chapter Five
* * * * *
I finally hand off my patients to the nurse coming in to relieve me. It’s Rachel, once again, the woman who took care of Slade during the days while he was here. I run through my notes on autopilot. As she turns away from me, I can’t help myself from calling after her.
“It sure will be quiet around here without our favorite patient, huh?” I say.
“Favorite patient?” she asks, not comprehending. Rachel’s never been one for humor. Or figurative language.
“Slade Hale,” I prompt.
“Oh,” she says, “Of course. Yes, it will certainly be quieter. And more peaceful.”
“Were you here when they discharged him?” I ask.
“I was the one who recommended it,” she says.
I swallow the unreasonable surge of anger I feel toward her. She was just doing her job, discharging a patient who no longer needed to be here. There was no way she could have known that I have a big stupid crush on him. “Was he...excited to go?” I ask.
“I suppose,” Rachel says, clearly wanting to get on with her shift. “Apparently there’s a concert tomorrow night that he’ll get to play now.”
“Right,” I say, “He mentioned that...Um, Rachel? Did he maybe...”
“What?” Rachel asks.
“Did he tell you to...tell me...anything?” I splutter, blushing all the while.
“Julia,” Rachel says, exasperated, “I’m not your answering machine. I didn’t think to ask him whether—”
“I’m sorry for asking,” I say, grabbing my things, “I was just wondering.”
Rachel mutters something as I hurry away down the hallway, embarrassed by my behavior. I hoped that Slade would have at least relayed a “goodbye” to me somehow. His departure was so sudden and anti-climactic - we never even got a moment to trade “farewells”. Maybe it’s for the best, somehow. Maybe I would have done or said something stupid if I had had any more time to formulate a send off for my rock star patient. This way, his impression of me would be fairly untouched.
I wonder what impression he will carry of me, after our couple of days together. Will he remember me as the uptight nurse who wouldn’t let him have whiskey in his hospital room, or the nice young woman who sat with him while he healed? I don’t want to know.
With my spirits dragging behind me like a ball and chain, I make my way back out into the early morning sunlight. I’ve gotten used to treating more like night and night like morning, and the old switcharoo is not without its benefits. This morning, the sky is bright with pink and oranges—the clouds billowing and bursting with light of every hue. I stand in front of the hospital and lift my face to the sky, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. I never take enough time to appreciate moments like this, tiny moments of beauty wrapped up in the rest of the day.
Maybe Slade’s had an impact on me, after all. After spending a couple of days with him, I do feel like I’m noticing things more. Even if it just means taking a second to breathe in the early morning air. He’s someone who lives purely in the moment—he has to. There are so many grand things happening to him all the time that he has to take them as they come. Why can’t I cultivate that in my life? Sure, I’m a creature of routine, but maybe I can take a page out of Slade’s book?
I smile to myself as I get into my car, thinking of how smug he would be if he knew I was taking life lessons from him, all of a sudden. I start up the engine and head home once again, back to my eye mask, and my cat, and a glorious day off tomorrow. I let daydreams of my upcoming trip push out lingering thoughts of Slade. He would appreciate my desire to get on the road for a while and shake off my typical life. Hell, he’d probably come with me if I asked him nicely.
“Ahh!” I moan, slapping at the dashboard. He even invaded thoughts about my road trip! My brain is acting like a twelve-year-old girl’s, dwelling on Slade like this. I need to clear my head. Get some sleep. This whole crush is spinning totally out of control—I don’t even know whether Slade was faintly attracted to me! And here I am, daydreaming about him like a lovesick puppy.
I turn into my driveway and have to laugh to keep from crying. I’m hallucinating now, it would seem. I imagine that I see a man sitting on my front stoop. A gorgeous, towering man who looks very familiar. I cut the engine and stare at my walking daydream. This has gone too far—I’m picturing Slade Hale waiting on my front stoop. I watch as my hallucination raises his eyes to mine, waves with that charming smile I know so well. I wait for the moment to pass, for reality to swoop in and rob me of my handsome imaged guest...
But when I blink again, he’s still there. He’s standing up. He’s coming over to the car...And I am utterly frozen in place behind the wheel. Slade peers through the passenger window with an amused expression fixed on his face. He taps the window with his index finger, attempting to get my attention. I struggle to regain my composure, wishing that my heart would quit the racket it’s making in my chest. Fumbling with my keys, I cut the engine and swing open the door, nearly smacking Slade in the head as I do so.
“I’m sorry!” I cry, as he leaps out of the way.
“Are you trying to put me in the hospital again?” he asks with a smile.
“No, I’m...” I stutter, “This is my house.”
“Yes,” he says.
“You’re at my house.”
“I am,” he grins. He’s clearly having a ball with this.
I stand before him on my own driveway, peering up at him in the light of the street lamp. I didn’t realize how tall he really was. I’m used to looking down at him in his hospital bed, but now he’s towering over me. His body is a perfectly balanced collection of well wrought muscle. He’s got his hands tucked into his front pockets and he holds himself in an easy, effortless stance. I feel like a bundle of exposed nerves in front of him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “Sorry. That was rude. I just—”
“You didn’t think I was going to leave without saying goodbye, did you?” Slade said.
“I...Well...I just figured that you had to get a move on. I wasn’t expecting you to stick around.”
“But you were hoping a little, right?” he asks with a wink.
“Maybe I was,” I smile, daring to let my affection for him shine a little brighter.
“I wouldn’t have just bailed,” Slade says, a more serious tone hardening his voice. “I don’t walk out on people, Julia. I want you to know that.”
“OK,” I say. Why is he telling me this? I was just his nurse, after all. It’s not like anything happened between us.
Except that, when I was honest with myself, I had felt something pass between us in his hospital room. Whenever our hands happened to touch, whenever I let myself get lost in his eyes for just a moment too long, I could feel something waking up inside of me. Whatever it is that Slade does to me, no one has ever done before. I try to convince myself that I’m just star struck, that it’s just his sex appeal that clouds my head, but it’s more than that. Yes, he’s the single most attractive man I’ve ever seen, but there’s something beneath that gorgeous surface of his that resonates with me. There’s something unknowable about Slade Hale that intrigues me, something he doesn’t let the rest of the world see. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be the one he shares that secret self with. Either that, or he’s looking for a one night stand with a cute nurse before he keeps going on his tour. I decide to play it cool.
“It was very sweet of you to stop by,” I say rather primly.
“You’ve been very sweet, putting up with my bullshit,” he says, leaning against my car. “I know I can be a lot to handle sometimes, but know that I wouldn’t dish it out if I didn’t think you could take it.”
“I’m sure I can handle you just fine,” I say, before I can stop myself. “As long as you can take it as well as you give it.”
“You have no idea how well I can give it,” he smiles. We definitely aren’t talking about witty repartee anymore, that’s for sure. I play with my keys, averting my eyes from his. He doesn’t look like he has any intention of leaving anytime soon. What am I supposed to do now?
“Do you...want to come inside?” I ask, for lack of any other idea. “I don’t have any whiskey, I’m afraid, but I think there’s some leftover pizza and a couple of beers.”
“I have a better idea,” he says, “Let’s go for a little trip?”
“A trip?” I repeat, “What kind of trip?”
“I’m playing a little show in Jersey, back at one of the venues we used to play when we were nobodies. Do you want to come with me?”
“To your rock concert...in the morning?” I ask.
“It’s not really a concert,” he says. “You’ll see when we get there.”
“I don’t think I’m wearing the right uniform,” I say, looking down at my scrubs.
“Go change,” he says, “I’ll wait.”
“Why do you want me to come?” I ask, bemused.
“Because I like you, Julia. You make me laugh,” he says with a shrug, “And you need to loosen the hell up. I want to show you that there’s more to life than work and more work. You should have a little fun every once in a while. This will be my repayment to you for being such a good nurse.”
“I have fun,” I say, pouting. “Last week, I organized my garage...”
“That is not fun.” He cuts me off abruptly. “That is...I don’t know what,” Slade says. “Go put on something a Jersey girl would wear and get your ass back out here.”
“I don’t own anything a Jersey girl would wear,” I sniff, baiting him.
“Philly girls and Jersey girls have at least one thing in common,” he says, “They can’t say no to me. Now go change.”
I stick out my tongue and hurry past him into the house. Every cell in my body is suddenly wide awake, the exhaustion of having just finished a twelve hour night shift is completely gone. I vault over Gustav, who’s waiting patiently on the stairs, and head for my bedroom. As I rifle through my closet, the closeness of Slade to the place where I sleep starts to excite me. Should I demand that he could inside? Give him the opportunity to make a move, if he wants to? I peer through my bedroom window and consider how easy it would be...But no. I want to see where the evening goes if I let him drive a little longer.
The best I can do is a pair of insanely frayed jean shorts and a loose white tank top that’s just transparent enough to show a little of my baby blue bra. My hair is beyond saving, so I pile it in a messy bun on the top of my head and swipe on some makeup. I look like I belong at one of those music festivals where you’re stuck in a tent and can’t shower for three days. But with this crowd, that might not be too much of a problem, I guess.
Gustav is waiting for me at the door, looking confused. I crack open a can for him and give him a quick scratch behind the ears. He seems offended that I’m cutting into his cuddle time. But for once, I have to chance to leave my everyday life as a cat lady behind and go hang out with a rock star. Gustav will just have to understand.
I walk back out to meet Slade, doing a little twirl so he can see what I’ve put together. He smiles appreciatively. “Safe,” he says, “But on point.”
“A little safety never hurt anyone,” I tell him, planting my hands on my hips.
“But too much can kill you,” he says, “Spiritually, anyway.”
“What, do you moonlight as a philosopher or something?” I ask.
“All musicians do,” he says, “All the good ones, anyway. Now let’s go.”
He leads me across the street to a sleek black sports car. It’s far more understated than I would have guessed, given his level of fame. But I’m starting to think that there’s a lot about Slade that I simply don’t understand yet. There are sure to be plenty more surprises waiting for me down the line. I catch myself thinking about the possibility of Slade and I having a future, but I very carefully remind myself that this is probably a one-night thing. He’s probably just amused by me, wants to keep me around as a novelty for a night. Come tomorrow, I’ll be spending my day off on my own once more. But right now, I’m going to try my best to just live in the moment, and not worry so much about what’s going to happen when I wake up in the morning. I try to channel my inner Penny, who never seems to be the least concerned about the implications of anything. But there’s only so much progress I can make in one day.
I slide into the car as Slade starts the engine. We peel away from my house and head for the highway. I watch as my humble little starter home fades away in the distance. It seemed so little when Slade stood before it. I hope that my life doesn’t seem small to him, or unimportant.
“Will your entourage be annoyed that you’re bringing a nobody along for the show?” I ask.
“You’re not a nobody,” Slade says, a scowl pulling at the ends of his lips. “And you don’t have to put yourself down for my benefit. What you do with your life actually matters, Julia. And if any a*shole roadie or whatever tries to tell you that what we do is better or something, you have my permission to punch him in the eye. The world could do without rock stars, but it couldn’t do without people like you.”
“Say it again, stud,” I smile.
“I mean it,” he says, “People build musicians and bands up into gods or something, but we’re just people who get to do something ridiculous for a living.”
“I promise not to let anyone talk down to me,” I tell him, “But you don’t have to remind me to do that. I don’t take well to people who are too self important for their own good.”
“I know you don’t,” he said, “You’ve already knocked me down more pegs than I can count.”
“You deserved it every time,” I told him.
“Fair enough,” he said.
We lapsed into silence as Slade pulled onto the highway. His car sailed over the bridge into New Jersey, his home state. Even though we weren’t speaking for the moment, the silence that hung between us was wasn’t uncomfortable. As I turned to look out the window, I felt the fingers of his free hand close around mine on the arm rest between us. I couldn’t breathe right while he was touching me. I tried to keep myself calm, taking deep breaths and reminding myself the best I could that this was OK, that it was actually happening, that it wasn’t all just a dream. I relished his firm grip, the warmth of his hand in mine, and smiled out into the quickly lightening sky beyond the window.
In no time at all, we were coasting through South Jersey. We seemed to be on a never ending strip of car dealerships, gentlemen’s clubs, and oddly enough, exotic bird stores.
“Your state is weird,” I mutter, leaning towards him cozily.
“It’s about to get weirder,” he says, flipping on his turn signal. We swing off the main road, into the parking lot of a broken down pool hall. The place is absolutely deserted, except for us. Still, Slade turns off the engine and unfolds himself out of the car. I step onto the broken asphalt beside him and cock my head up at the pool hall. It’s practically falling apart before my very eyes.
“What are we doing here?” I ask, looking around for a clue of some kind.
“This is where it all began,” he says happily. A dreamy look has come over his eyes, which are practically glowing in the morning sunlight. “This is where Flagrant Disregard played its first show, back in the day.”
“Here?” I ask incredulously. It’s a far cry from the kinds of places I would expect to find Slade. He belonged in arenas and stadiums, not dumps like this. “Well...What are we doing here, though?” I ask, confused.
“I thought it would be nice to stop for a visit,” Slade says, popping open the trunk of his car. He pulls out a gorgeous acoustic guitar and starts for the pool hall. “Are you coming?”
“Uh...Sure,” I say, scrambling after him. Hopefully the roof won’t decide to fall down on my head while we’re inside, though I don’t want to jinx it.
Slade pushes open the door of the hall with his strong shoulder and steps inside. I follow, blinking in the dusty darkness. Though day has finally come around outside, it might as well be midnight in here. We pick our way over debris and broken furniture, squinting in the darkness. Slade finds a light switch and illuminates a single Edison bulb. The whole place glows with a spectral kind of light. It feels like we’re about to begin a séance, or something.
“Right over there,” Slade says, pointing toward the corner of the building, “That’s where they used to have the stage set up. It was just a flimsy platform. It’s amazing that it held at all. The four of us were so nervous...There were only about ten punks in the crowd, but that was still the biggest audience we’d ever played for. I never sang in front of anyone but my band mates and my little sisters. It was the most terrified I’d ever been.”
“I’m assuming it went well?” I smile.
“It was amazing,” he says, smiling at the memory, “People actually put down their beers and listened to us. We had so much anger pent up back then, so much rage and sadness. It’s powerful to feel that all at once, especially coming from people as young as us. Before that night, we were all just a bunch of half-orphans and losers. But after...We were a band. We had each other, and we had something to give to people, something to prove. The band saved my life.”
“It’s a good thing we came back then,” I say, touched by his sudden moment of nostalgia.
“I thought I’d play a little something, cliché I know,” he says, slinging the guitar over his neck and sitting down on a rickety chair. “I hope you don’t think that’s indulgent and weird.”
“Not at all,” I say, perching on a busted pool table beside him. “I’ve heard your music, a little, but I’d love to really listen to you play.”
He gives me a quick smile in the darkness and then closes his eyes. His hands begin to move, traveling up and down the instrument. His fingers begin to pick out a sad, sweet melody. It’s not at all what I expected to hear coming from someone so strong, so fierce and intimidating. Every note falls perfectly, and the song builds on itself, complicates itself, until I’m utterly engrossed. I can feel the sorrow that went into this piece, and knowing that it’s Slade’s pain echoing through the chords, I want to lie down and weep. The thought of him in pain is unbearable to me. I want to heal him, even more—I want to make it so that he’s never had to know pain.
The song ends on a beautifully melancholy note, and he dives into another. There’s an anger pulsing beneath it. The careful notes are sharp as daggers as he sends them spinning out into the room. I find myself holding my breath as the songs intensifies, and Slade begins to sing over the chords. His voice is as rich and sweet as black coffee and dark chocolate. A sweep of goose bumps flies over my skin as his deep growl echoes around the space. There’s so much power in that voice, so much longing and determination and strength.
I’m gripping the side of the pool table so hard that my knuckles are white. He soars through the end of his second song and looks up at me. “That’s not really my usual stuff,” he says with a grin.
“I didn’t think so,” I say, “But it was beautiful, Slade.”
“Why thank you,” he says, “It’s some stuff I’ve been working on by myself.”
“Solo stuff?” I ask.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Slade says.
“Are you trying to get a solo thing going too?” I ask, jumping down from the table.
“Never,” he says, suddenly fierce, “Ever since we started, people have been trying to pull me away from the band. They love to talk about how much money I’ll be able to make with a solo album, a tour, whatever. They don’t realize that it’s never been about the money. Well, it was at first. I needed to make a living to support my family. But past that, I could care less.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest that you would ditch them,” I say.
“I know,” he says, “It’s just a touchy subject. I could never leave those guys. They’re a second family to me. They’re the only reason I managed to make anything out of myself.”
“You’re not one to let people down, are you?” I ask.
“Not at all,” he says, meeting my gaze, “Not when someone’s important to me.”
He takes a step toward me, guitar in hand. I stand still, wanting nothing more than to throw myself into his arms. Is that why he brought me here? To fling me down on one of these old pool tables and have his way with me? I image him pressing me down onto the green felt, the feel of his thick, perfect body on top of mine. He stands before me, a look of serious intent, of tamped down desire is burning in his eyes. I open my mouth to speak, to say what I’m thinking...and to my utter horror, I let out a gigantic yawn. Slade bursts out laughing, and I blush down to my toes.
“I’m so sorry!” I say, covering my mouth with my hands.
“It’s OK,” he laughs, “You must be absolutely exhausted.”
“No, I’m fine!” I say, letting out another huge yawn. “Now that I’m thinking about not yawning, I can’t stop! I promise I’m not disinterested or anything.”
“You just worked an entire shift, saving people’s lives,” he says, “Trust me. I’m not offended. We should get you some coffee, I think. Maybe some breakfast? What do you think?”
“Taking me out to breakfast already?” I say, “I think you’ve got the order confused, here.”
“Come on,” he says, ignoring my jibe, “I know the best diner in the entire world, and it’s right around here.”
I let him lead me out of the dilapidated pool hall. As we step out into the bright sunlight, the place doesn’t seem like such a wreck after all. I try to imagine what Slade must have looked like, hauling an amp across the parking lot and into the space. He’d been so young at the start, I knew. I wish I could have known him then, comforted him when things were at their worst. I’m glad he had his band mates there at least. As we got into the car, the pool hall looked more like a shrine than a dump. I guess jumping to conclusions about anything, or anyone was a pretty bad idea. One look at Slade and I was sure—there was no use trying to judge a person without getting to know them first.
The diner was extremely close by—across the highway, to be exact. It was a rundown red and chrome kind of place, with neon lettering and everything. I smiled as we made our way to the front door. This was the quintessential Jersey diner, right here. We stepped into the restaurant and found ourselves face to face with a wall full of Slades. I did a double take and saw that the entire space was covered in newspaper and magazine clippings of my rock star escort. Some of the articles were many years old, from local newspapers, and others were brand new.
“You’re something of a regular here, huh?” I ask.
“You could say that,” he says, leading me to the closest booth.
A wide set woman with kind eyes comes our way, her pile of gray hair bobs as she moves. As she stops in front of our booth, her mouth falls open. In one swift movement, she’s gathered Slade up into her arms. She gives him the tightest squeeze I’ve ever seen and starts to talk a mile a minute into his ear.
“You’re back! I’m so glad you’re back, Slade, it’s been far too long. I heard you’d be in town soon, and I so hoped that you would stop by and visit. Are you getting enough to eat out there? You don’t have a scrap of fat on you in any of the pictures I’ve seen in the magazines. How are the others? Has Joe gotten any better with his temper? I always said, that boy was going to end up in prison or on the covers of magazines, and lo and behold!”
“Maggie,” Slade interjects, forcing the woman to pause. “This is Julia.”
The waitress looks me over, scrutinizing my appearance. “Hello Julia,” she says politely, “Are you one of Slade’s...fans?”
“I was Slade’s nurse for a couple of days,” I tell her.
“Oh!” the waitress exclaims happily, “Good! I thought you might be some dirty groupie, or something.”
“Not quite,” I grin.
“What were you in the hospital for?” Maggie says, concerned.
“Just took a nasty spill at one of my concerts,” Slade says, “I’m fine, Maggie. Julia took good care of me.”
“That’s wonderful,” Maggie smiles, “This one needs a little looking after. He’d be the last one to ever admit it, of course, proud young man that he is. Why don’t I get you two some grub?”
“The usual would be great,” Slade says, sitting back down, “And a pot of coffee for Julia.”
Maggie bustles off toward the kitchen, and I shake my head in wonder. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” Slade says, leaning toward me on his elbows.
“You’re a rock star,” I say, “You’re supposed to be a womanizing, arrogant a*shole with no regard for anyone but yourself. But here you are, revisiting childhood haunts and charming old ladies...”
“What can I say?” he asks, “I’m an enigma.”
“So this is the real Slade Hale?” I ask, “Not the jerk in my hospital bed who wouldn’t give me a break, not the heartbreaker the tabloids love to talk about?”
“Who’s to say what’s real?” he ponders airily.
“You’re philosophizing again,” I say, “But I want an answer.”
He sighs heavily. “How am I supposed to know who the real Slade is?” he asks. “Do you know who the real Julia is?”
“Sure,” I say.
“OK,” he says, “So is it the uptight nurse who doesn’t want a thing out of place, the sweet young woman who will hold a guy’s hand to make him feel better, or the rebellious soul going off on adventures with a guy she barely knows?”
“Well...they’re all the real me,” I say.
“So, you see my point,” he says. “We’re not so different, you and I.”
Before I can say anything, Maggie comes back to our table with a heaping tray of food. She puts a big carafe of coffee down, two heaping plates of fries, and two sandwiches loaded with meat, cheese, and everything in between.
“Let me guess,” I say, “The sandwich is named after you?”
“How did you guess?” he smiles, and dollops nearly an entire bottle of ketchup onto his plate.
“What’s in it?” I ask, eyeing my sandwich.
“The easier question to answer would be what isn’t in it,” Slade says. “Just try it. If you don’t like it, you never have to see me again as long as we live.”
“That is a daring proposition,” I say.
“Come on,” he says, “For me?”
That does it, of course. I wrap my hands around the gigantic sandwich. It’s a pretty big departure from my usual diet of hospital cafeteria fruit salads and coffee. I heft the thing up to my mouth and take as big a bite as I can manage.
“Oh my god...” I say, once I’ve managed to swallow.
“Amazing, right?” he says. “I’m not only a musical genius, I’m a culinary one as well.”
“Were there...mozzarella sticks in there?” I ask in wonder.
“Among other things,” he says.
“You’ve opened my eyes,” I say, “I will be eternally indebted to you after this.”
We dig into our food. I didn’t realize how hungry I really was. I have an entire shift behind me, plus a pseudo-concert/spirit quest behind me at this point. I deserve a great big diner breakfast, I think. I lift another delectable fry to my mouth and catch Slade watching me gleefully.
“What is it?” I ask.
“This is just...very nice,” he says, “I haven’t had a quiet morning like this in a really long time.”
“I’d imagine not,” I say, “On the road, and all.”
“Not just on the road. While we’re recording, too. Even when I’m not technically working. Everything’s gotten pretty fast paced for me.”
“I guess you kind of got forced into taking a break, when your chivalry turned into injury,” I say, taking a sip of coffee.
“Well, I’d get kicked in the gut all over again,” he says, “It was worth it.”
“Being able to take a break, you mean?” I ask.
“That,” he says, “And getting the chance to meet you.”
I feel a warm flush creeping into my cheeks. The unspoken attraction that’s been hanging between us since the hospital is finally being given a name. The elephant in the room is getting its day in the spotlight, after all. I suddenly feel panicked—I haven’t been this attracted to anyone since...ever. What comes after you admit to something like this? I’m terrified, but I can’t stop it now.
“I’m glad I happened to be there when you got in,” I tell him. “I’ll admit, I was a little judgmental at first...”
“No,” he says sarcastically, widening his eyes.
“But you’ve grown on me,” I tell him, ignoring his shenanigans.
“You’ve grown on me, too,” he says, “But you didn’t have to work as hard.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You’re a nurse,” he says, “I was predisposed to like you from the start.”
“Ugh. Don’t tell me this is all just some fetish thing,” I moan.
He gives a little laugh. “No, no,” he says, “It’s just...” I can tell it’s hard for him to continue. “When my dad had his accident, the nurses at the hospital were amazing. I don’t know what we would have done without them. They didn’t just do everything they could for me, but they were there for my mom and my sisters...and me. I have more respect for you guys than anyone else in the world.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. No wonder he was always stressing how important my job was. The image of ten year old Slade being comforted as he was told his dad wasn’t going to make it brings hot, stinging tears to my eyes. I reach across the table and take his hand. Our eyes lock, and for a moment it feels like we were the only two people in the world. We don’t speak, we just sit with each other, connected in a deeper way than I could have ever expected.
Maggie bustles straight into our moment of connectivity to give us the bill. Slade gives her about five times more than he owes and we head back to the car. We drive back toward Philly in silence, our hands clasped firmly. I couldn’t believe how intimate it feels just to hold his hand. I’ve slept with people before and not felt as connected to them as I feel to Slade now. Eventually, we pull up in front of my little house. It’s late afternoon by the time we get there, but I don’t have to work tonight. I’ve been up for nearly twenty four hours, and I desperately need some shut eye. But still, as Slade walks me to my door, I don’t want him to go. My tired, weary body is still sparking with desire for him.
We stand on my front stoop. I’m fidgeting with my keys, trying to work up the nerve to invite him in again. He’s looking down at me with a kind, knowing intensity. I can tell he wants what I do. I can just feel it.
“I know you’re probably exhausted,” he says, “But we’re playing a show tonight. A real show. I want you to be there.”
“In the audience?” I ask.
“Backstage,” he says.
“I...OK,” I say. I have to give myself over to this insane twist in my life. I can’t say no to an opportunity like this. I can’t say no to Slade. “Thank you for showing me all that today,” I say. “The pool hall, the diner, everything you told me. I feel like—”
But my words fall away as Slade’s strong hands land on my hips, circling around the small of my back. He pulls me to him, and I lift my hands to his broad shoulders. As if by instinct, I tilt my face toward his, and lean heavily against him as his lips come down on mine. His strong, firm mouth moves against my own, and I feel his tongue slide against mine. Our mouths move together, and I try my best to memorize the taste of him. He pulls away just an inch and looks down into my flushed face.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he smiles, stepping away from me.
I watch him walk away, the feel of his lips lingering on my skin. By some miracle, I manage to get the front door open, trudge upstairs, and collapse onto my bed. Sleep rushes in to claim me for a few short hours, before my next stint as a rock star’s groupie.