Big Girls Do It Married (2 page)

A few minutes passed, then he responded.
K. OMW. See you there.

I gathered my courage and left.
 

He was waiting for me. My belly quivered at the sight of him, like it always did. How could it not? He was so beautiful. He'd changed, though. His thick black hair, usually carefully spiked in an intentionally messy way, had been shorn to the scalp. He'd gauged his earlobes, and now had quarter-inch-diameter black plugs. He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, and I could see new tattoos spiraling around his left bicep and shoulder. Shaving his head, which I normally found unattractive, brought the sharp planes and angles of his face into high relief and made his eyes stand out, vivid brown so dark it was almost black.
 

He was tapping a message in a cell phone when I arrived, and so didn't see me until I sat down on the opposite side of the booth.
 

He started at my appearance. "Shit, you scared me," he said, laughing. "Thanks for coming."

"I don't want you to think my meeting you means I've agreed to anything. It's a courtesy."

He nodded, sipping his Coke. "I get it."
 

The waitress came and we ordered. When she was gone, Chase took a deep breath and started talking.

"First, you were right about the proposal. I'm sorry, that was kind of a dumb idea, in retrospect. I just—I had to get your attention somehow."

"Well, you have it, for now."

"I guess the most important thing I need you to understand is that I wasn't doing anything with those girls. I know how it looked, but it wasn't like that. They surprised me in the alley, okay? I was out there getting some air after the show, and they cornered me, jumped all over me. You came out as I was telling them I wasn't going to do that with them, and they needed to get off me because I didn't want you to find me in a compromising position and get the wrong idea."

"Which is exactly what you're saying happened."

"Right," Chase said.
 

Our food came, and we ate in silence for several minutes.
 

"Here's my question," Chase said. "I don't think the business with those girls was the real reason you ran off on me."

"So what do you think it was?"

"I think you were afraid of falling in love with me. I think you felt things happening and you panicked. The whole wrong timing business just gave you an excuse to run."

"You may be right," I agreed, not looking at him. "But it doesn't matter now."

"How could it not matter? Feelings like that don't just vanish in a month or two, Anna. You still feel something for me. I know you do. I saw it in your face when you first saw me at the bar."

I shrugged. "Maybe there are still feelings there, but I'm with Jeff now. I can't just run off on him again."

"Again?"

"Whatever—"

"No, not whatever, Anna, what'd you—"

 
"Let it go, Chase," I said, making my voice hard. "Listen, we had a great time in New York. You really showed me things about myself that I needed to see. Thank you for that. You opened my eyes and helped me realize I'm more than just my pants size. I can never repay you for that. But it's not enough to base a relationship on." I swirled the ice in my glass with my straw, staring down at the cubes as they bobbed and clinked in the brown bubbles of the Coke. "And besides that, you're a rising star, Chase. You've got a sick amount of talent. Your band is going to be huge, I promise you. You don't need a girlfriend holding you back."

"How would you be holding me back?" Chase asked.
 

"I need a man who's going to be faithful. I need someone who'll be there with me.
Here
with me. I don't want to live in New York."

"I'd be faithful—"

"I'm sure you'd mean to be. But when you're famous and girls like that are throwing themselves at you every night, and not just one or two, but dozens every show, eventually, you wouldn't be. You'd give in, and it would make things tough. You don't need a girlfriend. You need the freedom to live the rockstar life. I mean, don't do drugs or anything, 'cause that's stupid. But you know what I mean."

He nodded, dipping a fry in cheese and then ranch. "I get what you're saying, and you're right to an extent. But I love you. I'm in love with you. I can't just ignore that."

"Chase...I know where you're going with this." I reached across the table and took his hand in mine. "You can't give up this opportunity. You could be the next huge thing, you know? Like Daughtry or whoever. I was gonna say Nickelback, but everybody hates Nickelback, right? Whatever. The point is, you can't walk away from this. Not for me."

"Then come with me. We're going on tour in a few weeks. A U.S. tour at first, then if everything goes well, a European one."

"You want me to tag along with you on a world tour? And do what? Sit backstage every show? Wait for you on the tour bus?"

"Sure, why not? It could be fun. You'd meet bands, go with me to signings and events and stuff."

"No, Chase. I don't think so. I know you mean well, but that's not a life for me. I'm not meant to be an arm-candy, wait-backstage kind of girlfriend. I want more than that. I
deserve
more than that."

"What are you going to do here, then?" Chase asked. "DJ karaoke for the rest of your life? Have Jeff's kids and be a soccer mom?"

Anger boiled through me. "Fuck you, Chase." I stood up and threw money on the table, turned around, and stomped off.

I’d made it out of the restaurant and to my car when I felt him grab my arm and turn me around. I jerked my arm free. "What if that's what I want? What if I like DJing karaoke? What if I want to marry Jeff and have his kids and be a soccer mom? You have something against soccer moms?"

"No, Anna, that wasn't my point. If that's what you want, then fine, go for it. My point was, you're more talented than that. You've got a great voice. You've got stage presence, and you know how to put on a performance. If you came to New York with me, I could probably score you a meeting with a record exec. You might get a deal, be a singer for real."

My heart stopped. "You could do that?"

"Easy. My producer said you had a stunning voice. He said he'd consider signing you himself."

I had a moment of dreaming: me, alone on a stage, performing; spotlights on me, my name on the marquee.
 

But then reality butted in.

"Chase, that's not me," I said. "Yeah, sure, the idea of being a singer, recording and touring and all that, it sounds great on paper. But if I did that, when would we ever see each other? The music I'd make isn't like yours. We wouldn't tour together. We wouldn't record together. So we'd have different careers, and wouldn't really be together. So if I'm not with you, why would I leave? It just doesn't compute, in my mind. I guess what it comes down to, really, is that I don't have a desire to be famous. I just...I don't know what I
do
want for my future exactly, but a life of paparazzi and magazine articles and whatever, that's not me."

Chase put his back to the car and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're really dead set against letting this work, aren't you?" He sighed. "Fine. I guess I'll see you around."

"God, Chase. It's not that I'm against it, it's just that I don't see it working out with us."

"You're not even willing to try?"

"I don't know."
 

Chase's eyes bored into me. I felt the brunt of his emotions hitting me, his hope and his love and his fear. He really did love me. "You're afraid, Anna. You're afraid I don't really love you, or that I can't be faithful while I'm on tour. But you do love me. Or at least, you
could
, if you'd let yourself."

 
"You're right, Chase. Is that what you want to hear? Yeah, I left because I was falling in love, and it scared me. But it wasn't you, or the idea of being in love with you that had me panicking. Some of the things that happened in New York bothered me, and I'm not talking about seeing you with the girls. It was...I don't know how to put it. It wasn't me. It was fun, and I enjoyed it, but I don't think it was things I'd do normally. You have a way of bringing out the wildness in me, and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that."

"You're talking about the bathroom thing."

"That's part of it, yes."
 

"It doesn't have to be like that—"

"Chase, stop. If that's the thing you like, then you should be free to do it. I'm just not sure that's the scene I'm into.
 
I tried it, and...I don't know. The sex was great, but being walked in on, being seen? Sex is private to me, I guess. Sex is always great with you. But I need a relationship that's not just sex."

Chase looked hurt. "You think our relationship is just about sex?"

"I think that's a big part of it. I'm intensely attracted to you. Every time I see you I get all quivery inside. You turn me on just by being you. You're out of my league in a major way. I love having sex with you. It's seriously incredible. But there's got to be more. We barely know each other. I'm not sure what we have in common, long term." I had to physically restrain myself from touching him to comfort him, he looked so forlorn. "And I
really
want long term."

"But I can do long term. I can."

"I'm not doubting that. I'm doubting whether you can do long term with
me
."

Chase turned away from me. "I can't win this argument, can I?"

"It's not an argument," I said, softly.

"Then what is it? Me, begging?" He shook his head, then turned back to me, put his hands on my waist above the swell of my hips. "Anna, I love you. I don't know what else I can say or do to convince you. I'll say it once more. Please, be with me."

My throat felt thick. "Chase, I—I don't know. I don't think I can. If I leave Jeff, he'll be heartbroken. I can't do that again."

"What about me? If you turn me down,
I'll
be heartbroken. Or don't you care about that?"

I tried desperately to pull away from his touch, but I couldn't. "Of course I care, Chase. No matter what I do, someone gets hurt. Please, don't make this harder than it has to be."

Chase's eyes narrowed. "It doesn't have to be hard. Just come with me. Jeff is a big boy. He can deal. Just come with me. I can make you happy. You know I can."

Something in my belly and below it trembled and turned to liquid. The heat in his eyes told me exactly what Chase had in mind when he said he could make me happy. I knew he was right. He could make me happy. My entire body shook with raw, potent desire. For a moment all I could think was how badly I wanted to drag him back to my apartment and rip his clothes off, let him make me happy.
 

I wrenched myself out of his grip. "No. Not like this."

Chase watched with a tight, pained expression. I got in my car, started it, and backed out. He stopped me with a palm slapping against my window.
 

I stopped and rolled my window down. "What do you want now, Chase?" Exasperation was rife in my voice.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a black box.
 

Goddamn it
. I was starting to hate those little boxes.

"Chase, for god's sake—"

"Just listen, damn it." He reached through the window and put the box, closed, on my lap. "Take it. Think about it. I love you. I'll give up being a rockstar to be with you. I'll stay here. I'll go wherever you want. I'll even sell my bike and drive a minivan if that's what you want. I just want you."
 

And then he was gone, leaving me trembling and hearing his words.

I managed to make it home before collapsing into sobs. Even in the midst of my confused, heartaching tears, it felt weird to be in my own bed in my apartment. I'd spent so much time over the last few weeks at Jeff's house that my place was starting to feel less and less like home. Jeff was home. I managed to get my bawling under control and lay on my bed, staring at my room. This small space had once been my haven. I'd come here after work, half-drunk and lonely and horny, and I'd read a book or a magazine, or watch TV on the tiny set Jamie had given me on my birthday.
 

I was comfortable here. I knew where everything was, where everything belonged. The pile of clothes in the corner by the dresser wasn't just a pile of clothes. It was a specifically sorted pile of clothes; shirts were on top, pants, shorts, and skirts on bottom. The magazines stacked on top of the dresser were piled in order of how much I liked each issue. The bra hanging on the doorknob was clean, the one hanging in the bathroom was dirty. It looked like a mess to a casual observer, but it was my mess, and it was an organized mess.
 

Now, after the military cleanliness of Jeff's place, it just looked messy. Jeff would shoot me irritated glances if I left my clothes on the floor. He wouldn't get mad or yell at me—he'd just pick it up and make me feel guilty with a few calculated glances. Now, lying in my bed, looking at the piles of crap, I realized I didn't feel comfortable here anymore. It had felt like my nest before spending so much time at Jeff's.

I wanted to be back at Jeff's. What did that mean? Did it mean I loved him more than Chase? I hadn't really liked being at Chase's place. It was a room in a house he shared with his band. It was clean enough, nice enough, but it just hadn't felt like home.

Jeff's house was home. Jeff was home.
 

But Chase...he was exciting. He made me dizzy with desire, pure lust, unadulterated greed for his body. He was a rockstar. He'd be famous. I could be famous just for being his girlfriend.
 

Jamie wouldn't hesitate. The chance to be with a real live rockstar, an up-and-coming player on the music scene, that wasn't an opportunity to pass up. Especially not when the sex was so mind-blowing.
 

I found myself out of bed and cleaning up as I thought. My bed got made, the clothes stacked on it folded, put away. Dirty laundry was set outside my door to wash, magazines and books were put away on the bookshelf opposite my bed. I even vacuumed.