Tracks (Rock Bottom) (12 page)

“
Dylan,” he says, low and husky.

“Jeremy,” I say quietly, a
little afraid of his coldness.

I turn around and wave to Theresa. She gives me a little wave. “Good luck on your date tonight,” I say. She smiles again, obviously intimidated, too, as I walk out onto my doorstep and shut my door. I can feel Jeremy standing next to me.
I turn to him, and we are face to face.

I look into his eyes, first stern and cold, and then they begin to soften. I smile at him. He finally unfolds his hands and puts his hand on my left cheek. “How’s your face?” he says, low.

“It’s fine, really,” I say, grabbing the hand he has on my face. “Is that what you’re upset about?”

“Yes,” he says, almost growling. “I’m so so
rry you were hurt. I came to make sure you were ok.”

“Rich took good care of me.”

“I won’t let them hurt you ever again,” he vows. His face is very serious. We stare for a moment.

“Sir,” one of the big men say
s. “We have to get back, quickly.”

All of the policemen and security guards turn and walk in front of us down the steps.
We walk up to his black car and he opens the door for me. I scoot all the way over, leaving him room to sit by the door. The policemen and one of the big men get into the three police cars parked randomly around the street. Rich gets into the driver’s seat, and another big man gets into the passenger’s side. I see the police cars’ lights turn on.

Jeremy grabs my left hand, putting it to his lips and kissing it. He looks up over my hand into my eyes. “You look so sexy,” he says. “How am I sup
posed to concentrate on stage?”

My eyes widen. “Oh, will I be distracting?”
I say, feeling self-conscious.

He
laughs his little boy laugh, loud and choppy. He puts our hands down on the seat, still connected. “Yes,” he says. “But not in a bad way. I’m just not sure I’ll be able to keep my hands off you tonight.” His eyes smolder.

“I’m not sure I want you to,” I say bravely.

I lean closer to him. He takes my chin in his free hand and grabs it hard, pulling my face to his. His lips press against mine, and he opens my mouth with his and licks my tongue. He tastes amazing again, like the most expensive beer. I feel my insides tighten.

The car suddenly stops, and we break from the kiss. Looking up, I once again see a steel door. I see a lot of policemen, but thankfully, no fans or reporters. “We sent a decoy car to another door,” he explains, seeing my relief when
staring towards it.

I smile, and he returns the smile as he leans over. He presses his cheek against mine, blowing into my ear again. “That dress is going to be fun to peel off of you,” he breathes. I pant instantly.
I run my hands along his bare arms. The door opens and all of the police officers and big men are back, standing in front of the car and making a line to the steel door a few feet from us. Jeremy hops out and pulls me with him just as quickly, and we run as fast as my 6 inch heels will allow us into the green hallway.

Immediately, Jeremy is caught in a storm of stage hands and men in business suits. They are all talking at the same time as we walk towards the stage area. There is a younger guy who walks behind me, about Jeremy’s age, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I wonder who he could possibly be as we almost make it to the stage. Instead of going through the steel door that leads to the floor in front of the stage, we make a left and go up a small flight of black stairs and through a wooden do
or that leads to the stage’s right wing.

Most of the stagehands scatter when we
reach the stage area. The 3 men in business suits take seats in the way back of the curtain area and try to have a conversation over the deafening scream of the fans. Jeremy leans over and says into my ear, “I’ll be right back. Have a seat,” he motions towards a chair set up in the wings.

I sit in my chair but peer over my shoulder at him. He walks into a room in the very back next to where the men in the business suits are sitting
. It looks like it’s probably a quick change dressing room. He’s followed by the boy in the jeans that I noticed earlier in the hallway. I already don’t like that kid. There’s something about him- he reminds me of a weasel. Maybe it’s because he’s short and has a tiny pinched face- but he seems sneaky all the same. They shut the door behind them and are in there for at least 10 minutes. When Jeremy comes out, he’s smiling and holding a beer. The boy follows out behind him, carrying a little grocery store plastic bag that’s tied at the top.

He waves to the boy and the boy turns and leaves.
He makes eye contact with me and struts over to me. The fans are going wild, chanting for him and screaming. It’s almost show time and they are getting antsy. I want to ask him about the boy, but I’m still getting to know him and we’re only just dating, so I figure it’s none of my business and decide to let it go. He squats next to my chair. “You ready for this?” he yells and smiles.

I smile and nod, noting that his eyes look different. The blue
looks darker somehow, and they are- what’s the word- teary? Almost like he’s going to cry, but he doesn’t seem sad. “Is everything okay?” I say, concerned.

He takes a swig from his can, downing the rest
of the liquid before crumpling it in his hand. He looks down, almost guiltily. “Just nervous!” he yells, looking quickly back up at me. I chuckle but I don’t think he can hear me. I hope he doesn’t expect me to believe that a man performing since before he could talk is nervous.

A stage hand walks over
with the guitar, and Jeremy stands up to receive it. He grabs gently, like it’s precious or fragile. He throws the strap over his head, letting the guitar hang in front of his exposed chest. A woman is suddenly standing behind him, trying to comb through his long hair. I look up at him, looking at the guitar shimmer in the faint light. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The woman behind him steps away, satisfied with his orderly yet messy hair. He peers down at me and gives me a wry smile. I melt.

As h
e still stands next to me behind the curtain, he raises his hand and strums hard on his guitar. The sound is loud- even louder than the crowd. It makes everyone jump backstage. The crowd goes silent at first, and then collectively begins to scream. Jeremy closes his eyes again, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. He begins to strum fast on his guitar, moving his fingers along the neck extremely quickly, up and down. The sound is sultry; it sends a shiver up my spine.

He
sways his head to the music as he plays. The blue stage lights hit his face, and he looks like a beautiful, fantastic, other-earthly creature. I hear girls screeching from the crowd. I am overcome with emotion, and I can now say I relate to his crazed fans.

He walks out on stage as he starts playing cords on the silver guitar.
It shimmers wildly in the bright stage lights. The drums kick in and then the whole band begins to play. It’s amazing to watch his show up close like this. There are girls crying, trying desperately to clamber onto the stage. It’s madness. The girls sing along to all of his music. There are pyrotechnics, bright white lights firing from the ends of the stage. At one point, Jeremy takes a bottle of water and pours it on himself, the girls scream.
I
almost start to scream, watching the water fall down his body. He jumps and shakes and twists, losing himself in the performance. He’s so different on stage- unhinged. No pretenses. It’s pure magic.

I peer out into the crowd
mid-way through the show and see girls lifting up their shirts, exposing themselves to him. Unfortunately, these girls were attractive and had a lot to show. I flush in anger and feel the burning in my stomach. I decide not to look out anymore.

When the show is almost over, Jeremy
sits on a stool that was placed in the middle of the stage. He brings the microphone close to his face as the band exits the stage on the opposite side of where I sit. I can see them grabbing water and wiping themselves with towels.

The stage lights turn dark.
Jeremy wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. Breathing heavily, he says, “Hello everyone.”

The girls
in the crowd scream, “I love you Jeremy!”

He laughs. “I’m going to cover a song by Peter Gabriel.
I’m sure you know it. I’ve always loved this song and now it has a special meaning to me,” he looks over into the wings nonchalantly at me, and shoots me a dazzling smile. I blush, frozen.

He exhales lightly into the microphone. “Love,” he croons and plays a note. His voice wraps around the word
like liquid. The crowd screams.

He sings a slow, almost sad version of
“In Your Eyes,” strumming his guitar slowly, gazing at me every now and then. It’s bluesy and beautiful, and I’m in awe of this man and overwhelmed by his gesture. I don’t feel like I’m worthy of his time or affection- this genius, this beautiful man. My stomach aches as I yearn to touch him, to know him, to be with him.

When he’s
finished, the crowd goes crazy. “Have a good night!” Jeremy says, breathlessly. He stands, flings his guitar onto his back, and runs off stage. I stand up and he runs immediately into my arms.

“It was wonderful!” I scream, running my hands automatically in his wet hair.

He pulls away and looks at me. Both of our faces pale for a moment. We stare in each other’s eyes as awareness comes over both of us. The show is over, and now we have the night.

The stage hands and men in suits come up to Jeremy, patting him on the back.
He lets go of me and turns around and shakes hands with his crew. He smiles and thanks everyone. A stage hand throws him a beer, and he drinks it immediately, like he was famished. He leans over to a man in a suit and says, “No press tonight man, tomorrow.” The man nods and everyone starts to walk away.

A big man comes up behind Jeremy and says loudly, “See anyone you want to bring back?”

It takes me a moment to understand the question. As I slowly figure it out, the anger in my stomach hits me full force. What he meant to say is ‘did you see any trashy chicks in the crowd you want to bang’.

The only person he’ll b
e banging tonight better be me. I wait impatiently for his response.

But then again, a
m I sure I want to do this? Obviously, when he brought me back stage to woo me, it’s not an abnormal occurrence for him. The bad memories of the night I first met him creeps back into my head. ‘Womanizer,’ my subconscious mocks again. I tell it to shut up.

“No, not tonight,” he says to the man.
I relax immediately, my anger satiated by his quick denial. He turns around quickly and smiles at me. His smile is so happy, so light. It makes him look so innocent and Godly. I don’t think he realizes I heard their exchange. I smile back and blush again.

He slinks up to me, grabbing me around the back.
The crowd is still loud, some still screaming for him, the rest making their way out of the glass doors to the theater. He puts his lips up to my ear. “I love when you blush,” he croons. “Do you want to get out of here?”

I’m a little disappointed.
To go where? I thought we’d just be in his dressing room most of the night. Actually, I’m a little happy to not have to be back there. I don’t have to be on that couch, where I’m sure so many other women have been.

“Ok
ay,” I whisper back in his ear.

He
pulls away and grabs my hand. We walk over to Rich, who’s standing in the corner by the door that leads down the steps into the hallway. “Take me and the lady back to my house?” he says, letting go of my hand for a minute to lift his guitar off of his back. Rich takes the guitar and nods, almost looking surprised, handing Jeremy a black T-shirt that he throws on over his bare chest. He turns and we follow him down the steps as much stomach twists in on itself.

‘His house?!?’ my mind screams. I’m trying not to lose it right then and there. I feel the color run out of my face. I’m trying to concentrate on taking steady breaths in and out and convincing
myself that I’m ready for this.

Midway down the green hallway, Jeremy looks at me. I look up at him and see a concerned look on his face. “You ok
ay?” he says.

No. I don’t know.
Maybe? “Yes,” I whisper, unconvincingly.

Rich opens the steel door for us and we quickly run into the car. The police and security are finally doing their job because there’s no sign of any fans or press. But as soon as we get into the car, Rich locks the doors and speed
s away. Better safe than sorry.

Our hands are still locked together a
s the limo drives through the streets of Boston. My house is very close to the theater, but his house seems to be more on the outskirts of the city. 15 minutes later of a silent ride, we still aren’t there.

Jeremy breaks the s
ilence. “Almost there. See that lake? I live right behind there.”

I peer off into the distance and see the moon reflected in a little
pond. We turn down a street beside it and finally up to a beautiful, old apartment building. It’s very classic Boston, red bricks and vines growing up the side. I turn and smile at him. “Not what I was expecting.”