Nobody's Hero

by Melanie Harvey

Rick caught her arm just below her elbow, warm and soft under his hand. The second he touched her, he knew. The wanting wasn’t just coming from him.

  “You gotta tell me why,” he said. “Because I heard a lot of things about that song, but I ain’t never heard that before.” It was bitter, vulgar — even criminal, according to a few complaints to his label. How could it make anyone cry?

  “I wondered if anyone ever really loved the guy who wrote it.”

  Her soft words felt like a sucker punch, straight to the gut and from someone you didn’t think would go after you like that. Rick looked into the gold centers of Carolyn’s eyes, felt his breathing slow, the chaos disappear. Goddamn.

  He took a step closer, slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder and down again.

  “No shit,” he said, forcing the words to come out easy. “You offering?”

  She jerked her arm away. This time he backed up. Reading women could be hard. Except when the sparks started flying out their eyeballs.

  Her voice snapped to match. “You might want to check your thesaurus, Mr. Ranière. To see if fuck is actually synonymous.”

  She shot him one more fire-filled look and spun away, stalked right across the sidewalk, to where the car door was wide open, waiting.

  Doors didn’t slam good on new expensive cars, but she didn’t need a good slam to leave. Her chauffeur jumped, hustled to the driver’s door, and the car drowned in the traffic seconds later. Rick should have been pissed at somebody, he wasn’t sure who. But he wasn’t.

  He spun around and saw Terrance. “Did you hear that?”

  Terrance just grinned.

  “Damn,” Rick said. “Who is that girl?”

  “You mean the one you just … alienated?”

  “Shit.” Why did he think this was so funny? “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “You got about ten more to go.” Terrance nodded toward the barrier. “And we gotta roll, so you better get — oh! That one ain’t pissed off.”

  Rick ignored him. “Can we get back inside the studio?”

  “Oh, baby — look.”

  Tit-girl had attracted a security guard. As he led her away, Rick shrugged and waved.

  “Now, that’s just a bad law,” Terrance said. “I say, you want to go around flash — ”

  “Can we get back in there?” Rick repeated.

  “What for?”

  “Find this Ohio boy with a bad haircut — ” Rick rolled his eyes “ — who I hope remembers that I fucking apologized to him.”

  “Maybe he remembers why you had to,” Terrance said. “You’re late already.”

  Rick glanced over to the barrier. Now that they all had clothes on, he spotted one kid waiting at the end.

  “Sign your autographs, Rain. We gotta go.”

  The kid’s face lit up. Would that ever get old? He called back to Terrance over his shoulder. “Then I gotta find that one dude. He might know … take five minutes.”

  Terrance shook his head. “Your ass.”

  Damn right. But with just one hit of luck …

  It’s all about skill.

  He didn’t really believe that anymore, but hearing it play in Carolyn’s voice, it sounded different. Somehow. Rick took the pen and his second CD from the kid, maybe fourteen with a big grin. “What’s your name?”

  “Luke.”

  Rick scribbled his name. “Luke, ain’t you told your mom you shouldn’t listen to me?”

  Luke grinned. “You can tell her yourself.”

  Rick looked up to see a woman with the same dark red hair, maybe forty years old, holding out his last CD. Maybe you couldn’t tell anything by looking.

  4: The Pheromone Factor

  “Is anybody here having trouble finding a good man?”

  Carolyn’s opening question was received with laughter and applause. One voice shouted over the noise in the bookstore.

  “You know it!”

  “So what’s the problem?” Carolyn asked. “Are you too dumb to know the difference between the good guys and the bad guys?”

  They booed, and she grinned again. About fifty women were crowded between the book displays, one of her smallest audiences since her agent had convinced her to hire a private publicity firm. She was grateful for the small size of her ‘before’ gatherings. Following one of those dismal experiences, a store clerk offered her a slim volume on her way out. Carolyn couldn’t be insulted when she saw the title: Presentation S.O.S. She managed to forget every talk she’d given before that bold clerk saved her life.

  Tonight, she’d felt only the normal hint of jitters when she walked to the lectern. After everything that had already happened in New York, this was a cakewalk.

  “I didn’t think it was about intelligence, either,” she said. “And it’s not that he’s a smooth talker, I’ve resisted smooth talkers before. It’s not that he’s handsome, I’ve resisted handsome before. And I know I’m not an idiot.”

  They laughed, though Carolyn felt a twinge at the ancient memory of hindsight that had once told her ‘idiot’ would have been a step up.

  “So why do I feel like I’ve been drugged into picking another loser?” She made eye contact with one woman, who nodded. “Do you know the single most important factor for a woman when she chooses a mate? More important than how a man looks, how he sounds … or even how he feels?”

  That suggestion garnered a few smiles.

  “It’s how he smells. And it is a drug. A chemical receptor in the female brain that signals something very important. Through the sense of smell, biology has found a way to determine that this mate will be a good match. For one thing, and one thing only.” She paused. “Remember what you wanted most from him?”

  The faces revealed the answer to her question; they always did. Eyes widened, brown, blue, green, hazel and gray. They remembered.

  “Those pheromones promise a good combination of diverse genes. But they won’t tell you how soon it’s gonna be before that man starts hunting up more places to spread his DNA. They won’t tell you if he’ll keep a job, treat you right, or be faithful for a minute. And you, dear sister, will have been caught by the pheromone factor.”

  Carolyn smiled. “But you’ll probably get pregnant real easy.”

  They laughed again, and she relaxed as the questions began.

  “All I’ve heard about pheromones is that the perfume industry wants to duplicate them.”

  Carolyn nodded. “The silver bullet of aphrodisiacs. You can save your money. One formula won’t attract all women any more than one man can.”

  “Denzel!”

  “The exception that proves the rule,” Carolyn said, before nodding to a woman on the far side.

  “What about this. Suppose I do get this pheromone thing going. Suppose it’s super strong, or whatever.”

  The women in the bookstore tittered.

  “That doesn’t mean that he’s the wrong guy, does it?” The woman spread her hands. “I mean, just because he smells right, does that make him wrong?”

  The chorus of voices answered on top of each other.

  “Girl, you better watch out.” “Just make sure you’re using your head.” “You know it can’t be all about the nose, girlfriend.” “Common sense first!”

  Carolyn cleared her throat. “I think … ”

  The din died down, but she couldn’t continue. So many times, a random comment had triggered a snatch of his lyrics in her head. Never before had the rushing wave of Rick Ranière himself assaulted her senses. Never before had she been so certain of the power of pheromones.

  The women waited for her answer.

  “I think,” Carolyn repeated with a small smile, “these ladies have your back on that one. Not necessarily. But be careful.”

  An hour later, when her car ferried her to tape an interview at a local TV station, Carolyn knew that as insane as this day had been, she would forever be grateful for one thing.

  She’d never catch another whiff of Rick Ranière again.

&nbs
p; 5: Jesse

  “I’m getting a cab.” Terrance pushed open the front door of the restaurant and a cloud of cigarette smoke blew in. “You gonna be late for Louis.”

  Big surprise. Rick stepped back from the door and fanned the smoke away. “Maybe I’ll just skip it.”

  Terrance didn’t hear him though; he was already outside. Rick sighed. Ninety minutes with his manager right after suffering through ninety with Beatrice. The only bonus was that he’d get a drink soon.

  Rick watched Jesse come around the corner with his uncle Martin, whose thinning hair contrasted with Jesse’s thick blond mop. He was taller than Martin, now. And Rick. Six feet was enough height for a little brother. Jesse grinned when he saw him, then Beatrice appeared and spoiled the view. Rick shifted his gaze to Martin, who held out his hand. Rick shook it, thought of the other handshake he’d been offered tonight. He fingered the slip of paper in his pocket.

  “Thanks for coming,” Martin said.

  “Thanks for having us.”

  He glanced at Jesse, whose uncle had bought advance tickets to go up the Empire State Building. Jesse didn’t want to go; he wanted to come with Rick.

  Like she’d overheard his memory of that private conversation, Beatrice’s tight lips reminded Rick of the two long months left until eighteen candles would hit Jesse’s birthday cake.

  Then Martin surprised him, reaching for his wife’s hand. “Let’s give them a minute.”

  Beatrice started to open her mouth, but she followed Martin out. More smoke swirled in until the doors closed behind her, and Rick relaxed as the constant scrutiny left with her.

  He nodded toward the restroom and headed down the hall, partly to get away from the traffic still coming in and out of the restaurant. “So you got yourself the big trip to New York. Was it worth wearing a dress?”

  “Would you quit calling it that?” Jesse pushed open the men’s room door. “It’s a cap and gown.”

  “Gown, dress, same thing. Did you learn anything in that school?”

  “Ricky … ”

  “Seriously, Jess. I’m proud of you.”

  Jesse tried to shrug that off, but he was still seventeen and his easy grin escaped whether he wanted it to or not. “It’s just high school, Ricky, it’s no big … ”

  Jesse cut himself off and veered into a stall. Maybe it was genetic — talk first, think later. Rick hit the urinal, waited for Jesse, punched him in the shoulder when he cleared the door.

  He pretended like it hurt. “I wish I could hang with you.”

  Rick reached for the faucets. “To watch me write? Exciting.”

  “Why are you staying here anyway?” Jesse asked.

  “Free hotel room. You gonna wash your hands?”

  “But why aren’t you just staying home with … ”

  Rick raised his eyebrows. “What’s that?”

  Jesse didn’t answer; he was too intent on getting the soap out of the dispenser.

  “Home with who?”

  Jesse shrugged. “I thought you were back together.”

  “That’s really fucking weird, Jesse. ’Cause I don’t remember telling you that.”

  “Ricky, I’m sorry — ”

  “So prove it and stay off those groupie message boards.” He grabbed a paper towel so thick it didn’t feel like paper. “Christ, you got my damn phone number — you want to know something, you ask me.”

  Jesse nodded, still not looking him in the eye.

  “You think maybe you could just concentrate on my official website?” He regretted saying that when his brother apologized again. Jesse designed the damn thing and kept it running. Rick sighed. “Man, half that shit ain’t even true.”

  Jesse shut off the water. “So is it true?”

  “Is what true?”

  “You and Mary, did you break up again?”

  Rick wasn’t sure how Mary bitching at him for fourteen days straight two months ago counted as being back together in the first place, but he nodded anyway.

  “For good?”

  Hell, yeah, but how many times had he said that? Mary didn’t even believe it herself; he’d had to shut his phone off at dinner. This break was different, really different, but he couldn’t explain that. To anyone. So he just shrugged.

  Jesse didn’t respond, except to toss his paper towel down the hole in the counter and head out of the bathroom. On the sidewalk out front, Terrance and Beatrice each had a cab waiting. She was on her way to see an old college roommate who lived in Manhattan and who Rick learned more about over dinner than he’d ever wanted to know about anyone in his life. Martin stood next to her, Terrance chatted with both of them. Terrance didn’t mind Beatrice. Terrance didn’t have to deal with her.

  Rick stopped a few yards away and glanced down the line of restaurants, a cluster of smokers at the front door of each.

  Jesse said, “You sure you don’t want to come along? We’re taking the subway.”

  “Ha ha,” Rick said.

  Beatrice’s mouth tightened up. She put her hand on Martin’s arm, pretended to listen to Terrance.

  Jesse shook his head and grinned.

  “What?”

  “I still can’t believe you were on Letterman.”

  “With Baby-G,” Rick added.

  “I might have put that the other way around on your website.” Jesse laughed. “And only you still call him ‘Baby-G.’ You see that video on BET UnCut? He’s all grown up.”

  Rick glanced at Beatrice, who either didn’t hear her nephew or never flipped channels at three AM. “You know, she wakes up once, she’ll yank that cable right out your house.”

  Jesse just grinned. “I like your song better.”

  “Ain’t my song either. One verse.” The last decent verse he’d written.

  “The whole song sounds more like you than him. You know he’s streaming it from his site?”

  Zeus had told him that on the phone Saturday night. Right before Mary kicked up the drama in his other ear.

  “It went up Friday,” Jesse said. “I guess because of the show. Why didn’t he do his single anyway?”

  The only reason that made sense was that Gil James was making his final payment for Rick introducing him to Zeus. Even though Gil hadn’t said that. “Don’t know.”

  “I’m glad he did.”

  He should be glad, too, but it felt like a handout. Rick didn’t have to respond though, because Martin called for Jesse.

  “I was trying to get Ricky to come,” Jesse said. “It’s only a hundred and two flights up.”

  Terrance and Martin laughed. Beatrice didn’t seem to be in the mood.

  “I’s wantin him to come wif me,” Rick said. He saw Beatrice flinch, just like she always did when he didn’t talk white enough for her. “Guillotine be havin a party tonight.”

  Jesse’s eyes went wide, Beatrice stiffened, and Rick held back the grin — harder than he’d thought it would be — when she shot him one of her patented ‘don’t fuck with me’ looks.

  “Ricky.” Jesse drew his name out, like he was five years old again.

  Rick grinned then, held out his hand, and yanked his brother into a hug. He breathed him in, once again surprised by that total feeling of relief. That he still had him.

  Jesse gripped him tighter. “I’m proud of you too, Ricky.”

  Christ. Rick swallowed hard before he let him go.

  “I’ll be back home Saturday,” he said as Jesse started toward Martin. “Catch a movie or something?”

  Jesse waved. “And I’ll watch you tonight!”

  “Why? Your eyes closed the first time?”

  Jesse laughed as he and Martin headed for the subway. He turned back and waved again before they disappeared around the corner.

  Terrance tapped his watch and got in the cab, which left Rick on the sidewalk with the smokers and Beatrice. She was watching him. Again.

  “PG, of course,” Rick told her. “No sex or violence. And for Pete’s sake, none of that God-forsaken rap music.”


  Her mouth tightened, but he didn’t wait to see any more. He was halfway to the cab before she spoke.

  “Why do you insist on provoking me?”

  Oh, so close. She hadn’t moved, except to cross her arms.

  “Christ, Beatrice. It was a joke.” She would need a sense of humor for that. Rick shook his head and reached for the door.

  “You know he idolizes you.”

  He whirled. “I don’t have a fucking problem with that.”

  “I don’t want him caught up with people like Guil — ”

  “You mean famous people? Or just the black ones?”

  Her eyes jumped toward the smokers, but she was safe. All white. “That’s not — ”

  “Or is that just your excuse now?”

  Beatrice sighed. “When are you going to stop blaming me for taking him away from you?”

  “Soon as you quit trying to make it permanent.”

  “I never — ”

  Total bullshit, Rick stopped it with one look.

  She took a step toward him when a couple of pedestrians steered around her. “I only wanted what was best for him.”

  “And I didn’t?” Rick slammed the cab door. “Who the hell do you think took care of him for the first five years? Lydia?”

  The smokers had stopped chattering and started listening, and Beatrice noticed. In her world, people kept their hollering and door slamming inside.

  “I know you did,” she said, her voice low. “But he needed a home, a real one. And Ricky, I’m sorry, I should have been strong enough to take both of you.”

  “You didn’t have no call to. You ain’t my daddy’s sister.”

  She looked away, her lips a thin line dividing her long face. “It shouldn’t have mattered, you didn’t deserve any less than Jesse just because — ”

  “Beatrice, I don’t want your fucking pity. The reason we ain’t having this conversation in Cleveland right now is ’cause I’m a be on national TV tonight. I think I’m doing all right.”

  “Are you really?”

  He lowered his voice. “What are you asking for? Another piss test?”

  “No, Ricky. I’m asking how you are. Honestly.”

  “Honestly? Be a lot better if I could see my own brother without dealing with this shit every time.”