by Ann Lister
“Hey boss man, we gotta hit the road soon,” the bodyguard called into the room. “People out here are getting nosey.”
“Yeah, I’ll be right out,” Michael yelled back over his shoulder.
“Good thing we have a day off tomorrow,” Annie commented. “I think the band could use some time and space after tonight.”
“Probably right,” Michael replied, his voice trailing off.
“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” Annie asked pensively.
“Yeah. I’m supposed to be seeing my son.”
“Your son?”
“Yes, I have an eleven year old son with my ex-wife. On very rare occasions she actually allows me to spend time with him.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm.
“You sound as if you don’t expect to see him tomorrow.”
“And you’re probably right about that. The visitation schedule has a way of changing last minute - every time.”
“Well, I hope you get to see him.”
Michael stepped toward her and stopped, gazing into her eyes. They stood silent, each wanting to say something but the words failed to leave their mouths. Annie had questions. Michael had the answers. They both wanted each other.
“Ah, boss…” the bodyguard’s head popped into the doorway again.
“Yeah, I’m on my way,” Michael replied. “I guess Bull is getting itchy. I better go.”
“His name is Bull?” Annie asked.
“Yep. It’s short for Bulldog.” Michael smiled and headed toward the door.
“Have fun with your son,” Annie said, as she watched Michael disappear around the corner.
Annie spent her day off catching up on housework and laundry. Through it all, her thoughts were consumed with Michael. She wondered how his day was going with his son, what they were doing and where they went. Was he seeing his ex-wife too? Maybe that was part of the deal.
Bottom line, she wondered if he was thinking of her as much as she was thinking of him. She seriously doubted it. By eight o’clock she had fallen asleep in bed while watching the television. Several hours later a low rumble woke her. She sat upright in bed, peering toward the kitchen door. A shadow appeared behind the window curtain that hung on the door and then she heard the knock. Annie sucked in a deep breath.
She darted from her bed and quickly peeked out a side window toward the driveway. The moon illuminated Michael’s shiny black Porsche. There was no time to change, put on make-up or, even comb her hair. She grabbed a satin robe off the chair and ran her fingers through her hair as she went to the door.
Cautiously, she pulled the door open a crack. Michael stood on the step wearing a white t-shirt and worn blue jeans with holes in both knees.
“Did I wake you?” he asked, his smile warming her.
“No, I was watching TV,” she replied.
“You’re a lousy liar,” Michael laughed. “Can I come in?” he finally asked. “Or would you like to talk through the crack in the door?”
She rolled her eyes at him and opened the door.
Michael stepped into the tiny kitchen and scanned the room. It was comfortable and homey. Then his eyes fell upon her. She was standing a few feet away from him, bare-legged up to her firm thighs, and wearing a sky blue nightie, trimmed in white lace. The robe she wore hung loosely at her sides. Her hair was loose and wild. His heart began to beat faster.
“Wow, do you always answer the door looking like that?” he asked, his eyes starting at her toes and working up toward her hips. He wondered if she was wearing panties.
Annie quickly pulled the robe tightly around her narrow waist and blushed till her face was hot to the touch. “I wasn’t expecting company,” she sighed, pulling nervously at the hem of her robe and nightie. It was a useless effort.
“Kind of makes me wish I was your mailman.”
Annie giggled at the thought of him wearing a postal uniform.
“Come in, the living room is in there. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go change,” she said, heading into the bathroom, relieved to be away from his stare.
A few minutes later Annie emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Michael was sitting on her couch, remote control in hand, quickly flicking through the cable channels. Annie stood, hands-on-hips, and laughed at the vision.
“That must be a guy thing?” she said.
“What?”
“Guys and the remote control.”
“Oh, I suppose so,” he laughed and turned off the television.
She sat beside him on the couch, tucking her slender legs beneath her as she sank into the flowered seat cushion. She was wondering why he was there; after all, it was against the rules -- or so he said.
The couch was positioned in front of a large picture window, directly opposite her bedroom. The television sat on a table, half way between the two rooms, and swiveled around making it possible to watch from either area.
Michael had his head tipped over the back of the couch and was gazing out the window and up at the moon and stars. Annie loved to do the same when she was feeling sad. Several minutes passed and Michael sat quiet, deep in thought.
Finally Annie spoke. “Did you have a good time with your son?” she asked, staring at the exposed skin on his throat and wanting to kiss it.
“I didn’t see him,” he answered blankly, still looking up toward the sky.
“I thought you said…”
“I was wrong,” he snapped, suddenly jerking his head upright.
Annie jumped.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Michael apologized. “It’s my ex-wife up to her usual tricks.”
“What do you mean?” Annie asked, realizing it was none of her business.
“She knows how tight my schedule is, and yet, every time one of my planned visitation days rolls around, mysteriously my son can’t make it. She also knows I don’t have the time to drag her back into court every time she disobeys the custody agreement.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“He’s almost twelve and I haven’t physically seen him since his tenth birthday. We talk on the phone a lot but it’s not the same.”
“That’s a lot of time in between visits,” Annie said, reaching out to touch Michael on the forearm. Feeling her touch, he turned to face her.
“It’s in my lawyers hands now. I’m through playing her games.” Michael shifted on the couch. “Listen, I didn’t come here to complain to you about my ex-wife.”
“I don’t mind listening,” she said.
Michael shook his head. “I’m really sorry about all of this. I feel like I’ve drifted into your life and totally messed it up. I’ve started fights with your ex-husband and probably driven a permanent wedge between you and the rest of your band.” Michael ran his hands through his long dark hair and pulled it tight between his fingers, making a ponytail. “I bet you’re wishing you had gotten Brian or someone else from my band to sponsor you in the contest.”
Annie gave Michael a playful shove on his shoulder. “You’re crazy, you know that?” Then she got off the couch and headed toward the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked, opening the refrigerator.
“Water would be nice. Thanks.”
Michael watched Annie move around the dimly lit kitchen. She was humming softly to herself. Even in the bulky clothes she had changed into, she was still a knockout. She came back to the living room carrying two glasses of ice water. Michael had both muscled arms draped over the back of the couch, which pulled the t-shirt tight across his chest. His broad thighs spread out at forty-five degree angles in front of him, as if he were making a statement. He was studying her movements with interest. Seeing his gaze made Annie stop in place, nearly dropping the two glasses.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, suddenly feeling naked again.
“Gawking at beautiful women is another guy thing, Annie. Sorry, but I couldn’t help myself.”
Annie set the
glasses down on the coffee table and turned to him. “Do you want me to change again? I think I might have a burlap bag around somewhere that I could slip into.” She tried to stifle a laugh as she sat back down and pulled her knees up to her chest as she did.
“It wouldn’t matter. You’d still be gorgeous.”
Annie reached for her glass and took a sip of water. “Michael, what’s it like to play on stage in front of twenty thousand adoring fans?”
“Whoa! Where did that come from?”
“I’ve seen you play in concert and it’s amazing to watch you and Brian interacting with each other and the audience. I know what that’s like for me as a spectator to watch but I’ve always wondered what it’s like for you to be up there playing and in the moment.”
“Sex.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s like sex,” Michael stated. “Think of the best sex you’ve ever had and multiply that feeling a hundred times. That’s what I feel when we’re all clicking in sync. It’s pure magic. I remember the first time it happened, too. The noise terrified me.”
“Really?”
“Yep, I could feel a vibration coming at us from the back of the arena before I could really hear their voices. Then the roar hit us like a tidal wave. I was having trouble hearing our music through the monitors. Brian was loving it and I didn’t know whether to turn and run or stay and sop it up. It was a feeding frenzy and I felt like the main course. I’m sure all the drugs and booze in my system at the time only amplified my paranoia, but it was totally intense.”
Annie’s eyes widened when she heard Michael refer to his drug abuse.
“You seem shocked to hear me say that. Ex-junkies don’t object to talking about their old demons, Annie. You said you’ve read about us, so why the stunned look on your face?”
“You’re so blunt about it.”
“I call it like I see it. All my years in recovery taught me that,” he said.
“Have you ever gone back to the old life?”
Michael smiled. “I personally don't know of any addict that didn't find themselves drifting back into their old ways after coming out of rehab. It took me three times before I was finally able to put it behind me. I've been clean and sober now for over a decade but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still tempted. I think that will always be a part of me. It took me a long time to realize I didn't need the shit in my system to be a good musician. And once we all got rid of our demons, we were free to enjoy making the music again and that's what it's all about.”
“Three times in rehab?” Annie asked.
“It wasn’t easy for me to admit I was an addict. But after doing drugs for ten years they no longer did anything for me except to make me sick. I knew then it was either get clean or die. When those are your only options, it’s easy to make the right choice.”
“I’m glad you didn’t let the drugs win.”
“So, how about you? Are you in recovery too?”
“From what?” Annie asked.
“I don’t know, booze, drugs.”
“You’ll laugh when I tell you this, but I never had much interest in doing anything like that to excess - except for music. I like having control of myself. I’ll have a drink from time to time but being drunk has no appeal to me.”
“You’re smart.”
Michael stopped in mid-thought, suddenly mesmerized by the smile on Annie’s magnificent face. “Why are you smiling?” he asked.
Annie shifted her position on the couch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. But I couldn’t help thinking of how different you are in person from what I thought you’d be like.”
Michael chuckled. “Oh, really? What exactly were you expecting?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Sure,” he answered, resting his head back against the couch, his face turned toward her.
“Okay, I guess I was anticipating a man with an enormous ego and a rock star attitude. But after spending some time alone with you, I realize you’re actually kind of reserved, soft spoken and shy.”
Michael smirked and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “Well, I can agree with some of what you said. But, trust me, I do have an enormous ego and an attitude but I make a serious effort to leave that all on stage. I don’t consider myself shy though. I think I’d call it ‘guarded’ and that is more out of necessity than a personality trait.”
He studied the lines of her delicate face as if etching each detail to memory. “You have no idea how difficult it is for me to open up to new people. I’m always searching for their hidden agendas. Do you know what I’m saying? So much of my life is public. The little bit that remains private is really hard for me to expose. I hate to be that cynical but I guess it comes with the territory. It’s difficult for me to trust, and that’s probably because I’ve been screwed too many times in the past.”
Annie leaned in closer to him. “Do you think I have an agenda?”
A sly grin appeared on his chiseled face. “My gut instinct tells me no.”
“Good, I’m glad you think that because I don’t have an agenda,” she said.
Michael smiled lazily at her. For some reason he was able to relax with her which was rare for him. It felt comfortable, like he’d known her all his life. It felt right. They continued to stare at one another in total silence, their eyes liquid and smoldering. He wanted to touch her so badly. It was pure torture being this close to her and not touching. Finally, unable to handle the mounting sexual tension, Michael turned away.
“Are your parents still living?” he asked, desperately trying to get his mind off her mouth.
Annie stiffened. “No,” she answered quickly, suddenly nervous where the conversation was drifting.
“My father died when I was in my early twenties,” Michael stated. “And I lost my Mom a couple of years ago.”
Annie nodded. “I think I read something about that.”
“What about your brother?” he asked. “You mentioned something the other night about a younger brother.”
“He’s gone too,” Annie replied.
“Really? Wow.”
Annie shifted uneasily on the couch. Then her head dropped into her lap. “I don't like telling people this because when I do people tend to look at me differently and get all sympathetic when it really isn't necessary. It was a long time ago. I think Gary is the only one that knows the full story.”
“You don’t have to tell me, Annie. I was only trying to get to know you better. That’s all.”
Annie tipped her head back and gazed out the window. “I lost my family when I was fifteen. It was a car accident and I was thrown from the car,” she said quietly. “I was the only one that survived.” She raised her eyes to his. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”
He was silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully. He sensed there was a lot more to that story but also knew it was none of his business and decided not to push the subject. “Even still, I’m guessing that really shaped your life.”
Annie refolded her legs. “It’s safe to say, I’ve been taking care of myself since I was fifteen.”
He took a sip of his water and set the glass back on the coffee table. “I have a brother, but we’re not close.”
Annie cocked her head in surprise. “Really? I’ve never heard you mention him in interviews.”
He smiled. “We’re not close,” he laughed. “His name is Tom. He’s eight years older than me and did everything right. He was my mother’s favorite and a big bone of contention between her and I. He was the stereotypical over achiever: college graduate, still married to his first wife, had kids that my mother could actually see, and became a college professor at Columbia University in New York City. Kind of hard to compete with that.”
Annie touched his arm thoughtfully. “How could you say that, with all the awards you’ve won and the success you achieved with your music?”
Michael inhaled deeply. “My mother only chose to see the long haired musicia
n and recovering addict side of me. Sure, I got married, but then I got divorced. I gave her a grandson, but she never got to see him.” He glanced off toward the bedroom. “No matter what I did, it always paled against what my brother did.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
He shrugged. “Don’t be. Families suck. I spent most of my life trying to prove myself to her. Now that she’s gone, I realize the only person I had anything to prove to was myself.”
“That’s very true,” she replied.
He looked back at her and grinned.
Annie shook her head and stiffened again. “The fifteen years I had with my family were hell. My father was a drunk: a really mean drunk. He was a liar and a cheat, treated my mother like shit, and verbally abused us all. We were constantly moving because he could never keep a job. In some ways, it was a relief to be away from him.”
Tears spilled from her eyes. “I do miss my brother though. He would have gotten a kick out of my music career.”
Michael wiped the moisture from her cheeks.
“This is depressing. Can we talk about something else?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“So why did you get divorced?” he asked.
“Wow! That’s a bit direct - and another depressing subject.”
He quickly turned to look at her. “That’s probably too personal. Never mind.”
Annie tipped her head nervously. “No, I don’t mind answering. It’s really pretty simple,” she said with indifference. “Gary had a weakness for groupies.”
Michael stifled a laugh.
“You’re smiling, so let me guess, you have a weakness for groupies too,” she said.
Michael shook his head. “Hardly. But groupies are a by-product of the business, Annie. They’ll always be there. You can ignore them for so long, but sooner or later…”
“So, that justifies cheating?” Annie’s back began to stiffen.
“No, it doesn’t make it right, it just is what it is.”
“That’s bullshit. If you really loved someone it would be easy not to cheat.”
“Yes, I suppose so. But I’m willing to bet you’ve had a few male groupies panting over you from time to time at a show,” he said.