Rock Star

by Roslyn Hardy Holcomb

  “I wanted to tell you that I know that what they said about you and that boy isn’t true. I saw the two of you coming in and out my restaurant for months, and I’ve been around long enough to know true love when I see it. I had that for nearly forty years with my husband.” She took a deep breath, plainly still mourning a man who had been dead for nearly ten years. “You don’t see it too often these days. Most of these young folks don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground!” She put her hands on her hips. “But you two have it and better not nobody come in my place and say otherwise.” She nodded towards the front of the store, where the reporters could be seen through the window. “One of those flea-bitten dogs had the nerve to come in my restaurant today. I told him we don’t serve animals, to get out of my place.”

  Despite her misery, Callie’s mouth curved in amusement. Earlier that day, one of the reporters had decided to go to the bakery down the street for doughnuts and coffee. Mrs. Reynolds, who owned the bakery, had chased the poor man out of her store. Brandishing a baguette like a billy club, she’d pursued him all the way back down the street. Callie blinked rapidly as the tears suddenly welled up in her eyes; she hadn’t expected this outpouring of support. Damn! She cried so easily these days! She gave Granny a quick hug. “Thank you so much, Granny, I really appreciate it.”

  Granny returned the embrace and gave Callie a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Don’t let all this get you down, baby. It’ll be over soon, and these numbskulls will go and harass somebody else. You stay strong now, you hear?”

  Callie smiled and gave Granny a quick nod. “Yes, ma’am, Granny, I hear.”

  * * *

  From her position near the greeting cards fixture, Tonya watched the interaction between Callie and Granny. She was grateful that so many people had shown their support for her friend. Callie had always maintained a low profile, never wanting any attention at all. She’d spent her life cultivating a good image and was well-known as a decent girl. For her to suddenly be inundated with this type of publicity was incredibly unfair. After Callie’s breakdown on Thursday, she’d returned from her parents’ home on Friday morning at seven o’clock ready to go to work. Though she’d looked tired and worn, she’d worked through the past two days with an energy that was only belied by the emptiness in her eyes. Callie was hurting. Those who cared about her knew she was keeping it together by sheer force of will. She had often joked that her mother was a “steel magnolia,” but it was evident that she too possessed a will of iron. Tonya admired her friend, but was worried for her too. She heard the sobs through Callie’s bedroom door each night, and could tell that she was getting little sleep and that the coffee she drank constantly was all that was keeping her going. When they were in their apartment, Callie carried Bartholomew with her everywhere and slept with him each night. This could not continue. The girl was wasting away right before her very eyes.

  With Callie’s full knowledge, Tonya had talked to Bryan several times per day since the story broke. She would not go behind her friend’s back, even though she felt that the situation would only be resolved by Callie talking to Bryan. But her stubborn friend wouldn’t relent. Bryan and Callie were in equally bad shape, though Callie seemed to be handling it better. She couldn’t believe that Bryan managed to go on stage and perform each night, when as best she could tell, the man could barely maintain a coherent thought. He began every conversation inquiring about Callie’s well being, and then he would just repeatedly ask her to tell Callie he loved her. Tonya had agreed to pass on the message, and had done so, but Callie had responded with only a blank stare. Tonya could tell that neither was sleeping much, and both were exhausted and numb with hurt and despair. Callie insisted on the separation, even though they both desperately needed to be together.

  Tonya had a sneaking suspicion that Callie intended to continue ignoring Bryan until he simply gave up and stopped calling. She shook her head. Evidently the girl didn’t have a clue as to the type of man she was dealing with. It hadn’t taken her very long to realize that Bryan intended to hold onto Callie regardless of what her intentions were. To a man like Bryan, her refusal was immaterial. He would go away only if he knew for sure that Callie didn’t want him, and no one who had ever seen them together would ever believe that. Though normally she would stand behind whatever decision Callie made, given their pitiful state, Tonya appreciated Bryan’s obstinacy. He had called her earlier in the day and told her that they had a plan in the works to resolve this mess, and that the reporters would be gone by the end of the day. He’d also told her that the band would be performing on Saturday Night Live that weekend. Tonya was going to make sure that Callie watched it. Maybe seeing Bryan again would force her to come to her senses. She was relieved to hear that their media siege would soon end, but she just hoped that whatever they had planned for Saturday night wouldn’t spark it again. Callie’s nerves were pretty much stretched to the limit. If she had to endure much more of this insanity, those reporters would really have something to talk about.

  * * *

  Callie lowered her head as her father said grace. This command performance for Sunday dinner at her parents’ home was not what she had planned for this evening. After the hellish week she had been more inclined to crash and burn in the privacy of her own apartment. However, her mother had warned her that as soon as her father returned from his hunting trip he’d want to see her. Given his misgivings about her having a relationship of any type with Bryan, she knew this meal would be anything but pleasant. She just hoped that he would wait until after dinner to upbraid her.

  Hoping for the best, Callie asked her father about his hunting trip, and they exchanged general pleasantries. The roast chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy and green beans were delicious, and though Callie had little appetite, she enjoyed the comfort food. Addie and Cynthia did their best to help and talked animatedly about everything they could think of. They related anecdotes about school and cheerleading, and relayed gossip about various classmates and even a few teachers. Callie was grateful for their ability to fill the awkward silences with incessant chatter. Her brain whirring with confusion, she contributed little to the conversation. Then just when she thought they’d get through the meal without any fireworks, Jesse looked at her pointedly and asked about the tabloid story.

  Resigned to her fate, Callie responded with a cheerful optimism she didn’t feel, “Daddy, I don’t think it’s going to be a big deal. The reporters seem to have left yesterday, and I haven’t seen anything else about it on the news,” Callie answered, hoping against hope that he’d be satisfied with her answer and leave the matter alone. But of course this was only the first salvo of what was bound to be a long drawn-out disputation.

  “Yeah, Daddy,” Cynthia piped up, “the reporters probably left to cover Lainie Ellison’s disappearance. You know that girl on the TV show High School Blues. They say she was probably kidnapped for ransom. Her daddy’s the richest producer in Hollywood. He developed the show just for her. It’s been on the news since yesterday evening. Everybody’s talking about it.” Despite their youth, Callie’s sisters understood the pressure she was under and made an effort to help with diversionary tactics.

  Jesse ignored Cynthia’s comment and stared down the table at Callie. “Do you really think people are going to forget that horrible story, not to mention seeing naked pictures…?” he asked incredulously.

  “That wasn’t me!” Callie interrupted, “Daddy, you know I’d never allow those kinds of pictures!” Callie felt the heat rise in her face. Though she knew the photos were fake, everyone else would assume they were seeing her nude body.

  Jesse took a deep breath. “I know it wasn’t you, but everybody else thinks it was,” he replied in a calmer tone.

  “No, everybody doesn’t, Daddy. The people who know me, they know better. Folks all over town are telling me…”

  “That’s the point,” he bellowed. “Everybody doesn’t know you! I can’t believe you’re trying to play this whole t
hing off like it’s some type of joke. Seems to me that you’re just making excuses so you can go on seeing that boy. Just like always, another white man had his fun, and the black woman is branded a whore while he moves on and finds himself one of his own kind to marry! Didn’t I tell you better?”

  Callie’s lowered her head as the tears ran silently down her cheeks. “I’m not seeing him anymore,” she murmured softly.

  “What?”

  Calllie raised her voice, though still barely above a whisper. “I said, I’m not seeing him anymore. The relationship is over.” Through her veil of tears Callie could see the hurt and pain masked with anger in her father’s eyes. She couldn’t help recalling other times in her life when she’d seen similar emotions reflected in their obsidian depths. When she was five, he’d been teaching her to ride a bicycle and she’d somehow gotten away from him. An oncoming car had caused her to brake suddenly and she’d fallen off the bicycle and broken her arm. When her father caught up with her, he’d blustered in anger and yelled at her for riding away, even though she could see tears shimmering in his eyes as he inspected the damage she’d done to her arm. When she was in high school, he’d remonstrated against her accepting a date with Timothy Little, the object of her eleventh-grade crush. Of course, she’d impulsively agreed to go out with him and had been devastated when he stood her up. Her father had raged for days and reminded her that he’d told her that Timothy’s folks were no account, and that Timothy was no good. Then as now, she could see her own pain mirrored in his eyes, but he’d never admit it. Covering his concern with anger was simply the way her father coped, and over the years they’d all learned to understand and accept it, at least most of the time.

  “Well, hell, the damage is done now, isn’t it?” he snapped. “Everybody thinks my daughter is a whore. Did you think about how your mother and I feel? How about your sisters. Don’t you think they’re going to be teased at school?” Jesse exclaimed belligerently.

  Cynthia and Addie gasped and whirled in unison to challenge Jesse’s statement, but they were quelled by a sharp glance from their mother.

  Edith Lawson had had enough. “Jesse, can’t you see the girl is upset? Do you really think you’re helping the situation any?”

  Jesse wasn’t ready to back down. “Edith, I can’t believe you’re questioning me on this. Didn’t you tell me that Sheriff Graham Cracker himself came by to question Callie about running a prostitution ring?” Jesse blustered, using yet another one of the sheriff’s derogatory monikers. “God only knows what’s going on with that boy, and they’ve dragged your daughter’s name through the mud and you’re yelling at me?” His jaw tightening in consternation, Jesse stared at his wife as if she’d suddenly become deranged.

  “Jesse, I didn’t raise my voice once. You know nobody takes that so-called sheriff seriously. He only came by for political purposes. Anybody with any sense knows nobody would run a prostitution ring out of this town. Now, I understand you’re upset, but Callie is a grown woman and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. I agree that this is a terrible thing, but neither of them is at fault here,” she responded in a reasoning, conciliatory tone. “Callie is going through a tough time, and she needs all our support.”

  “It most certainly is his fault,” Jessie replied insistently. “He promised he’d take care of our child, and this is what happened. But you’re on his side anyway. All he had to do was play nice during Christmas dinner and buy her some books and you suddenly think he’s the best thing since sliced bread,” he continued, annoyed that anyone would question his support for his oldest child. “And did I ever say I didn’t support her? Did I? I just didn’t want the girl branded a white man’s whore in front of the whole country. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Jesse, she said she’s not seeing him anymore. Isn’t that enough?”

  Callie tilted her head back against the chair and rubbed her hands over her eyes, trying to stop the flood of tears. It seemed that she’d spent the past few days doing nothing but crying. Things had always come so easily for her. She’d never really had any serious upsets to cry about before now, but apparently now she was going to get a lifetime’s worth of misery in one fell swoop. Nobody seemed to understand that she loved Bryan and her heart was breaking in two. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Her father seemed to be so fixated on getting his “I told you so” in that apparently her feelings didn’t matter. The throbbing in her head still hadn’t eased up, and her misery increased with each word her father spoke. Finally, she had to speak up or drown under the weight of her despondency.

  “Daddy, I made a mistake. I should’ve listened to you. You’re right. Are you happy now? I messed up, and I dragged the whole family through the mud. All right? You have your pound of flesh,” she whispered hoarsely. It took everything she had to keep from screaming out her anguish. “Can we leave it alone now? I’m really tired, and I simply can’t take this.” Shaking so hard she could barely stand, Callie moved away from the table. She nodded toward her mother. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I embarrassed you, I didn’t mean to,” she whispered. She coughed as her throat tightened. This was too much. “Mama, I’m sorry, I know I’m being rude, but may I be excused? I’m going home.” With that she moved slowly towards the front door, without waiting for her mother’s response. The rest of the family sat in stunned silence until they heard the door close quietly behind her.

  Jesse sighed as Edith, Addie, and Cynthia gave him disapproving looks. Being the sole male in a house full of women could be heaven or it could be hell. He’d screwed up on an unprecedented scale and wondered how long hell would last this time. His women could turn this house into a fortress and shut him out for weeks, barely speaking to him. All the little niceties he had grown accustomed to, like the girls bringing him his slippers or keeping dinner warm for him, would disappear in a flash, leaving him to fend for himself. After so many years of pampering, it was an impossible adjustment to make. They had him on tenterhooks, and they knew it.

  Even Addie, who’d always been a “daddy’s girl” was looking at him as if he’d just kicked a kitten. Well, he had to admit, in a way he had. He’d never seen Callie look so wretched, and he should’ve left the situation alone. But it still angered him that she’d allowed herself to be used that way, even after he’d warned her of the probable consequences. Feeling impotent to do anything about his child’s pain, he’d done the boneheaded thing and struck out in anger. He sighed to himself. Easy enough to figure that out now, but why hadn’t he realized that before he attacked her that way?

  He stood up, moving towards the closet to get his jacket. “I’m going to apologize to Callie. I really put my foot in it.”

  Addie gave him a wide-eyed stare, her luminous brown eyes deep pools of concern. “You want me to go with you, Daddy?” she asked, afraid that he would lose his temper again. She couldn’t believe that her precious daddy had been so mean to Callie. Since the story came out, their telephone had rung incessantly with friends calling to get the scoop. There was bound to be vicious gossip in school, but she and Cynthia knew that Bryan and Callie were in love, and they stood firmly behind their big sister.

  Jesse tugged gently at one of her braids. “Nope, that’s quite all right, little doll. I’ve eaten crow before. I know just how to season it.”

  Chapter 19

  “Damn, dude, you look like something Dr. Frankenstein wouldn’t dig up. What the hell happened to you?” Harley Joseph stood in the doorway of his dressing room. He narrowed his piercing green eyes and peered into Bryan’s reddened pupils. Then he looked hurriedly past Bryan to Jon. “Jesus Christ, man! Is he using?”

  Bryan punched him in the shoulder. “Damn, man, I’m not dead yet! You don’t have to act like I’m not here.” His body shuddered as he was assaulted by another racking cough. “And no, I’m not using. What the hell made you ask such a thing?”

  Harley gave him a speaking glance. “Obviously you haven’t looked in a mirror lately. Here, man, sit down bef
ore you fall down. These cheap bastards would probably make me clean up the mess if you dropped dead in my dressing room.” He pulled out a chair from the table. Accustomed to the lavish spending typical for a hit television show, Harley had not yet adapted to the shoestring budget of a long-standing production like Saturday Night Live.

  Bryan sat down gratefully as he was seized by yet another coughing attack.

  Harley looked up at Jon again. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be performing this weekend? This guy sounds like he needs to be in the hospital. I don’t want him to upstage me by dying in the middle of the show,” Harley added facetiously, only half in jest.

  Finding no other chairs available in the tiny space, Jon sat down on the table. “I think he’s just got a cold. He’ll be all right if he gets some rest. He hasn’t been sleeping since that crazy story came out.”

  Harley nodded. “Yeah man, that’s a mess there. What the hell happened? I know you haven’t had much long-term success with the ladies, but when did you start resorting to call girls? Last time I saw you, you and Chasdity had hooked up. Surely you didn’t blow that relationship up too?”