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Her eyes widened and then narrowed. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember me.”
He wouldn’t dream of it. The last time he didn’t remember a fan, she showered him with a gin and tonic. “It’s always great to see you.”
The tightness in her expression seemed to soften. “Where are you playing next? I’d love to see you again.”
Red shook his head. “This was just a one-night stan… I mean, show.”
A cloud of sadness seemed to descend over Sarah’s features, and Red felt a pang of guilt. He knew how much the fans loved Indigo’s music and hated disappointing them. But he was also exhausted and just wanted to get back home.
“Let’s take a picture.” Her voice was tinged with desperation.
Red hesitated for a moment before finally relenting. “Okay, sure.”
They posed for the photo, and Sarah leaned close to Red, her body pressing against his. He could smell the battle being waged between her drug-store perfume and the alcohol on her breath, with the alcohol winning, and Red felt a pang of sadness. Fans were almost always party girls, but he had never taken advantage of anyone drunker than him. He didn’t have to; they were literally standing in line. He used to love these moments, the thrill of a one-night stand with a beautiful fan. The connection was fleeting but fun. Music and manifest desire. However, lately, he’d been feeling empty and unsatisfied. He’d been searching for something more meaningful than just sex, but he sabotaged himself each time he thought he found it. He’d ruined it with Cameron and with Deanna. The truth was, forever didn’t exist in his world.
“I’m staying at a hotel nearby. Do you want to come over?” Sarah whispered in his ear.
Red’s mind raced as he weighed his options. Sarah was undeniably attractive, and spending the night with her was tempting, but he was conflicted. They always wanted more, and he had nothing more to give. He realized he wasn’t interested in Sarah’s offer but didn’t know how to let her down without hurting her feelings.
Before he could respond, Alex, their drummer, called out to him. “Red, we need to go.”
He seized the opportunity to break away. “As lovely as that sounds, my ride is ready.” He turned and walked away. Red felt a twinge of guilt as he climbed inside the stretch Samantha had ordered.
As he settled into his seat, he thought about the encounter with the red-headed cutie. He was glad he hadn’t gone through with it but felt lonely. He wished he could find someone who understood his passion for music and his desire for something more profound than physical attraction. He knew it was a tall order.
The rumble of the engine filled his ears, and the cool leather of the seat against his back was a soothing sensation. The city’s lights flashed outside the window, but Red was lost in thought.
“I’m surprised you didn’t tie her to the roof,” Dalton said. He and Samantha were inseparable.
“I’m over it.”
“Not tonight,” Gray said. His name was Gary, but he’d lost a bet with Red years ago and had to change his name to Gray legally. Red imagined he got laid a lot more without the weight of a name like Gary. The only good-looking Gary he could name was Cooper. He’d done the man a favor. “You’ll be over nothing unless you find a fan hiding in your bed again.”
“I’d hardly call it hiding.” Last week he came home to a woman who had dipped herself in chocolate and was waiting for him. She’d ruined his 900 thread count sheets and caused him hours of paperwork. The town of Aspen Cove was fed up with his shenanigans, or that’s what Sheriff Cooper said.
He couldn’t control these women. What happened to the fans who only wanted an autograph or a photo? Nowadays, they want your baby and half your earnings. The creepy ones wanted a clipping of your hair—or worse—in a vial they hung around their neck. He’d never forget Paris, where he woke up bald. Some chick he’d invited back to his room brought a pair of clippers, shaved his head while he was passed out, and sold it on eBay. It only proved that he couldn’t be trusted to make good choices. Not in women, at least.
He was torn by what he wanted and what he imagined the universe thought he deserved. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed something more than just the fleeting encounters with fans and groupies. He had been living the rockstar lifestyle for decades, and it had lost its appeal. He wanted something real, something meaningful. Maybe he needed a dog. Then again, his last one ran away too.
The other members of the band were chatting and laughing, but Red was lost in his thoughts. He stared out the window, watching the city lights fade away as they headed back towards the small town in the Rockies where he lived.
Three hours later, the limo pulled up outside his house, and Red said goodbye to his bandmates. He was glad to be back in familiar surroundings. As much as he said he hated the town, it had become home.
He walked up the steps to his front door and unlocked it, stepping inside to the musty scent of old records mixed with the aroma of stale coffee.
Walking through the living room, he caught a glimpse of his first guitar sitting in the corner. It was still his favorite because his pops had bought it for him. He handed it to him for his tenth birthday. His old man called it a “gee-tar.” The old instrument was a relic of a bygone era, with a weathered body and a cracked, yellowed finish that had seen better days. The wood had faded to a dark, almost black color, with the grain still visible beneath the wear and tear of years of use. The metal strings had lost their shine, and the tuning pegs were rusty and stiff. The fretboard had deep grooves worn into the wood from years of playing. The strings buzzed slightly when played, but the tone was warm and rich, with a depth that belied its age.
He picked it up and began to play, losing himself in the melody. As the music filled the room, he felt a sense of peace wash over him. This was what he needed. This was where he belonged. This was his love.
As he played, he thought about the encounter with Sarah. She was a good fan—the kind who was satisfied with a photo and a smile.
He knew he couldn’t live like this, chasing temporary thrills and meaningless encounters. He resolved to focus on his music, to pour his heart and soul into every note. Red continued to play, the music filling the room and his soul. When his eyes drooped, he set the guitar back in the corner, brushed his teeth, and climbed into his empty bed.
Several hours later, the mattress shifted, and a deep sultry voice whispered in his ear, “It took me forever, lover, but I’m here.” A hand snaked over his bare stomach and shifted south to what she had come for.
“What the hell?” Red bolted from the mattress and turned on the light. In his bed, wearing nothing but a smile, was Sarah.
“How did you get in here?”
