be …” He winked at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I smiled ruefully. “This isn’t how I imagined today would go at all.”

  “Obviously, hospitals and us don’t go together. Remember how freaked out I was that time.”

  I really wanted to know what had happened that last occasion we saw each other but now was not the time. Instead I allowed Andy to steer me towards the cafeteria line, where we ordered two cappuccinos and found a table in a quiet corner.

  I had barely taken a sip when Andy revealed Ryan told him why he’d been crossing that busy road. He had taken an earlier bus, and then walked the rest of the way to school, to avoid some older boys who took his usual bus. All week they had been teasing him and then yesterday they had snatched his school bag and thrown some of his belongings out the window.

  Damn it. I wish I could wring their necks. Obviously this new school year was not going to be any better. “Why would he tell you – a complete stranger – and not his own mother?” I asked.

  “Trust me, it’s embarrassing for a teenage boy to admit to his ma he’s getting picked on. I told him I used to have hassles too and there’s no point letting them get to you,” Andy said.

  “Thanks. It’ll mean something coming from you.”

  “And then one day, if he’s lucky, he’ll meet a girl who’ll make everything alright.”

  We both stared at each other for a moment before I dropped my eyes and emptied a sugar sachet into my coffee. I never took sugar.

  “He’s a good-looking kid,” Andy continued. “You know, under all the cuts and bruise
s. But that comes as no surprise. Look at you – still as beautiful as ever.” He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and ran his finger along my cheek. I gave an involuntary shiver which didn’t escape Andy’s notice.

  The years had certainly been kind to him. There might be more crinkles around his eyes but his eyes were bright and he looked much healthier. He was wearing a red and black striped T-shirt that I’m sure I remembered from back in the nineties.

  And I wasn’t the only one who noticed an item from the past.

  “You’re wearing my necklace.” Andy held my heart locket in the palm of his hand, then reached up to cup my chin.

  “I really should get back to Ryan,” I said, standing up so abruptly my chair toppled over. “And it’s probably best if you got going too.”

  “Is his old man on his way?”

  I shook my head, explaining that Curtis had decided that since Ryan wasn’t seriously injured, it wasn’t worth flying back since he had “wall-to-wall meetings”.

  Andy was unable to mask his shocked expression but he tactfully didn’t comment. “Well you know I’m around if you need anything.”

  “Thanks for dropping by. It was really thoughtful. Good luck with the TV show and all that. I’ll call if I can but it might be difficult. Depends how Ryan is.”

  “Of course, I understand. Just make sure he takes it easy.”

  We walked back along the corridor in silence. We paused at the hospital’s exit doors before embracing one another and saying goodbye.

  “Oh, by the way.” Andy turned around again. “I wanted to let you know, before you hear it from someone else, Siena and I have split up, we’re getting a divorce.”

  And with that he walked out the glass sliding doors, hands in pockets and head down.

  * * *

  I spent the rest of the afternoon watching my son sleep, occasionally putting my hand on his chest to check he was still breathing. When the dinner cart woke him, he sat up, asking after Andy.

  I had already decided how I would deal with this awkward situation.