Rock Star (27 page)

Callie walked briskly towards the break room. “I’m taking out the garbage. Last night I saw a huge rat out by the dumpsters. I’m sure you’ll want to visit your kin.”

It took him a moment to digest and interpret the insult. Then he stopped in mid-stride and looked around the room. Clearly the presence of customers prevented his responding as he would have liked. Instead, with a grunt of frustration, he turned and left the store with an ominous, “I’ll be back.”

Callie crossed her arms across her chest, primarily to restrain the urge to shove him out the door. “I’ll be waiting, jackass,” she muttered under her breath.

* * *

Even with the paparazzi being kept outside, she still had to deal with the people inside the store. There had been a sudden influx of customers generated by the media’s presence. There hadn’t been this much excitement in town since Emmitt Whitehead’s emus got loose and ran right down Broad Street. It had taken days to round up all the contrary birds. Of course, there hadn’t been any television cameras or reporters around when that happened. A regrettable fact actually. Nothing like a rampaging herd of emus to drive even the most determined paparazzi out of town.

Even during the holidays, they never had crowds like this. The participants behaved as if in a poorly choreographed square dance; the people came to rubberneck at the reporters, and the cameras recorded the people. Under better circumstances, Callie would’ve been amused. Of course, the situation would have been funny only if the cameras were not pointed at her. Fortunately for her balance sheet, some of the people actually chose to buy books and magazines while they were there, so at least the fiasco had a profitable silver lining. She, Tonya, and Roshonda had worked constantly for the past two days, both on selling and restocking the shelves. Though the store was usually crowded on Saturdays, today it was almost standing room only. There couldn’t possibly be this many people in Maple Fork, Callie thought. Maybe folks were coming in from some of the surrounding communities to participate in the spectacle.

Callie was ringing up sales while Tonya and Roshonda helped customers on the floor. She was gratified that at least the townspeople did not seem to believe the tabloid story. Some of the customers had gotten quite ugly with the reporters and others had reminded Callie that they knew the stories were all lies. They’d known her since she was a child, they’d said, and certainly knew her better than a bunch of California crazies. She didn’t have the heart to tell them that The Naked Truth was headquartered in Florida. As far as her neighbors were concerned, everything that was evil or insane had to come from California or New York. Besides, Florida wasn’t really a Southern state anymore. With all the snowbirds, it had pretty much become a suburb of New York City. Their support had lifted her spirits somewhat, and she was able to work during the day with some semblance of normalcy. But she still couldn’t bring herself to talk to Bryan. She didn’t really blame him for what had happened. In truth she faulted herself. After all, she’d entered a relationship with the man knowing full well how treacherous fame could be. Her daddy had always warned her that her good name was all she had. Well, she had jeopardized hers for…for what? Callie squelched the tiny voice that told her she’d risked it all for love. Sometimes love simply wasn’t enough, she whispered to herself fiercely.

She thought it best to simply make a clean break with Bryan and leave it at that. The tour would be over in a week or so now, and she could make arrangements to return his gifts to him. Surely he would understand what that meant. If not, she would probably have to talk to him briefly, but by then she would be feeling stronger and better able to handle it.

Ever since the story had broken the telephone had rung constantly with other tabloids wanting to get “her side of the story.” She wondered if tabloid reporters had moonlighting jobs as telemarketers. The similarity in their technique could not be mere coincidence. No matter how many times she declined their absurd offers, they continued to call. Every time she left the building there was a photographer there to snap her picture. How many shots of her taking out the garbage or making the daily bank drop could they possibly need?

There was a brief lull in the clamor from the reporters, and then the door buzzer rang. Resigned to having to deal with yet another customer, Callie looked up, pleasantly surprised to see Granny, owner of the restaurant next door, striding purposefully towards her. Granny was a very large woman, standing well over six feet. She had a massive bosom and in her youth she had been called a handsome woman. Now she was simply stately. Her mahogany-colored skin was still smooth and soft as a girl’s though she had to be well into her seventies. She’d told Callie once that she never went to bed without smoothing Vaseline on her face. That ritual had apparently left her skin virtually wrinkle free. Callie was overjoyed when she saw that Granny carried what had to be one of her legendary apple-pear pies. It had been months since Granny had made one. Though she’d had no appetite for days, the sight of that succulent pastry set her mouth to watering. Granny placed the pie on the counter, then pulled Callie aside. There was a disgruntled murmur from the waiting customers when Granny pulled Callie away, but Granny quelled any discord with a sharp glance and a raised eyebrow.

“I wanted to tell you that I know that what they said about you and that boy isn’t true. I saw the two of you coming in and out my restaurant for months, and I’ve been around long enough to know true love when I see it. I had that for nearly forty years with my husband.” She took a deep breath, plainly still mourning a man who had been dead for nearly ten years. “You don’t see it too often these days. Most of these young folks don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground!” She put her hands on her hips. “But you two have it and better not nobody come in my place and say otherwise.” She nodded towards the front of the store, where the reporters could be seen through the window. “One of those flea-bitten dogs had the nerve to come in my restaurant today. I told him we don’t serve animals, to get out of my place.”

Despite her misery, Callie’s mouth curved in amusement. Earlier that day, one of the reporters had decided to go to the bakery down the street for doughnuts and coffee. Mrs. Reynolds, who owned the bakery, had chased the poor man out of her store. Brandishing a baguette like a billy club, she’d pursued him all the way back down the street. Callie blinked rapidly as the tears suddenly welled up in her eyes; she hadn’t expected this outpouring of support. Damn! She cried so easily these days! She gave Granny a quick hug. “Thank you so much, Granny, I really appreciate it.”

Granny returned the embrace and gave Callie a brief kiss on the top of her head. “Don’t let all this get you down, baby. It’ll be over soon, and these numbskulls will go and harass somebody else. You stay strong now, you hear?”

Callie smiled and gave Granny a quick nod. “Yes, ma’am, Granny, I hear.”

* * *

From her position near the greeting cards fixture, Tonya watched the interaction between Callie and Granny. She was grateful that so many people had shown their support for her friend. Callie had always maintained a low profile, never wanting any attention at all. She’d spent her life cultivating a good image and was well-known as a decent girl. For her to suddenly be inundated with this type of publicity was incredibly unfair. After Callie’s breakdown on Thursday, she’d returned from her parents’ home on Friday morning at seven o’clock ready to go to work. Though she’d looked tired and worn, she’d worked through the past two days with an energy that was only belied by the emptiness in her eyes. Callie was hurting. Those who cared about her knew she was keeping it together by sheer force of will. She had often joked that her mother was a “steel magnolia,” but it was evident that she too possessed a will of iron. Tonya admired her friend, but was worried for her too. She heard the sobs through Callie’s bedroom door each night, and could tell that she was getting little sleep and that the coffee she drank constantly was all that was keeping her going. When they were in their apartment, Callie carried Bartholomew with her everywhere and slept with him each night. This could not continue. The girl was wasting away right before her very eyes.

With Callie’s full knowledge, Tonya had talked to Bryan several times per day since the story broke. She would not go behind her friend’s back, even though she felt that the situation would only be resolved by Callie talking to Bryan. But her stubborn friend wouldn’t relent. Bryan and Callie were in equally bad shape, though Callie seemed to be handling it better. She couldn’t believe that Bryan managed to go on stage and perform each night, when as best she could tell, the man could barely maintain a coherent thought. He began every conversation inquiring about Callie’s well being, and then he would just repeatedly ask her to tell Callie he loved her. Tonya had agreed to pass on the message, and had done so, but Callie had responded with only a blank stare. Tonya could tell that neither was sleeping much, and both were exhausted and numb with hurt and despair. Callie insisted on the separation, even though they both desperately needed to be together.

Tonya had a sneaking suspicion that Callie intended to continue ignoring Bryan until he simply gave up and stopped calling. She shook her head. Evidently the girl didn’t have a clue as to the type of man she was dealing with. It hadn’t taken her very long to realize that Bryan intended to hold onto Callie regardless of what her intentions were. To a man like Bryan, her refusal was immaterial. He would go away only if he knew for sure that Callie didn’t want him, and no one who had ever seen them together would ever believe that. Though normally she would stand behind whatever decision Callie made, given their pitiful state, Tonya appreciated Bryan’s obstinacy. He had called her earlier in the day and told her that they had a plan in the works to resolve this mess, and that the reporters would be gone by the end of the day. He’d also told her that the band would be performing on Saturday Night Live that weekend. Tonya was going to make sure that Callie watched it. Maybe seeing Bryan again would force her to come to her senses. She was relieved to hear that their media siege would soon end, but she just hoped that whatever they had planned for Saturday night wouldn’t spark it again. Callie’s nerves were pretty much stretched to the limit. If she had to endure much more of this insanity, those reporters would really have something to talk about.

* * *

Callie lowered her head as her father said grace. This command performance for Sunday dinner at her parents’ home was not what she had planned for this evening. After the hellish week she had been more inclined to crash and burn in the privacy of her own apartment. However, her mother had warned her that as soon as her father returned from his hunting trip he’d want to see her. Given his misgivings about her having a relationship of any type with Bryan, she knew this meal would be anything but pleasant. She just hoped that he would wait until after dinner to upbraid her.

Hoping for the best, Callie asked her father about his hunting trip, and they exchanged general pleasantries. The roast chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy and green beans were delicious, and though Callie had little appetite, she enjoyed the comfort food. Addie and Cynthia did their best to help and talked animatedly about everything they could think of. They related anecdotes about school and cheerleading, and relayed gossip about various classmates and even a few teachers. Callie was grateful for their ability to fill the awkward silences with incessant chatter. Her brain whirring with confusion, she contributed little to the conversation. Then just when she thought they’d get through the meal without any fireworks, Jesse looked at her pointedly and asked about the tabloid story.

Resigned to her fate, Callie responded with a cheerful optimism she didn’t feel, “Daddy, I don’t think it’s going to be a big deal. The reporters seem to have left yesterday, and I haven’t seen anything else about it on the news,” Callie answered, hoping against hope that he’d be satisfied with her answer and leave the matter alone. But of course this was only the first salvo of what was bound to be a long drawn-out disputation.

“Yeah, Daddy,” Cynthia piped up, “the reporters probably left to cover Lainie Ellison’s disappearance. You know that girl on the TV show High School Blues. They say she was probably kidnapped for ransom. Her daddy’s the richest producer in Hollywood. He developed the show just for her. It’s been on the news since yesterday evening. Everybody’s talking about it.” Despite their youth, Callie’s sisters understood the pressure she was under and made an effort to help with diversionary tactics.

Jesse ignored Cynthia’s comment and stared down the table at Callie. “Do you really think people are going to forget that horrible story, not to mention seeing naked pictures…?” he asked incredulously.

“That wasn’t me!” Callie interrupted, “Daddy, you know I’d never allow those kinds of pictures!” Callie felt the heat rise in her face. Though she knew the photos were fake, everyone else would assume they were seeing her nude body.

Jesse took a deep breath. “I know it wasn’t you, but everybody else thinks it was,” he replied in a calmer tone.

“No, everybody doesn’t, Daddy. The people who know me, they know better. Folks all over town are telling me…”

“That’s the point,” he bellowed. “Everybody doesn’t know you! I can’t believe you’re trying to play this whole thing off like it’s some type of joke. Seems to me that you’re just making excuses so you can go on seeing that boy. Just like always, another white man had his fun, and the black woman is branded a whore while he moves on and finds himself one of his own kind to marry! Didn’t I tell you better?”