Don't Mention the Rock Star

by Bree Darcy

  I spotted him before the maitre d’ had a chance to approach me. He was in a booth, gazing through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the glorious twilight view.

  “I’m surprised you got such a prime table looking like that,” I said giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

  Andy had gone to town with his disguise, channelling his inner geek with a pair of circular rimless glasses. His hair was plastered down with an excessive amount of gel and he was wearing a navy velvet jacket over a pink shirt and brown check pants.

  “Been raiding Gerry’s wardrobe again?”

  He laughed. “I spent ages in a thrift shop picking this out. But I do believe that waiter over there can’t figure out why a gorgeous babe like yourself is on a date with me.”

  “It helps that you’re loaded.” I paused for a beat. “Not that this is a date.”

  “Of course. Anyway your husband’s a scientist, isn’t he? This is probably what he wears all the time.”

  “Ha-de-hah.”

  Andy offered me the menu but I waved it away. “Their zucchini and ricotta gnocchi is a favourite of mine. I adore Italian.”

  “Good to hear.”

  I ignored the glint in his eyes. “I’m talking about food, not men.”

  We barely had a chance to stuff down more than a few bites though as we were engrossed in catching up on everything we’d missed through the years – from his bandmates and our children to my job and his music. The only topic we didn’t discuss was our respective partners.

  At the interview I had pressed Andy to explain his break-up but he declined, even when I promised it was off-the-record.

  “I’ve been advised by the publicist not to talk about my personal life,” he droned. “Journalists are not to be trusted apparently.” He grinned. “However for old friends, who agree to meet me for a private dinner, well the rules don’t apply.”

  But we were having such a good time reminiscing that I didn’t want to hold him to that promise and ruin the mood.

  Later as we strolled along the boardwalk at Darling Harbour, Andy chucked his fake glasses into a bin and ruffled up his hair. His buzz cut was starting to grow out. It was a windy night, so not many people were milling about. We stood against a railing, watching the night sky reflected in the water. He casually slung his arm around my waist and rested his head on my shoulder.

  I flinched. “Andy, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” he asked innocently. “This?” He spun me around to face him and kissed me. I pushed him away but he only drew back slightly. “I’ll stop if you tell me you don’t feel anything. Because I know you do.”

  I stomped on his foot. “Did you feel that, you bastard? Did you seriously think we were going to start up again now your marriage has ended? That all this time I’ve been pining away for you?”

  “Haven’t you?” Another grin before it turned into a grimace. “Owww, shit, stop stepping on my foot.”

  “Then stop being a prick. You and me are not happening like that – ever!”

  He sulked for a moment. “Fine, I get the message. Loud and clear. Just friends?”

  “Just friends,” I reiterated.

  “Lunch tomorrow?”

  I nodded. A strong wind blew up and I shivered. Andy pulled me into his chest and wrapped his velvet jacket around me. We stayed like that, for what seemed like ages.

  * * *

  It was like a Seventies flashback as people in Kiss costumes streamed into the convention centre. As I waited for my lunch date outside, a seagull swooped down and pecked at the matted wig of one fan standing by a sculpture.

  I checked my phone for the umpteenth time. He’d better hurry up because I didn’t have that long. I scanned up and down the boardwalk to see if I could spot him. A Kiss fan dressed in the most ridiculous black and silver suit, with heavy white makeup and a black star painted over his eye, waved at me.

  I gave a half-hearted wave back, then returned to my phone.

  “Pssst.”

  I looked up. Now he was playing air guitar and motioning at me to come over. Definitely not, I thought, feigning intense interest in my phone screen. Next thing I know the guy was making his way across the concourse, singing the chorus of I Was Made for Loving You.

  I’d recognise those impressive vocals anywhere. Sure enough, Andy’s eyes peeked out from underneath the mop of long black hair. I shook my head in dismay. His disguises were getting beyond a joke.

  “I had a bit of fun with the wardrobe team,” he explained. “Now we can have a quiet lunch and no one will disturb us.”

  “And you aren’t worried your ridiculous get-up would attract attention?”

  “Take a look around,” he said. “The Kiss army is in town for a convention. Who stands out more – me or you in your strait-laced corporate suit?” He stuck out his tongue at me, Gene Simmons style.

  We were shown to a table at the Hard Rock Cafe, passing Danger Game memorabilia on the stairs. I looked up from the menu, still smarting from his comment. “So you think I’m strait-laced?”

  “I’m sure under that, um, conservative exterior there’s still a girl who lets her wild side out occasionally. Or have you settled for a dull suburban existence?” Andy rested his chin on his hands, his eyes boring into mine.

  It was like he set off an explosion under my chair. “Order me some nachos. I’ll be back,” I said jumping up.

  “Kell, I was joshing around. Sit down and …” But I was already halfway to the nearby shopping complex.

  I returned wearing skinny American flag jeans, a black baggy shoulder-less T-shirt and a pair of Converse, my work clothes stuffed into the carry bag. I’d already rung work saying I was unwell and wouldn’t be back.

  Andy stopped mid-bite as I slid into my seat, scooping up a wad of cheese and avocado with a corn chip and popping it in my mouth.

  “So,” I said chewing furiously. “I’ve ditched work and you and me are having some fun this afternoon.”

  He fiddled with the studded leather collar around his neck. “I can’t. I’ve got to get back. Filming kicks off at -”.

  “I can’t, I’ve got to work,” I mocked in a whiny voice. “Who’s living the dull suburban existence now?” I cocked my eyebrow at him.

  Andy grinned, pulling out his phone. “You are a bad, bad influence. Isn’t that what Heath used to say?” His call connected. “Juliet, something’s come up. I can’t get back for filming … I don’t know, you’ll come up with something … Thanks love, you’re a gem.” He threw his phone down on the table. “Challenge accepted. So what sort of fun did you have in mind?”

  “Well I hope those silver platform boots are made for walking …”

  And that’s how Andy ended up in numerous tourist photos that afternoon – on the open deck of the double-decker tour bus, walking across Sydney Harbour Bridge, standing at the mouth of Luna Park. But none of the tourists had any clue that under all that Kiss make-up was a bona fide rock star.

  * * *

  “So are you ready to tell me what happened with your marriage?” It was a glorious sunny day and we were basking on Manly Beach. Andy had convinced me to take a day’s leave from work – officially sanctioned this time. Thankfully he was dressed like any normal beachgoer, in board shorts, T-shirt and sunglasses, with a broad bamboo hat on his head.

  Andy turned back to watch a group of guys battling it out in the volleyball area. “Umm, we got married and now it’s over.”

  “That’s not a proper answer. I want to know why and why now.”

  “What else can I say?” Andy continued, tossing sand over my feet to bury them. “We’ve come close to calling it quits so many times but something always got in the way. It was never the right time. And you know I owe her, for so much. Not just the record company stuff but pulling me back from the brink when I was rock-bottom, you know, about Heath. This time though she seems ready for it to end. Her lawyers are drawing up the paperwork as we speak.” He sighed and looked out towards the horizon. “I’m no
t looking forward to her old man finding out.”

  “So this is definitely it? Have you told your daughters?” I was also curious what Gerry thought about the split. He’d be heartbroken. In his books, the wife had always been Saint Siena.

  “Not yet. That’s something we need to do when I get back. I might go home, announce the news and flee back here again. What do you reckon? We’ve been having a blast, haven’t we? I’ve got to be back for the Hitmaker finale anyway.”

  I gave a non-committal smile. It had been great catching up but it probably wasn’t a good idea to have him around more permanently.

  Andy trickled sand along my leg. “And what about your marriage? I bet you haven’t told your husband you’re skipping work to show me the sights.”

  I brushed off the sand. “There’s nothing wrong with my marriage. Just because you’ve decided to bale on yours …”

  “Defensive much?” he scoffed. “Need I remind you I was at the hospital when your husband didn’t show. Not exactly a picture-perfect family.”

  “I never said we were. And don’t criticise Curtis, you don’t even know him.”

  “I’m sure he’s a lovely guy. Stable as a table.” Andy grinned. “At least you didn’t end up with Dan. I would have topped myself if that happened.”

  I stuck out my tongue at him.

  “Come on,” Andy said, jumping up and pulling me to my feet. “Did I spot a Ben and Jerry’s on the sidewalk? Let’s get an ice-cream before a divorce attorney awards all my money to my wife. A double scoop of Chunky Monkey and Cherry Garcia. My treat.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, we were walking back from Shelly Beach when a gust of wind blew off Andy’s hat. I raced after it, managing to grab it when it came to rest against a tree trunk. Meanwhile Andy exchanged nods and a knuckle bump with a man in a trilby hat and dark sunglasses walking past with a boy.

  “Is that….?” I asked, spinning around to watch the man’s departing back.

  “Joel Madden,” he confirmed.

  “You’re not going to stop and have a chat?” I asked, coming over a bit starry-eyed to see the Good Charlotte rocker. Adele had once met him at an after-party for The Voice but had humiliated herself when she mistakenly called him “Benji” after his twin.

  “No, there is nothing more annoying when you’re out with your kids and people stop and talk to you. When all your kid wants is your full attention.”

  “It is hard to miss him with all those tattoos,” I mused, noticing that Joel had been accosted by people further down the boardwalk. “Is that why you never got any more done? Made you too easy to spot in a crowd?”

  “Yeah, something like that. Just didn’t fancy it.”

  I punched him on his arm – the one with the tribal symbol on his bicep. “Just admit it, it was too painful, right? You were always a wuss.”

  But Andy was still contemplating the price of fame. “People don’t realise being a celebrity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You, of all people, should know that, reporting on what happens to people when they become famous. Too many can’t handle it and flip out. Suddenly everyone wants a piece of you and you don’t know if they’re hanging around because they actually like you or because you’re a star. I’d never give up my music but I’d love to be an ordinary person again, going out without anyone looking twice at me.”

  Andy put his arm around me, pulling me in close. “That’s why I like being with you. You knew me before so I can be normal with you.”

  We watched Nicole Richie, with daughter in tow, totter up on her incredibly high wedges, a heart-shaped helium balloon strapped to her wrist. She smooched her husband, much to the delight of the people snapping pictures on their phones.

  “You’re so ordinary, that’s what makes you extraordinary to me,” Andy said, flipping his hat on to his head. Incognito, we wandered off in the opposite direction to get a burger.

  Moments later returning to the beach, a classic black Ford raced past us, spinning into the parking lot. My hackles were immediately raised when I noticed a group of senior Holyoake boys piling out of the car.

  I elbowed Andy. “See that kid over there. That’s one of the thugs who picks on Ryan.” He wags school too, obviously.

  After Curtis’ stern letter about the bullying on the bus, Mr Beamish had called the boys responsible and their parents into his office to apologise to Ryan.

  “Really. Which one?”

  I pointed out the dark-haired boy leaning against the driver’s door with his hands in his pockets.

  “Look at his self-satisfied smirk – how I’d like to wipe that off his face,” I sneered.

  “Leave it to me.” Andy sauntered over and whistled. “Nice wheels. This your car?” he asked bully boy.

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool rims. Don’t suppose you’ve got a jack handy?”

  “We do but we’re in a hurry,” the boy answered with a dismissive look.

  “That’s a shame. There’s a real pretty girl around the corner with a flat. I thought you guys looked like the type of gentlemen to give her a hand. Know what I mean.” Andy winked. “But oh well, if you gotta go, you gotta go.” He took a huge bite out of his hamburger, dripping mayonnaise down his arm.

  I had no idea where Andy was going with this but chipped in that the stranded lady in question was a well-known bikini model.

  The boys all nudged each other excitedly.

  “It’s quickest if you go through that alleyway.” Andy gave the rescuers a confusing set of directions as bully boy popped the boot to retrieve a jack and wrench.

  As soon as they were out of sight, Andy jimmied open the car door, rummaged around inside and then eased the door shut again.

  “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing me by the elbow and steering me towards the mall.

  “Andy, you better not have stolen anything. The last thing we need is your ugly mug on CrimeStoppers.”

  “Have a little faith. I actually gave them something.”

  He waved his empty hands in the air. He had left the gift of a half-eaten hamburger with extra onions and pickles wedged under the passenger seat. There would be no air freshener in the world strong enough to mask that smell in a day or two.

  * * *

  I was pressed into Andy’s back, our hands locked together so we wouldn’t get separated in the crush of passengers waiting for the ferry back to Circular Quay.

  “Kellie!” Grace, president of the women’s auxiliary at Ciara’s school and good friend of Delia’s, tapped me on the shoulder. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  I quickly dropped Andy’s hand as she looked from me to him, waiting for an introduction. “Grace Chambers, Andrew Dangerfield. Andy’s a musician. From America. We’ve been doing a photo shoot for Starfix. We’re heading back now, got to get home for the kids. I mean, I’m heading home. Andy will obviously be heading back to his hotel. By himself.”

  Grace’s gaze slowly took in Andy’s lairy boardshorts and faded T-shirt, complete with ice-cream smears. He whipped off his hat and raised his sunglasses to the top of his head before shaking Grace’s hand. “Howdy, nice to meet you,” he drawled. His mother had brought him up to always be polite to his elders.

  “I do believe I know who you are,” Grace said. “But I didn’t recognise you with your clothes on.” She winked at him.

  As Andy exploded into laughter and I picked my jaw off the floor, murmurs started through the crowd as others began to recognise him.

  “That looks like the singer from Danger Game.”

  “Oh my goodness, is that AJ Dangerfield?”

  “Are you sure? He looks different with white hair.”

  Some overweight Texan tourists shoved their way through to take a photo with him. That started an avalanche of people wanting pictures, autographs and kisses. Grace watched with interest as Andy interacted warmly with his fans.

  “Maybe you could persuade your friend to come along to our school fete at the weekend,” she said. “We need to
boost our celebrity quota. Chris Brown has had to pull out, he’s performing surgery on a king cobra.” Grace looked somewhat miffed that the Bondi Vet would put his work saving animals (or reptiles in this case) ahead of judging the pet show.

  As I was shaking my head, Andy chimed in that he’d love to come. “I’m a dab hand at flipping burgers on the grill if you need an extra hand.”

  Thankfully the ferry chugged up to the wharf at that point and I was able to drag Andy away from his adoring fans, including Grace.

  “You shouldn’t have told her you’d be there this weekend,” I told him. “Now I’ll have to make excuses for you.”

  “But I am coming. I love fairs – candyfloss and ball toss; pony rides and bouncy slides, hot dogs and -”.

  “I get it, poet of our generation. But you’re not coming.”

  “Why not? I can catch up with Ryan, finally meet the rest of your family.”

  “Absolutely not. And Ryan … well …” My face burned with embarrassment as I confessed Ryan thought his VIP hospital guest was a figment of his imagination.

  Andy looked appalled. “You lied to your son, made him think he was delusional?”

  “I panicked. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  “Well this seems like the perfect opportunity for you to tell your family about me.”

  “Just like you told your wife about me? Because I could have sworn when I had the pleasure of meeting Siena, she had no idea who the hell I was.”

  “I definitely would have told her about you. I can’t help it if she chose not to listen. You know what she’s like about ignoring anything to do with my past.”

  “My mother-in-law will be there too. She’s very perceptive, she’ll sense there’s something between us and -”.

  “I thought we were ‘just friends’.”

  “We are. But there’s also this … this thing between us that Delia will sniff out in seconds.”

  “Our unrequited longing for one another, you mean.” Andy smouldered at me. “If you’re worried she’ll sense the sexual tension, that’s easily solved. Come back with me to my hotel now and -” Andy quickly whipped his feet under the bench before I could stomp on them.