Cover Me: A Rock Star Romance (6 page)

I walked into a time warp. The Barbie house that had sat in the corner was gone, probably to her nieces, but the strands of beads her older sister, Emmy, brought back from Marti Gras still hung on the corner of the mirror above the dresser. I took a strand down and wound it around my hand. I remembered telling Bess that girls got beads for flashing their tits, so that was probably how Emmy got them. She was horrified.

I sat on the end of the bed, smiling. Bess was such a prude. Was she now? I couldn’t count last night as proof of anything, our situation being different than if we’d met that night. And we didn’t have sex. Would she have sex with a man she just met? I had no idea.

I laid back on her pillow and looked up at the ceiling where the glow-in-the-dark stars used to be. Now there were only sticky marks where they’d been peeled off. I didn’t remember her taking them down. Maybe she did it during our senior year, sometime before she left for college.

I unwound the gold beads from my hand and dropped them beside me on the bed. I didn’t want to get up. I was exhausted and comfortable. How long could I stay there before Mom came looking for me? Jesus, I could only guess what she’d say if she found me napping in Bess’s bed. What a nightmare that would be.

I rolled onto my side and came face-to-face with a small framed photo of Bess and I. We were about twelve, maybe thirteen and sitting on her front porch. I remembered her mom taking the picture. The frame said best friends. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Without thinking about why I was doing it, I picked up the photo frame and left Bess’s room. If I couldn’t have her, I’d at least have a parting gift.

I turned down
my old street in Santa Cruz at eight-thirty that night, wide awake from sleeping so late and guzzling an energy drink while I drove. I gripped the steering wheel and trained my eyes on the right side of the road where halfway up, I’d see The Bast’s house first, then mine.

One block away, I started to get a sinking feeling as their driveway came into view. Mr. Bast’s car sat in the driveway. Their garage was open, but there wasn’t an Aston Martin parked inside.

I pulled into my parents’ driveway and turned off my car. How could I have been so wrong about him coming home? I was so certain I’d find him here. Glancing over at his old house, disappointment stirred inside me. I wanted to prove to myself that there was a small part of him I still knew. I was wrong. Or, I suppose, I was right. I didn’t know Derek Bast anymore.

I took my house key out of my bag and let myself inside. It was strange being there without my mom and dad home. Even if there was no reason to be here, I’d stay overnight and head back into the city in the morning. Driving another five or six hours tonight wasn’t going to happen.

In the kitchen, I dropped my bag and found a bottle of white wine open in the fridge. I poured a glass and grabbed a bunch of grapes out of a bowl on the counter that would be shriveled by the time they got back. The house was stale and stuffy, so I opened the back door to let air in through the screen door, and headed into the family room to relax in front of the T.V.

Two sitcoms later, Karen called for an update. “He’s not here,” I said. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Where else could he be? He has to be there. My guy told me his car was spotted exiting I-5 North onto 152 West. Isn’t that how you get to Santa Cruz?”

“That’s how you get to anywhere north or west of L.A. I’m telling you, he’s not here.” I popped a grape in my mouth and flipped the channel. “Your guy was wrong and so was I.”

“Damn. Alright, I’ll stay on it. Call me on your way back tomorrow.”

We got off the phone, I finished a second glass of wine and watched T.V. until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. I shut and locked the back door before heading to bed.

In my room, I stripped to my underwear and cracked my window open before climbing in bed. Something hard and plastic jabbed my back. I dug around in the sheets and pulled out a strand of Marti Gras beads. My nieces must’ve been playing in my room again. I tossed them on my nightstand and closed my eyes.

There was music.

I rolled over and faced my window, listening. The Bast’s were playing music? It was almost midnight. It seemed unlikely, but that was definitely a guitar.

My heart raced.

It couldn’t be.

I slid out of bed and darted to my window. Across our yards, the light in Derek’s room was on and he sat on the edge of his bed strumming a guitar.

He was here.

He wasn’t just someone I used to know a lifetime ago. I’d been right after all.

I pushed my window up further and watched him work. His eyes were closed and every now and then he stopped playing, took a pencil out from behind his ear and jotted in a notebook beside him. This was how he always worked. The music first then the lyrics, but every now and then he’d sing a phrase and write it above the notes. He’d end up with a bunch of disjointed lines of words. Some would make the final cut and others wouldn’t, but he’d string them together to make a perfect song.

I sat back on my bed and leaned against the headboard. With my eyes closed, I listened and try as I might to discourage it, a picture began to form in my mind. A Derek Bast original. I hadn’t let his music invade my heart and soul since I was eighteen, because I knew it came with a price. I wasn’t prepared to fall in love with Derek again.

The melody was simple. It wasn’t upbeat, but not slow and desolate either. It sounded like hope, courage. It sounded like starting over. Or maybe that was my mind playing tricks on me, trying to get me to forget what stood between us.

The picture melding together in my mind was he and I standing at sunrise on the beach. We stood facing each other. His brilliant green eyes shone bright and clear. The wind played in his dark, tousled hair. A hint of a smile touched his lips. I reached up and brushed his cheek with my fingertips, and a swell of emotion rushed over me.

I opened my eyes and inhaled sharply. The swell of emotion wasn’t part of the picture in my mind. For the second night in a row, tears fell from my eyes over Derek Bast. I wiped them away with haste, trying to deny it was happening again.

Stumbling out of bed, I pulled my window shut and closed the curtains. Now that I knew he was here, I’d leave in the morning and send Karen to ask for the interview. There was no way I could stay and become more and more vulnerable.

Back in bed, I could still hear faint strains of his music. It lulled me into sleep on my tear dampened pillow where I found myself back on the beach touching his cheek.

When I woke from the dream in the morning, it was with the empty, hollowed-out feeling of something missing. I wanted to go back to sleep and find it, but the persistent knocking on the front door urged me out of bed.

A zing of panic shot through me thinking it might be Derek. My car was in the driveway, so it would be logical that one of the Bast’s would come over to find out what was going on while my parents were gone.

I pulled on my jersey dress over my head, grabbed my glasses off the nightstand and finger combed my hair on the way to the door. Through the sidelight, I saw him standing on my porch. The empty, hollowed-out feeling surrounding me since waking from my dream disappeared.

When I opened the door, he looked me up and down. “How did I know you owned a Prius?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Lucky guess?”

“Why aren’t you ready? It’s almost ten.” He tossed me a colorful folded towel.

“Okay. I’ll play. Ready for what?”

“Bess, it’s Saturday. What do we do on Saturday?”

Images of Derek at ten, twelve, fourteen, swam in front of my eyes. Every Saturday morning he stood on my porch waiting for me and we’d walk to the beach. Overwhelmed, I held up a finger. “I just need a minute,” I stammered, closing the door in his face.

Leaning back against it, I pressed my hand to my chest. My heart was about to explode. Once we’d entered high school and Derek’s attention drifted toward the more popular—and more developed—girls, our Saturday trips to the beach stopped. Or, mine did. He went with his group of guy friends to hit on girls. I stayed home and tried to pretend it didn’t bother me. To be fair, I could’ve tried harder to find girls to hang out with, but that didn’t happen until college.

A knock reverberated beside my head. I turned and opened the door to his amused grin. “I gave you
two
minutes. Ready now?”

I thought I might jump out of my skin with anxiety, but there was no part of me urging me to say no. “I’ll run and put a bathing suit on.”

“I’d say it was optional, but if the prospect of eating burgers scared you off, that would make you slam the door in my face.” He lowered onto the porch step and sat down. “I’ll wait here.”

I couldn’t do anything but nod, wondering how this day would progress. Wondering what he expected to happen between us.

Derek

W
hen I woke
this morning and joined my parents for breakfast, Mom said there was a Prius in the Halprin’s driveway. Who else could it be but Bess? Since her parents were in Europe, there was only one reason she’d be there. Me.

Bess came to find me.

I decided I’d find her first and by the look on her face, I shocked the shit out of her.

I leaned back against the porch railing, smiling to myself. Some of my favorite memories from growing up were the Saturday morning walks to the beach with Bess. She’d talk about things that were interesting, like how the female praying mantis bit the head off of the male when they were done mating—something I’d have to watch out for if I ever got her into bed, considering our love/hate relationship.

The guys always talked about sports and boobs and when we got older, partying and banging chicks. Not that I minded. I mean, I joined in, but Bess made me think and she made me laugh. She was different. Not odd, different. Bess different.

Being back in Santa Cruz brought a new perspective on where I was headed and what I wanted. Last night I started writing a new song and today was the day for setting things straight with Bess. She wasn’t going to push me away. I wouldn’t
go
away, so she was shit out of luck if she wanted me to.

The front door opened and she stepped out wearing a beach cover-up and holding the towel I gave her. Her bag was slung over her shoulder. I took the towel from her and tucked it under my arm with mine. “Want me to carry your bag?”

“No, thanks.” She jogged down the few steps onto the sidewalk. Her hand shook as it glided down the railing. I wanted to grab it and hold it, assure her that today we’d get things right.

The worn down path to the beach cut through the overgrown grass and weeds of a vacant lot at the end of our street that had hosted a faded for sale sign for as long as I could remember. I kept my eyes peeled for paparazzi or press as we walked. I thought about driving, but it wouldn’t be the same and it was vital that I made this day the same as our beach Saturdays used to be.

Bess walked in front of me down the path. I watched her hips sway and the thin, white cover-up catch the curves of her ass. My hands clenched remembering how it felt to squeeze her bare ass cheeks and pull her up against me on my lap.

“I was watching this show last night,” she said, breaking the silence we’d held since leaving her porch. “Did you know the electric chair was invented by a dentist?”

“A dentist? No. I didn’t know that.” What was it about walking down the path with me that made her think of fun facts about death when I was deep in thought about having my fingers inside her again?

“Like going to the dentist wasn’t bad enough,” she said. “I wonder what he was
trying
to invent. He couldn’t have sent out to make a chair that killed people. At least I hope not. My guess is he was attempting to knock people out for surgery.”

“Reminds me of when you got your wisdom teeth out.” I chuckled, thinking back on it. “Your whole face puffed up like a balloon.”

She looked back over her shoulder at me and tried to give me a dirty look, but ended up laughing. “God, that was awful. And you barely swelled at all when you had yours out. So unfair.”

That was the last summer she talked to me. Neither of us mentioned it, but the knowledge was there, standing between us.

A rickety, wooden set of stairs led down to the beach. It was packed with people. Sun umbrellas stood in the sand and kids splashed in the waves. Groups of teens milled around checking each other out and the water was dotted with surfers.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll be spotted?” Bess shielded her eyes with her hand, looking up at me.

“It crossed my mind.” But, this trip down memory lane with her was more important than caring if people got photos of me laying in the sand.

“Your parents’ house will be swarmed if it gets out you’re here.” She glanced around the beach then back up at me. “You can’t pretend things haven’t changed.”

My hands hit my hips and I inhaled deeply, keeping my cool. “Too much has changed. That’s the problem. I just want one thing to be how it used to be. Why is that too much to ask?”

“Of me?” She asked, her brows tilting adorably over her glasses.

I ran a hand down her arm, unable to keep myself from touching her any longer. “Of anyone. Any
thing
.”

She nibbled her nail and turned back to the beach, looking right then left. “How much money do you have on you?”

I patted my pocket. “Couple hundred probably. Why?”

“Trust me?” She asked, holding out her hand.

That she’d have to ask struck me in the gut. I reached out and cupped the back of her head in my hands and I stared into her eyes, willing her to know how important she was to me. How she’d always been the person I trusted most, even after all the time that had passed between us. “Always,” I said, then leaned in closer to make sure it was clear.
“Always.”

We were so close, her warm breath tickled my lips. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted a replay of yesterday when she couldn’t stop herself from kissing me. “What do you want?” she asked, as if reading my mind. I gazed back and forth between her beautiful, dark blue eyes. “It’s not an easy question to answer,” she said, “is it?”