Sheet Music - A Rock 'n' Roll Love Story (47 page)

“Okay, asshole.  What the fuck did you do now?”

“Excuse me?” Michael asked, keeping his eyes on the television.

“Your wife just called me.”

Michael shut off the television and faced Brian.  “She called you?” he asked quietly.

Brian narrowed his eyes in anger.  “She asked me to deliver a message.”

“What did she say?”

“She said to stop trying to contact her or she’ll slap a restraining order against your ass.”

Michael’s eyes fell to his lap as he nodded in understanding.

“Care to tell me why she’s so pissed off?”

“No, not really,” Michael replied.

Brian sat in a chair across from the bed.  “I’m not leaving until you tell me,” he stated, folding his arms over his chest.

“It’s really none of your business.”

“When your wife starts calling me and asking me to deliver messages, it becomes my business.”

Michael tipped his head back against the wall.  “I fucked up.”

“How so?”

Michael lifted his head and turned toward Brian.  “She caught me with Jill the other night.”

Brian stepped toward the bed, hands on hips.  “You fucking idiot!  I ought to kick the shit out of you.  What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know.  I was bored and the next thing I knew, Jill was knocking on my door.”

Brian paced the floor huffing angrily.  “You know, if I had what you have with Annie, the
last
thing I would be doing was Jill.  And the truly sad thing is, I bet this isn't the first time you've stepped out on her.  Am I right?”

“No, you’re wrong about that,” Michael answered quickly.  “Jill was the first and, not that it matters, it was only a blow job.”

“You’re a dickhead, man, and Annie would be smart to dump your stupid ass.  She obviously can’t handle this kind of shit so why would you risk losing her by doing it?  Need I remind you of the shower incident, and how she freaked after she found out about that?  For that reason alone, you should have kept your dick in your pants!”

“You’re not going to make me feel any worse than I already do.”  Michael shook his head.  “I don’t deserve her.”

“Grow up, Mike, before you lose the best thing that's ever happened to you.  And, for God's sake, leave her the hell alone until she cools off.  Let
her
make the next move, okay?  I really don't want to bail your ass out of jail.”

Brian walked to the door and slammed it behind him.

Two weeks passed, and Lace’s tour ended.  Annie flew back to New York and moved back into her old bedroom at the apartment Taylor had inherited upon the death of her grandmother.  The place was huge with four bedrooms and three bathrooms, far more space than one woman could occupy, so having Annie as a roommate was a gift.  Taylor welcomed the company, especially after her surgery.

But, not a day went by that Taylor didn’t remind Annie that her current living arrangement was temporary and she should call Michael.  And each day, Annie claimed she still wasn’t ready to talk to him.

“If he calls here, I’m not lying for you, Annie,” Taylor would scold.  “In fact, maybe I should call him myself and invite him over for dinner!”

“Just let me get settled,” Annie would reply in protest.

Annie knew she was putting off the inevitable and sooner than later she would have to address the situation with Michael.  As the weeks went by, her belly grew.  It would only be a matter of weeks until the baby came.  Then, what would she do?  At that point, she’d have to talk to him. 

Although she hated to admit it, she did miss him.  The nights were so empty without him.  She ached to hear his voice, the sounds of his guitar echoing in the halls of their house, and smell the subtle scent of his cologne.  Her morning sickness was a distant memory now, and with one month left before her due-date, her body had swelled beyond her expectations.  She had wanted to share these body changes, but the thought of being with him was still too painful.

She knew all it would take was a phone call and he would come running.  The knowledge of that both terrified and excited her.  Soon enough, it would be time to face him and the reality of their future.

“What are you listening to?” Taylor asked, as she breezed into Annie’s bedroom.

“Oh, it’s a demo tape of my work.   I keep adding to it from time to time.  Pretty soon I should have enough material for an album.”

“Really?  Can I listen to it?”

“I guess so, but be careful.  It’s the only copy I have and don’t expect sound studio quality either.  Most of it is just me and an acoustic guitar.”

Taylor took Annie’s demo tape into her bedroom and listened to it with a set of headphones over her ears.  She liked what she heard so much that she brought the audio tape to her record label and had one of the producers take a listen to it. 

When the producer finished listening, the smile on his face said it all.  He agreed with Taylor.  There was definitely an album of material there.  Question was; when could they get Annie into the studio to record it.

Taylor returned to the apartment and found Annie resting in the living room.  She couldn’t wait to share the good news with her.  “I hope you’re not mad, Annie, but I took your demo tape to our record label and they loved your material,” Taylor announced with a brilliant smile.

“You did what?”

“They want to know when you can record, and they’re talking about signing you, too.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Yes, yes!  I’m very serious,” Taylor said.

“A record deal?”

“Yes!  Now, when are you available to record?”

Annie’s face exploded into a magnificent smile then it quickly faded.  “Taylor, I don’t have the money to rent studio time and I’m not asking Michael for it.”

“Annie, don’t worry about the money.  I’ll take care of it for you.”

“That’s not necessary.  I’d want to pay for it myself,” Annie replied.

“Okay, then.  Call it a loan and we’ll worry about paying it back later.”

“You’re really willing to do this for me?” Annie asked.

“Why not?  You helped me out after my heart surgery.”

“Okay.  I’ll do it.”

“So, when do you think you can get into the studio?” Taylor insisted.

Annie smiled again.  “How about next week?”

“Great!  I’ll make the arrangements,” she replied and turned to leave.

“Taylor, can we keep this between the two of us?  In case it doesn’t pan out, I’d rather no one else knows about it.”

“You mean Michael.”

“Not exclusively him.”

“What ever you want, Annie.”

When Taylor reached the doorway she turned and faced Annie.  “There's just one thing, Annie.  This
will
pan out, you'll see.”

It was nine o’clock on a Friday night and Annie sat on the floor of Taylor’s living room playing guitar and serenading several of her new friends.  She was propped up against the legs of Kent Parker, a production staffer that had relentlessly pursued Annie’s attention since their gigs in Los Angeles. 

Kent was tall, dark haired, and classically handsome, and untamed like Michael.  He was bad news from the get-go but so very important for Annie’s shattered ego. 

She flirted with him shamelessly, reveling in the attention he gave back to her.  The fact he could not have cared less she was weeks away from giving birth to another man’s baby made him even more dangerous.

She was singing and strumming the chords to an old Fleetwood Mac classic tune when the doorbell chimed.

“I'll get it,” Taylor announced.  “It's probably the pizza guy delivering to the wrong apartment again.”  Taylor spied the hallway through the peep-hole in the door and saw Michael.  The blood drained from her face, as she contemplated what she should do.  For a moment she thought of warning Annie but quickly changed her mind.  This was a confrontation that
had
to happen whether Annie was ready for it or not.  She swallowed hard and opened her door.

“Hi Taylor.  How are you doing?” he greeted her, his voice flat and heavy with sadness.

“I’m doing good.  How about you?” she asked, motioning him to step inside.

“I’ve been better.”

His face looked worn and his body fidgeted with nervous energy.  “Is she here?” he asked pensively.

“Yes, she is, and I told her I wouldn’t lie if you showed up or called.”

Taylor brought him through the foyer and led him into the main living room.  With each step they took, Annie’s singing and guitar strumming became louder; as did the laughter.  He stopped at the edge of the plush white carpet and gazed across the room.  He saw Annie’s blond head resting against Kent’s legs and swallowed hard.  His stomach quickly twisted into a painful knot.

“Annie, you have a visitor,” Taylor yelled above the music.

Instantly the room fell to silence and Annie’s body went stiff.  One by one, her friends made excuses and headed toward the door.  Annie used Kent’s thigh to boost herself up from the floor, then began to pack her guitar back into its case.  She moved in slow motion, wiping down the neck of the guitar with a soft rag, clicking each buckle of the leather case one at a time, hoping beyond reason that Michael would be gone by the time she turned around.

“Annie, we’ll be down at the Lady Slipper if you want to join us later.” Taylor said, as she shut the apartment door.

Annie nodded and turned to face Michael.  The sight of him still took her breath away.  Her eyes scanned his body, so strong and lean, she wanted to melt against him but pride kept her rigid and unrelenting.  She walked toward him and prayed her knees didn’t buckle along the way.

“I guess Brian didn’t deliver my message,” she said with sarcasm, as she breezed past him on her way to her bedroom.

“I got your message, Annie, but that was a month ago.”

He fell into step behind her and stopped when he got to her doorway.  “You didn’t come home after your tour ended and I got worried,” he said softly, eying the contents of her room.  It looked settled and lived in, like this was her new home.  Anguish washed over him at the thought she might not be coming home to him at all.

Annie sat on the bed and glared at him.  “No need to worry yourself, Michael.  I’m living here now.  I’m safe and happy.”

He took a step closer.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Annie shrugged.  “It means I’m not sure I want to live in Boston anymore.”

Michael removed more distance between them and sat in the chair beside the bed.  “Are you saying you don’t want to live in Boston or with me?”

“It’s one in the same, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.  You tell me.” She stared at him.  His lips ever brooding and sensuous, the rock solid outline of his jaw and chin made her insides quiver.  His physical presence was always overpowering to her.  Nervously she chewed on her bottom lip.

“Do you want to get this over with now, Michael?”

“Yes, I’d like to talk things through with you.  That’s why I came to New York.”

“Okay, fine.”

His eyes fell to her and held on like a vise clamp.  She was so soft and delicate, he wanted to take her right there where she sat.  But her eyes were still so cold and distant.  It made his heart ache.  Self-consciously he dropped his eyes to his feet.

“I love you, Annie, and I’m so sorry for hurting you,” he said with emotion.

Rage blurred his words in her head.  Without warning, she leapt across the bed at him, her hands slapping wildly at his face and chest.

“How dare you even say the words,” she screamed.  “You haven’t got a clue to the meaning of love!”

She kicked his chair and sent him flying backward, spilling him onto the floor.  She stood victoriously beside him, almost defying him to stand back up.  Part of her wanted to see blood on his face, but there was none.

He stood, righting the chair, pushed the hair off his face and sat back down.  “If you’re done beating on me, I’d like to talk,” he said calmly.

“Fuck you!” she spat, her hand quickly connecting with his cheek.  She knew the slap hurt because her own fingers were stinging.  She smiled smugly as a perfect red outline of her hand emerged on his skin.

He rubbed at his face and gazed at her.  “Annie, I really want to get beyond this and try and make our marriage work.  But, I don’t see that happening unless you stop hitting and start talking.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she screamed.

“Your husband!”

“…Only when it’s convenient, and lately, being married to me has obviously been an inconvenience to you!”

“That’s not true.”

“How can you say that?  How can you sit there and say shit like that?”

Annie sat on the far side of the bed and faced the window, keeping her back to him.  “Did you take your wedding ring off when you were with her?” she asked somberly.

“No, I didn’t.  I haven’t taken it off since the day you put it on my finger and I don’t intend to either.”

“So, the fact that you were wearing a wedding ring didn’t discourage that girl from sleeping with you?”

“Annie, I swear to you, I did not sleep with her.”

“Are you denying you did
anything
sexual with her?”

A pause fell between them and Annie blinked away her tears.

“I didn’t plan for that to happen.  She showed up looking for Brian but he had already left the hotel.”

“So, you were second best?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Another pause filled the room.

“That girl wasn’t the first, was she?” she asked and spun around to face him.  “And don’t you dare lie to me!  You want to talk and get this out in the open, then you better start telling the truth!”

“I have no intention of lying to you.”

“Then answer my question.”

“Just her, Annie.  There was no one else.”

She closed her eyes and grimaced as if he had punched her.

“Why?  What did I do wrong?” she cried.  “I don’t understand.  Is it because I’m pregnant and you don’t find me attractive anymore?  What is it that made you turn to her and not me?”

“Jesus, Annie!  What I did has absolutely nothing to do with you.  It was me - all me.  You did nothing wrong, believe me.”

He came around the bed and knelt before her.  “Don’t think for a second you don’t turn me on.  You walk into a room and I get hard and that’s the truth.”