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Chapter 11
“Why don’t we have Mickey’s biography in here?” Lizzy asked absentmindedly.
“Mickey has a biography?” Rory laughed out loud.
“Yes. I checked online and we don’t have it in stock. What kind of bookstore are we?” Lizzy was miffed.
“The kind that does not stock garbage books,” Rory joked.
“That’s not funny. It is a shame that we do not stock the biography of the best singer the world has ever seen.”
“Best singer, Lizzy? Well, Frank Sinatra, Billy Joel, and Michael Jackson would like to chat. Not to mention Freddie Mercury.” Rory was cracking up now.
“Well Frank is dead but Mickey is not.” Lizzy was irritated, something she wasn’t very often.
“Lizzy—you don’t even read books.”
“Which makes it even more important, don’t you think? I need to know more about Mickey and I need to read this book.”
“Why? The man is shallow as a puddle. His biography is probably nothing but a story of sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll.”
“No, Rory, that is what you don’t understand. Mickey is a complex man who has never been loved and that is why he turns to all those… things. To fill the empty void within him. I read about this phenomenon in Cosmo once.”
“Okay, so now you’re a psychiatrist, Lizzy?”
“Don’t make fun of me, Rory, I’m serious. A talented, good-looking man like that needs true love in his life to turn it around.”
“And you think you are that true love?” Rory raised a brow.
“Why not? What’s wrong with me?” Lizzy asked angrily.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Rory smiled, warmly now. “But there are a lot of things wrong with that guy.”
“That is just a matter of personal perspective and on that, I do not agree with you at all. I have seen a side of him that maybe no one else has. He’s not what he seems.” The dazed smile was back on Lizzy’s face and Rory was sure that she had gone back to dreamland.
“Lizzy…” Rory was just going to start a lecture when the door of the shop rang open.
“Uncle Don!” Lizzy exclaimed and Rory wondered why she was calling Don “Uncle.”
“Mickey’s been telling you all the nicknames he has for me, eh?” Don asked Lizzy, who was blushing red with childish guilt. “But you are a sweet girl and it sounds much better coming from your pretty mouth than his,” Don laughed.
“Don. Nice to see you again. Looking for some books, are we?” Rory smiled.
“No, my dear. Not me, personally. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to lose myself in a good book as long as I’m the manager of that rowdy bunch.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Do ya?” And he broke into a big laugh again. Dressed in his casual clothes, Don could’ve passed off as an elderly tourist on the island, but Rory had no doubt that under that cool demeanor, he had a lot to worry about.
“I came to see if the wall was getting fixed and pay the guy.”
“Thanks, Don. I appreciate it.”
“No. Thank you, my dear. If it weren’t for you, Arsen probably would’ve gone to jail and the resulting media storm would’ve made matters much worse. I, personally, really appreciate you taking him in that night.”
There was no doubt in Rory’s mind that Don was genuinely grateful. Not just as the manager of the biggest rock band in the world, but as a personal friend of Arsen. What is it about Arsen that makes everyone take care of him? Why did I look out for him and take him in that night?
“On second thought, maybe I will take a look around the store. Maybe something will catch my fancy.” Don looked around thoughtfully, rubbing the scant stubble he wore, in a thoughtful fashion.
