A Beautiful Rock (9 page)

“I was so nervous that night,” a female voice says from beside me
. “I’m Naomi.” She gives me a friendly smile and holds her hand out to shake mine in greeting.

“I’m Lisa,”
I tell her in reply. “What made that night so nerve wracking?”

“I told her that she had to wow the audience
, or I wouldn’t let her stay in the band,” Marcus’s brother Theo says as he comes up behind her. He slips his arms around her middle and plants a kiss on the side of her face.

I smile as I take them in. Naomi is
blonde haired, blue eyed and petite. She’s the perfect ‘Aussie girl’ and she looks like she should be running along the beach somewhere. Theo is the exact opposite of Marcus. He’s just as good looking, but where Marcus is light in hair and eyes, Theo is darker and a little more angular.

“I’m Theo,” he says. I take his hand and offer my name in return. I like that they are so down to earth that they don’t expect me to already know their names. It causes me to instantly like them.

“Is that you back there on drums?” I ask, pointing at the photo of them on stage.

“Yep, although now I’m up front. My brother,” he taps the photo to point at Marcus, “has found his own success. So
, we had to reshuffle a bit.”

“I see,” I reply, not really knowing what to say. I don’t want to talk to them like I know them and I’m not sure how me knowing Marcus will go down with them.

“How did you enjoy the show?” Naomi asks after a beat.

“Oh, I loved it. I’m actually really out of touch with modern
music, but I thought she was great.”

“She’s got a wonderful voice,” Naomi replies just as Sandra returns
from her interview.

“There you
are,” Sandra says to me.

“Here I am. Did you get everything you needed?”

“I did. I see you’re making friends.”

“
Sandra, this is Naomi and Theo.”

They all lean forward and shake hands.

“I think we’ve met before, haven’t we?” Naomi says to Sandra.

“We have. I interviewed you at
the music festival up in Cairns. I’m surprised you recognise me. It was raining cats and dogs that day.”

“It was. I think that’s why I remember.”

They all make a bit of small talk, and I continue to peruse the photos on the wall, eventually landing on one with my father in it. It looks to have been taken even before I was born, so he must have been here not long after this place opened. He’s obviously returned though, as his photo sports his autograph in scrawling silver letters.

“That’s who you are. You
’re Leisil Marx aren’t you?” My eyes widen as I hear my real name. I haven’t heard it for years and I’ve dreaded hearing it again. “Your hair is different but I knew I’d seen you somewhere before. Shit, I haven’t seen or heard from you since you went batshitcrazy over Jonathan Masters. How the hell are you? Do you remember me? I’m Colin Lucas. We used to run into each other a lot growing up. My mum is Sophie Lucas from the 80s band
Twister
. I’m in my own band now –
Tender Trap
, have you heard of us?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I knew this would happen. I knew that someone would recognise me.
And of course it’s fucking Colin Lucas. He’s one of the biggest namedroppers I’ve ever met. He’s bound to tell everyone he saw me. Him and his beady eyes and stinky black hair. He’s always been the same. God, why did he have to be here?

I fake that American accent Sandra
and I were talking about earlier. “I’m sorry. I think you have the wrong person. I don’t know this Leisil you’re talking about.”

With that, I turn and hurry out while that fucking idiot keeps calling after me.
“Aw, come on Leisil. Don’t be like that. I’d know you anywhere. Remember that huge Christmas pool party at my mother’s beach house when we were around sixteen?”

Feeling slightly panicked, I rush past Sandra where she’s still talking to Naomi and Theo and throw a quick “We have to go” over my shoulder.

She immediately follows but my sense of urgency is calling more attention to me.

“Who’s Leisil?” Sandra is asking from behind me.

“She’s no one. Let’s just go,” I insist over my shoulder. I’m not watching where I’m going properly and manage to find myself landing smack up against a wall of chest. “I’m so sorry,” I say as I turn around, still intent on making it to the door and not looking at who I banged into, until two strong arms grab mine and halt my departure.

“What are you doing here?” a familiar male voice asks me.

“Hey man. Glad you could make it,” Jerry, the DJ who invited me to this thing says as he slaps me on the shoulder in greeting. I had planned to line up like everyone else, but I’ve been met out front and the bouncer immediately recognises me and gestures for us to go inside.

Once inside, I hear the smooth sound of jazz filtering through the sound system as the stage is prepared for the first performance. From what the flyer said, there’s going to be quite a few talented artists singing tonight, ending with the vocal talents of Bella Adams
who I’m yet to have the pleasure of hearing perform live, although I have heard her on the radio.

Jerry leads the way to the stairs that will take us to the mezzanine level, but my attention is caught by something that is happening on the main floor. It sounds like an argument of sorts.

“You get your hands off me,” I hear a woman call out. Instantly, I know that voice. But what the hell is she doing here?

“Leisil, calm down. I just want to talk. I haven’t seen you for years,” the man says. He has his back to me and he’s blocking her from my view.

“Lisa, what’s going on? Why is Jonathan Masters calling you Leisil?” Another woman says from beside her.

"Because that's her
fucking name,” he retorts.

I move around so that I can see those involved more clearly and notice that Theo and Naomi are here too. Fucking hell. Anyone else? Is my fifth grade teacher going to walk out here too?

Lisa pushes through everyone, her face contorted in distress and when she sees me, it just worsens. “Shit,” she cries, breaking into a run and sprinting straight past me.

Those who wer
e surrounding her give chase. “Get in their way will you? I need to help her,” I say to Jerry who nods and gets his friends to try and hold back Jonathan Masters and company.

“Lisa,” I call out as I run to catch up to her. I have no idea how the hell she knows Jonathan Masters
, or why she was at that club, but I’m about to make damn sure that I find out.

“Go away,” she cries out, slowing to a brisk walk
. Her hands lift to cover her face and I can tell that she's crying.

"Lisa," I say again
as I catch up to her. "Just talk to me. What's going on, and who the hell is Leisil?"

"She's me, all right? She's fucking me
.” She shakes her head, and keeps walking without bothering to look at me as I fall in step beside her.

"Stop. Lisa stop," I say, grabbing a hold of her shoulders and turning her toward me to force her to stop moving.

"Leave. Me. Alone,” she growls out through gritted teeth.

"I already told you – no."
Then, I kiss her. I don't know why, but it seems to be the only thing I can think of that might get her to stop and talk to me. If I let her keep pushing, I'm never going to know her.

I want to know her. So. Much.

One minute, I’m crying and yelling a
nd the next, his lips are on mine, and I stop fighting. A delicious warmth starts from the point of contact and spreads in curling tendrils, diffusing through my body until they reach the very tips of my fingers and toes and every part of me is humming.

His hands move from my shoulders to cup my
face as he inhales and moves his mouth against mine. He uses only his lips as he sucks gently on mine and caresses my skin with his thumbs.

I f
eel light and breathless, and all thoughts surrounding my previous distress seem to float away out of my grasp, as I melt into him and slide my arms around him, gripping the back of his shirt.

I think I could stay here forever, but the sudden click and flash of cameras causes both of us to snap away from each other.

“Oh shit,” he says, physically turning my head away from the intruding lenses. Putting his arm around my shoulders, he hurriedly guides me forward, stepping toward the street where he places his fingers between his lips and lets out an ear-piercing whistle, before holding his hand up to hail an oncoming taxi.

He rushes me through a gap in the traffic and reefs the door of the cab open, guiding me inside
before sliding in himself and slamming the door on the persistent flashing of the cameras.

“Where to?" the cabby asks.

"Just go!" I yell, freaking out because now I know my face is going to be all over the papers tomorrow. And if it wasn't bad enough that I got recognised, there's going to the pictures of me kissing Marcus. My father is going to love that.

I lay my head against the back of the
seat and close my eyes tightly, feeling like my whole world has just exploded as Marcus leans forward and gives the cabbie an actual address to go to.

He sits back as well and takes my hand in his. The action causes fresh tears to spring from my eyes
. I feel like such a fool right now. I should have left the moment I saw where Sandra was taking me. I guess it just goes to show that Clark Kent’s disguise is no good. The glasses didn’t help me at all.

My phone rings, and seconds later, so does Marcus’s.
He releases my hand and removes his phone from his pocket. I feel a slight loneliness as a result but shake it off as I pull my phone out of my bag.

It’s Sandra. God, how am I supposed to explain all of this to her?
She’s my best friend and up until now, she didn’t even know my real name.

Marcus
silences his call and I decide to do the same, instead tapping out a message that tells her that I’m ok and will explain all soon. I don’t know if that’s what she wants to hear, but I’m not about to find out. I switch my phone off and put it away. I need to deal with all this in my own head before I start talking to anyone else about it.

The cabbie pulls up outside a modern looking apartment building and Marcus hands him a credit card to pay for the fare. “Where is this?” I ask.

“My place. Come on,” he says as he stands outside the cab and holds the door open for me.

I don’t know how I feel about going up to Marcus’s place. A few hours ago, there’s no way I’d want to be seen anywhere near his residence, but right now, it doesn’t really matter. I’m pretty sure the pictures of us together are already all over social media…
fuck camera phones, and fuck the opportunists who own them.

Marcus stands in front of me and holds out his hand. I look at it for a moment, hesitating before taking it and following him inside.
He nods at the desk attendant slash security guard as he walks to the elevator bay and inserts a small plastic key to call the lift.

As we enter the lift
cabin, I release his hand and turn to face him. “Why are you still being so nice to me?”

“Because I like you,” he says simply, leaning against the
silver railing on the back wall of the mirrored cabin.

“But you’ve just found out I’ve been lying about who I am. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“It all depends on why you lied. Where you doing it to hurt someone?”

“No. I was doing it to protect me. I wanted a new start and I couldn’t do it with my old name.”

His brow furrows with concern. “What happened to you?”

“Do you know who
Jimmy Marx is?” I ask, speaking my father’s name out loud for the first time in years.

“
Of course, everyone knows who he – ” He stops talking abruptly. “Leisil Marx. That’s who you are? Jimmy Marx’s daughter – Leisil the-one-who-publicly-humiliated-her-father-after-driving-a-car-through-the-front-wall-of-her-boyfriend’s-house Marx?”

Closing my eyes, I let out a huge sigh and just nod
. He knows the story. Everyone in Australia above the age of five knows the story. How could they not know? It was plastered all over the news for a whole week. That’s a long time to be newsworthy these days, and god, did I get dragged over the coals.

Firstly, you know about my ex, Jonathan. Basically, when
it was finally confirmed that he had been cheating on me all along, I lost my shit. I got in my car and drove around to his house to confront him – only to find him in the middle of it with another woman. He acted like I was stupid and that surely – surely – I hadn’t really thought that he’d been faithful for all of our time together.

I screamed at him and told him we were through
, and then I got back into my car, aimed it at his front windows and then wedged a rock on the accelerator, which sent it crashing into his living area.

After watching the crash and delighti
ng in the shocked screams from inside, I walked away, feeling very satisfied with my act of vengeance. But, being a wealthy neighbourhood, the police were pretty fast to the scene, and I was arrested and processed almost immediately.

My mug shot adorned the news
all night and through the next morning. Before my father could respond to my phone call to bail me out, he took an interview with news reporters and told them how disappointed he was that ‘I didn’t understand how the industry worked’, and how he was disgusted that I had reacted so childishly.

Needless to say, his words caused my blood to boil, and
as the saying goes – Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

The moment I got out, I sat next to him in the car, listening to him berating me f
or being such an embarrassment and for being such a poor role model for my younger brothers. My jaw hurt from clenching it so hard.

As soon as we were inside the house, I snuck into h
is office and stole his laptop, then proceeded to make a very damning video about him and his sexual exploits - which he so kindly recorded for prosperities sake (I found them as a teen when I was cutting school and sticky-beaking into things that had nothing to do with me). I released it on the Internet, feeling satisfied that I was showing the world what a sordid character their so-called ‘music legend’ was.

But
, it didn’t work. Instead, I was portrayed as the ungrateful daughter of a rock god who didn’t deserve the status life had bestowed upon her, and I was cast out, forced to change my name and start my life again or forever be ridiculed.

And do you know what it did for all of them? It made them so much more fucking famous than they already were. Jonathan landed roles in blockbuster movies and now spends half of his time living
between the US and Australia.

A
nd my parents and siblings? Well, they’re on the fucking TV almost every bloody day with this stupid reality show on a cable music channel that follows my father around while he still tours and picks up groupies, while my mother acts uncaring about the whole disgusting affair as she waves around these giant diamonds that adorn all of her fingers. It makes me sick.

I mean, how the hell does this happen? Why is the world so eager to praise their
debauchery and crucify the one person that stood up and said it was wrong?

It’s all total bullshit.