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The security guard came in and grabbed Madeline by the shoulders. She kept shrugging his hands off and swearing at him. She looked like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. Steph turned away like she was going to follow them out. I grabbed her arm and forced her to turn around. I found the idea that she thought I’d even fucking look at another woman insulting. I’d loved her and only her for as long as I could remember. There was no one in this world who could even hold a candle to her. She was it for me.
“You’re not going anywhere, Steph.” I said the words firmly. She needed to know how serious I was. I knew I sounded like a controlling asshole, but when it came to Stephanie, I was irrational. She was mine and I was hers. We both knew it, and there was no fucking way around the facts.
“Luca, things change. You’re a big-time rock star now. This is your life. Women throw themselves at you. It’s not going to be just Madeline. There will be hundreds more. Last week at a coffee shop, I overheard two girls talking about all the obscene sexual acts they wanted to do with you. Things that made me blush in embarrassment. I had to sit through that.” She pointed at her chest emphatically. “I don’t want to live my life like that.” Her head fell down and her shoulders slumped too. I didn’t say anything. I just pulled her out the room after grabbing my guitar.
“Sit,” I demanded. She sat down like a good girl, her eyes still cast down. I began to strum the guitar and hum the opening cords. When I sang to Steph, we connected on that profound level we’d known since we were kids. It neutralized her anger, and she fell into my arms. I sang from my heart about how she was the only one. My always and forever. The music gave me stardom, but Stephanie held the key to my heart.
Stephanie
The lyrics of the Rolling Stone’s “She’s Like a Rainbow” washed over me. The words were a balm for the wounds in my heart. I knew there was nothing going on between Madeline and Luca. If he’d wanted to, Luca could have had her before he became famous. I’d seen an excuse to run, and I’d wanted to use it. It was the fear of losing him that had made me act so desperately. I’d believed that if Luca went away, made records, and became famous, he’d lose interest and would just forget about me, but that didn’t happen. The distance had only made Luca more devoted, if anything. He called every day, wrote emails, sent texts—we even FaceTimed every opportunity we got. Luca wanted to make sure I knew he wasn’t going anywhere, that even with the distance between us, he was committed to me. It just made me love him more. Then I would see photos in magazines where he was being chased by mobs of women, articles about how girls would throw their panties at him, ask him to sign their boobs—something that Luca always assured me and the press that he won’t do—but it was hard to handle: the adoration, the fan worship, the unbridled lust. As he strummed the last lines, I could feel the wetness on my cheeks. I had just let it all go, the fear, the anxiety; I had to trust Luca completely. I jumped up and into his arms. The guitar went crashing to the floor.
“Sorry,” I stammered into his kiss.
Luca ignored me and just pressed his lips to mine. His kiss was vengeful, not at all what I was expecting. His tongue brutally forced its way into my mouth, tangling with mine. He tugged at my lower lip with his teeth, pulling it gently.
“How could you think I’d even want to look at another woman? You make me so fucking crazy,” he spat. Then he kissed me again, pushing me down onto the couch. He kissed me along the side of my neck while his hands roamed my body, gliding under my shirt until he reached my breasts. Luca yanked down my bra, pinching my nipples. An unwelcome knock sounded at the door.
“Fifteen minutes until showtime, Luca,” boomed a voice on the other side.
Luca grumbled and then cursed under his breath as he stood up and straightened his pants.
“We’ll continue this after the show,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You can watch from the side stage. I had them to set up a spot for you.”
He offered me his hand and pulled me up. We walked out together. Just before we hit the door, Luca turned around, grabbed his acoustic guitar from the floor, and put it back in its rightful place.
8
Stephanie
Watching Luca on stage was something to behold. He knew exactly what to do—the man was born to entertain. The way he played to the crowd was phenomenal. He got them all dancing, shouting, and even crying. His charisma and passion were electrifying. Watching Luca perform made me realize he was a bona fide rock god in the making. I knew that night that I was watching a legend being made. He had the soul of Cobain, the drive of Hendrix, and the sexual energy of Morrison. Luca was in his prime, and he was only going to get bigger and better.
