Falling for his ANGEL_A Rock Star Romance

by Megan Hetherington

  Jonny accepted the beer, plucked off the ring pull and took a long drink. Relaxing back onto the bench.

  Three beers in and it was only ten o’clock. The constant bobbing of the boat and the alcohol was starting to make Jonny feel queasy. He broke off a piece of bread from the loaf he had packed, hoping it would soak up the alcohol a little.

  “You heard from Crash since you left?” Dirk declining the chunk of bread offered to him.

  “Not really. I heard their second album was a flop. The ‘new sound’ Simon was after didn’t go down too well with the fans. Not even sure if they’re together now.”

  “Yeah we lost contact too - when the record label dropped us.”

  “So what’s your thoughts on us doing some new stuff?”

  “To be honest, man. I’m not sure my heart is in it anymore. I’ll be thirty before I know it and not sure I can be bothered with it. Certainly dealing with producers and promoters and all that shit. Eliza and me have talked and think even a tour next year is unlikely.”

  “Really? News to me.”

  Jonny was upset Eliza hadn’t included him in their discussion. After a few minutes’ uncomfortable silence. Jonny asked, “So what are we gonna do instead?”

  “Dunno man.” Dirk shrugged his shoulders continuing to re-thread his snapped line. “I’m not in a hurry to leave this place.”

  “Yeah it suits you. But… but I’m a bit younger than you and…”

  Dirk stopped fiddling with his line and turned to Jonny. “I think you need to have an honest chat with Eliza. Make sure you two want the same stuff out of life. You dig me?”

  Jonny nodded. “I know. You’re right. It’s just… well after nearly four years you would think it would be more obvious.”

  Dirk shook his head. “You can’t depend on anyone in life, man. Just yourself. You’ll learn that sooner or later,” and then he added sensitively, “hope it’s not the hard way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Another early start for Jonny. It was Friday, the main market day on the island. Many of the hotels arranged coaches to transport holiday makers up there. Jonny and Eliza were in charge of selling the wares made in the commune there.

  Jonny had piled everything into a hand cart ready to push across the arid scrub land to the market, a mile away. Then he took Eliza a cup of lemon water to their bed. He pushed back the curtains and gently rocked her arm to wake her up.

  Their spot at the market was between two gnarly olive trees, shading them from the fierce midday sun. They unfolded the tables and laid out some cloths on them before setting out rows of brightly coloured woven friendship bracelets, trinket boxes studded with shells from the beach and intricately stitched goatskin leather purses. The aroma from the purses was quite strong and Jonny didn’t like handling them. Leaving them in the packing box he went to string up several of the rag rugs made in the commune from the trees.

  Eliza arranged their little side line, Karma Life cassettes, stacked in old shoe boxes. They would usually play one of them on an old portable cassette player and it became a great talking point for any would be souvenir hunters.

  Jonny sought out one of the local fruit sellers and brought back two huge pieces of watermelon. They sat down on two small wooden stools waiting for the tourists to flock in. Juice dripping down their chins as they devoured the cold refreshing flesh.

  It turned out to be a typical market day, nothing startling, other than Greta turning up with two Buddhist monks. They were clothed in orange robes and had shiny shaven heads. All Jonny could think of was Tripitaka from a TV show he used to watch as a child. Waiting for one of the donkeys the Ibizan farmers used to take them away. Eliza wasn’t impressed when he told her.

  Greta introduced the monks to Eliza and Jonny. “They are from a Buddhist place nearby. I’m going to start going to their yoga and meditation classes if you fancy coming along with me, Eliza?”

  “Sure why not. Sounds different.” Eliza glared at Jonny as if to ward him off making some inappropriate remark or other.

  ***

  As promised Eliza went to the yoga class with Greta, returning to the commune full of praise for the teacher and how knowledgeable they thought he was.

  It soon turned into a daily thing. “You have to practice regularly,” she justified to Jonny who had complained it was interfering with their regular excursion to their cove. “The asanas and meditation are very challenging. You don’t get good at them overnight. It comes with lots of practice.”

  Jonny was not only frustrated with them missing their visits to the cove; there was a wider issue. Eliza seemed like she was in a dream most of the time. Wandering off to walk amongst the lemon trees. Going down to the beach to collect shells. None of which she invited Jonny to.

  Then there was Greta. Dirk had warned Jonny about Greta when they had gone on their fishing trip. Now she was grating on Jonny in a big way. Her incessant stories of what she had done in her life were once amusing to Jonny, albeit in a sardonic way. Now they were downright irritating.

  What made it worse was the way Eliza seemed to take it all in, and even defend Greta. Jonny couldn’t believe Eliza was being so naive. The worldly woman he knew seemed to be blinkered to this German.

  Jonny and Eliza had planned on going back to Amsterdam together early spring and he had tried to pin Eliza down to a date. She wasn’t committing though; changing the subject or saying it wasn’t necessary to decide just yet, whenever it was raised.

  He had also tackled her about plans for another tour, recounting to her the conversation he had with Dirk. She denied that she had ruled out another tour, but wouldn’t get into a discussion about it without Dirk and Kurt.

  Alarm bells were starting to ring for Jonny. He would have been happy to stay on the island forever, but it didn’t seem as if that was what she was wanted either.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “I’m going to Tibet.”

  Eliza was laid next to Jonny on the sand at their cove. Unusually she had foregone the yoga class to go with him. It was now becoming apparent why.

  “What?” Jonny opened one eye and squinting against the sunlight he lifted his head to look at her. “What did you say?”

  “I’m going to Tibet. Greta is leaving next week and I’m going with her.”

  “But you can’t.” He pushed himself onto his knees, looking down on her. “We’re going back home. We.”

  “I’m sorry Jonny. I need to do this.”

  She stood up and pulled her dress over her head. Folding the rug up she walked off towards the boat.

  Jonny was knelt, frozen in his nakedness.

  He forced himself to stand up and run after her. Grabbing her by the arm he swung her around.

  “What the hell are you on about?”

  He had never raised his voice to her, never mind grabbing her in this way, but he couldn’t control his emotions. Not this time.

  “Just leave it Jonny. You don’t own me.” She shook her arm from his grip.

  “I know I don’t own you, but I just don’t understand. What’s brought this about? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s not for you to understand.”

  “What do you mean Eliza? Is it something I’ve done. If so, what is it? Tell me.”

  “It’s nothing you’ve done. Far from it. It’s me and the way I am. You’re just going to have to accept it.”

  “Come back and let’s talk about this.”

  He gently tugged on her hand, leading her back to the sand. They both knelt down and through his watery gaze, holding both of her hands. He let out a long breath to steady his voice.

  “I love you Eliza.”

  “I know Jonny, and I’m sorry to do this to you. This is a journey I need to go on. I may come back, but I can’t say for sure. If I do I may not be the same person. This is about something above and beyond you and me.”

  Jonny was broken. On this paradise of an island. Broken.

  ***

  The day arrived
.

  He had hardly slept and each time he closed his eyes all he could see was the image of Eliza on his first encounter with her at the Marquee.

  His angel.

  They had continued to sleep together but it felt like Eliza had left their bed the week before.

  She couldn’t be reasoned with and God knows Jonny tried. The more he tried the more determined she became. Not agreeing to him going with her; joining her later; waiting for her. She wouldn’t agree to anything.

  He was bleary eyed and she sat cross legged on the bed, looking at him.

  “Please forgive me Jonny. I hope you will one day understand.”

  She reached to the back of her neck and undid the clasp on her necklace. Placing it into his palm and curling his fingers around it.

  The lump at the back of his throat was suffocating him and wouldn’t allow him to say anything back to her. He was mute.

  The heavy feeling in the middle of his chest grew unbearable and pinned him to the bed. He was paralysed.

  Eliza kissed him on the lips and turned and left the shack.

  Through his bleary eyes he saw her float away.

  Unable to blink, his eyes filled completely with tears. He was blind.

  He laid motionless in his mute, paralysed and blind nightmare until the sobbing started and the heaviness in his chest became pain and the tears flowed. He crawled under the sheet that still smelled of her and hugged his knees into his shaking body.

  ***

  Jonny couldn’t come to terms with Eliza leaving. She was never his to own, he knew that, but she was the love of his life and he felt lost and half the man he was when she was around.

  He chastised himself every day. Convinced there was something he could have done to make her stay. Make her love him.

  The hours without her turned into days. The days into weeks. She was still gone and he couldn’t enjoy anything in life without her. Every morning he woke up and the first thing he thought about was her. Every night he went to bed and missed her. Her warmth and softness. The ache in his heart wasn’t fading. Unlike him.

  Dirk tried to help him out of his depression but nothing he did worked. Jonny couldn’t let his feelings bring Dirk down too so he decided to leave Ibiza. Hoping that would allow one of them to enjoy life on the beautiful island.

  His Dutch friend offered to pass any messages from Eliza back to him in the UK.

  Jonny wasn’t going home, well not straight away anyway. He didn’t need to tell Dirk that though. No need to worry him.

  He left Ibiza by boat, sailing to mainland Spain and then hitchhiking his way up the coast. For a guitar toting traveller it was an easy journey. Lonesome drivers wanting to hear stories of musically motivated lives were happy to give him a lift.

  He stopped over in various seaside ports and resorts. The more tourist ridden ones too frivolous for him. He still needed morbid solitude and sought solace in alcohol.

  By the time he reached France he was broke and a drunk.

  ***

  “Voila. Nous sommes arrivés.”

  The French truck driver had stopped at a service station on the outskirts of Toulouse. Jonny slid down from the passenger seat. His feet heavily finding the tarmac.

  Entering the service station, he knew he wouldn’t just come out with cigarettes, even though he had repeated to himself for the last two hours in the truck not to buy any alcohol today.

  The bottle of cognac was finished by the time he staggered to the edge of the town. He curled up on a bench unable to carry on walking.

  “Monsieur! Monsieur!” he was being shaken awake by a young girl, with a nose ring and bright red hair. Through his blurred vision he imagined it was Eliza.

  “Eliza? My angel, is it really you?”

  “Monsieur. You cannot stay here. The gendarme will arrest you. Please.”

  Jonny sat up and dropped his head into his hands. The nightmare was not over and this girl was not Eliza. When will it ever end?

  “Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”

  He shook his head, looking up from his misery and saw she had a badge hung around her neck on a lanyard.

  “Henri can take you to a hostel, if you want. You can stay there tonight and they can help you tomorrow.”

  Looking beyond the French girl he noticed her male companion hovering in the back ground, also donning a badge.

  Without protest Jonny let her companion lead him to the hostel. How did it come to this? Being shepherded, like the vagrant he was, to a homeless shelter in a foreign country. He could cry but he was all cried out.

  Surprisingly the shelter was full of young people like him. Men, women and couples. No children and few of the older men he usually associated with vagrancy.

  They left him sat at a table with a Scandinavian couple who had been backpacking around Europe. A mugging had left them without their passports and wallets. They had nothing, but each other. Sheltering overnight until they could get help from the Swedish consulate. Jonny was jealous of their coupleness and found it hard to feel sorry for them. He was still wallowing in his own grief.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Urghh, Greta!

  The stories became boring.

  The constant complaining was embarrassing.

  The voice was definitely grating.

  The mannerisms had always been annoying.

  Eliza couldn’t even resurrect the feeling of freedom and enlightenment she had been so sure about. She was now worried she was running away. Escaping from something, someone, somewhere. As the days went on she admitted to herself she was doing just that and crystallised what it was she was running away from.

  Love. Yes.

  Jonny. Yes.

  Happiness. Yes.

  Staring out of the train window again she tried to blank out Greta who was talking at a British backpacking couple. Regaling memories of the daring she had shown on her many expeditions to places she had no right to be. A single German girl, alone. Eliza had heard one version or another of the same story too many times now. She could almost mimic what the listeners would say at each over dramatised point Eliza made. “Oh you are so brave!” “You did it all on your own?” “Wow I would never dare do anything like that.” Greta of course revelled in it all.

  The scenery had changed slightly. More wild, less civilised.

  Eliza summoned up the fading memory of Jonny on the beach. Trying not to let the reflection of her own sad expression in the train window take over the beautiful image of her love.

  Even on the first day leaving Spain she had doubts, but she put them down to nerves; anxiety about the adventure she was undertaking with a woman she hardly knew. This discipline had lasted up to Istanbul, but she had come to realise the last thing she wanted was to be a nun in a culture that wasn’t designed for women like her.

  Here she was again, punishing herself for having a good life with a good man, all because her parents had died.

  “Eliza. Eliza!” Greta poked her; forcing Eliza back into her world. “So what dharma name do you think you will be given?” Before even giving Eliza chance to offer any response Greta started spouting several unlikely choices for herself.

  It is just about her, always about her. Eliza felt stupid. Inwardly slapping herself for not realising it sooner and wondering what she could do to make amends with Jonny. Although fearing she had truly gone and done it properly this time.

  Impulsively, at the next train stop, Eliza escaped. Bidding farewell to Greta. “I’ve made a mistake,” was the only explanation she gave, rendering Greta, for once, speech-less.

  She sat on a wooden bench on the platform, watching with relief as the train pulled slowly away. Shuddering with the realisation of her narrow escape.

  Most of the passengers were hurrying away with purpose, some stragglers seemingly double-checking their pick up arrangements.

  Pretty soon, she reckoned, she would be left on her own in the dark with no plan. Looking around for a ticket office, rail workers or
an information board, she realised this wasn’t a main station. She decided to ask someone but couldn’t make herself understood. Her language skills were pretty good, she could speak five languages, but none of them, not even the universally spoken English seemed to be of help here. Catching a train in the direction she came from was her only hope.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It was a week since Kurt had posted the letter to the commune and he expected Dirk to ring him earlier.

  “Jeez man. I thought you lot were gonna keep in touch?”

  “Yeah well a lot’s gone down here lately.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Anyway what’s up?”

  “Well do you remember the gig we did in Enschede the year before last?”

  “Yeah sort of. The one at Christmas?”

  “Yeah that’s the one. Well, there was a guy there. A film director. He came up after the show to chat to us. Do you remember?”

  “No not really.”

  “Never mind. Anyway, he got in touch shortly after and asked me to send him some tracks. I thought it was just a personal request, you know, because he liked our shit. But it turns out he wanted to use the songs in a film he was doing. He thought we were still contracted to AP Records, who have been giving him the run around a bit. But finally he got in touch and he’s gonna pay us to use them. But here’s the thing. He’s not just any old film director. He’s done tonnes of stuff and he’s got a blockbuster about to be released and wants to use Samsara, Jonny’s song, on the opening credits and the trailer. It’ll be all over the press, radio, the lot. AP Records have put two and two together and want to do a reprint of No Shame and they’re offering real handsome terms. All the new stuff I had shelved we need to get laid down. Like PDQ. And then there’s a video needed for Samsara.”

  “Woah. Hang on a minute mate. It’s a lot to take in.”

  Kurt rubbed his palm over his chin in frustration. “Why don’t you put Eliza on and I’ll explain it to her.”

  “Yeah well that’s easier said than done.”

  “Why what’s going on over there.” He could hear Dirk sucking in his breath through his teeth.