Buried Notes (Brothers of Rock #4) (5 page)

It was time to celebrate the night.

Normally that meant a lot of
drinking. But tonight was going to be different and the second Chris opened the
backseat door and saw the look on Becky’s face, he knew she wasn’t just some
woman to enjoy a night with.

She looked flustered, confused,
happy, and nervous all at the same time. Gone was the super tough woman who
saved Chris from a beating.

“What’s wrong?” Chris asked.

“You’re a rockstar,” Becky said.
“And you’re getting in my car.”

Chris smiled.

Yeah, that was the power of music.
His music. His band. Chasing Cross.

Chris climbed in the passenger seat
of the car and sat there.

He touched his shirt.

It was sticky.

“You couldn’t have thrown something
manly at me?” he asked Becky. “Like whiskey... scotch...”

Chris turned his head, smiling,
hoping to break the tension.

He opened his mouth to say
something else but he couldn’t speak.

Becky had her mouth pressed against
his.

(7)

Chris wasn’t about to turn down a
kiss from a woman, especially someone as beautiful as Becky. He turned his body
towards her, hating that they were in a car, and when he touched her face, the
kiss came to an abrupt end.

“There,” she whispered and smiled.

“There?”

“I can tell everyone I know that I
kissed a rockstar.”

Becky put the car in drive and just
like that Becky had stolen back the attitude and command that she had back at
the bar when Joe was about to punch him.

Chris licked his lips and took a
deep breath. He smiled but tried hard not to make it too obvious to Becky. He didn’t
want to look like a fool, like some kid that just got his first kiss by the
prettiest girl in school.

“How far away do you live?” Chris
asked.

“Why? Afraid you’re going to miss
your tour bus?”

“Funny,” Chris said. “I’m just
trying to make conversation here.”

“For the record, I have no
intentions of sleeping with you,” Becky said. “Just to, uh, put that out
there.”

Chris tapped his fingers on the
dashboard. “Noted.”

“Noted? Seriously, is that how
rockstars really talk?”

“Maybe,” Chris said. “It’s how I
talk. What did you expect, some high burned out drunk or something?”

“No, you’re too good looking to be
burned out. Maybe another five years.”

Chris laughed. “Doubt that. We
don’t mess with that stuff.”

“I thought rockstars did.”

“Some do, some don’t. We don’t.”

“So you’re like a happy rock band.”

“I wouldn’t call us happy,” Chris
said. “We went through the LA scene for years. We saw things. We tried things.
That was way back when.”

“Way back when? You sound old.”

“Compared to some of those people
who knew us back then, maybe we are. Some never got out of LA and some died.
Kind of hard to see that stuff.”

“I bet it makes for good songs
though, right?”

“Nothing gets to you, does it?”

Chris looked at Becky again. He
didn’t think he could possibly be more amazed or intrigued, but he was.

“Everything gets to me,” Becky
said. “But I look at this way... we’re here to be wild and be crazy. So do it.”

“Like picking up a rockstar in a
bar and taking him to your apartment.”

“Just to hang out with,” Becky
said. “Not to sleep with.”

“Of course,” Chris said. “I
wouldn’t dare challenge something you’ve said.”

“Sarcasm?”

“Truth.”

“Really?” Becky stopped at a red
light and looked at Chris. “You know, for a rockstar, I thought you’d be bad
and tough. You’d pull cheap moves. Make up stories. Do anything to get into my
pants.”

“Well, you’re driving right now,”
Chris said. “It’d be dangerous to get into your pants.”

“So you’re a responsible rockstar.”

Chris laughed. “And you’re not
listening to me.”

“How’s that?”

Chris leaned towards Becky. “I said
I won’t sleep with you. But what my mind intends, has nothing to do with
sleeping.”

Becky’s mouth fell open.

Chris winked and leaned back to his
seat.

A car behind them beeped.

“Your light is green, Becky,” Chris
said.

“I hate being called that,” Becky
whispered as she pressed the accelerator a little harder than she needed to.

Chris loved it.

He wasn’t used to someone standing
up to him, at all. The stage and image came with its own set of perks. Most of
the time it was just plain fun. Fun to meet people who wanted to be near him.
Fun to meet people that wanted his autograph. Fun to meet women who gave him
attention, and whether it led to the bedroom or not didn’t matter as much as it
did before. In fact, there were plenty of times when Chris thought about
Chasing Cross’s beginning days back in LA when they would be desperate to have
some company. They’d play an opening set at a bar with ten people in the room.
Then they’d pack up and find somewhere else to play. Or when they’d open for
bigger bands, they’d get done early then try to pick up women and the women would
laugh at them.

Real
bands don’t hit the stage until eleven...

Chris remembered someone saying
that to him once and it stuck.

He looked at the neon red clock in
Becky’s car.

It was past midnight now.

Show’s
definitely on
, Chris thought.

Becky pulled into an apartment
complex that surprised Chris. It also made him feel like a moron for mentally
judging Becky by the car she drove or the bar she hung out in. He knew nothing
about her. What she did. Why she did it. How she survived.

“Nice place so far,” Chris said as
he eyed the large building.

“Thanks,” Becky said. “Rent sucks,
but it’s safe. And quiet. I like it that way.”

“The quiet girl and the rockstar,”
Chris said.

“Sounds like a crappy movie.”

“Or a fun night.”

Once again Chris watched the color
of Becky’s cheeks change and he laughed to himself. He got out of the car,
grabbed his clothes and guitar, then followed Becky to the apartment. Walking
there was almost like being back in LA where promised free tickets for shows,
offered jobs with the band, and traded food for a place to crash for a night.
Chris couldn’t count how many times he had to lug his bass in and out of
someone else’s apartment, house, or garage. Anything for a little shelter.

And it definitely paid off since
that time.

Being on a tour bus with a
bathroom, a bed, and air conditioning was like a slice of heaven compared to
some of the places he’d slept before. And when Becky opened the door to her
apartment and let Chris in, he liked the idea of being able to put his arms out
and not come close to touching both sides of a tour bus.

“This is a nice place,” Chris said.
“Honestly. Not just because you let me in here.”

“Speaking of which, how are you
planning on getting back to your tour bus?”

Becky had her back to him. Chris
frowned. This woman -
this
beautiful woman
, mind you - was challenging him. And it was really
sexy. He was usually the one playing games.

“Becky, I’m a rockstar,” Chris
said. “I play with Chasing Cross. They’ll come find me. Trust me.”

“Good,” Becky said. “Then I’m off
the hook to give you a ride somewhere.”

With that said, Becky walked
straight towards the kitchenette in the apartment. It was so narrow, that Chris
wondered if the dishwasher could fully open without hitting the stove. Not that
something that trivial should have been going through his mind considering
Becky was bent over and pulling out two bottles of beer from her fridge. She
twisted the caps off one at a time, took a sip from both of the bottles, and
then handed Chris one. He drank, taking half the bottle in one big, very
refreshing gulp and put it on the counter.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Yeah, you’re going to have
change,” Becky said.

“What?” Chris asked.

She put her bottle down and put her
hands to the bottom of his shirt. “You have to change. I can’t stand the smell
of that drink.”

“Me neither,” Chris said.

Becky lifted and Chris went along
with it. The stench of the strawberry booze attacked him even more as his shirt
went up and over his head. Becky rolled it up into a ball and looked at it for
a second.

“Memories?”

“Memories? Of what?”

“Does this shirt have memories?”

“Just tonight,” Chris said.

“Okay.”

Becky threw the shirt into the
trash. She looked at Chris, her eyes slowing move up and down his body.

“Did I get any on your pants?”
Becky asked.

“Are you going to throw them out if
I say yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then no,” Chris said.

“Not funny.”

Becky touched Chris’s shoulders and
put her face dangerously close to his chest. Chris’s body tensed. His muscles
flexed. Blood rushed to his heart – and other places. He tried to keep his
breathing calm but his racing heart was a dead giveaway of how excited he was
by Becky touching him. Even if her touch had not a single implication of
sensual desire, it was still a beautiful woman touching him.

Chris moved his hands, gently
touching Becky’s elbows.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“I need to lick your neck,” Becky
said.

“You what?”

“For a second.”

“A second,” Chris said. “Sure.”

Chris shook his head but quickly
stopped when he felt Becky’s breath on his neck. She was being serious... and
she was really good... Chris held his breath as the tip of Becky’s tongue touched
his neck. His hands gripped tight at her elbows, but then slipped away and touched
her sides.

Chris felt himself pressing against
his jeans. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to look obvious or not.

Becky’s tongue slid down his neck
and then was gone. She pulled back, took her hands away, but Chris still held
her sides. He stared at her, really confused.

“Just wanted to make sure it was
the dumb drink,” she said.

“Was it?” Chris asked.

“No. But you still could totally
use a shower.”

“You’re something crazy, you know
that?”

“Calling a girl crazy isn’t the
easiest way to get her into bed.”

“I don’t need a bed,” Chris said.
“The kitchen works. Dining room table. The couch.”

“Rockstars are such pigs,” Becky
said.

She tried to back up but Chris held
her. This was his chance. His moment. His opportunity to take his stand in this
fun flirty game they were playing. But as he stared into Becky’s eyes he
seriously knew that if he kissed her right then something would happen. And not
the kind of something he wanted. The kind where she’d jump into his arms and
between kisses guide him to the bedroom. It was the kind of something that
would change his life.

“I could use a shower,” he said,
letting the moment pass.

To his surprise, Becky exhaled and
looked almost relieved that he didn’t do anything.

What the hell did that mean?

She didn’t want him?

Would she have denied him?

Chris suddenly wanted that moment
back to try it again.

“Towel’s are in the closet in the
bathroom,” Becky said. “Maybe I’ll join you.”

She had her beer in her hand and
walked by Chris. He peeked over his shoulder and stared as Becky walked away,
the deadly rhythm of her hips enough to tear at all the strings of his heart.
Once she was out of view, Chris finally was able to move. He walked to the
bathroom and made himself at home. The notion of being in a stranger’s
apartment didn’t bother him. He never really had a home, not since leaving his
home back in Virginia and even then he wasn’t sure what kind of home he really
had. Most of his time was spent outside, hanging in the woods near a creek or
in concrete drainage areas, strumming a guitar, sipping warm, cheap beer,
talking big dreams with anyone who showed up.

Chris turned on the water, stripped
himself of the rest of his clothes, and stepped into the hot water. He had to
be honest that it felt nice being in a real shower for once. Not some crammed
hotel shower or the small shower on the tour bus. It had been two months now
since he last saw his home, a rental house near a beach just outside LA. The
idea of buying a house scared him. He preferred to rent. He swore to himself that
once life finally started to show a clear picture he’d make bigger decisions in
life. But something told him that’s not how life works. Everywhere he went it
seemed there was a different path, another chance, another decision to make.
The band rested right now on the shoulders of their manager, Peter, and the
record company. Peter had taken the new album to the record company and now it
was a waiting game. Chasing Cross decided together - the five of them - that
they wanted to do something a little different with their sound. The last thing
they ever wanted was to fall into a commercial trap and produce an album a year
with the same set of songs just sang differently. They wanted to bring
something new each time they stepped into the studio. Something that went along
with the change of life. They weren’t twenty anymore. They weren’t partying.
They weren’t out just to play guitar and get laid.

Chris washed himself with the only
soap he could find, a pink bar that smelled like Becky. The smell of the soap alone
had his body wanting her. He looked down at himself and had to laugh. Standing
alone in the shower, ready for Becky. When he thought about her saying she’d
join him, he decided to wait it out a few minutes. Those few minutes turned
into a few more. Chris could only pretend to wash himself for so long. The
final decision factor came when the water started to turn cool. He turned the
cold water completely off and the water still ran cool. Cool became cold and
that’s when Chris turned the water off.

He shivered as he toweled himself
dry. When Chris stepped from the shower he realized he didn’t bring his change
of clothes with him.

“Shit,” he whispered.

He’d have to walk through Becky’s
apartment in a towel. As much as the thought of it enticed him he couldn’t take
anymore from her. If she touched him, said something, even looked at him, he
felt like he was going to lose his mind.

He opened the bathroom door and
Becky stood there staring at him. Her bright eyes shining back at him with an
honest and intense look on her face. His fingertips tingled, wanting to touch
her face, her body.

“Becky...”

“He was cheating on me,” she
whispered. “I knew it for a long time, but tonight I really know it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s why I was there. I normally
don’t do that kind of thing, okay? I usually have to get up very early. I work
at a bakery. But tonight I couldn’t take it. We broke up a couple days ago, but
I just had to see, okay? That’s why I was there.”