Groupie/Rock Star Bundle (19 page)

He grew quiet and held onto me as he pressed
on. “I never really thought she’d die. Maybe I just didn’t want her
to. She was all the family I had left.” He kind of shrugged. “Three
months later I found Yael by responding to an ad in the paper, and
the rest, as they say, is history. Music gave me a new family I
guess.”

“I’m glad you had music,” I said. I knew how it
felt to be alone in the world, having one last relative to call my
own.

“It’s the only thing that’s left. It can’t
leave you. It can’t die. It will be as true to you as you are to
it.”

He glanced up at me and I gently
brushed the hair from his face. My heart broke for the little kid
who had been tossed aside like so much garbage by his
father.

“Think your dad will ever come find you now
that you’re famous?”

He laughed. “I don’t know how famous I am. But
I don’t care if he does. He made his choices.” The hardness in his
voice broke my heart. “What about you?” he asked. “Is there grandma
and no one else?”

I nodded. “From very early on, actually. Truth
is I don’t remember my parents at all.”

He rose up on one elbow and waited.
I pulled a photo album from my night stand and handed it to him.
Even after all this time I couldn’t say the words outright, even
though by now the memories seemed like they belonged to another
person entirely.

He opened the album and read through the
clippings yellowing against the sticky pages. All I saw was the
black and white photo of the burned out house, a visual that had
been tattooed on my brain for a lifetime.

“Where were you when this happened?” he
asked.

“I had a most fortuitous case of pneumonia. I
must have been three or four, I guess. Anyway, Grandma took me in
and raised me.”

He took my hand in his. “Then I have a lot to
thank her for,” he said, then pulled me into his arms and held me
close the rest of the night.

The next morning I served him
breakfast in bed with a candle stuck in his stack of chocolate chip
pancakes. He blew out the candle but protested he already got his
wish. We fed each other, which turned out to be quite messy with
the syrup. Vanni insisted we not use napkins to clean up the
drippings, but rather our own mouths. This became so erotic it
actually led into the first birthday celebration of the
day.

I pulled the other gift out from under my bed.
I had purchased and wrapped it at least a week before he arrived. I
was surprised Simon had not discovered it and mangled it to pieces,
which definitely would have put a damper on the moment. Vanni
grinned like a little kid as he ripped through the paper and opened
the flat package.

It was a leather-bound journal
engraved with his name on the cover. “From Thoughts to Music,” I
had included in the inscription. He pulled me close for a long hug.
He was overcome when he thanked me.

“The first one’s for you,” he
promised.

He insisted we go to the store to purchase
flowers for my grandmother, and then at his insistence we stopped
by my parents’ gravesite to leave pretty, fresh flowers over the
frostbitten graves. I didn’t make it a point to come here, much
like my grandmother did, and I had never brought anyone here – not
even Iris. But Vanni insisted. He said that paying his respects to
his beloved great aunt on a regular basis reminded him of the good
times, so she never seemed far away. And this particular Christmas
he wanted us to connect the past to the present.

It made the occasion all the more
monumental, and I was overcome with emotion. I dropped my head into
my hands and sobbed quietly, and Vanni took me into his arms and
rocked me quietly as he held me close. There were tears in his own
eyes as he rested his forehead against mine.

We were two orphans who had somehow
found each other, who understood our secret pain on a level that so
many others did not.

Neither of us spoke about it on the
ride out to my Grandmother’s, who lived on the opposite edge of
town.

Lydia Foster may have only been 4’10 (she
claimed she was shrinking in her old age, but she had always been a
pixie) but her wiry frame and agile mind would convince anyone that
the old adage is true: dynamite comes in small packages. She
weighed probably 90 pounds but her spine was ramrod straight, and
her eyes were still the clearest blue.

Even at 67 she actively participated
in her community, especially church. She gardened and then sold her
own vegetables as a means to supplement her income. They had
finally forced her to retire from her career driving the school bus
for the rural areas around Nashville after she failed her last eye
exam. As a result she traded her car in for a good pair of walking
shoes and kept herself active by walking anywhere she needed to
go.

The minute we walked in the door and I smelled
the glorious aroma coming from her kitchen I knew that she had
cooked enough to feed an army. She had it all: fried chicken,
mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, okra, biscuits and her special
recipe red velvet cake to celebrate his birthday.

Even though he towered over her she reached up
and gave him a monstrous bear hug and welcomed her into her home
like she would have welcomed anyone. Lydia knew no strangers. She
oohed and awed over the beautiful flowers he brought, and sent me a
wink that if I didn’t snatch him up she sure would.

He laughed and followed her into her
comfortable and tidy, though small, living room.

If I learned how to live on meager practical
means it was through Grandma. She taught me the value of saving my
money, getting the most out of what you buy and paying for value.
That was why I could own three pairs of really nice pants, rather
than an entire closet full of discount clothes.

She perched on the edge of her Queen Anne chair
and proceeded to drill Vanni about everything short of his social
security number and shoe size. After his old school Catholic great
aunt, my little southern Baptist grandmother probably didn’t
intimidate him much. He answered each question with the same
confidence and poise he demonstrated in front of a
microphone.

“And what are your thoughts on
family?” she asked as she peered over her glasses at
him.

“I think that you should put family first.
There should be no other priorities. That’s why I don’t plan to
really settle down until I can give a wife and kids the attention
they deserve. Right now my life is too busy and chaotic to even
think about serious relationships.”

She leaned back. It wasn’t necessarily the
answer she wanted but she couldn’t fault it either. “And what does
that mean for my granddaughter?”

He glanced at me and took my hand in his. “Your
granddaughter brings something to my life I need. I hope I can do
that for her too in some way, even if it’s not
traditional.”

This was not news to me, of course. It
reinforced the original ground rules when I got into this
relationship. All I could do was enjoy it for the moment and let
the future take care of itself, but I wasn’t sure my grandmother
would see things the same way.

“I still don’t understand why you can’t date in
public. I’d really like both of you to come to church on Christmas
Eve.”

“That’s for her benefit, Lydia,” he said, using
the name she had insisted he use. “Andy is the only real thing in
my life; I don’t want to see it get that complicated for her just
because I decided to get into show business. My life is crazy. As
my girlfriend she’d never have her own private life again. There
would be no going to church with you or anyone without being tailed
by the paparazzi. She wouldn’t even be able to go to the grocery
store without some gossip columnist trying to figure out what she
was doing and how our relationship was going. It’s not fair, but
that’s just the way it is. Relationships are hard enough without
adding all that to it.”

She nodded as she thoughtfully ingested what he
said. “I can’t say I understand it,” she said, “but I guess if
that’s good enough for Andy, it’s going to have to be good enough
for me. Now let’s go eat.”

Grandma kept Vanni in stitches, and vice versa,
throughout dinner where she stuffed him so full he could barely
shovel down a forkful or two of his cake. “It’s delicious,” he told
her graciously. “But what I really appreciate is your taking the
time to do this for me. I haven’t had a meal prepared for my
birthday in years. I had forgotten how much I missed
it.”

She was warmed by his praise, as
evidenced by the slight flush on her cheeks. My Vanni could charm
anyone, young or old.

She spent the remainder of the
evening showing him photo albums. There must be fine print
somewhere that parents and grandparents get to drag out these
embarrassing volumes whenever it would most humiliate the child in
question.

But he seemed to enjoy every minute of our time
at Grandma’s right up to where she began hiding her yawns behind
the back of her hand somewhere around 9:15 p.m.

He gave her a big hug that lifted
her off the ground before he left and she made sure she had his
address so she could send him special treats to “fatten him up” by
the next time she saw him. He kissed her cheek like they were
family, and my Grandma winked her approval my direction.

He was quiet and thoughtful on the
way back to my house. I wanted to ask what he was thinking but he
looked so serene I didn’t want to disturb his thoughts at
all.

Instead I drove us straight home,
where we shrugged out of our coats to start work on our
tree.

I had a small fireplace that he lit for us, and
I played a radio station featuring Christmas carols. We sang as we
strung the lights and then traded places hanging the ornaments.
When it was done he dimmed my overhead lights and plugged in the
tree, which twinkled with tiny white lights in the corner of my
living room.

He took my hand in his and pulled me
close so we could dance together to the music. He stroked my back
with his fingers, and had the other arm around my waist. He glanced
down at me for a moment and then bent for a tentative, slow,
open-mouthed kiss.

I melted against him and wound my arms around
his neck to press even closer. We swayed back and forth as we
kissed tenderly, lovingly. Then, with his arm around my waist, he
gradually pulled us both to the floor. I had a blanket folded on a
chair by the tree, which he grabbed and laid under us.

He leaned me back against the blanket, his
hands in my hair, his whispers dancing on my skin. Every time he
called my name my flesh quivered as if it knew to whom it
belonged.

With each kiss, each caress, another
article of clothing was carefully discarded. Once we were both
naked he poised himself over me.

“Let me go grab a condom,” I whispered as I
tried to scoot away but his weight pinned me down.

“Not tonight,” he replied as he pressed up
against me, his flesh strong and demanding. “Let me feel all of
you,” he said softly. “No more barriers.”

“But…” I started but he silenced me with a
kiss, or two… or three… while he stimulated me with his
body.

“You’re on the pill, right?” he
persisted as he stroked against me, driving me wild.

“Yes,” I answered in a
gasp.

“Then let me feel you,” he said again, with
movements to match the rhythm of his words. “Wet… warm… tight…
mine…”

Suddenly I was climaxing and all I could do was
cry out for him as he entered me bare for the first time. He rode
each wave with gasps and cries all his own. His movements grew more
urgent, and he kept whispering against my mouth words like, “I need
you,” and “I want you.”

It was what he said when he finally came inside
me that stopped my heart. I was barely able to whisper back, I love
you too.”

We woke up the next morning entangled on the
floor. Memories of the night before washed over me in a warm flood
of emotion as I watched him dream peacefully.

I was overcome by the love I felt for him. It
felt like it filled my heart and overflowed into my soul. How had
this happened? I wondered happily as I softly stroked my hand
through his hair. A year ago almost to the day I was licking my
wounds from what I thought had been his deceit. And now here he
was, sprawled on my floor, wrapped in my arms, my body wearing the
evidence of the love he had finally declared, though I’d never
asked him to.

My fingers trailed possessively over his body,
and even in his sleep his flesh responded to me. I kissed his
chest, which tasted salty against my tongue. I explored his body
slowly and liberally, until I wanted him so badly I
ached.

I straddled his hips and rubbed against him
with a gentle rocking motion, and then gently slipped him
inside.

He awoke to our lovemaking, which
was all it took for him to grab my hips and urge me on for long,
leisurely strokes that relished a slow building passion we took our
time to sate.

When it was over and I collapsed next to him in
his arms, he kissed me and told me that I was his new favorite
alarm clock. I giggled as I snuggled into the crook of his arm. We
had nowhere to go, nowhere to be, nothing to do but just be
together and love each other.