Chapter 9 Part 2
***

Dylan had thought of Khrystine often during the last several weeks. The fact that she was still on his mind after all the trouble he was in recently was indictative of how attracted he was to her, despite the fact that she didn’t take much note of him. He’d ached to call her many times over the past few weeks, and explain to her that he’d had no part in trashing the hotel room, that he’d been taken to a party that was already orchestrated the band when things got out of hand. It pained him to realize he barely remembered seeing Megan, and the way he was trying to get his lawyer’s to silence the young woman until he had more facts. He wanted to tell Khrystine that it didn’t even add up in his own mind correctly, it seemed that he’d blacked out between the limo ride, and his arrival in the hotel room bed, and he truly didn’t think he’d drank enough that night to have such a gulf in his memory.

Still, he knew that Khrystine wouldn’t understand. The press was grooming her image in the opposite direction of G-Flat-Noise, and she would never believe that a lot of the chaos surrounding him was not of his own doing. The really aggravating part, was that the biggest after hours fiasco of his career occurred after someone gorgeous and cultured that he had a real interest in, Khrystine Morgan, had arrived in his life. He’d plotted out mini conversations alone, about how he would call Khrystine, and explain his side of the story, that he didn’t plan what was going on, and didn’t remember half of it, but she would probably just think he was an irresponsible drunk. Something went wrong that night, and he didn’t know what it was. Everytime he picked up his cellphone though, his hands trembled and he felt weak-kneed, and he could not bring himself to call her. She seemed beautiful, and perfect, and as though she would make an impossible juror.

He even thought about broaching the subject with her, by talking about the photograph with Derek Thompson that he’d seen in the L.A. newspaper, and how quickly things could be started by an unfortunate chain of circumstances. However, Khrystine’s press, though it bruised his ego, was not the negative bad behavior that was swarming around G-note at this time. His father was right. He was a rock and roll phenomenon, but he still wasn’t amounting to anything.

And god she was beautiful. She had her long dark hair tucked behind one ear when she came in, the remainder hung in the other eye and it gave her the exotic sophistication of a supermodel. Her shirt was opened right to the uppermost curve in the swell of her breasts, and he saw she was still wearing that locket perched between the two delicate globes of her busom.

The lack of punctuality she showed at her arrival seemed to be a bit of diva-ness until he’d heard her reason about the last minute flight. She was becoming one of the hardest working women in showbusiness, stratching and clawing her way to the top one bit at a time. The scratching image fit her well, she had such a kittenish beauty about her, even to the slant of her eyes. He liked that, and the swell of her bottom in her too tight Levis, and everything else about her. He wished that she was giggling in the corner with him the way she giggled with her two friends from the label.

“Okay,” said Khrystine.

Even at the sound of her soft feminine voice he felt a warm rush inside. He felt more feelings dreaming about her from a far than he’d felt in dozens of empty encounters otherwise.

He could tell she was ready. Music was in her soul, and the woman truly could not even formulate a note without moving it seemed. She grabbed onto the microphone with both hands, swaying back and forth, and she put more soul into her line than the eight other r&b diva’s he’d heard combined.

“Do that again,” said the engineer.

“I don’t remember what it was I did the first time, I’ll try,” said Khrystine.

The other performers laughed, and she joined in the laughter as well.

He loved that raw soul she had about her. He could hear her saying in interviews that what came out of her mouth that moment was whatever the mood dictated. That jazzy scatting that she did reminded him of what would happen if you took Ella Fitzgerald and put her over some hip hop grooves.

She did it again.

“Okay Ms. Morgan. Take it from the top again,” he added.

She sung her line over five times with feeling. Each different like a snowflake but they each had their own beauty. He silently wondered which one they would choose. She was so much like a snowflake. The different parts of her personality he’d seen so far were all beautiful and different in their own right. He could not believe he was that close to that perfume, that smile, the wounded but tough creature that was Khrystine Morgan. He just had to talk to her, explain himself, apologize for not calling. If he could get her to listen to him, and believe him just this once, he would never let her leave his side again. He could change for her, do whatever she wanted him to do, he could be a better man, no more craziness even in his entourage, if only for the one chance to get to know her, and court her like a proper man would.

***

“Okay everyone, take five now,” said the Engineer.

Khrystine knew it would not be a literal five minutes, it would be longer, but she was glad to be getting any little break now. Her throat was just slightly irritated and she knew they would be singing the chorus together soon. Then with a stomach lurch she remembered that Dylan Taylor was in the back of the recording studio.

She had to block him out of her mind during the recording, or her vocals would have been all over the place. Though her part was over, she wasn’t in any condition to see him. He’d seemed sincere but then turned out to be every inch the playboy, and wild rockstar that the press had portrayed. She didn’t want to even make eye contact with him, for fear that the smooth talking Dylan Taylor would try to inflate her emotions with more cleverly woven falsehoods.

“I need a diet coke,” Khrystine whispered to Cinnamon.

“Just wait and I’ll come,” she added.

“I can’t, I need it now, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” added Khrystine.

As much as she loved cinnamon, she wanted to dart of inconspicuously so that he wouldn’t notice her. She made a get away before the other performers even began to dislodge from the studio, darting off in search of a diet coke machine, and peace of mind.

She saw a machine, off in the corner in a low traffic era as though an oasis in the middle of a soft-drink desert.

“Yes,” she said softly to herself half chuckling about her good fortune at finding a machine so quickly.

She played feed the dollar with the machine as the stupid thing kept returning her money through the slot. After her last ditch effort, it finally took her money, only to fail to dispense her beverage.

Khrystine looked warily at her boots. Though they may be $500 Spencer Greer’s, and the soda was 1.00, she was thirsty and well below her minimal intake of diet coke for the day.

She glanced over her shoulders to make sure that no one was watching, and proceeded to kick the machine.

“Stupid piece of crap, give me my soda,” she murmured punctuating her syllables with kicks.

When it didn’t respond by giving her the soda, she began barging her petite body repeatedly against the side of the machine, when she looked up and heard a masculine male chuckle, which she would recognize anywhere.

“Are you having trouble Khrystine, would you like help,” asked Dylan a comical grin spread across his features.

She felt a sickening thud in her stomach as though accelerating downhill on a roller coaster ride, even as her cheeks filled with warmth. The physical side of her nature was delighted in being eye level with this incredibly good-looking man, but the emotional side of her loathed the cheesy insensitive playboy.

“No, I am fine,” said Khrystine louder and firmer than usual.

“Are you sure? Because it looks as though you were practicing martial arts on that poor soda machine,” said Dylan.

“I am not. It didn’t give me my soda,” said Khrystine spinning on her heels and starting to walk away.

The last thing she was going to do was explain herself to that incurable ladies man and road rouge Dylan Taylor.

“Hey, Hey Khrystine wait,” he said softly tugging onto her shirt sleeve.

“No, you let me go Dylan, I can get a soda somewhere else,” she said looking harshly at the hand that gripped her silk shirt.

Even as his hand gripped her elbow, she wanted more despite loathing him, his hands felt slightly husky and yet hot through the think silk of her shirt, and his fingers radiated sensuality at his soft insistant grip.

She wanted him to let go even more now, because even as he made her seeth with anger, he made her blood boil with desire, and she took possession of her arm again.

“And just get off of me,” she added venomously.

“Woah, woah, woah. Nice to see you too Khrystine,” said Dylan with a soft chuckle.

“Don’t nice to see me Khrystine. Dylan, you, ugh,” murmured Khrystine.

It wasn’t her most articulate moment, but she was at a place where she was so angry that the oratory skills she’d learned in debate class at her prestigious high school were far from her mind.

“Khrystine, I know that there’s been a lot of news about G-Flat-Noise Lately that’s less than favorable and-“

“Less than favorable. Dylan, you are a grown man. You don’t have to answer to me. Really. I don’t need it,” said Khrystine folding her arms over her chest.

She really didn’t want him to buffalo his way through some lame, halfway excuse for his drunken revelry to make himself look better. She was a big girl and well aware that people were not always what they appeared to be from afar. Dylan Taylor, gorgeous male Adonis of a rockstar was still a human after all.

“I know you don’t need it. I need it. I need you to know what happened. I need to explain to you why I didn’t call and why I messed up like this,” he added softly.

His eyes appeared watery. Boy was he laying it on thick. He could audition for any movie at this point. She couldn’t believe a word he said when the Dylan that took her to the pizza joint, and the Dylan that tore up the liberty seemed so different.

“Dylan, to me, there is nothing worse that someone who lies. I mean, the whole thing, with you is unbelievable considering the terms we left on, with you mad at me, because you said I wanted to play games,” added Khrystine.

She didn’t mean to chuckle but she as incredulous that he would even try to explain himself to her after he’d accused her of trifling with his feelings, to wind up in bed with a slut after having trashed a hotel room.

“But I don’t want to play games,” added Dylan.

“Dylan. I’m not a fool. Save that for some of those air-headed bimbos, like that, what’s her name, Megan? I graduated at the top of my class,” spat Khrystine.

“I’m sure you did graduate at the top of your class. If you wanna know the truth Khrystine, I don’t even remember Megan,” added Dylan.

“The poor chick. She certainly remembers you. She’s been remembering you on every TV variety show this week,” snorted Khrystine.

“I know, I know it looks bad but Khrystine, those words I said to you, after we went out, I meant them. I really don’t want anyone to play games with anymore. You are like the first girl I think I’ve ever really been around that I wasn’t trying to run some game on,” added Dylan.

“I should be so lucky. Dylan, I know how you are already okay? You don’t have to be all things to all people just to try to grab up the one girl you can’t figure out. Is that what this is Dylan, seven minutes of difference,” asked Khrystine.

“Seven minutes of difference?” asked Dylan.

“Boy we really do come from different worlds don’t we? Variety? And in this case I’m not sure if it’s the black, white thing, or the r&b diva rock star thing, or the rich girl meets poor boy thing, but I would be a different kind of notch on that belt of yours huh?” added Khrystine backing away from the corner.

“That’s what you think it’s about. Oh Khrystine if I wanted you for a notch on a belt, I wouldn’t be trying to explain myself. I think about you all the time, and I didn’t call because frankly I was ashamed about what happened at the liberty. I don’t remember the events but it caused me such shame because I’m thinking its got me close to loosing the only girl I’ve ever really cared about,” added Dylan.

She hated him for trying to tack on that line at the end to tug at the sensitive fibers of her heart. The part of her that still ached for lance, the part of her believed that the well mannered small town boy she’d eaten pizza with on a secluded hill in busy Los Angeles was a legitimate gentleman.

“Dylan you’re a liar and,”

She felt Dylan reach out for her gently, as though she was dreaming and slide his arms around her waist. Even as she felt it was happening she was powerless to resist. Her heart raced and her palms were sweaty, her throat taught with so much anger she could feel her heart beating in her throat. His arms were hard, and muscular and held her petite body close to his own chest and she was powerless within his grip. Her knees weakened, but every resolve she had to fight his arms from around her had fled.

She looked up at him like a deer in headlights, her bottom lip quivering. She began shivering, composed Khrystine Morgan began to quiver like so much newly formed jello with the intensity of her attraction to this man, the boyish innocence of his hazel eyes in perfect contrast to the chiseled features of his face, his long bandana wrapped hair tousled and ready to be ruffled. The way he took her captive rendered her paralyzed to open her mouth and even utter a sound, certainly a changing of the guards as she was used to being the one in control.

At 6’3” he had to bend down considerably to make eye contact with her 5’4” frame, and she was in heels. He laced his arms under her arms, pulling her close to him, slightly lifting just the heels of her boots of the ground and she could smell the sweet but spicy scent of his cologne. He exhaled a ragged groan, moving his head close towards hers, and instinctively her lips parted.

She felt his hot, moist mouth close over her bottom lip sucking once, twice, three times before she even was able to mutter softly. Remembering those thin red lips and the way they tantalized her at every syllable he uttered, she gently began to tease his top lip in like turn, his lips surprisingly delicate even with the passion he suckled her bottom lip with.

He uttered a guttural groan and began to tease the perimeter of her mouth with his tongue. It was sweeter than when she’d bit into fresh sugar cane on the islands, and when he teased her, the way he slowly seductively circled just the tip of her tongue made her feel a longing between her slender thighs that begged for her to answer her yearnings with a kiss. She could not just yield to him and allow herself to be silently kissed, even as he filled her with rage, it was perhaps the anger she felt toward him, his audaciousness and his devil may care attitude that made her reach around and grab the locks of his hair aggressively, shocked that his hair could be so soft and curly, thrusting her tongue eagerly, greedily toward more of the source of her nectar.

Two more guttural groans were uttered and then as though they were locked up in an ancient battle for tribal supremacy, she led him until he dominated her, and the cycle reversed, her feelings mired with both passion and aggressive anger.

He very gently removed his lips from hers, resuming to suckling her bottom lip gently, and when he did this, Khrystine, no longer drugged by her passionate feelings for Dylan, and the long repressed need to step close to the fire and understand what power this man different unlike any she’d ever know held over her, extricated herself from his grasp.

Her breathing was still ragged from the flames that had ravaged her hungry lips, and were welling up torrents between the apex of her thighs, and her lips began to quiver with anger. She reached up toward him and slapped him across the left side of his face with such intensity that his head spun toward the right.

“You bastard, you think you can make me forget about all the conniving things you’ve done with a smoldering kiss. Dylan, I’m not a slut, I’m not one of your little groupy girls,” she said angrily, wiping a bit of the moisture from her lips with the back of her hand.

“Khrystine, I know you aren’t, you are in fact the only woman I’ve ever meant that seems to be about something, and the fact is I like you so much that I-“

“Dylan what you wanna ruin me? Is that what you are trying to do. Just leave me alone okay. Stay far away from me,” said Khrystine.

It seemed as though he was trying to do a number on her career. He just would not leave her alone. She did not want to be tied up with a person with more bad press than a third world dictator. She didn’t think he was sincere at all, if anything, that kiss he gave her proved that he was really only interested in getting to know her physically. And she hated Dylan more because that one kiss was better than anything she’d ever felt, even the hour long kissing sessions she used to have in the back of Lance’s Mercedes Benz. Why did he want to confuse her senses, anyone who looked the way Dylan did, and acted the way Dylan did couldn’t be right for her. All he ever did was make her goof up, act out of character, and forget where she was.

Why couldn’t he just leave her alone and find another Megan.

“Khrystine, no I wanna talk to you,” added Dylan.

“You just wanna bed me, you don’t wanna talk to me. Leave me alone,” she screamed, turning her back to him and swiftly marching away.

She certainly did not want him to see her crying. He didn’t really care, no one had really cared but Lance. JaQuon wanted to use her, Derek Thompson wanted photo ops, and Dylan Taylor wanted seven minutes of difference. What hurt the most was that Dylan melted her heart in ways she couldn’t fathom but he was as insincere and phony as they came. He may seem like a wisiwig guy, but to play the sentimental angle with a woman who he knew would not be content to just be a groupy was the ultimate low.

Why did he have to be the only one with the power to make her body tremble the way she imagined it felt when two people came together in the highest form of passion with just a single kiss?

She returned to the studio in a huff, with no diet coke in hand. Dylan never returned to the set that day to wrap up his part of the recording. She was glad, for if he was not around, he would not be disturbing her thought patterns, or making her nervous. The best thing to do at this point was block the smoldering kiss out of her mind. No matter how steamy that kiss was, or how charming he had presented herself to be, he was a two-timing conniving playboy, only concern with running the wildest show in town, on and off the set.

- posted by Mahogany @ 2:59 PM

 
Chapter 9 Part 1
“They asked me to do it?” shrieked Khrystine.

“Yeah, they did. And what’s better, you even get a line in the song,” added Mike.

The song he was referring to was a Call Against Arms a celebrity fundraiser engineered by one of the greatest pop producers of all time.

She was so excited that they asked her to participate. It truly wasn’t only because the list of performers was nearly guaranteed to be A-list, and inclusion meant that she was considered in this class as well, but she wanted to give something back.

The world had been her audience for the past year, and if she could make a small contribution to improving that world she felt privileged to have the chance. World peace, asking developed countries to cut down on their manufacturing of war weapons was truly a worthy ideal.

She was in Chicago, performing at various radio station promotional events when she got the call. It led to an immediate rescheduling of one appearance, and she boarded a commuter jet to go to New York.

Though the flight was short, she was beginning to cherish flights. They gave her time to think, and time was in short supply nowadays.

She was glad she’d patched things up with JaQuon, because she was nearing the end of the shelf life for her debut album, and needed to go into the woodshed with fresh ideas for her next effort.

She and Jaquon could do anything musically when they put their minds together. And the brillance in their sound was worth the trouble it was to fight off his romantic overtures. She didn’t want love right now, she didn’t want anything she couldn’t “schedule”. And when she did want love, she most certainly didn’t want it with a notorious playboy. If that delicious, virile Dylan Taylor couldn’t sway her to become involved with a playboy, no man could.

Cruel irony as it was, when she needed to be comforted from a long bout of thinking about Lance, she was soothed by feeling Dylan’s strong arms around her, mumuring not to forget that there were people here now that cared for her. Was he even being phony then?

He made her so angry. Since then, she’d been seeing that little floosy from the Libretarian everywhere, even though Dylan had made no comments to the press. She was sure though that he’d probably been involved in the wild mess, and that hotel room looked totally trashed, like a bunch of alcoholics went on a lusty rampage, there was tattered furniture, broken lights. How could she have associated with someone who would do something like that? Even before she was famous, associating with someone like that would have been a Morgan taboo.

That might not have been the only floosy he had that night either. She was probably just the most outspoken. Oh he was such a fraud. She looked out of the window and her eyes rimmed with water.

She’d wanted to believe that someone could genuinely be caring for the sake of that. She’d also wanted to believe that someone could understand her pain about lance. And maybe, perhaps she’d pushed him away by being so hardened, and that was why he found that loose woman so appealing that night at the Liberty.

Khrystine could not help her extra caution though, her thick shell protected her feelings. It took her this far in life. The minute she let someone inside it blew up in her face. It already had.

***

She had not even bothered to look at who else was on the roster to sing at A Call to Arms. Nor did she know how she could find out this information now, but she was sure there were many people she’d used to idolize among them, and now she would be singing with them. What was more, they gave her a line. Only 17 of the 50 performers there had a distinct line in the song, instead of just singing along with the chorus. It meant that she had a recognizable voice, and maybe it meant she was ascending in the ranks.

Khrystine was casually chic in her white silk blouse, unbuttoned to the middle of her cleavage, her black jeans, and white and black leopard print boots. When she arrived at the hotel where she would be staying, a limo was already waiting, and she got wisked away before she even got a chance to check in. She was sure that her assistant would check in for her.

She did vocal warm-ups on the way over. They helped assuage her nervousness, and prepared her in case she didn’t have ample time to warm up. She was running late, behind schedule, and after she’d finished her warm-ups she begged-

“Can you please step on it a little faster sir. I’m late, I just got in from Chicago. This is a big benefit, and I need to get there, speed, do whatever,” added Khrystine with more fear in her voice than a demand.

“Ms. Morgan, I’m stepping on it as fast as I can. I can only go as fast as the traffic in front of me,” added the driver.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just bouncing on the walls and there’s no one here I can talk to,” added Khrystine squaring her shoulders and correcting her posture.

She always corrected her posture, but especially when she was nervous.

“Listen, I saw you on that big MTV thingy. If you do what you did up there, you’ll be fine. What’d they put in lungs like those anyway,” asked the gentleman.

“Aww, thank you. I really couldn’t say. I guess lots of great love songs and a lot of faith. I’m sorry I was jumpy earlier,” added Khrystine.

“Ms. Morgan, it’s okay. You were jumpy, but you weren’t rude. Driving a limo, I get to see everything, believe you me. And here we are. Ever been to the Lyrical Lair,” he asked.

“Never, I’ve always dreamed about recording here though. I cut my last LP at 2:00 AM recording sessions in a tiny booth with a four track mixing deck. I never thought I’d be here,” she added.

He asked for her autograph before she got out of the limo, and she raced into the studio, darted past security without identifying herself and scrambled around the Lyrical Lair building in search of the infamous Studio C.

Studio C was where many classics that she’d loved were cut. And now she was going to record within these hallowed Halls.

There were many different booths in the complex, and by the time she finally found it, she was breathless. She couldn’t just walk in there out of breath and poorly composed. She took a few deep breaths, squared her shoulders, and made a cursory glance down at her attire. Convinced she still looked okay, she glanced down at her watch. She was late, and she knew when she opened the door, all eyes would be on her.

She opened the door to the mixing booth and saw the recording light was on in the glass partition below where the artists were recording. She was so anxious about being late, she didn’t even bother to see who was down there. Hopefully some Gold Tone Artists had been asked to do the single, so she would know someone down there. The studio engineers glanced up in her direction.

“Ms. Morgan, you are late,” said the studio engineer sitting at the mixing boards.

“I know, and I’m sorry. It couldn’t be avoided. I got the first flight in I could from Chicago,” added Khrystine.

“We’ll cut her some slack. We better, the writeup about this has already went to Top 100 radio, they’ll be expecting that voice. You go on down there the next time we have to cut,” added the other engineer.

Khrystine was still to nervous to scan the crowd, but she heard the distinctive voice of Vanessa Miller, a female pop star she’d idolized when she was younger. She had died and gone to heaven, she would be on a track with people she’d only emulated before.

Vanessa goofed on one of the runs, and the sound engineer motioned for Khrystine to go down to the recording area. Opening the glass door slowly she made her entrance, just beginning to scan the crowd.

She saw Cinnamon, and Billz, a rapper from her record label, but everyone was silent. It was embarrassing as though she was a school girl walking into American History class late until Billz whooped.

“Khrystine, Khrystine, you look so clean,” said Billz in his characteristic rap drawl.

She was glad he’d acted happy to see her, because it eased the tension she felt about being late. She also was glad to see Billz, and Cinnamon, familiar faces in a sea of performers whose visages she hadn’t begun to scrutinize. All eyes were on her, the only one late.

“Thanks Billz, I’m glad to be here,” said Khrystine.

“Glad you made it Khrystine I was getting worried,” added Cinnamon.

“I’m glad too. Hello everyone, I’m sorry I’m late, but it couldn’t be helped. They just asked me to be on this single at the last minute, and I had to get a flight in from Chicago,” added Khrystine.

People muttered their hellos aloofly and Khrystine scanned the crowd, waving her hello. Her heart stopped in her throat when she finally reached the last face in the back row closest to the left side of the wall. It was Dylan Taylor. Her stomach felt so queasy that she gently gripped her torso with one hand.

He couldn’t be here. She had hardly expected him to be on this benefit single. After the stunt he’d pulled at the Libertarian, and hearing that bimbo Megan talk about their indiscretion, she was hoping she’d never see him again. And here she was thrown in the midst of him again. At least it was a benefit single, there were fifty musicians here, and she could probably avoid him if necessary. Why did he have to be so handsome, his curly brown hair tied back under a bandana, his open leather jacket doing little to hide his olive muscular chest. She had to force her eyes to look away from his gleaming pectorals even as she loathed him.

She made eye contact with everyone but him, and quickly disappeared into the thick of the crowd to take a space beside Cinnamon and Billz, near the very front of the studio, where the mixing booth was partitioned from the rest of the studio.

Cinnamon put her arm around Khrystine’s shoulders.

“You okay girl? You look sick,” added Khrystine.

“Really I look bad,” shrieked Khrystine softly, combing her fingers through her hair.

“Naw, you don’t look bad. You look like you saw a ghost though,” said Billz.

“Really,” said Khrystine.

“Yeah,” said Cinnamon.

Khrystine consciously relaxed her expression, realizing she’d been looking like a deer caught in headlights, and looked back over at Cinnamon.

“Better?” asked Khrystine.

“Yeah. Don’t be so uptight girl. It’s only music. We know you didn’t mean to be late even if everyone else doesn’t,” added Cinnamon.

Cinnamon had no idea. She wasn’t uptight because she was late, things happened. It was being confronted by that handsome, arrogant, playboy Dylan Taylor without warning that had set her nerves into motion. Could she avoid him? If not what would she saw to him? What would he say to her. Even though she was thrilled to be at the benefit, if she’d known Dylan would be here, she wasn’t sure if she would have accepted the invitation to help. She’d been fairly successful at shaking him from her psyche but she knew her hormones would not be tamed into submission being in such close quarters with handsome Dylan Taylor. Also, deep down, she felt betrayed seeing pictures of that sleazy Megan beginning to pop up all over TV, and in pictures talking about the incident in the Libertarian which may well wind up being one of the biggest court cases of the year.

Khrystine was happy to hear Vanessa Miller begin her vocal riff again, for she knew that it was time to concentrate on singing and that would free her mind of the cognition that Dylan Taylor was 100 feet behind her somewhere in the crowd. She picked up Cinnamon’s sheet music, scanning the lines. She always went someplace else where she sang, into a sphere where nothing else mattered. No one could ruin that, even that irrepressible bad boy Dylan Taylor.

***

- posted by Mahogany @ 4:55 PM

 
Chapter 8 Part 2
Over the next few weeks, Khrystine thought about Dylan often. Her heart began to soften and she wished the date with Dylan went smoothly. He took her by surprise by asking her back to his place to play videogames. When she looked back on the kindness that Dylan had shown, he’d probably been sincere when he asked her back to his home.

Several times she thought about calling him, but he’d scared her away by making it clear that he didn’t want any indecisiveness on her part. She was afraid that he would read any signs that he was moving to fast as indecisiveness. Frankly, though she found him physically appealing, gorgeous, tan, muscular, with those percing hazel eyes and gorgeous curly hair, and enjoyed his easy going personality, she wasn’t sure how compatible they were. Their personalities, interests, goals, even their singing styles were polar opposites.

Though they hadn’t made contact, she missed their conversations, his gruff laughter, and even that slightly unsure way he had around her sometimes. When he talked to her, when he’d comforted her on the hill, he’d seemed so sincere that when she played back his actions in her mind, they left less room for doubt. Even though they didn’t know each other well his concern and care seemed genuine. And when she thought about it, the invitation to play the game was probably out of his concern that she was uptight and career oriented all the time.

He’d even asked her if she was afraid she’d “enjoy herself”. Maybe that was what was wrong. She enjoyed herself around Dylan too much and it frightened her.

***

Khrystine sat beside Monique on her plush leather couch. Monique had a big bowl of popcorn on her lap, but Khrystine was munching on rice cakes. They were engaging in their usual channel surfing, and personal grooming, Khrystine was letting her toenails air-dry.

“I find it amazing that you have so many channels Khrys, and there’s never anything on any of them,” chuckled Monique.

“I know. But why don’t you turn on the Entertainment Channel. It’s always nice when nothing else is on. Maybe we’ll get to see some movie previews,” added Khrystine.

“We might even see you Khrystine. I never thought that we would be watching the TV, and the possibility of seeing you would be there. You’re on all the time now,” added Monique.

“Yeah. It’s still really weird. I haven’t been doing this all that long. I don’t think I’ll be on there today though, I haven’t done anything people would be interested in,” added Khrystine.

“Not this week. We’ll tune in next week for you, this week will tune in for other people,” chuckled Monique.

“How many hairstyles is she gonna go through before she learns that blond just isn’t her color,” chuckled Khrystine.

She was referring to a popular actress who had recently changed her beautiful brown hair to several different incarnations of platinum blonde.

“I bet she gets more roles though. You know Hollywood loves a blonde,” added Monica.

That story was just finishing, and the screen of the actress faded back to the entertainment commentators.

“In related news, Dylan Taylor, Andrew Carson, and Larry Andrews, you know them as the incurable bad-boys of popular hard rock band G-note flat, find themselves in trouble with the Hotel Management of the Prestigious Libertarian Hotel chain,” said the announcer.

“Hey Khrystine, aren’t they the band you went to see…isn’t that the guy you think is so hot,” added Monique.

“Yes, shush,” added Khyrstine gripping Monique’s knee.

She thought things had been quiet with G-note flat lately. Before she was famous, she remembered them getting tons of press about their notoriously wild parties.

“We have with us a young woman that was in the Libertarian when G-note flat apparently demolished the building,” added the newscaster.

“My name is Megan and I was there. I was with Dylan Taylor. We were back in our own private suite when a lot of the damage occurred, so we still aren’t all that sure what happened. But Dylan is a really, really nice guy, and G-note is a great band, and I don’t think they meant to cause a lot of damage. I think it was a party that got out of control, and it was more the fault of the enterouge that was with the band, than G-note,” added Megan.

“So you say it was the fault of the hangers on,” confirmed the newscaster.

“Oh totally. The guys were more into us than what was going on that night,” added Megan.

“So you and Dylan Taylor have something going on,” confirmed the newscaster.

“Umm, yeah,” said Megan smiling into the camera.

“Did he let you leave your toothbrush,” chuckled the newscaster, repeating the famous G-note epithet.

“No,” said Megan.

“Well, that’s a clear indicator of how serious this thing is then huh?” said the Newscaster

The footage cut to a clip of Dylan in the earlier g-note days, when his hair was a bit shorter and he wasn’t quite as muscular. He did his characteristic hair flip and muttered.

“Nah, I’m not serious about anyone. I never let any chick leave her toothbrush. They gotta leave with whatever they brought when they came,” he said curtly.

“Well Dylan Taylor may not be serious about Megan, but the Libertarian is apparently serious about suing G-note for one hundred thousand dollars worth of damages. Lets hope Mr. Taylor leaves with whatever he brought to the Hotel Chain, before the lawsuit,” said the Newscaster.

“I can’t believe it. That conniving, sneaky bastard. He lied to me,” said Khrystine incredulously.

“Lied to you? What are you talking about,” said Monique.

“What am I talking about he just,”

“Wrecked a hotel establishment,” said Monique.

“Yeah but I thought he was different than that,” spat Khrystine, crossing her arms.

“What gave you that impression. You met the man, went backstage with him, and you said he was a huge flirt, and that they were wild,” added Monique.

“Yeah but he. Listen I gotta tell you something Nique’. I held out on you,” added Khyrstine.

“Held out on me how?” asked Monique.

“Well Dylan and I, remember the day I went on the photo shoot and afterward I was kinda bummed? Well Dylan and I saw eachother at a function, and he asked me out the next afternoon. So I said yes,” added Khrystine.

“You did what?” added Monique.

“Well at the function, he was so nice to me, and he seemed genuine, and level headed, and he was just honest, and open, so I talked to him. I liked talking to him. So I gave him my number. We talked again that night and he asked me out,” added Khrystine.

“And you went out with him,”

“Yeah I did. We had a really great time,” said Khrystine softly.

“Dylan Taylor. G-note Dylan and you had a good time. Well pigs must really fly. So why then is he a sneaky and conniving bastard, because that little barfly was with him when they tore the liberty down to its foundation. Are you really surprised,” asked Monique softly to her friend.

“Yeah Monique, I’m suprised. I don’t know he seemed different from the Dylan I saw on TV before. I didn’t tell you about us going out because I knew you wouldn’t understand,” said Khrystine.

“Understand, we have been friends since grade school. Of course I understand you. You’ve had a big crush on Dylan Taylor for a long time, and you are in a position most people dream of, being able to meet one of their favorite celebrities. Of course I understand you being flattered by him asking you out and wanting to see what he was like,” added Monique.

“Yeah, I did want to see what he was like, but it was more than that. If you’d met him at the function…he seemed funny, and down to earth, and charming, even a little shy. And I liked him a lot. Even that night, on the phone, he was cute, I mean, he even stammered a little when he asked me out. So I said yes, and we had a wonderful time,” said Khrystine.

“I’m sure that you did. And he might have seemed shy. Guys like Dylan are experts at being all things that women want them to become. That’s why there are playboys, and Casanovas in the world, they are good at sensing what women like. There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to Dylan, but you just gotta know that whatever he does around you, and however nicely he acts, he’s more in tune to that guy we just saw on the screen than anything else,” said Monique.

“He didn’t seem like that before we saw that interview. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy. He took me out for pizza, showed me how he restored his car, and showed me a breathtaking view of L.A, he was mad that I didn’t wanna go back to his house and play a videogame that I like,” added Khrystine.

“Khrystine, you really don’t believe that do you? I mean, I thought you were gullible because you believed in the tooth fairy till we were in middle school but this takes the cake. You’ve grown up into a smart woman. You really think Dylan Taylor, Mr. She never leaves a toothbrush wants to play videogames with you?” chuckled Monique.

“Well after seeing this show, I don’t believe it, but I sure did believe he really meant it when we went out. Why would he lie to me? Why would he try to appear as though he took a sincere interest in me as a human being and not a groupie? Did he really think that I would give into him so easy? And to think I was gonna apologize for being so blunt with him and not wanting to visit his home,” said Khrystine softly.

“Apologize? But you hardly know him. And you know the only reason he wanted you alone was so he could,”

“I’m starting to believe that. I could kill him. He really put it on thick. I let him see too much of me too. I don’t know how I could have been so stupid,” snorted Khrystine.

“You weren’t being stupid Khrys. You’re just lonely, that’s all, and you acted out on that feeling. That’s a normal feeling. It’s been five years Khrystine, since you’ve felt all the feelings young women feel. You’ve been going nonstop after this career, and you’re starting to get what you want. I thought you’d be turning into a playgirl by now, with all these Hollywood guys after you, but its good you are keeping a level head. So you need a nice levelheaded guy. Crushes, dating childhood fantasies for fun is great, but don’t let all that cloud your judgment. I love you, and I’d kill him if he hurt you,” chuckled Monique.

Khrystine laughed too.

“I know you would. Monique. You are always there when I need you. You are right, I was feeling lonely, and acting out of character. I mean I like him, and I think some of what he showed me might have been real, but it is so obvious that he’s still a playboy. Did you see that floozy? She had enough hairspray and fake breast implants to put the girls on the Beach Patrol to shame. And what about that gum snapping? She was soo tacky and gross, she looked loose,” chuckled Khrystine.

“Yeah but she looks like a rocker dude type. The busty implants…the tall blonde hair, and she has a flexible tongue,” laughed Monique.

“Yeah, and she’s a real airhead, I’m sure they like her just fine,” added Khrystine.

She felt insanely jealous inside, and didn’t know why. She had rebuffed Dylan Taylor’s request for more of her attention. They technically weren’t going out, so it wasn’t as though he couldn’t see another woman. Yet she found herself wondering what was so special about this woman. He’d talked to Khrystine as though he believed she were the most sophisticated, classy woman on the face of the earth. If he really believed that, how could he be attracted to such a barfly bimbo? The cynical part of Khrystine wondered if Dylan had been after her so much because she was black. Maybe he wanted a little variety. Couldn’t get more different than a black r&b diva if you are a hard rock superstar. That girl on the show was his type.

His only long standing interest in her was to provide an additional notch on a longstanding belt of conquests. He would probably like to be known as the first Hollywood man to conquer her. Then her image would be tarnished for good, Khrystine Morgan, r&b pop singer, and a member of Dylan Taylor’s slutty harem.

If she never saw that phony Dylan Taylor again, it would be too soon.

- posted by Mahogany @ 8:25 PM

 
Chapter 8 Part 1
G-note was quickly on the move again. They traveled to the next stop on the itinerary, Chicago with little incident outside of doing some local press before the show.

Dylan was not necessarily sad to be leaving L.A. to continue touring even though it was the site of his second home. The city was quickly becoming a bad memory for him. When he was there he though of Khrystine, and his thoughts turned from intrigue, confusion, and anger as he discovered an inability to connect with her on any level. She had no trouble relating to that Derek Thompson.



“You’re just bummed because you couldn’t sack her, if you’d gotten her, you wouldn’t be thinking about her now,” said Ant.

“Nah man, she’s special,” said Dylan softly.

“Special because she’s the first girl you’ve wanted but haven’t bagged since G-note, am I right,” said Ant.

“No. I, I think I like her a lot, but she doesn’t appear to like me,” added Dylan.

“’Course she doesn’t like you. You’ve met someone adept at your own game. She’s a playgirl,” said Larry Saucily.

“You don’t know that. That could be just a picture, people just take pictures all the time,” added Dylan.

“Well if it is just a picture, you sure seem mad about it,” said Larry.

“I’m not mad,” said Dylan running his hands through his hair.

“Yeah you are,” said Larry.

They continued talking about it before the show, and Dylan realized that this was the first time they had a conversation about a woman that extended beyond anatomy. He felt hot faced and ashamed. Khyrstine probably belonged with someone like Derek, instead of him he didn’t deserve her.

The show that night was off. Dylan knew it was because he was thinking about Khrystine. The last time he’d played Howling Woman she was front and center. And he wanted her to be his howling woman, though he knew that this was not the most pure thought.

“Man you were off tonight,” scolded Larry.

“I know, and I’m sorry man,” said Dylan sipping his beer.

“Don’t worry about it, happens to the best of them,” said Larry.

“Even AC/DC,” asked Dylan playfully.

“Yeah, even AC/DC. Man I’ve got just what you need. Come on, put that axe away,” said Larry pointing at Dylan’s Guitar.

He followed Larry, stowing his guitar in the dressing room.

Larry waved ant over who was escorted by three vivacious women, one blonde, one redhead, and one brunette.

They were wearing too tall hair, too short of dresses, and too much makeup for his taste. Funny that he never though that before, but there was none of the elegance to temper the sexiness. That was what Khrystine had, elegance to go along with all that kittenish sensuality. Their hair was overteased, they’d probably used 10 cans of hairspray collectively. Khrystine’s hair was beautiful and looked as though you could just walk up to her and run your fingers through it. He was doing it again, thinking of Khrystine. She was becoming the standard by which he judged everything, and she didn’t know he was alive.

One of the women pulled her bubble gum out twirling it around her finger.

“So we leaving or what?” she asked one of the women.

“Yeah babes, right away. Dylan’s been feeling kind of down lately, so I hope one of you ladies can be really, really nice to him. Why don’t the one of you’s that think you can be the nicest to him keep Dylan company,” added Larry.

“NO,” said Dylan firmly as the blond took Dylan’s arm.

“What’s the matter Dylan, come on, the security guard says they missed half the show just to come and meet us,” said Larry.

“You ladies want some autographs. I’m really tired. We just flew in from L.A. and,”

“Come on Dylan, one little drinky poo? So I can tell all my friends I had a beer with Dylan Taylor,” asked the blonde.

“Oh alright, what can it hurt. Budweiser it’ll be,” said Dylan.

Ant had called the limo service, and the service brought them back to The Libertarian, the five-star Hotel where they were staying.

Dylan did not like the idea of the girls going back to the hotel with them. He didn’t want to reinforce the image of G-note being a band with lots of groupies anymore. He wanted to be a different man, interested in more than just quick encounters with strange women. But he felt depressed because Khrystine had rebuffed him.

The blonde that was supposedly keeping him company clung to his arm and ran her finger over the bridge of his nose. It didn’t give him the jolt it usually did.

“Quit that,” said Dylan softly, hoarsely.

“What’s on your mind anyway?” asked the girl.

“You wanna know what’s really on my mind,” asked Dylan.

“Yeah,” said the girl, snapping her gum.

“How much I’d rather be somewhere else with a very special person,” said Dylan.

“I’ll be all the special person you need tonight,” promised the blonde girl.

***

Dylan never remembered leaving the limousine. He must have been totally smashed by the time they arrived back at the hotel room. His temples throbbed and his throat felt parched.

Worse, he could hear someone was loudly playing music in another part of the huge hotel suite.

He didn’t quite feel like opening his eyes, but he could see through his eyelids that he’d left the light on.

He opened his eyes slowly determined to shut the light off without staring directly into the light, thus aggravating his pounding headache.

His dulled senses could not prepare him for what he saw.

“Wow Dylan, you could sleep through anything,” said a femine voice.

He rubbed his eyes and realized she was the woman from backstage, and the limozine.

“What are you doing here?” asked Dylan.

His stomach felt sick. It wasn’t an entirely unusual situation to wake up in bed beside a strange woman for him, but that was pre-Khrystine. Whether he could win her to his side or not, he wanted to change, become a more virtuous man, one who had more inside of him than empty philandering. This woman beside him represented a failure of his dream, even if his senses were too dull to remember what happened between them.

“I’m keeping you company. You kept calling me Khrystine. But my real name is Megan. And I never got my autographed,” chuckled Megan.

Boy, she sounded as spacy as they came.

“When was I calling you Khrystine, I don’t remember any of it,” added Dylan.

“Well you seemed pretty out of it. Don’t worry about it, it comes with the territory. I mean, I’m with Dylan Taylor, and that’s the stuff dreams are made of, so I don’t really care,” added the Blonde.

How could he ask her what occurred between the two of them. If something did happen between the two of them and he didn’t remember she was likely to feel insulted. If something didn’t happen, she might think he wished it to occur. Would she be truthful about it either way if he asked? And if he’d been irresponsible enough not to remember what happened, if something did happen, he was probably not protected.

God, He didn’t deserve a woman like Khrystine. She was still crying over her dead boyfriend like an innocent. He knew she’d never do anything like this. He felt dirty and disgusted with himself.


“I, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Well, it’s nice meeting you Megan, even under these circumstances,” added Dylan.

“Yeah, you too. I want you to sign me,” said Megan.

She started to lift her blouse.

“Woah. Let me find some album or something and I’ll sign that,” added Dylan.

“You know, my girlfriends told me you were really wild. Maybe you are just out of it. You seem pretty tame to me,” added Megan.

Dylan shuffled through the drawers until he found some promotional materials.

“I did used to be more wild. But something changed. Here,” he said handing her signed glossy photos and a few promotional cds.

“This is weird megan, but goodnight,” said Dylan shaking her hand.

“That’s it?” asked Megan.

“Well, yeah. I need to go back to my own suite,” said Dylan.

The music was getting even louder and Dylan could have floated to his suite by himself on the sheer propensity of the smell of the smoke. G-note had rented the entire floor at the Libertarian during their stay, but the noise from the party was beginning to get so loud that his own ears rang. He heard a crash and a bang, and knew that a very expensive piece of furniture had been broken.

As he was exiting the suite, hotel staff was preparing to enter the suite.

“Mr. Taylor, we’ve gotten complaints about the noise. Would you mind telling me what’s going on in there,” said the staff member.

“I’m not quite sure myself. It’s just a party that’s gotten way out of hand. I’m going to my own suite. Feel free to say whatever you need to say to anyone in the room,” said Dylan stepping aside.

He washed his hands of the entire mess. While he loved his bandmates, and enjoyed the music, the crazy party lifestyle they tried to drag him into constantly was beginning to wear on his nerves. He was irritated at himself for waking up finding himself in bed with a strange girl, and even more irritated that he’d had more than one too many beers and his performance would be suffering tomorrow for sure.

He wasn’t gonna ever amount to anything worthy of Khrystine, and maybe his press was more accurate than he gave them credit for. Maybe all he would be cut out to be was a hardheaded playboy rockstar. He certainly made all the wrong decisions and tried to absolve responsibility for him. Khrystine was tea in the Hampton’s, and he was beer at the redneck motorcycle club. Didn’t matter what the staff said to g-note, or if the hotel called the cops, they weren’t gonna change. Could he change for the better?

***

- posted by Mahogany @ 3:50 PM

 
Chapter 7 Part 3
Dylan and his band members were in the midst of a heated rehearsal. Every time they played this song, Larry missed the high-hat cymbal.

“You missed it again. God Larry you can’t do that live. That sets off the guitar solo,” snapped Dylan.

“Dude, what’s crawled up your butt? You’ve been snapping at me all day,” quipped Larry.

“I haven’t you’ve been missing the cue all day,” said Dylan, miffed, running his fingers through his hair.

“Okay everyone, it’s time to take five, too much tension going on, I’m gonna have a smoke,” said Ant.

“I’m just gonna go outside to get some air,” said Larry moving in the other direction.

Dylan stood watching his band members walk in the opposite direction.

He pulled a chair towards himself and sat down, noodling with the tune he’d started yesterday.

“I can’t make her come to me no more,” he murmured again and again, this time hashing out a more intricate riff than he had the first time.

It would fit nicely over the chord progression of the song.

“What’s that you’re playing,” said Larry.

“A song,” said Dylan softly.

“Smarty, I know that. Is it an old blues song,” said Larry.

“Nah man, I wrote it. Sorry I just snapped at you, just then and earlier. I’m not in a good mood,” said Dylan.

“I can tell. Hey man, that was a really good tune. Is it finished?” asked Larry

“Nah, always a work in progress. I think it always will be, I won’t ever figure it all out as long as I live,” he added softly.

Larry gave him a puzzled glance.

Dylan resumed his playing and Ant returned to the room.

“Sweet riff dude. Is that our next single,” asked Ant.

“Nah. It’s not finished yet. I can’t believe you all like this. It’s slow,” said Dylan.

“Not slow, slower than what we are used to. It’s sexy,” chuckled Ant.

Fitting that a song he pinned when he thought about Khrystine would be viewed as sexy. That woman was the epitome of all things sexy.

They continued with their rehearsals things moving along better than before their break. Over the course of an hour, Dylan was satisfied with their progress.

“We’ll be already set to pound these things out when we get to the studio,” said Dylan, turning off his amp and unplugging his guitar.

As they were packing up, Ant waved him over.

“Hey dude I saved something for you. I saw it in the paper this morning,” said Ant.

“In the paper,” said Dylan quizzically taking the article from his bandmate’s hand.

As soon as he glanced at the picture he knew who it was, the breath taking Khrystine, her gorgeous pouty lips curled into a soft smile, hair delicately framing her shoulders.

“Gosh, she’s beautiful even in black and white pictures,” he stammered like a little boy.

He turned the page, scanning the rest of the article. In the corner of next page, he saw a picture of Khrystine, and Derek Thompson. He had his arm plastered around Khrystine, and she was brining from ear to ear now, none of the seductive pouting of the former pose.

He felt his lip quiver with the intensity of his jealousy. Here he was thinking he should call her, and he’d been too hard on her the previous day when she said she had another engagement.

This was the other engagement. The caption read:

Toast of the Town two Hollywood Hot shots, Derek Thompson, and Khrystine Morgan clubbing at the Indigo.

And he thought she had interviews she wanted to be fresh for today. Some interviews. He’d been beaten at his own game, but this time, he didn’t want to play, he was serious. It served him right that fate was being such a cruel master.

He believed the vulnerability he saw at their little picnic pizza lunch, and had comforted her. She may have been truly hurting at one point, but she’d allowed herself to be so hurt by her boyfriend’s death, that perhaps she’d taken to being a playgirl.

He couldn’t fathom how else she could go out with him in the afternoon, and go out with Derek that evening. But maybe she didn’t consider it a date. Who was he kidding, he didn’t even know how to ask a woman out on a date. And that Derek cat was a lot more dapper than he was. He looked perfect for her, with the Italian suit, his neatly cut hair, plus he was black. How could he compete with this multiple Oscar nominee, conservative black guy for the attentions of Khrystine? Did she even want him to compete for her attentions?

He wished that was him holding Khrystine in that picture. It could never be him though, because he didn’t hobnob with the industry folks, he didn’t feel comfortable.

And the more he thought about how angry she’d acted at the suggestion of spending more time with him, the more he felt like a fool. She probably thought it was childish of him to want to take her back to the house to play some videogames, when this Derek person took her to all the fancy spots like the Indigo. She was probably off somewhere with him right now, or some other Hollywood playboy, laughing at how corny Dylan Taylor was.

He’d comforted her with the sincerest portions of his heart, and he’d shared with her things that he shared only with his closest buddies with out even knowing her, and this was the thanks he’d gotten. Karma was teaching him a lesson right now. He’d done it a million times to other women, and now it was happening to him, with the one he really cared about.

He angrily crumpled the article in a ball after finishing it, and Ant gawked at him.

“What’s wrong with you,” said Ant dumbfounded.

“Nothing. She’s not so hot anyway,” said Dylan, squeezing the article further into a ball, as though trying to demolish it from memory.

“Could’ve fooled me. You’ve been drooling at her since you first saw that video,” said Ant.

Ant’s statement embarrassed him in his present state of mind.

“Yeah well, she’s real shallow and spoiled,” spat Dylan.

“Shallow, spoiled? What happened to all this wanting to get to know people and treat them as human beings,” said Ant.

“I did get to know her, and she is a shallow and spoiled human being,” snapped Dylan.

“Since when have you cared. How much did you know her Dylan, oh man, did you,”

“No, I didn’t,” snapped Dylan.

“Oh that’s it. She wouldn’t let you. Is that why you don’t like her. Now that I think of it she seems like she wouldn’t be an easy pushover,” said Ant.

“No it isn’t like that at all. Look, I don’t wanna talk about it okay. She’s beautiful sure, but all that glitter’s ain’t gold, surely you know that by now,” said Dylan.

“Yeah, and I know you’ve bagged fools gold by the truck bed full, it never stopped you before,” laughed Ant.

“Maybe I’ve changed. Look I’ve gotta go,” said Dylan.



- posted by Mahogany @ 4:43 PM

 
Chapter 7 Part 2
***

Dylan scoured over his pool table trying to line up his shot. Darn it if that Khrystine Morgan wasn’t ruining his pool game. Thoughts of her were ruining the angles that he normally saw when he went for any ball. He tried to make a bank shot, which didn’t go into the hole he’d predicted.

He cursed under his breath and stood resting the cue under his chin.

It served him right that the only woman he was not remotely interested in using, was not interested in him. Why did he have the nerve to think, when he’d been so careless with numerous hearts, that the one time his heart was truly captured, the object of his affections would not be careless with his own heart. Life was full of cruel ironies, and this was one.

She wasn’t nearly interested in him as he was interested in her. He comforted her, had cared deeply about her loss, tried to make her feel better, only to be brushed off at the end of their date.

For the first time he found himself feeling empathetic towards a woman, maybe she was scared because she’d love once and lost and it hurt her still to this day. And then too, if he was a woman, he would probably be wary of a person with a press rap like he had. There were the stories, stupid quotes that he said that he regretted.

Stuff like…

“No woman can leave her toothbrush where I stay,”

“My heart only belongs to Budweiser”.

If she was really a Flat fan, as she said she was, she’d heard the stories. Why she accused him of having a harem in the car. It wasn’t a harem, more like an ill timed indiscrete series of affairs, but they didn’t mean anything to him. This time, for the first time in his life, what he felt was real.

Sure he was attracted to Khrystine, but he wasn’t scheming and plotting like he did with other girls. His end objective was not how to notch a new conquest. Thoughts instead revolved around a genuine interest in her.

Before, he’d make excuses to have physical contact with women, and see how far he could push the boundaries. With Khrystine, he genuinely attempted not to offend her in anyway, and at times, his own desire for her caused guilt ridden feelings.

He felt like a beast when she cried in his arms, and he felt desire for her surge up in his loins. She was a human being that needed comfort and care and he was giving into his own selfish fantasies.

What was she doing to him? These were not concerns that he normally harbored. Wanting to have more than temporary gratification with a woman was not something that ever crossed his mind. It felt strange, wonderful and strange to be near her.

He hadn’t meant to get so angry at her, blow up at her because she didn’t want to play backyard baseball with him, but she’d hurt his feelings. He was so touched by her revelation of liking something trivial that defied his characterization of her. And he was so enamored with the prospect of spending even more time with her that he grew angry when it appeared that his feelings weren’t being reciprocated.

He couldn’t think about the pool game anymore, so he put down the cue. He picked up his cherry red acoustic guitar, sitting on the guitar stand beside his sofa. He sat down, put his feet up on the coffee table, plucking a simple melody.

It sounded to him like what he was feeling right now, a slow, bluesy pulsating number. It had strains of sexiness and equal measure of sorrow.

I can’t make her come to me no more….
So elusive she just slips right out my door.

I look her way for a chance…
She won’t give me a second chance…

Cupid is a cruel boss…
He laughs at my loss…

Played so many bluff hands with fate…
That the one I desire won’t give me a chance to clear the slate…


It was not at all like what he usually wrote. He didn’t usually write introspective songs about romance. His songs were all about what the hardworking American Male could relate to, the need to be heard, the need to party, the need to be respected as a man, the need for fast women, and fast cars.

Whatever this was, it was the single most beautiful thing he’d ever written, and it took ten minutes, and the image of an ever-illusive Khrystine soaking up the backdrop of his mind.

Perhaps he should call her, maybe tomorrow. Maybe he was moving things to fast. He didn’t even know what too fast was, because he’d never had a real relationship with a woman. All he ever knew sadly enough was groupies.

She was definitely atypical of anyone he’d ever imagined himself literally feeling compelled to know. Sophisticated, came from a cultured upbringing, and she was black. But he found himself unable to resist her charms, that beautiful smile, songbird giggle, and what appeared to be a fragile and delicate heart, for all her attestations otherwise.

He wished that he’d taken the time to discover a woman and her inner beauty well before he was twenty-three years old. Dylan felt shallow and ashamed. Maybe he was scaring Khrystine because his desire to get to know her was so intense.

***
Khrystine and Monique arrived at club Indigo. Khrystine was wearing an Indigo Blue mini dress, matching wrap and high-heeled shoes. Monique thought her choice of indigo clothing for the Indigo club was a riot, and touted that she was the only appropriately dressed person in the place. With it’s indigo blue and gold décor, dimly lit atmosphere, and breataking view of LA, Khrystine could clearly see why this was the “hangout to the stars”.

While she'd been excited about going when Mike called her, now she felt downhearted. Dylan was scaring her with his overly familiar affection toward her, but she still liked him. He made it clear though that she could not be indecisive. It had been so long since she thought about what she wanted in the love department, that she couldn't answer her inner longings anymore. What she'd wanted was Lance.

"What's wrong with you girl?" asked Monique.

Kristine was perched a bar stool, staring mindlessly into the strobe lights sipping her diet coke through a straw.

"Nothing, why's something gotta be wrong?" she asked arching her eyebrow.

"Well you've been moody since all day. They are playing music and you aren't even dancing. You love to dance," she added.

Khrystine knew the real reason she was sour was the failed afternoon with Dylan, but she didn't want Monique to know. Monique was overprotective of her feelings because she cared, and she knew that her friend would scold her for being friendly with notorious playboy Dylan. The way Monique loathed JaQuon, she knew that any mention of Dylan would give her a heart attack. She hadn't mentioned their subsequent meetings at the party, the phone calls, or today's date.

"I don't know. I thought I'd be into this tonight, but I'm not in it," said Khrystine softly.

"Well you gotta get into it honey. Mike's gonna be mad if he doesn't see you in the papers tomorrow because you are being a wallflower," she added rubbing and patting Khrystine's sholder.

"I know, I know, let me order another diet coke and then we'll get out there," said Khrystine.

"As pretty as you are outside, your insides are gonna be rotten. Khrystine, your veins run diet coke," laughed Monique.

"I know," said Khrystine, suddenly turning around.

Monique had whipped her head around and feeling a shadow looming over her shoulder, Khrystine did the same.

"Hello, Ms. Morgan," said the deep voiced male.

She'd recognize that voice anywhere.

It was Derek Thompson, dramatic actor extraordinaire, who'd made a big splash the previous year as one of the only African-American male actor nominees for the prestigious Academy Awards.

"Mr. Thompson, Derek Thompson," said Khrystine smiling.

He was even more gorgeous in person, smooth ebony skin, pearly white teeth, cocoa brown eyes, immaculately shaven goatee, his slender but well defined frame filling out his tastefully appointed black Armani suit.

"Yeah, its me. Mr. Secret Agent Investigator. Listen. Love your song, and your video. My the camera doesn't lie. You are even more gorgeous in person," said Derek.

"Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself, very nice in fact," said Khrystine.

"Would you care to dance," asked Derek.
Khrystine had seen Derek in most of his major motion pictures, and a few weeks ago, she would have been beside herself at his request, and given an emphatic yes. Right now, she felt depressed, not much like dancing with anyone. She should be dancing with Dylan Taylor, who seemed to be trying to reveal his heart to her. She shook her head as though trying to dump the thought from her head.

"No?" he asked.

"Maybe some other time. It's not you. I'm just not feeling so well right now," she added softly.

"Okay. You're shy maybe. Look here's my number, call when you feel better," he added extending a card to her.

When he was out of earshot, Monique turned to her.

"I know you have absolutely lost your mind for real now!" said Monique.

"why?' asked Khrystine.

"That was Derek. The Derek. I’m not usually star struck but that was Derek. He asked you to dance. Khrystine, we've thought he was gorgeous, oh since were were twelve, and you told him no? Why? He seems to be such a nice guy. You never hear anything about him in the tabloids, never hear a bad talk of him anywhere. That might have been a love connection," sighed Monique.

"You wanna dance with him instead? I'll call him back over here. I don't feel like dancing. I should have asked him if he'd like to dance with you," added Khrystine.

"No, you shouldn't have, he wanted to dance with you, and you should have let him. You've been talking about being a little lonely. There was a good chance for Mr. Right, you'll never know if you don't get out there,' added Monique.

"Yeah, I know, but I changed my mind about Mr. Right. I don't think I'm ready for that. I don't even know who he is right now. I had Mr. Right, he's gone now, and I don't wanna slow down my career in my pursuit of him," she said softly.

"This is about lance isn't it. You should have said something sooner. Do you wanna go home? I'll get Mike to take you home. I can spend the night if you need me too. Khrystine you've gotta get over him sometime, it's been five years. Sometime soon you've gotta take the leap from flirting with cute guys for fun, to recognizing genuinely expressed interest from a sincere man and returning it," added Monique.

“I know, I know. There’s a lot that I don’t wanna talk about right now though Monique. Let’s just mingle,” she added softly.

She was inching her way through the crowd, when she saw Derek commandeered in the corner with her manager Mike. Half wondering what the conversation was about she inched closer, but then Mike saw her, anxiously waving her over.

“Khrystine,” he called.

“Yeah,” said Khrystine.

“My good friend Derek says he asked you to dance and you declined, said you must be shy, and I said not Khrystine,” said Mike.

“Yeah he told on you,” teased Derek softly.

“She’s a lady though, so maybe she wanted to be properly introduced. I’ve known Derek for a long time, when he first came to town, before he was Mr. Secret Agent, he came to me for guidance and I helped him find a more appropriate manager in the world of acting. We have a long history,” added Mike.

“Well that’s nice to know. Michael is very talented at what he does with me, so I’m sure he would have handled your career nicely were he in your field,” said Khrystine.

“She’s charming,” said Derek softly.

“Oh clearly. She’s a total package, singer, dancer, she’s marketable, and she might one day costar in a movie with you,” laughed Michael.

“I surely wouldn’t mind that, if she’s anything like her MTV presence she’d do lovely,” said Derek to Mike.

Khrystine hated when men were talking and referred to her in the third person, as though she couldn’t be party to the conversation.


“Photo-op,” said Mike, ushering Khrystine and Derek together.

Khrystine was taken by surprise as the paparazzi appeared from out the woodwork, and Derek put his arm around her grinning. By now, Khrystine had been primed for impromptu shots for a while, so she stood next to him grinning.

After the press took their shots, Khrystine talked a little more with Derek so as not to appear rude, and then excused herself to find Monique in the crowd.


- posted by Mahogany @ 4:01 PM

 
Chapter 7 Part 1
Chapter 7

As he turned the corner out of her condominium complex, her eyes glazed over, looking at the spot where his classic 57 Chevy sat. Her chest felt tight and it ached in the spot above her ribcage, and she felt her throat grow taut, she wanted to cry.

Anytime she felt so near to tears, she knew she'd blown it. He thought she was playing games with him. Khrystine didn't look at her actions as playing games. She really did have interviews to do, and she really was concerned about the time that these would take. However, even when she agreed that she would go back to Dylan's place, that didn't solve the problems. She wasn't used to being told "no". Somehow things usually fell into place.

Her insides began to jostle and buck like the wild current of the winding sea. If she was paler, she would be green. She felt sick and the heat was beginning to burn the crown of her head. She needed to get inside.

She brushed absentmindedly past the doorman, mindlessly punched in the correct floor on the elevator, walked down the hallway and slid her key across the swipe.

Letting herself in, she plopped down onto her Italian leather sofa, letting herself sink heavily into the comfortable cushions. How did she feel about Dylan?

How had they ended on such a sour note. It seemed like there were so many delicate hedges when they discussed things. She'd probably over reacted when he called her a thorn. But he'd definitely over reacted when she told him she had things to do. It did seem to her that he'd thrown a totally spoiled fit because their date ended earlier than he'd expected.

Instead of getting easier to figure out Dylan, it was getting harder. At first she'd been embarrassed confiding in him about Lance, but when he'd comforted her, she'd felt a warm shiver run up and down her spine from the crown of her head to her bottom. It felt more "right" than anything she'd ever experienced, lying close to his heart, the proud thrumming of his heart, the spicy smell of Cinnamon tickling her nose through his shirt. She'd literally had to struggle with herself to remain within his embrace, because it culminated feelings she wasn't ready to experience. She felt safe with him, she felt protected.

She couldn't feel this way with a man she hardly knew. It was obvious she hardly knew him the way he'd reacted when she talked about other plans, his speed, the aggression, the anger that crossed his beautiful hazel eyes scared her. How could someone who'd cuddled her so tenderly turn nearly violently angry at the touch of a button. If he was that out of control of his feelings, what else was he capable of.

Yet the very same things that were frightening about him were the things that made the pit of her belly tingle fiercely. He had passion, fire, and he was not a man that could be manipulated. He seemed dashing. Maybe perhaps like a modern day knight. Axe the horse and insert electric guitar.

She was being girlish again. She wanted to call him, and apologize but resisted the urge. Dylan Taylor was a dangerous man. He stirred up feelings in her, she was nearly powerless to resist. The roughness of his fingertips, coupled by the delicate way with which he touched her shoulder when she turned away drove her mad. That was why she'd shouted at him about her need for air. There could be no air with Dylan Taylor around, he consumed her thoughts, and changed the way she normally reacted though she desperately tried to play it cool. She didn't have time to get involved with a charming rock star who may, or may not have good intentions.

The quickest way to insure the success of the Khyrstine Morgan empire was to focus her energies into her career. The LA times had just made a coveted quote about her recent success. They'd said "she could be the next Whitney Houston". Now was no time to rest on her laurels and ruin what could be the most important career moves she'd made yet. She had no time to get involved in a tabloid soap opera. She'd live up to Dylan's end of the ultimatum. She would not contact him, because at Twenty-One, with the most promising new r&b career to be launched this year, she didn't have any use or time for a man that she couldn't "turn on and off".



- posted by Mahogany @ 5:48 PM

 
Chapter 6 part 2
In a flash, many things were coming together about Khrystine. He understood why she was so outgoing one minute, and so reticent the next. The very act of loosing her boyfriend in death was such a painful wound to her that she protected her feelings around others without even realizing that was what she was doing. She was glamorous, beautiful, confident sure, but she also had a deep tender spot in her heart that ached, and it spurned on his attraction even more. To hurt was human, and it made Khrystine more human that ever before in his eyes. Still he never wanted her to suffer so. He wished he could erase her grief with the stroke of his hand, and abolish memories she found so painful. However she seemed reluctant to talk about it, eager to change the subject.

“That pizza was really good,” she said softly.

“Yeah, Sals is the best,” he said.

“Beer?” he asked, pouring her beer in the paper cup she’d asked for.

“Thanks. I love Corona’s,” she added sipping gingerly.

It cracked him up how lady like she sipped her beer, he wanted to laugh, but he didn’t want her to mistake his laughter for making fun of her. She just had cute ways that made him want to chuckle.

“Corona’s eh? Well, I’m a Budweiser man myself. That’s all I drink, that’s all that tastes good to my pallet, andheiser bush,” he said chuckling.

“Dylan, I’m surprised to hear you say that. If you really like beers, there are all kinds that are good. Mexican beers, Chinese beers, of course none so good as an Australian beer to me,” added Khrystine.

“So you really drink beer huh? I thought you just liked it to go with your pizza or something, I mean I know you said in the pizzeria that you liked beer but, it doesn’t fit in with you, and your image,” added Dylan.

“What image?” chuckled Khyrstine.

“I don’t know…sophisticated. I didn’t know classy women dug beer, but since you do now I know that’s true,” added Dylan.

“Dylan, you’ve gotta stop categorizing people so. Maybe I am classy, I don’t know, I never thought about whether I was or not, people say that I am…but I love a good brew! I love something good to drink period. That’s probably my worse trait,” chuckled Khrystine.

“You too? It’s the business, I swear it, they drive us to drink,” he said falling prey to chuckles.

She chuckled too.

“Yeah I like all sorts of stuff, mixed drinks, wine, beer, it’s not only for sweaty guys watching the football game,” chuckled Khrystine.

“Hey I’m one of those sweaty guys that likes to watch football,” laughed Dylan.

“Hey I don’t know much about football, but you know, I like to play that BackYard BaseBall videogame,” laughed Khyrstine.

Then she clammed up.

“Khrystine, it’s okay, to be yourself. Nothing wrong with liking BackYard BaseBall. A lot of people like videogames. I happen to have a copy of that game at home. If you’re really good, maybe you can play the master,” he said pointing at his chest.

“Ha, yeah right. I shouldn’t have admitted to playing that silly game,” she said softly.

“No yeah you should have. I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but you aren’t loosing sophistication points with me. I mean it’s nice that you are glamorous, but even nicer that I know that along with the time you spend in the mirror you like videogames, and beer. That’s stuff that we have in common. It’s cool. I’m not gonna go run and tell the tabloids,” he added softly.

“Well I mean, I just don’t wanna be childish. People already treat me that way because even though I’m an adult, I’m still young. Most of the guys on my staff have kids my age,” she sighed.

“Yeah, but that’s the point, they are on your staff. But you are the woman running the show. You are only Twenty-one. It’s okay to like games, its okay to like beer. Be yourself. I like who I’m learning about,” he added softly.

He could see her shoulders square as though she was literally gaining confidence. She leaned on the side of his car, one hand on her hip as she recounted…


“I play dirty on that game. There are no fouls, there is no walking, and I play just like I was playing baseball in the backyard, I’ll pull your shirt if you get in my way and everything,” she laughed.

“That’s what Backyard baseball is all about. Heck I’d cork my bat if I could. The dirty advantage. That’s how dudes really play ball. Listen, this was fun and everything, but I’m not ready for it to be over. Why don’t you come back, see my apartment, and we can play that game. I wanna see how good you are,” added Dylan excitedly.

He couldn’t hide his delight, he was grinning ear-to-ear and beaming. Who knew the beautiful and sophisticated Khrystine Morgan liked beer and videogames. He’d stereotyped her, and she had probably thought of him the same way.

“Dylan, I don’t know, it’s getting later, and I have some interviews to do tomorrow and…”

Everytime he tried to get closer to her, she backed away. And given the excitement he’d just felt over her revelation, it was beginning to frustrate him.

“Khrystine, if you don’t wanna hang out with me anymore today, just say so. Get in the car and I’ll take you home,” He added walking around to the passenger’s side and opening the door for her.

She sat in her seat, he sat in the driver seat, put the car in motion and sped down the hill toward the direction of the city.

“Dylan you don’t’ have to get so mad, I mean I have other commitments,”

“Other commitments? Khrystine, you frustrate me. I can admit it to you. I understand you’ve been hurt in the past. I understand that life right now has got you feeling like you don’t wanna trust people. But I wouldn’t hurt you Khrystine. I just wanna get to know you, play a little videogame, show you my home and the things that are important to me. I never invite people into my home, but the band, and my male friends,” he added softly.

“Well Dylan that’s really sweet but, I really do have interviews to do tomorrow and I…”

“Khrystine, I think you are making excuses. I do interviews, you only have to be halfway alert enough to answer their questions. And if they are phone interviews, please. What are you afraid of? Are you afraid you actually might enjoy yourself, and have a good time,” added Dylan hotly glancing at her.

“Dylan, woah, why are you coming at me so strong. It’s like you are yelling at me and inviting me to come over at the same time. You are being unreasonably aggressive right now, and it makes me uncomfortable and you are speeding,” she added glancing at the speedometer.

He let up off the acceleration.

“I speed when I’m angry. I’m sorry. I’ll slow down. I’m also sorry I made you uncomfortable. But you’ve gotta know how frustrated you make me. Every time I try to get to know you a little better, you give a little and then you back away. Am I creepy to you or something, is that it?” he added ducking down the main boulevard.

“No you aren’t creepy, but you are acting like a spoiled brat because I don’t want to play with your toys, and that is creepy. I had a great time today, but I’m ready to go home. You can’t just plan an itinerary and expect everyone can just go along with you at the drop of a hat,” spat Khrystine.

“I’m not being a spoiled brat. This is craziness. Fighting over an invitation to spend more time together. I’ve never met anyone quite as difficult as you. You are a rose, but I keep getting stuck by the thorns around the base,” he sighed.

“Thorns, thorny? Dylan, I’m not like anyone else you might have in your harem, you can’t just expect that you’ll say jump and I’ll say how high,” scoffed Khrystine.

“Harem? Harem? That’s how you feel about me. Oh so I see why you don’t wanna come to my place. You think I want you as part of a Harem? You really think that after I comforted you on the rock, showed you my secret view of the city, and my top secret Chevy restoration pictures. You think that I was just selling you a line, and all those things aren’t really important to me. Sounds crazy but in a few days I was starting to feel real close to you, especially after you revealed about your boyfriend. But I see the feeling isn’t mutual. You think I’m just a hardheaded rebel playboy like they show in the press,” he sighed.

“Dylan, that wasn’t what I meant, I was angry because you said I was thorny. You think I’m a difficult to deal with spoiled, snobby diva. I can tell. You thought I didn’t drink beer, you acted surprised that I had emotional feelings beyond my hair and nails, so, my press has preceded your dealings with me as a person too,” snapped Khrystine.

“Yeah, and that’s another thing, you’re so defensive, always ready with a quick witted comeback, always ready to twist the javelin deeper in my side. I don’t think you want anyone to be close to you. And that’s a shame. I see things about you that are lovely even amongst the things that frustrate me. But I’m not a faucet. I’ll not be turned on and off. When you’re ready to deal with a person that you can’t turn on and off like your cosmetics mirror, come find me. I’m not real sophisticated, not exceptionally articulate, or bright, but if I really care about something, I care about it deeply. But hey, the press doesn’t see that, and anyway, they need to sell their papers. Where do you live, I’ll take you home,” added Dylan.

“I’m not always ready with a quick witted comeback. I think you don’t like me because you can’t control me,” she said hotly.

“Control you? Control you? I don’t wanna control you, I just want to get to know you better. I was offering to share things with you that I only care with my closest buds. I wanted to be a friend to you and know you, but I’m sorry if it got mistaken for being controlling,” he said softly.

Dylan, I’m sorry, you don’t have to take me right home, listen, we can go back to your place and play with the game and…”

“No Khrystine. I don’t want to be the recipient of pity time. When you spend time with me, I want it to be because you really wanna be with me, not cuz you feel sorry because of an argument we’ve had, or you feel badly about your actions,” he said.

“But Dylan, I had no right to react the way that I did. I really did have plans, but I shouldn’t have blown up at you earlier and said what I had about the harem, I wish I hadn’t declined now. I wanna take it all back,” she added glancing at him.

The sincerity in her eyes pained him. But he had to put his foot down. There could be no more of this close one minute, backing off the next, it hurt him too much. He had to let her know how much this displeased him. Still the tender side of him wanted to hug her and say….all is forgiven, and he wondered where that came from, he didn’t know how tender his feelings could be before he’d met Khrystine.

“I shouldn’t have called you a thorn either. I wish I could take it back. But you heard me, and once someone hears something sometimes its too late to take it back, you can just work though it. Listen, it’s best for me to take you home. You said yourself you had interviews to do, and I don’t wanna feel like you are with me only because you feel guilty about something. I want you to be with me because you want to be there…” he said softly.

“But Dylan I’ve changed my mind and I wanna go back to your place now,” she added insistently.

“Some other time maybe. I’ll take you home. I had a nice time today. Now where is it that you live again?” asked Dylan.

“I live on Monroe Boulevard,” said Khrystine softly.

He couldn’t even look at her as he made the turns down the boulevards to the one he directed. Her whole expression was pained and hurt. He did not want to hurt her, but it was too painful for his heart to deal with her hot and cold emotions. He had to show her that he needed her to deal with him consistently, even as the thought of bidding her goodbye, when he’d planned to spend the whole rest of the day with her pained him. He’d miss those beautiful dark eyes, her heavenly smile, the adorable chuckle. But it was ever more painful to think of these things appearing and disappearing flickering into a realm beyond his control.

He drove to her condo in silence, and when she finally pointed out the section for him to pull in front of he mentioned…

“I had a great time today. I’m sorry it ended on such a sour note. But whenever you are ready to deal with someone you can’t turn on and off, you know where to find me,” he added softly, his voice was growing husky and he felt a trickle in his throat.

It may well be the last time he’d see her, but he couldn’t deal with her shutting him on and off again. He was starting to care deeply for Khrystine, the beautiful r&b princess and the vulnerable person hidden behind all those layers.

“Take care,” he murmured hugging her chastely around the neck.

Her eyes were clearly watery and she said…

“I’ll call you,”

“Only if you wanna deal with someone you can’t shut on and off. Mama I can’t deal with this on off stuff, and I really don’t wanna play games. Heck you know from the press that there are plenty of women to play games with. My heart was coming from a place that was real…and since it’s real, I can’t do the on, off stuff. And if you aren’t ready for that, then I’ll see you around, they’ll be functions and stuff. I wish you all the best Ms. Morgan, I know you’re going straight to the top in that life of yours,” he said, valiantly putting on a smile even though he felt nearer to tears than he had since he was a young man.

“I mean don’t make it sound like we are saying goodbye forever,” said Khrystine stepping out of the car.

“We don’t have to be. I thought it was clear. But you of all people should know that I don’t wanna feel like a toy,” he added softly.

“You aren’t a toy to me. Dylan, I’m sorry. I had a nice time too,” she said.

“So did I. See ya around,” he added speeding off in his Chevy.


- posted by Mahogany @ 2:35 PM

 
Chapter 6
The little overhang that allowed them to see over the busy Los Angeles streets and a piece of the Pacific Ocean was breathtaking to Khrystine. The cars appeared as little metal thumbtacks, the roads as little gray pieces of ribbons, edged in peach, capped off by the most beautiful teal blue she’d ever seen.

She’d been in this grand city nearly a year and she’d never seen a view of it like this. Dylan was right. She needed to take time to smell the roses.

“Dylan, this is truly breath taking. I love the view. I could stare at this for hours,” she said looking below.

“I can, and do. I come here when I want to think. And I’ve never bothered sharing it with anyone else. You look like the type to appreciate a great view,” said Dylan.

“Oh I do I always have. I spent many, many hours looking out the picture window in the living room when I was growing up. We had a lakeshore view. Really beautiful,” added Khrystine.

“What really? I grew up on the water too. Well my backyard was on the water anyway. I was a New Jersey boy, and grew up in a neighborhood that had been a fishing community in days gone by. By the time my parents landed there, it had been transformed into a lower middle class neighborhood. No fancy lakeshore view like yours, but I always loved to look at the water,” added Dylan.

“Well I wouldn’t say it was fancy, it was just a lovely view,” added Khrystine.

“You don’t have to be extra modest around me Khrystine. I mean, you look like you grew up in money, to me you did, and it’s really not a big deal that you grew up rich and I grew up poor unless you make it one,” he added thoughtfully softly.

“It’s not a big deal to me Dylan. You deal within the cards you are dealt with, and I’d say you’ve done well. You’re far from poor now. You have wealth beyond your wildest dreams, up and beyond probably anything I’ll ever achieve,” added Khrystine.


“Yeah, maybe but aside from the bike, the car, and a few very expensive guitars I’m just a poor Jersey boy. I don’t really seek to adore myself with wealth. But I’m cool with that, as long as you are. When I was really young I wanted to come from the other side of the tracks like you did, drive a big hog sports car to school and stuff. I got older and I realized that all those people in the other neighborhoods, they don’t have stuff figured out either,” he added softly.

“Well we did. We had stuff figured out. Above and beyond anything, my family, we love eachother. And family comes first. I’d do anything in the world for my mommy, and daddy and my sisters and brothers,” added Khyrstine.

“I believe it. You look like they mean the world to you just speaking about them,” he added moving closer to her.

She was glad, she wanted to seal the distance between the two of them. There needed to be something else to care the world about outside of her family, and she noticed how empty her previous statement seemed as she felt a chill come over the cliff at the same time.

“What means the world to you Dylan,” asked Khyrstine, cocking her head to the side.

“To me? I never really thought about it. I think about a lot of things. A really sweet sounding guitar solo. Moments of solitude. A true friend. That means the world,” added Dylan.

“What about your family? They don’t mean the world to you,” asked Khyrstine.

“Well they mean a lot to me, as most people’s families do, but I can’t live my life through them. I love them to death, they are important to me. I visit my Jersey home often, but all our ideals don’t match up. I don’t believe and think the same way as my parents do. Khrystine you make me think. I haven’t thought this much about what means something to me in years,” chuckled Dylan.

“It’s good to think. You don’t get along with your parents? I mean we all have our big fights, and stuff, I had the fight when I left college to pursue music. I had the fights when I went into rough neighborhoods to sing, but through it all we really love each other, and have a healthy relationship. I mean I know this is a weird conversation Dylan, but I always wonder about people who don’t get along with their families,” she added softly.

“We get along Khrystine, it’s just rather complicated. And you really wouldn’t understand, trust me,” added Dylan.


“How do you know I wouldn’t understand,” inquired Khrystine.

“Well we had the usual arguments when I was growing up, about me putting my energies into something besides playing the guitar. About cutting my hair, and about finding something practical to do with my life, about picking the same value system as they have. Now I don’t know your family but they seem different than mine. They seem like even though they don’t agree with your choices, they respect your choices and let you figure out stuff on your own,” added Dylan.

“I don’t know if it’s that as much as I’ve never really gone against the grain of the life they want me to lead. I know that’s sad and I’m twenty-one, but I really haven’t…outside of music. And if it doesn’t work out, we all know what I’ll do. Go get two degrees and go right out and marry a doctor, or a lawyer, or an insurance agent or a real estate developer. That’s why this has to work out for me,” chuckled Khrystine gesturing around herself.

She only then stopped to notice how boring her life would be already if her music career had not become successful.

“Hmm, well see that’s where you and I differ. After a while I stopped wanting to cut my hair. And playing the guitar, I didn’t want to stop throwing my life into that…heck I’m as good with a guitar as I am with my hands, and as far as basing what I think about life, and who will be going to the hereafter on what someone else thinks, I can’t do that,” chuckled Dylan.


“So what else is important to you besides family and God. And what’s this, every time I’ve seen you you’ve been wearing it, and it intrigues me,” he added reaching for the locket around her neck.

***


When he tried to reach for it, he knew it was a mistake. She clutched it back to her breast, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder.

“Don’t touch it. It’s a gift, and I don’t want anything to happen to it. Someone gave it to me long ago,” she said defensively.

Her eyes narrowed and they looked watery. He didn’t want to pursue the statement and upset her, and yet he felt compelled to comfort her.

“Well whoever gave it to you, they must be a pretty special person to you, because you wear it all the time. It’s really beautiful,” he added gently.

She seemed to be a slightly defensive person, but rather than incite this self-protective mechanism, he decided to react in a gentle manner.

“Well thank you. Listen Dylan. I’m sorry I just snapped at you, but this is hard for me. I mean, I don’t even know why I’m showing you this, I don’t know you but look,” she said whipping it open for him to see.

In the silver casing, between to halves of a heart were two photographs, one of a good looking fair-skinned black boy, wearing what appeared to be a football uniform, the other of Khrystine and the same young man, wearing what looked like to be prom clothes.

“Ah, so that’s your boyfriend…it must be really hard being on the road and away from him,” added Dylan softly. He gently patted her shoulder.

Now he understood her defensiveness and he reluctance to be more than friends. She had romantic ties still linked to her heart back at home. Then he felt a rush of guilt because her soft, smooth ebony skin felt so good under his fingertips. He’d never felt anything as soft as her shoulder, no telling what the rest of her skin felt like.

“He was my boyfriend. He passed away. Three days before graduation, I…”her words dissolved into tears.

She turned her back to him. He supposed she didn’t want him to see her cry. With a start she got up and started walking in the direction of the car.

“Wait,” he added gently grabbing her shoulders.

He rubbed them softly from behind. He wanted to comfort her, and he felt guilty as his arousal was creeping to the surface even in the midst of her painful revelation. He felt like a predator. He shouldn’t be longing for her, but supporting her, what was wrong with him? Obviously she was still rather bothered by his death because it only took his grabbing of her locket to bring it to the surface. Then his heart ached, her heart was still sore for him after five years. He didn’t know what to say or to do, but he did want to help her feel better.

“Let me go, I need to get some air,” she half muttered.

“No, you don’t…you need to let yourself grieve, Khrystine,” said Dylan.

“What do you know about grief? You can’t know about grief. The kind of grief that I feel, five years Dylan, its been that long and I still hurt for him. I still cry and pray that I’ll wake up this morning, and it’ll have been a bad dream. Lance and I were going to get married you know? I mean, he gave me a ring, I had to wear it on a chain, my father wouldn’t let me wear it on my finger. He said we were too young to get married, but we could get engaged later and we’d have the biggest wedding this side of California,” said Khrystine.

“Yeah, you are right, I don’t know what any of that is like. I have no idea what it’s like to be in your shoes, in love with someone who gets tragically killed. It sounds very painful. But if you keep running from that pain, and you can’t even talk about it to people who care, it’ll never heal. Let me care Khrys,” he said turning her around to face him.

“It’s all gonna be okay…” he murmured pulling her into his chest.

Her shoulders shook and he caressed her gently. It was hard, even though she cried not to want to reach down and kiss her, but that was the selfish part of him, the part of him with an even more aching attraction to her now that she’d shown that she wasn’t larger than life after all. She was a normal woman with her own set of strengths and vulnerabilities. And she loved deeply, still crying for a love five years lost.

His t-shirt was wet with her tears, and he felt her nails piercing his shoulders through his leather jacket, flushed with the awareness that she was hugging him, and struck with grief about the circumstances of the hugging.

“I’m sorry, I need to get it together. I can’t be so darn sensitive all the time. I wear it to remind myself of him. It’s not always this bad, but last night, I thought of him, so today it hurts I guess,” she added with a soft sniffle, trying to release herself from his grip.

“No, you need someone to hold you now. Have you ever had a good cry about this, a really decent cry?” added Dylan.

“Yeah, by myself,” added Khrystine.

“No, you need to share you grief with someone, well no wonder its been bothering you so deeply,” he added softly.

“You can’t just run up to people and say, what’s up I miss my dead boyfriend, they’ll think you are a weirdo,” she said half chuckling at her own joke.

“I wasn’t suggesting that, but does he have family? Do you talk to them about how much you miss him? Did you tell your parents, that family you love so much,” added Dylan.

“Well yeah I guess we’ve talked about it, but not a lot of tears. We’re so, dignified, when it comes to that kind of stuff. And I don’t wanna make his mom and his sister sad. We talk about the happy times. But, I don’t know. Dylan this is a weird conversation to be having,” she said finally extracting herself from his arms.

“Maybe it is. But you are still hurting, I can see it in your face. No one really close to me has ever died. I can imagine if someone close, a lover had died, it would be pain too great to imagine. I’ll tell you one thing, he was lucky to have known you when he did. And I don’t know what I think about the hereafter, but he was probably very proud you were his girl. He would also probably be very happy that you still loved him so much,” added Dylan.

“Well I feel crazy for hurting so still, and I feel like I’ve said too much I’m embarrassed,” she said hiding her face behind her hands.

He saw her do this more than once now, and it was a trait he found cute. Even all tears she was still very beautiful, her hair disheveled, and lips fuller than usual.

“Don’t feel crazy Khrystine. I mean, you’re practically a widow, I don’t know what it’s called when a girl’s boyfriend dies. That doesn’t happen often, and it has to be touching. Just remember there are people here now, that care about you, and want to see you happy,” he added softly.

“Dylan, thank you,” said Khrystine with a soft smile through her tears.

“No thank you. Thanks for coming to that show. Thanks for showing up at the party, and thanks for being here now. It’s great to get to know you,” added Dylan.

“It’s great to get to know you too,” said Khrystine.

He cleaned up the trash, took her hand and escorted her back to the car.

- posted by Mahogany @ 10:14 AM