Satellite of Love

by Christa Maurice

  She put her arm around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder. “So what time does the show start, anyway?”

  “Didn’t we go over all this on the phone?”

  “We did, but your voice is so much warmer in person.”

  He pulled her tighter. “Let’s see. By now the guys in Eldrich should be here. I think we have a meet and greet with some local record store people.”

  “Like we did before?”

  “Sort of. They’re coming to us this time. There’re some contest winners coming too.” He guided her around the back and through the barricades. Why had he been worried about what to do with her? She wasn’t a kid. There was plenty to keep her occupied.

  “There was a contest?” she asked.

  “On the band forum.”

  She made a little sound, but they’d arrived in the greeting area and he didn’t have time to ask her about it because the meet and greet had started without them. About three dozen people grazed at the catering table or chatted up the other guys.

  “You want something to drink?” he asked her.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Hi, Bear.” The woman who stepped in front of them sounded breathless. She had the expression of someone far too excited and in need of an oxygen mask. “Is this your new girlfriend?”

  “Yes, it is and you are?” He held out his hand. A handshake, a photograph, and an autograph and on to the next one. At least he would have Maureen beside him.

  The woman ignored the hand. “Your last girlfriend was prettier.”

  Bear blinked. “What?”

  “She isn’t as pretty as your last girlfriend. Everybody on the forum thinks so.”

  Maureen put his arm through his and met his eyes, impassive.

  “Everybody on the forum doesn’t know her yet,” Bear told the woman. “Did you want a photograph?”

  “I can take it for you.” Maureen held out her hand for the camera.

  Class. She had class.

  * * * *

  Maureen scurried through the backlot to the stage stairs. The caterers had arrived with dinner. The guys in Eldrich had left garbage everywhere every night and even though Rudy told her it wasn’t her job to clean up, she did anyway. Leaping up the stairs two at a time, she met Tracy just offstage and the other woman handed her a towel.

  Watching Michael come offstage was almost the highlight of her day. He always looked about twelve feet tall and electric. Marc swept past first, snatched a towel from Tracy and kept going. All night long he’d been one technical glitch after another. Jack, his tech, arrived to take Marc’s guitar, hunched and miserable like he’d just run a marathon chased by whip wielding demons. Ty, right on Marc’s heels, was in a much better mood. Instead of grabbing a towel, he grabbed Tracy and kissed her. Then he did the same to Maureen and headed for the dressing room. Brian accepted a towel from Tracy.

  “Good show?” he asked Maureen.

  “Great show.” At this point, she was learning the difference.

  “Who’s the bassist for Def Leppard?”

  She knew that too, but it wouldn’t do to give the right one. “Fred Savage?”

  Brian ruffled her hair as he walked away.

  Michael scooped her off the floor and swung her around. Then he set her down and slanted his mouth across hers like he was starved for her. She rubbed the towel through his hair. Securing it around his neck, she leaned back. “Dinner’s here.”

  He squeezed her tighter. “My dinner is right here.”

  “I’ll have to take you up on that later. Come along before you crash.” She twisted out of his grasp and took his hand. Over her shoulder, she saw Jason shuffling off last. She hadn’t talked to him much, but she’d noticed that, unlike the others, he deflated the moment he stepped offstage. The others took a couple of hours. After particularly successful shows it might take until the next day before the glamour wore off. Not Jason.

  “God, I’m starved.” Michael pulled her toward the dressing room, falling into step beside Jason. “What the fuck was wrong with Marc tonight?”

  Jason snorted. Ahead of them, Marc reamed out Jack at the top of his lungs. The sound echoing off the cinderblock walls grated on her, and Michael draped his arm around her shoulders as if to protect her. As they passed the two men, Jason split off and Michael cursed.

  “You go on ahead, babe,” he said. “I need to stay here to keep the peace. Tell Rudy, would ya?” He gave her a little push as he turned back to the confrontation.

  These little blow-ups seemed to happen on a daily basis. The more time she spent hanging around with the roadies, the more of them she saw. It wasn’t too much different than recess duty except the combatants could really damage one another and didn’t end up crying. In two weeks on the road, she’d become as good at negotiating these little spats as Rudy or Gene, the road boss, and she didn’t leave bruises like they might.

  When Marc grabbed Jack by the shirt and hoisted him off the ground, she decided to intervene.

  “Fucking cut it out!” Michael bellowed yanking Marc’s hand off Jack’s shirt with a tearing sound. Marc still clutched a scrap of material in his grasp and Jack backed against the wall, gasping.

  “Like your shit doesn’t stink.” Jason reached across the group, giving Marc a shove.

  Marc turned his attention to Jason. “Listen, you whiny bastard.”

  “Alright everyone, let’s calm down.” Maureen stepped into the middle of the group. Another thing different about recess. Those combatants couldn’t keep arguing over her head.

  “Fuck you. Who’s whining now? It’s not Jack’s fault all your equipment is shit. Cheap bastard.”

  “Maureen, go get Rudy.” Michael tugged her arm.

  “Jason, this isn’t helping,” she said, and put her hand on his shoulder to hold him away from Marc. Her logic was flawed. Elementary kids didn’t out reach her either.

  “It’s his job to keep the equipment in top condition and if he isn’t doing it, he’s fired.” Marc leaned forward.

  “You have had no trouble the whole tour until now. Everything just fucked up at once,” Jack said.

  “Everyone’s tired and hungry. Why don’t we deal with this tomorrow at sound check?” Maureen held on to her calm tone by force. In all the arguments she’d broken up, she’d never felt in danger, but this one teetered on the edge.

  “We had to switch up the fucking set list because you’re a fuck up.” Marc reached for Jack again, but the other man stepped out of range.

  Elementary kids also didn’t swear quite so much. “The audience didn’t even notice the change. Everything went perfectly smoothly,” she said.

  “Maureen, come on.” Michael pulled her arm again. She had about ten more seconds before he picked her up and moved her out of the way.

  “I’m a fuck up?” Jack clenched his fists.

  “Yeah, you’re a fuck up.”

  “Look in a mirror, dickhead.”

  Marc leaped forward, but Michael stiff-armed him before he trampled her. Maureen ducked away, walking up Jason’s boots before he could move out of the way. Jack jerked backward into the wall. Marc slipped on the floor and landed on his rear.

  13

  “What the fuck is going on here?” Gene bellowed. A little man with a big voice, he could keep the entire tour on the road through force of will. He waded into the fray and grabbed Jack by the shoulder. “I’ve got a hundred and fifty guys standing around with their thumbs up their asses waiting for you to get his shit off the stage so they can tear down. Get to fucking work. You four go eat your goddamn dinner. I don’t want to have to listen to you bitch about how it was cold. Move it.”

  Then Maureen realized Jason was holding her up and she was standing on his feet. Elementary kids never, ever tried to go through her to continue the fight. Marc shot a glare at Jason and Michael before stomping down the hall.

  “You okay?” Jason asked, setting her back on the floor.

  Maureen nodded, but didn’t shove Michae
l away when he slipped his arm around her waist and stared into her eyes.

  “The divorce is final tomorrow.” Jason shrugged.

  “Great, so we have another day of this to look forward to?”

  “At least two.” Jason walked around them.

  Michael brushed his fingers through her hair. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah. It just took me by surprise.”

  “Next time I tell you to go get Rudy, will you go get Rudy?”

  She tried to laugh, but it came out pained.

  He led the way to the dressing room. Everyone else was already eating while Marc pontificated on how women break up bands.

  “Lennon was married before,” Jason said.

  “Yeah, but Cynthia wasn’t as much of a meddling bitch.” Marc’s eyes found Maureen’s. “The problem isn’t the woman, it’s the meddling.”

  “I don’t think you can blame the whole break up on Yoko,” Brian said.

  She went to the microwave and heated up what they were all calling Maureen’s Magical Elixir for Ty. Two parts honey and one part lemon, it ensured Ty didn’t spend all night and part of the morning sounding like Kermit the Frog. Was this what Marc meant by meddling? Making sure the table was clean and fixing the elixir? Meeting Michael when he came offstage to give him a towel?

  Michael kissed her cheek. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower.”

  Maureen delivered the elixir and brought their plates to the microwave so she could zap them when he came out. She didn’t want to be at the table right now anyway. They were still on the subject of why the Beatles broke up. She would much rather they made Zen koans out of song lyrics. Discussing whether or not having a gun made Billy a hero was less of a personal attack than figuring out how the wrong woman could destroy a band.

  “You really okay?” Jason asked. He leaned one hip on the table.

  “Of course.” She hadn’t had much conversation with him. Marc hated her, but Jason hated the universe. He kept to himself and hardly talked to anyone except Brian.

  “Marc is really being a dick to you.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, shrugging.

  “It’s not.” He shifted closer. “Don’t let him get to you.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Funny. Doesn’t look like it.” Jason lifted her chin with one finger so he could search her eyes. “You gotta let it go. Marc’ll back off.”

  Michael’s fist came into view about a half second before it connected with Jason’s face. “Michael!”

  Jason staggered backward into the catering table. Apples, oranges and pears bounced across the table and floor. Michael grabbed around her for him.

  She caught his arm. “Stop it.”

  “I can’t believe you’re hitting on my fiancee,” Michael snarled.

  “I wasn’t.” Jason pushed himself upright.

  “You fucking liar.”

  “He wasn’t.” Maureen adjusted her grip on Michael’s arm. Then she realized he was wet and wearing only a towel. “He was talking to me.”

  “Jesus, man, what is wrong with you?” Marc demanded.

  Michael swung around, nearly losing his towel. “You probably put him up to it.”

  Marc cocked one eyebrow. “Yes, the Cigarette Smoking Man called me last night and told me I needed to have Jason hit on your girlfriend to protect us from the aliens.”

  Maureen pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure if she should take that as a good sign because Marc liked watching The X-Files or if he was making fun of her. Or if she’d been watching a bit too much herself and was getting a little paranoid. “Michael, you made a mistake. Why don’t you just apologize and go get dried off and dressed so you can eat?”

  Michael fixed his glare on her.

  She backed up a step, bumping into the table. Her feet slipped out from under her. Jason caught her elbow before she went backward into the microwave. A hole opened in the middle of her chest. Did he think she was flirting with Jason? After two solid weeks of barely speaking to him?

  Michael turned, managing to glare at everyone in the room as he stomped back toward the showers.

  Shaking off Jason’s supporting arm, she went after him. “Michael, I swear we were just talking. He came over to tell me not to let Marc bother me.” Her voice echoed off the cavernous tile walls, its shrill tone making her wince.

  Michael had stopped in front of one of the six shower stalls. He yanked off his towel and started drying himself off, keeping his back to her. “Stop treating me like I’m a kid.”

  “What? I’m not. Honestly, nothing was going on.”

  “Michael, you made a mistake. Why don’t you just apologize and go get dried off and dressed so you can eat? You talk to me like I’m seven.” He turned around, his expression still furious. “I’m not a kid.”

  “I know.” She resisted the urge to back away again. She’d seen him angry before, but she’d never been on the receiving end. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that’s how it sounded.”

  “You talk to me like that all the time and it pisses me off.”

  “I’ll try not to do it any more.” To stop her hands from shaking, she clasped them together. “Jason and I were just talking.”

  “I know. Now.” He rubbed the towel through his hair. “Besides, you I trust. Jason does stupid shit all the time.” He threw the towel on the floor.

  She stooped to pick it up, and he caught her hand. “Leave it. Somebody will get it.” Towing her closer, he grinned. “I’m naked.”

  “I noticed. A little excitable too.” Her heart fluttered as he pulled her into his arms and not in the preferable way. The anxiety from the argument still crackled through her nerves. She pressed against his hard, solid body.

  “Too bad we can’t skip dinner and head back to the hotel.”

  “You skip dinner and you’ll run out of energy.” The jittery anxiety wasn’t going away.

  “Can’t have that.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “Let’s eat so we can go someplace more private.” He grabbed his clothes and started dressing.

  “I’ll go heat everything up.” She backed out of the room.

  In the dressing room, everyone was almost finished and they were working on song lyric koans. She heated up their meals and had them on the table by the time he came out. Sitting next to him, she could hardly eat.

  She’d thought she was used to the tension. Hah. Everyone chatted as if nothing unusual had happened even though Jason had an ice pack on his cheek. Before long everyone was being loaded into the bus for the long ride to the hotel. Michael settled onto the couch, still bandying around song titles so she sat down beside him. Resting her head on his shoulders, she tried to employ some of the tricks the roadies had taught her for sleeping anywhere, anytime. Nothing worked. She felt like she’d been drinking Mountain Dew all day long.

  At the hotel, Michael pulled her into the room and pressed her against the door. “I love you and I want to be with you forever,” he said.

  Unable to meet his gaze, she looked down and bit her lip. “I’m sorry I treated you like a little boy.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter. Do you forgive me?”

  “Of course I do.” He brushed his fingers through her hair. “Baby, to be honest I don’t think it was really about you anyway. Touring is rough. We bicker. You got caught in the middle and took it seriously.”

  “But I do treat you like a little boy sometimes.” She stared down at his shirt. He had her trapped between him and the door. Not that she minded, but he did seem to like to have these conversations in close proximity.

  “And sometimes I like it, just not so much in front of my friends.”

  “I can stop.”

  “Promise me you won’t stop loving me.”

  She looked up. His dark eyes seemed a little fearful, but she didn’t know why. She’d been the one screwing things up. Since the moment she met him, she’d been treating him like a child and he was no child. “I love you, M
ichael.”

  He cradled her cheek in his palm. “Good, keep it that way.” He leaned over and kissed her. She pulled her body tight to his as if it would erase all her tension. His kiss deepened as he slipped a hand around, captured her nape. She shook with the need for him. Heat washed through her. Her skin came alive to the light brush of his fingers.

  Waltzing her backward, he eased her onto the bed, trailing his hot mouth down her neck. When his hands touched her, they were hungry. He unfastened her jeans and slipped them off her in one motion with her panties and socks. Before she’d taken another breath, he was on her and in her. She cried out. Her body swelled around him, ready and hot. She arched as he thrust into her again. Clutching him, she was swept along by him. Loved. Cherished. Forgiven. He caught the back of her head, turned her lips to his and kissing her, thrust into her one last time. Over the edge she tipped, into a rich swirl of bliss.

  Still buried inside her, he collapsed on her chest with his face pressed into the curve of her neck. “You’re all I can think about. I can’t believe I haven’t screwed up on stage. I love performing, but I love our private shows too.”

  “You’re not thinking about quitting, are you?” He hadn’t mentioned it since that day in April, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been thinking about it. “I know how much you love doing this. I don’t think it’s going to be easy for you to give up.”

  “I know.” He nuzzled her neck. “I want that and I want this. All I want is everything. Is that too much to ask?”

  How was she supposed to answer? The urge to promise him that he could have all of her nearly overwhelmed her, but she managed to keep her mouth shut. She breathed deeply and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His hands roamed over her skin. Little tremors of pleasure rippled through her as he stirred inside her. He moaned against her flesh, starting to rock against her slowly.

  He drew her ear lobe between his lips, sucked it gently as he stroked in and out. “God, I love you.”

  Maureen ran her hands down his back, feeling his muscles moving under his skin. Head lolling on the pillows, she was swept by his strength until rapture took her again and everything dropped away.