CHAPTER FOUR #2
“I’ll tell you in the truck.” I turn on my heel and start marching toward the parking lot the second I get the words out.
The things that just went down out here can’t be gossiped about out in the open for the world to hear.
I need to sit. In private. Where I can hear my own thoughts before I share them with anyone. Even Arizona.
“Dude, you’re kinda freaking me out now,” Arizona calls after me.
Then I hear her break into a jog to catch up with me.
“Did he do something gross? Because he seemed totally cool inside. Like, I was pleasantly surprised by him. My douchebag meter didn’t register a thing.
And you know I can spot any and all douchey tendencies a mile away. It’s my magic.”
“He wasn’t gross,” I set her mind at ease. This much at least, I can offer even in public. In fact, I’m happy to publicly announce, Knox Marley is not gross. Not at all. Not one little bit. A non-gross rock star in every way.
“You have your rambling face only you’re not saying anything out loud.
It’s totally unfair. I can tell you’re having a million ridiculous thoughts and I can’t laugh at any of them because I don’t know what they are,” she mutters.
“And we both know you need me to laugh at them. Otherwise, you lose track of what’s legit and what’s insane. ”
“Right, a problem you also seem to have. Clearly, when left to your own devices, your judgement goes straight out the window,” I grumble back.
“I know you’re not referring to my scoring you a face to face with your fantasy man.”
We’ve reached my truck. Thank God. “You don’t think what you did was a little insane?”
“Sure. But you forced my hand when you bolted. You think I drove my happy ass all the way down here to take you to this show just to have you skip out on the best part?”
I don’t answer her this time. I can’t. She’s not wrong. Goddammit. Meeting him was absolutely the best part of tonight. Possibly the last decade. Maybe longer. Though I can’t go much higher before I reach Sloan’s birth and that will stay in top spot forever and always.
Clearly, Arizona claims my silence as a mini victory, because she’s grinning smugly by the time we’re both finally in the truck, doors shut.
This is it. The moment I put everything into words and make it real.
“Knox Marley and I exchanged phone numbers.”
Arizona’s face seems to freeze up at the words. “You did what now?”
“He asked me for my number,” I say again, slower this time.
“And then, for extra measure, and as he put it, ‘to make sure I know who it is and actually answer’, he put his number in my phone as well.” And, because I know visual aids help, I hold up my phone for her to see. “Look. That’s him. He did that.”
For a second, she just stares. Then, she lets out a laugh. “Holy-shit-goddamn-woman-it’s-Knox-answer? That’s what he put in for his name?” She laughs some more. “Aw, it’s cute. You two already have a thing.”
“Don’t do that, please,” I beg her. “Don’t act like this is real. Like this could actually go somewhere.”
“I’m not acting.” She sounds instantly serious. “This is real. And it actually could go somewhere. At least as much as any other occasion in which two people exchange phone numbers after briefly flirting with one another.”
“He’s not just some man who asked for my number. He’s a freaking rock star!” I screech whisper, trying to control my hysterics but only succeeding in terms of volume.
“I know. I’m guessing that’s why you chose to give it to him.” She winks. “You know. Because you usually don’t.”
“Are you saying I’m that superficial?” I gasp.
“No, I’m saying your standards are that high. It’s either fantasy man, or no man at all.”
I have been going the no man at all route for long enough to make that statement sound somewhat true. “To be honest, I’m not sure why I gave it to him. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly while it was happening.”
“I’m glad you brought that up.” Arizona turns sideways a bit and scoots into the seat some more, pulling her left knee up in her efforts to get more comfortable. “Let’s talk about that part now. The ‘while it was happening’ part.”
I take a breath and try to reorganize all the thoughts and feelings that have been running amok inside me from the moment I answered what in hindsight was a very suspicious FaceTime call from Arizona.
“I mean, you already know the beginning. I’m assuming you heard every part of our video chat?” I want to be sure before I move on.
“Every part. Yes. It was glorious. Your reaction to his reaction of you was my favorite part.” She nods, eyeballs getting buggy like they do when she’s really getting into the story.
“Yeah, what was that, by the way?” I’ve been putting off freaking out about that ever since it happened. Given all that followed, there just wasn’t time. “Was my hair doing something weird? Did I have the camera at a horrible angle?”
“You’re not serious.” Her expression goes from entertained to disapproving in two seconds flat.
“He reacted that way because he thought you were hot! Not because you looked weird or grotesque in any way.” She shakes her head.
“Good God, woman. Does the trail of Ebenezer’s work ever end?
Your self-esteem can’t really be that much of a shit show. ”
I don’t really have a response to that. I decide to just move on.
“So, after he told me he was coming outside, I seriously considered making a run for it,” I admit shamefully.
“Then I considered just marching back inside and meeting him in the middle, you know, make it a sort of ‘be bold and take a chance for once’
kind of moment.”
“What scenario really played out?” she asks, clearly doubting my levels of gumption.
“I decided hiding in the shadows by the plants along the building was a reasonable compromise between both options. A happy middle ground if you will.”
“Your happy middle ground was not running but possibly not being found as well?” She’s not impressed with me.
“And after what I put myself through to make this meeting happen? Do you know how many sweaty arms brushed up against me in that line? How many times I wanted to offer someone deodorant? Or a mint? Or a restraining order? It wasn’t pretty in there.
Twenty minutes of my life and I may need therapy for years to come. ”
“Do you want to hear the rest of my story?”
She grins, immediately dialing back the guilt and drama. “Yes, please.”
“So,” I start again. “There I was, undecided between wanting to be found and wanting him to run right past me, before I settled into, there’s no way he’s really coming out here.”
“Oh, he was really coming out there,” Arizona cuts in. “He literally ran out of the meet and greet. No security. No warning. Just took off.”
“Really?” No, don’t need to know. It’ll only give me more material to embellish this story with down the road. And I absolutely will. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Let’s stay on point.”
“I’m good with that. It keeps us talking about the stuff I don’t know yet.” She gestures for me to keep going.
“Anyway, just as I’ve convinced myself I’m crazy for thinking Knox Marley would really come outside to meet me, there he is.
” The image will forever be seared into my memory.
The way he stood there, looking for me. Suddenly, he didn’t look like the same phantom of a man I’ve been watching and listening to from a distance all this time.
Sure, he was wearing his signature ripped jeans and flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his biceps.
And his overgrown hair was pulled back into the tiniest of ponytails, a change from the backwards baseball cap he wore for the show, but still a go-to look of his.
The thing that was different, was his face.
His expression. Even with all the raw emotions that stream from him when he sings, he’s never looked as human, as real , to me, as he did standing there.
Brow slightly crinkled, eyes narrowed and worried.
Mouth serious, but somehow anxious to have reason to smile. Which he did. The second he heard me.
“Obviously, hiding didn’t work,” Arizona fills in when I’ve been silent for too long.
“No. Because the words ‘Oh my God’ flew from my lips before I could stop them,” I explain, grimacing. Then I sigh. The best parts are next. “As soon as he heard me, he spun around. And he smiled. God, Arizona, that man can smile.” And apparently, listen. “He heard me, you know.”
“I know, you just said that. You gasped an over the top ‘Oh my God’ and he heard you,” she recaps dryly.
“Not that part.” I shake my head, trying to keep this from getting too confusing. “I mean, that part too. But that’s not what I meant. I meant he heard me go off on that chick about misinterpreting his song.”
Arizona raises a brow, intrigued. “Oh?”
“He called me the writer with an affinity for stormy weather.” Yes, I’m gushing now. Even I’m disgusted with me.
“So, what I’m hearing is, the fantasy man may turn out to be real after all?”
I lean my head back against the headrest of my seat and stare up at the ceiling.
In hindsight, not a great move. Someone (Sloan) squashed a mosquito there and left it, giving me smashed mosquito guts to look at while I contemplate how much of my current life is dependably happening and how much is just my imagination raging out of control.
“I’m not hearing that. Or seeing that. I’m sure as hell not believing that,” I ramble, eyes still locked on the bloodsucking carcass and its unfortunate fate. He probably never even saw it coming.
“That could be me, you know?” I tell Arizona, pointing at the crime scene overhead.
“If I’m not careful, if I just roll with this and let myself believe that Knox Marley has a genuine interest in getting to know me, the moment will come that there’ll be a loud splat and you turn back to find me squashed and in need of being scraped off some surface or another. ”
Arizona glares at me. “You can hear yourself, right?”
I drop my gaze from the ceiling, and the ill-fated mosquito, to face her. “I’m freaking out.”
“That much I sorted out for myself.”
“Knox Marley asked for my number.”
She nods. “Maybe we should stop referring to him by his whole name.”
“Mister Marley?” I try.
“I was thinking more like just Knox. You know, something that makes him sound more like any other regular guy and less like a distant phenomenon with really great vocals and a sexy ass.”
I make a face at her. Then I grin. “He really does have a great ass. I mean, I thought it was a pretty pleasant view from the loft to the stage but watching him walk away when he’s been within a foot of you, tops that by a long shot.”
“See? You and his ass are up close and personal now. He’s a real man.
With real interest in you. Let’s just focus on that, and not the other stuff.
, the rock star stuff ,” she reasons. “Because we don’t even know anything about rock star stuff.
Anything we throw out there as a potential problem is just hypothetical bullshit anyway.
Why tarnish this lovely adventure with bullshit? ”
I take a deep breath and let her words settle. Then I nod. “You’re right. Forget spiraling out and beyond what actually is. In this moment, all I know, is that I met a really hot guy who made me laugh and asked for my number.”
“And let’s not leave out the ass. We know about that ass,” she teases.
And I can finally laugh about all of this.
“Alright,” I say, putting the key in the ignition, “what’s next? Are we calling it a night? Or are we taking the party onward?”
“By party are you referring to pancakes?”
I start up the engine and grin. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”