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Affair with the Rockstar The day passed quickly
The day passed quickly. After we cleaned the dishes, Ryan took me out to the barn to see the horses. I am not a horse chick, just so you know. Never even wanted a pony growing up. But I enjoyed watching Ryan with them. He was so familiar and relaxed, feeding them each a carrot as a treat. He offered to let me try it, but I was too afraid of those giant chompers taking off a couple knuckles.“Maybe we can take them out riding later,” he said as he rubbed the mane of Bessie, a sweet little chestnut mare.“Um…”“You’ve never ridden before?”“No.”“I’ll teach you. There’s nothing to it. Bessie’s gentle, it’ll be easy.”“…if you say so…”Then we left the barn and walked over to one of the other wooden structures, which turned to be a garage, just like I thought. Ryan unlocked the door on a gigantic blue Ford F-150 truck and helped me up into the oversized cab.“What the hell?” I exclaimed.“What?”“This is big enough to fit a small village in!”“I’m the local rock star,” he joked. “It’s my
Affair with the Rockstar my days and nights passed
My days and nights passed like that – reading and relaxation during the day, and wine and song at night. We dined with the MacCruders at least twice a week, but the rest of the time, Ryan cooked for us. He was really good at it, fixing everything from elaborate French dishes to a scrumptious spaghetti sauce from scratch.On the fifth day he finally convinced me to take the horses for a ride. As I stood out in the barn and watched him expertly saddle up Albert and Bessie, I was struck by something about him: his casual, non-showy masculinity. He had the whole rock star thing on tour; he had the ‘genius musician’ part in the studio and during our sessions on the front porch. But out here he was a man’s man, doing things like saddling horses and getting ready to ride into the Black Hills. Maybe somebody who’s been around horses all their life wouldn’t have been impressed, but for a chick who grew up in the suburbs of Savannah and now lived in the urban jungle of New York City, it was kin
Affair with the Rockstar i paced back and forth
I paced back and forth in the main room for almost twenty minutes, biting my thumbnail, trying to figure out what I was going to say.In the end, I just decided to keep it simple.I’m okay, I texted back. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I just don’t want to talk right now.I pressed ‘Send.’ Within sixty seconds, the barrage started.Kaitlyn, PLEASE, you HAVE to talk to me!Where are you?!Just talk to me!Why are you doing this to me?!This is the first time you’ve texted or talked to me in two weeks, and that’s all you have to say?! That you ‘don’t want to talk right now’?! You disappear on me, and that’s it?! You get total fucking say-so on what happens?!Of course, I’m cleaning up the spelling and grammar. I think he was pretty sloshed when he sent most of the texts, which rendered a good deal of them nearly unintelligible.Three hours, 157 text messages, and fifteen angry / desperate / heartbroken / drunken voicemails from Derek later, I sat down to dinner with Ryan. He had fixed chicken
Affair with the Rockstar two nights after we talked
Two nights after we talked to Riley, it was raining cats and dogs. In the two weeks I had been at the ranch, there had been occasional showers, but this was the worst I’d ever seen. This was a full-on storm like I was used to during summers in Savannah, Georgia.We were lounging inside the house after a wonderful dinner. The lights were low, with only a single lamp in the corner as illumination. We talked and listened to the rainfall. Ryan was playing soft chords at the piano, and I was on my third glass of wine. Despite my earlier heartbreak over Derek’s radio silence, the alcohol had numbed me, and Ryan’s presence had lifted my spirits. Life was pretty good, considering.“Are we going to be able to ride tomorrow?” I asked.“Depends. It’s going to be messy. We might want to give it a day to dry out some – ”Suddenly a pair of headlights flared up through the front windows of the house, casting a moving pattern of light across the wall.I looked over at Ryan, who was frowning. Apparen
Affair with the Rockstar Twenty minutes later
Twenty minutes later, I sat at the dining room table in dry clothes and wet hair, a cup of hot tea and brandy in my hands. Ryan sat across from me and recounted what had transpired in the final moments before Derek had left.There were a few more choice words between the two of them. ‘Traitor’ and ‘backstabber’ got tossed around a little bit more, no matter how many times Ryan insisted that nothing had happened.Ryan asked him how he found out I was here. Turns out Riley’s sister Megan had told him. Derek had called Riley’s cell phone that morning, but she didn’t answer. That was expected, since she was normally drunk off her ass (or tapping somebody else’s). She was legendary for going out of contact for weeks at a time when left to her own devices, which was the whole reason Miles wanted Megan’s phone number before Riley left Vegas.Derek got Megan’s number from Miles and called around 10AM. Megan answered and said Riley was sleeping.Could you wake her up? he’d asked. I can’t get
Affair with the Rockstar the drive to the jail
The drive to the jail was a long one. The truck sloshed through mud for what seemed forever until we got to a paved road. In the night sky above, the clouds covered all the stars and mostly obscured the moon.“What did he get arrested for?”“Bar fight in the casino,” Ryan said grimly. “Drunk and disorderly. Thank God he had enough sense not to assault the police officers who arrested him.”I sat there, feeling guilty, wondering if somehow I was to blame for all this.Ryan knew exactly what was going through my head. “Don’t. Don’t think this has anything to do with you. Normal, well-adjusted people don’t get drunk, stalk their ex-girlfriends, barge onto their friends’ properties screaming at the top of their lungs, get escorted off at rifle-point, and then go get even more wasted and start a bar fight. He fucked up on his own. You had nothing to do with it.”“I had a little something to do with it.”“Yeah, he’ll tell you that – but remember, you’re his excuse, not the reason. The reaso
Affair with the Rockstar I cried halfway back to the ranch
I cried halfway back to the ranch. Over the horizon, the sun was coming up… but I felt like everything was darker and more depressing than when we first drove to the jail. In fact, it was the worst I’d felt since those first few days after Vegas.As he drove, Ryan opened up the center console between our seats and fished out a small package of tissues. I took them gratefully.“Thank you.”Ryan grimaced. “I’m sorry about back there. If I’d known that would happen, I would never have taken you.”I wondered: if I’d known Derek would act like that and say those things, would I have still gone?It was like an electric jolt when the answer hit me:No. I’m through with him being a dick to me.With that, I finally got a hold of myself. Derek had proven himself to be an absolute asshole; he didn’t deserve a single one of my tears.“Why is he like that?!” I wondered aloud, my nose stuffy, my voice thick from crying.Ryan thought about it for a second, then said, “I think he basically sees it a
Affair with the Rockstar If Derek had wanted to
If Derek had wanted to sabotage any chance of a romance with Ryan, he’d done a masterful job at it. I became obsessed with reading about him. Like a seven-year-old probing a sore tooth about to fall out, or a scabbed-over mosquito bite you just have to keep itching, I couldn’t stop myself. Every morning I got up and checked the website for whatever sleazy exploits he’d done the night before.I hated him for what he was doing. More than that, I hated myself for giving in and reading about it. I saw how pathetic and weak I was being, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop reading about it, couldn’t stop the anger, couldn’t stop the jealousy, couldn’t stop the anxiety and depression and self-loathing.Why couldn’t I get over him?It was like being addicted to some horrific drug, but one that doesn’t bring any pleasure, only pain. I guess I needed a hit to keep me connected to whatever emotions and experiences I’d had weeks ago when times were good. Except now it was just torture.Worst of
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