Summer of Irreverence: The Rock Star (The New York Artists Series)

by Cathrine Goldstein

  He shook his head like he was fighting his way through a lingering fog. “I’m sorry. I just—you were beautiful before, but now you’re just…gorgeous.”

  Malcolm stared at Summer in a way that unnerved her. The tiniest smirk turned up the corner of her lips, but she fought it away. She was too angry for insincere compliments. Malcolm stood straight, squaring his shoulders. Summer couldn’t help but notice how tall he was, especially now she was out of those ridiculous boots.

  Summer matched his posture, cinching her belt tighter. “If you’re here to apologize—”

  “I’m not.”

  “Excuse me?” Again, Summer began to get riled.

  “I’m not here to apologize. But I’m willing to wait for your apology.”

  “What?” Summer felt herself flush. Was he insane?

  “Oh boy…” Jeanette turned away. “Well, uh, if anyone needs me, I’ll be in the bedroom.”

  “Why would I apologize to you?” Summer took a step forward, her chest heaving from anger.

  “Because you were wrong.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “I was wrong?” Summer scoffed and turned away. “The only time I was wrong was in thinking there might be some decency in you.”

  Malcolm looked down at the ground and then back up to her. Summer stared into his eyes that were filled with pain. She felt herself soften.

  “Yes…” Malcolm stuffed his hands into his pockets. “That part you were right about.” His voice was soft and filled with agony. “There is no decency in me.”

  Summer chewed her lip. She was angry, but still, she ached for him. She hated to see any creature—person or animal—suffering.

  “But you were wrong in your assumption.” His eyes never veered from hers.

  “How?” Summer crossed her arms in front of her chest, speaking through her clenched jaw.

  “The leftovers…?”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  Summer began to walk off, but Malcolm lurched forward and grabbed her by the arm. She spun around, fuming, her face inches from his. She was angry, but heaven help her…

  “If you would just wait a second…” His breath was warm on her face.

  Summer fought to control her breathing. She looked at her arm, and Malcolm let go. She adjusted her robe.

  “As I was saying.” He cleared his throat. “The ‘leftovers’ Jimmy was looking for were from dinner.”

  Summer laughed. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

  “No, actually. Not in the least. But you—”

  “You expect me to believe that the lead singer from the hottest band in the world shares the leftovers from his vegetarian dinner with his bass player? You must think I’m a moron.”

  “No. But I think you’re completely prejudiced.”

  “What?” Summer faced Malcolm. She was seething with anger. “Did you just tell me I’m prejudiced?”

  “Well, what would you call it?”

  “Not being naïve?”

  “But you are being naïve and prejudiced. You made a snap decision about me and someone else based on gossip you’ve heard because of my occupation. How would you like it if I assumed you were stupid because you’re a model?”

  “There are lots of models who are very smart.” Summer spoke through clenched teeth.

  “Yes. And there are musicians who don’t treat women like rental cars.”

  “But you go through women—”

  “Yes, maybe I do. But tell me something, Summer, why were you there tonight, huh? You told me you knew there was nothing permanent here.”

  He held up his hands, framing his torso. His abdominal muscles flexed as he spoke.

  Malcolm continued in a softer voice. “You knew it was one night only. So why were you there? You must have wanted something just as much as I did. So why am I the only one to blame? Why weren’t you using me just as much as I was using you?”

  Summer stepped back, confused.

  “And as far as Jimmy goes. Before you go running off to the gossip papers—he’s a good guy. He’s been married for twenty years. Twenty years on the road, and he’s never cheated on his wife. Not once.”

  “Then why the—”

  “Leftovers?” Malcolm smiled. “He’s got high blood pressure. His wife put him on a vegetarian diet. He knew I’d ordered vegetarian and wanted to see if I had anything left. Room service screwed up his order. He’s guilty of bad timing. Nothing else.”

  Summer felt herself deflate. “But why was he staring at me? At my breasts?”

  “He’s been married for twenty years.” Malcolm grinned. “And in case you didn’t know, you’re a knockout.”

  Summer scoffed. “Hardly.”

  “So…” Malcolm clapped his hands together.

  “What?” Summer felt like her entire world was upside down, and surprisingly, she didn’t dislike the feeling.

  “I’m ready for your apology.”

  “You have to be kidding.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “Nope.”

  Summer stepped back. “I—uh…” She tripped on her words. “Well then…”

  Malcolm smirked at her, and Summer returned his smile with a glare.

  She balled her robe in her fists, clenching and unclenching her hands. “I’m not sure…exactly…I mean, it’s not every day…”

  Malcolm swung his arms back and forth, obviously enjoying Summer’s dilemma. “I’ll tell you what.” He stopped moving and spoke sincerely. “Since I can tell an apology will be tough for you, I’ll let you off the hook. Have brunch with me tomorrow, and we’ll call it even.”

  “Malcolm I—”

  “You’d love to? Excellent.”

  “No. I mean, yes. Or, I don’t know…” Summer could not remember a time she was so flustered. And looking at his strong, sexy body wasn’t helping. “I couldn’t…”

  “Are you busy tomorrow at eleven?”

  “No. But—”

  “Eleven it is then.”

  Summer felt herself nodding without meaning to.

  “Excellent.” Malcolm turned toward the door and then back again. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at Jeanette’s.”

  Summer nodded again.

  “And by the way…” Malcolm smiled. “You really are more beautiful when you look like this.” He started toward the door and turned back. “And you’re even more beautiful when you’re not yelling at me.”

  Malcolm clapped his hands again and didn’t even try to hide the smirk on his face. He made his way out the door.

  Summer stared after him as Jeanette waltzed into the living room.

  “Summer, what just happened?”

  “I think I’m going on a date with Malcolm Angel.”

  “Holy crap.”

  “Yup.”

  Both women stood perfectly still, staring at the closed door.

  Chapter Seven

  Summer checked the time. Ten forty-five.

  She was wearing a yellow bra and her favorite faded jeans as she tore through Jeanette’s enormous walk-in closet for the fourth time. She was adrift in a sea of high heeled shoes, white leather couches, and names on designer labels…some she couldn’t even pronounce.

  “I don’t know why I’m doing this.” Summer tossed the tag of a designer dress she had momentarily contemplated. It swung back and scratched her on the shoulder. She pouted, rubbing away the pain.

  “Because you want to look sexy for your date with the hottest rock star in the world?”

  “Oh, don’t remind me.” Summer slumped back against the opened door of Jeanette’s closet. “And it’s not a date.” Through her sleepless night, Summer had rethought her position on brunch.

  “Of course not. You’re just dressing up and going to brunch. That never means a date.” Jeanette giggled as she held up a turquoise gauze blouse, deciding how it would look on Summer.

  “What I mean iiiissss…” Summer dragged each word out, as if lengthening her speech would somehow buy her more time. She tossed Jeanette’s
choice aside. “If he even bothers to show up…then this is some weird little game he’s playing. He wants to make me suffer. To humiliate me or something. Make me apologize for being prejudiced against his profession.”

  “Summer.” Jeanette abandoned her clothing racks and moved closer to Summer. She placed a hand on Summer’s arm. “Do you really think Malcolm Angel is going to waste his time playing some childish game?”

  “I don’t know what to think…or expect. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m way out of my league here.”

  Jeanette squeezed Summer’s hand. “You are certainly not out of your league. But you need to remember why you began this. It wasn’t to get a boyfriend, Sum. You have to understand, you are a gorgeous woman who surprised Malcolm Angel. And I don’t think that happens very often—if ever. So, he wants to see more. But remember, ultimately, he just wants to bed you. Which, as of last night, was all you wanted, too.” Jeanette stared hard into Summer’s eyes. “Is that true, Summer? Is that all you want?”

  “Of course.” Although Summer didn’t believe in love, somehow, by the light of day, her plan to be had by Malcolm Angel seemed pretty cheesy.

  “Okay.” Jeanette stepped back, seeming satisfied with Summer’s answer. “Then wear this.” She handed Summer a white and yellow peasant blouse.

  “Really?” Summer raised her eyebrows. “It’s not very New York.”

  “That’s why he’ll love it.” Jeanette nodded. “Besides, isn’t it your lucky shirt?”

  “Yes…”

  “So maybe you’ll get lucky in it then.”

  Jeanette smiled as Summer rolled her eyes, contemplating the blouse. Summer pulled the shirt over her head.

  “Thanks, Jean.”

  “For what?” Jeanette was busy scrutinizing and fluffing Summer’s hair. Summer batted her away.

  “For all of it. And for leaving the hotel last night. You could have stayed. I would have been fine.”

  “I know.” Jeanette shrugged. “But I was happy to have the company, too.”

  “He works a lot, huh?” Summer glanced at Jeanette out of the corner of her eye.

  Summer had no opinion of Elijah, except he seemed to make Jeanette happy. He did keep very odd work hours, but what did Summer know about being the business manager of the hottest rock band in the world…? Maybe when he worked those late hours he was negotiating contracts with other parts of the world…places where our night was their day. The only other observation Summer had about Elijah was that he wasn’t as attractive as the men Jeanette usually dated. He was early-sixties with a potbelly and a significantly receding hairline that he tried to comb-over. But surely, that would make him appreciate Jeanette, and her stunning beauty, all the more.

  “Elijah? He works a lot.”

  “I guess.” Jeanette shrugged away Summer’s comment.

  Okay, so obviously Jeanette didn’t want to talk about this.

  “Well, anyway, Jeanette. Thanks for always being there for me. Always.”

  Just then, Jeanette’s doorman buzzed. Jeanette ran to the door, her excitement bubbling out of her.

  “Yes?” Jeanette spoke into her intercom, still smiling at Summer. She motioned for Summer to put on some lip gloss.

  Summer smeared on the lightest layer as Jeanette listened to her doorman’s answer.

  “Thank you.” Jeanette turned to Summer. “It seems I was right. Security is waiting downstairs, and Malcolm Angel is heading up here. Thank heavens my Sunday doorman has no idea who Malcolm is.” Jeanette giggled. “He’s picking you up at the door, Summer. If that doesn’t say date, I don’t know what does.”

  Summer stared in disbelief as they both waited for Jeanette’s doorbell to buzz.

  ****

  Malcolm Angel had no idea what the hell he was doing. Why the hell had he made security wait downstairs? What if some deranged fan found him in the elevator? And why did he insist on meeting Summer at her door?

  When he decided he wanted to take Summer to brunch, and she said yes, sort of…then one thing led to another until…well…one of his tour buses was parked outside her apartment building. Thankfully, years ago he had taken his name and likeness off his buses, so no one would know it was him. Now, the representation of him was nothing more than a big, shiny, empty, black bus.

  It had started innocently enough. She made assumptions about him that…irked him for some reason, and he didn’t know why. He knew what people said about him. He knew they thought he was scum, because he slept with a fair amount of women…okay, a lot of women…but it went with the territory. And although he didn’t give a damn about what people thought of him, he was sure each and every woman he slept with understood they were there for one night only. But Summer…Summer was so self-righteous about it all, huffing and puffing while she fumed—totally off base—about being considered a “leftover.” Malcolm chuckled, remembering Summer’s cheeks turning flaming red, and the look of indignation on her face. All in all, it was pretty amusing. And annoying. And endearing…

  But that wasn’t the reason he was here. He snapped his fingers and clapped his fist against the flattened palm of his other hand. He wasn’t here to set her straight. He was here because of the way she looked in that damned white robe. He smiled.

  When the doors of the elevator slid shut, Malcolm caught his own reflection in the shiny metal and immediately looked down. He let his hands go limp, dangling by his sides. He had no interest in seeing himself. If he had his way, mirrors would be outlawed. He had to live with himself on the inside—why would he want to have to deal with the outside as well?

  Malcolm shook his head, pushing his unsettling thoughts aside. What was it about this strange woman that was the catalyst of his uneasiness? Since he met her, only hours earlier, he had ridden a roller coaster of emotions, and he was ready to jump off the ride. Emotions were something Malcolm did not kowtow to.

  Malcolm breathed deeply, squashing the ill-fitting sensation running up and down his veins. None of it mattered anyway—none of her appreciable qualities could mean anything—he didn’t partake in relationships and after today, the only time he would ever run the risk of seeing her was when she was with Jeanette and Elijah. And that would only be a problem for the next few months, because Summer had assured him she was only here until Labor Day. And considering the plausibility of her modeling career, she would probably be gone even before then.

  Malcolm frowned, exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. Although her absence was the answer to his predicament, he wasn’t happy Summer was only temporary. He drew a sharp breath.

  The elevator dinged, signifying his stop. As the floor leveled, Malcolm looked up and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored wall. Crap. He stared at the bags under his eyes and the lines on his face. Thirty-nine years old…damn. This is what hard living looks like. He shook his head and slunk off the elevator.

  As he approached Jeanette’s door, Malcolm could feel life throbbing inside. It was a sensation he never experienced walking up to his own apartment, not even with Winston waiting inside. The feeling he got as he approached Jeanette’s door was enough to give Malcolm back his rock star swagger and to plaster a grin on his face. He stood outside Jeanette’s door and leaned forward, straining to hear inside. Nothing. She was good. If she was nervous or giddy she wasn’t going to let him know. He chuckled, imagining her expression when he took her outside and there was his tour bus…knowing her response would have to be either fight or flight but hell, he was ready for either. Deciding against the doorbell, Malcolm knocked on the door, liking the feeling of nearly touching Summer.

  The door swung open and Malcolm felt a million little pin pricks stab him just so—like that time in Chinatown when he had endured a poorly executed acupuncture treatment. It wasn’t particularly painful, but it wasn’t entirely pleasurable, either. It was bearable. This was exactly what it felt like to stare at Summer in that light yellow and white top—so soft and full. For just a moment of time, Malcolm imagine
d falling against her breasts and weeping like he had never done. His eyes rose to hers, knowing the way he looked at her now may very well scare her off…forever. His chest heaved with his racing breath, and he was suddenly afraid she would be the arrow that would find the chink in his armor. But he couldn’t let that happen. He breathed in deeply and stood up straighter and taller. He couldn’t let any of it happen.

  ****

  Summer slumped forward. For that split second when the door first opened, he looked genuinely happy to see her—but then, something changed. His face clouded over. Maybe seeing her in the light of day was a disappointment. She looked down at her outfit. Maybe Jeanette was wrong. Maybe her outfit was all wrong. She looked up and chewed her lip, staring at Malcolm. Maybe she was all wrong.

  Summer hung back, confused. She wrapped one foot around the other leg, attacking her lip until it hurt. “Ow.” She lifted her hand to her lip, assessing the damage.

  “Wait.” Malcolm was suddenly there, with a napkin he had grabbed off Jeanette’s breakfast island. It was cloth, but he didn’t seem to care if her blood stained it.

  He placed the napkin to her lip and held it for her. He was so close now… Summer inhaled. He smelled like a medley of musk and sweat…he smelled, like darkness. She closed her eyes as he applied pressure, but she was growing lightheaded. She needed to distance herself.

  “Thanks.” Summer stepped back and looked at Malcolm through heavy lashes, doing her best to deny the tingling sensation running up and down her body. The tingling came from the euphoria she was feeling, but why was she feeling euphoric when he held a napkin to her lip?

  “Okay?” he asked.

  Summer stared at his face, so worn and tired. He looked angry but hopelessly sad—that singularly unique look that until now, she had only ever seen on circus animals. Could the life of a celebrity be this trying? She nodded. “Yes, fine.”

  “Then let’s get going.”

  And just like that the vulnerability faded, and he smiled his charming rock star smile. But it was there. And she had seen it. There was…something…hidden deep inside Malcolm Angel.

  Summer slipped on her sandals and grabbed her bag, following him out the door.