Sheet Music - A Rock 'n' Roll Love Story
- Автор: Lister Ann
- Серия: Sheet Music #1
- Год: 2011
- Язык: голландский
- Год: Lulu.com
- ISBN: 9781105173578
- Жанр: Прочая древняя литература
Электронная книга - «Sheet Music - A Rock 'n' Roll Love Story». Краткое содержание книги:
Michael explained the situation and Arnold promised to take care of it.
Michael sighed with relief. It was out of his hands now. He only hoped it wasn’t too late. Without saying good-bye, Michael exited the FleetCenter by the back door and into the celebrity parking lot. A few seconds later, his black Porsche roared past the front entrance where fans still waited in hopes of catching a glimpse of Thrust. On another night, Michael might have slowed down and given the crowd a wave before speeding through the narrow streets of Boston. But not on this night. He wasn’t in the mood to acknowledge the fans.
His first thought was to head to Annie’s apartment. Then he shook that notion from his tired mind, down-shifted his car, and sped toward his own house.
He hated himself for yelling at her. If she never spoke to him again, he knew he deserved it. Besides, any chance he may have had with her would be gone, once she saw herself splayed on the front pages of every music rag published. Maybe it was best to leave her as an unfinished chapter in his life. After all, he had no business dragging her into the complexities of his existence. She certainly deserved better.
Having regrets was not in his nature but, where Annie was concerned, there were too many to count. He cursed himself loudly and shifted his car again with force, accelerating onto the expressway ramp and heading south. It should have been so simple, telling her how he felt, just three simple words. But somehow saying it out loud made it real and he didn’t know how to deal with that. How quickly and unexpectedly she had crashed into his life and into his heart and he knew he’d never be the same.
Michael sped the car up the long driveway that led to his house and parked beside the front door. He turned the key to his Italian-villa-style mansion and stepped into the foyer.
He hated coming home to an empty house. All the material possessions money could buy, and still he came home alone. The clomp of his boots echoed on the marble tile that led from the entrance back toward the kitchen. He tossed his keys and coat onto the granite countertop and headed for the second floor stairs. At the top of the circular staircase and to the left was the master bedroom suite.
After his divorce, Michael hired a professional decorator to re-do most of the house, especially his bedroom. The main objective was to remove any hint of his ex-wife’s feminine touches. The house was his now and he wanted his personality to be reflected as such. Much of the artwork he purchased while on tour in Europe. He hand selected black, white and gray marble and granite from Italian quarries. Austrian crystal chandeliers were shipped directly from the artisans who crafted them. The marble statues came from Venice. Bathroom and kitchen hardware fixtures consisted of 24 carat gold, chrome, and solid brass. The color schemes were rich and masculine with gold leaf to lighten the deep contrasts. The end result cost millions and took over a year to complete.
The master bedroom was massive in size, big enough to comfortably sleep two entire families. The king-sized bed was situated against a wall that faced an expanse of windows that overlooked the acres that surrounded the house and gardens. The view was breathtaking. Too bad he was hardly ever home to enjoy it.
The remainder of the second floor consisted of several more bedrooms, one for each member of the band, in case any of them needed to stay the night. It was part of the brotherhood of the band that went back to their drug days. The last bedroom belonged to his son. It had remained untouched since the day he had moved with his mother to the West Coast.
The downstairs was made up of several interlocking rooms. An enormous sunk-in living room was located off the foyer, an eat-in kitchen which was connected to a formal dining room, and a family room that was home to all of Michael’s gold and platinum records and awards of every size, shape and category. In the back of the house, was a state-of-the-art music room and recording studio. This is where he spent most of his time when he was at home.
The music room was constructed using the latest technology in materials and was acoustically perfect. A separate room stored dozens of guitars of every size, color, sound and vintage. There were also stacks of amplifiers, microphones, cords, audio processing boards, and other equipment neatly set up all over the room. Other instruments also had their place in this room too, such as; a piano, drum kit, and other percussion instruments.
Outside the music room was an in-ground pool, perfectly landscaped grounds around it with extremely tall hedges, making it totally private. On the opposite side of the pool was a guest suite where his groundskeeper and housekeeper lived.
Michael entered his bedroom and began removing his clothes, leaving them in a neat pile on the floor. Then he made his way to the shower. Once again, thoughts of Annie crept into his exhausted brain. He wouldn’t be seeing her again until they cut that demo tape together at Brian’s sound studio on Monday night. If it was the last thing she ever heard him say, he fully intended to apologize for his behavior. He also planned on telling her exactly how much he felt for her. No matter how uncomfortable it made him, it needed to be said.
It was almost noon the next day when Michael was roused from sleep by the sound of his ringing cell phone.
“Yeah,” Michael’s sleepy voice yawned into the phone.
“Get your sorry ass over here and you better bring your check book,” Brian demanded, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Fifteen minutes later, Michael walked into Brian’s kitchen with a sense of dread. Brian was sitting on a kitchen countertop leafing through a pile of 8 x 10 glossy photographs. The grin on his face told the entire sordid story.
“Mr. Wade, you horny old dog,” Brian scolded.
Michael yanked the enlarged photograph out of Brian’s hand.
“My, my! Judging by the way you fill out the front of those leather pants, I can see why the girls are always chasing after you!”
“Give me the pictures,” Michael asked.
“Wow, if the photographer had gotten another foot into the room I’d be looking at cooch right now,” Brian snickered.
“Give me the fucking pictures,” Michael demanded.
“Not so fast,” Brian taunted. “I’m not done with them yet.”
“You are now,” Michael replied, grabbing the rest of the pile. Then he quickly scanned through them. Each one was somehow more revealing then the last. He dropped himself onto a wooden stool in disgust. “Is this all of them?”
“Far as I know,” Brian answered. “They came in the envelope that Arnie brought to my house this morning.”
“He could have called me. I would have driven to his house to pick them up. He didn’t need to leave them here.”
“Don’t know what to tell you. I live closer to him,” Brian shrugged.
“How much?” Michael asked.
“Two hundred grand,” Brian replied with a chuckle. “That's got to be the most expensive piece of ass you ever had,” Brian nearly choked in laughter.
“Go to hell.”
“Oh, and there’s more good news,” Brian added.
“What do you mean?”
“Rumor has it, the promoters are preparing to pull the plug on your band.”
“Are you serious?”
“Afraid so, Mike. Can’t say I’m surprised and it’s not like I didn’t warn you. What did you expect? I just hope this mess doesn’t blow the deal for the other bands.”
Michael shook his head and released a heavy sigh. “I’m not surprised either, but I didn’t think it would happen this fast. What am I going to tell her?”
“Nothing. Let the promoters handle it and don’t see her again. Simple as that. Frankly, you’d be doing the girl a favor if you left her alone.”