Beyond the Song

by Carol Selick

  “It’s okay,” Pete said in a softer voice. “You didn’t screw anything up.”

  “Let’s go, guys! From the top! Time is money!” he said through the mic.

  The bass player put out his cigarette and the band started playing.

  When the song ended, Rose and I looked at each other. She had a big smile on her face. “This is it, Carol, and it’s gonna be a smash!”

  As the players were packing up, Rose walked over to the guitar player and waved to me. “Glad you could make the session and fill in for Billy,” she told him. “You were dynamite! This is my co-writer, Carol Marks. Can you believe this little girl came up with the idea for the song?” Rose said as she turned her head and winked at me, then walked over to talk to Pete at the mixing board.

  “Good song! I’m Eric.”

  “Thanks! You sounded great,” was all I managed to say. I felt a warmth coming from him. His aloof exterior was starting to melt. Did I read him wrong? He actually seems sweet.

  “Do you have a card? I might know some people looking for songs.”

  “I’ve been meaning to order some, but I can give you my number.” I sound so unprofessional. He probably thinks I’m an amateur.

  “Sure, write your number on the back of the music sheet. Here’s my card in case you need a guitar player. Do you live in the city?”

  “West 72nd.”

  “You’re practically in my neighborhood. I’m on West 87th.”

  I felt so high from the session I gave Eric a big smile. The conversation just flowed. We walked out the door together, still talking, and made our way uptown. It felt good to share the most important night of my career with him, even if he was a stranger. His intensity was subtle but palpable. He had to be a Scorpio: deep, sexy, and mysterious. One of those people that you could never totally know. There’d always be a secret buried deep in their psyche and that was part of the attraction. I didn’t know if my first impression was right but I knew I wanted to find out.

  As we walked, he took out a cigarette from a blue package and offered me one.

  “Smoke?”

  “I quit a few months ago, for my voice. What brand is that?”

  “They’re French, Gaulois.”

  “Wow! You’ve been to France?”

  “Yeah, I got a gig in Paris last summer with a jazz band.”

  “What was Paris like?”

  “Amazing, but it’s meant for lovers.”

  “I’d like to go someday. It looks so romantic!”

  “Have someone in mind?”

  Hmm, is he trying to find out if I’m with someone? “No, I’ve been concentrating on my music.”

  Before I knew it, we were at 72nd. I wanted to ask Eric up to my apartment but it was late and I’d sworn off one-night stands.

  “This was fun. Thanks for playing on my demo.”

  “Au revoir, ma chérie.”

  I was too revved up to sleep. I took out the pint of chocolate Haagen-Dazs that I kept in the freezer for emotional emergencies and dug in. My mother would never approve of me not using a bowl! I don’t need anyone’s approval! I’m an independent woman living on her own and loving it! The phone rang and I looked down at my watch. It was exactly midnight, officially Valentine’s Day. I hoped it wasn’t one of Joshua’s stoned-out phone calls begging me to go back to him. I hesitantly picked up the phone and was relieved to hear Nina’s voice on the other end.

  “How’d the recording session go?”

  “Incredible! The band nailed it, the singer was perfect, and the hunky guitar player walked uptown with me.”

  “That sounds like an added bonus.”

  We talked for a few minutes while Nina filled me in on grad school and told me about the crush she had on her sociology professor. I tried to persuade her not to do anything to jeopardize her degree. But Nina did what Nina wanted to do.

  As soon as I hung up, the phone rang again. “Okay, sleep with the guy, I don’t care!” I said.

  “Is that the way you answer the phone?” a deep voice asked, half chuckling. Oh my God, it’s Eric!

  “My face is turning bright red. I thought it was my girlfriend calling back.”

  “I thought about you all the way home, Carol. I know it’s short notice, but I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tomorrow night. You don’t think it’s too weird that it’s Valentine’s Day?”

  “Not if you don’t! I’d really dig that.”

  “Cool, I’ll call you back tomorrow and we can figure out where we’re going. Sleep tight!”

  Now I really wouldn’t be able to sleep. I dug my spoon into the last of the Haagen-Dazs and found some I Love Lucy reruns on TV. Cupid hadn’t forgotten me after all!

  32

  ERIC

  Don’t you want to run out in the night,

  With no destination in sight,

  Let out what you’re feeling, wrong or right?

  Bring out the animal tonight!

  Eric didn’t disappoint. True to his word, he called me the next day and told me he was taking me to a French restaurant on the Upper East Side. I had no idea how he managed to get reservations on such short notice, especially on Valentine’s Day, but I was too excited to ask. Just another part of his mysterious aura, I thought.

  The only fancy dress I owned came from the same West Village thrift shop where I’d bought my 1940s satin bathrobe. It was a sleeveless black cocktail dress with three levels of fringe that looked like something from the Roaring Twenties. Over it, I wore an unclaimed skunk fur coat my grandfather had given me from his dry-cleaning store. I dabbed some patchouli oil behind my ears to hide the faint scent of mothballs.

  Our reservation was for 8:00. When the phone rang at 7:45, I was afraid to answer it. For a split second, I thought, Maybe Eric is canceling and this is too good to be true.

  “Carol, I’m running a little late. I’ll get a cab and pick you up in front of your building in ten minutes.”

  “Okay.” Hmm, is this a pattern? He was almost late for the recording session too. I quickly put any doubt out of my mind. I didn’t want anything to ruin our evening.

  Ten minutes later, we were sitting in the backseat of the cab. Eric handed me a red rose.

  “This is for you. It would look pretty in your hair, behind your ear, like Billy Holiday.”

  All I could manage to say was “Thanks!” This is gonna be some night! I’m glad I followed my instincts and put in my diaphragm before I left.

  Rouche’s was an upscale French restaurant with white table cloths, French waiters, and entrees that I couldn’t pronounce and wouldn’t dare put catsup on. He’s sure trying to impress me! Thank god, I got over my phobia of eating in restaurants. I was relieved when Eric ordered the duck and not some way-out-there dish like frog legs. I ordered something I could recognize, lamb chops. They were good but would’ve tasted better with catsup.

  Between the expensive wine, the rich food, and the intense attraction I was feeling for Eric, I was more than a little high as we slid into the backseat of yet another cab and headed crosstown to my apartment. Eric’s hand on my leg was turning me on. I couldn’t wait to start peeling away his layers. Not just his clothing, but everything under his worldly musician facade. I wanted it all.

  We hurried up the stairs to my apartment, flung our coats on the living room couch, and headed straight for the bedroom. Eric unzipped the back of my dress and it fell to the floor. He looked surprised when he saw my bare breasts and began gently kissing my nipples. I was trying to keep it together long enough to unzip his pants and feel his hardness behind the zipper. Tonight, there was no time for foreplay—no candlelight, no incense, no mood music. We were both beyond turned on and I couldn’t wait to feel Eric inside me. Even though it was our first time, surprisingly there were no awkward moments. Everything just flowed. I worried that I coul
dn’t sleep with Eric next to me, but I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. I stayed in bed until noon, slipped into my satin bathrobe, and trying not to wake him, went into the kitchen to boil some water for instant coffee.

  A few minutes later Eric walked in wearing just his underwear with an obvious hard-on poking through.

  “I could make love to you all day, Carol, but we’ve got plenty more days for that,” he said as he hugged me from behind.

  “Want some coffee?” is all I managed to say.

  “Before that, I’d like to hear you sing. Play me something.”

  “Okay!” I said and walked over to the piano. My hands were shaking and I couldn’t look at him as he leaned on the piano in front of me and I started singing my favorite Carole King song, “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow.” As I began the second verse, I got the courage to look up at Eric. His eyes met mine and I melted. How could I not wonder if Eric would be here tomorrow? Although I’d sung it many times, this was the first time the song felt truly real.

  For the second time that morning, Eric put his arms around me. “Yes, I will,” he whispered in my ear. How I wanted to believe him!

  I led him to the kitchen and we sat down at the café table. “All I have is instant coffee and stale granola bars that I got from my gig at the health food store,” I said.

  “That’s cool. I’m still full from dinner. Do you have to work today?”

  “No, Fridays and Sundays are my days off.”

  “I’d like to show you my place. It’s small, but it works for me since I’m on the road a lot.”

  We took turns taking a shower. I wasn’t ready for a mutual rub-a-dub-dub. Besides, we might’ve gotten carried away and never left the apartment! I quickly dressed in my uniform of bell-bottoms and a cable knit sweater. Eric put on his dress clothes from the night before. He looked handsome and sophisticated in his black dress pants and fitted satiny grey shirt.

  I felt nervous as I walked up the four long flights to Eric’s studio. “Wow! You have a lot of guitars!” I exclaimed as I entered, almost tripping over a speaker wire. The place looked like a music store. Four guitar cases were lined up, almost blocking the bathroom door, and amps, mic stands, and other music equipment leaned against every available surface. Looks like we’ll be spending most of our time at my place, I thought with a sense of relief. I felt more comfortable in my own bed and didn’t want to deal with any ghosts of Eric’s ex-girlfriends that might be hanging around. I still had a ghost of my own to deal with, and his name was Joshua. I’d have to put an end to that!

  Eric was more than happy to hang out at my apartment. We were lost in our cozy winter world. Some days we never bothered to get out of bed. In between lovemaking we ate take-out Chinese food in bed, smoked joints in bed, and when we got the munchies, fed each other Mallomar cookies in bed. Eric accepted me totally. He even loved patting my stomach, which was getting bigger from all the lying around and eating we were doing. I was hoping sex would help burn off some calories. Eric wasn’t gaining weight, but I had to admit, I let him do the heavy lifting. I’d cooled it with the acrobatic Kama Sutra positions and was happy to receive whatever he was giving.

  And did he have a lot to give! Just like in the I Ching, he was the first hexagram—The Creative, six straight lines meaning creative power and energy. I was the second hexagram—The Receptive, six broken lines meaning receptivity and openness. Direct opposites, we complemented each other perfectly, my yin to his yang—and he had some yang!

  The next time we went out, we went to one of Eric’s gigs. He was playing with a country band at an Irish bar on Second Avenue, filling in for their guitar player who had the flu. Country music wasn’t my thing, but I couldn’t wait to see him perform. Paddy’s was small, smoky, and loud. Eric and I walked toward the cramped stage and he introduced me to the drummer as he was setting up.

  “You can sit with my girlfriend Mary.” He pointed to a fake blonde with ratted-up hair sitting at a table right in front of the stage. As I reluctantly made my way to the table, I glanced up at the clock above the bar. It was 8:15 and the band didn’t go on until 9:00. Damn, I wish we hadn’t got here so early. I don’t feel like socializing. Two more musicians’ chicks sat down at our table. Short skirts, long hair, thick make-up, false eyelashes, typical mall chicks. As soon as I heard them talking, I ruled out Jersey and guessed they were from Long Island. Turned out they were from Staten Island and seemed very happy to spend their Saturday nights together, gossiping, drinking, smoking, and having a good old time. They proudly sat at the girlfriends’ table and seemed to enjoy their “I’m with the band,” status. They staked their claim to the men on stage and at the end of the night even helped carry some of the equipment.

  “Who’s that hunky guitar player?” the chick who’d walked in with the bass player asked Mary.

  “That hunky guitar player is my boyfriend!” I answered a little too loudly.

  “Just asking,” she said.

  We introduced ourselves: I’d already met Mary the drummer’s girlfriend, and now loudmouthed Noreen, the bass player’s, and Susie, a Joni Mitchell look-a-like who was with the rhythm guitarist. As they drank their beers and smoked their cigarettes, I felt increasingly uncomfortable.

  I sipped my coke and blew Eric a kiss as he put on his guitar and walked on stage. I was proud to be with him and even prouder when he launched into his first solo. He was a mesmerizing guitar player and looked so sexy on stage that I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Neither could most of the other women I noticed when I finally managed to look around the room. Uh oh. Am I gonna have to keep tabs on him? There was no way I was going to all his gigs. Being a groupie waiting for her man’s next twenty-minute break was not how I envisioned myself. I envisioned myself on stage. That’s where I belonged, not sitting at the girlfriends’ table with a bunch of adoring groupies. But tonight was not the night to bring that up. I was there to support him, and not waste my energy trying to fit in with the band’s girlfriends.

  “Thanks for turning me on to country music. You sound amazing!” I shouted over the crowd as Eric and I walked outside to get some fresh air during his break.

  “It’s okay. Not my favorite, but the band’s pretty good and they’re not too much into that twangy stuff. They have a big following.”

  “Yeah, at least it’s high energy! But I can’t wait until we’re together tonight.”

  “I know babe. It’ll go fast.” Yeah, for you, I thought. Before I could say anything, Eric walked me back into the club, kissed me, and disappeared into the crowd. Three cokes and two breaks later, he said goodbye to the band, counted his money, and sprung for a cab back to my place. Both of us were too exhausted to do more than throw our clothes on the floor, brush our teeth, and plop into bed. Besides, there was always morning sex to look forward to!

  A week later, Nina managed to break through my self-imposed lover’s exile on Saturday night with a perfectly timed phone call. Eric had a gig with some up-and-coming country-rock band, and I’d told him I was tired after a long day at the health food store. I did worry about some girl coming on to him, but he assured me he was not the cheating kind and I believed him. Serial monogamy, one lover at a time, was his thing, and I was hoping I’d be the last installment!

  “Where have you disappeared to?” Nina asked.

  “I’m in love. Eric’s wonderful. I think he’s the one.”

  “You sound like you’re in La-La Land.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “You’ve only known him a month. Slow down, Sister!”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Famous last words.”

  “No. This time is different. I’ve been in therapy and I’m not that trusting girl anymore.”

  “We’ll see. Where’s Eric tonight?”

  “He has a gig.”

  “How come you didn’t go?”

/>   “I worked all day at the health food store. Besides, I don’t want to be a clingy musician’s chick.”

  “I agree. What’s happening with your song?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from Rose.”

  “Are you sure? You haven’t been picking up the phone.”

  “You’re right. I better call her.”

  “Don’t let yourself get swept up by a man and forget everything else.”

  “Okay, enough about me, what’s happening with your professor? Did you sleep with him?”

  “No. He was giving me mixed signals. Besides, I don’t want to take any chances of screwing up my degree.”

  “That’s smart! I guess we’re both growing up!”

  “Hopefully!”

  We hung up and I sat thinking for a minute. Nina had my best interest at heart. She’d seen me go off the deep end for love before. I was impressed with her decision not to sleep with her professor. She didn’t want to jeopardize her career, and she was warning me not to do it either.

  I picked up the phone and dialed Rose.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling. I was starting to get worried!” Rose said.

  “I’m sorry. I’m in love! Remember the guitar player at our session? It’s him! He’s the best!”

  “What you say? That’s great news, girl! I have good news too, that’s why I’ve been calling. I got us an appointment a week from Friday at Sky Publishers. Meet me at my office at 1:30. They want to hear our song. It came out great!”

  I was stunned. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening! “I’m so excited! I’ll be there! Thanks, Rose!”