Rock Star (28 page)

Callie’s lowered her head as the tears ran silently down her cheeks. “I’m not seeing him anymore,” she murmured softly.

“What?”

Calllie raised her voice, though still barely above a whisper. “I said, I’m not seeing him anymore. The relationship is over.” Through her veil of tears Callie could see the hurt and pain masked with anger in her father’s eyes. She couldn’t help recalling other times in her life when she’d seen similar emotions reflected in their obsidian depths. When she was five, he’d been teaching her to ride a bicycle and she’d somehow gotten away from him. An oncoming car had caused her to brake suddenly and she’d fallen off the bicycle and broken her arm. When her father caught up with her, he’d blustered in anger and yelled at her for riding away, even though she could see tears shimmering in his eyes as he inspected the damage she’d done to her arm. When she was in high school, he’d remonstrated against her accepting a date with Timothy Little, the object of her eleventh-grade crush. Of course, she’d impulsively agreed to go out with him and had been devastated when he stood her up. Her father had raged for days and reminded her that he’d told her that Timothy’s folks were no account, and that Timothy was no good. Then as now, she could see her own pain mirrored in his eyes, but he’d never admit it. Covering his concern with anger was simply the way her father coped, and over the years they’d all learned to understand and accept it, at least most of the time.

“Well, hell, the damage is done now, isn’t it?” he snapped. “Everybody thinks my daughter is a whore. Did you think about how your mother and I feel? How about your sisters. Don’t you think they’re going to be teased at school?” Jesse exclaimed belligerently.

Cynthia and Addie gasped and whirled in unison to challenge Jesse’s statement, but they were quelled by a sharp glance from their mother.

Edith Lawson had had enough. “Jesse, can’t you see the girl is upset? Do you really think you’re helping the situation any?”

Jesse wasn’t ready to back down. “Edith, I can’t believe you’re questioning me on this. Didn’t you tell me that Sheriff Graham Cracker himself came by to question Callie about running a prostitution ring?” Jesse blustered, using yet another one of the sheriff’s derogatory monikers. “God only knows what’s going on with that boy, and they’ve dragged your daughter’s name through the mud and you’re yelling at me?” His jaw tightening in consternation, Jesse stared at his wife as if she’d suddenly become deranged.

“Jesse, I didn’t raise my voice once. You know nobody takes that so-called sheriff seriously. He only came by for political purposes. Anybody with any sense knows nobody would run a prostitution ring out of this town. Now, I understand you’re upset, but Callie is a grown woman and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. I agree that this is a terrible thing, but neither of them is at fault here,” she responded in a reasoning, conciliatory tone. “Callie is going through a tough time, and she needs all our support.”

“It most certainly is his fault,” Jessie replied insistently. “He promised he’d take care of our child, and this is what happened. But you’re on his side anyway. All he had to do was play nice during Christmas dinner and buy her some books and you suddenly think he’s the best thing since sliced bread,” he continued, annoyed that anyone would question his support for his oldest child. “And did I ever say I didn’t support her? Did I? I just didn’t want the girl branded a white man’s whore in front of the whole country. Is that too much to ask?”

“Jesse, she said she’s not seeing him anymore. Isn’t that enough?”

Callie tilted her head back against the chair and rubbed her hands over her eyes, trying to stop the flood of tears. It seemed that she’d spent the past few days doing nothing but crying. Things had always come so easily for her. She’d never really had any serious upsets to cry about before now, but apparently now she was going to get a lifetime’s worth of misery in one fell swoop. Nobody seemed to understand that she loved Bryan and her heart was breaking in two. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Her father seemed to be so fixated on getting his “I told you so” in that apparently her feelings didn’t matter. The throbbing in her head still hadn’t eased up, and her misery increased with each word her father spoke. Finally, she had to speak up or drown under the weight of her despondency.

“Daddy, I made a mistake. I should’ve listened to you. You’re right. Are you happy now? I messed up, and I dragged the whole family through the mud. All right? You have your pound of flesh,” she whispered hoarsely. It took everything she had to keep from screaming out her anguish. “Can we leave it alone now? I’m really tired, and I simply can’t take this.” Shaking so hard she could barely stand, Callie moved away from the table. She nodded toward her mother. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I embarrassed you, I didn’t mean to,” she whispered. She coughed as her throat tightened. This was too much. “Mama, I’m sorry, I know I’m being rude, but may I be excused? I’m going home.” With that she moved slowly towards the front door, without waiting for her mother’s response. The rest of the family sat in stunned silence until they heard the door close quietly behind her.

Jesse sighed as Edith, Addie, and Cynthia gave him disapproving looks. Being the sole male in a house full of women could be heaven or it could be hell. He’d screwed up on an unprecedented scale and wondered how long hell would last this time. His women could turn this house into a fortress and shut him out for weeks, barely speaking to him. All the little niceties he had grown accustomed to, like the girls bringing him his slippers or keeping dinner warm for him, would disappear in a flash, leaving him to fend for himself. After so many years of pampering, it was an impossible adjustment to make. They had him on tenterhooks, and they knew it.

Even Addie, who’d always been a “daddy’s girl” was looking at him as if he’d just kicked a kitten. Well, he had to admit, in a way he had. He’d never seen Callie look so wretched, and he should’ve left the situation alone. But it still angered him that she’d allowed herself to be used that way, even after he’d warned her of the probable consequences. Feeling impotent to do anything about his child’s pain, he’d done the boneheaded thing and struck out in anger. He sighed to himself. Easy enough to figure that out now, but why hadn’t he realized that before he attacked her that way?

He stood up, moving towards the closet to get his jacket. “I’m going to apologize to Callie. I really put my foot in it.”

Addie gave him a wide-eyed stare, her luminous brown eyes deep pools of concern. “You want me to go with you, Daddy?” she asked, afraid that he would lose his temper again. She couldn’t believe that her precious daddy had been so mean to Callie. Since the story came out, their telephone had rung incessantly with friends calling to get the scoop. There was bound to be vicious gossip in school, but she and Cynthia knew that Bryan and Callie were in love, and they stood firmly behind their big sister.

Jesse tugged gently at one of her braids. “Nope, that’s quite all right, little doll. I’ve eaten crow before. I know just how to season it.”

“Damn, dude, you look like something Dr. Frankenstein wouldn’t dig up. What the hell happened to you?” Harley Joseph stood in the doorway of his dressing room. He narrowed his piercing green eyes and peered into Bryan’s reddened pupils. Then he looked hurriedly past Bryan to Jon. “Jesus Christ, man! Is he using?”

Bryan punched him in the shoulder. “Damn, man, I’m not dead yet! You don’t have to act like I’m not here.” His body shuddered as he was assaulted by another racking cough. “And no, I’m not using. What the hell made you ask such a thing?”

Harley gave him a speaking glance. “Obviously you haven’t looked in a mirror lately. Here, man, sit down before you fall down. These cheap bastards would probably make me clean up the mess if you dropped dead in my dressing room.” He pulled out a chair from the table. Accustomed to the lavish spending typical for a hit television show, Harley had not yet adapted to the shoestring budget of a long-standing production like Saturday Night Live.

Bryan sat down gratefully as he was seized by yet another coughing attack.

Harley looked up at Jon again. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be performing this weekend? This guy sounds like he needs to be in the hospital. I don’t want him to upstage me by dying in the middle of the show,” Harley added facetiously, only half in jest.

Finding no other chairs available in the tiny space, Jon sat down on the table. “I think he’s just got a cold. He’ll be all right if he gets some rest. He hasn’t been sleeping since that crazy story came out.”

Harley nodded. “Yeah man, that’s a mess there. What the hell happened? I know you haven’t had much long-term success with the ladies, but when did you start resorting to call girls? Last time I saw you, you and Chasdity had hooked up. Surely you didn’t blow that relationship up too?”

Bryan gave him a disgusted look, “Callie is not a call girl! Your good friend Chasdity made all that crap up and gave it to the tabloid,” Bryan rasped, reminding Harley that he’d introduced him to the starlet.

Harley winced, idly scratching his blonde head. “Well, you know what they say about a woman scorned. She didn’t seem particularly upset when I left L.A. What the hell did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything to her and she sure as hell wasn’t scorned,” Bryan replied, contempt dripping from every syllable. “Hell, she dumped me!”

Harley pursed his lips in confusion, a particularly arresting gesture in such a saturnine face. “Interesting. Chasdity’s been around a while. She knows the score; she has no problem with the pay-to-play routine. That’s why I passed her on to you. I figured that was one even you couldn’t mess up. So what brought out her vicious streak?”

“I don’t know. The only thing I can figure is she got pissed off about a confrontation she had with Callie at the pre-tribute party. As usual, she blew it way out of proportion. It wasn’t that big a deal. God, I hate melodramatic people.”

Harley sobered, giving Bryan and Jon an encompassing glance. “Sorry I couldn’t get back to the Left Coast for that. The shooting schedule for the show is a real bitch.”

“No problem, we knew the deal.” Bryan started coughing again, his shoulders shaking with the effort.

Harley waited until the coughing fit eased up. “So who is this Callie? If she’s not a call girl, where is she? Even you couldn’t have destroyed it this quickly. I saw the pictures.” He gave Bryan a knowing look. “Nice tits, but I always took you for an ass man.”

“Those aren’t her breasts!” Bryan hissed through his teeth. “She’s not some groupie, she’s my girl, so don’t talk about her that way.”

Harley raised both hands defensively, leaning back away from Bryan’s vehemence, “Oh. Sorry, man. Hell, I didn’t know.” He looked over at Jon. “Whupped, huh?”

Jon nodded. “Totally.”

All three laughed as Bryan made no attempt to deny it.

Bryan made an encompassing gesture towards the dressing room. “What the hell are you doing here anyway? Why aren’t you back in L.A. helping Myron deal with Lainie’s kidnapping?” Myron Ellison and Harley were long-time friends. In addition to Lainie’s show High School Blues, Myron also produced The Shelter.

Harley made a moué of distaste, “Kidnapping, my ass! Don’t talk to me about that spoiled little bitch. Myron should’ve beaten her ass a long time ago! She probably had herself kidnapped or ran off with some drug dealer or something. Besides, I’ve bailed on this show one time too many. I had to do it this time; I ran out of lies.”

Bryan shook his head. Harley had told him about Lainie’s repeated attempts to get him into bed. Even if Harley had been stupid enough to ignore the age difference and possible statutory rape charge just for a young piece, he certainly wasn’t prepared to give up his long-time friendship with Myron for it. Lainie had always been a brat. He hoped for her sake that this was just another one of her ridiculous stunts.

Harley returned to the subject of greatest interest, Bryan’s love life. “Where is the lovely Callie? If she’s got you in this kind of shape, I know you didn’t leave her behind in L.A. for all the other coyotes to get their hands on her.”

Bryan rested his chin on his hand. “She doesn’t live in L.A., so at least I don’t have to worry about that, but she won’t talk to me. All this stuff was too much for her. I think she’s dumped me.”

Harley was puzzled by Bryan’s response. “You think she’s dumped you? Well, that’s nothing new. They all dump you eventually. I don’t get it. Women go nuts for you. They say you’ve got a face like a fallen angel, but your bedside manner couldn’t be more Neanderthal if you shaved your back. So, I’m not surprised you got dumped again, but don’t they usually do it to your face? Why don’t you know whether she’s dumped you or not?”

“I told you, she won’t talk to me.” Bryan didn’t bother to dispute Harley’s comments about his romantic track record. Harley had been his friend for a while, and pretty much everything he’d said was true.

Harley snorted. “Like that’s ever stopped you before!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, man, we’re trying to wrap up a tour here.” He nodded significantly at Jon. “I can’t just take off to see what’s going on with Callie. We’ve got a few more dates after we leave here, and then I’m going back to Alabama to see her. I’m going to get her to talk to me.” He gave Harley a wry glance. “Besides, why are you so fixated on my love life? Hell, at least I’m not sneaking around to see my lady!”

Harley’s complexion blanched under his light tan. “What the hell…” he began, then seeing Bryan’s smug smile, decided he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking how he’d acquired his information. Bryan couldn’t know too much. For once in his life heactually been reasonably discreet, and he’d thought he and the lady in question were the only parties privy to their relationship. He grinned back at his pal, indicating that there would definitely be a reckoning at a later date. The poor guy wasn’t up to it right now. It would hardly be sporting. But when he got on his feet again…