Rock All Night(19)

They played Katy Perry’s ‘Roar,’ too, at which point Casey and Mara lost their freakin’ minds – although in Derek’s hands, the girl-power anthem turned into something more like an MMA tournament intro song, dangerous and menacing, as a fighter strode onstage to beat the crap out of his opponent.

They continued on like that, alternating their own songs and those by other bands, putting their own unique spin on other people’s hits. It was an incredible two hours of raw, visceral energy and sexual tension, with Derek teasing and cajoling, taunting and seducing the crowd – especially the women. There used to be a saying about the Rolling Stones, back when they were in their prime and performed to mostly female crowds: ‘not a dry seat in the house.’

Yeah, that was pretty much the case here, too.

They were screaming. They were writhing. Panties would occasionally fly up on stage; bras, too. And at least two dozen times, I saw women flashing their bare breasts from the pit – usually while they were perched on the shoulders of some guy, probably either a very whipped boyfriend or some dude placed perpetually in the Friend Zone.

I’ve never seen such a display of unbridled, lustful longing – or should I say felt, because it was almost like an invisible electrical field, the kind of sensation from power lines that made the hairs on your arm stand up, or something deep inside you buzz. Except the power source was desire and longing and sex.

It was weird. It was hard reconciling the Derek I knew with Derek Kane, Rock God – because I had all the memories of the gyro place after Eastern Promises, of him admitting he cried during Dumbo, of the picnic in my dorm room, of him saying he loved me before I drove away in tears.

I also had the memories of the songs on the radio, the talk show appearances, the pictures on TV and in magazines and on the internet of him playing before tens of thousands of adoring fans.

You know that line, “And never the twain shall meet”? Yeah, well, finally the twain had met, and it was… disconcerting. It was like finding out someone you knew really well – or thought you knew really well – had a double life. Was a spy, or a gigolo, or had two separate wives and families on opposite sides of the country.

Which is weird, because I knew he was a rock star. It’s not like it was a secret.

It’s just that I knew it the way I know E=MC2, not the way that I know the sun will rise tomorrow morning. Meaning I intellectually knew it, but I didn’t feel it in my bones. Not till I saw him perform.

It’s hard to explain.

It also bothered me to see him the object of so much female adoration – women who would have done anything to spend a night with him. Pay him, debase themselves, fulfill whatever fantasy he commanded them to – just for one night.

I’d had that chance, and I’d thrown it away. Or at least shortchanged it. And for what? For a creep of an ex-boyfriend I’d dumped five months later.

As I watched all those rapt, adoring, beautiful faces out there, the pouty lips shrieking his name, I felt the pain from the photographs on Facebook all those years ago when he and Ryan were just starting out: hotties hanging all over him, women throwing themselves at him…

Jealousy.

Gnawing, biting jealousy, deep in my gut, bitter and acid and relentless.

I’m not a jealous woman by nature. I never was jealous with any of my exes, never asked where they were when they went out with buddies, never worried about them talking to girls.

Of course, none of them were nearly as hot as Derek…

…and I had never wanted any of them as much as I wanted him, either.

And he wanted me, too. He’d made that clear.

But I didn’t want to be a cheap lay, a one-night f*ck, a checkmark on a list – Yup, finally banged her. I wanted something more.

At least, my brain wanted something more.


My lady parts were pretty much raring to go.

And my heart… my heart was torn between the two.

Which is why it took me by surprise when he started singing “Still Into You.”

It’s a hit by the band Paramore, which is fronted by a tiny, flame-haired pixie of a woman (although she has a voice that can belt it out with the best of ‘em). Anyway, the song is a fun, energetic romp – but it’s pretty girly, all about butterflies and love and holding hands and still being into her boyfriend of five years.

And here Derek was performing it.

He must have told the band when I wasn’t listening, because it hadn’t been included on the set list they’d decided on in the limo.

He’d planned it, with the sole intention of surprising me.

I was a little amused at how many ‘chick songs’ he had performed tonight – Katy Perry? Hayley from Paramore? (Although Perry Farrell of Jane’s Addiction has a higher voice than either of them on “Been Caught Stealing.”) A less secure rock dude might not have opened himself up to the snarky comments. But every song originally sung by a woman, Derek turned into something unmistakably masculine – sometimes dark, always driving and aggressive and testosterone-soaked.

And he was singing it to me.

He was gazing right into my eyes as he belted out the chorus.

“Still Into You.”

Like a coded message for me alone.

And then he turned back to his adoring female fans, and jealousy surged up and gnawed at my guts a little more.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one affected by the green-eyed monster, because I looked over and saw Mara looking at me like she wanted to kill me.