“His time is running out when he meets an ugly old woman who says she’ll tell him if the knight will grant her any wish she wants. He’s kind of over a barrel, so he agrees… and they go back to Guinevere… and that’s where I stopped.”
“Do you want to know the ending?” he asked in a very self-satisfied voice.
A little too self-satisfied for my tastes.
“You know the ending,” I said, totally unconvinced.
“I told you I read some of the stories after I heard ‘Whiter Shade of Pale.’ This was one of them.”
I looked at him from the corner of my eyes.
Was he trying to impress me with his obscure knowledge of Chaucer?
Or was he just bluffing (and still trying to impress me)?
Hell… what did I have to lose?
“Seeing as I need to sleep, and the test is at 9AM… sure.”
“The old woman gives him the right answer,” Derek said serenely.
“Which is?”
“Women want power over their husbands.”
I gave him a look like You gotta be kidding me. “That’s stupid.”
“You don’t agree?” he asked with a lazy smile.
“Well, I don’t know what’s in the Chaucer story, but… yeah, I don’t really think that’s what women want.”
“Well, Chaucer says you’re wrong.”
“Does he now.”
“Yup. So do the queen and all the women of the court. They agree with the knight, so they spare his life. But the ugly old chick – ”
“You’re such a feminist,” I taunted him.
“Shut up, I’m helping you get an ‘A,’” he grinned. “Anyway, the ugly old chick tells the queen about the knight’s promise, and she says she wants to marry the knight. The queen says, ‘Done deal. You’re married. BOOM.’ The knight is NOT happy, but he has no choice, so he marries her.”
“Sucks to be him.”
“Just wait,” Derek cautioned me. “So, they go up to sleep together, but she can tell he thinks she’s fug-lyyyyy. And she’s mad about it, so she says, ‘At least you know I won’t cheat on you. Which would you rather have, an ugly old wife who doesn’t cheat, or a beautiful young wife who sleeps around?’ And he says…”
He paused for dramatic emphasis.
“Care to take a guess?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“A hot chick.”
I mean, that’s the obvious choice. That’s what all guys want, right?
Derek grinned. “No. He was smart. He said… ‘You decide.’”
“Ahhhhh.”
Okay, maybe Chaucer was onto something.
Derek continued, “And the old lady is happy because the knight gave her power over him, so she tells him he can have both – a hot chick who’s loyal to him. She tells him to kiss her – and when he does, she turns into a hot chick, and they live happily ever after.”
“Now I see why you didn’t sleep with my roommate,” I teased him.
Interestingly enough, Derek looked a little alarmed when I said it. “Why?”
“You probably go around kissing ugly old chicks, hoping they’ll turn into hot ones.”
It was a totally stupid nonsense line, borne of a sleep-deprived brain at 3AM. Of course he didn’t go around doing that.
But his response knocked the breath out of me.
He stared me right in the eyes and said, “No… it’s because when I find a beautiful girl I like, that’s the one I stay with.”
Holy shit.
I could feel my cheeks burning. And that wasn’t the only part of me getting warm.
I stared at him, speechless.
He just watched me with those sexy, half-lidded, emerald-green eyes.
Then he leaned in to kiss me –
And I jumped up from the floor like somebody had shocked me with electric wires.
“I have to go to bed,” I babbled. “It was really nice meeting you.”
He stumbled to his feet, too. His face was grim, like he was a little bit pissed off.
“You too,” he said.
“I’ll, uh… I’ll see you around,” I said, and waved goofily.
“Definitely.”
I darted inside my room and closed the door, but the entire time I was looking at him.
The last thing I saw was his emerald-green eyes peering straight into mine.
I turned the lock and stood there in the darkness, my heart thudding in my chest, listening for the sound of him walking away.
It took forever, but finally I heard his feet pad down the hall and the stairwell doors open and close.
I felt the strangest mix of emotions.
Relief – that I’d stayed faithful to Kevin.
Sadness – that I’d missed out on something I desperately wanted, deep down in my very core.
And anger… whether at myself or my absent ex-boyfriend, I couldn’t have told you.
But the strongest feeling was one of loss.
12
Present Day
Glen stared at me like I’d just turned down a million dollars for doing nothing more than writing a book report.
“What?” he asked, stunned.
“No,” I croaked, fully aware I was throwing away the best opportunity of my career thus far. Maybe even the best opportunity of my entire career, even if it lasted four decades. “Sorry.”
“You do understand what I’m offering you, right?”
“To write an article on Derek Kane.”
“And the band,” Glen stressed, as though that might be the piece of information I had overlooked.
“Yeah. No thank you.”
“Not just a half-page fluff piece – I’m talking a full-on, six-page spread. I mean, if you turn in a good enough story, we’re potentially talking the cover.”
“Yeah. Thank you, but no.”
The longer he stared at me, the more his disbelief turned to anger. “You do realize that is a one in a million offer, right? You don’t just get handed the cover of Rolling Stone – not when you’re some unknown writer a year out of college. I mean, you realize that, right?”
“Yes, and I’m really sorry, but I can’t do it.”
He sat there, his mouth hanging open. “Can I ask why?”
“There’s just… too much history there. Too many… raw wounds.”
He shook his head. “Most kids in your position would sell their fucking soul for this chance.”
“Yeah, well…” I said, my voice trailing off. “Are there any other positions open I could interview for?”
“No,” he snapped. “This is it.”
“Oh… well, thank you for your time, anyway,” I said, and gathered my things and stood.
He stood up at the same time. His anger was quickly turning into the beginning stages of panic. “Wait – don’t you want to think about it? Give it some time to marinate – ”
“No,” I said, and forced a smile. “Thank you, though.”
“Just think about it!” he urged me.
“If I change my mind, I’ll call you,” I said as I opened the glass door to his office and backed out. “Thanks again. Sorry.”
Then I ran down the hallway as fast as I could, and dashed into the stairwell rather than wait for the elevator.
I was afraid he might come running after me.
I was even more afraid he might talk me into it.
13
I stumbled out of the Rolling Stone building and onto the street.
I was furious.
At Glen…
At myself…
At Rolling Stone…
At Fate…
…but mostly at a certain former college roommate.
I whipped out my phone and dialed.
“Hey, Kaitlyn, what up?” Shanna answered.
“What the fuck?!” I yelled at her, loud enough that the jaded New Yorkers on the street gave me a wide berth as they hustled by.
“Ohhhhhhh,” she said in that apologetic voice she used back
in freshman year when she brought two guys home in the same week. “You talked to Glen, huh.”
“YEAH, I talked to Glen,” I barked. “What the fuck, Shanna?!”
“Look, I was just looking out for you – ”
“What, by pimping me out to magazine editors?”
“Oh, God, don’t be so melodramatic,” she sighed.
“How did the two of you meet, exactly?”
“At a party.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
She cackled on the other end. “Oh my God, NO. I DO have standards, you know.”
This was the first I’d heard of them.
Actually, that’s not fair. Most of Shanna’s conquests tended to be fairly good-looking. They just usually lacked employment, intelligence, and any sort of future.
“Look, I know you’re pissed, but… meet me at the Forum for a drink and let me explain.”
“Explain what?” I seethed. “Selling my memories to guys you’re not even sleeping with?”
“No, trying to help jumpstart your career – which, by the sound of it, YOU’RE not even willing to do.”
Ouch.
“Fuck you.”
“Come on… what do you say? The Forum, 8 o’clock? Let me buy you a drink.”
I grumbled and mumbled, then said, “You can buy me two.”
She laughed. “And to think, this is the thanks I get for hooking you up with Rolling Stone. What are you going to do if I get you a gig at Newsweek?”
“Probably kill you,” I conceded, my fury lessening a little.
“Probably. The Forum, 8 o’clock, okay?”
“You’re buying.”
“First round only. After that, we’ll see,” she laughed.
“…okay,” I mumbled, then hung up.
It was a little bit ridiculous to be angry at somebody who had just gotten me an interview with Rolling Stone.
For a cover article, no less.
But I was bound and determined to hang onto my anger for as long as I could.
No matter how illogical it was.
14
Four Years Ago
Shanna was cold as ice to me the next morning – and it wasn’t just her hangover. She gave me the glare of death the entire time I was getting ready, though she didn’t say anything.
Finally I turned around and blurted out, “I didn’t sleep with him.”
“What a coincidence,” she sneered. “Neither did I.”
I hustled out of there as fast as possible and went to my English class.
I know Shanna was pissed, and she had every right to be – but it’s not like I’d wangled a hot new boyfriend out of the deal.
In fact, I was absolutely sure I would never see him again.
Not like ‘see’ as in ‘go out on a date with,’ either.
‘See’ as in ‘run into around town.’
I had resigned myself to that fact for many reasons.
He was an incredibly good-looking guy (incredibly good-looking), in a band, cool, charismatic, funny, surprisingly smart – and he was used to picking up women and sleeping with them the same night.
He’d had a brief interruption the previous night, that was all. For whatever reason, he had abandoned a sure thing to hang out with me. (If Shanna’s drunk, she’s about as close to a sure thing as a guy can get.)
Then, when I’d ducked away from his kiss… that was it, I was sure of it. Never going to see him again.
I didn’t go to shows at the clubs, I didn’t try to sneak into bars, and I didn’t hang out where we’d ever run into each other. At best, I might see him walking down Main Street with some tattooed chick all over him. Our eyes might meet… a brief second of confusion on his part, followed by an amused look of Oh yeah, aren’t you that girl who turned me down?... and then he’d probably drag his breathless date into a hallway and commence making out with her, just to show me what I’d missed out on.
15
I have to admit, I was a little curious about what I’d passed up… so I asked around. I had a friend in my Sociology class who was known for crushing exclusively on guys in local bands.
“Hey, Lindsey… have you ever heard of a guy named Derek Kane?”
Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she looked like she’d just had a spontaneous orgasm. “Oh my GOD he is SO HOT.”
I took that for a ‘yes.’
“Does he… you know… sleep around a lot?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why? Did you sleep with him?”
“NO,” I said quickly. “No, but, he, uh… he made a pass at my roommate.”
“That figures,” she snorted. “He’s the biggest man-slut ever.”
Ew.
“‘Made a pass’?” Lindsey continued with a frown. “She didn’t sleep with him?”
“No, she, uh… passed out before they did anything.”
Technically that was the truth.
Lindsey smirked. “Your roommate missed out big time.”
I got a very naughty feeling when she said that.
“Did you sleep with him?” I whispered.
She blushed a light pink. “…um… yeah.”
“Oh.”
I knew I shouldn’t ask, I knew I shouldn’t ask –
“…was he any good?”
Lindsey’s eyes rolled back in her head again, and she looked like she was having a second orgasm. “Oh my GOD, he’s incredible.”
When she said that, I felt like somebody had stabbed me in the stomach.
“…did you guys… date?” I asked feebly.
Now she was back to blushing slightly. “…um… I don’t know if I’d say that, exactly… we were kind of… seeing each other.”
“Did you go out for awhile?”
“…um… three or four times.” She paused. “…not all in a row.”
“Ah.”
Things were becoming a lot clearer now.
She shifted nervously from foot to foot. “You know how it is… we’ll see each other at a show… or at a bar… and we’ll hook up again.”
“Does he call you afterwards?”
She suddenly frosted over. “No. Why are you so interested?”
“I, uh… I told my roommate he seemed like bad news, and that she should stay away from him.”
“Well, that’s probably wise,” she said as she walked off – and then turned around with an exuberant smile. “But if you see him again, tell him I said hi! And give him my number, okay? In case he lost it.”
Ew.
16
I asked another girl – a hot chick, one who lived in my dorm – if she knew of him. She did. She hadn’t slept with him, but she knew a friend who had.
I asked about her friend’s experience.
“Well, she pretty much raved it was the best sex she’d ever had… but he never called her back again.”
So he was talented in the sack… and a total scumbag.
Gross.
“Would your friend sleep with him again if he hit on her?”
“She’d probably say she wouldn’t, but… I know her. She’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Lovely.
Although, I can’t deny, even though I was disgusted by him… phrases like ‘your roommate missed out big time’ and ‘the best sex she’d ever had’ kept echoing in my ears.
Not that it mattered in the slightest.
I was never, ever going to see him again, I was sure of it.
So, of course, he came back two days later.
17
I was folding laundry at 4 PM when somebody knocked. Shanna wasn’t home, so I called out, “Yeah?”
“It’s Derek,” a deep, incredibly sexy voice rumbled.
My heart did two backflips, and it was hard to breathe for a second.
I started to race for the door – caught myself – and walked over calmly to open it.
I tried to ignore the fact that I was in sweatpants again.
He was standing there in essentially the same get-
up as the other night, except he’d changed out the Led Zeppelin shirt for – of all things – a faded Whitesnake tour shirt.
He pointed to it with a mock gangsta expression like, Yeeeaaaah, boy, REPRESENTIN’!
I burst out laughing.
“Ohhhhh… very nice. You joined the fan club, I see.”
“Just for you,” he said, and grinned as he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed across his chest. “I had to go to three Goodwills to find this puppy.”
God, he had great arms…
“Is that so? Orrrr were you secretly a member all along, and you’re just coming out of the closet?” I teased.
“You got me.” He put his hands on his hips defiantly. “Now I’m out and proud, baby.”
“Are we talking the Whitesnake closet, or is there something else you want to tell me?”
“Why?” he asked mischievously. “If I thought I might be gay, and I was all depressed because society hates me, would you try to help me… figure things out?”
Unnnnnhhh.
Despite the whole ‘I might be gay’ part, which normally would be a libido killer (but here was obviously just a joke), it was the idea of how I could help him ‘figure things out’ that got me.
I had to fight to keep down the fluttering in my belly.
Remember: man-slut, the little angel on my right shoulder whispered.
Best sex of her LIFE, the little devil on the left smirked.
Kevin – remember Kevin, the angel urged.
Your EX-boyfriend, the little devil shouted.
“No, but Shanna would be up for that,” I finally said.
“Shanna doesn’t need that excuse to take a guy to bed.”
I laughed. “True. But haven’t you heard? Society doesn’t hate gay people anymore.”
“Haven’t you heard?” he shot back. “We’re in Georgia.”
I laughed again. “Well, the Baptist Student Union is right down the street. I’m pretty sure they’ll help you ‘pray the gay away.’”
“Great, I’ll just go down there and – oh, you know what?”
He pulled out his shirt collar and looked down at his chest as though he were inspecting something.
Rock Me Hard (The Rock Star's Seduction) Page 4