Letting Go (Rock Romance #6) (8 page)

I was all wrapped up in the sheets and woke to music coming from my programmed ring tone on my cell phone, a tune from Tenth Avenue North called Love is Here. I exhaled and for that moment in my dream, love was there. I was still in my clothes from the concert, twisting in the sheets. Who was calling me now, and what time was it? I glanced at the clock it was already after eight in the morning. I slept through and Jillian called. I missed meeting up with her at eight to head to the gym. I reached out and dialed her back, and told her I was so tired and slept in but would meet her later in the week.

Jillian had become my rock over the past months. She was the first to enter the door to the high rise condo my husband and I shared after he left me. She had to pick me up, carry me and take care of me for many days. She taught me to lean on myself and take control and never be so dependent on another that I would lose myself. We shared so many girl talks and girl days together. My phone now sounded with a text that she would catch me later and hoped my tiredness was because I met someone and had fun and a late night. Although she knew that had not happened over all these months and she knew that I was not seeking that she asked anyway. I had been so deeply hurt that I didn’t think I could go that route ever again.

Now that I was up I stripped down and decided to take a shower and see what was ahead of me for today as I had to meet Max Rand. Just then while in thought for the afternoon my phone sounded and a text came through. I thought Jillian was reaching out again to make the gym a little later but it was from Max.

Good morning Madison, hope you’re free later tonight. I have rehearsal and if our conversation goes well, you can come meet the band. It’ll give them a chance to decide about you writing about us. Hope you slept well.

Wow, I stood there, completely nude, reading this and the water in the shower continued to run, if only he knew how great I slept. I dreamt of him. This was chilling to my naked body, but in such a good way.

The rest of the morning seemed to drag; it is always like this when you want to be someplace. I caught up on cleaning since my clothes were all over and also prepared an outline for my writings in hopes my project was approved.

Soon it was time for me to leave to meet him. As I was driving into the city it took me back to Thomas and me living there before. I was happy and in love then. Thomas still lived downtown, and still almost like it was written on his calendar, would call me and leave a message of how he was thinking of me each month that has passed since he left and since the divorce. Each time he would leave in the message that he knew that we would be back together sometime in the future but he needed time to find himself, or he’d say he wasn’t there yet. He never admitted to me that he left me for another woman. I heard he moved on real quickly with a new office intern, that he handpicked for the position but I heard it wasn’t all that wonderful lately and there was trouble early on in their new paradise. I never took his calls because as angry as I felt inside, I admit I was weak and I would have broken down and taken him back. I would have liked closure, to hear him tell me his side of what happened. After all the time that has passed, I still felt something for him for all those years together as man and wife. We all make mistakes or wrong decisions and I always believe in second chances. I think he may have been convincing and I would have crumbled.

I was going round and round on the city streets hoping to park close to the coffee shop, but luck was not on my side for parking. I finally managed to take a spot as someone was leaving but several streets over, so my afternoon arrival time was delayed by about fifteen minutes. When I arrived I walked in and was greeted by the employee behind the counter in a very friendly manner. Before I could tell him I was meeting someone he told me that Max was upstairs already. Upward I went and smiled at the idea that Max already alerted the coffee staff of my impending arrival.

Max was deep in thought and writing in a journal as I approached. He wore cool looking silver rimmed reading glasses that he had not worn on stage and a hat that snuggled down covering his ears. He looked so every day, average, but still very breathtaking in his normalcy. I was surprised as he seemed reserved and not exposed as when he was up the stage last evening with screaming girls surrounding him. He looked simple, still drop dead good looking but he camouflaged it this afternoon with not having a tight tee, tight jeans or the cuff bracelet. He had worn a leather cuff bracelet last evening that he had kissed before raising his hand to the crowd at the end of the show. I wanted to ask him about that gesture but figured I would in time if I saw him do it again in concert. Today, if I didn’t know I was meeting him, the same Max Rand from last night, I would have passed this guy by on a street. His attire was toned down, plain loose black tee with an open buttoned shirt over top, loose and worn and torn jeans and it appeared work boots. I pulled out the chair across from him as he looked up; he was really lost in thought there for the moment.

He paused and then complimented the color of my shirt. I felt the heat as he was staring at my chest. “Madison, wow, you look so warm.”

“I’m not warm, I feel fine.”

“No, I mean your shirt color highlights your dark hair and sends a warm glow. I guess I am stumbling here for something nice to say. But you look good. You’re good looking and you remind me of the warmer days coming.” He also sniffed in the air and said, “You smell good, really good.”

“I guess thank you and thank you, you may make me blush.”

Wow, did he just floor me with a compliment, and he actually smelled my Light Blue fragrance, even though I only applied a trace of it. I felt shifted in my thoughts. I had to gain composure and so I blurted out nervously, “Glad you could meet me so soon.” I spoke in a professional manner trying to sound more and more confident.

He smirked and simply replied “Yeah, sure absolutely.” Sounding just like me last night. He asked how I liked my coffee and took the liberty of ordering some lunch selections since if this went well, he wanted me to head to meet the band so there wasn’t time for food until much later.

We began talking and I explained to him that I was following my dream of writing and had certain pieces that I wanted to complete and put together in a collection. One was to get in depth with a band. Why his band? Well I had heard them play a tune months back called Missing Ash and during the lowest time in my life, I had downloaded it and played it too often as I wrote at home in my writing room. I dared not tell him that, all I said was, “I have heard great chatter about the Rolling Isaac’s.” Also, since they were a local band from Philly. I could easily attend a lot of their shows and perhaps get stories from them to write about.

I drifted in thought for a moment; here I was trying to start a conversation and hearing Thomas in my head telling me that my writings were good, although he never really cared to read them. They weren’t making him the big bucks in the corporate world so he just seemed to pass me over. But I had been so in love with him, perhaps I should have ignored my passion of writing and been more in tune with him.

“Madison, hey come back”…Max was seeking my reply. I jumped as he lightly touched my hand as it lay near my untouched coffee. It felt comfortable, safe and he kept fingers on top of my hand.

“You zoned on me, where did you just go?” He asked. I apologized to him as I slid my hand out and took a sip of coffee. I told him that I drift often into thoughts that take me away for a moment but not thoughts I want to stay in.

I started the conversation explaining that if I wasn’t going to be an intrusion or bother tagging along with them, I wanted to cover them and get some real raw, natural experiences of the band. The talent, their hopes, and what they gave up to have their dreams. I told him it could be for a few months or longer but that would depend on if it became bothersome for me to be with them. I knew they played in Philly often but knew they traveled about as well. I told him the travel wouldn’t be a problem and would be at my own expense. In between my speaking with him I managed to take in some bites of food, but I was still nervous. I felt like I was on a first date. I was trying to settle myself and continued to tell him some of my story.

My husband Thomas made a lot of money and he thought to leave me a nice divorce settlement. He did this despite saying that we would never be over. I guess his leaving me for someone else helped him to not have the guilt of carrying on an affair and staying married. I think he felt that he could try out this new woman and if it didn’t work then he would have me in the wings. I lived a simple life so the monetary agreement would surely carry me far. But I didn’t tell Max any of this, I just looked into the dark blue eyes that I had dreamt of and was stunned that they were the same blue as in my dream. I told him I was in a position to do my own travel and would not be any burden to them. I did then produce for him several pieces of writing that I published in the past from being a column writer for years at the city paper and then to a few books that were out on the shelves of several bookstores. None were best sellers, but to me, humble accomplishments. I had so many confidence steps to climb in my life now but I think I was feeling like I was on the second step.

Max glanced at the portfolio of items I brought supporting my occupation and smiled. He said, “I know exactly who you are, I followed your weekly column. You wrote the editorial piece a few years ago supporting bands. It highlighted a new, up and coming band, our band the Rolling Isaac’s.” Max continues “I still have the clipped article someplace back on
The Wall.
That’s what we call it where we rehearse and where the band tacks up our memorabilia. You should see this wall it’s freaking awesome!” He flashed me a devilish smile and said. “Slapped all over are new items about us, photos of our loved ones, and many we have loved and left the next day.”

I shook at that last statement; I had been drawn in by his keepsake of the article, but then stunned by the morning after thought. Thomas had left me the morning after, left me after ten years. I had been so caught up in him that I lost me.

I could feel his eyes, warmth focused in on me and I moved around in my seat. As we talked I couldn’t help thinking about the other girls. I was trying to convince him to let me follow the band, but I knew I was different from them. I knew that I was about eight years older than Max Rand. Nothing that he said or did made me feel old, but that was just one way I was different than the rest of his followers.

“What the hell, a pretty, smart lady asks to write about me and the band, I say yes, and you can start by calling me Rand. I’m done with hearing the girls scream “Max”. I tune them out. You though Madison I would listen to. It also gets confusing with me being Max and my Uncle Maxwell. Rand makes it easier. So I say, it’s a go,” Max said.

“Then Rand it is, thank you.” I cheerfully sounded, and I nodded to agree.

After a few more bites of food from Rand’s lunch selections, I started to ramble a bit. I paused only when he would eat as I followed the food to the edges of his lips. I was getting easily distracted, but then I calmed myself and told Rand a little about why I was pursuing this project now. I explained that I’d been through a painful divorce and I was beginning a new chapter in my life. I offered little in the way of details, hoping to make it clear I didn’t want to revisit this subject. I needed to take a moment in my life to recapture my dream and goals and was hopeful that he could help me with that. I talked innocently to him about losing love and wanting to fill my days now with work and keep busy – that love wasn’t something for me anymore. Rand looked and closed his eyes for a moment and there was something else that appeared in the blue when he reopened them, something in his thoughts but I didn’t press. He knew I sought out approval for this venture with them, so he again said it was no problem.

Rand said, “Madison, all of us hurt and have been cut deep. We look for a new start, if we can ever find it.” I wasn’t sure where that part of our conversation was heading but he smiled warmly at me.

“Ready? Let’s go” he said and grabbed my hand and tucked his journal under his other arm. I felt his fingers just hold the edges of my first three fingers lightly. He never paid a tab, but left a large bill under my unfinished coffee cup. He led me down the steps, waved goodbye to the staff, and we walked out to the black Hummer parked in the very front space. He released my fingers very slowly, in a way that made me shiver. I reached in my portfolio case and pulled out my voice recorder and hit record. I began to say with excitement in my voice, “This is the start of my writing Rock Notes.” He opened the door for me, as he walked to the other side, in my whisper voice that began to shake on my recorder; I added “OMG!”

We drove about forty five minutes to where they had their space to rehearse. It was out in the suburbs of the city, in Bucks County. As we pulled up onto the location I stared at the oversized, completely redone barn. It was a sight to take in. I had seen many old barns, but this has a modern twist to its exterior. The architecture was beautifully done, not where I expected a band would rehearse. There were several acres of cleared, rolling green property that surrounded it and there was a custom built home off in the corner. It was such an awesome home; it looked like something from that television show on HGTV would have built. I wondered if their rehearsals were a nuisance to the neighbors. When I questioned him on it, he simply replied that he knows the owner and the owner never complains. We had exchanged brief conversation in the car, mostly about how much mileage does the Hummer get, weather and stupid, yes stupid, conversation topics from me. I had blundered through the conversation, but most of the unspoken communication came from Rand. He often glanced over at me and smiled, just simply smiled. I put music on and when it was their music on his playlist I said stupidly, “This is a great tune.” Again, Rand flashed me his simple smile, not telling me how dumb I was coming across.