Rocker (Rockstar BBW Romance) (9 page)

“That’s terrific. Thank you.”

What a day. I was in orbit. Not sure about which planet I was going around though.

I was about to crash back down to our world.

I decided that needed to see Stevie.

The office building I was working in is only a couple of miles from the recording studio in the East Village, but what a difference a couple of miles can make in New York. After I got out of work, I caught the subway heading downtown with men in suits and women in business attire; I got off on Houston Street and soon I was the only person with those kind of clothes on.

Take a breath, April.

I still had on my dark blue blouse, black slacks, and pumps. I looked and felt keenly out of place. The vibe I felt was, you got off at the wrong stop, lady. As I walked east on 4th street, things got worse. The sun was going down, the early fall air had turned suddenly chilly, and I was clomping down the narrow, dirty sidewalk to Astral Studios.

An impossibly dirty and matted man shuffled past me. He looked me up and down. I hadn’t seen a soul who remotely resembled me. No one was fat, no one was wearing a poly-blend and pumps.

Two women, about my age, passed me. At first I was relieved, and then I saw the sneer of disgust on their faces as they looked down on me from their lofty hipster perch. I kept looking at the addresses on the residential buildings praying that 1-6-3 would get here soon. 417 was the current address. Was I in the right place?

A couple of older Hispanic men passed by me and one actually said, “hello.” I felt a tiny sigh of relief, but they were gone. The next person I passed on the sidewalk was a thin and disheveled white kid about 20. He looked kind of desperate to me. As we passed each other, he turned his head and glared at me. I was a mark, I felt it. I sped up in a cold sweat.

I heard footsteps behind me. 217 the address read. Almost there. A car horn honked near me, I jumped slightly, and almost broke into a run. 1-9-7.

Then I stopped short. Up ahead a few narrow, residential buildings in front of me, was Stevie. He was standing on top of the front stoop of a building. The building’s front light shown down on him and woman.

It was their body language that killed me. They were standing too close to one another. She was tall and beautiful and cool looking. Stevie looked like he was in love. I backed into the shadow of a small tree. I forgot my fear of the street. They both chuckled at something and kind of titled the tops of their heads together until they touched. She put her hand on his shoulder. He smiled at her. His hand went to her waist. She kissed him on the cheek.

I’d seen enough. I whirled away and stomped back across 4th Street toward the subway. I didn’t see any sign of the scary kid, but I wasn’t worried about him anymore. Suddenly the street did not seem threatening at all, now that my life wasn’t worth living.

I went over and over it in my mind. Every tiny detail was seared into my brain. My gut told me they were lovers. There’s no way that they could have been that close and that comfortable with one another if they hadn’t done it. He’d fallen for some gorgeous NYC girl, who could blame him. He hadn’t come home last night. No wonder.

I didn’t let myself cry until I was back in the brownstone in Brooklyn. The kitchen was a disaster. My heart had been quick frozen and shattered. No way Humpty Dumpty was going back together. I sat down at the little kitchen table and wept softly.

Love you, too. Yeah right.

I washed the dishes while letting myself have it for being so naive. He’s in a band, you idiot. You’re not Yoko. You wish you were Yoko. You’re just a fling. Peter Paul Rubens. I’m just some big girl fetish. Now he’s moved on to some sweet, blonde hottie.

At one point, I splashed water on the lower front of my blouse and slacks. Oh my gosh, I couldn’t go into DDB another day in these dirty clothes. Janet was going to start to wonder what's wrong with me if I wear this again.
Whatever
. I stripped to my underwear and bra and trudged to the upstairs bathroom to wash my outfit out for tomorrow. I was so smug just a couple of hours ago. I was in love. I was still in love. At the top of the landing, Karl came out of his bedroom in only a pair of boxers, saw me, and smiled.

It wasn’t a smile like, good to see you, April. It was a smile like, caught you in your bra and panties. “Oh,” I said, holding my clothes in front of me, “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“Just me,” he said, his eyes took in every inch of my body. “Stevie and the guys are still finishing up a few things. I’m wrecked. I had to come back and sleep for a few hours.” Karl was so damn hot, I couldn’t help but notice. He brushed past me with the same smile on his face and went down the stairs.

Maybe the smile was a “you’re through” smile.

I got into Stevie’s bed. I could smell him. It was only 10:30. I tossed and turned in the darkness for hours. Finally about 2am, I heard the guys come in. I pretended to be asleep as Stevie came into the room. He didn’t touch me, kiss me softly on the cheek, or anything. He just went back out of the room. I must have finally drifted off to sleep.

I awoke a few hours later in the early dawn. Stevie was out like a rock next to me. I slipped from beneath the covers.

A half an hour later, I slipped out of the brownstone, ready for work. Work didn’t start for 2 ½ hours, though. I got a coffee and a muffin and headed toward the train.

I took the F on into Manhattan and road up to Central Park. The bright sun was blinding after being below ground for 30 minutes. I walked into the park.  Dozens of walkers, joggers, and bicyclist passed me as I made my way to the pond. I sat on a bench in the sun and my heart literally ached. What the hell did I think I was doing?

“You’re making the most of the morning,” came an answer to my internal question. It came from an amazing looking guy who seemed to be about 70-years-old. He was rather large, about 6 feet, 200 pounds. He had a long white beard and a close-cropped head. In a white t-shirt and khaki shorts he looked to be in better shape than most men.

“I’m trying, Sir.” I said to him.

He slowed his walk. “I’m old,” he said. “I’ve found that when the going gets tough, it is best to forge ahead. I know it’s a cliché, but it makes things happen, and it makes you tough. You have to be tough, if you want a life. Forge ahead, Dear.” With those words he continued on up through the park. I noticed his shoes, they looked like leather slippers, and he seemed to glide across the sidewalk.

Forge ahead, April, I told myself. I headed into work an hour early. There was plenty to do. I was a permanent temporary after all.

My chutzpah drained, though. By 10:30 am, I had consumed 4 cups of coffee and felt wasted. Time was dragging by; my stomach and heart hurt, and Janet hadn’t even shown her face in the office.

I looked at the clock again, 10:32. Maybe Madison Avenue was not the place for me. I fought the urge to leave the building, hop on a train, go back to Brooklyn, and confront Stevie. I fought the urge to put my head down on my desk and take a nap. It was agonizing. Forge ahead I told myself. I Googled it.

Forge: to form or bring into being especially by an expenditure of effort.

The old man was right. I needed to forge the life that I wanted for myself. I couldn’t rely on Stevie, Mom, or Tara to do it for me. I got up, went down the elevator, walked outside into the beautiful early fall air, briskly walked all the way around the city block, and then went back up to my desk and got to work.

At lunchtime, I started looking in the “apartments to share” section of craigslist. I was energized.

Sometime after noon, Janet finally showed up and dumped a bunch of work on me. I was thankful.

Around 3pm, my cell buzzed, it was Stevie. I held my phone in my hand looking at it. On the third ring, I answered, “Hello.”

“Hello, Love.”

“Hi.”

“Everything OK?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“April, what’s wrong?”

“Just a little overwhelmed,” I sighed.

“I’ve got to see you,” he said, “We’re taking the night off. Why don’t I meet you at your office when you get off?”

A couple shards of my heart reformed. Oh, Stevie. “OK,” I said with a slight hint of cheer in my voice.

“Great.” I gave him my address and told him I’d be out at 6. Then I took a break from work and went shopping.

It had been so long since I had 2 pennies to rub together. It was a big boost to the pieces of my heart just to let myself spend a few dollars. After quickly visiting three different boutiques near my office building, I realized that I couldn’t afford much. Yikes!

I forged ahead. One of the retail clerks seemed genuinely nice, so I just came out and asked her if there was a place nearby that was affordable. She said her favorite place was a little thrift store in Hell’s Kitchen. I went for it. Traffic was heavy, but my taxi cab driver, Kamran, had me there in just a few minutes. The store was small and narrow, but it was deep and stuffed with high quality used clothing. In 20 minutes, I had a sheer white blouse, and black skirt that fit me perfectly.

Thankfully, back at work, Janet had me running around all afternoon and the time seemed to go by fairly quickly. She was telling me what we would have to have done tomorrow, when I noticed the clock behind her said 5:55.

“Sorry, Janet,” I said. “I’m late. I’ve got to go.”

I went into the restroom and changed into my new outfit. I looked at myself in the mirror.
Tired. Oh well. I had to forge ahead.

6:05 and I was walking quickly toward the elevator when I passed Janet’s door. “April,” she said, “can I see you for one moment?” I popped my head in her doorway. “Wow,” she said, “you look fantastic.”

“This old thing?” I said, tilting my head to the side.

“Go have fun, Dear.”

The ride down from the 43rd floor seemed to take forever. Did we have to stop on every single floor to pick people up? It seemed like that.

As I walked out the front door, I was anxious that he might not even be there. Then I saw him. He looked hotter than ever. He was leaned up against the granite wall, under the building’s address. The air felt erotic. I could feel both the summer and the winter in it. When he saw me, he rushed to embrace me and kissed me tenderly. More shards of my heart joined to the 2 that had managed to hold together all afternoon.

For hours, I had planned to play it cool, but I immediately looked at him and blurted, “I saw you with that blonde.”
 

“What?”

“I came to the studio last night,” I said on the verge of tears.

“You did?” He ran his hand over my head, tucked his hand under my hair and gently rubbed the back of my neck. More of my heart came together.

“I saw you out in front with that blonde woman. Don’t try to deny it. I saw you put your hand on her hip and I saw her kiss you on the cheek.” As soon as I said it, I felt like a stalker.

“
Kimmy?” Stevie’s face opened wide with understanding. “Kimmy is Trey’s sister. She lives in Boston. She was just down to wish us luck.” I felt like an idiot stalker. “I love Kimmy,” he continued, “I truly love that woman, but there’s never been anything between us. I know her boyfriend, he’s a super guy. I’d never…” He looked me in the eyes and kissed me long and sweetly.

The shards of my heart came together like magic and shown with a beautiful light that joined the light from Stevie’s.

My lungs seemed to open up; I could breathe
again. I was in love, at dusk, in New York City with a guy that was recording his first rock ‘n’ roll CD. We walked down the island of Manhattan, my feet not touching the ground.