Rory vs. Rockstar

Rory and Lizzy stood by the back gate, watching the fancy cars zoom away and with that, the little party that had been so much fun came to an abrupt halt. They both walked back into the house and prepared to open the bookshop for the day. Neither wanted to and for both of them, the house seemed far too empty.

9

Two sales and a single drawn-out sigh. Yet again, Rory was at a loss as to why the damnable T-shirts weren’t selling. Even at her most critical, she judged herself a good artist. She put a lot of work and love into what she did and yet, the products refused to move off the shelves.

If she was to have any chance of paying off the property bills, she needed sales and a lot of them. Rory carefully packaged the two T-shirts that had sold yesterday for shipping. She had more than fifty of these still in stock. At least a hundred more of many other designs lay in the basement too.

Lizzy had suggested putting up a stall by the beach and selling these for a discount, but Rory just didn’t have it in her. She wasn’t a hustler; never had been.

The whole idea was to sell the stuff on the internet, where people could judge her art in their own sweet time. So far it had barely worked. For the hundredth time, Rory redid the math. Same old numbers appeared in her head like unwanted old school friends at a ten-year reunion. Uncomfortable.

“I am starved,” Lizzy remarked as she finished filing her nails. It was close to midday and Rory had already been contemplating closing the bookshop for lunch. No walk-ins yet.

“Do you think this new color looks good? I hope Mickey likes it when I meet him.” Rory wasn’t sure if Lizzy really asked a question or if she was talking out loud to herself. It wasn’t a surprise to her that Lizzy had been talking nonstop about the band, especially Mickey. Lizzy considered getting Mickey’s number a serious achievement. She really did expect to go out with him again. Rory didn’t have it in her to tell her otherwise.

When she noticed Lizzy staring at her with an eyebrow raised, she realized that the question was indeed for her.

“It looks nice. Everything looks nice on you, hon.” She smiled gently. “Don’t worry about what Mickey or anyone else thinks. As long as you like it, it’s all good.”

“Yeah…” Lizzy paused in contemplation. “But I still hope he likes it. He’s so sweet and talented and oh my God…so hot!” She exclaimed. “My God! I still cannot believe it. Me and Mickey Nicks!” And Lizzy was off to fantasy land again. Rory saw no point in arguing.

“Why don’t you go home and grab some lunch. I’ll see you back here in a couple of hours or so. I’ve got some errands to run. ”

A couple of days passed since the eventful afternoon with the band. A couple of days since the love story of Lizzy and Mickey had begun, in Lizzy’s own head at least.

Rory was shy to admit to herself that she had been thinking about Arsen as well. She found it strange at first as she had ne

ver been attracted to celebrities like Arsen, but she figured that this was why rockstars were so popular and had hundreds of women lining up for them. They were charmers and knew how to make people fall for them.

She wondered if Arsen’s ankle was any better, whether he and Mickey had gotten into a big fight, and whether Arsen’s car was fixed yet. If nothing else, at least these thoughts had taken her mind off her sister’s wedding and all the stress that came with it.

While waiting at the shipping company’s office, she randomly decided to check out Mickey Nicks’s Instagram. She had been curious if he had put up any pics of her house. Rory had stopped checking her own Instagram long ago as she barely had any followers and all the pictures from the awesome lives of people she knew just got her down.

Mickey’s Instagram had tons of pictures taken in the last few days. He had put a picture of him in her grandmother’s living room with the caption Haunted House. He’d also put up a picture of the food they ate and claimed to have cooked it himself. Haunted house? Didn’t take much for her to be infuriated at this man.

Forget it, Rory, not your headache, she reminded herself. It’s not like I have to meet any of those guys ever again.

Rory took a deep breath and felt the fresh air enter her lungs. It had rained a little that morning and everything felt so clean. The roads, the trees, and even the air that surrounded her. Once done with the shipping, she leisurely cruised around in her station wagon with no hurry to get anywhere on time. On a whim, decided to visit Martha at the bakery. One can never have enough cupcakes in the house.

A smile came upon her face as she saw the old bakery sign that Martha had carried over to her new location. Childhood memories of cycling with her grandmother to fetch goodies from Martha’s bakery came rushing back into her mind. Grandma Colleen was strict and no matter how much Rory begged, she would not let her have sweet stuff. That was only reserved for Sundays.

You won’t find your Prince Charming if all your teeth fall out, she used to say. She’d then hand Rory the money and let her pay Martha, something Rory loved doing as it made her feel like an adult. Martha, for her part, would always sneak in an extra sweet bread or an eclair for Rory, knowing that Colleen was unlikely to hold out once the bubbly child started making cute faces.

Just as Rory was about to pull into the parking space, she thought she saw a familiar face across the road.

The board that said Mike the Mechanic with its familiar rust patterns stood high above the terrace of his shop. Right under that sign stood Arsen Ford, his right hand placed firmly on a walking stick. He wore tight dark-wash jeans that stretched over his body enticingly, and a tight black T-shirt. His hair fell over his face before he raked it over his head again.

It was a dilemma. Should I go say hi to him? No, that would be weird. But why? He was a guest in my house and it is only polite to say hello. Oh God, he’ll think I’m just a groupie or something. No, we’re friends… or are we?

A million thoughts raced through her head as she sat in her car wondering what to do. In the end, she decided to walk up to him on the pretext of asking about his ankle. Rory wished she had put on something better than just a pair of shorts and casual flats. Her loose white top was probably making her look bloated, and it was only at the last moment that she thought of loosening her hair that was tied up in a messy bun.

“Hey.”

Arsen turned around slowly as he heard her call out to him. A playful smile came onto his face.

“I know you,” he said.

“Oh, do you?” She decided to play along.