Too bad it didn’t work out.
I finish loading the dishwasher and switch it on. These things never last anyway. At least not for a guy like me. Lacy’s remark earlier about me being a womanizer wasn’t totally unwarranted, even though it did sting a bit. The tabloids definitely make it seem like I’m always flitting off from one woman to the next. But that’s sort of part of my lifestyle. The Rock Star. Lasting love, a family, a home full of laughter and happiness like Rose Manor? That’s not in the cards for a guy like me. I’ve been on the road since I was a kid, when my mom had me by her side chasing that rock star life.
That’s just who I am and who I’ll always be. A road warrior. People don’t last long in my life, and I don’t seem to last long in theirs.
A burst of laughter from the living room shakes me out of my brief melancholy. Curious, I pick up my glass of wine and peek into the room. Lacy is sitting on the couch, her laptop in front of her on the coffee table. Her back is to me, and her laptop faces me. Three boxes, each one with a woman’s face, are on the screen. One woman is talking animatedly when she stops, her mouth drops open, and she points straight at me.
“Wait a minute, Lacy is that—”
“Ohmigod, is that Benjamin?” A second squeals.
“Your brother?” Another adds.
“Not a brother,” Lacy and I say in unison.
“Stepbrother,” Lacy explains to the fluttering women, “for a very brief period,” she adds. She turns from the couch to me. “Want to say hi?”
“Yeah, sounds like you ladies are having fun,” I say with a grin as I settle onto the couch next to her.
“Well, writing can get pretty dark,” one woman says.
“Yeah, better to have some gal pals to laugh about the bad days with,” another adds.
“Ladies, meet Benjamin. Ben, this is Cassandra, Jessica, and Celia,” Lacy says, pointing to each of the faces on the screen.
“Pleased to meet you, ladies,” I say with a nod. “What are you all working on tonight? How does this writer’s group thing work anyway?”
“Oh no. First we get to askyouquestions,” Cassandra says with a grin. “Is it true that you’re the secret affair that Trisha Pearson sings about in her latest song?”
“Are you really 30 or do you lie about your age?” Jessica asks.
“Have you ever met One Direction? Any of them?” Celia picks up.
“What about Daniel Craig? Do you know him?” Jessica adds eagerly.
“Why would he know Daniel Craig, Cassandra? He’s a musician not an actor!” Cassandra says impatiently.
“Woah, woah. Okay. First, Trisha Pearson and I are good friends and have never been anything more.”
Cassandra snorts audibly, giving me a look of disbelief.
“Second, yes, I am indeed 30. True, celebrities lie about their age, but I was so young when I got started, it would be too hard to cover my tracks now.”
“I can vouch for the age thing, actually,” Lacy pipes up. “He’s four years older than me.”
“Thank you,” I give her a nod. “Next up, yes, I met One Direction at Coachella years ago. They’re great guys. Very talented.”
Celia lets out a yelp of joy.
“And, finally, I have never met Daniel Craig personally, but I did see him once at an awards show from across the room and, Jessica, I hate to inform you, he looks even better in person than he does on screen.”
Jessica sighs in dreamy satisfaction.
“Okay, okay, before you commandeer our writers’ group with your celebrity insights, I better step in,” Lacy says, elbowing me playfully in my side.
“Of course, sorry ladies. How does this work, anyway?”
“Well, each week one person brings a piece of their writing, and the others critique it,” Cassandra explains.