Rock Star

by Roslyn Hardy Holcomb

  “Yeah, but a fine guy like that doesn’t just walk in this store every day. If it was me he’d been checking out, I would’ve been all over it.”

  A customer entered the store, triggering the buzzer designed to alert them. Callie gave a sigh of relief, happy to be extricated from the conversation, “Oh well, back to the salt mines,” she drawled, turning to reenter the sales floor.

  * * *

  Bryan peered through the plate-glass window of the Books and So Forth storefront. In the past month he’d been back several times, but the massive crowds had been a strong deterrent to entering. Indeed, the level of activity had more closely resembled a train station back East than any bookstore he’d ever been to. The place seemed to be occupied day and night. He’d never seen anything like it. These women had to be marketing geniuses to keep their store so busy in a small town. Unfortunately, the crowds were a major problem for him. He didn’t bother trying to travel incognito because he’d found that disguises usually drew more, not less attention. However, he wasn’t in the mood for a bunch of screaming teenaged fans. The problem was that he had run out of books, not to mention that he wanted to see Callie again.

  After some consideration, he’d decided that pursuing her might help him take his mind off the absolute shambles he’d made of his life. Since he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind for weeks, it had been an easy decision. Unaccustomed to celibacy, Bryan had concluded that his fixation on Callie could only be attributed to his lack of sexual release. He’d never been celibate before for longer than a few weeks, but at the moment he was well into his fourth month and not enjoying it at all. His breath whistled through his teeth approvingly when he saw Callie on a ladder putting some books on a high bookshelf in the otherwise empty store.

  Going in, Bryan leaned against the bookcase casually, gazing up at the picture Callie made as she perched on top of the ladder. She was wearing her typical work outfit, well-tailored gray gabardine trousers and a deep rose pink sweater set and loafers. The vibrant color added to the natural luminosity of her skin. Could it possibly be as smooth and soft as it looked? Today her locks were pulled up into an elegant updo, and Bryan enjoyed the view of her gracefully curved neck and shoulders. Is there anything about this woman that isn’t sexy? Feeling the effect she had on him and not wanting to have his arousal become evident, he finally spoke up. “Good morning.”

  Callie started, and bobbled a bit on the ladder before steadying herself. She looked down into a pair of familiar blue eyes. “Okay, you’ve really got to stop doing that!” she exclaimed.

  “Doing what?” Bryan asked, pleased to have flustered her.

  “Stop sneaking up on me.” And checking out my ass, she added silently to herself. “How do you do that anyway?” she asked, climbing down the ladder. “You’re wearing those big, clunky boots again, and I should be able to hear you from across the room on these wood floors.”

  Bryan held the ladder steady until she reached the bottom. “I’ve always been light on my feet. I do a lot of hiking, so I always walk with soft knees.”

  Callie could tell that he did get a lot of physical exercise. His thighs and legs, outlined as they were in black denim, were well-sculpted and taut. She’d always had a preference for long-legged men, and Bryan’s were definitely some of the best legs she’d seen.

  Bryan changed the subject. “You know, it’s almost impossible to get into this store. I’ve been back several times, and it’s always a madhouse.”

  Callie grinned, always happy to discuss the store’s very healthy balance sheet. “Yeah, I know. It’s terrific. This time of year is always very busy with back-to-school shopping. Then we wind down until the Thanksgiving rush and Christmas. You have a problem with crowds?” she asked, looking up at him quizzically.

  “Not necessarily,” he replied. “I just don’t want to be bothered right now. I’m here for some rest and relaxation.”

  Callie nodded. “That’s what most folks come here for, especially all the hiking, camping, and fishing. So what can I do today to help you on your mission? Are you looking for some more Gibson books? Did you finish those Octavia Butlers?”

  Bryan nodded, fairly certain that Callie didn’t want to know why he needed to relax at this point.

  “Yeah, and you were right. Octavia Butler is a great writer. Her vision of an apocalyptic future is almost too real for me, you know what I mean?” Callie nodded. “I mean, it’s really possible, hell, even probable, that we’ll bring about our own destruction through ignorance and greed. It just amazes me that even in a state like California they could vote to deny medical benefits and education to the children of illegal immigrants. How narrow-minded and shortsighted can you be?”

  As Callie listened to this impassioned speech, she noticed not for the first time the raspy quality of his voice. He sounded as if he drank a quart of bourbon and smoked a pack of unfiltered cigarettes before getting out of bed each morning. She wondered if he smoked, but could detect no odor of cigarette smoke on him. Surprisingly, his views closely mirrored her own.

  “That’s the amazing thing about Butler. She projects the issues we have today to the only outcome possible in the future,” she replied. “We already live in a society where access to education and healthcare is dependent on wealth. For the life of me I can’t figure out why people don’t understand that we are all better served when everyone has good healthcare and education.”

  Bryan gave her that brilliant grin again. “Will you marry me?”

  Callie stepped back. “What?”

  “I always told B.T. that when I met a woman who was as intelligent as she is beautiful I would marry her on the spot.”

  Callie smiled, “You are silly.” She nudged his arm. “Who is B.T.?” she asked curiously.

  Bryan leaned back against the bookcase, his arms still crossed. “B.T. is Bobby Tom Breedlove, my manager,” he replied in his best corn pone accent.

  Callie snorted sardonically, “Bryan, nobody is named Bobby Tom Breedlove.”

  “Well, you’ve got a point there. Everything else about him is fake, so I’m sure the name is, too.”

  “If you know the guy is fake, why on earth do you let him manage you? And exactly what does he manage for you anyway? The only folks I know who have managers are athletes and celebrities.” When Bryan didn’t respond, she gave him another close look, then scurried over to the magazine rack. “Oh my God. You’re Bryan Spencer,” she whispered almost to herself, picking up a copy of a magazine. “You’re on the cover of Rolling Stone this month.”

  Bryan followed her. “Yeah, B.T. told me about that. What did they call the article? ‘The Casualty Report’ or something like that?”

  Callie nodded, looking at the photograph of Bryan and three other young men. Bryan was in the center, dressed in black, his hair hanging loosely around his shoulders. He had another guy, a muscular redhead, in a headlock. Standing on the other side of him were the other two band members, one with closely cropped blonde hair, the other with long, artfully coifed white-blonde hair hanging in loose waves. A large hypodermic needle was superimposed over the image.

  Bryan took the magazine from her hands, clearly irritated by the photograph. “It would’ve been nice if they’d at least talked to somebody in the band before they published this crap,” he muttered to himself.

  Callie looked up at him quizzically. “Why is there a big syringe across your picture? What are they trying to say? Are y’all into drugs or something?”

  “I—uh,” Bryan started to speak, unsure of how much information he wanted to share with a total stranger. Yet he somehow instinctively trusted Callie and was sure that he could confide his secrets to her. Then his stomach growled loudly. He recovered quickly. “Tell you what. Join me for lunch, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Callie was surprised. “Lunch?”

  Bryan nodded, “You know, the meal that comes between breakfast and dinner.”

  “Well, I don’t usually go out for lunch. T
he store is open from nine o’clock until five-thirty, so I just grab a quick bite in the break room.”

  “Hell, that’s got to be a violation of the Geneva Convention or something. You mean you never leave during store hours?” Bryan asked in mock astonishment.

  “I don’t think the Geneva Convention covers bookstores, and of course I leave the store, but I get Tonya to cover,” Callie responded, getting increasingly nervous about the direction this conversation was taking.

  Bryan groaned as if in excruciating pain. “Look, Callie, the lady at the supermarket down the street told me that the little restaurant next door has the best soup in the state. I was really looking forward to trying it while looking at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…Couldn’t you in the name of humanity simply sit and eat with a starving man?”

  Callie giggled in spite of herself. She was nervous about the idea of having lunch with this guy, but on the other hand, it would only be next door. How dangerous could that be? Besides, she really wanted to hear his story. She couldn’t believe that she, of all people, was getting all giddy over a man, and a rock star at that. But he was really nice, with a dry, self-deprecating sense of humor. She’d always been a sucker for a wry wit. While to a grown woman his being a rock star was a bit distasteful, she couldn’t resist hearing more about him.

  Cutting off all thoughts of felines slain by inquisitiveness she replied, “Okay, but first…” She moved within a hairsbreadth of him and looked up directly into his eyes, trying to discern any hint of glassiness or other symptoms of drug use, though she wasn’t entirely sure what they were. “You need to answer one question.”

  Bryan inhaled her light citrus scent, enjoying the close proximity. Of course he knew exactly what she was concerned about. “No, Callie, I’m not on any illegal substance of any kind.” He raised two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  Callie raised a brow. “Were you ever a Scout?”

  “Kicked out when I was twelve. But that time was two of the best weeks of my life.” He shoved his sleeves up. “See, no track marks either. Of course, I’ll be more than happy to let you give me a full-body inspection.” He leered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

  Callie shook her head and gave him a helpless grin. “Pervert! I’ll just ask Tonya to come down.” She walked over and punched the intercom on the counter. “Tonya, I need to go out for lunch. Can you come down and cover for me?”

  “Go out to lunch?” Tonya questioned. “But you have your lunch right up here.”

  Callie sighed at her friend’s nosiness. “Look, I received an invitation to lunch. Can you come down?”

  Tonya rushed down the stairs, almost tripping in her haste. She was brought up short when she saw Bryan standing near the counter. She inclined her head at him. “Hello, Bryan.” Turning to Callie she asked, “Is he your lunch date?” Callie nodded. Tonya raised both brows. “Well, see you two later. Have fun.” She waved, a sly smile on her face.

  Chapter 3

  Granny’s was crowded as usual, but Callie and Bryan managed to find a small table in a back corner. Like all the buildings in downtown Maple Fork, it had a charming exterior of aged red brick. The trim around its front windows was painted a cheerful bubble-gum pink. No one had ever bothered with signage on the door. It was unnecessary; everybody in town knew where Granny’s was. The space had been expanded due to the restaurant’s popularity, and now it encompassed two store spaces and had approximately thirty tables. The interior was painted bright apple green, and floral prints hung on the walls. The blue and white checkered tablecloths added to the old-fashioned ambiance. True to the name, it actually looked like a grandmother’s kitchen. Callie inhaled deeply as they entered the restaurant, hoping against hope that Granny was serving her favorite beef vegetable soup and carrot raisin bread. The tempting aroma of home-baked bread and sweet, locally grown vegetables greeted her, and she smiled with pleasure. The fact that Granny only served one menu item per day was a running joke in Maple Fork, and no one ever knew what that item would be. Granny herself was a political powerhouse in the county. No one got elected to any office without her say-so, and you were likely to run into any number of politicians in the restaurant. Even the governor made a beeline for Granny’s when he was in the area and had brought the vice president in during his campaign swing through the state. His aide had been rebuffed when he tried to demand that the restaurant be reserved for the special occasion. Granny didn’t do those kinds of favors. The vice president had to take his chances just like the rest of Granny’s loyal clientele.

  Callie slid into a hardwood, straightback chair. Like everything else at Granny’s, the chairs and tables were simple and plain. The food was the main event. “You know, we’re very lucky that Granny opened today.”

  Bryan did likewise, leaning in closer to be heard over the din of the crowd. “What do you mean?” He paused. “You mean there really is a Granny?”

  Callie laughed dismissively.“Bryan, you’re not in L.A. anymore. Of course there really is a Granny, but she doesn’t exactly keep regular hours. She only opens when she feels like it.”

  “How the hell does she stay in business like that?” Bryan asked.

  Callie nodded at his bowl. “Taste your soup.” Bryan did so, and an expression of ecstasy crossed his face.

  “Any questions?” Callie asked, laughing at the look on his face. “And if you think that’s good, taste the carrot raisin bread.” Bryan did so, groaning in appreciation of the gastronomic delight.

  “Who is this woman? My God, she’s a goddess of all things culinary!” he exclaimed.

  “That’s what everybody says.” She leaned toward Bryan and whispered conspiratorially, “And every now and then, if we’re really, really good, we get apple pear pie.”

  Bryan enjoyed this bit of silliness from Callie. Watching her full, sensuous lips purse as she spoke, he couldn’t help envisioning those lips pressed against his own. Knowing the impact that train of thought would have on his body, Bryan focused on the conversation at hand. He widened his eyes and leaned in closer to Callie, raising his hand so that other diners couldn’t see what they were saying. “And who do we have to kill for this privilege?” he whispered back.

  Callie leaned back in her chair laughing helplessly. “According to Granny we only get pie when we deserve pie. Unfortunately, no one knows what it is that makes us deserve such an honor. Trust me, if we did, we’d do it every day.” Bryan joined her in laughter as she shared additional anecdotes about the eccentric creator of the best food he’d ever tasted.

  Eventually they sobered, and Callie gave him a questioning look to see if he was ready to start answering questions.

  Bryan nodded. “Okay, look, I’m a musician, in a band called Storm Crow.”

  Callie nodded, making a motion with her hand for him to continue.

  “About four months ago, my best friend, Brodie…” Bryan paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. He took a deep breath and rushed out, “Brodie died from a heroin overdose.”

  Callie was stunned. As far as she knew, none of her friends or acquaintances had ever used drugs, and she had never known anyone personally who’d died from substance abuse. She realized, however, that it was commonplace in the music industry. During the early to mid-1990s, rock stars had died of heroin overdoses at an astonishing rate, but it was an almost inconceivable concept to her. She placed her hand over Bryan’s on the table. “Oh, Bryan, I’m so sorry.” She paused as she saw a sheen of tears in those stormy eyes. “We don’t have to talk about this; it’s really none of my business.”

  Bryan was momentarily distracted by the softness of Callie’s hand on his own. Although he was a very tactile person, such an innocent touch had never given him shivers down his spine. Wanting to prolong the sensation, he turned his hand upwards to grasp hers.

  “No, it’s okay, I want to tell you about it.” He paused for a moment, startled to realize that he really did want to share this with her. Normally he had no interest in t
alking about his personal life with anyone. He rested his chin on his other hand while still holding hers. “Anyway, since Brodie died, I’ve been out of it. Acting a damned fool, as B.T. would say.” He attempted a smile.

  “What have you been doing?” Callie asked, concerned about possible drug use, despite his disavowal of it.

  “Not what you’re thinking, I’m sure. For the record, I don’t do drugs at all, okay? Actually, I lead a pretty healthy lifestyle. Our bassist’s girlfriend owns a holistic health store, and she has all of us on a pretty strict regimen of diet and exercise. I mean, I messed around with it when I was younger, but I learned pretty quickly that it’s not for me.”

  He inhaled sharply as he thought about how awful the past few months had been. “Mainly I was crashing cars and getting into fights.”

  Callie’s eyes teared. “Bryan, I’m so sorry. That must have been horrible for you.”

  Bryan sighed heavily. “It’s getting better.” He looked directly into her eyes. “Much better.”

  Callie suddenly became aware that Bryan still held her hand. She could feel vibrations from the contact, and the warmth tantalized her. Carefully sliding it free, she nervously picked at a piece of bread. Bryan didn’t break his gaze, and finally Callie looked away. She suddenly became aware of the hubbub in the crowded restaurant. Still feeling out of her element, she stared blindly at the floral prints on the walls. Bryan leaned back in his chair and smiled cannily. He understood that he was getting to her and was pleased with the results.

  “Well, anyway, B.T. got pissed with me and really reamed me out good. He told me to get out of town and gave me a plane ticket and keys to the cabin where I’m staying. I can’t go back until he tells me I can.”

  “Good grief, was it that bad?” Callie asked, distracted from her perusal of the room.

  “I pay B.T. an obscene amount of money to watch the bottom line for me, and he’s convinced it’s pretty bad. Plus, he thinks it would interfere with his big plans for a movie career for me.”