Sheet Music - A Rock 'n' Roll Love Story (58 page)

“But, that’s what it is.”

“Okay, call it whatever you want.”

“You can package it anyway you want, but I’m still not interested.”

“Why not?” she asked, waving her arms into the air and stepping closer to him.  “Most men would think they had died and gone to heaven with an offer like this.”

Michael rested against the door frame and brought the bottle of whiskey up to his lips again.  “I’m not most men, Barb.  To me you were and always will be, Brian’s wife and I’ve got no intention of fucking my best friend’s wife for the sport of it.  Okay?  Besides, I told you, I love my wife and I will not jeopardize what I have with her again.”

He stepped through the doorway and into the kitchen then grimaced from the light.

“Where are you going?” she asked, following him to the door.

“Under the circumstances, I should probably leave.”

“I don’t want you to.”

He shook his head.  “I’m thinking it’s best I go home and spend some time with my wife and kid.  I haven’t done much of that lately and I know it’s really bothering Annie that I haven’t.”

Barbara’s eyes filled with tears.  She was jealous of what he had with Annie.  “She’s a very lucky woman.”

“No, I’m the lucky one,” Michael said.

“Will you still come by from time to time to see me? He kissed her lightly on the cheek.  Yeah, but not every day like I have been.  That’s probably not good for either of us.”

Barbara touched her cheek where his lips had just been.  “Am I still allowed to lust after you,” she smiled.

He laughed.  “You’re free to think whatever you want but I don’t want to know about it.  Agreed?”

Reluctantly, she nodded.

The bottle of whiskey was nearly empty by the time Michael arrived home.  By then he could barely navigate the hallway into the kitchen.  Miraculously, he found the couch in the family room and passed-out.  It was mid-morning before he woke to the sounds of a baby crying.

“Jesus Christ,” he complained, pushing himself upright and holding onto his head.

Annie glared at him from the doorway, trying to quiet Sammi with a bottle, but not having much luck.  “Rough night?” she asked coldly.

“No, not really.  I just need some coffee and a shower and I’ll be fine.”

She studied his movements in the kitchen.  He seemed different.  If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he had been drinking.  The thought of which made her shudder.  If that was true, she would not tolerate it, especially with a baby in the house.

He disappeared upstairs to shower.  After covering his cast in plastic, he stepped beneath the spray and let it run cold.  He thought about Annie and the baby.  His baby.  With them in his life, he had everything he had always wanted.  It had taken him a lifetime to find her and, now that she was in his life, he seemed to lack the skills at keeping her.  She was the most important thing in his life and he was driving her away.  He hated the way she looked at him now.  The light in her eyes was gone.

He fell against the shower wall.  His life was spiraling all around him and he felt powerless to stop it.  He wanted peace.  He wanted Annie and he wanted to love the little girl they had created.

He got out of the shower hell bent on spending the day with his family.  He’d do whatever she wanted: lunch in the city, a trip to the beach, or to the park.  He didn’t care what they did as long as they were all together.  But when he got downstairs, Bonita informed him they had already left for the afternoon.

He wandered aimlessly around the empty house.  His heart was heavy with a feeling of despair, continuously washing over him in waves; as it churned in his guts and threatened to consume him.  He felt desperate, as if his life depended on leaving the house.

The next thing he knew he was sitting in the parking lot of a liquor store, unaware of how he had gotten there.  He wondered if he was losing his mind or perhaps he already had.  He paid for the whiskey and found his way to the beach.  It was a secluded spot he and Brian had found years earlier.  It was there they would escape from the confining walls of the studio and create music in the open air.  As far as Michael knew, no one else knew where the spot was.

He removed his leather coat and rolled it into a pillow and lay down in the sand.  He watched the sun go down in a ball of flame behind the tree line behind him and cracked the seal of the bottle of whiskey.  He was dozing when the sound of his cell phone roused him.  He hoped it was Annie and quickly answered it.

“Hey, Mike, it’s me,” Barbara said.

“What’s up,” he replied, annoyed it was her and not Annie.

“I was hoping you’d come by tonight.”

“No.  I told you last night I didn’t think it was a good idea I come by every day,” he answered, filling his mouth with the whiskey.

“You sound funny,” she said.

“It’s been a long day and I’m tired.  Did you want something?” he asked, anxious to get her off the phone.

“Are you home?”

“No.  Why?”

Barbara listened to the background noises and heard the ocean surf, then she heard seagulls.  She knew without asking he was at the beach.  “I won’t keep you,” she said.  “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t mad at me for last night.”

“Nope.”

“Good.  Then I’ll talk to you later.”

He woke up to the gentle rocking of Barbara’s hand.  She was squatting in the sand next to Michael’s chest.  He jumped upright when his eyes focused.  “Jesus Christ!  How the hell did you know I was here?”

“I heard the ocean over the phone and knew you were at the beach, but not just any beach.  I knew in my gut you'd be at
this
beach.”

“I didn’t think anyone knew about this place except me and Brian.”

“Yeah, well I guess he didn't keep
all
your secrets to himself.”

He lifted himself up on one elbow. “Why’d you come?”

“You sounded like you needed company,” Barbara replied.

“Actually, I came here to be alone.”

“And drink?”

“Why?  Did you come here to try and save my soul?” Michael asked.

“No.  I came here to make sure you were okay.”

His head rolled to the side and faced her “I’m fine.  Really.”

Barbara relaxed her body and sat beside him in the sand.  “Listen, I’m sorry about last night.”

“Let it go, Barb.  I’ve already forgotten about it.”

“I was worried you might have done something crazy like go home and tell Annie what happened.”

“Nothing happened.  You grabbed my balls.  It’s not like you had them in your mouth.”

Barbara smiled.  “That’s a nice visual, Michael.”

“Maybe so, but that’s all it will ever be - a visual.”

She scanned the ocean and the late summer sky.  “I bet the water is warm.”

“I wouldn’t know.  I haven’t moved from this spot since I got here.”

Barbara stood and began unbuttoning her blouse.

“What are you doing?” he asked, catching the articles of clothing she continued to toss at him.

“I’m going swimming.  Care to join me?” she asked, as she removed her panties and used them like a sling-shot at his face.  The garment grazed the top of his head then fell behind him, landing on his leather coat.

“No, and you shouldn’t go either.  There’s an undertow out there and I’m in no condition to swim out and save your ass if you get into trouble.”

Barbara turned her bare backside to him and began walking toward the waters edge.

“Hey!  I’m serious.  Get the hell back here.”

Barbara turned and jogged back to him.  “Wow, you sound like you actually care,” she started as she knelt in the sand facing him.

“Of course I do.  You’re my best friend’s wife.”

“Not anymore.”

“In my mind you are,” he answered, closing his eyes.

She studied his stretched frame in the sand.  His legs were long and muscled, crossed at the ankle and encased in tight jeans faded from years of use.  His torso was covered in a casual black long sleeve shirt, rolled up to the elbows, untucked and unbuttoned to the middle of his chest.  He looked magnificent in the dim light of the rising moon.

Without thinking, she slid over and straddled his hips.  His eyes flew open in shock.

“What are you doing?” he asked coldly.

Her fingers went to his shirt and began undoing the buttons.  He fumbled with his one good arm to stop her.  “Knock the shit off,” he slurred.

She bent forward, her face hovering above his.  “Why?  I can tell you like it.  You’re getting hard.”

“Probably because you’re grinding against me.  Don’t assume that means I want to fuck you, because I don’t.”

“You don’t or you won’t?”

“Both.  Now get off of me before one of us gets hurt.”

As he began to sit upright, Barbara slid her hands around his ribcage and onto the skin of his back.

“Come on, Mike,” she purred against his temple and rubbing the muscles of his back. “Just one time.  Would that be so terrible?”

His eyes blinked as he tried to focus on her face.  “I told you last night, it isn’t going to happen.  Now, get off and put your clothes back on.”

As the words left his mouth, he began pushing her off his thighs.  When he did, she dug her fingernails into his flesh trying to hold on and, in the process, left four-inch scratches on both sides of his ribs.  He screamed in agony and thrust her onto the sand.

“You crazy bitch!” he screamed.

He staggered to his feet and turned to survey the damage on his body.  “Great!  I’m bleeding now.”

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean…”

“The hell you didn’t,” he interjected.  Then his eyes connected with hers.  They were cold and angry.  “Put your clothes on and get the hell out of here.”

She stood motionless, almost afraid to move.

“What part of that didn’t you understand?” he asked, wiping the blood from his skin with his shirt.

“Michael…”

“Give me a break, Barb.  I’ve got enough problems in my life right now.  Do you really think I want to screw it up even more than it already is by getting involved with you?  If I was looking for sex I’d be home with my wife.”

“Ah, yes.  Your perfect wife.  She’ll be so proud of you when she hears you turned me down.”

Michael spun around and faced her.  “Don't go there,” he spat.  “If anything, you should be thrilled I finally found someone that makes me
want
to be faithful.”

He started handing the discarded clothes to her.  “Can’t you let it go so we can go back to being friends?  I was happy being friends.  But I hate this shit you’re laying on me now.  We’ve known each other way too long for this bullshit.”

Barbara finished dressing.  “Fine.  Go back to your beautiful wife, Michael.  I hope you make a dozen more babies and get fat together.”

She began to walk off and then stopped.  “By the way, I couldn’t find my panties.  If you find them, you can keep them as a souvenir.”

Michael watched until he could no longer see her walking on the pathway back to the cars.  His ribs ached and so did his brain.  He found the bottle of whiskey in the sand and raised it to his mouth then lay back down.  He thought of Annie.  Starting tomorrow, they were going to get their lives back on track.  Everything would be different in the morning, he thought, and drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“What do you mean he didn’t come home last night?” Barbara questioned Annie.

“Don’t play me for a fool, damn it!  I know he’s there.  Go wake him up and put him on the phone,” Annie demanded.

“I swear to you, he isn’t here.  I saw him last night around eight o’clock and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

Annie spun around at the sound of the front door slamming.  “Never mind.  He just crawled in.”  She hung up the phone before Barbara could reply.

Michael swayed on his feet, focused quickly when he saw Annie approaching, and started up the stairs.

She followed him into their bedroom.  “Where the hell have you been?  I was worried sick!”

“Please don’t start, Annie,” he slurred, more from exhaustion than inebriation.

“You’re covered in sand,” she remarked.

“Probably because I slept on the beach.”

“Why would you do that?”

Michael stepped directly into her face.  “I went there to clear my head and ended up falling asleep.  I’m sorry I worried you.”

Annie covered her mouth with her hand.  Tears quickly pooled in her eyes.  “My God, you’ve been drinking,” she said, her voice cracking and her fingers trembling.

“You’re right, I have,” he answered flatly, as he struggled out of his shirt and tossed it onto the floor.  When he turned toward the bathroom, Annie saw his ribs.  Several long, red lines marred his dark skin.  Her head began to spin and her knees buckled.  She fell against the doorframe for support.

“Michael?”

He stopped and faced her, undoing his jeans.

“Where did you get the scratches on your sides?”

“I don’t know, probably from sleeping on the beach,” he replied, heading into the bathroom.

She followed him.  “Are you sure you didn’t get them from sleeping with Barbara?”

“I swear to you, I didn’t sleep with her,” he answered, stepping into the shower.  “Let me take a shower and then we’ll talk.  Okay?”

Annie waited on the bed.  Her head blurred with irrational thoughts.  He was drinking again and had unexplained scratches on his skin.  Did she need more proof then that before she threw in the towel and left him? With tears spilling rapidily, her eyes drifted to the sandy pile of clothing he left on the carpet.  Then she saw his leather coat hanging on the doorknob of the closet.  Beneath it, there appeared to be a piece of white lace sitting on the rug.  Slowly, she approached it and used her toe to see what it was.  She gasped loudly and fell back toward the bed.  Part of her wanted to run; another part wanted to stay and hurt him.  When he got out of the shower, she was filling suitcases with her things.

“What are you doing?” he asked in shock.

“What the hell does it look like?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I refuse to live like this!  I told you back in March what would happen if I caught you cheating.  And to make matters worse, you’re drinking again.  How much of this bullshit do you think I’m going to take?  I can’t stand around and watch you slowly kill yourself.  I’m done.  It’s over, Michael.”