Ain't Talkin' Bout Love

Another funny thing was that when I first broke up with Steve and started with Josh, I hadn't missed Steve at all. Maybe I'd known all along that I would see Steve again.

When I awoke the next morning, the trailer was already moving. Steve was still beside me snoring away. I got up and looked around. The trailer had full kitchen facilities but there was no food.

I wanted to call someone to tell them what I was doing. But I couldn't think of what to say. Finally, I called my best friend Angela. When she answered the phone, I could tell she was busy with her kids.

"Hey, do you want to meet up and take all of the brats to the park to play?" she asked. "I need a change of scenery and some adult conversation before I go nuts."

"Angie, I'm done with all of that," I said. I told her what I had done. There was nothing but silence on the line.

"Angie, are you still there?" I asked.

"Uh yeah!" she said after a long pause. "Val, are you okay? I mean why would you do something like that? You have a great life. You have two adorable kids and a really cute husband who loves you. I don't get it. Where are your kids?"

"Don't know, don't care," I said. "That is a problem for Josh."

"He must be really upset about this," she said.

"He'll get over it," I said. She started asking me questions about Josh.

"Val would it seem weird if I stopped by so my kids could visit yours?" she asked. Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I realized that Angie as a divorced woman would look at Josh like a hungry dog going after a steak. I didn't like it.

"Angie, stay away from my husband!" I told her.

"Val we must have a bad connection," she said. "I can't hear you. Val you're breaking up ...turhjdjh!"

"God damn it, Angie," I yelled. "That shit won't work. I know you can hear me." Then the phone went dead. I knew that Angie was going after Josh.

"Babe, I need to fuckin' sleep," mumbled Steve. I sat on the sofa quietly after that. Occasionally I looked out the window and watched the scenery pass. Being a rock star's girl friend was boring.

I must've dozed off for a while because when I opened my eyes, Bert was in the room, and he looked worried. He woke Steve up, and the two of them had a few words.

Bert came over to me, but not before I noticed something about Steve.

When Steve got out of bed, his bandanna had slipped to the side. It was all I could do to keep myself from laughing. The top of Steve's head was as hairy as a bowling ball. All of the hair on top was some sort of wig that was attached to the bandanna.

With Bert standing in front of me, I could barely concentrate on what he was saying. But then something came through.

"Are you hungry, Valerie?" he asked. "Can you and Danny go on a food run for us?" I listened intently to what he was saying. I wanted to earn my place and prove my worth, not just as Steve's girlfriend, but as a contributing member of the crew.

Bert explained to me that the trucks, and the bus that the band rode in and Steve's trailer were all massive slow moving vehicles. In order to make it to our destination on time they needed to keep moving. The answer was to send one or two people out in smaller faster cars to run errands. There was a McDonald's about ten miles up the road. We had to drive Danny's car to get as far ahead of the trucks as possible, go into the restaurant and get the food, then get back on the road and catch up to the trucks.

"Okay," I said.

In a few moments, the bus slowed, and I jumped out. A man who'd been following us in a car pulled right over to me. Bert had stuck some bills in my purse. I looked at the bills and counted over two hundred dollars.

"We have twenty guys to feed, plus you," said Danny.

Soon we had left the trailer and the trucks far behind us. We pulled through a toll booth and had to stop and answer questions as we entered the state of Indiana.

The officers were polite, and we were back on our way in minutes.

"The bus and the trucks will probably be searched when they get here," said Danny. "That will help us make some time up."

"Why will they search the bus and the trucks?" I asked.

"They always think that bands carry drugs or other stuff," said Danny, laughing. "Willie Nelson fucked it up for everybody. But they won't find anything."

"But Steve had..." I began. He smiled.

"Don't worry about Steve. He's way too smart to get caught. He'll have moved all of his stuff out of the trailer, by the time they get to the check point."

I had a funny feeling when he said that. I was really worried about Steve. I also had a lot of other things on my mind. Not the least of which was Josh and my kids.

Shit, I had to admit it. I missed Josh. I even missed his body destroying brats. I missed him waking up and reaching for me. I missed him staring at me like I was one of those women on TV. I missed him fondling my fat ass every time he could reach it. I missed his gentle yet passionate love making. I missed him eating my pussy. Apparently, Steve doesn't think I have done. I was beginning to think that I had made a mistake.

It took us almost an hour to get two hundred dollars worth of meals ordered and packaged. As we were loading the last of it, the bus, followed by Steve's trailer drove by. We quickly grabbed everything and drove off after the bus. We shot past them, and I noticed that the door of the bus was open. Danny snatched a few bags and handed them to someone on the bus. He did the same with each truck. Finally, we approached the trailer. It slowed down as we got to it and pulled over. I grabbed a couple of bags of food and drinks and waved good-bye to Danny.

Steve and Bert were laughing up a storm when I got into the trailer.

"I told you she was great," said Steve. Bert just kept nodding his head. That was the way it went for the next few days. It was early afternoon when we pulled into a compound surrounding a large dilapidated house. The house looked like it was on its last legs. There were people running around everywhere. As soon as the vehicles stopped, the crew started unloading equipment. After that they all took off. Some went inside of the house others got into cars or trucks and left the compound.

I wandered inside of the house. The inside was like a huge bachelor pad. There were several giant TVs in the great room. Some were attached to gaming systems, and others showed movies or videos.

There were several small children running around. They acted kind of like feral cats. They would sit or fall down in front of a TV or start playing a game. They also looked up at every adult who passed by them.

Seeing those kids made me think of my own. I started to wonder how I could have just walked away from my own children. They were my kids. Maybe after I got my feet under me, I could start sending them cards or small gifts from time to time. Maybe Josh would even let me visit them when I was in Michigan.

All of a sudden, I noticed Steve walking into the room. Everyone waved at him or nodded to him. He smiled and sat down on a comfy sofa. He took off the bandanna and with it the fake hair. He rubbed the top of his head and fidgeted around as if he was having trouble getting comfortable. He stood up and then pulled his shirt up. Underneath his loose-fitting jean shirt, he was wearing what looked like a girdle. He undid several Velcro straps and then dropped it to the floor. I was appalled. My rock god boyfriend was a bald, paunchy middle-aged man. He had gained at least ten years in appearance just by dropping his hair and his girdle.

As I looked across the room at him, I wondered what else about him was fake. Before I could really focus in on his face, SHE came down the stairs. The entire mood in the room changed. Everyone looked at her.

"Okay, what the hell happened?" she asked. Her voice was loud enough that she didn't have to yell or scream. Bert came running from nowhere. And Steve straightened up as if he was on trial.

"Uhm, Brianna ... uh Steve was showing signs of exhaustion," said Bert. "So we just rescheduled ... a few of the smaller market interviews, so he could ..."

"Bert, what do you do?" she asked. Again, her voice was unstressed and even calm sounding.

"I'm Steve's road manager," said Bert.

She nodded. I noticed then how beautiful she was. Her hair wasn't as long as mine or as thick, but it was beautiful. It was very blond with what I thought were a few strands of gray in it. She had a few wrinkles and was probably about my age. Several of the kids ran over to her, and one of the younger ones crawled up into her lap.

"That means that you manage Steve, while he's on the road correct?" she asked.

"Yes Ma'am," he said.

"Then why the hell didn't you MANAGE to get his ass to the interviews that he was supposed to do?" she asked. Bert seemed to physically shrink before her.

"Maybe it isn't you Bert," she said. "Maybe it's me. Maybe I just have this thing stuck in my mind where the interviews, and the concerts are supposed to drive up sales of the CD. Then I check the books and see that the fucking CD is not selling at all. I see that it's way below our projected bottom line. And I also see that ticket sales for the concerts are way down, which means that revenue from those concerts, is in the red. Then I get calls from not one or two, but seven radio stations where Steve didn't show up. That makes me think that we're going to lose money.

So let's see how this works. If the CD isn't selling, and we're losing money on the concerts, then I have no money to pay YOU or anyone else. That makes me think that maybe I need a new road manager. Someone who will treat my infantile husband more like a manager and less like a friend. Is that what I'm supposed to see?"

"No Ma'am," croaked Bert. "I'll do better."

"You're gonna fucking have to," she spat. "Let me explain something to you. Steve is basically a baby. Babies just scream and expect something. Stevie isn't a fucking opera singer. He just yells words over music. If he was less musical, he'd be a rapper. Steve doesn't understand the business side of things. He just wants to get in front of a crowd and do his thing. The truth is that he would probably do it for free. You and I have to BE the adults here, Bert. We have to make sure that we make MONEY. Do you understand that?"

"Yes Ma'am," said Bert.

"Bert, if we don't make money, we don't eat, and we don't pay our bills, and Steve doesn't get to perform. It's even harder now. Half of the kids out there don't even buy music anymore. They just steal it off of the Internet. I'll expect to see you in my office in an hour to go over the expense reports from the tour and talk about reducing costs for Europe!"

"Yes Ma'am," croaked Bert.

"Who the fuck is that?" she asked. She nodded her head towards me. There had to be at least twenty-five people in the cavernous room, but she had somehow picked me out of all of them. It was as if she knew every roadie, crew member and groupie there, but somehow realized that I was different.

Bert whispered something to her that I couldn't make out.

"What!" she laughed. "She's almost as old as I am. You're kidding right? Was he high when he... never mind!"

She crossed the room then, still shaking her head. When she got near me, she looked me straight in the eye and said, "Run."

I squared up with her and stood up. "You can't make me leave here," I said. "Steve invited me."

"Honey you can stay for as long as you want," she smirked. "I was trying to give you a chance to escape this circus while you had a chance. I wanted to give you the opportunity to go back to whatever it was you walked away from before you get hurt."

"No you're afraid that I'll replace you with Steve," I said. "We've already started having sex."

"If that's what you want to call it," she said. "I'm all for it. The more he screws you the less he wants to shove that thing up MY ass. Let me guess; you saw him on TV, and he's your soul mate right? Honey, my husband isn't anyone's soul mate except for his own. He doesn't know what love is. The man doesn't even know the names of his own children. All he knows is what he wants."

"But he..." I began.

"Yeah I know he sings lyrics about you," she said. "They all say that. Don't any of you listen to the lyrics? Steve doesn't do love songs. "Ain't talking bout love. My love is rotten to the core. Ain't talkin' bout love. Just like I told you before."

"What is it in that song that makes you think he loves you or anyone else? Tell you what, if you leave now I'll fly you back to Idaho or wherever you're from. If you decide to stay, you're on your own. I'll feed you and give you a roof over your head, but you'll have to get home on your own."

"I'm staying," I said.

"Okay, you can sleep in one of the rooms on the third floor with the other whores, when you're not fucking Steve. Make sure you use condoms. I got him snipped a few years back, but he doesn't need any diseases, and we can't afford any more God damned kids. I'm not even sure about all the ones we have now. Good luck. And find a way to make yourself useful. We don't need any more freeloaders around here."

She walked off, and I found myself staring after her. Things were not going the way I'd expected. From what I was able to see, Steve wasn't rich at all. I'd always thought that Rock stars basically printed money. But the music business clearly wasn't what it once was.

For the next couple of weeks, I tried to fit in. Brianna watched me like a hawk. I think she did everything she could to make me uncomfortable. There were a few times when members of the crew came over and started talking to me, only to disappear as if they'd been caught in a magician's puff of smoke when she came around.

At least she spoke to me several times. I think she needed it as much as I did. We talked about several different things. One of those things was Steve's career. Things were far worse than I had ever expected.

"This record is simply not selling," she said. "I wish that asshole hadn't shot his mouth off and tried to be a big shot."

"This probably isn't my place to suggest," I said. "But is there no chance that he couldn't just go back to..."

"Hal Naven?" she asked. I nodded. "Honey, those little Dutch boys may as well be the M&M twins. The only things they seem to know about are music and money. They had replaced Steve two days after he left and they have never looked back. They got the former lead singer from the band Mongoose, Stanley Hungar. They took their time and put out what might be their best album ever. It's certainly more of a commercial success. It's a bit different from the stuff they were doing with Steve. All of the rock writers seem to believe that Steve was holding them back musically. Their album is number one with a bullet on the rock charts. They're also selling out stadiums all over the world. Everyone seems to want to see how they perform live, without Steve."

"Well, Teddy really is an incredible guitar player," I said. "I always thought that he and Steve were best buddies. Whenever you see them in concerts they're always smiling and patting each other on the back and stuff."

"It's an act, Honey, said. "They do it because the audience wants to believe they're happy and friendly and having a great time. When they're not performing Steve and Teddy can't stand the fuck out of each other."

"But why," I asked?

"Ego," she said. "The music business is driven by it. Steve hates the fact that the Band was named after Teddy and his brother. He also hated the fact that Teddy was always getting those awards as best musician or best guitar player. Every time you picked up a guitar magazine it had Teddy's face on the cover. Teddy hates Steve because for Teddy the music was everything. If it was left up to Teddy they probably wouldn't tour nearly as much. He built a studio on his property and he goes there every day just to jam and to record. Steve almost never rehearses and he gets really sloppy live. There are more than a few times when he was so drunk while on stage that he forgot the lyrics and just started to hum or mumble gibberish along with the music."

"Wow," I said.

"There's also the drug thing," she continued. "Those little Dutch boys drink like fish, but they don't do recreational drugs. Steve on the other hand has been in and out of rehab since he was in short pants. You need to be careful that you don't get pulled into that shit."

"So what happens now?" I asked.

"Well, if sales of the record don't pick up, I'm gonna have to give Steve a kick in his ass," she said. "I may have to burst his fantasy and explain to him that he just isn't solo act material. We may have to put him in another famous band as a replacement singer. Failing that, he can always go on the has-been circuit. Maybe I can get him a spot as a judge on U.S. Idle or the Throat."

Another thing we always seemed to talk about was my life. She seemed to be fascinated by hearing about my life, my family, and my marriage.

"So he never cheated on you even once?" she asked me for probably the tenth time.

"He paid all of the bills and came home to you every night?" she continued. I just nodded.

"So what did he do wrong?" she asked. I had no answers for her. I was beginning to realize that I had probably made a big mistake.

Two days later we were back on the road. Brianna had slipped me a few hundred dollars to make sure that I had money to eat and for surprise expenses.

Brianna had done some moving and shaking behind the scenes. In the time that we'd been home she had pushed back the European tour dates to allow for a quick jaunt through several southern states. She'd had Steve doing interviews with every southern TV, radio, and internet outfit that she could find. Almost by strength of will she was forcing him down the public's throat. By doing that she had forced the public to think about him and by doing it, had forced the sales of the record up a bit.

She'd also given me a phone and told me to be careful and if I saw Steve doing anything stupid, to call her without any hesitation.

Steve was glad to be back on the road again. I think that he had the idea that while we were on the road he could control things. When the band was at home, Brianna was clearly in charge. The first night that we were back, we had sex again. It was as bad as all of the other times. The next morning I asked him the question that had been going through my mind.

"Steve, what is it with you and anal?" I asked him.

"Your pussy isn't really tight enough for me to enjoy it," he said. "Your ass squeezes my dick and it feels really good. Besides, you like it too, right? You're my freaky little ass fuckin' sweetheart, right?"

"Uhm ... sure," I lied. "I was just wondering."

He smiled at me and for a second he seemed like the boy he was when we were in college. Sure he had a beer gut that he wore a girdle over and with his big nose and hairless pate, he resembled a bald eagle, but just for a second we were young again.

In that final few seconds I had begun to hope. We were clearly having a moment. He reached for me and even though my ass was still sore from the sex we'd had the night before, I decided that the moment was too special for me to ruin with my whining. Maybe if I had whined less and realized what I had, I'd still be with Josh and I wouldn't be a...?

I actually had no idea what I was. I was somewhere between a groupie and a whore. I didn't really have time to ponder it because voices rang out from outside of the trailer suddenly. We slowed down rapidly and Steve and I were thrown off of our feet. Before we knew what was going on, the door of the trailer was ripped open. It was actually yanked open with so much force that it was damaged.