A Beautiful Rock (2 page)

I could have been nice. I could have just told her she was right. But I couldn’t seem to make myself.

Fuck I’m an arsehole…

***

All night, I toss and turn. It’s not that I’m having nightmares or anything, I just can’t sleep. Seeing Naomi again has really unsettled me. I keep replaying our conversation over and over in my mind. I hate that everything she said was right.

***

“I need a break, man,” I tell my manager, Craig, over our breakfast meeting the next morning.  “I’m finally back in my home town, and I’m not fucking leaving for at least three months.”

“That’s fine
, mate. We’ll film your music video, and in that time, we can record the next album in the studio. We won’t book any shows after this last one, so you’ll be well and truly ready to hit the road again in three months.” He smiles, and I can tell he’s feeling really confident about what he’s saying. I’ll need to set him straight.

“No. I need a proper break. I’ve been on the road for two years
, and I want three months of nothing
before
the album is recorded.”

His face falls. “Marcus. Come on. We can’t stop now. Three months is a long time in this business.
You’ve got to stay current.”

I reach out and pull a sugar out of the white ceramic holder and tear off the paper tip. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m taking a break.” I drop the sugar in my mug and watch it sink through the foam before stirring it in. When I look back up, Craig is
wide-eyed and gaping at me. “What the fuck do you want from me Craig? I just gave you two years of my life. All I want is three goddamned months. It’s not a lot to ask for.”

“What about all of the interviews and promo
we have lined up?”

“Schedule them for while we’re filming the last video
. They can run them while I’m on a break. I doubt it’s hard.”

“Bloody hell Marcus. I thought you loved touring? What’s changed?”

“I’ve just realised how messed up my priorities have been. I need some time to work through some shit. I don’t even know who I fucking am anymore.”

“
Of course you know who you are. You’re Marcus-fucking-Bailey. You’re a superstar. I've got to tell you mate, you've got me worried here. I don't like the way you're talking.”

I place my hand on his shoulder and give him a reassuring squeeze before slapping him good-naturedly. "Relax Craig. I’m asking for three months
, not the rest of my life."

With that said, I push my chair back as I reach into my pocket and pull out enough money to cover breakfast. "Just m
ake it happen okay?" I instruct, as I drop the money on the table and walk out the door, already feeling a little bit lighter.

Bang, bang, bang.

I pause and switch off the hair dryer to listen.

Bang, bang, bang.

“Damn it,” I say under my breath. Who the hell turns up at someone else's house at 7 o'clock in the morning? I place the hair dryer on the vanity bench top and try to smooth my dark brown hair with my hands so I look somewhat presentable.

My visitor bangs again. "Hang on I'm coming," I call out on my way to the front door.

I peer through the peephole and see my friend Sandra on the other side.

“Open up Lisa. I need your help.”

The moment I turn the lock, she tumbles through the door, almost knocking me off my feet. She turns to me, breathless, her blue eyes wide and looking frantic as she clutches a manila folder to her chest.

“
I need you to do an interview for me," she blurts out immediately.

"What? No way. I'm no reporter," I say, shaking my head as I walk past her to return to the bathroom and continue getting ready
for my actual job — in the advertising department of a national magazine.

She follows me and starts to plead her case
as I decide my hair is dry enough and begin applying my makeup. “Come on, Lisa. I’d do it for you.”

“That’s really awesome, Sandra. But you’d ne
ver have to do it for me - I don't interview people for a living, remember? Why are you so upset about doing the interview anyway? Did you sleep with the guy or something?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately, and my mouth falls open.

“Oh my god. I was joking when I said that!”

She grabs my arms and looks at me pleadingly
, her blue eyes wide and earnest. “Please. It was this random thing I did. It was a year ago, but I’m so embarrassed by it. It happened when I was working for that music show and I don’t want to interview him again.”

“Who was it?”

“Marcus Bailey.”

I shake my head
and pick up my black eyeliner pencil to accentuate my honey coloured eyes. “I have no idea who that is.”

“Which is what I love about you and why I’m asking you. I know you can in
terview someone as famous as he is without going stupid over him.”

“Not taking away from your sexual prowess or anything, but if he’s a famous musician it’s probably more likely that all of the women he sleeps with are just one big blurry face with a pussy.”

Pressing her lips together, she reaches up and pulls her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder and smooths it over as she gives me a slightly unimpressed look. “I don’t care if he remembers me or not. This is about me feeling like a fucktard because I screwed him like a groupie. I'm scared that he'll remember me and expect me to do it again. But I'm even more afraid that he’ll have absolutely no idea who I am. And that will feel
so
much worse.”

“Oh honey,” I say, feeling my resolve slipping.

“Don't feel sorry for me. Just help me out… please?"

I lean toward the mirror and concentrate on applying mascara to lengthen my already dark lashes.  “
I'm not saying no. But why can’t you ask one of the other girls to do it for you?”

“Because, I still want the story.  If I get one of the others to do it then they’ll snag the
by-line too.  Please do it for me.” She holds the folder out while she pouts her full lips and bats her eyelids in her best pleading face.

Reaching out, I take the folder from her. “
Fine.”

“
You'll do it?”

“Yes Sandra. I’ll interview your
rock star for you so you don’t accidently screw him again,” I deadpan.

She throws her arms around my neck and squeals. "I knew I could count on you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What time do I have to be there?"

"In 45 minutes
."

"45 minutes? Are you fucking mental? How the hell am I supposed to get there in time?"

“It’s not far. If you leave now, you’ll make it there with maybe fifteen minutes to spare.”

My eyes bug o
ut and I almost ruin my mascara. “Fucking hell Sandra. This isn’t cool. Why couldn’t you have asked me this last night, instead of dropping it on my lap this morning?” Feeling rushed, I select a pale rose lipstick and run it over my lips before twisting my slightly damp, wavy hair into a bun on top of my head.

I look in the mirror
. That will have to do.

“Because I thought I could do it. But look at me. I’m all splotchy just thinking about it. I’ll fuck it up and start accidently saying ‘cock’ or something.”

As I spritz my perfume in the air and let it fall over me, I take a moment to actually look at her properly. She’s right; she does look all splotchy – to the point where I think she might have given herself hives. Instantly my annoyance dissipates as I realise how distressed she really is.

“I’m sorry for snapping
at you. Just do me a favour? Lock up for me and let reception know that I might be a little late. Tell them I have an appointment or something.”

“Done. Thank you Lisa.”

“Hey, what are best friends for?” I slip my feet into my black peep toe heels, check my appearance in the full-length mirror then grab my bag and car keys and head out the door. As I walk to my car, I open the folder to get the address I need to drive to. The moment I’m in the driver’s seat, I press the voice command button on my phone and tell it to navigate to the studios where Marcus Bailey is supposedly filming a music video.

Great. Just what I need to start my day – a cocky muso who thinks he can bed any woma
n he pleases. After spending two years of my life being the ‘stupid girlfriend’ who didn’t realise she was constantly cheated on, I don’t have much time for womanisers. 

“How many interviews do I have today?” I ask Craig as we leave the set of the latest music video for my single ‘Animals’. We’ve been staging a massive costume party and I’m the entertainment, singing on stage while the partygoers gyrate in front of me. It’s the typical storyline - there’s some hot chick who catches my eye and we’re drawn by each other’s ‘animal magnetism’.

Doing this kind of stuff used to be fun. But
after my recent revelations, I’m just feeling tired of it all. When I first started in this industry, I never dreamed there would come a day when I’d be saying this, but I’m tired of the constant parties. I’m tired of the constant women, and I’m tired of all the fake friends.

To be honest with you
, I miss the days of Matiari. I miss the guys and I miss Naomi. Seeing her the other night really reminded me about everything I used to have. I know she was never really mine, deep down I’ve known that for a long time. But at least she was real - at least back then my whole life was real.

Real. That certainly isn’t what's been in front of me all morning. My ‘love interest’ for the music video is a
plastic Barbie doll looking model with the personality of a gnat.

I’m not even sure what her name is, but she’s been giving me that look all morning. I’m starting to wonder exactly when my music career started being more about sex than music.
When I think back, the sex has always been what I saw as a ‘perk’ of the industry. But it wasn’t my driving force. These days, it seems to be all I do – fuck around. I feel lost. This isn't the life I wanted.

I remember my mother always telling me to be careful what I wished for. I know I wanted this. I wanted to be a rock star. I wanted to be internationally recognised. But now… well, it’s days upon days filled with people organising my time, telling me whatever they think I want to hear.  It’s all hollow and fake and I find myself craving normalcy.

“Five.  They’re happening throughout the day in between shooting. The first one should be here any moment,” Craig explains.

Looking around the room, it’s packed with people, all of them here for me. But, I can count on one hand how may of them are actually my friends.
Zero. So I guess I don't really need a hand for counting at all…

My eyes stop scanning when they land on
someone who looks a little out of place. It’s a woman. I’d guess she’s around five foot eight when she doesn’t have a pair of heels on. She seems out of place in her business attire. She’s wearing a mottled brown business skirt and a crisp white blouse. Dark hair, piled on top of her head, gorgeous eyes – I can see them from where I’m standing because they’re really light and kind of shine out of her. She’s got a nice looking body too. She’s not rake thin like most of the girls I see are. There’s a bit of meat to her, but in a good way if you know what I mean. A guy likes something to grab onto, so curves are hot, and this chick is definitely hot.

She’s rocking the sexy office chick look. I wonder if she’s a lawyer or something,
but notice that the ID around her neck announces she’s press.

Pausing, she opens the folder she’s holding and scrutinizes something inside before scanning the room again with her eyes.
She looks lost. I should go and help her out, but honestly, I’m just enjoying watching her.

S
he moves across the room slowly and elegantly, as she looks for some sort of guidance. Now this is a beautiful woman. You know those women who carry themselves really well? The ones who don’t even know how gorgeous they are? Yeah, that’s what she’s like. I can tell just by the way she's walking. She's not strutting like a lot of these other girls do, and my god it’s sexy as hell.

Craig is saying something to me, but I'm not really paying attention
. I'm too busy waiting to catch her eye. I haven't thought this for a long time, but I want to know this woman – like, really know her – as a person.

The moment our eyes meet, I break into a grin
. All of my prayers just got answered – she doesn’t know who I am…

As I enter the studio, there are people everywhere. Each one seems busy doing something, and I can’t seem to get anyone’s attention to ask where the hell I’m supposed to go.

Slowly, I move across the room. There are two men talking quietly to each other, but as I approach, one of them glances at me and breaks into what most would consider a ‘million dollar smile’.
He’s probably one of the best looking men I've ever laid eyes on. He’s tall and well built, perfectly tanned with cropped blond hair and shining blue eyes, a perfect smile, a strong jaw and a roman nose. He’s the whole package of gorgeousness that women go for. He’s not covered in tattoos and leather, so I don’t think he’s this Marcus guy. I’m thinking he’s got something to do with the actual music video or something.

His eyes scan my body
, and I can tell that he likes what he can see - which is probably why I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. I didn’t come here to get hit on by some model wannabe.

These days,
I'm not a fan of overly attractive men. They always know how good-looking they are, and they always take advantage of women because of it. They seem to think they can do whatever and whomever they choose, just because they were blessed at birth with attractiveness. Well, that's not how it works in my book.

My last boyfriend was one of those beautiful men that women fawn all over. I was stupid enough to think that he only had eyes for me.
For two years I believed that my bed was the only one he shared. How stupid was I?

Eventually one of his 'women on the side' decided to educate me on his 'business meetings'. Well, didn't I feel like the fool? He'd been sleeping around on me the entire time. It makes me sick to think how stupid I looked. How naive I was. I'll never allow that to happen to me again.

Instead of smiling back, I just focus on the business of why I'm here.

“Hi, I’m looking for…” I check my notes again to make sure I have his name right. “Um, Marcus Bailey. Can either of you point me in the right direction?”

The man who had his back to me, turns and gives me a really unimpressed look. “Are you serious?”

The other one just starts laughing and places his hand on the annoyed man’s shoulder. “Don’t mind Craig. He thinks the whole world revolves around his clients. What do you want with Marcus?” he asks, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement as he continues to flash that grin at me.

Butterflies threaten to take flight in my stomach as my gaze connects with his. But I squash them down, imagining a pair of heavy boots jumping up and down and keeping them firmly in place.

“I have an interview with him. I’m Lisa Russell, from Voyeur Magazine…”

“You’re here to interview Marcus and you don’t know who he is?” Craig asks, and suddenly I’m cursing Sandra for pressuring me to do this. I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull this off.

“Um, yeah. I’m kind of covering for a friend though. Sandra Hagen? She was supposed to come today, but she had a last minute appointment… We can reschedule if you want. I’m just trying to help her out.”

“No, it’s fine,” the first one says, running his hand over the top of his close cropped blond hair. “Come this way.”

“Thanks,” I say
gratefully, as I follow him over to an area where there are two chairs and a small table with a jug of iced water and two glasses set up.

He takes a se
at and gestures for me to take the other one.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my eyebrows creasing as my confusion sets in.

“I’m Marcus,” he states, leaning back in his chair with a cock sure grin on his face.

My mouth drops open and my face flames with embarrassment
, as I wonder why he couldn’t have just said something in the first place. Now I look like a fucking idiot. Great. He’ll never accept an interview with Voyeur again and it will be all my fault. I probably just got Sandra fired as well… shit. I knew I should have taken an extra five minutes before arriving to look him up.

This just serves to prove me right – good-looking men can't be trusted.

I swallow my discomfort. “Ok. I um… guess we should get started then,” I say as I take the seat opposite him.

“Wow, you really don’t’ know who I am do you?”

I snap my eyes up to meet his, my face burning from this awkwardness. I just need this done and over.

“
No I don’t. I’m sorry ok? As I said, I’m covering for a friend last minute. I have her questions though, so I hope that will be ok. I just don’t listen to much current music.”

“What do you listen to?”

I stifle an eye roll. I can tell by the upturned corner of his mouth that I've just managed to attract his attention on a little more than a professional level. I try to act nonchalant as I answer.

“Sixties stuff, you know – the Beatles, the Doors, Cat Stevens, Janis Joplin – things like that. I just don’t think today’s music holds a card to any of it,” I r
attle off, before noticing the expression on his face fall. Oh shit. Now I’ve gone and offended him.
Get it together, Lisa. This is Sandra’s job you’re messing with you can work on your pride later.
Suddenly, I feel a little guilty about my attitude toward him. It’s not his fault society fawns all over rock stars. I guess he can’t help his ego. “No… I’m sorry. I don’t mean any offence to you. I mean, you could be the exception to the rule, right? I… oh shit. Can we just start again?”

He presses his lips together in a tight smile.
“It’s fine, really. Let’s just get this interview done.”

Great.
Now I've pissed him off. Taking a deep breath, I pull out my phone and start the voice recorder then run through the list of questions Sandra gave me. I barely make eye contact the whole time, and I swear I’m shaking noticeably. Most of the time, I just wish that the ground would open up and swallow me so this could be over sooner.

I just walked in here acting like a queen bitch when I should have been acting professional for the sake of my best friend.

When the questions are finally over, I stand and thank Marcus for his time, apologising once again for not doing my homework.

“It’s fine
. It was kind of nice to talk to someone who doesn’t know me. I spend a lot of time around anything but.”

I nod in response.
“I’m sure if there are any issues with the interview, you or your people will get a call, but I think I got everything I was supposed to.” I turn to walk away, but stop when he reaches out and touches my arm.

M
y breath catches at the skin-to-skin connection. Shit. Those butterflies are trying to take flight again. I turn to face him and force my breathing to stay steady, as he moves closer to me and leans in to speak quietly to me.

“Listen, before you go
, I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner tonight?”

I step back, increasing the distance between us.
“With you?”

“Yeah, me.” He grins, looking very sure of himself.

“Um… I don’t think so.”

He frowns, seemingly taken aback by my refusal. “Can I ask why?”

I look around the room nervously, hoping no one is listening into this. “Listen I’ve read enough books and seen enough films to know how this works. Guys like you are used to clicking your fingers and having girls drop their panties. A girl comes along who doesn’t seem impressed by you, piques your interest, so you chase them down until they give in. Let’s not have this be something like that. Just accept the ‘no’ and go find some girl who’s willing to spread her legs for you. Ok?”

He laughs.
“Wow. You’ve got me all figured out don’t you?”

“Who knows what the hell goes on in a man’s head? I just know that I’m no notch on a
bedpost. I’m no prize to be won, or game to be caught. I’m not interested. It was nice to meet you though,” I tell him with a curt nod as I spin on my heel and head toward the exit.

“I’ll see you around Lisa,” he calls after me.

Intent on ignoring him, I fail miserably and only make it a couple of steps before I pause and turn around again. This time I don’t care who hears.

“Just so we’re clear. I’m not saying ‘no’ so you chase me. I’m not playing some sort of game. It’s just a plain ‘no’ ok?”

“Sure. I get it,” he laughs, his eyes are actually sparking as he continues to watch me amusedly. I nod again, feeling as though I’ve pushed my point across as much as I’m going to and turn to leave again.

I
can feel his eyes on me, the entire time I’m heading out of the studio. I tell myself not to look back at him. I force myself to keep my eyes focused on the exit sign. But, as I round the corner, I can’t help myself. I glance toward where he’s still standing, still watching me. My breath catches as our eyes lock and he laughs. A deep loud belly laugh.

Shit. I’m in trouble.