Tracks (Rock Bottom) (11 page)

I feel warm arms
slide around me. I hadn’t realized I was trembling so badly, on the verge of breaking down into a serious cry. I almost never cry.

“Dylan!” Theresa h
olds me. “It’s going to be ok.”

I
feel insanely embarrassed and terrible for putting this on her. “Oh Theresa, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok! I think it’s kind of exciti
ng! What’s wrong?” She pulls away from me and I look at her from under my lashes. Her eyes are light and happy. She
is
actually excited.

I
move my head completely back to look straight up at her. When she sees my whole face her smile disappears and her eyes show fear. “They are horrible,” I cry out. “They’re mean. They’re like vultures.”

“Dylan
, your face,” Theresa says, putting a soft hand on my cheek. “I’ll get you some ice.” Theresa walks towards the kitchen.

Rich hangs up the phone. “Miss Dylan,” he says, softly. I turn to him. “I called the local police. They are going to clear the front of your house. I also asked them to have more officers put at the show. I’m really sorry about this.” He looks guilty.

“Oh Rich, it’s not your fault,” I say shakily. I sniff and stand straighter. I know he needs to get back to control the group at the show. “Be back at 7:30?”

He smiles.
“Of course.”

He turns and open
s the door enough to get himself out. After he manages to squeeze through the small opening, he slams the door behind him. I lock the top lock. I can still hear people outside, screaming and clicking.

I turn with my back on
the door, and start sliding down onto the floor. I feel overwhelmed and exhausted. Theresa walks in with ice wrapped in a towel and hands it to me before she sits on the floor next to me.

We sit in silence for a few minutes w
hile I hold the ice on my cheek. We don’t look at each other or speak. Theresa was always like that. She could always read me, and she always knew when I just needed a minute to rest or collect my thoughts. I’m happy to have a best friend that’s so in tune with me. The thought calms me a little bit.

Finally, she turns her head towards me. I feel her eyes on me, and
I turn my head to look at her.

She gives me a
slight smile. “Is it worth it?”

I look ahead of me for a minute.
Is it worth it? Considering the last half hour or so, it’s a valid question. Not to mention I have absolutely no idea what direction this relationship is going in. And I know I’m failing very hard, very fast.

I close my eyes, and
in my mind I see Jeremy with his hand above him, back arched, holding his guitar on stage. Eyes closed and sweat dripping down his perfect face. His hand comes down on his instrument and he strums, the noise filling my ears. The memory sends shock waves through me.

I turn back to Theresa, not being able to control my smile.
“Oh yeah, totally worth it.” My voice is steady now.

We both laugh.

She gets up from the floor and holds out both of her hands towards me. I grab them as she pulls me up. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I say to her. “Be right back.”

“Ok,” she says.

I walk down the hall and into the bathroom. I shut the door and look into the mirror over the sink. I’m taken aback by how I look. My blue blouse is disheveled. My hair is a mess. I have streaks of tears down my cheeks, one pale and one rosy from the slap. I sigh and decide I just should get in the shower. The warm water will help me calm down.

I pull my blue blouse off and slide off my jeans. I turn the water on and test
it with my hands, allowing it to get hot. I slide off my underwear and bra and slip into my shower, shutting the white curtain.

I let the warm water run over my face, thinking. I meant what I said that I think it
’s all worth it, but this isn’t something I could ever get used to. I’m hoping that maybe they are just following me around because I’m new, and within a few days they’ll leave me alone. There’s even a good chance, I think as my stomach knots, that after a few days
he
will leave me alone. As the press has said, he’s with a lot of women. I wonder if he says the things he says to me to all the women he’s with.

I hear a light knock at the door. I sigh. “Come in,” I say. I hear t
he door open and someone sit on the toilet seat.

“
Sooooo??” Theresa said. “Before all of the madness with the press?”

I pull my face out of the water stream.
“Sooo amazing!” I say. We giggle.

“Did you do any
thing?”

I describe
in embarrassing detail my day.

“Oh my God, Dylan,” Theresa says, shocked. “I am so jealous!
So you’re going back tonight?”

“Yes,” I said. I feel myself blushing. “Theresa, I
think this night might be it.”

Theresa gasps. “Girl, get out of the shower.
We’re going to get you ready.”

“Well get out of here an
d let me finish in the shower.”

I hear The
resa stand.

“By the way,” she says as she op
ens the door. “I got us a job.”

I gasp.
“No way!” I squirt the shampoo into my hands and lather up my hair. “Where? How?”

“At the college
bookstore. We start early September. I met someone at Miranda’s party when I crashed there the other night. He was able to pull some strings.”

I’m placing the conditioner on
my hair. “Another one nighter?”

“No, actually, I’m going out with him tonight. D
inner,” she says, nonchalantly.

“You?
A date?” I say, in mock horror.

“You?
Sex?” she says in the same voice. I laugh as she shuts the door.

Left alone in
the shower, my mind starts to wander, and I feel myself slowly being to panic. I’ve never been self-confident. How am I supposed to pull this off? It’s been over 3 years since I’ve been with anyone. And he was just an average boy, literally the boy-next-store. Not to mention the fact that it always lasted 5 minutes or less and seemed like a chore more than enjoyable. I’ve never been with someone this experienced, or sexy, or a rock star…obviously.

I spend way longer than normal in the shower. I’m trying not to hyperventilate as I rub my body down with soap, twice, and then shave my entire body. Then I rub my body down with soap twice again.
As I do that, I examine myself. My hips look abnormally huge, my stomach bulges more than I remember. I have faint white stretch marks on my thighs that I swear weren’t there before. Then again, I never needed to examine myself like this before.

My breathing is short and fast. I certainly don’t look like the girls in the magazines. Sud
denly, I’m not sure if my size 10 is skinny enough, and I secretly wish to be a size zero for the first time ever. I’ve never been obsessed with being thin or beautiful, but now it’s different. What if I don’t turn him on enough?

I get out of the shower as I try to calm my breathing. ‘Coward,’ I thoug
ht. ‘You can do this.’ I wrap my hair in a towel and wrap my body in a separate one. After I rub myself down with lotion, I turn off the light and walk into my bedroom, where I hear Theresa rummaging through my closet.

“You have nothing in here that’s sexy,” sh
e said, not turning towards me.

“Never had a rea
son to.” I plop down on my bed.

Theresa turns and
looks at me on the bed. I stare back at her as she assesses me.

“I have a really awesome dress from
college that would look amazing on you. And it was big on me…”

Theresa is a size six.
I’d be amazed if it fit, but I think I’ll humor her.

Theresa goes into her room for a short minute and runs back in
with something thrown over her left arm. She stops and holds up a spectacular dress. It’s a dark gold color, with tiny sequins covering every inch of the fabric. It’s strapless and very short, with a silver zipper showing down the back. I smile, watching it sparkle in the lights in the bedroom. It’s very rock-and-roll.

I sigh. “It’s perfect. I just don’t see how it’s going to fit.”
But I want it to. Bad.

I stand up from the bed and walk over to my dresser. I pull out a black thong and a black strapless bra. They are very plain but I don’t have much in the way of sexy underwear. I ne
ver thought I’d need it before.

“I really think it will fit. Here,” Theresa says, holding
the dress down low. “Step in.”

I carefully step into the dress as Theresa pulls it up over me. Wow is it short, but my legs look good since I’ve shaved and soaped and moisturized a dozen times.
She pulls the dress around me tightly and I hear it zip in the back. Wow, I guess it must fit.

I turn around to look at Theresa. She has a funny look on her face. Her eyes are
wide and she’s smiling. “What?”

“Dylan, you look a
mazing. Go look in the mirror.”

I step around her
and shut the door to my bedroom, exposing the full length mirror behind it. I’m shocked at my reflection. My legs do look good, and when I have heels on they’ll elongate much more. The dress really shows my hourglass shape; how my hips are rounded and my waist is smaller. The top is a little tight because my breasts are large and Theresa’s not as fortunate, but it makes my breast flatten and pop against my chest, exposing cleavage. It’s as if the dress was made for me. I sparkle as I move. The gold makes the gold specks in my eyes stand out, and I can almost bear to look at them in the mirror because they look so different.

“I love it, There
sa. Thank you,” I say, quietly.

“He’ll love it, too. I am so…f
reaking…jealous,” she says and smiles. She sighs. “Get out of the dress; I have to do your hair and make-up.”

As Theresa begins the tedious task of trying to make me sexy, our home phone rings.
Theresa hops over to my bed stand and picks up the portable phone. She looks at the caller-ID and hands the phone to me, whispering “Dad.”

I answer the phone, “Hey Dad
.”

“Hi Sweetie
. I have some questions for you,” he says, in an almost disappointed voice. Uh oh.

Theresa starts work on my hair, pulling on it with a comb. I switch hands and put the phone back up to my ear. “Wh
at’s up?”

“I can tell,”
he begins, “that already you are distracted out there in Boston. Maybe you should have moved into a dorm. Maybe it’s not good to live with Theresa. I mean, out all night with shirtless musicians? Not very becoming of a Harvard Law student. What will the other influential students and professors think?”

I sig
h. “Where are you seeing this?”

“Honey, you’ve been on t
he news for the past two days.”

My stomach knots. I feel the burning
starting in my stomach. Who is he to judge me? Especially with his history? I don’t think so. “Dad, listen. I have to go. I’m busy and I don’t have time to defend myself against this ridiculous media frenzy. We’re friends right now, just having fun. Starting slow. Relax. I love you,” I say and hang the phone up.

I
look up at Theresa. She winces, but continues her work.

Theresa really is
a wiz with a straightener, hair spray, and eye-liner. By the time she’s done, my usually flat blonde hair is sleek against the sides of my head, while the middle comes up in a poof and an arch, creating an almost Mohawk effect. My eyes and eye shadow are like black smoke, bringing out my eyes even more. My skin is flawless, and I have a faint glow. You can’t even see the mark from the slap anymore. My lips are just a clear shine. When I smile, they sparkle like my dress.

After I stand
up from the bed and put the dress back on, I do a little twirl. Theresa claps. “Perfect! I am a genius!”

I hear a knock at the door. I slide my
gold high heels on, also compliments of Theresa, and head for the door. I decide not to take a purse and to store money in my bra instead. One of the many perks to being big breasted. It’s a perfect August night tonight, so thankfully I don’t have to wear a jacket.

I check my watch. 7:20. ‘Good thing I was prepared,’ I think as I put my ear to the door, straining to hear if there
are sounds of flashing cameras or news reporters. This is where a peep hole would come in handy. I don’t hear anything, so I unlock the top lock and pull the door towards me.

I stop in shock. My mouth drops open. Je
remy is standing in front of me, with 6 police officers and 3 big African American men, including Rich, behind him. I hear Theresa behind me whistle. “Holy shit,” she says, under her breath.

Jeremy’s eyes widen for a minute when he sees me. His eyes trace up and down my body. I blush immediately, please
d that he seems to like what he sees. But his face quickly goes back to stern, almost angry. He looks glorious like that, of course. The blue of his eyes burn into me, his lips almost pouting. His stubble is almost back, making my heart flutter. He has on red plaid pants and black van sneakers. As a shirt, he wears a plain black vest, with nothing underneath. His muscular arms are crossed in front of his chest. I see the snake tattoo crawling up his right arm.