Rock Star

by Roslyn Hardy Holcomb

  Her voice tight with anger, Callie continued, “Exactly. So if we’re together, and I certainly don’t meet the beauty standard, then you must be using me for sex. Now do you get it?”

  Bryan was taken aback by her angry tone. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard all that stuff. But women are women.”

  Callie pursed her lips. “Yeah, I suppose you’d be in a position to know.” She paused. She’d been curious about this from the beginning. “I assume you’ve been with a black woman before?”

  “Of course. I grew up in East L.A., there were all types of women. I’ve never discriminated.” Bryan shifted uneasily in the driver’s seat. Hopefully Callie wouldn’t ask any more questions about his sexual history.

  Callie sighed. That was not a subject she had any intention of pursuing. “Anyway, that’s just how most folks see it. There’s not much that can be done about it.”

  “You mean to tell me that every time I’ve ever been out with a black girl, people have assumed that I’m paying her?” Bryan was flabbergasted and more than mildly insulted at the notion.

  “I don’t know about how things are in California, but I’d say in most of the country, yes.”

  “That’s incredible! Why haven’t I heard about this before?”

  “I guess none of your women bothered. Maybe they were all caught up in your rock superstardom. I’ve heard that fame transcends race.” She added dryly, “At least as long as you don’t murder your ex-wife. Or maybe y’all never had a run-in like this one. Anyway, Bryan, can we please change the subject? I really don’t feel like talking about this anymore. It’s not a subject I like to spend a great deal of time pondering. The situation is as it is. I don’t think sweating it now will be of any benefit to anybody,” she finished wearily.

  Bryan, fascinated by stereotypes he’d previously had no knowledge of, wanted to continue, but he acceded to Callie’s wishes. “What was that she was doing to your hair after she washed it?” he asked, referring to the technique of tightening Callie’s locs.

  Callie then spent the rest of the trip answering his myriad questions about black hair care, and the care of dreadlocks in particular.

  * * *

  All in all it had been a very illuminating trip, but Bryan had discovered yet another obstacle in his pursuit of Callie: public opinion and stereotyping. This football game sounded like a nice neutral opportunity for him to spend time with Callie, and as a bonus he would get to meet her family.

  “So tell me more about your family,” Bryan insisted once again. “You hardly ever mention them. Are you an only child, too?”

  Callie smiled, “Not hardly, I have two younger sisters. They’re sixteen.”

  “Two younger sisters? Twins?”

  “Yeah, identical twins, they run in my family. My mama was a twin, and both her sisters have twins, too. They love your music, by the way. They’ll be thrilled to have you at the house,” Callie replied.

  Accustomed to the racial stratification of the music industry, Bryan was surprised to find that Storm Crow had any black female fans. He’d encountered a few black guys at their concerts, but no girls. Apparently this was a demographic that B.T. had missed despite his rabid attentiveness to every aspect of Storm Crow’s sales. He would enjoy ribbing him about that.

  “Have they always listened to rock music?” he asked curiously.

  Callie nodded, “Yeah, our schools here in Maple Fork are pretty small. Most of the classes are too small to break up into racial cliques like bigger schools. I think there’s only about twenty kids in Addie and Cynthia’s class. They hang together pretty closely. They seem to listen to just about anything. Mainly it’s hip-hop and alternative rock. It was the same when I was in school. But you know, we grew up listening to all kinds of music. My daddy is a big Hank Williams fan, and I’d bet we have as much Patsy Cline as we do Aretha Franklin in our house. I mean, I see folks on TV and in articles talking about ‘black music’ and ‘white music,’ and I don’t get it. Around here, good music is good music. Maybe it’s a big-city thing. Anyway, I graduated twelve years ago, and we were seriously into grunge at the time. But I’ve mellowed with age, and primarily listen to soft rock and pop.”

  Bryan grabbed his head, feigning a mortal blow. “You mean you’re not a Storm Crow fan?” He cringed as the rest of her statement sank in. “So you’re the person who listens to soft rock. I wondered who they played that crap for.”

  “ ’Fraid so, buddy. Storm Crow rocks just a little too hard for me. All that primal screaming…” She paused, looking up at him ruefully. “Oops, that’s you, isn’t it?”

  “Uh, yeah, that’s me,” Bryan replied, doubly insulted. “What have you got against primal screaming?” He pursed his lips, giving her a knowing look. “In some situations it can be, shall we say…stimulating.”

  Callie grunted. “Maybe in the circles you travel in. It just gives me gruesome nightmares. Do you write most of your songs?” Bryan nodded. “You must have lived a helluva life. Some of that stuff is bone-chilling.”

  Bryan raised his brows. “I’ve had my share of hard knocks, but of course I do have an imagination too. Anyway, I’m willing to overlook the fact that you listen to soft rock.” He winced as if saying the words wounded him grievously, “But please don’t tell anybody else. I do have an image to maintain, you know.”

  Callie giggled.

  “Now back to your sisters.” He grinned wolfishly. “Nothing like impressionable young girls to inflate the old ego.”

  Callie smacked his arm playfully, “Bryan, I think they’re way out of your league. It’s all we can do to keep the boys away. Of course, being the big-time rock star you are, you might go to the head of the line.”

  Bryan leaned forward and stared intently into Callie’s eyes. “The only girl I want is right here.”

  Callie tsked. This was the only difficulty in their relationship. His insistence on teasing her. “I really wish you would stop doing that.”

  “What?” Bryan spread his hands in an innocent gesture.

  “You know exactly what I mean. You flirt with me all the time,” Callie responded irritably.

  “Is that some type of crime around here? A man can’t flirt with a pretty girl?”

  Callie was really getting annoyed now. She didn’t like the idea of this guy playing with her feelings. “It is when you’re just having fun at my expense.”

  Bryan straightened in the chair, dumbfounded by Callie’s remark. Where in the hell had she gotten that idea? “Callie, I’m doing no such thing!” he exclaimed, but he could tell she wasn’t listening.

  “Look, Bryan, I’ve got to go back to work.”

  After giving her a frustrated look, Bryan gathered their empty plates and returned them to the counter. At least now he had an explanation for her skittish behavior. How did she get that idea in her head? A laughable concept when he had never been more serious about anything in his life. Her lips pressed together tightly, her face set into a mulish expression, she didn’t look as if she were ready to hear that, though.

  “Am I still invited to the party?” he asked hesitantly, certain that she would take any opportunity to retract the invitation.

  Callie stood up. Though she was fairly certain that she would regret this decision, she couldn’t resist the excitement of having a date with Bryan. “No, Bryan, I would never do that. My sisters would kill me. I’ll see you Saturday around three o’clock.” She gave him directions to her parents’ home.

  Bryan gave a silent sigh of relief. Thank God for her sisters. Otherwise he had a feeling he would be out in the cold. He had known from the beginning that he would have to approach Callie with care. Maybe meeting her family would give him insight into the best way to make headway with her.

  * * *

  Callie stifled a groan as she shifted her weight from her left foot to her right. It seemed that she and her mother had been shopping for days rather than mere hours. This annual ritual of buying and cooking enough food to feed an army on retreat beca
me more wearing each year, but somehow she still enjoyed it. As she pushed the cart down yet another aisle, she glanced over at her mother who was checking the shopping list once again. Edith Lawson was at her best scavenging for sumptuous fare for her guests. Her almost totally gray hair was done up in its usual upsweep, lending height to her petite figure. Somehow her physical presence belied her size, and Callie had seen her sweep aside much larger people, just by the force of her personality. It only took a glance to realize that Callie had inherited her arrestingly lovely features from her mother, especially the large, upturned eyes. People were constantly astounded by the close physical resemblance between them. Callie didn’t see it at all. She assumed that all those people were simply seeing what they wanted to see. To her, her mother was all that was beautiful, dainty, and feminine. As a younger girl, she’d desperately longed to be petite. She’d pretty much outgrown that feeling, but she still felt like a gangly behemoth next to her mother.

  Watching her mother toss another slab of ribs into the cart, Callie shook her head. “Mama, don’t you think we’ve got enough food here already? I mean, it seems that each year we buy more and more.”

  Edith Lawson nodded her elegant head. “Seems like each year we have more guests.”

  Callie hesitated. “Well, Mama, speaking of more guests…I’ve invited a friend of mine to the party, too. I hope you and Daddy won’t mind.”

  Edith paused in her perusal of pork roasts. “Mind? Honey, when have we ever had a problem with any of your friends coming to the house?”

  Callie leaned down, her head almost touching the handle on the cart. “Mama, he’s like, ah, he’s like a celebrity, you know, really famous.”

  “Famous? When did you ever leave that store long enough to meet anybody famous?” Or anyone at all, she thought to herself. Edith was proud of her daughter’s success, but concerned that since opening the store Callie had had little time for family and friends.

  Unwilling to resume that long-standing dispute, Callie clung determinedly to the subject at hand. “Actually, Mama, he came to the store. That’s where we met.”

  Edith raised her brows. “Really now. So what does the boy do?” she asked as she turned to walk toward the bread aisle.

  Callie followed her mother. “Well, m’dear, I guess you would say he’s a rock star.”

  Mrs. Lawson paused and gave her an arch look. “A rock star? What on earth is a rock star doing in Alabama?”

  Callie sighed and recounted Bryan’s story to her mother as she continued pushing the cart.

  Mrs. Lawson brought her up short when she mentioned the drug use. “Callie, why in the world are you hanging around with some drug-using low-life? Can you imagine what your daddy’s going to say? And what about Cynthia and Addie? You know we didn’t raise you like that.”

  “Mama, he’s not like that. He wasn’t the one that was strung out on drugs; it was his friend.”

  “Baby, you’ve seen those people on TV and God knows your sisters listen to enough about them and the horrible lives they lead. Jumping in and out of bed with just anybody, popping pills and whatnot like candy. We raised you to be a good Christian girl. They are not our kind of people. Those people are all about casual sex and drugs. You’ve seen it a thousand times.”

  Callie blew a long breath out between her teeth. Her mother could be incredibly exasperating at times. “Mama, it’s not like that with us. There’s nothing at all sexual between us. We’re just friends, nothing else, okay? Look, if it’s going to be a problem he doesn’t have to come to the house…”

  “I didn’t say all that, I just don’t understand why you’d want to hang out with somebody like that,” her mother interrupted.

  “Could you at least wait to meet him before you pass judgment, Mama? Isn’t that what you’ve always taught us?”

  Edith sighed, “Baby, you know this is for your own good.” Callie didn’t respond. “So exactly what is this young man’s interest in you?” Edith inquired. “Surely he knows that you’re not some type of, what do they call it, campie or something?” Despite her career as a librarian, Edith had a knack for mangling words,

  “Mama, it’s a groupie, and I’m sure Bryan knows that I’m not one. We’re just friends, hanging out until he goes back to California,” she replied flatly.

  Mrs. Lawson tilted her head to the side and gave her oldest child a disbelieving look. Sometimes the girl was incredibly naïve.

  “Humph. Callie, how many times do I have to tell you that men and women can never be ‘just friends’? That boy’s not coming to our house and meeting your folks because he wants to play patty-cake with you. As you say, I’ll wait until I meet him to make a judgment, but you know your daddy isn’t going to like this at all. I assume this young man is white?”

  Callie wiped her damp palms on her jeans as she nodded. “I know Daddy’s not going to like it, but I’ve brought white guys to the house before.”

  “Yeah, Callie, but they were just high school buddies. Y’all were just hanging out in a group. This boy is a grown man and in a very shifty business.” She leaned toward Callie. “They say there’s a lot of Mafia involvement,” she whispered out the side of her mouth.

  Callie rolled her eyes. Why on earth was her mother whispering? Did she think John Gotti was lurking around the corner in a Lucky’s supermarket in downtown Maple Fork? Though she had major doubts about Bryan, Mafia involvement was not one of her concerns.

  However, she could agree that she’d never dated a white man before. Wait a minute, how did the word “date” get into this conversation? she asked herself. You’re just friends, remember?

  “I know that, Mama, but being in a shady business doesn’t necessarily mean he’s shady.” At least she hoped not. Edith Lawson didn’t respond, so Callie added, “At least I know Cynthia and Addie will be thrilled.” Callie grinned, thinking of her sisters’ reactions when Bryan showed up at their door. She had decided to let his arrival be a surprise to them, and she knew they would scream in ecstasy when he arrived. She just hoped that she would have enough self-control not to scream with them. After all, behavior that was cute for a pair of teenagers would not be at all attractive for a twenty-nine-year-old.

  Chapter 6

  Callie knelt on the kitchen floor, refilling the cooler with ice and soft drinks. People had begun arriving at the house at noon, and her parents had been up barbecuing since dawn. Fortunately, it was a nice warm day, especially for mid-November, and most of the guests were outside enjoying the unseasonable weather. They were beginning to wander back into the house as kickoff time approached, but at this moment Callie had only her own racing thoughts for company. Each time she contemplated Bryan’s impending arrival, she became lightheaded and had to remind herself to breathe. She couldn’t believe that she of all people was acting like an infatuated schoolgirl. It was discomfiting to say the least.

  She wondered what Bryan would think of her parents’ home. While the Lawsons lived comfortably on the income from Jesse Lawson’s retirement from the post office and her mother’s position as the local librarian, their modest split-level home undoubtedly paled in comparison to what Bryan was accustomed to. She shook her head in disgust at her own thoughts; Bryan hadn’t shown any signs of snobbishness, so why was she looking for things to worry about? She looked around the spacious kitchen. Her parents had recently redone most of the house, replacing furniture and fixtures that dated from the 1970s when the house was built. They’d given it a more contemporary look by refacing the dark cabinets with a lighter wood and painting the room a bright blue. The rest of the house had received a similar face-lift, and everything reflected Edith Lawson’s sophisticated taste.

  As Callie finished her task, she heard the signal she had been waiting for all day: the eardrum-piercing squeal from her sisters when their mystery guest arrived. When she had told them the previous evening that there would be a surprise guest, they’d speculated wildly, but hadn’t even come close to guessing their guest’s identity. She
could hear them in the living room literally jumping up and down with joy and excitement. Callie stood up, waiting breathlessly for her sisters to bring Bryan into the kitchen. She heard the girls gallop across the living room’s hardwood floor.

  The kitchen door swung open forcefully and Addie screeched, “Oh my God! Callie, you freaking rock!”

  Cynthia joined in. “I can’t believe it, Bryan Spencer at our house! Nobody is going to believe this! Wait until I tell the girls at school!”

  Callie gave her sister a stern look. She’d warned them the previous evening that they couldn’t disclose the identity of their mystery guest.

  “I know, I know, we can’t tell anybody about Bryan. Callie, you know we won’t do that!” Cynthia gave her older sister an abashed look.

  Callie shook her head at her two sisters. Unlike many twins, they actually enjoyed dressing alike and wore their micro-braided hair in identical ponytail styles. Their artfully faded jeans and matching school logo T-shirts emphasized their youth and trim bodies. They had their father’s complexion, a rich chocolate brown, and their skin was silky smooth and clear. They didn’t have the same sculpted features that Callie had inherited from their mother and despaired of ever growing into. Instead, their faces were more oval in shape with delicately rounded chins and upturned noses. They were, however, tall like their sister but small-boned like their mother. They were lovely in that fresh way that only teenage girls are, possessing none of the gawkishness that typically plagued their contemporaries. Both were varsity cheerleaders and boasted a self-confidence that Callie wished she had had at their age.

  Bryan stood in the doorway between the girls, each arm held tightly in their grasp as they continued their joyous monologues. He smiled diffidently at Callie, happy to see her out of her usual business attire. Today she was wearing a pair of faded jeans that lovingly followed every curve in a way that his hands itched to emulate, and a loose-fitting sweatshirt with her school logo on it. Her locs weren’t pulled back today and hung well past her shoulders. They only heightened the earthy sexiness that he had found irresistible from the very beginning. Though he had avoided just this type of scene in the past, he was willing to endure any hardship to see her as often as possible.