A Beautiful Rock Read online

  Fuck I’m an arsehole.

  “Sweetheart,” I say, as I lift the girl’s head out of my lap. “I need you to stop.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?” she asks, blinking at me blankly.

  “Go back to the party love. I need some time to myself tonight.”

  “But…”

  “Go,” I say more sternly, as I adjust myself and zip my pants back up. Her face falls but she gets out of the car as instructed.

  “Make sure she gets back in safely, “ I tell one of the security guards stationed nearby.

  He nods then takes her by the elbow and ushers her back into the party. I lean back and rub my hands over the top of my head. I can’t believe that after all this time, Naomi is still getting to me. She’s like this shining beacon of goodness and I find myself questioning my actions because of her. I thought I’d moved past that – I really didn’t think I’d give a shit what she thought of me.

  “Still up to the same old tricks I see?”

  Speak of the devil.

  “Naomi. I’m not in the mood.”

  She gets in the car next to me and shuts the door.

  “You haven’t been in the mood for two years Marcus. Meanwhile, your family is missing you. Why won’t you take any of Theo’s calls?”

  “Is that why you came? To berate me about not speaking to Theo?”

  “No Marcus. I came tonight because I want to make things right. We all miss seeing you.”

  “Well I miss you, Naomi. And I hate that my brother – the one guy I should have been able to trust over everyone – stole you from me.” I don’t even know why I’m saying this. I know it’s not true. She was never mine to begin with. But I have my pride and right now, she’s on my turf. She doesn’t get to come to my show and tell me how I should behave. Her input in my life ended, the moment I left them in Melbourne.

  “I was never yours Marcus. You never loved me. You just loved the idea of me. We were never more than friends. How could we be? Even back then you were putting your dick into everything with a pulse. How was that behaviour going to make me love you?”

  She’s so fucking self-righteous. I narrow my eyes at her. But I don’t reply, so she just continues.

  “Perhaps it’s time that you took a good long look at yourself. If fucking an endless line of girls is what you want, then fine. The best of luck to you. But maybe – just maybe – you could stop being angry at your brother for finding his soul mate for long enough to find your own. Theo didn’t steal me Marcus. I was always his. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself. You have more than any of us could have possibly dreamed of and you’re just using it to stay miserable. I came tonight to remind you that you have parents, and that you have a brother. All of whom love you – despite your shitdick attitude. Give them a call, Marcus. Speak to your parents at least, and if you ever cared about me – forgive your brother. For some reason, he isn’t willing to marry me until you’ll agree to give us your blessing.”

  I shake my head. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Then we don’t have anything else to say to each other.” She opens the car door and gets out before leaning down to say one last thing. “I hope your fame keeps you warm at night Marcus.”

  “It doesn’t. Naked women draped over my body do that for me,” I retort.

  She looks at me, narrows her eyes and shakes her head. “I feel sorry for you, Marcus.”

  And with that she spins on her heel and stalks off, leaving the car door wide open while I sit there like an idiot and just watch her walk away – again.

  I could have been nice. I could have just told her she was right. But I couldn’t seem to make myself.

  Fuck I’m an arsehole…

  ***

  All night, I toss and turn. It’s not that I’m having nightmares or anything, I just can’t sleep. Seeing Naomi again has really unsettled me. I keep replaying our conversation over and over in my mind. I hate that everything she said was right.

  ***

  “I need a break, man,” I tell my manager, Craig, over our breakfast meeting the next morning. “I’m finally back in my home town, and I’m not fucking leaving for at least three months.”

  “That’s fine, mate. We’ll film your music video, and in that time, we can record the next album in the studio. We won’t book any shows after this last one, so you’ll be well and truly ready to hit the road again in three months.” He smiles, and I can tell he’s feeling really confident about what he’s saying. I’ll need to set him straight.

  “No. I need a proper break. I’ve been on the road for two years, and I want three months of nothing before the album is recorded.”

  His face falls. “Marcus. Come on. We can’t stop now. Three months is a long time in this business. You’ve got to stay current.”

  I reach out and pull a sugar out of the white ceramic holder and tear off the paper tip. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m taking a break.” I drop the sugar in my mug and watch it sink through the foam before stirring it in. When I look back up, Craig is wide-eyed and gaping at me. “What the fuck do you want from me Craig? I just gave you two years of my life. All I want is three goddamned months. It’s not a lot to ask for.”

  “What about all of the interviews and promo we have lined up?”

  “Schedule them for while we’re filming the last video. They can run them while I’m on a break. I doubt it’s hard.”

  “Bloody hell Marcus. I thought you loved touring? What’s changed?”

  “I’ve just realised how messed up my priorities have been. I need some time to work through some shit. I don’t even know who I fucking am anymore.”

  “Of course you know who you are. You’re Marcus-fucking-Bailey. You’re a superstar. I've got to tell you mate, you've got me worried here. I don't like the way you're talking.”

  I place my hand on his shoulder and give him a reassuring squeeze before slapping him good-naturedly. "Relax Craig. I’m asking for three months, not the rest of my life."

  With that said, I push my chair back as I reach into my pocket and pull out enough money to cover breakfast. "Just make it happen okay?" I instruct, as I drop the money on the table and walk out the door, already feeling a little bit lighter.

  Chapter 2

  Lisa

  Bang, bang, bang.

  I pause and switch off the hair dryer to listen.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  “Damn it,” I say under my breath. Who the hell turns up at someone else's house at 7 o'clock in the morning? I place the hair dryer on the vanity bench top and try to smooth my dark brown hair with my hands so I look somewhat presentable.

  My visitor bangs again. "Hang on I'm coming," I call out on my way to the front door.

  I peer through the peephole and see my friend Sandra on the other side.

  “Open up Lisa. I need your help.”

  The moment I turn the lock, she tumbles through the door, almost knocking me off my feet. She turns to me, breathless, her blue eyes wide and looking frantic as she clutches a manila folder to her chest.

  “I need you to do an interview for me," she blurts out immediately.

  "What? No way. I'm no reporter," I say, shaking my head as I walk past her to return to the bathroom and continue getting ready for my actual job — in the advertising department of a national magazine.

  She follows me and starts to plead her case as I decide my hair is dry enough and begin applying my makeup. “Come on, Lisa. I’d do it for you.”

  “That’s really awesome, Sandra. But you’d never have to do it for me - I don't interview people for a living, remember? Why are you so upset about doing the interview anyway? Did you sleep with the guy or something?”

  “Yes,” she answers immediately, and my mouth falls open.

  “Oh my god. I was joking when I said that!”

  She grabs my arms and looks at me pleadingly, her blue eyes wide and earnest. “Please. It was this random thing I did. It was a year ago, but I’m so embarrassed by it. It
happened when I was working for that music show and I don’t want to interview him again.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Marcus Bailey.”

  I shake my head and pick up my black eyeliner pencil to accentuate my honey coloured eyes. “I have no idea who that is.”

  “Which is what I love about you and why I’m asking you. I know you can interview someone as famous as he is without going stupid over him.”

  “Not taking away from your sexual prowess or anything, but if he’s a famous musician it’s probably more likely that all of the women he sleeps with are just one big blurry face with a pussy.”

  Pressing her lips together, she reaches up and pulls her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder and smooths it over as she gives me a slightly unimpressed look. “I don’t care if he remembers me or not. This is about me feeling like a fucktard because I screwed him like a groupie. I'm scared that he'll remember me and expect me to do it again. But I'm even more afraid that he’ll have absolutely no idea who I am. And that will feel so much worse.”

  “Oh honey,” I say, feeling my resolve slipping.

  “Don't feel sorry for me. Just help me out… please?"

  I lean toward the mirror and concentrate on applying mascara to lengthen my already dark lashes. “I'm not saying no. But why can’t you ask one of the other girls to do it for you?”

  “Because, I still want the story. If I get one of the others to do it then they’ll snag the by-line too. Please do it for me.” She holds the folder out while she pouts her full lips and bats her eyelids in her best pleading face.

  Reaching out, I take the folder from her. “Fine.”

  “You'll do it?”

  “Yes Sandra. I’ll interview your rock star for you so you don’t accidently screw him again,” I deadpan.

  She throws her arms around my neck and squeals. "I knew I could count on you."

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah. What time do I have to be there?"

  "In 45 minutes."

  "45 minutes? Are you fucking mental? How the hell am I supposed to get there in time?"

  “It’s not far. If you leave now, you’ll make it there with maybe fifteen minutes to spare.”

  My eyes bug out and I almost ruin my mascara. “Fucking hell Sandra. This isn’t cool. Why couldn’t you have asked me this last night, instead of dropping it on my lap this morning?” Feeling rushed, I select a pale rose lipstick and run it over my lips before twisting my slightly damp, wavy hair into a bun on top of my head.

  I look in the mirror. That will have to do.

  “Because I thought I could do it. But look at me. I’m all splotchy just thinking about it. I’ll fuck it up and start accidently saying ‘cock’ or something.”

  As I spritz my perfume in the air and let it fall over me, I take a moment to actually look at her properly. She’s right; she does look all splotchy – to the point where I think she might have given herself hives. Instantly my annoyance dissipates as I realise how distressed she really is.

  “I’m sorry for snapping at you. Just do me a favour? Lock up for me and let reception know that I might be a little late. Tell them I have an appointment or something.”

  “Done. Thank you Lisa.”

  “Hey, what are best friends for?” I slip my feet into my black peep toe heels, check my appearance in the full-length mirror then grab my bag and car keys and head out the door. As I walk to my car, I open the folder to get the address I need to drive to. The moment I’m in the driver’s seat, I press the voice command button on my phone and tell it to navigate to the studios where Marcus Bailey is supposedly filming a music video.

  Great. Just what I need to start my day – a cocky muso who thinks he can bed any woman he pleases. After spending two years of my life being the ‘stupid girlfriend’ who didn’t realise she was constantly cheated on, I don’t have much time for womanisers.

  Marcus

  “How many interviews do I have today?” I ask Craig as we leave the set of the latest music video for my single ‘Animals’. We’ve been staging a massive costume party and I’m the entertainment, singing on stage while the partygoers gyrate in front of me. It’s the typical storyline - there’s some hot chick who catches my eye and we’re drawn by each other’s ‘animal magnetism’.

  Doing this kind of stuff used to be fun. But after my recent revelations, I’m just feeling tired of it all. When I first started in this industry, I never dreamed there would come a day when I’d be saying this, but I’m tired of the constant parties. I’m tired of the constant women, and I’m tired of all the fake friends.

  To be honest with you, I miss the days of Matiari. I miss the guys and I miss Naomi. Seeing her the other night really reminded me about everything I used to have. I know she was never really mine, deep down I’ve known that for a long time. But at least she was real - at least back then my whole life was real.

  Real. That certainly isn’t what's been in front of me all morning. My ‘love interest’ for the music video is a plastic Barbie doll looking model with the personality of a gnat.

  I’m not even sure what her name is, but she’s been giving me that look all morning. I’m starting to wonder exactly when my music career started being more about sex than music. When I think back, the sex has always been what I saw as a ‘perk’ of the industry. But it wasn’t my driving force. These days, it seems to be all I do – fuck around. I feel lost. This isn't the life I wanted.

  I remember my mother always telling me to be careful what I wished for. I know I wanted this. I wanted to be a rock star. I wanted to be internationally recognised. But now… well, it’s days upon days filled with people organising my time, telling me whatever they think I want to hear. It’s all hollow and fake and I find myself craving normalcy.

  “Five. They’re happening throughout the day in between shooting. The first one should be here any moment,” Craig explains.

  Looking around the room, it’s packed with people, all of them here for me. But, I can count on one hand how may of them are actually my friends. Zero. So I guess I don't really need a hand for counting at all…

  My eyes stop scanning when they land on someone who looks a little out of place. It’s a woman. I’d guess she’s around five foot eight when she doesn’t have a pair of heels on. She seems out of place in her business attire. She’s wearing a mottled brown business skirt and a crisp white blouse. Dark hair, piled on top of her head, gorgeous eyes – I can see them from where I’m standing because they’re really light and kind of shine out of her. She’s got a nice looking body too. She’s not rake thin like most of the girls I see are. There’s a bit of meat to her, but in a good way if you know what I mean. A guy likes something to grab onto, so curves are hot, and this chick is definitely hot.

  She’s rocking the sexy office chick look. I wonder if she’s a lawyer or something, but notice that the ID around her neck announces she’s press.

  Pausing, she opens the folder she’s holding and scrutinizes something inside before scanning the room again with her eyes. She looks lost. I should go and help her out, but honestly, I’m just enjoying watching her.

  She moves across the room slowly and elegantly, as she looks for some sort of guidance. Now this is a beautiful woman. You know those women who carry themselves really well? The ones who don’t even know how gorgeous they are? Yeah, that’s what she’s like. I can tell just by the way she's walking. She's not strutting like a lot of these other girls do, and my god it’s sexy as hell.

  Craig is saying something to me, but I'm not really paying attention. I'm too busy waiting to catch her eye. I haven't thought this for a long time, but I want to know this woman – like, really know her – as a person.

  The moment our eyes meet, I break into a grin. All of my prayers just got answered – she doesn’t know who I am…

  Lisa

  As I enter the studio, there are people everywhere. Each one seems busy doing something, and I can’t seem to get anyone’s attention to ask where the hell I�
��m supposed to go.

  Slowly, I move across the room. There are two men talking quietly to each other, but as I approach, one of them glances at me and breaks into what most would consider a ‘million dollar smile’. He’s probably one of the best looking men I've ever laid eyes on. He’s tall and well built, perfectly tanned with cropped blond hair and shining blue eyes, a perfect smile, a strong jaw and a roman nose. He’s the whole package of gorgeousness that women go for. He’s not covered in tattoos and leather, so I don’t think he’s this Marcus guy. I’m thinking he’s got something to do with the actual music video or something.

  His eyes scan my body, and I can tell that he likes what he can see - which is probably why I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. I didn’t come here to get hit on by some model wannabe.

  These days, I'm not a fan of overly attractive men. They always know how good-looking they are, and they always take advantage of women because of it. They seem to think they can do whatever and whomever they choose, just because they were blessed at birth with attractiveness. Well, that's not how it works in my book.

  My last boyfriend was one of those beautiful men that women fawn all over. I was stupid enough to think that he only had eyes for me. For two years I believed that my bed was the only one he shared. How stupid was I?

  Eventually one of his 'women on the side' decided to educate me on his 'business meetings'. Well, didn't I feel like the fool? He'd been sleeping around on me the entire time. It makes me sick to think how stupid I looked. How naive I was. I'll never allow that to happen to me again.

  Instead of smiling back, I just focus on the business of why I'm here.

  “Hi, I’m looking for…” I check my notes again to make sure I have his name right. “Um, Marcus Bailey. Can either of you point me in the right direction?”