Heartstrings (13 page)

I had completely forgotten that I had one last shift before
my two week vacation was to start. I’ve been so wrapped up in Slade’s sudden
appearance in my life, in our surprise road trip, in the concert, that work had
totally escaped my mind.

“That is a very good point,” I tell him, climbing down off
his lap. “Thanks for the lift.”

“My pleasure,” he says, opening the door and hopping onto
the sidewalk. He offers his hands and lifts me out of the car. He slams the
door shut behind me and motions for Anders to get going. As the town car drives
away, my confusion deepens.

“That’s your ride,” I say hollowly.

“I thought I’d take you up on your offer to come in,” Slade
says, all but carrying me toward my front door.

“Oh...” I say, “Very well.”

We climb up the front steps to my door, and I fumble with
the keys. It’s a miracle I didn’t lose all of my earthly possessions in the
chaos of the evening. I push open the front door and stagger over the
threshold. As Slade closes the door behind us, I flip on the lights. My home is
the same as it’s always been, but with Slade standing there in the foyer,
everything seems suddenly new. Vibrant.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” he smiles, scanning my modest
abode with interested eyes.

“Be it ever so humble,” I say, shifting nervously from foot
to foot. Why am I so antsy about him being here? It’s not like I have anything
to hide from him. “Do you want some...I don’t know...I have peanut butter and
jelly, and not much else.”

“Some water would be great,” Slade says, smiling.

I turn toward the kitchen, leading him through my darkened
home. There’s a rock star in my starter house...I don’t quite know how to feel
about it. I flip on the kitchen light and come face to face with Gustav. He
does not look happy about the fact that I’ve left him alone all evening. I rush
to give him an affectionate scratch behind the ears.

“This is the man in my life,” I tell Slade. “Say hello to
Gustav.”

“Hello, Gustav,” the rock star says formally. Gustav looks
at Slade critically, aloof as ever.

“He’s picky,” I tell Slade.

“Just like his owner?” he asks.

“Exactly,” I say with a smile. I fetch two glasses and fill
them to the brim. The ice cold water feels amazing as it runs down my throat. I
didn’t realize it, but I must have been screaming along with the rest of the
crowd that whole time. I settle down at the kitchen table, and Slade sits
across from me. I can’t get over how surreal it is to have him in my home.

“Did everyone take care of you backstage?” he asks.

“Eddie was very welcoming,” I say.

“That’s good,” Slade smiles.

“Some of your other friends, however...” I start, not
exactly relishing the notion of talking about the band of harpies I met
backstage.

“What other friends?” Slade asks.

“A few young...well, not ladies...” I say reluctantly.

Slade groans, running a hand through his hair. “Oh,” he
says, “You met the girls.”

“I suppose I did,” I say, turning my water glass around in
my hands. “They were...special.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Slade says.

“So they’re...what...roadies?” I say sardonically.

“Not exactly,” Slade says, the ends of his mouth turning
into a scowl. “I’m sorry you ran into them.”

“I mean, you knew they’d be there, right?” I ask.

“They always are,” Slade says. “They sort of...tour with
us.”

“I see,” I say, trying to keep my temper level. I have no
right to be angry with Slade over this, do I? We’ve only known each other for a
couple of days, after all. I have no claim to him. But still, I can’t shake the
angry feeling that’s come over me. “How long have you been keeping women on
call like that?”

“On call?” Slade says, his eyes widening. “What do you
mean?”

“Well, they’re only on tour with you guys for one reason,
right?” I say, meeting his gaze. “I just think it’s sort of a shitty
arrangement, is all.”

“What’s shitty about it?” Slade asks, leaning forward on his
elbows. “We’re all consenting adults. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, my frustration boiling over,
“They’re basically concubines, Slade! You don’t see how that’s degrading to
women everywhere?”

“We’re not talking about women everywhere,” Slade says, his
tone hardening, “We’re talking about three specific women who choose to hang
around the band and offer certain...affections.”

“Affections?” I say, incredulously, “By which you mean blow
jobs, yes?”

“Why are you getting so upset about this?” Slade asks,
dumbfounded.

“I just can’t believe that you think that’s an acceptable
way to treat women,” I say, shaking my head, “How can you possibly think it’s
OK to keep someone around for nothing but a good fuck whenever you want it?”

“You’re overreacting to all of this,” Slade tells me. I can
see the muscles in his jaw tensing.

“Don’t tell me I’m overreacting,” I say.

There’s no stopping my temper now that it’s gotten out of
its cage. I brace myself against my own anger. “The three of them practically
cornered me backstage to tell me what was what. It’s like they’re brainwashed
or something. Sex drones. And you take advantage of that! Helena—that’s the one
that ‘belongs’ to you, right?—she thinks you’re a freaking god. You’re totally
using that girl, Slade. It’s totally uncool of you!”

“I’m not using anyone!” Slade cries, “Most of all not
Helena! You think I’ve laid a finger on her since I met you?”

“Have you?” I demand.

“Of course not!” Slade says, his teeth gritted. “I can’t
believe you’d think that.”

“How am I supposed to—”

“Let me be clear, Julia,” Slade says, “There are a lot of
things about my life that you’re going to hate. There are a lot of things I’ve
done that you’re going to think are vile and reprehensible and disgusting. I’ve
drunk myself into a stupor more times than I can count. I’ve trashed hotel
rooms and crashed cars and never batted an eye. I’ve slept with more women than
I can name...Hell, I probably never even learned a lot of their names to begin
with! Since I was eighteen, I’ve been living this life. It’s been nothing but
money, and women, and booze, and music this whole time. My band’s kept me sane,
and I like to think I haven’t done any lasting damage, but you and I have led
entire lives before we met each other. And if you’re going to begrudge me that,
then I think we should stop this whole thing before we even begin.”

“What whole thing?” I ask quietly.

“This,” he says, gesturing between the two of us. “I have no
idea what this is, but I know that it’s something, and I know I’d rather not
abandon it for no good reason. I’m sorry if the girls made you feel
uncomfortable, but don’t blame me! That’s not fair. I won’t judge you for what
you’ve done if you won’t judge me.”

“But I’ve never done anything!” I say.

“Well...” Slade says, “Then you’re just perfect and everyone
else is a shit head.”

We stare at each other across the table, at an impasse. I
can feel that this is the moment I either turn away and run, or else never
return unchanged. Am I willing to let this troubled, chaotic soul into my life?
This offensive, riotous, destructive presence who could very well tear my heart
out with his teeth and leave me bleeding in his wake? I look at him long and hard,
trying to read his mind. But his face is stony—he’s hiding behind that
much-practiced facade again. The distance between us tugs at my heart. I hate
it. I know that I couldn’t stand to force him away. No matter how scared I am,
it becomes clear that I really don’t have a choice in the matter. For better or
worse, I care about Slade Hale. God help me.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“I’m sorry too,” I say. “It was just...weird, is all.
Backstage I mean. I felt so protective of you. And I know that’s kind of crazy,
and that I really don’t have any right to, but...that’s how I felt.”

“I promise Julia,” Slade says, “Nothing’s gone on between us
since the hospital.”

“Does she know that?” I ask dryly.

“She will now, if she didn’t already,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“It’s not just anyone that’s allowed backstage,” Slade says,
“I’ve never invited anyone back, besides you. And I’ve certainly never blown
off an after party to go play with someone’s cat.”

“Watch those double entendres,” I tell him.

He laughs. “I was referring to Gustav. It’s not my fault
your mind is in the gutter.”

“Fair enough,” I say, “Though you can’t blame me for being a
little one track minded right now.”

“Not a bit,” he says. “Jesus, it’s probably three by now.
Don’t you need to be getting to bed?”

“Yeah,” I say, “I certainly do.”

“OK,” he says, “Do you want me to call Anders and get out of
your hair?”

“No,” I say, “Could you...I mean, I do actually have to
sleep, but you can stay. If you want.”

“I could use some rest myself,” he says.

I push myself up from the table and beckon him to follow me.
I climb the stairs, well aware of Slade’s eyes fixed squarely upon my ass. “I
don’t think I’ve had a sleepover since I was thirteen,” I say, “I might be out
of practice.”

“I promise to keep my hands to myself,” he says, “Well,
mostly.”

With a smile, I push open my bedroom door and step inside.
Despite the release Slade granted me in the back of the town car, my body is
still sparkling with desire for him. I can only imagine how he feels. But
still, exhaustion is finally starting to trump lust. I sink onto the bed and
fall back against the pillows. I can’t even bring myself to get undressed, I’m
just too tired. I haven’t slept in far too long, though I wouldn’t have missed
that concert for the world. I can’t believe I have to head back in to the
hospital tomorrow. Penny is going to lose her shit all over the place.

Slade sinks down onto the mattress beside me, looking around
my bedroom. “So, this is the place,” he says.

“This is it,” I mumble sleepily.

“The sun’s coming up,” he remarks, looking out the window,
“How are you going to fall asleep?”

“Easy,” I say, rolling onto my side, “Just be quiet and
spoon me, would you?”

He obliges me, and lies down and pulls me against him. We’re
on top of the comforter, snuggled up like newlyweds. The whole thing is totally
bizarre, but somehow totally right at the same time.

“I don’t think I’ve cuddled with anyone for about a decade,”
he says, his lips against my ear.

“How are you liking it?” I ask.

“It’s strange...” he says, shifting his body against mine.
“Usually, your clothes would have been off before we got through the door.”

“I’m not your usual kind of girl, I guess,” I tell him,
cuddling closer.

“You’re certainly not,” he says. “You’re unlike any girl
I’ve ever met.”

“In what way?” I ask.

“You don’t care that I’m a rock star,” he laughs.

“It’s not that I don’t care,” I tell him, “It’s just not why
I care about you.”

I gasp as I realize the words I’ve allowed to escape my
mouth. I hold my breath, hoping he somehow managed to not hear me. Oh please,
let him have not heard that. How could I have slipped up and said those four
words out loud? For god’s sake, we haven’t even slept together! We haven’t even
known each other for a week! What the hell is the matter with me? A long moment
of silence passes, and Slade’s body is perfectly still. Finally, he parts his
lips and whispers into the lightening air.

“I care about you too, Julia.”

Relief and elation erupt inside of me, warring for
attention. I’m completely overwhelmed, and ecstatic, and terrified. I turn
toward him on the bed and look into those dark, endless eyes of his. For a
moment, all I can do is stare silently at this gorgeous man who’s crashed headfirst
into my life.

“You do?” I ask, “You really do?”

“I really do,” he says. “You really do, too?”

“I really do, too,” I say.

We laugh, sounding for the world like a couple of kids on prom
night. Not exactly the kind of pillow talk I’d expect from a rock star. It’s
hard to believe that this is the same person who pinned me against the
backstage wall and sent me soaring into an unbelievable orgasm in the backseat
of his town car. But Slade is nothing if not multifaceted. That much I’ve been
able to figure out.

“I have no idea how this ends,” I tell him.

“Does it have to?” he asks.

“You’re going on tour,” I say.

“I am,” he says.

“For a long time,” I say.

“Yeah,” he admits.

“Well,” I say, yawning widely, “I guess we don’t have to
figure it out tonight.”

“You could come with me,” he suggests hopefully.

“No I can’t,” I tell him, “and you know it, Slade.”

“It was worth a shot,” he says sleepily.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night...day...” mumble, and
finally drift off to sleep. Slade’s arms tighten around me as the sun continues
to rise beyond my window. I greet the new day wrapped up in the embrace of an
unknowable rock star who happens to want me. And after a rock concert and the
best orgasm of my life…I’ve certainly had worse mornings in my time, that much
is for certain.