Heartstrings (10 page)
“What happened? Tell me everything!” she finally spits out.
“We got in his car,” I say.
“And did it?” she asks.
“No,” I laugh, “We drove to Jersey, to this old pool hall
where his band used to play. He brought his guitar, he wanted to visit and pay
tribute, I guess. He played a couple songs he was working on...they were
amazing. And I thought for a second that something was going to happen—”
“You did it in the pool hall?” she bursts out.
“No!” I say, “He took me to this old diner he used to go to
with the band. And the waitress remembered him, and there was practically a
shrine dedicated to him on the wall, and they even had a sandwich named after
him. It was an amazing sandwich, by the way.”
“I couldn’t care less what kind of sandwich you ate,” Penny
says, “When and where and how did you
do it
?”
“Well...” I say, “We didn’t quite. He brought me home, and
asked me to come to his concert tonight. This one’s going to be a real concert,
not like this morning. And then he kissed me...”
Another round of screaming blasts through the phone. Penny
is losing her mind over the line, and I can’t blame her. I don’t know how I’m
keeping it together myself.
“You’re going to go, right?” she demands.
“I mean...Yeah,” I say, “I think I’d better, right?”
“That’s right, you’d better!” she says. “Julia...This is incredible.
You kissed Slade Hale! The Slade Hale! How are you even standing right now?”
“Barely,” I say. “But Penny, I need your help.”
“What do you need?” she asks. “I will literally do anything
if it will help you get laid by a rock star. Anything in the world.”
“I just need something to wear,” I say, “Everything I own
looks like it belongs to a pre-school teacher. Not that that’s a bad thing, I
just think it might be a little out of place at a rock concert.”
“I’ll be there in twenty,” she says, “I can’t believe this.
Little Julia and the big bad rock star...”
“Trust me, I know,” I say.
The line clicks and Penny is gone. I rush into the shower
for a quick scrub down. The hot water is sweet relief against my skin. My
muscles ache pleasantly, the result of having been on my feet so long. I can
only hope that Slade will have me off my feet eventually. I let my hands wander
over my body as I think of him, what he might do to me tonight. My fingers
dance along my belly and thighs, gliding between my legs. I lean back against
the wall of the shower and work myself into a state of near bliss. Kneading and
rubbing, I let myself imagine that it’s Slade touching me, stroking me with his
thick, strong fingers. My knees are trembling in no time, and as I keep his face
in my mind’s eye, I let myself go. I come, thinking of him, barely standing.
The sheer force of my excitement for him nearly knocks me on my ass. I turn off
the water, panting, and pat myself dry. I’m still getting used to acknowledging
the intensity of my desire for him...but I can't remember ever feeling like
this.
My doorbell rings, and I hurry to let Penny in. She flies
over the threshold, staggering under a heaping pile of clothing. She must have
twenty outfits piled up in her arms. Penny is nothing if not a thorough person.
“Come on!” she says, heading up the stairs, “Time is of the
essence!”
“Did you bring your entire wardrobe?” I ask.
“Please,” she says, “This barely scratches the surface.”
She flings the mountain of clothes onto my bed and starts digging
through, extracting and matching pieces. She looks like a surgeon,
hunkering down over a patient—the attention to detail is impressive
“Try these first,” she says, throwing a couple of pieces my
way.
I duck into the bathroom and try to put on the clothing
she’s given me. Everything is all straps and cutouts, and I can’t figure out
what goes where. I do my best to guess at how this thing is supposed to look
and step back out to meet her. Penny takes one look at me and bursts out
laughing.
“You’ve got the skirt on your boobs and the top on your
hips!” she cackles.
“Well, excuse me!” I say, “I only know how to put on actual
clothing, not whatever you call this.”
“Here, she says, handing me a few dresses, “This might be
easier for you.”
I head back into the bathroom and pull on a tight, emerald
green number. Its hem is fringed, and it’s a little difficult to breathe while
wearing it. I go out and give Penny a little turn, and she instructs me to try
the next. This one is white, with a plunging neckline. The fabric is
practically see-through. I show Penny, and she shrugs, clearly not taken with
it. I go back to try on the final piece.
This dress is striped with red and black. There are
carefully placed slits across the fabric, showing off just the right amount of
skin. The garment hugs my generous hips and chest snugly, and even I have to
admit that it looks fantastic on me. I make my way back out to Penny, and she
breaks out a thrilled grin. She demands that I do a little catwalk for her, and
determines that we’ve found a winner. I look at myself in the mirror, turning
this way and that. It’s a good start, that’s for sure, but we’re far from done
here.
“What am I supposed to do with my face?” I ask.
“What do you usually do with it?” Penny says.
“Um. Nothing, really,” I say, “I’m always either at work or
sleeping.”
“Do you have foundation? Liquid eyeliner? The basics?” she
asks.
“Uh...I have some Chapstick,” I say, unhelpfully.
Penny takes a deep breath, looking downright nauseated.
“It’s OK,” she says, “I brought plenty that we can work with. But honestly,
Julia, how the hell did you get this far in life without a decent makeup bag?”
“I’m scrappy,” I shrug.
Penny sits me down in front of the bathroom mirror and gets
to work. She produces an armada of cosmetics, and I stare at the array,
dumbfounded. How anyone finds a use for all these things is beyond me. I’ve
never been fantastic at the girlier parts of being a girl. I like a sundress as
much as anyone else, but usually I just pair it with flip flops, brushed hair,
and a lawn chair in my back yard. This level of primping is completely foreign
to me. The craziest part is that the girls at Slade’s rock shows probably
manage to make it look like they’ve just thrown their looks together. I had no
idea it took so much effort to look effortless.
My friend starts with a base that covers my entire face,
smoothing out my already smooth skin. She adds color to my cheeks, and scares
away the pesky circles under my eyes. Her application of smoky eyes takes
forever, she’s truly an artist at work. She decides to finish off the look with
a bright, bold red lipstick. She steps back and examines her work, nodding
slowly to herself.
“I think you’re going to be rather surprised,” she says.
“Take a look.”
I turn toward the mirror and, for a moment, can’t see
myself. Staring back at me is a rock and roll babe, all glam and glitter. The
girl in the mirror blinks as I blink, her mouth hanging open just like mine.
Finally, it sinks in that the glamorous person reflected back is really me.
“Holy crap,” I breathe, turning my face this way and that.
“You made me...”
“Sexy as hell,” Penny grins. “You’re welcome.”
“How did you do that?” I ask.
“You’re beautiful to begin with,” she says, “That makes it
pretty easy.”
“Thank you Penny,” I say.
“Let’s not do anything to your hair,” she says, playing with
my strawberry blonde locks. “It’ll be all wavy and gorgeous if we just let it
air dry.”
“I don’t think I’ve had my hair down in years,” I say.
“No kidding,” Penny says. “Have you ever even been to
concert before?”
“Sure,” I say. “My mom took me to see Fleetwood Mac’s
reunion tour in Atlantic City.”
“That’s not exactly the kind of concert I was talking
about,” Penny says.
“Is this going to be...very different?” I ask, looking up at
Penny in the mirror.
“Night and day,” Penny says. “Flagrant Disregard is pretty
hardcore. The fans mean business. You saw what happened to Slade, and he’s the
damn lead singer! Are you sure you’re going to be OK, on your own?”
“I hope so,” I say quietly. I hadn’t thought about any of
this. “Slade said I should come backstage.”
“That’s better,” Penny nods, “You won’t get swept up into
any pits that way.”
“What is a...? Never mind,” I say.
“Of course, backstage you might have to deal with groupies,”
Penny says. “Think you can handle that?”
“Other women throwing themselves at Slade?” I ask. The very
thought makes my blood boil. “That might be...difficult.”
“Just remember,” Penny says, placing her hands on my
shoulders and looking me square in the face, “He asked you to be there for a
reason. Why would he have gone through all this trouble if you were just
another piece of arm candy?”
“I don’t know,” I say, “This whole thing makes no sense. I
don’t know why he even bothered to stick around for me once he was discharged.”
“That doesn’t make sense to you?” Penny asks, surprised.
“Julia, you’re a smart, compassionate, funny girl. Not to mention your
bodacious tits.”
I let out a bark of laughter and place an affectionate hand
on Penny’s cheek. “Why, thank you,” I say, “You’re too kind.”
“I’m serious Julia,” Penny says, “There’s no reason why you
should be surprised that Slade likes you. Sure, he’s a rock star. He’s famous,
and rich, and sexy as hell. But you’re pretty freaking awesome yourself. He
sees something in you that he’s interested in. Try not to think about it too
much. Don’t second guess yourself. You deserve to find someone as amazing as
you are.”
“You are awfully good at this pep talk thing,” I tell her.
“I know,” Penny says. “What are you guys going to do after
the concert?”
“I have no earthly idea,” I admit, “I’m trying to just go
with the flow.”
“Well,” Penny says, “What do you want to happen after the
concert?”
A bashful smile creeps across my face. “I have a few ideas,”
I say.
“Yeah, Julia!” Penny cries, clapping her hands together.
“It’s about time you have sex with something that’s not battery operated.
Jesus, how long has it been?”
“Uh...” I say, “Seven...Eight months?”
Penny stares at me, unblinking. “Eight months?” she repeats.
“How...That’s incredible.”
“Oh, come on,” I say, rolling my eyes, “It’s not that bad.”
“If I go a month without, I start to see double,” Penny
says, “So, I’m just going off anecdotal evidence. I have to say, I’m a little
jealous of you. I’m sure Slade is rather...well endowed.”
“Oh, he is,” I say.
“What?!” Penny cries, “I thought you just kissed!”
“I happened to catch a glimpse of it, while he was in the
hospital,” I say, burying my face in my hands. “I’m the worst nurse in the
history of the world.”
“I’m sure that violates about a hundred sexual harassment
and patient care policies,” Penny says, “But it’s not like I can blame you.”
She stands up and pulls me into a hug. “Go get ‘em tonight, babe. I’ll be
expecting a full play by play.”
“Thank you for everything, Penny,” I tell her. “You’re a
lifesaver.”
“That’s true,” she says, practically skipping down the
stairs. “Have a good time! And for god’s sake, don’t be home before curfew.”
She slips out the front door as the street lights flicker
on. It’s just about time to get going. I grab the essentials—wallet, phone,
keys—and head out into the night. I’m about to call a cab when I spot a black
town car gliding down my street. The sleek vehicle stops right in front of my
house. A driver steps out of the front seat, circles around the car, and opens
the door.
He spots me and calls out, “Are you Julia?”
“Uh-huh,” I say dumbly.
“Slade wanted to be sure you arrived in style,” the driver
says.
“I see...” I mutter, making my way forward.
“I’m Anders,” the driver says, “I’ll be taking you around
tonight.”
“Hi Anders,” I say, “I’m overwhelmed.”
“Don’t be,” he laughs, helping me into the car. “It gets
less surreal fast, I promise.”
He closes the door behind me, and the backseat lights up.
The windows are tinted so that nobody can see into the car, and the cabin is a
little den of luxury. As we peel away from the curb, I stare at the chilled
bottle of champagne waiting in an ice bucket before me. Indie rock starts
playing over the speakers, and I see a little note waiting for me on the seat.
I pick it up and spot some scratchy script that I can only guess belongs to
Slade.
“Dear Julia,” the note reads, “Have a drink on me. I’m so
glad I busted open my organs so that I got to meet you. —Slade”
“Charming,” I mutter, picking up a delicate champagne flute.
“Well, when in Rome, I suppose.”
I fill up my glass and take a sip of the bubbly drink. My
nose tickles as the sparkling wine dances across my tongue. First my makeover,
and now this? It’s like I’ve stumbled into someone else’s life, someone cool
and cosmopolitan and edgy. I keep expecting the clock to strike twelve, or for
my carriage to turn into a pumpkin...but so far it’s still a town car, and I’m
still on my way to my first rock concert.
