“What’s a real job, Rose? Someone telling you what to do? Setting your hours and your pay? If you have a chance to do something on your own, why not?”
“So, basically, be like Foster…”
He laughed. His laugh rumbled the entire bed. It made me shiver. That sleepy laugh sound between the sheets.
“Yes,” he said. “Be like Foster.”
He kissed me again. We were officially done talking for the moment. His hands eased down my body and settled comfortably between my legs. I made the decision right then and there to help Molly with her new coffee business. Just be like Foster…
The thoughts were chased away as Foster’s fingers began to move. I gasped and sank my nails into his arms. I pulled at him. He kissed me harder.
And that was my night.
We fucked. We talked. We fucked again. We talked again.
My secret hope was that if we went all night, tomorrow would never come.
Because I knew that tomorrow, I would lose Foster again.
36
We Can Recover
Foster
I wasn’t sure when I shut my eyes, but I opened them to the sun filling the bedroom. It was strange to wake up and not have the feeling of a sledgehammer crashing against the front of my skull. Or my mouth bone dry from all the whiskey the night before.
It was also strange to look down and see Rose’s head on my chest. I touched her hair and my heart skipped enough beats to make me wonder if I was dead. And this was some kind of in between stage of life and death. Living everything that would have been my greatest dream.
Slowly, I rolled Rose to my right. She stirred but didn’t wake. She nestled her cheek against the pillow with a soft purring sound. I felt a tearing sensation in my chest, the kind of pain that told me I was still alive. That’s all I knew inside my chest. Pain.
I leaned forward and kissed Rose’s cheek. I purposely ran the tip of my nose to her hair to smell her. A little sweat and her shampoo. I liked the smell of the sweat better because it reminded me of the night before. Stone cold sober, loving Rose’s beautiful body over and over. I couldn’t tell myself the last time I had sex without being stupid drunk. Without getting halfway through it as though it were a chore and have my eyes start to shut. How many times I would fall asleep mid-fuck. Wake up the next morning wondering what had happened to end the night. Or just losing all ambition, blaming it on whiskey dick, able to talk my way out of whatever situation I had gotten into.
Not with Rose. She deserved all I had to give and that’s what she got.
At least between the sheets. Everywhere else in life…
I slid out of the bed and found my clothes. Boxers and jeans on, I crept from the bedroom and helped myself to the kitchen to make us some coffee.
Halfway through brewing, the apartment door opened.
“You said you were going… whoa.”
I froze in place and watched as two women walked into the apartment.
“Morning,” I said.
“Uh, good morning,” the other woman said.
“Who are you?” the first woman asked. “And are you here for me?”
“Or me?” the other asked.
“He’s here for me,” a third voice said.
I turned my head and there was Rose with a sheet wrapped around her body. I slipped an arm around her and pulled her close.
“Holy shit,” the first woman said.
“That’s not fair,” the second said. “I want one.”
“How was your night?” Rose asked.
“I’m guessing nowhere near as good as yours,” the first woman said.
I just took it in, eyebrow raised.
“This is Foster,” Rose said. “Foster, this is Becca and Karly.”
“Wait,” Karly said. “This is Foster?”
“The Foster?” Becca asked.
“The one and only,” I said. I looked at Rose. “So you’ve been talking about me?”
“Only when I drink too much wine,” Rose whispered.
“Wow,” Karly said. “Hello, Foster.”
“Can you two give us privacy?” Rose asked.
“I think you’ve both had enough privacy,” Becca said.
“I made some coffee,” I said.
Rose scratched at my back. “Bedroom. Please.”
I winked at her. “Of course, Rose.”
“Bye, Foster,” Karly said.
“Nice to meet you both,” I said.
“Put some music on to drown out the screams,” Becca said.
They both started to laugh.
Rose’s cheeks were bright red.
Back in the bedroom, Rose shut the door and locked it. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You said you had roommates.”
“Yeah, I did. I, uh, that was weird.”
“Not for me,” I said.
“Of course not. You have three women eye humping you.”
“Yeah, but only one women gets to really hump me,” I said.
Rose laughed. “You’re smooth, Foster.”
I eased my body against hers, pinning her to the door. “So, should I turn on the music? To drown out the screams?”
“Easy,” Rose whispered. “I’m going to go grab a shower first.”
“Maybe I can join you.”
“Ah, right. Conserve water.”
“Exactly. I’m all about saving the world, Rose.”
She laughed and pushed me away. “You know where to find me.”
I watched her open the bedroom door.
She paused and looked back.
There was this moment where our eyes locked tight. We didn’t say a word to each other. But we both knew exactly what that moment was.
It was our goodbye.
I sat on the edge of the bed as my phone rang.
Jess.
I ignored the call, but I knew a message would be coming next.
I should have been naked but I was fully dressed. I heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. I imagined the water hitting Rose’s body. Her hands touching her wet skin. Enjoying a hot morning shower after a night of hot… you know…
The thing with me being alone in her room was that I could breathe in the moment without the distraction of Rose herself. To take in her life and what she had done and where she was going. It wasn’t a pity party for myself, believe me. It was just reality.
My phone buzzed.
Foster, please. At least talk to me this morning. Since we’re sober.
I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t be pissed that much at Jess. She was right… most of the time, anything that happened in our relationship was when we were drunk. Except I wasn’t drunk last night. And what happened, I would do it again. Over and over. No matter how many hearts I shattered along the way. If it got me a night with Rose…
I walked to the bedroom door and opened it.
The apartment was quiet. Rose’s roommates were somewhere in their rooms or had gone out again. I walked the hallway and put a hand to the bathroom door. The shower running. Rose - my Rose - in there.
Hey Rose, I’m sorry I had to leave. I’m sorry I left forever waiting in the empty bed. I’m sorry you can still smell me on your pillow. I’m sorry I never gave myself the chance to hurt you again.
I put my hand to my mouth and walked away.
I told myself I was going to talk to Jess and then get back in touch with Rose.
I’d see Rose again, but not like this. It would be casual. A head nod. A quick smile. A quicker wave. Or just pretend that we didn’t exist to each other.
Jess told me she had a drinking problem and was going to find help. She suggested the same for me. Only I didn’t have a drinking problem. I had a Rose problem. I had a heart problem. I had a falling in love problem. I had a worry about my past problem.
I started the day in bed with Rose, feeling whole.
I ended the day with a bottle of whiskey, promising myself it would be okay, knowing it was a lie, and feeling empty.
>
PRESENT DAY
37
A New Smoke Thing
Foster
I strummed the last chord and looked across the open studio to the glass. Carl stood with his hands at his hips as the producer moved left to right across a massive soundboard that he used to tweak and perfect the sound and the song.
I waited a few seconds and when Carl gave me the okay sign, I took the guitar off and leaned it against the amp. Gazing around the studio, I knew the list of bands that had recorded in here. Yet I was there for another quick session to lay down some guitar tracks for some artist that some record label was going to try and launch. That was on top of writing a few songs with a few bigger names in music, which could possibly produce some paychecks for me.
All in all, I was doing exactly what I was meant to do. I was playing music. I was getting paid to play music. More than that, I had distance from everything that weighed me down. That may have been the wrong thing to think, but it was the truth. I thought about Rose every single day. I had talked to her several times too. I didn’t just up and leave and leave her with a broken heart again. Well, her heart may have been broken, but I was trying my best not to keep it broken.
I went from the bright and open studio into the darker room where the producer was still touching things up. Adding my guitar parts where he wanted them in the song that played through the speakers. I could picture teenage kids listening to this on the radio, thinking about their boyfriend or girlfriend. Not exactly the rock star dream I once had, but it was better than sitting in the basement of that old church now coffeehouse giving out guitar lessons.
“How are we doing?” I asked.
“Perfect,” Carl said. “We’re going to let Bryan here do his magic and see where we end up.”
“I’m going to take a break then,” I said.
“I’ll join you,” Carl said. He pointed at me and winked. He clamped a hand to Bryan’s shoulder. “You good here?”
“Fine,” Bryan said without looking up. He turned to face a stack of computers.
I shook my head. I understood how this all worked. But in some way, I felt like it was all cheating and processed.
Carl patted my back and we exited the studio.
Outside, the midday sun blasted on my face. I put my head back and soaked it in. It had been just one recording session after another. Day in and day out. Writing songs. Presenting them to Carl to give me an idea of what was good and bad. Taking them to the studio. Sending them to the labels. Having executives call Carl at the last second, looking for a guitarist to play a set.
I had been living in a glorified hotel room since getting there… what, ten weeks now? Maybe longer. I hadn’t looked at a calendar. I didn’t give a shit about dates and time. Carl told me where to be and how long to be there. When I was alone, I drank too much and wrote more songs than I told Carl I actually did. There were just some songs I would never let go…
Hey Rose, I want to hear your voice, just one more time. I know you’re mad at me. I’m mad at myself.
“Here, have one,” Carl said.
I looked at the pack of smokes and nodded. I plucked one from the pack and lit it up. I replaced one addiction with another. I remember when I used to smoke in high school to look cool. Then I quit. Then I started again. And promised myself I would cut back slowly, no matter what. Now, it was just a normal routine for me. I couldn’t get to Rose and taste her sweet lips and something sweeter elsewhere on her body. So I smoked like a damn fool.
“That’s going well,” Carl said. “It’s bullshit.”
“Whatever,” I said.
“Your elevator music pitch idea is going to work,” Carl said. “Those first four tracks are getting noticed now. It’s different. An all music sound. Good news with that is you could record that anywhere.”
“Anywhere?”
“Unless you plan on living here,” Carl said. “Which I’ve said to do for years.” He took a drag and turned his head, blowing smoke. “I mean, look at this fucking place. It’s forever summer. Bikinis everywhere. The ocean at the end of every fucking sidewalk. I mean, Christ, Foster, what the fuck could keep you from this place?”
“Nothing,” I said without thinking her name.
“You’ve been hesitant for years.”
“Family issues,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Carl nodded. “Right. Every rock star has his demons. I get that.”
“Carl. Go make some phone calls. Make me money. You’re not my friend. You’re not my therapist.”
His eyes widened. He stuck the cigarette between his teeth. “Right.” He reached into his pocket and took out an envelope. He spit the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it. “Here. This is an advance on three of the songs you recorded. They were accepted and will be used on two future albums. Two are slated to be radio pushed hits. Which is big airtime and bigger money. This should at least get you started.”
I took the envelope and waited for Carl to leave before looking at the check inside.
When I looked, I turned my head. I did a double-check to make sure my eyes hadn’t been lying. They weren’t. It was a good feeling to see a comma on the check. But I knew that there could have been two commas on that check and it still wouldn’t have given me what I wanted.
I folded the envelope and stuck it in my back pocket. I leaned against the building and tried to enjoy my smoke. It tasted like shit though. No matter how many of them I smoked, they never tasted good. I held the smoke out and watched it slowly burn. I dropped it and stepped on it. I told myself it was my last one.
My track record with breaking bad habits was not good.
I walked to the door and started to open it but stopped. I looked over my shoulder and thought about everything Carl had said to me. From the day I had the chance to meet him, he wanted me on the west coast. He tried selling it to me every damn time we talked. And he was right. The weather. The women. The feel. I had been there for a short while and I fit right in. I played guitar every day. I got paid. I hadn’t gone out and enjoyed the scenery and the life, yet.
“Soon,” I whispered.
It was coming down to the point where I had to make my final decision to stay or leave. Staying meant a whole new life for me. Leaving meant going back to everything that left me empty. Casually bumping into Rose again, wondering when things would build up to the point where we would end up in bed, dusting off old feelings, waiting for new heartache. Or dealing with my father. Or my brother, Rhett.
Christ, my brother.
I spoke to Rhett a couple times. I made it clear I was out here working. I promised him that we would figure out who we were. Lucky for him he was connecting with our old man. It was a shock the old man wasn’t in jail, but if me being gone meant he stayed out of jail, Rhett had a father, and Rose could find happiness, then it was worth it. Then again, I wasn’t living in hell. At least on the outside I wasn’t.
My phone started to ring and I let the door handle go. I pulled my phone from my front pocket and looked at the screen.
I gritted my teeth.
Rose.
She would call at the most random times to talk about the most random things. As though she had something on the tip of her tongue and couldn’t say it. Funny part was, all she had to do was say she loved me and I would probably rip up the check in my pocket and fly back to her.
I laughed.
I put the phone in my pocket.
I didn’t feel like talking.
It was better this way.
Eventually Rose would stop calling. Eventually I would become a distant memory.
It wasn’t like I left anything behind for her, right?
38
Starting to Feel Full
Rose
I bit my lip and thought about calling him again. I knew if I did, he’d answer. What person wouldn’t? Three or four calls back to back would get someone’s attention. Then what? What would I say to him? Just blurt out the obvious? Well, t
he obvious to anyone who saw me. Not Foster though. He was lost in his own world. Just the fact that I had a number to reach him was enough.
Of all the people that suddenly came through for me, it was his father. That’s right. Kevin. The guy who spent more time in jail than out in the free world, he was the one who managed to track down Foster’s manager and get his new cell number. The first time I talked to Foster I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to tell him I hated him. But just hearing his voice and knowing he was okay… that was enough. He apologized for how things happened, which I was used to. He said he got a chance and had to take it. He left everything behind, including his phone. He wanted to cut ties. Which was just Foster being a dumbass. I reminded him that people cared about him. That included me and his brother, Rhett.
So his idea of breaking ties ended up crashing down hard because everyone had his new number and could call him whenever they wanted.
Fool.
I touched the phone. Eventually I would have to tell him. I would have to just say it. That I was pregnant with his baby. That after all these years of madness between each other, our wild love did something right. Something good. I had the ultrasounds to prove it and could change his entire life with one simple sentence.
A knock at the window took my attention away from the phone. I looked up and Molly opened the door to my office. She slipped in and shut the door.
“How’s Mama and baby?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said.
“Stand up. I want to see again.”
“Molly…”
“Come on. Please.”
I pushed at the desk and got to my feet. I turned a little and let Molly make some kind of weird girlish squeal as she looked at my ever growing baby bump. It had been easier to hide a month ago, but not now. Not that I had any reason to hide it. I playfully concocted a story where Foster went off to record and make lots of money so he and I could play house with our baby. Everyone accepted the story and I cried into a pillow every night, wishing it would come true.
Let You Go Page 24