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

by Cathrine Goldstein

  “Let it go, Sum.” Malcolm shook his head, laughing. “Jimmy’s not holding a grudge.”

  She nodded, so lost in his world, she had no ability to plot or plan. All she could do was sit back and enjoy, having no idea what was going to happen next.

  ****

  “I want you to wear this for me…” They were naked in a large sized bed in the back of his tour bus. Soft, puffy blankets were tucked around them, and Winston was asleep at their feet. Malcolm’s show had been a huge success in Philadelphia, and they were heading farther south. Malcolm was dangling his St. Francis medallion in front of Summer. She reached up and touched it, tentatively.

  “Planning to strip onstage?” She giggled, twirling the medal in his grasp.

  “Something like that. This way, if you’re wearing it, sitting in the front row—it’ll still be like the medallion is on me. It’ll bring me luck.”

  Summer inhaled deeply. What was happening here?

  “Don’t wanna?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Of course I do.”

  “C’mere…”

  He pulled her up to sitting, and the blankets fell away from her breasts. He smiled at her, and she didn’t bother to cover up.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  She turned her back to him and lifted her hair. He placed the medal around her neck and clasped it. He leaned forward, kissing the back of her neck, softly…over and over…

  She raised her shoulders. When the excitement was too much to stand, she let her hair flop down around them. He reached forward and clasped her breasts, holding her, his fingers rolling her nipples. Some of her hair caught in his grasp, tickling her. Immediately, her already taut nipples hardened with his touch. He leaned forward, kissing her ear, gently.

  Tiny bumps sprouted up and down her body. She tried to turn to him, but he held her still.

  “I want you like I have never wanted another woman. Ever…”

  Air expelled from her lungs like water rushing over a waterfall, and she gasped to take a breath. He removed his hands from her breasts, and kissed her shoulders, wrapping his hands around her soft belly. His strong hands, callused from years of playing guitar, made their way to her lap. He reached down between her thighs, separating them, and then his fingers moved back upward, settling.

  “God…” He moaned into her ear as his finger explored the length of her.

  She was already so wet, her body ached to be with him. She leaned back against him, loving the feel of his incredibly strong arms holding her. His finger settled in just the right spot, and Summer reached up behind her, arching her back, grasping his neck. After a few more minutes of constant pleasure, his finger made its way downward, pushing its way in.

  “Oh, Malcolm…” She turned her head demurely, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder—surrendering all control.

  Having Malcolm Angel inside her made her wild. She craned her neck, turning back to him, and he kissed her, full on the mouth. His tongue made its way into her mouth as his finger slid in and out. Holding her by her inner thighs, he pulled her up onto his lap. Her breath rushed from her as he slid on a condom. Still with her back to him, he lifted her. Her eyes flew open, and she gasped as he brought her down on top of him.

  “Malcolm…”

  He pushed harder against her as her legs opened wider, making room for him.

  “That’s good…” Malcolm purred into her ear. “Summer, baby, that’s so good…”

  He tucked her legs beneath her, wrapping them around his hips. He lifted and lowered her hips in time with him. He pulled her closer, covering her neck and back with kisses, and reached around, his hands finding her nipples once again.

  She cried out. Malcolm grabbed her hair with one hand, pulling her head backward, and with the other, he touched her again until she trembled hard against him. She went limp, and Malcolm leaned her forward, sliding a pillow under her hips. He stayed behind her, his thrusts harder…and stronger…and deeper. He grabbed her hips tightly, and she could feel he was teetering on the edge. He grasped her hair again and pushed into her, completely. She clenched her jaw and moved her hips higher, driving him even deeper—never wanting this to end.

  “God, Summer…”

  Summer’s teeth chattered as he finished. He released his hold on her and sat back on his heels, panting. She wiggled her hips down against the pillow. Her head was turned, her cheek against the mattress, her hair cascading across the pillow.

  He slid forward and lay on top of her, kissing her cheek. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. I—I loved it…” She smiled, her arms folded under her pillow.

  Carefully, he rolled off of her and onto his back. He pulled her against him, and while the miles of road rolled by beneath them, she fell asleep with her head on Malcolm Angel’s chest.

  ****

  Summer sat in the front row, her eyes glued on Malcolm. He moved like a god onstage. He was born to be there, he owned the stage…and when he pointed his mic toward her and threw her a kiss with his two fingers, he owned her, too. The pull between her legs assured her of that.

  The medallion she wore around her neck warmed with her flush, and she sat, mesmerized, as Malcolm sang song after song for thousands of screaming fans. When he sat downstage on his stool, Summer, like everyone, knew he was preparing to sing his most famous love ballad—but only she knew what it meant.

  “Hey, there…” Malcolm crooned into the microphone. He sat with one leg on a rung on the stool, the guitar across his lap. He was so, so…sexy.

  Summer shivered, feeling the bumps up and down her arms, knowing what was waiting for her only hours from now. She pushed her thighs against the seat, forcing herself to stay still. She wanted him—so much. Now. She’d wait only as long as she had to. Tonight, as he showered off his performance, she would join him. She smirked at her plan, and he smiled at her from stage.

  “Well,” Malcolm ran his hand up through his hair.

  The audience went wild in response.

  “As most of you know—”

  “We love you, Malcolm!”

  “I love you, too, guys.” He lifted his arm, pointing to the seats in the upper levels. And then his eyes made their way to Summer.

  “Huh…” Her breath hitched, and she sat back in her seat, trying to keep from hyperventilating.

  It was barely perceptible, and it lasted for only a micro-moment, but Malcolm Angel absolutely looked at her when he said, “I love you.”

  Summer’s eyes widened, and she looked immediately at the floor. She had to let him off the hook. It was all chance, for certain. The world’s most confirmed bachelor was not telling her he loved her. It was impossible. Besides, romantic love didn’t exist. She knew this. It was a money making ploy created by card companies. Successful couples built relationships on mutual respect and similar goals….that was all. She took a deep breath and looked back up at the stage.

  He smiled, laughing to himself. “So…you know what’s comin’…and I know what’s comin’…so whaddaya say we break the rules tonight?”

  The audience applauded wildly.

  “Whaddaya say we’re a little…bad…” He said the word with his mouth tight to the microphone, and Summer’s heart raced in response. Good grief how she wanted him—inside her—right now.

  “We love you!”

  This time Malcolm just lifted his arm in response, and his drummer began a slow beat Summer didn’t recognize.

  “You guys…” Malcolm smiled and turned back to Jimmy, saying something no one else could hear. Jimmy nodded in response. Malcolm turned back to the audience. “You guys are special.”

  Thunderous applause rocked the arena.

  “Yeah, I knew you were special.”

  Jimmy joined in now, also with a slow, sexy rhythm, new to Summer.

  “I’m gonna play something for you. And only for you.”

  The audience screamed and cheered, people jumping up and down on their seats.

  “Well, because it’s s
ummer. And summer’s my favvvorite…” he dragged the word out, “…season. How ’bout you?”

  Summer’s breath quickened. Was it just a coincidence he was singing a song about summer…now? Why hadn’t he ever written one before he met her? She covered her ears, the earplugs offering little buffer from the screaming crowd.

  “Then,” the slow sexy beat kept up, “after I play somethin’ new—I’m gonna play you somethin’ old.”

  His eyelids were heavy, and her body responded to him with a familiar ache. She took a deep breath and pushed it out her mouth.

  “This way…we do it twice. Whaddaya say?”

  The audience screamed in response, and Malcolm looked deliberately at Summer. She grinned.

  “So I’m just gonna give you a little tease here…but we all like a little foreplay, right?”

  Screams shook the arena, and security stopped three different women from trying to grab Malcolm onstage.

  Malcolm didn’t even notice the mayhem, instead his face adopted a look of stern concentration, and he began strumming his guitar. The band joined in as he sang.

  “People often ask me, and what can I say? The warmest sun on me on the coldest winter day…”

  He shook his head, playing along.

  “Nah, not for me—I’m forever wild and free. No choice I’ll make, no other I’ll forsake…”

  Summer swallowed hard.

  “Sometimes people wonder, is it the sound of the thunder…echoing tonight, bringing charge to my respite…”

  “Nah, not me…no one I can see. I take ’em all the same, the pieces in my game.”

  Summer’s jaw clenched.

  “I’ve been asked before, is there one at your door? Who’ll silently await, touched by the hand of fate…?”

  “Nah, not me…I’m lost in my own sea…no land in sight, no hand to hold tight…”

  “And then Summer… Mmm-mm, hmmm… And then, Summer…Mmm-mm, hmmm…”

  “You see: I’m no good at all, my heart’s an empty ball…beating recklessly…tiring effortlessly…”

  “And then Summer… Mmm-mm, hmmm… And then, Summer…Mmm-mm, hmmm…”

  “Your eyes the color of the sincerest night…your voice gave purpose to my flight…”

  “And then Summer… Mmm-mm, hmmm… And then, Summer…Mmm-mm, hmmm…”

  “Because of all the men I can choose to be, I’d be the one you’d want from me…I’ve walked on fire and cried in rain, felt so dead there was no pain. You gave me hope and nursed my scar, saved me from myself so far…so yeah, it’s Summer…”

  “Mmm-mm, hmmm… It’s Summer…Mmm-mm, hmmm…”

  “Summer. The only place I want to be, because Summer…you’re every single season… to me.”

  He finished the song, letting his head drop. As the crowd went wild with applause and cheers, Summer reached up to wipe a tear from her eye. He turned to her and smiled. She inhaled, smiling back.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sitting on the tour bus, Summer leaned her head against the window, enjoying the beautiful scenic country whizzing by. Malcolm sat next to her, working out new songs, his guitar on his lap. She petted Winston, smiling, knowing this was as close to heaven as she had ever been. She loved the old farms with the giant red barns and tall silos. She breathed deeply, imagining the sweet smell of grass in the country air. She inhaled Malcolm, and closed her eyes as she fantasized about the two of them, on just such a farm, together. How absurd.

  Her head rolled back toward Malcolm. He was writing and rewriting a piece of music—humming something, scribbling furiously, and then cursing under his breath as he erased. She snickered; did he know he talked to himself while he worked? Of course he did—his work was writing music. Did he know he furrowed his brow when he concentrated? Or that he scratched the scruff on his chin when he contemplated something new? Did he know the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, or that his eyelids grew heavy when he made love to her? Summer shifted in her seat and glanced around a full tour bus, suddenly wishing it was only the two of them.

  It wouldn’t matter now anyway, because Malcolm was working. He worked a lot, and incredibly hard. She shook her head thinking of the millions of people who believed being a rock star was easy. And why shouldn’t they? Malcolm made it seem that way. He never let them see the hours of rehearsal and practice, the endless nights of writing and rewriting, the commitment to staying in top physical shape. He was an artist, athlete, and lover, all rolled into one. And thankfully, at this moment, he was her lover. She snuggled into herself, happier than she ever dreamed possible.

  They hadn’t spoken most of last night. He was quiet when he came offstage. He simply took her hand and led her back to the tour bus. They made love, passionately, hungrily, with Malcolm on top of her, his eyes locked on hers. Millions of words were thought between them, but for the longest time, neither of them was brave enough to utter a single one.

  When he finished, Malcolm lay on top of her. Finally, he spoke.

  “Sometimes I’m so tired, I’m grateful I’m getting older—just so I’m that much closer to the finish line.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. She whispered, softly. “That is the saddest thing I have ever heard.”

  He pushed himself up, resting on his elbows, his fingers tracing her cheeks, gently.

  “But now…now I’m not in such a rush anymore.”

  He kissed her completely.

  On the bus, Summer ran her fingers across her lips absentmindedly, thinking of his kiss. She adjusted her white and yellow peasant blouse, the one she had worn on their first date. Her movement caught Malcolm’s attention.

  “That’s still my favorite shirt.” He grinned. “The only thing I like more is when you’re wearing my t-shirts. Or, uh, even better, no shirt at all…” He leaned over and kissed her, like they were a married couple, celebrating an anniversary.

  She giggled.

  Malcolm gazed past her and out the window, his attention drawn outside. “Why’re we slowing down?”

  The bus came to a stop. The driver popped his head back into the seating area to talk to Malcolm.

  “Sorry, Malcolm. Construction. In the middle of the country. Who knew?” He threw up his hands and disappeared back to the cab of the bus.

  Malcolm snickered, and Summer noticed several of his band members gathering on the opposite side of the bus, staring out a window.

  “Something’s got their attention.” Summer pointed to the window, and Malcolm turned to see.

  “What’re you guys looking at?”

  Malcolm’s drummer, Eric, turned to him. “A cow. Doing some weird dance thing. Stepping side to side, then lifting her tail and trying to squat. Looks like the farmer’s dancing with her. Maybe he’s going to put it up online. Pretty amusing.”

  Summer sat up straight. “What? What cow?” She slid Winston off her lap and made her way to the window, where she saw a malnourished cow with a swollen belly, moving exactly as the drummer described. Summer swiveled her head back and forth, her eyes searching the field, desperately looking for some sort of assistance for the cow, but the old farmer was all alone.

  “Darn it.” Summer turned back.

  The bus began to roll forward, slowly.

  “Malcolm, stop the bus.”

  “What?” Malcolm shook his head. “What are you talking—”

  “Please, Malcolm. Make him pull over. Stop the bus.” Summer pushed past Malcolm and ran to the bathroom. She scrubbed her hands, making them as sterile as possible. She emerged just as the bus was slowing down. She kept her hands elevated, her elbows bent.

  “Summer, what’s going on?” Malcolm narrowed his brow, reaching for her.

  Summer turned away. “You can’t touch my hands right now. I’m sterile. Or as close as I can get. That cow needs help.” The members of the band were staring at her. “I need someone—maybe more than one of you—who can stand blood and a lot of it. Follow me.”

  Summer
dashed down the steps and, as best should could, hoisted herself over the highway guardrail without using her hands. She ran across the pasture with Malcolm on her heels.

  The farmer looked up at her.

  “I’m Dr. Wynters, DVM. I’m a veterinary surgeon.” She caught her breath.

  “Thank God, my cow…what’s wrong?” The farmer was as old as a great-grandfather, with a kind, sad face.

  Malcolm looked at her, shaking his head. He narrowed his eyes, completely confused. “What are you talking about? You’re a doctor? A—a surgeon?”

  “Yes.” Summer sighed. “I’m sorry, Malcolm. Really. Please, please, I’ll explain everything as soon as I can. Right now—”

  The cow let out a moan of agony. Summer hushed the cow, her eyes gazing over the cow’s beautiful rich brown color and white face.

  “Please, Malcolm. Just let me do this and give me a chance.”

  Malcolm stepped back.

  Summer turned to the farmer. “What’s your name, Mr.…?”

  “Randolph.” He wheezed when he spoke, exposing brown teeth. “Jeb Randolph.”

  “Okay, Mr. Randolph. Your cow is suffering from dystocia. She won’t be able to give birth on her own. How long has your cow been in labor?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Summer breathed deeply. “Okay. We need to get the calves delivered soon.”

  “There’s more than one?”

  Wishing, in vain, for latex gloves, Summer palpated the cow’s abdomen. “Judging from the size of her belly, I’m guessing twins. They’re often a problem.”

  Summer walked behind the cow, and the cow twitched, mooing in agony.

  “Has she dropped her water sac yet?”

  The farmer pushed up his hat and scratched his head, moving much slower than Summer needed him to. “Hard to say…”

  “Did anything come out of her yet? Round? Like a…a balloon filled with water?”

  “Oh yeah…saw something like that. She dropped it up closer to the farm.”

  Summer nodded, knowing her window of opportunity was quickly closing. Waiting too long to assist a cow in stage two of the birthing process can mean death for the calf and cow. “We need to proceed now. How far is your farm?” Summer looked over the land, surveying the situation. “I need to get her into a chute and headgate.”