A Different Kind of Forever(21)
He was always the smallest kid in his class. The Catholic School bullies pursued him mercilessly, so he learned to be the toughest kid as well. He played piano in the concert band, made straight A’s, collected model cars and waited for his sisters’ dreams for him to come true.
Dave Adamson had stared at Denise in disbelief when she asked him to consider Michael for his brother Joey’s band. Joey had put together Mitchell Street with his best friend Seth Bascomb, and they were starting to get something of a reputation in the wide open North Jersey club scene. But the band was just a cover band, and lacked the extra kick that could mean success. Besides, Denise Carlucci was beautiful and sexy and when they were in bed together, he couldn’t say no to her. So, he agreed to listen to Michael. And he had been blown away.
Getting the band to accept Michael had been easy, once they heard him play and sing. Getting Anthony Carlucci to agree to let his underage son go on the road had been another story. But Denise had kept up her end of the bargain with her father. Michael’s grades never dropped. He never had a beer with his band mates, never smoked a joint.
Three months after he began performing with the band, just days after he turned sixteen, a twenty-three year old fan followed Michael into the unisex bathroom in a bar in Ithaca, New York. As he came out of one of the stalls, she was waiting for him, bare breasted, and she pushed him back into the stall, gave him a blow job as he stood balanced up on the toilet seat, then left without saying a word. Denise came in moments later to find her sweet, beautiful little brother fumbling to zip his jeans while a hard-looking blonde rinsed her mouth out at the grimy sink. Denise never said a word to him. She never had to. One look at the disappointment on her face was enough for him. It didn’t happen again.
Michael graduated high school the following year. He had been accepted to Princeton. He had been rejected by Julliard. The band was asked to go on tour with BonJovi. Anthony Carlucci traveled down to Princeton and received the personal word of the head of the Department of Mathematics that his son would be more than welcome the following year should he choose to take some time off to travel the country. So NinetySeven went on tour. Denise and Dave had married that spring, so Denise traveled with them while David continued to work at home and pay the bills.
When the band received an offer from PolyGram records, Michael told his father he wasn’t going to Princeton after all. Michael had grown up, filled out, and was no longer a skinny awkward kid. His youthful confidence had grown to a real power. Everyone could see it, especially his father. Anthony took one look at the contract the band had been offered, tore it up, and drew up another that at least would assure his son a shot at some real money. Anthony then took all the savings that had been earmarked for his only sons’ Ivy League education and offered to send Denise to law school, providing she specialized in entertainment and would look after her brothers’ business affairs. Denise agreed, and after the release of the first album, Dave went out with the band on tour.
In six gleeful months, Michael tasted every formerly-forbidden fruit. Drugs did not appeal to him. He didn’t like the feeling of being out of control, and worse, the loss of creativity. Too much alcohol made him physically sick. Women, however, had no distasteful side effects. With his beautiful blue eyes, blazing smile, and adorable face, he found himself drowning in them. He was careful, respectful, and considerate. He thought he had been in love a couple of times. But when he had looked into Diane Matthews’ big, brown eyes, he knew he had lost his soul.
He couldn’t believe how lovely she was. Not one of the usual beauties that drifted in and out of the vague world known as show business. Most of the women who had appealed to him until now had been model-thin, with translucent skin, straight, streaming hair and serious, intense eyes. Diane’s skin was dark and warm, her hair thick and curling. She had smiled and laughed when she could have been shrill or severe. Her face was all ovals - large, bright eyes, full, smiling lips, high cheekbones. Her body round as well. When he held her, she was soft and yielding, no hard bones and angles. And her lips had been soft, sweet and warm. On top of all that, she was smart and funny. He could not get her out of his head.
Saturday morning after the concert, he started calling her at nine in the morning. No answer. He left a message, then tried calling again after fifteen minutes. An hour later he went to his computer, downloaded directions to her address, and was on his way. She had said she would see him. She had said she would be home. No point, he thought, in wasting the day.
Her house was in an older neighborhood, the streets lined with shade trees and brick sidewalks. He pulled into number 17, a white, expanded Cape Cod, with green shutters, and lots of daffodils blooming. The front door was closed. A Subaru wagon was in the driveway, and the garage door was open. She was home. He went up the walk and rang the bell. There was no answer, but he could hear music. He walked around the house, past the garage. A post and rail fence surrounded the back yard, and as he pushed through the gate, he could hear the faint jingle of a brass bell that was attached to the gate. It should have announced his coming into the yard, but the sound was drowned out by the music that blasted out of open French doors.