Broken Sound (2 page)

“I really hate to do this,” Davey said, “and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way... it’s going to sound terrible...”

“Call me Cassy,” she said and stuck her hand out.

“How did you know I was going to ask your name?”

“Come on,” she said, “I know how the whole rockstar game goes.  No names, just sex, right?”

Davey rolled his eyes.  When someone put it that way it did sound shallow.  But in the moment... the high of music, the enjoyment of company, the free feeling of success all made it feel like part of the job.  And it had been part of the job, at least in the early years of the band.  The ‘groupie’ thing took its toll and eventually dwindled, leaving the band more apt to just party or write new music.  But there were plenty of times when the truth of loneliness was overwhelming and having someone, even for a night, was needed.

“Do you remember the show?” Davey asked.

“Of course I do,” Cassy said.  “I managed to get to the front row.  I sang.  I danced.  I had a low tank top on.  I stood right there, staring up at you the entire show.  And you stared down at me.”

Davey blinked and thought real hard.  He stepped towards Cassy, wishing he was just a few more inches taller than her.  He looked down and saw she wore heels.  He thought about asking her to take her heels off, but somewhere in his mind he told himself that would just be another invitation for sex.  And sex with Cassy came with consequence.

“I don’t expect you to really remember,” Cassy said.  “I’m sure you look at a girl in the front row every night.  But when the show ended you gave me your guitar pick and I managed to sneak along the gate and wait for you.  The security guards let me hang around and one thing lead to another...”

“I invited you to party,” Davey said.

“That’s right.  But we went to your room first.”  Cassy put a hand to Davey’s chest.  She curled her fingers just enough to dig her nails into Davey.  “And that would be our last place...”

Davey smiled.  That sounded about right.  He wasn’t the kind to take a woman to his room and then to a party and then back to his room.  Once he was in his room, that was it. 

“You did tell me though you would never forget me,” Cassy said.

“I’m sorry if I...”

“No, no,” Cassy said.  She moved her hand from Davey’s chest to his mouth, placing her pointer finger to his lips. “You said you would never forget me because of my tattoo.”

“Your tattoo?”

Cassy looked like a wild vixen when she stepped back.  She touched the button on her jeans and before Davey could comprehend what she was doing, she had already started to slip her jeans down a few inches.  Davey tried not to point out the pink panties she wore and when Donald made a sound, making his presence known, Davey grabbed Cassy’s wrists, stopping her.

“Not in front of the baby,” he said.  He knew how casual he sounded saying it like that, but he didn’t want a striptease in a hotel room with a woman and her baby.

“Well, I wanted to show you, to see if you remember.”

“What is it?” Davey asked.

“Not what... but where.”

Davey’s eyebrows went up.

Cassy pointed to her inner thigh, very close to a certain area between her legs.  “Right here.  When you saw it, you went a little crazy.”

“Crazy?”

“Let’s just say you appreciated it with your mouth,” Cassy said, “for a
long time
...”

Davey cleared his throat and walked away from Cassy.  He ran his hand through his hair, needing a quick walk to calm his nerves and body.  The woman was dark and seductive.  It was no wonder he took her straight to his hotel room after the show.  The wild side of Davey teased him, suggesting that if Cassy had come without the baby, they would have already been back in bed, catching up.

“Okay,” Davey said, now with plenty of distance between he and Cassy.  “Okay.  I have to look at this realistically.  You’re a fan, in my hotel room, with a baby.”

“Your baby,” Cassy said.

Davey opened his mouth and a knock came at the door.  He looked at Cassy, then Donald, and then moved to the door.

He opened it to find a wide eyed Peter, sweat glistening on the man’s forehead.  His eyes were bloodshot and bug eyed.

“Christ, Davey,” he said.

“No,” Davey said.  “Peter, please.  I’m trying to figure this out.”

“Figure this out?” Peter whispered with a growl.  “Someone shows up with a baby and you want to figure it out?  Call me and let me figure it out.  You realize...”

“I understand,” Davey said.  “Please.  Just give me a minute here.”

Peter sighed and shook his head.

Davey went back into the hotel room and back to Cassy.  He stood closer to her than he wanted to be for the moment.

“Listen, I have to go,” Davey said.  “I have to take care of some business here...”

“You want me out of your room,” Cassy said.  “Out of your life.”

“I never said that.  This is just... intense.” 

Davey looked at Donald.  The infant boy smiled and then slapped the black tray.  He let out a long wail and jumped, scaring himself.  That brought on tears and he began to yell,
“Mamamama...”

“He’s hungry,” Cassy said.  “Want to feed him?”

Davey shook his head.  “No.  No way.”

He regretted sounding like an ass, but he couldn’t hold the infant.  Not right now, not like this.

“I get it,” Cassy said.  “You’re going to be that kind of father then.”

“I never...”  Davey felt pain rolling through his heart.  “Can we meet up for dinner tonight?  Just us?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll just give the baby away for the night,” Cassy said.

“You know what I mean,” Davey said. 

He started to realize why maybe he had forgotten about the woman.  And why their one night stand had been kept at that.  Her seductive look and sexy side came with an equally bitchy side too.

“Fine,” Cassy said.  “I’m sure I can find a babysitter for the night.  Should I make it an all night sitter?”  Davey looked at Cassy and she smirked.  “Just in case you want to bring me back to your hotel room again.”

“Why don’t we start with dinner first?” Davey asked.  He slowly made his way to the door, hoping Cassy could take the hint to leave.

She walked behind the stroller and started to push, Donald still crying.  Davey was so confused, watching the infant cry and kick, demanding food and attention.

“Not easy, is it?” Cassy asked.

“Doesn’t seem that way,” Davey said.

Cassy stopped in front of Davey.  “Imagine doing it all on your own.”

“You never asked,” Davey said.

“Do you believe me?  That he’s yours?”

Davey didn’t respond.  He felt his jaw lock. 

Cassy nodded, ready to cry.

“Maybe I should just go to the papers and magazines,” Cassy said.

“Don’t,” Davey said.  “Please.  Just, please, have dinner with me tonight.  So we can talk and sort this all out.  I’ll do my best with whatever you need.”

“Financially,” Cassy said, “that would be a good start.”

“You want money?”

“I need money,” Cassy said.

Davey felt his grip tighten on the door handle.  He looked at Donald again and felt the same surge of emotion cut through his heart.  He slowly opened the door and watched as Cassy left.  She looked at Peter and Peter looked at the infant. 

When Peter looked at Davey, his eyes were wider, his face more distraught.

Davey knew what the look meant.

The child in the stroller, Donald, looked like Davey.

(3)

The phone continued to ring as Anna fought a brush through the thick curls in her wet hair.  She remained hell bent on someday battling through the curls and defeating them, finally having that perfect straight hair that required no attention.  Sure, it was a dream, but all Anna had anymore were dreams.

Now with school let out for the summer, Anna, like the rest of the faculty at Early Brook Elementary, should have been planning her days based on late mornings, relaxing days, sun, fun, and vacation.  Instead, Anna had to get ready to go to her second job as a waitress.

The phone stopped and Anna smiled.

“Can’t get me if I don’t answer,” she whispered.

A second later the phone rang again.

Annoyed, Anna let the brush go, watching as its teeth clawed into her curls and hung in place.  She walked from the bathroom with the brush in her hair.  She took the steps down to the living room and unplugged the phone.  She really didn’t understand the purpose of a landline, not with having a cell phone and all, but her grandparents had the same phone number for fifty years and as silly as it may have sounded, Anna didn’t want to give the number up.  It was too important.  The number was etched into the scripts of her memory.  She could still see herself as a young girl, holding a phone, dialing the numbers, excited to hear her grandmother’s voice.

As she turned to take the steps, she found her cell phone next to the sink, coming close to falling in. 

It was the restaurant.

Damn.

She closed her eyes and answered the call, hoping it wasn’t Bill, the restaurant manger, telling her that they didn’t need her.  The restaurant moved in cycles and it always seemed to be extra busy when Anna was extra busy at school.  Now when she had the time to work as much as possible, there were days when it didn’t make sense to have her come in.  To Anna it made perfect sense to come in... she needed to keep the phone from ringing.

“Hello?”

“Anna?  It’s Bill.”

“Hey Bill.  Please don’t tell me we’re dead.”

Bill laughed.  “Anything but.  We’re booked solid all night.”

Anna smiled.  Her body didn’t quite agree, knowing the effects of a long day of running around a restaurant.

“Listen, Christie called off.”

“Again?”

“College kids, I know.  She was working dinner to close...”

“I’ll do it,” Anna said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.  Bill, I told you, I need the hours.  Especially now with summer.”

“Aren’t teachers supposed to relax?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Anna said.  “But I’m not like most teachers.”

“Fair enough then.  If you don’t mind, I could use you here as soon as possible.”

Anna looked at the brush tangled in her hair.  “I’ll be in as soon as I can.”

“Good.  Thank you.”

“No, Bill, thank you.”

“Yeah, well it’s damn shame what that guy did to you.  None of my business, but just a shame.”

Anna didn’t reply.  She was over replying to the sympathy comments.  It was nice of some to care.  However, when it came to the credit cards maxed out, however, those people weren’t so nice or consoling.

“I’ll be there in a few,” Anna said.

“Okay.  Oh, Anna, wait a second...”

“Yeah?”

“Not that it probably matters,” Bill said, “but I like to give a heads up...”

“District Manager visit?”

“No.  God.  Hell no.  Don’t say things like that.  We have a celebrity guest tonight.”

“Celebrity?”

“Yeah.  I don’t know if you know the band or not, but the guitarist for Chasing Cross has reservations tonight.”

Anna’s heart jumped a little.  She knew the band.  She loved the band actually.  She wanted to go see them but had to work and couldn’t afford tickets.

“Okay,” she said.  “Is it the entire band?”

“No.  Just the guitarist and someone else.”

“Party for two,” Anna whispered.

“I want you to wait on him,” Bill said.  “I don’t need any star struck nonsense going on, you know?”

“Not a problem,” Anna said.

She didn’t have a problem with it at all actually.  Maybe she could sneak an autograph but nothing else.  After all, he was big time rockstar, and rich.  And probably bringing some supermodel as a date.  Anna was just an art and music teacher at an elementary school, racked with debt from student loans and credit cards, working two jobs to keep afloat.  Such a turn on, right?

Anna went back to the battle to get the brush out of her hair.

(4)

“Oh, I love your hair, sweetie.”

Anna smiled and put two drinks on the table.  “Thank you.”

“I wish I had those curls,” a middle aged woman said.  Her face had too much makeup on it, showing a defiant but failing war to age and wrinkles.  “Don’t I always say that, Jerry?”

The woman’s husband, Jerry, nodded.  “She always says that.  Told me I should have left her for a woman with curly hair.”

“But then he started losing his hair so we compromised,” the woman teased.

Anna laughed and took their orders.  As she walked away, she touched the top of her hair, feeling some of the frizzy curls working their way out.  By the end of the night there was a great potential that Anna would look like one of those cartoon characters where they had stuck their finger into an outlet.