Despite Garrett’s many flaws, he always gave Peter credit for their song writing success. Peter appreciated it.
“That’s incredible for someone your age. You’ve written some amazing hits. How about Adam and Garrett? Do you have a specialty?”
“Adam is master on the guitar,” Peter offered. “His guitar licks are awesome, and he has a natural talent. Without him we would be a mediocre bar band.”
“And Garrett?” Andrea asked. She licked her puffed-up, gloss-covered lips as she eyed Garrett in a way that made Peter uncomfortable.
“I play bass guitar, drums and sax. In addition, I work on the business side of things too. We’ve been working a long time to make it big in the music industry. I make sure we stay on top of the trends and work to come up with ways to stay successful.”
Peter nodded in agreement. Garrett was annoying, yet effective.
“You are a group of talented young men, mature beyond your age.” She directed her comments straight to Garrett. He gave her a sly smile.
It was impossible not to mature quickly when you carried a multi-million dollar business on your back. The livelihood of dozens of people relied on their success. If a CD or tour flopped, their team would be out of work. They worked day and night to stay on top.
“We opened our email up to Jamieson fans to ask some questions. Here’s what some of your fans want to know,” Andrea said. “Who is bossiest?”
“Garrett!” Adam and Peter said at the same time.
“Hey, someone’s gotta tell you what to do,” Garrett said.
“Who has the most girlfriends?” she asked with interest.
“Garrett!” They answered again. Garrett shrugged his shoulders. He enjoyed the perks of playing in a band. Andrea smiled like a satisfied feline.
“Who is the morning person?”
“Adam,” Garrett answered. “He likes to take pictures of the sunrise.”
“Who in the group is a night owl?”
“Peter,” Garrett and Adam said.
“No I’m not,” Peter said.
“Dude, you’re always up late writing. We can hear you,” Adam said.
“Who is the leader of the group?”
“Peter,” the other two said in unison.
Peter wasn’t sure why that was. Taking the lead on stage seemed as natural as breathing. He felt connected to the crowd. His brothers were often awkward and stilted. Garrett made up for it by hitting on the girls and Adam was the grinning puppy they all loved.
“Who is the goof off?”
“Are you kidding? It’s all Adam,” Peter answered.
Adam shrugged, never a care in the world.
“Okay, who is the shyest?”
Garrett and Adam looked straight at Peter. No words necessary.
“Really, now that surprises me,” Andrea said. “You write the music, and lead the band, yet you’re the shy one?”
“I don’t know that I’m shy, but I keep to myself more than Garrett and Adam. They’re more outgoing. I like to spend time alone.”
“Aw, the brooding artist. No wonder your music is so successful.” she responded. “I think I know the answer to this next one. Who is the biggest ladies man?”
“Garrett,” Peter and Adam laughed.
Garrett raised an eyebrow suggestively at Andrea. She fanned herself with her papers.
“This last one is for each of you. What is your idea of the perfect girl?”
“I’d say it’s a girl who makes me laugh,” Adam smiled.
The camera moved to Peter.
“I’d like someone who is interested in me and not all the other crazy parts that come with success,” Peter said.
“I’m looking for a beautiful girl who wants to get out and party,” Garrett looked at her pointedly.
The camera refocused on Andrea. “There you have it girls. Now you know what it takes to attract one of these charming young men. Thank you for your time guys and have a great concert tonight. It’s sold out, but I’m one of the lucky ones who hold a backstage pass.” She looked at Garrett with silent meaning.
Peter was happy to see the interview end before Garrett embarrassed them all. The guy couldn’t keep it on the down low. He bet Libby would never act like the reporter.
Chapter 3
A few days later Libby sat on a giant outcropping of rock that reached out over the rushing creek. The warm September breeze blew gently through the trees and swept a leaf into the water below. Her eyes followed its progress. As it floated along, she pondered the events of the past week. Miss Orman had tried to cheer her up after Libby couldn’t support her story about Peter. It all seemed unreal. If she hadn’t experienced it herself, she wouldn’t believe it either. Famous people didn’t just appear out of nowhere, especially not in Rockville.
But Peter had appeared. And she did spend time with him. He was beautiful and perfect and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so happy. The best part was that he didn’t know about her life or that she lived with crazy Aunt Marge. Peter didn’t know that her dad’s grief was so strong, he brought Libby to Wisconsin and left her to live at his sister-in-law’s house before driving off into the depths of depression.
The sound of wind rushing through the trees increased. It sounded like the roar of the nearby highway. Libby lay on the large stone slab, her back warmed by the sun-heated rock. She gazed at the movement of the tree branches overhead as they bent and swayed in the wind. The leaves were a patchwork of green, yellow and orange. Fall was near and creating a beautiful scene. She wished she had a camera to capture it, or the talent to paint it. The breeze whispered on her cheek, the sun warmed her skin. Her thoughts returned to Peter and how wonderful her life would be if he were in it.
A shadow moved over her and blocked the sun. She jerked onto her elbows to discover the intrusion. People rarely came to this part of the preserve.
“Are you cutting class?” Peter stood before her, a broad smile on his face and the familiar hair falling in his eyes.
“Oh my God.” Libby popped up from her spot. “What are you doing here?”
She never thought she’d see him again. Hoped, yes, but not in her wildest dreams did she believe it could happen. She stared, her mouth agape. Was he real? Perhaps she’d lost her mind after all.
His t-shirt hugged him snug across the chest and shoulders, revealing strong arms. His jeans hung low, his thumbs looped in the top of his pockets. She looked at his handsome face. His eyes sparkled with mischief as the breeze tossed his hair.
“Mom really likes this spot, and now, so do I.” He grinned and a gorgeous dimple appeared. “We’re heading up to Minneapolis for some taping.”
“Guess it’s my lucky day,” she bubbled.
“Guess so.” With a devilish grin, he raised an eyebrow.
Imaginary gymnasts did flips in her stomach. She thought Peter would be a distant memory, like so many others she stashed safely away. Now here he stood, in the flesh. He couldn’t be more real.
“How much time have you got? She wiped her dusty hands on the back of her jeans then slid them into her back pockets. She stood a few feet away, hopeful he would stay forever. She wasn’t sure what to do.
“As long as we want,” Peter answered.
Her face beamed.
“Well, an hour, at the most,” he corrected, another cute smirk in the corner of his mouth.
“We better not waste time then.” They faced each other, a momentary pause and an instant of awkwardness. Libby refused to let this opportunity fail. She broke the silence. “Have you seen the rock formations at the back of the glen?”
“No, but I’d love to.”
His smile touched her heart.
“It’s this way.” She tilted her head toward the trail, and fought the urge to squeal with joy.
They followed the trail through the rocky ravine, the walls progressively greener with rich moss. Every so often water trickled down the sides, flowing into the stream they walked along. Peter moved
next to her in all his glorious beauty. She tried not to look at him too often.
“You never answered my question,” Peter said, stepping over a sharp rock.
“What was that?” Libby glanced up.
“Are you cutting school? It’s a Wednesday afternoon, and where I come from we go to school on Wednesdays.”
“No, it’s teacher in-service. We get a Wednesday afternoon off once a month, so the teachers can meet and talk about how horrible today’s youth is.” That’s about all they did too, lots of talking and not much action.
“You must be at the top of their list.” He grinned, and held his hand out to help her over the large rocks.
“You have no idea.” She placed her hand in his, reveling at his warmth in the cool ravine.
Gravel crunched beneath their feet as they made their way along the crooked path. Occasionally, he bumped her shoulder playfully with his, as if he wanted to make sure she was still there. Something about him fit. He didn’t ask too many questions or judge the things she told him. It had been a long time since someone accepted her.
“Tell me again, why your family comes here?” She wanted him to say it was so he could see her and then promise they would be here every day.
“They like this spot. It’s close to the interstate and we pass this way a lot when we’re traveling between Chicago and Minneapolis. Mom is always trying to make us feel normal and keep us grounded.” Peter jumped easily from one boulder to another, as though he’d climbed them his entire life.
“But you are normal.”
“Are you kidding? We’re far from it.” He gave her a look of disbelief.
“But, you’re together. You have a Mom and Dad and a big family that spends lots of time together.” To her they seemed like the most magical, perfect family, almost as good as hers had once been.
“We spend too much time together.” He ran his fingers through his long bangs pushing them out of the way. “I can’t tell you how often I wish I could ditch my family. I never get any privacy.”
“That is one thing I have a ton of.” She looked out at the creek as it rushed over age-old rocks. Her days were filled with solitude. Even at school, the kids stayed away. They knew her past was tragic and that made her different. She didn’t match their perfect picket fence lives, so they treated her like a pariah. She didn’t care though. It was better to be alone, than to explain her past.
But sometimes she wished someone special cared about her. It might be nice to have a friend to keep her from spending too much time alone, or to drag her into a game of Frisbee, or even someone to talk to about nothing at all.
Peter’s voice brought her out of her silent lament.
“I’d like to trade my little brother Adam for more privacy any day.”
Their eyes connected giving her another little jolt. She thought of her little sister. Libby would trade anything for one more day with her.
“I shouldn’t complain,” he continued. “But once in a while, it’d be nice not to have every minute of my life planned.”
“What do you mean?” She hopped from one large rock to the next.
He considered her carefully. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“Of course, I do.” Her backbone stiffened. She hated being talked down to, especially by Peter. He was not like everyone else, at least not in her eyes. She left his side and moved ahead. She jumped from rock to rock and crossed the stream to the other side.
“Don’t get all stuck up on me, but do you really understand what I do?”
“Yeah, you sing with your brothers. You travel around in your bus and perform. I’m not a total moron.” Why did he have to show his jerk side? Everything had been perfect.
“I didn’t say you were a moron, but, there’s a lot more to it than that.” Peter easily leapt over the rocks to reach her side. He held her arm to slow her down. The stream rushed by noisily, the raw smells of moss and ferns surrounded them.
“Okay, for example, we just came from New York where we were on Rock Hits Live.”
She stared blankly, arms crossed. She refused to admit her ignorance.
“You don’t know what that is?” He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s a live music interview show. Do you ever watch TV?” He asked in disbelief.
Libby huffed a sigh of irritation. “No. I haven’t laid eyes on a TV for over a year.” Other than Aunt Marge’s ancient set, which was permanently turned to the Home Shopping Network.
She didn’t know why she admitted even that small detail. She hated when people looked down on her unconventional life, especially since she had no control over it. She hated it even more from Peter. She refused to believe he was like the others.
“Really?” He responded.
She could see the unasked question behind his eyes.
“Okay, listen,” he said, determined to help her understand. “We just came out with our third CD.”
“Yeah, well anyone can make a CD. We have a media class where kids create them for extra credit.” Ahead an enormous boulder dominated the end of the trail; the creek poured out on each side. Libby climbed over the surrounding rocks, reached the top and sat. Peter followed.
“Your right, it’s not that hard to put together a CD. But we’ve got a major recording contract. We spent a month in the studio recording our latest music. We’re doing massive publicity for our new CD.”
The more he spoke, the more she noticed a serious side in him. This was his life, and his passion. Libby’s pulse quickened as she listened. It seemed even more impossible he’d be here talking to her.
“Everyday is filled with rehearsals, interviews, and appearances.”
“Really? That does sounds like a lot.” How foreign it was to her pithy little Rockville life. He had no idea how easy his life was.
“So between all that work and travel, it doesn’t leave much time to think, let alone relax.”
Peter’s concentration moved from Libby for a moment as he noticed their surroundings. They perched on the top of a huge boulder in the heart of the glen. Every inch of the steep rocky sides dripped with silky moss and ferns poked out their feathery fronds. The moist scent of the glen’s lush vegetation filled the air. A cool mist floated around them. It was Libby’s magic place.
“This is amazing.” Awe colored his voice.
“Yeah, it is. I’m glad you like it.” She leaned back on her hands and inhaled a deep breath of nature’s gift. “So, when are you done? When do you go home?” She ran her hands over the cool, gritty rock, afraid to hear the truth.
He flipped his mop of hair out of his face. “We get a couple days to go home here and there, but we’re booked solid for the next ten weeks. Then if everything falls into place, we might be going to Europe for a couple months.”
This amazing guy lived his life bigger than her wildest dreams. Maybe she could have thought about travel and making huge plans, but life had delivered a left hook and knocked her off her feet. Each time she tried to get up, another blow knocked her back down. So now she stopped trying to get back up. She was nothing, a nobody, a shell of her former self. She wrapped her arms around her knees and held tight.
“Now what’s that look for?” Confusion lit his eyes.
“Nothing. I just didn’t know you were such a big deal.” Her lips tightened into a thin line. “I must look awfully boring to you.” She wouldn’t meet his eye. Why was he wasting his time with her?
“I didn’t tell you all that to brag, but I figure you should know we’re not just another folk group singing on Sundays. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just not what we do.”
He leaned forward, caught her eye and refused to look away. “And you’re not boring; totally the opposite. It’s just that we’re always on the go, one rehearsal, taping or interview after another all day every day. We never stop. My dad and Garrett are always plotting and planning the next step of our career.” Peter rolled a small pebble between his thumb and forefinger mindlessly.
&n
bsp; “Don’t you like it?” She searched his eyes.
“Yes, I love it! Are you kidding?” He tossed the pebble to the water below. “I’m living my greatest fantasy. Everyday I wake up amazed all this is happening. But it gets exhausting, and I crave time to be alone and have privacy.”
He gazed into her eyes. “But times like this, where I’m doing what I want, like sitting with you.” He bumped shoulders with her again. “They’re the best.”
Libby bumped him back. “See not every minute of your day is planned.” He took her hand and gave it a warm squeeze. She rewarded him with a shy smile. “So what’s your favorite part of the band?” She loved to hear him talk, and wanted to know more about his life before he disappeared again.
“The best part is performing. I could sing on stage all night. There’s such a connection to the music and the audience. It’s total euphoria.”
They sat atop the giant rock engulfed in the misty cool beauty of the glen. Peter reached over and held her hand. They relaxed, content in each other’s company. Peter ran his thumb over her fingers. Suddenly he paused and turned her hand over.
“What’s this?” He asked, innocently enough.
“Nothing.” She snatched her hand away, embarrassed.
“No, give it back.” He reached out and pulled her hand back into his two and examined the violent bumps. “What are all these marks?”
Her face heated at his question. “It’s nothing.” She tried to brush it off, but dread crept in.
“It’s not nothing, it looks like cuts.” He held tight to her hand as he examined it. “You’re not a cutter are you?” He looked her straight in the eye.
“No! Now let go.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t release her. Libby’s happiness spiraled down, the joy of the day gone. Too often the kids at school snickered ‘cutter’ to her back, just loud enough that she’d hear.
“Well, what happened?”
She understood why he asked. She might ask the same thing. Peter’s expression was honest concern, nothing more.
“They’re scars. From a car accident.” She bit her lip, not wanting to reveal another word.
Rock and a Hard Place Page 3