by Romi Hart
“I mean, I remember what you told me about your mother…but why did you pick guitars? I figured you more for a keyboard kind of guy.”
“Hmmm,” I think it was a speech my mom gave me one day, believe it or not. I mean I always grew up visualizing great rock stars and all the glory they had. Big surprise right, that’s why I decided to play football. Vanity’s my weakness.”
“Go on.”
"Well, one day mom and I were talking. I had to be about ten years old. I loved playing ball, I loved the thrill of school sports. But then one day, almost like she sensed a problem developing in me, mom said, "A body just gets you noticed. Your talent is what changes the world."
“Really? Change the world, huh?”
“Well, what can I say. Mom put ideas into my head!” I laugh. “I told her, mom, I can’t do any of that. All I can do is play ball. She said, nonsense. You have a musical voice. A musical ear. Cultivate that talent.”
“Wow, a talented person and easy on the eyes,” Amanda says with a smirk.
“Well, I always believed that music was like a language, you know. It’s like a secret language all humans have where we convey things we feel and think but can’t express out loud.”
“Hmmm…” Amanda says sarcastically, almost mocking me. I laugh it off, thinking she’s just playing me. “What? Don’t tell me you distrust musicians. Come on now, sports heroes I can see how they’re all vain egotistical jerks. But musicians got heart and soul, you know.”
“I doubt it,” Amanda says with a teasing smile. “You can’t trust those musicians.”
“Doesn’t your father play? And your brother?”
“Yes.”
"Well, they seem very nice. And the two most protective guys in the world, I can tell right away they love you."
“We’ve been through a lot together,” she says with a nod. “We stick together as a family.”
“Guess I’ve never really had that. After my mom died, I really didn’t connect with my cousins or nephews. Never knew my father. She was my hero. Of course, I don’t say that in the papers. Then suddenly everyone knows Nate is just a momma’s boy. Suddenly I lose millions!”
“I like it when you’re honest,” she says, looking me in the eyes. “It’s a new side of you. Keep it up.”
“Well as long as we’re honest with each other…”
She gives me a look.
“Whoah what was that face?” I say, poking her with my free hand.
“Go ahead. Finish. As long as we’re honest. Say what you’re thinking!”
“I was just going to say I think you look gorgeous. Just the way you are, no special dress, no big display. Just you.”
“That’s not what you were thinking.”
“Honest to God. I know…it seems like such a classy thought for a guy like me, right? But believe it or not, I only think about sex between the peak hours of nine and midnight, not so much in the daytime.”
“Liar,” she says with a grin.
“Okay, maybe peak hours three to midnight!”
I suggested a karaoke bar, only so I could hear my crush Amanda’s lovely voice. She has objected repeatedly, stating that she’s too embarrassed to sing in front of people. I told her, I don’t care about perfection. I don’t care about being pro. I just want to hear her sing. Like I said, music is the purest language. Whatever Amanda is, will be reflected in song. So after a great deal of smiling, begging pressure, she agreed to accompany me to a karaoke bar—at least after we made a quick trip to the music store. Women and bathrooms, I guess!
Now that we’re here at Dave’s Karaoke Club, I am beside myself with anticipation. I suggested Amanda sing an easy classic like Love Me Do by the Beatles. But to my pleasant surprise, Amanda insisted on singing “Will You Love Me Tomorrow”, an odd choice…especially for karaoke.
I watch as Amanda goes on stage, waving at the audience, who cheer her on. I have the biggest smile in the room, of course. There’s just something so sexy about a woman who sings…even if she knows she’s going to make a fool of herself.
But I applaud the loudest when she looks to me for confidence.
Then, she grabs a guitar which has been waiting by the stage. Why is she…?
The lights fade. The audience cheers. No music in the background.
And Amanda…she takes the guitar into her hands like a lost child. She strums the chords perfectly, oh my God, like a pro! The audience erupts into applause as they realize that Amanda isn’t going to karaoke after all…she’s going to perform.
Amanda blows my mind as she sets the guitar on fire—wailing away like Janis Joplin, playing like Joni Mitchell. And her confidence, her presence on stage is second to none—beyond Aretha, Whitney, and Cher!
She croons out the first few lyrics, calm, collected and feeling the moment. The audience explodes in appreciation.
“Tonight you're mine, completely
You give your love so sweetly
Tonight the light of love is in your eyes
But will you love me tomorrow”
The audience continues to cheer like an American Idol audition. As the song picks up, and she plays each chord perfectly, she picks up the tempo and raises her voice—perfect pitch, perfect volume and with more soul than I’ve ever heard from any woman, or any other human being on earth!
Her audience basks in her glory—she’s a hero, a rock star, and an unpretentious woman who just so happens to steal the spotlight. She’s mega-talented but as shy as the girl next door. All those years of repairing guitars and conversing with musicians surely rubbed off on her. She’s retained all of their stories, all of their skills…
Like she said, a language, a secret language that only musicians speak. Amanda’s a musical prodigy! Suddenly, I’m wondering who in the hell is the real superstar here?
I’m just a ball tosser. She’s the one who should be on magazine covers.
All I can do is applaud along with the audience, feeling extra proud of my friend—honored to know her in a way that few people ever have. And still wondering, how I can possibly find a place in her closed heart.
Maybe for the first time in my life, I know where I want to be. I want to be in Amanda’s mind. I want her to think of me the way I think of her.
Not obsession. Not sex…we’ve been there and done that. But the magnetic attraction. The soulful connection. Whatever I feel for her…it’s so intense it’s making me tear up and think all kinds of crazy things. I have to pinch myself to see if any of this is real. Does she realize how beautiful she is? Does she know how powerless I am in her presence?
Or maybe I just see her the same way she once saw me. Someone on top of the world. Someone I could only dream of meeting. A legend.
After her number, I welcome Amanda back off the stage and gently battle the hands of her other admirers—just enough so I can take her into a hug. I raise her hand to the people, saying what we all know. Tonight, this club belonged to Amanda Shannon—my favorite rock star.
We waited until the crowd dispersed before we relaxed and enjoyed the evening. We ate chicken wings and smiled at each other—and no, I didn’t really talk about the elephant in the room. Like the fact that Amanda Shannon is an American Idol in the making! I just grinned at her and she blushed back at me. She knew what I was thinking.
Now we’re sitting here together, having enjoyed our meal, and just holding hands…basking in the moment. The end of one glorious day, and a dream come true for me, since this was everything I hoped the date would be and more.
“I didn’t want to tell you,” she says coyly. “I thought it would change your opinion of me.”
“How would it change? My respect and admiration for you would only grow.”
“Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Hey,” I say with a pointed finger. “Don’t even be afraid to be brilliant. Don’t be shy. Show the world who you are. Be proud of who you are. Only thing is…don’t take it too far like I do.”
We bot
h enjoy a laugh.
“I don’t want a man to love me for my music,” Amanda says with uncertainty. “It’s like…I become a novelty then. Sometimes I would rather people not know who I am. So I can slip between the cracks and get away.”
“Well, I guess we have one thing in common, Miss Shannon. I really have never met a woman who loves me for the person I am inside. Damned if I even know who that person is, except for a boy who loves the guitar.”
“I know...but what would you tell me,” she continues, “if I said I don’t want it. Any of it. Show business…all that. I just want to be me.”
“Why deprive the world of your talent?”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about Nate. It’s like if you can do anything, you have to make money off it. You have to sell out. I don’t know…I’ve never really thought about going out on my own. My heart has always been with my family’s business. That’s where my world is. Where is your world, Nate?”
I almost speak up, but I gather from the look on her face, this is a test. Do I answer and risk turning her off? Making her doubt me again? Or do I play by her rules of total honesty?
“Honestly? I don’t know where I belong. The fictional world, the sports trophies, the groupies, the Super Bowl rings…it’s not real. Who knows how long till it’s over. And who will I be when I retire?”
“Maybe that’s the only person who ever really existed,” Amanda says calmly.
Before I can speak, muttering another dumb sentence, Amanda gets up from the table and waves me over. “Come on. I have something to show you.”
“A-?”
“Not that. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Yes ma’am,” I say with a hearty laugh.
I leave some cash covering the dinner and a generous tip before scurrying after her, eager to see what this wise woman has for me. A gift? Or maybe an omen. I never know what to expect from this crazy rock star!
I wait nervously as Amanda walks me to the car.
“No peeking! Close your eyes.”
“What? Is it my birthday?”
“Just do it.”
Don’t act surprised if it’s lingerie. Act natural!
Can’t let this woman see me sweat. Whenever I’m with her, she’s the big star! Especially after that last scene-stealing move. I oblige and close my eyes. I hear clanking noises as she picks something up from the car.
“Okay, open your eyes.”
I do a double take on a brightly colored masterpiece—Amanda’s holding a red guitar and presenting it to me, almost suggesting that…no way!
“What is this?” I say, feasting my eyes on the majesty of the work.
“It’s for you, Nate,” she says softly. “I made it for you. As a sort of…you know, making up gift. For all the weirdness between us. I misjudged you.”
"No way. You didn't…" I shake my head in wide-eyed disbelief. "For me? Seriously?"
“Of course,” she laughs.
“No way…did you just have an extra one in the back of the store or something? Or did your dad order it?”
“Read the inscription,” she says proudly.
I inspect the piece thoroughly, taking in the smooth contours—a masterwork and from Amanda’s own hands. I stare in amazement when I see the inscription of my name: Nate Jiggur. Not just a guitar she gave to me, but a piece of musical art she invented for me.
Words escape me. I can’t believe what I’m seeing…or that such a brilliant person like Amanda feels something for me.
“My God…Amanda…I’ve never received anything like it!”
“I had planned to give it to you ever since I found out you loaned my father the money. Once I knew what you did, I figured I owed you one. But now…I’m just giving it to you, because I like you. Maybe I don’t need a reason. Or a definition, you know, about what our relationship is. Maybe sometimes a girl just likes to throw, instead of catch…to put it in football terms. No explanation needed.”
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…” I say, hypnotically gazing at the brand new toy. But then my heart sank when I looked beyond it, right at Amanda’s smiling face. Every good thing in life starts with the noble actions of another person. As much as seeing the guitar almost brings me to tears…it’s just a thing. But she’s the person making my heart glow. She’s the one who understands me like no one else. And maybe that’s why I can’t get enough of her.
“Thank you so much. How can I ever…Amanda, I can never repay you for this.”
“Well, the night’s still young…” she says slyly. “And I still have you for a whole day and night.”
Amanda
I giggle madly as Nate carries me on his shoulder, having just shoved the hotel room door open.
“Oh God, I drank so much I can barely walk!” I laugh out loud. Let me down before I really embarrass myself.”
He obliges and sets me gently down on the floor, and down I go, crashing to the couch. “Oh Nate…I never knew you could sing like that…so utterly bad.”
We both take turns guffawing. Nate is definitely a talented man on the field but when it comes to singing—he’s the first one to admit he sucks. And he gloriously embarrassed himself in front of me, singing at a karaoke club until the crowd booed him off the stage!
“I had to prove to you that you were the superior talent! Now there’s no question.”
"Yeah, but I can't throw like you can. And I'm not the MVP guy, Mister Super Bowl ring."
"Yeah, but I'd trade my ring for a night in heaven."
“You’re so bad!” I say, throwing the couch pillow at him before breaking down and laughing. “Come here,” I say with an inviting smile.
"Uh uh, I know a feral cougar when I see one," he says before we both burst into laughter.
"I say, young man, I believe you're treating me to this date. So I want you to come here and sit your ass down and let me exploit you."
“No way,” he says strongly, but still simpering. “I meant what I said. I’m not going to ruin everything we have with some tail again.”
“Oh don’t be such a pussy!” I laugh.
“I’m serious! The last thing I need is for someone I care about thinking I took advantage of her when we were both drinking our asses off.”
“Well if we were both drinking, what’s the big deal?”
“I’m just saying sometimes women regret what they do when they’re full of wine. But I don’t want any regrets.”
“And neither do I,” I say, a little annoyed at his show of chivalry. I guess I should be honored that he thinks so much of me that he wouldn’t try to score just because it’s an easy touchdown. But all I can think of about is this stubborn idea that he’s backing away. He’s finding a goddamn reason to stay back 50 yards away from the predator. Give me a break, Nate! I’m not every other woman, am I?
“The truth is…” I say, meeting his eyes and giving him a good scowl. “I could only say this when I’m drunk. And if you wait until I’m sober, I’m going to fucking deny everything tomorrow morning.”
“Go ahead,” he laughs. “I have a good memory.”
“The truth is I’m terrified,” I say, quickly losing my goofy smile and going straight. “This first time I met you, the first time you wanted to buy my father’s company. The first time we had sex. Even when I told you to get away from me…all I could think of was how I’m just going to screw this friendship up. Like I always do. Because you’re just too good to be true, Nate. I’m still waiting for the real asshole to come forth. You’re too good…you’re too…perfect. I don’t believe it.”
He looks at me and closes his eyes in amusement. “Because it’s me? Or because you stopped believing in IT?”
“I don’t know…just prove to me that I’m right. Take advantage of me and fuck me while I’m full of liquor. Show me your true colors, asshole.”
“Goodnight, Amanda,” he says patting my head and ignoring my scowl. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow w
ill be too late!” I scream back at him in spite.
“Tomorrow will be too late…” he sings. So badly. “It’s now or never my love can’t wait.”
“Fuck you, asshole. I knew you were an asshole…”
Oh, Jesus, I am so tired…maybe I ought to just rest my head for a few minutes.
“Wake up, you foolish man,” I say kissing Nate on the navel, waking him up gently.
He opens his eyes and smiles, not quite awake but loving the feeling of a new day.
“Do my eyes deceive me or is that superstar Amanda Shannon in bed with me?”
“You’re too nice of a guy. Why didn’t you take me last night?” I say, kissing his chest with my lips and staring hungrily into his eyes.
“Because you fell asleep on the damned couch. If I had gone for it I’d have a terrible case of blue balls.”
“Yeah right. You’re just a nice guy pussy, Nate. I know.”
“No, I’m a nice guy who eats pussy is the correct way to say it.”
We both cackle and then kiss each other good morning.
“Why are you awake so early anyway after all that partying?” he says, running his hands through my hair, as I peck his neck and show him the desire I still feel, even ten hours removed from the now or never moment.
“Took an Alka Seltzer. Ate breakfast. Slept in.”
“What time is it?” he says in confusion.”
“It’s two PM, you bum!”
“Ohhhh…” he says in surprise. “That explains a lot. Did you really mean what you said last night?”
“What do you think?” I say, kissing him on the lips. “Do I seem like a woman who’s satisfied? Do I feel like a woman who’s had enough?”
He kisses me back and pushes me down to the bed, laying his body on top of mine. He runs his tender lips all over my neck and shoulders, sampling my taste, yearning for more. He lifts my white t-shirt over my head and embraces my warm center, kissing my breasts tenderly. He unhooks my black bra from behind and pulls it off, exposing my hard nipples.