Date With A Rockstar (10 page)

“I grew up by the ocean.” His lips brush my hair and a portion of his chest presses against my back as he peers out the window. “We had so many trees. I miss it.” He reclines back in the seat.

“Can't you go back?” With all of that money, couldn't he live wherever he wanted?

“No. I was still young when the whole area was developed. You know how it goes, not enough space in the world for undeveloped green space.”

“Oh.”

“Don't look so sad. It's not apartment buildings or anything. Just a vertical crop farm. The technology's cool and at least the nature is preserved, even if no visitors are allowed.”

“Still, it's sad that you can't go home anymore.”

He sits quietly for a moment, staring out the window. “I have other houses. But you're right. That place always did feel special to me.”

The limo pulls to a stop and the assistant tells us to sit still while he unloads the cameras and sets up for us to exit. I just want to climb out of the car.

“This is idiotic,” Jeremy says to me. “I wish we could ditch these guys.”

Me too.
They tap on the glass and we clamber out of the limo on cue. Jeremy offers me his hand and I let him pull me up and out. Every time his skin brushes mine, my head heats up.

The air is warm and green. I lick my lips. “This is so—”

The assistant steps in front of me. “Slowly walk down the trail to the beach bar and lounge chairs.”
Way to ruin my moment.
The cameras are dragged onto the sand while the operator mutters about the damage being done to the equipment.

Jeremy flexes his jaw like he wants to kill these guys. As it is, they have us walking so slowly we might as well be doing a bridal march. Derek stays at a discreet distance, but I catch his muffled laugh as he watches the processional. The path to the beach splits and Jeremy quickly takes my hand and cuts off to the side. “Let's get a drink.”

It's only ten a.m., but I don't argue. I need a drink. “Two coconuts,” Jeremy says and holds up his wrist for them to scan. I pull my hands behind my back, rubbing the empty spot where my chip would be embedded if I had one.

The bartender tilts the coconuts under the spigot and then puts a scoop of fruit in each, just as I imagined on the plane. The cameras have caught up with us, but we ignore them. We sit at a table under the shade of a thatch umbrella. Sweet coconut liquor fills my mouth and muffles my nerves.

“Thank you for the drink,” I say. He clunks his coconut against mine and takes a gulp. “What did we toast to?” I ask.

He leans into me. “To escaping the crew. I have a plan.”

“Good,” I mouth. He's drinking fast, so I try to follow his lead. I'm not buzzed, just tingly, but that could also be from being near Jeremy. I don't know what he has in mind, but spending time away from the cameras would be perfect.

“We'll have to play along for a while,” he whispers.

I nod and smile, taking another sip. I'm on my first ever date, and it's televised. I'm so nervous I can barely speak, but he spoke last so I have to say something. “How do you pick the background noise for your songs?” I hope that doesn't sound like a magazine interview question.

He looks around at the people on the beach. “What do you see out there?”

“People covering themselves with sunblock, talking on their phones, and enjoying the beautiful scenery all around them.”

“Okay, good. Now close your eyes and tell me what you hear.”

“Yelling kids, splashing water. The camera crew shuffling around the table.”

He laughs. “I like your perspective. So, if I were writing a song from your viewpoint, I'd pick those three pieces of noise and mimic them. Take a few yelling kids, draw out the notes, and repeat the sound until it's more instrumental rather than noisy.”

I take a gulp of my drink. I'm stunned. He really is an artist. “That's amazing to think about. How would your perspective be different?”

He grins at me. “I'd probably focus on you and the sound your coconut makes on the table, like a drumbeat. Then I'd pick a few key lines for you to say.”

“And what would you have me say?” I ask, leaning closer.

“Uh-oh, now I'm on the spot.” He takes a big drink.

I drape my hair over one shoulder, giving him a second to think. “You don't have to answer.”

“Eh, my lyrics sometimes cut to the emotional center of an idea. But…okay. How about this: ‘Coconut liquor heating my tongue. What does heat taste like? What do you?'” He pauses and flushes. “Uh, then I'd play the noise your lips make when you lick them.”

My face is burning. “I'm speechless.”

“Damn, our first date and I've already scared you.” He glances down quickly and swirls the liquor and juice around in his coconut.

“No, nothing like that.” I drag my finger through the condensation under my drink. “I think your song would be much more romantic than mine. Yelling kids aren't that melodic.”

He looks back up at me and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent succumbing to the dazzle effect.

“I think that's why I got so popular with my last few recordings. I'm trying to find the sexy parts of the natural world.” He flips his hair back.

My brain flutters. Jeremy Bane sitting inches from me, talking about music. Dream come true. But now I need to pull it together, because I need that prize money and I can't lose my ability to reason. “You do a great job composing. I wish people connected with visual art the same way they do with music.”

“I remember you said you do scratching in your interview. I want to see your work sometime.”

I nod. Any excuse for more time. “I'm sure it's amateurish compared to what you produce.”

“Hey, don't undercut yourself. I'm sure it's incredible.”

I shrug. I don't think I'm any better at taking a compliment than he is.

“Let's see if we can get a moment alone.” He takes my hand. I push my drink back and stand up. I wish I could keep the coconut. I'll never be able to see one again without thinking of his lyrics. My feet sink into the hot sand and we take quick steps together toward the water. “Do you swim?” He asks the question as though he expects me to say, “Of course I can swim.”

“No.”

He stops his brisk steps and turns to me. “You can't swim?”

“Sorry, this is my first time at the beach.”

“You didn't learn when you were growing up?” His eyebrows lift and I find the expression particularly endearing.

He must have grown up with a lot of rich kids. “I'm from Boston and they don't let people swim in the harbor.”

“Huh. I can't imagine not swimming. But don't worry, I'll teach you. It's not hard.”

“Okay.” I can't do this. I'll sink like a stone.

He pauses by a lounge chair close to the water's edge and strips off his T-shirt. The bottom drops out of my stomach. Oh. My. God. He ripples with muscle in the bright sunshine. He's so real and so sculpted, and his chest is better than any of my fantasies. “Are you swimming in your T-shirt?” he asks.

My T-shirt. Crap.
I choke and glance at the camera. Jeremy follows my gaze and steps in front of the lens. “I'll walk behind you into the water.”

Oh, God. He just thinks I'm shy.
“It's not that. Well, it is, but also—” I try to swallow, but my throat tightens and damn…I'm so nervous. He's watching me, silently asking me what my problem is. I don't want to be this girl. I want to be confident, pretty. And I really don't want to admit I'm diseased. I slide my T-shirt over my head and toss it on the chair next to his. I keep my back turned away from him and the cameras.

“Purple,” he whispers.

I drop the wrap skirt. The cameraman edges around Jeremy to get a clean shot of me. “What the hell, man?” He puts his hand over the lens. “Show a little bit of respect.”

“She's agreed to be filmed.”

“I doubt she agreed to have every guy in the world watch her undress.”

The assistant holds his hand up for us to give him a minute as he opens his briefcase. I wonder if I actually did agree to that very thing.

“Come on.” Jeremy turns his back to them and I stay in front of him, walking backward until my heels hit the cool water.

“Oh!” I freeze. “The water's not warm.”

He laughs at me. “Don't worry. Your body will get used to the temperature.” I rub my hands over my goose bumps.

“Did you think it would be like an indoor swim center?”

I bite my lip. “I'm not sure what I expected.” I shiver and step quickly into deeper water. We face each other. My balance would be better if I walked the other way, but Jeremy would see my back. I stumble and he grabs my arm to support me.

“The waves will knock you around if you let them.” He keeps one hand on my arm to stabilize me.

I'm up to my thighs in the cold water and the sand slips away under my feet. I stare down. My legs are obscured by the sediment I kick up as I try to move.

“Hey, focus on me.” He tilts my chin up. “You don't have to look so scared. I'm not going to let you drown.”

His fingers on my chin are gentle. Water weaves between my legs and I'm unsteady on my feet. He drops his hand away from my face, but continues to watch me.

“The sensation is so weird. The waves keep trying to push—” A wave cracks against my back and I'm flung forward, past Jeremy, and all of a sudden I'm underwater. I thrash back and forth, trying to find the bottom or the air—anything to figure out which way to push. I'm drowning. I'm sure of it. Then I feel Jeremy's grip tight on my wrist, yanking me back up.

“Just put your feet underneath you,” he's saying. I cough and sputter. There's sand in my mouth and I think my head hit the bottom. “Deep breath, you're fine.”

I do what he says and plant my feet on the ground. I pat my back. The mic is still attached. “I thought you said you weren't going to let me drown!” I push the hair out of my eyes and cough out more sand. “You could've caught me.”

“I tried, but you were pin-wheeling your arms all over the place, and then you just sat down.”

“I didn't do that.” I blink the water out of my eyes and glance down at my top to make sure the purple triangles are still in place. Then I'm laughing. “I just sat down?”

“Pretty much.”

“Then how did I get sand in my mouth?”

“I have no idea.” He takes my hand and pulls me to his side. “I think you'd better risk the camera and let me go first to protect you from the waves.” I hope the camera is far enough away to not have a clear shot of my back. If only my hair was four inches longer, my entire lower back would be covered. Jeremy takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. The gesture knocks the need for self-preservation right out of me and I follow along meekly.

“It's easier once we're past the wave breaking point,” he explains.

I try to smile, but the deeper we get, the more my body tries to float away. The water laps at my neck by the time he finally stops.

“Mission accomplished.” Did I miss something? “They won't be able to hear us now.” He touches my shoulder blade where the mic is submerged. “Water distorts the sound too much. This may be as much privacy as we're getting today.”

“Oh.” What now? Should I tell him about Fluxem? If I want the sympathy vote, confessing that might do it. And ruin our date, too.

“Tell me something real, that you don't want the world to know.”

I gulp. This is it. Tell him. I swallow my contagious saliva back down again. “I, uh, can answer the one-wish question you asked on the plane.”

He pushes his wet hair back out of his face. “Nice, I love hearing how people respond to that question.”

No pressure. “I'd make all the water in the world clean and—”

“Hey, that's my wish.” He splashes me.

Argh, what am I doing? He gave me the perfect opportunity. “Well, I wasn't finished. I was going to add more.”

“No double wishing.”

“So I can't add the ability to breathe underwater so that I can collect treasure?”

“Nope.”

“Well, crap.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “How am I supposed to believe that's really your wish? You might be using my ocean series of songs as inspiration?”

“Fine.” I raise my chin high above the water. “I take it back. Dump the pollution in, I only want the treasure at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Selfish, huh?” he asks, laughing.

“Only when it comes to treasure,” I say, smiling. “Your turn, answer the same question.”

“I told you, you stole
my
answer.”

The water laps at my face and I bounce on my toes. “Pick a different wish.”

“All right, I'll re-grow that huge section of redwood forest that they cut down. I love the old pictures of that place.”

“Oh, me, too. I have this black and white picture of the tree branches weaving together, kind of chaotic, like life.” A wave pushes me forward and I stretch to try and reach the ground. My head dips and water goes up my nose. I try to cover my face and blow it out in a ladylike fashion, but the salt burns. Jeremy touches my shoulder to steady me.

“Do you want me to teach you how to swim?”

“Yes.”

How do I bring up Fluxem? I should have wished for the cure. Though maybe there's a chance he might pick me just because.

“You're going to have to pay attention if you want to learn.”

“I'm with ya. I was just thinking up more wishes.”

He smirks at me. “You're certainly a person with a lot of desires.” His voice deepens at the end.

“Nah, I'm a simple girl.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Hey, you're the mysterious and romantic musician.”

“Oh, the flattery.” He fans his face, which splashes water in my direction.