Legend_A Rockstar Romance

by Ellie Danes

  “Well, if you two agree on it then it must be gold.” I gave a derisive snort and clutched my guitar harder.

  Cora slipped her hand out of Rick’s and stepped shyly onto the old rug that marked our recording space. “Why don’t you ask other people then? Wouldn’t it be great to play for a small crowd? I bet all the locals would love an impromptu concert.”

  “How about we use the alley over by the pharmacist?” Rick asked. His suggestion dissolved into a goofy grin directed at Cora. “Remember?”

  “That trio from high school?” Cora grabbed Rick’s shoulder and laughed. “Oh, god, what was his name? He seriously thought he was the next Bono.”

  Rick caught his breath between chuckles. “Caleb Dickinson. He only knew three chords!”

  Even Bobby had heard the story before and the three painted the picture of a very bad open-air concert just off Main Street. The trio had used the mouth of the alley to amplify their sound.

  “And remember it was Officer Johnson who had to break it up?” Cora laughed harder and gasped for air. “Most of the crowd was cheering for the police stopping all the racket but Caleb thought it was for him. Officer Johnson had to let him march off like a hero.”

  I put my guitar down and crossed my arms. “So, that sounds like a great thing to never do.”

  Cora took a breath and settled down. “It’d be different if it was you and you know it.”

  That made my jaw clench. “You mean if it has the Morris name attached to it.”

  Bobby diffused the tense quiet with a few bars of the bass line. “Who cares what you call it? Let’s just play.”

  I refused to unlock my arms and pick up my guitar. “Cora doesn’t want to hear a basement session. Not enough hype, not a big enough crowd.”

  She studied my face. “I just think it’s a good song, and I wish you’d share it with the town.”

  Rick caught her idea and nodded at her side. “Besides, even you have to admit the greenhouse has better acoustics. What if we do a little improv session there and open it up to whoever’s around?”

  Bobby paused his quiet bass rhythm and patted his stomach. “Tell everyone it’ll be around dinner time, and I bet it’d turn into a potluck.”

  “The song’s not ready,” I snapped.

  “Then how about we just play for fun?” Rick asked. “You’ve been on a roll lately and Bobby and I can still keep up.”

  Cora watched me cautiously. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  I curled my fingers into a fist to stop the urge to smash my guitar. It did sound like fun, and that was the problem. Messing around and improvising with other musicians was my favorite thing to do until people started staring and whispering. It was only ever a matter of minutes before I overheard my father’s name and the entire music history of my family crushed any freedom I may have felt.

  “Letting a bunch of townies toss video of me onto the Internet for all the music trolls to trash? Yeah, sounds like a lot of fun,” I said.

  Rick put his hands on his hips, still standing too close to Cora. “We’ll have a ‘no phone’ rule. Simple. It’d just be friends and neighbors.”

  “Your friends and neighbors,” I pointed out. “I’m still the freak show from the big house, remember?”

  “No, you’re just the talented motherfucker who’s gone all reclusive,” Rick said. “The novelty would wear off as soon as they heard you playing.”

  “It’s solid, man. Solid,” Bobby said.

  I knew they were trying to be supportive, but I was sick of people pushing me. “The song’s not ready; we’re not ready. Can we just leave it at that, please?”

  Cora patted Rick on the shoulder and started backing toward the basement stairs. “I’m sorry. I should be going. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Stay!” Rick held out a hand again. “You’re here so you might as well hear us play the whole thing through.”

  Bobby started up the bass line again. Rick waited until he was sure Cora wouldn’t bolt up the stairs and then he ran over to settle down at his drum kit. I picked up my guitar but didn’t pluck a string.

  “Did you need something or were you just curious?” I asked Cora.

  Her cheeks warmed. “I was heading to Caroline’s and thought I’d pop in.”

  “Oh, so you came to see Rick?” I asked.

  Rick put down his drumsticks, and Bobby shifted off into his own bass riff. Cora rubbed her arms, and her eyes darted to the basement stairs again.

  She cleared her throat. “I’ll get going and leave you guys to it. Big plans for later?”

  Her eyes were on me, and I remembered the note I had left her that morning. That was before she spied on me and pushed the whole concert thing. My spine felt stiff, and I couldn’t bring myself to return her hopeful look.

  “Probably not,” I said.

  Bobby was off in his own world, but Rick watched us with open curiosity. There was something else in his face, a dark flash directed at me after I put Cora off.

  “You mean I’m free to spend the evening with my mother at the art studio?” Cora asked. “Great. That’s always fun.”

  She shot me another glance, but I was still too stiff to respond. Cora didn’t understand how fast the pressure could swallow me. Just the thought of how fast the world would trash Ian Morris’ son for bad playing had ruined my mood. The evening ahead had a dark cloud hanging over it because I knew Cora would circle back to my playing. It didn’t seem like she could help herself.

  “I’m sure your mother wants to catch up with you, hear all about your life in the big city, and how your job’s going.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.

  Cora drew herself up a little taller and turned away from me. Her confused expression cleared quickly but not before Rick caught sight of it. He popped up from his stool and joined her at the foot of the basement steps.

  “Hey, before you go, I found an old yearbook, and you’ll never guess what Tony Roberts wrote in it.” Rick looped his arm through Cora’s and had her smiling at some old, shared memory.

  “Who’s Tony Roberts?” I muttered to myself as they huddled together over a table in the corner.

  Bobby slowed down his rhythmic plucking and grinned at me. “Bothers you, doesn’t it.”

  I glared at Bobby from the corner of my eye. He always appeared to be in his own world, but the man was the most observant I had ever met.

  “Why would I care if they want to rehash old high school memories?” I asked.

  “‘Cause you can’t make her laugh like that,” Bobby said.

  I gritted my teeth and didn’t want to admit Bobby was right. “I didn’t know they were such old friends.”

  “Man, that’s not it at all.” Bobby spun his stand-up bass and picked up another bass line.

  “Then what is it?” I snapped.

  Bobby didn’t answer at first, he just continued to play as he watched Rick and Cora chatting. Cora’s eyes darted toward me now and then, making me feel like an even bigger grump than I had sounded. Rick, on the other hand, looked only at her.

  My friend and drummer didn’t just look at Cora, he gazed at her, and a sudden realization hit me in the stomach like a punch: Rick was in love with Cora.

  Bobby saw my mouth drop open and nodded. “Yup. Since childhood. Never saw a sweeter crush but, then again, Ricky’s just about the sweetest man anyone’s ever met.”

  “You mean, he’s in love with her?” I dropped my voice to a whisper.

  Bobby didn’t answer. Cora knocked over a stack of magazines as she flipped through their high school yearbook, and Rick immediately dove to help her. He used the unsteady magazine stack as a reason to get closer to Cora, if only for a moment.

  My stomach felt hollow as I thought back to the party at my mansion. Rick had hailed us just as Cora and I had ducked into the greenhouse together.

  “He was probably waving at her, not me,” I muttered.

  “Poor hopeless romantic,” Bobby agreed.

/>   I picked up my guitar and plucked a few chords just to fill the echoing worry in my head. It wasn’t the first time my fame had ruined things for my friends. I had been accused before of stealing women or high jacking flirtations when all I had done was get recognized. Rick was a good friend and the last thing I wanted to do was get in the way of his happiness.

  Cora squealed with laughter over something Rick said, and it took everything I had to not choke my guitar. The burning feeling was back in my chest, but I pushed it down and forced myself to follow Bobby’s bass line with a new chord progression.

  “I don’t know,” I told Bobby. “Maybe he’s a hopeful romantic.”

  Bobby considered that while he played and watched the two friends talking. Then he shook his head. “Nah, man. You know she keeps looking at you.”

  I snorted. “I can’t be that arrogant. I mean, look at him. He’s the nicest guy.”

  “You think you can’t compete?” Bobby asked.

  “I think there shouldn’t be a competition at all,” I said. Cora glanced at me again, but I refused to meet her eye.

  “Now that’s arrogant,” Bobby pointed out.

  I had to laugh. Cora and Rick took that to mean the air had cleared enough for them to rejoin us. The newly formed song kept going and Rick started to tap out a rhythm on the yearbook he still held. My fingers still felt stiff and I hated the pressure I felt to play, but the music seemed to move over my guitar on its own accord.

  Bobby watched us all curiously and then ended the quick session with a funky flourish. “I don’t know about you, but I think we should call it ‘Happy Hour,’” he said.

  I agreed but swallowed my next thought. I wanted to ask Cora out, but I had already snapped at her and ruined our potential plans. Plus, Rick was standing next to her and still looked so hopeful.

  Cora looked shyly at me. “So, does that mean you’re all done for the evening?”

  I said nothing, and Rick frowned at me before diving in to save Cora from my awkward silence. “I say it means we should head to the bar for cheeseburgers.”

  “Do they still have tater tots?” Cora asked with a grateful smile.

  “I’ll even buy you your own basket,” Rick promised.

  “Then it’s a date,” Cora said.

  I watched them head upstairs and then I slowly put down my guitar. Maybe it was all for the best.

  Bobby gave me a curious smile as I rubbed my chest again. “Sometimes a crush is just a crush and nothing more,” he said.

  I tried to shrug it off. “Guess it’s up to her.”

  I felt Ricky’s arm tense under mine as we stepped away from the door of his record store and walked down Main Street. He was full of his old, awkward stiffness, as if he was bracing for a sharp fall. I knew it was me who made him so tense, and it wasn’t hard to guess why.

  “It’s been a while since we hung out just the two of us, old friends,” I stammered.

  Ricky relaxed. “Yeah, just a beer or two to catch up.”

  The evening suddenly felt on much more even ground. I knew Ricky held out hope that somehow an unseen spark would be uncovered between us, but it was such an old hope that it was really more an unnecessary reflex. He had always been more comfortable as my friend despite his adolescent crush.

  “And tater tots, right?” I asked Ricky and squeezed his arm.

  “And you’re going to tell me all about your great life in NYC and why I should move there.” Ricky opened the bar door for me and waved at the bartender.

  I slipped into the high top that Ricky pointed at and shook my head. “You shouldn’t move there. Record store people there think they’re a whole better species. I like you here; a hidden gem.”

  “It does help my online sales.” He ordered two beers and a basket of tater tots with a series of practiced signals to the bartender. “People like the pictures of Main Street and the shop and the whole rock ‘n’ roll background.”

  “Location, location, location, right?”

  Rick shrugged, his face clouded with seriousness, and then he jumped over the sad subject. “How about we talk about you and Storm?”

  “What?” I yelped right as a waitress arrived with our drinks. “I mean, it’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

  “And you didn’t have plans tonight?” Rick asked.

  I picked up my beer and clunked it against his glass. “I’m here with you. As friends.”

  Ricky winced. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

  “Sorry, it’s just—”

  “Don’t worry!” Rick recovered and took a drink of his beer. Then he grinned. “It doesn’t matter because did you see Storm’s face? If he thinks this is a date, then that’s good enough for me.”

  “His face?” I tried to keep my tone even, but I was still too loud, too anxious to ask.

  “He was so jealous. Man, I never thought I’d see that, and it was me he was jealous of!” Rick chuckled and lifted his beer with satisfaction.

  “That’s not why I came, Ricky. You’re wonderful. I really would date you if we’d ever had that spark, you know?” I said.

  My old friend shook his head. “No changing the subject. You and Storm.”

  I bit my lip. “I’m not trying to make him jealous, but do you really think he was jealous?”

  Rick nodded and took another long sip of beer. “I do, and I think it’s good for him. Storm could use a little want.”

  “What, does he always get what he wants?” I asked.

  “No, not like that. It’s just that Storm’s been in a rut and wanting something, or especially someone, is a great motivator,” Rick said.

  “So wise,” I said, toasting my friend.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’ve dated people, you know, Cora. I’m pretty good at the whole relationship thing. I just need to meet someone.”

  “Not enough tourists lured into your honey trap?” I asked.

  Rick laughed but then slumped against the table and sighed. “Less every day.”

  “And you really haven’t said anything to Storm?” I watched Rick try to act like it was no big deal.

  “The last thing he needs is guilt. Storm’s got his own life, he’s entitled,” he said.

  Our fried food arrived, and we dug in, trying to salvage the easy camaraderie of earlier. Luckily, there was a game on over the bar and plenty of ridiculous old high school memories to laugh about.

  “Too bad you never played drums in high school. It might have helped your chances,” I teased.

  “I like surprising people though no one’s really that impressed when they hear the record store guy plays the drums,” Rick said.

  I shook my head vehemently while finishing a tater tot and then gasped, “But you’re really good!”

  “And then when people are surprised, it feels kinda like an insult,” Rick said with a rueful smile.

  I slapped his hand with my napkin. “I’m serious, Ricky. You’re good. Would you ever leave the record store to play?”

  “I’ll be lucky if Storm invites me to play again ever,” he joked.

  “I didn’t see this look you think meant so much,” I snapped. “He seemed like he didn’t care if I came or went. No, more like he never wanted me there in the first place.”

  Rick held up his hands. “Whoa. Storm’s just a little shy about playing for people. I think it’s understandable, considering the family pressure he feels.”

  “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just so curious,” I admitted. “And he’s really good. Do you think he would ever record for real again?”

  “Maybe he’ll get inspired,” Rick said.

  He teased me more on the walk to my mother’s art gallery. We jostled each other like siblings and laughed about old mistakes. Rick still looked a little wistful, but he was cheerful. And convinced that I was just what Storm needed.

  “Or, more specifically, you’re what he’s been wanting. A new Muse,” Rick said.

  I shoved him. “Stop. Storm thinks I was prying
and now he’s pushed me away. And he’s right, I’m not good for anyone. My life’s a mess.”

  Rick caught my arm and twirled me back onto the sidewalk. “Come on, then. Back to the bar. That sounds like a whole other round of drinks.”

  I laughed and wriggled free. “Sorry. I’m all done for the night.”

  Rick opened the door for me and then walked back down Main Street whistling. When I turned around, my mother was standing with her arms crossed.

  “You’re not toying with that poor man, are you?” Caroline asked.

  “Mother! No! Rick and I are just friends. We went out tonight, but he knew it was just buddies catching up,” I said.

  “So, whose Muse are you?” my mother asked. Her eyes twinkled.

  “You were listening in?”

  Caroline shrugged. “Small town. You were on Main Street. Fair game.”

  “Rick thinks I could be Storm’s Muse,” I admitted then waved my hands in a frantic slashing. “No. What am I saying? The whole thing with Storm was just a fling.”

  “Is just a fling?” Caroline asked. “Or are you heading back to work?”

  I froze. We still hadn’t talked about my job or why I was able to spend so much time hanging around my hometown.

  “What? Trying to kick me out already?” I opted for joking, but Caroline saw right through me.

  She studied my face closely then shrugged. My mother was never one to push. “Well, I’ve got a class tonight, so maybe we can talk about all that in the morning?”

  “Oh, wait? You really are kicking me out!” I laughed but knew better than to fight my mother. She gently shoved me toward the door.

  “I have a class tonight, and I don’t need my clients hearing any of your snorts or comments,” my mother said.

  I stuck myself in the doorway. “What if I want to join your class?”

  “Then I would say you and I need to talk right now about whatever it is you are avoiding.” My mother crossed her arms and studied my face closely again.

  I shrunk back and opened the door. “I misplaced my phone somewhere. I have to go find it anyway.”

  “Good luck, my love,” Caroline said.