POP ROCK

by Charity Ferrell

My lungs are knocking against my chest while I walk to the middle of the stage taking slow, deep breaths. This isn’t how I typically start my shows. I usually have this kick-ass intro with lights and videos, but tonight I’m doing something different. It has to be done, even though I’ll probably pay for it later.

  The cheers from the crowd suffocate my thoughts as I grab the microphone from the stand. I gulp before holding it up to my mouth.

  “Hello Atlanta!” I scream. “How is everyone doing tonight?”

  The audience screams louder. Their reaction is my favorite part about being on stage, seeing the excitement on their faces. I fucking love my fans.

  I pause, waiting for them to settle down before going on and possibly creating career suicide. All eyes are on me as they wait for my next move.

  “I’m sure many of you will find out about something that happened today, but I wanted to be the first to tell you and give you my side of the story. About an hour ago, I punched a guy.” I hold up my swollen fist. “Battle wound.” The camera phones rise in the air, and I know I’m about to start live streaming on thousands of social networks. “The media will most likely report that I have anger issues, or that I’m out of control, but that’s not why I did it. I did it because I have a problem with men who disrespect women, especially women that I care about.” Mouths drop. More phones go up in the air. “If you care about a woman and someone does something terrible to her, defend her, and that’s what I did. So to all of my fellas out there, let your girl know she’s appreciated.”

  The audience roars with cheers. If the guy recording us exposes me, I know my fans will still have my back.

  Will the media twist the entire story? Probably.

  Is it going to be breaking news? Most likely.

  But right now, I don’t give a shit. I’m ready to perform and then hang out with my woman.

  I hold the microphone back to my mouth. “Now that’s done, let’s get this show started!”

  “How many do you have?” I ask Libby when I get back to my dressing room when the show ends.

  I rip my sweat-covered shirt from my body and throw it down onto the floor. It’s burning up in here. She grabs a towel, places it under cold water, and starts to run it down my neck. My mouth falls open as I let out a moan.

  “I’ve been afraid to look,” she answers, helping me cool off before grabbing her phone. “Fifteen from Thomas. Two from your mom.”

  “Time to see mine.” I punch in the code to the room safe and pull out my phone. My stomach rolls while I scroll through all of the missed calls and text messages. “I win. I have eighteen from Thomas and twenty from my mom. That’s not counting their texts, either.”

  She falls down in a chair and runs a jerky hand through her straight hair. “They’re probably on a flight right now to murder us.”

  I chuckle. “Doubt it. If I’m dead, they get no bread.”

  “True, so they’re on the way to kill me then.” She draws in a deep breath before slowly releasing it. “Thank you, by the way, for that.” A light flush crosses her cheeks.

  I grab her hand, and she allows me to lift her up from the chair. “Babe, you don’t have to thank me for standing up for you. As your man, that’s my job. I support you, care about you, and will always defend you.” I run my lips up her neck until I hit the soft skin of her ear. “Although you do pack quite the punch, Rocky Balboa.” I laugh and can feel her chest moving against mine. “You did some damage to that asshole.”

  She’s smiling from ear to ear when I pull away.

  Mission accomplished.

  “He did deserve it.”

  “Damn straight he did.”

  She jumps at the sound of my phone going off.

  I look down at her. “Should we answer it?” She bites the edge of her lip, shaking her head. I laugh. “Let’s make ‘em suffer.”

  “How about we make them suffer, and I make you feel good?”

  “Mmmm … I always love your bright ideas, sunshine.”

  37

  Libby

  “Do you think people will assume you’re only here because of what happened last night?” I ask Knox.

  We’re in the backseat of anther rented SUV, and George is behind the steering wheel. Knox looks out the window as we turn into the private entrance of the children’s hospital. This visit has been on Knox’s schedule since the very beginning, but I’m well aware of how the media twists shit. They’ll make it look like it’s a last minute storyline to take the heat away from him punching Adam.

  “Probably,” he deadpans.

  “That’s sad.”

  “The word can be a sad place, and if that’s the kind of person people want to think I am, let ‘em fucking believe that. I’m done caring.”

  There’s no missing his frustration. We had a long ass night with phones going off non-stop. Knox ended up deactivating his social media accounts temporarily because of the backlash he’s been getting. His fans might support him, but those who aren’t are making him out to be some hotheaded criminal.

  Guilt crashes through me. I’m the one to blame for the entire situation, and not one video was posted of me hitting him. Adam is giving interviews right and left, trying to get in his twenty minutes of fame and look like the good guy, at Knox’s expense.

  “Maybe I should make a statement and tell them the truth,” I say. “I’m the one at fault for what happened. Not you.”

  He snakes his hand out and captures mine. “I’m not letting them go after you. This bullshit will blow over in a few weeks, and that dude will go back to being some nameless asshole.” He lifts our hands and presses his lips to mine.

  God, how did I manage to get someone this perfect? Someone who gives me this sense of security but makes me feel like I’m free at the same time.

  There’s no doubt he was being honest about Stella. He’s protecting me like he did her. He’d rather put his ass on the line than see me get hurt.

  “You’re amazing, do you know that?” I ask, leaning forward to give him a kiss.

  “You’re the only person I need to hear that from,” he replies.

  “You two lovebirds ready?” George asks. “Or do you want to keep making out back there?”

  I push his shoulder, laughing. “Yes, we’re ready.”

  We get out, and a dark-haired man dressed in scrubs is waiting for us at the entrance. George opens the hatchback, and Knox helps him unload the gift bags we made last night. After the show, we raided the merchandise trailer and sent George toy shopping.

  George drags out the red wagon stuffed in the back, and we load the gift bags onto it. Knox grabs the handle and pulls it to the door while George takes Knox’s guitar and swings the strap over his shoulder.

  The man extends his hand out to shake Knox’s. “Thank you for coming. The children have been buzzing with excitement all morning,” he says. “I’m Matthew.”

  “That makes two of us,” Knox tells him before introducing George and me.

  Matthew punches in an access code, and we follow him through the door. Crayon colored artwork and pictures of cancer survivors line the hallway walls. I’ll be reading every single one of those on our way back.

  Matthew leads us into a room that’s filled with kids, parents, and staff. Pain grips at my heart, squeezing it roughly, when I see the children – some underweight, some with IVs connected to their bodies, some with pale complexions, some with no hair.

  Cancer doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care what age, sex, or race you are. It only sweeps through your life like a hurricane while you’re trying your hardest to hold onto the life raft you’ve been given.

  Fuck you, cancer.

  My mood lifts, though, as I watch the children’s eyes light up when they see Knox. I stand behind him, clutching the handle of the wagon, and this might be one of my best experiences on this tour.

  “Who are all of these rock stars in here?” Knox asks.

  The frustration he had in the car has evaporated, and there is
nothing but excitement in his voice now. It’s not forced or fake. A fresh energy has burst through him. The smile on his face as he walks through the room is so damn genuine I want to throw my arms around him, shower him with kisses, and whisper how phenomenal he is.

  “I know you guys didn’t get the chance to make it to my concert last night,” he goes on. “So I thought I’d bring the show to you.”

  Everyone cheers in response, some clapping their hands, as bright smiles take over their faces. Knox grabs his guitar from George and takes a seat in the chair at the front of the room.

  I stand to the side, resting my back against the wall, and watch as he starts to play. I’m taken into another world while listening to the children sing along with his every word.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It’s the most angelic sound I’ve ever heard. Tears prick at my eyes as I pull out my phone and start to record them. This will keep me going on my worst days. Whenever I think I’m going through something rough, I will pull this out as a reminder of how incredibly lucky I am.

  They sing four songs together. The children that can get up start dancing while others sway to the melody. The cheers erupt again when Knox finishes.

  “Wow, I think you sound better than I do,” he tells them. They giggle in delight. He slides his guitar off and sets it down. “I also brought you some goodies.”

  That’s my cue.

  Everyone’s eyes go to me when I wheel the wagon over to him, trying to control my sniffles.

  A tiny girl with glasses points her finger at me. “Is that your girlfriend?”

  Knox laughs. “You’ll have to ask her that, darling. I keep begging her to be, but she turns me down.” He winks at the girl. “What do you think I need to do to convince her?”

  “Kiss her!” the girl replies, and laughter along with some “yucks” follow her answer.

  “Buy her diamonds,” a boy inputs. “That always works with my mom. Dad says she loves the bling!”

  “Get her a puppy!” another suggests.

  Knox glances over at me. “What do you think, sunshine, will any of their ideas help me win your heart?”

  A blush creeps over my cheeks, and I nod, giggling. “You’re doing very well on your own.”

  “Oh, make out already!” a kid in the back yells.

  “Gross,” a smaller voice shouts. “Girls don’t want to make out with boys until they make them their wives.”

  Knox snaps his fingers at the girl. “Exactly. Maybe she’ll agree to that one day, and I’ll get that lucky kiss. But for now, how about we give out some toys!”

  The mention of toys completely offsets their attention on my relationship status to Knox. We spend the next two hours handing out toys, playing with the children, and taking pictures.

  You don’t always see the real person behind all of the headlines. Why don’t they write about this amazing man who visits children fighting terminal cancer, who helps pay medical bills for those who can’t afford treatment, or who agrees to every Make-A-Wish?

  Knox is right. The world is sad.

  What’s even worse is I would’ve never believed he was as charitable as he is had it not been my job to schedule and keep track of it all. I don’t like being proven wrong, but in this case, I’ll make an exception. I’ve been wrong about him since the very beginning.

  When it’s time to go, Knox waves Matthew over. “Before we leave, can we make a round through the rooms of children who couldn’t make it? I’d like to surprise them as well.”

  Lord help me, every day I’m falling deeper and deeper for this man.

  I’m falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

  “Do you want to know why I call you sunshine?” Knox asks when we get back into the SUV.

  I’ve always been curious about it, but I assumed it was because of my hair. “Why?”

  “When you walked into Thomas’ office, I was having a shitty day. I was even thinking about pulling out of the tour and quitting it all. When I saw that I’d snapped at you instead of him, I felt like an asshole. You were there, giving off this positive light, and even though I didn’t want to bring that light into my life, I knew it was the best for me. I gave you a hard time because I was trying to stay in my hole of darkness – trying to drown everything away with alcohol and acting out.”

  “You seemed fine to me. You were throwing parties and going out clubbing.”

  “Numbing your mind with booze and bullshit doesn’t mean you’re happy.” He frowns, running his hand over his face. “This probably sounds stupid to you.”

  “No, I know from experience that’s what men in the industry tend to do. They try to numb themselves. Do I understand it? Not exactly. But it isn’t stupid.” I grin. “And I love my nickname, now even more since I know what it means.”

  My phone vibrates, and I pull it out of my bag.

  Thomas: Tell Knox to answer his phone. We have a problem.

  I hold my phone out and show Knox the text.

  “I turned it off when we were at the hospital,” he says, digging in his pocket. He turns it on, and the smile on his face fades into a frown as he starts to read the messages.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  He shakes his head, unable to look at me, and stuffs the phone back into his jeans. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s obviously something. You look like you were told the tour is cancelled or something.”

  “It’s not important.”

  “Then tell me,” I push.

  “One of my biggest sponsors cancelled their contract with me today.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Netphase.” Netphase is the new up and coming cellular network that is making millions from using celebrity endorsements.

  “But isn’t that like a million dollar contract?”

  He nods, lifting his shoulder into a half-shrug. “It’s not that big of a deal. Their loss.”

  “It is a big deal. You just lost a million dollars because of me!”

  “I have plenty of money. It’s fine.”

  I unlock my phone. “I’m calling Thomas right now and telling him to fix this.” I snarl. “Better yet, I’m calling Netphase myself and giving them a piece of my mind.”

  He plucks my phone from my hand. “Don’t. It’s done.” He sighs. “We had a good day today, don’t let this news put a damper on it. I lost some money, so what? It happens.”

  I lean back in my seat and nod, even though the guilt is seeping in stronger. How can he think I’m sunshine when I just cost him a million dollars?

  38

  Knox

  I rub the back of my stiff neck while following Libby into the bedroom. I’ve been holding in the words I’m about to say. Saying them will mean it’s time for me to face reality, and reality isn’t my best friend at the moment.

  “This is it,” I whisper. “Our last night together.”

  It’s late, after midnight, and I’m wiped after tonight’s show. My feet are killing me. My body is sore as fuck. But there’s nothing that’s going to stop me from staying up as late as I can to savor our time together. I tried convincing her to reschedule tonight’s show, but she wasn’t having it.

  Typical Libby – more concerned with my career and her responsibilities over everything.

  She flies home in the morning. Sadness pivots through me while I think about how she won’t be next to me when I wake up in the mornings, or waiting there, a water bottle in her hand, as soon as I step off the stage after ending a show. Those small things I’ve become accustomed to with her are about to end.

  It’s going to hit me hard.

  I don’t want her to go, but asking her to bail on college and throw away her dreams would be selfish of me. She feels the same way about asking me to take time off from my tour and music.

  We’re stuck between a rock and a hard place – caring about each other too much to let them miss out on something so important to them, even if it means we’re breaking our own hearts in the process.<
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  It’s bad timing.

  And timing is so damn crucial in relationships – it’s a cloud lingering over you, giving you challenges that can make or break your love, and you can only hope you make it to the sunlight.

  She drops her bag and kicks off her sandals when I flip on the light. “I swear, it feels like time has flown by, yet so much has happened.” She pauses, scrunching up her adorable nose. “If that makes sense?”

  “It does, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

  We’ve traveled thousands of miles together, gone through highs and lows, and our hearts have developed with every one. Two weeks have passed since the fight with her ex and the bullshit backlash that followed, but the guilt is still with her, I can tell, even when she’s lying about it.

  She grins. “Me either. This tour has been some of the most enjoyable months of my life. I’ll never forget it.” She raises her wrist to look down at her watch. “We have t-minus eight hours until I have to leave, how about I go out with a bang?” She reaches down to grab the hem of her dress and pulls it over her head.

  I lick my lips at the sight of her standing in front of me wearing only black lace panties and a matching bra.

  I dart over to her, nearly tripping on my feet. “Literally. I’ll give you the best bang you’ve ever had, sunshine.”

  I capture the band of her bra in my fingers, unsnap it, and revel in the view of her tits spilling out. I take my time worshipping her, tasting each nipple, swirling my tongue around them, and then sucking hard on the peaks.

  Her face is flushed, our breathing slow, when I gently lay her down on the bed and start to trail kisses over her chest and down to her stomach – wishing time would stand still each time my lips hit her soft skin.

  I don’t want to lose this woman who’s changed my life in so many ways. She’s made me want to be a better man.

  Her legs part when I reach her thighs, and she trembles as I run my fingers along her pussy lips, feeling how drenched she is for me. I dive right in, devouring what I’m always starving for, and she whimpers underneath me, repeatedly begging me to give her my cock.