Happy Accident Read online

  This time was different, though. It wasn't just that Scratch was our favorite band—it was really Rob Burnett I was here to see. I wouldn't admit it to anyone but Katie, who had known me in my teenage rock-star-crush days, but I had a serious thing for Rob Burnett. I knew it was ridiculous, a thirty-four-year-old elementary school teacher with a crush on a rock star. Silly or not, I felt an inexplicable connection to him. Sometimes I thought Rob channeled my own thoughts and feelings through his songs.

  So, of course, when I heard Scratch was coming to town, front row seats became an imperative. I don't think I'd ever wanted anything more. I guess the last minute glitch at Katie's dad's office, which almost cost us the tickets, made me realize how important seeing Rob really was to me. We'd nearly been thrown into the general population, probably somewhere in the upper bowl, relegated to carrying a pair of binoculars and Kleenex for the nosebleeds. I'd given Katie hell about it, too, I remembered, feeling guilty.

  “Apology accepted.” Katie stuck out her tongue at me and then lifted her laminated card and mouthed, “All-Access-Pass,” punctuating each word with a raise of her eyebrows. Then she squealed again and hugged me. Some part of me still thought I was going to just wake up.

  That's when the stage went dark, and the crowd's wave of sound broke like a tidal wave over my head. We both screamed and clutched at each other in our excitement, bodies all around us standing, insisting we stand with them. Colored laser lights played over a white sheet descending from the ceiling in front of the stage, and I saw shadowy figures taking their positions.

  I couldn't believe, as the sheet dropped in a ghostly dance to the floor and the lights went up and the music began, that I was watching the same Rob Burnett I'd been standing face-to-face with less than half an hour before. He'd thrown a jeans jacket over his t-shirt, but he looked just like he had outside. The entire place came alive when he began to sing. The sound of his voice transported me, as it always did, magnified by ten because he was right there in front of me.

  The whole arena was a sea of bodies, bobbing and swaying as one entity. Shrill screams went off around the theater like pressure cookers exploding, and I felt one building in me too. Katie went off first, screeching and waving her arms. She looked straight at Tyler, and he grinned and gave her a wink! That was enough to make me squeal, clutch her arm, and shake her. She hardly noticed.

  My heart hammered in my chest as Rob prowled the perimeter of the stage. He stopped and smiled at a fan reaching out to him as he sang. The roadies whisked the sheet away, and the light moved all over him now, his face bright with primary colored hues. I couldn't take my eyes off him—his powerful build, his flashing eyes!

  They went immediately into another song, and then another, the wildness in the crowd rising with every note. Rows and rows behind us, signs began to pop up, held way above the mass of heads. I looked back once in a while, just to get the perspective of sitting here, right in the front row. I smiled at one of the signs which read: “You Scratch my itch!”

  When the song ended, the crowd's voice rose in praise, and Rob grinned. He looked like he was having a great time as he wiped sweat from his face with a towel. He tossed it into the audience at the opposite end of the stage and a dozen people scrambled for it. How Elvis, I thought, laughing out loud.

  “I gotta tell ya, those damn lasers scare the crap outta me.” The light path followed him toward the edge of the stage and he stepped back. All at once, the crowd appreciated his humor with a loud roar.

  “You guys are a great crowd!” Rob put the microphone in its stand and the fans screamed their appreciation. “Sometimes I still can't believe I get to do this for a living.” My heart swelled at his words. “Honest, we're five ordinary guys, playing our music up here just because we can. People seem to want to hear us or something. I think we're pretty lucky.”

  A girl's voice from behind us rang out, “We're the lucky ones!”

  Rob shielded his eyes as he looked out into the audience, replying, “I'm glad you think so.”

  The collective wave of emotion was amazing as they went into another song. This one was slower, but his voice was expressive, deep and resonant. He held the shirt cuff of his sleeve as he sang, like he was holding a security blanket. I watched him, moved, a lump in my throat.

  I was swept away in the current, jostled forward again by people flooding into the space in front of the stage. Katie and I found ourselves together, dancing and singing in front of the same security guard who had let us in the arena. He gave us a half-smile, just a flash, before he resumed his obdurate stance, looking over the crowd.

  I was disappointed Rob hadn't noticed or acknowledged me, the way Tyler had Katie, but I shook it off, touching the All-Access-Pass strung around my neck. The thrill of connecting with him face-to-face, and the possibility of doing so again, should be enough, I reasoned.

  Someone threw a rose on stage and Rob grabbed it, walking around with it clenched between his teeth. It was during the guitar solo, and I laughed as Rob strutted toward Tyler, who grinned at him. I was amazed how his hands just knew what to do, without having to look or really pay attention to his instrument. It must become second nature, I thought, like learning the steps of a dance and just letting it flow.

  Rob took out the rose to sing the next verse, but he carried it with him. When the song ended, he glanced at Tyler. “Hey, Tyler, you got any water for this pretty flower?”

  Tyler snorted. “Yeah, sure, right here in my pocket.”

  “Dude, I'd reach my hand in your pocket anytime. We all know you're the sexiest man on this stage...with a big guitar!” Rob waggled his eyebrows, and I laughed again, amazed I could actually see him do it—that's how close we were! Katie screamed in agreement at Rob's sentiment. She clearly thought Tyler was a sexy man with a big guitar, too!

  “I'd let you.” Tyler shrugged. “But these pants ain't got no pockets!”

  Tyler had changed from his jeans and into a pair of very tight leather pants. Just that I was privy to that knowledge made me feel lightheaded. I felt strange, like I was floating. It just can't get any better than this, I thought.

  And then it did.

  “Guess I'll have to find something else to do with this, then, huh?” Rob turned toward the audience with the rose. “This next song is dedicated to a girl I bumped into earlier tonight.”

  My heart stopped. In spite of the body heat generated by the crowd and the beads of sweat rolling between my breasts, I felt suddenly chilled. I actually got goose bumps. As Rob moved toward us, my mind screamed, He isn't really—this isn't happening! No way!

  He bent toward me, on one knee as he extended the rose. Girls all around us were reaching for it, but I stood transfixed, mouth open. This can't be real! Rob held the rose above the array of hands, making direct eye contact with me. He held the mic off to one side and said to me, just to me: “For you, Sabrina. Glad you got your pass!” His eyes lingered at the laminated card between my breasts and then he winked. “See you after the show.”

  I finally got my arm to work, reaching for the rose and offering him a shocked, bemused smile. He nodded, standing and moving center stage. “Because it's your favorite song...” He winked at me. I felt waves of jealousy from everyone around me, and I was both uncomfortable and exhilarated at once.

  "Startin’ in sin with you, what's this poor boy gonna do?

  This ain't love, honey, so it must be art.

  I can't give what ain't mine, girl, so take all you want to,

  You can't break a broken heart."

  Katie screamed, pulling my sleeve. The rose trembled in my hand as Rob began to sing my favorite song. I knew he was singing it for me as he prowled the stage, back and forth, the veins on the side his neck bulging when he sang the chorus. My eyes focused there on the pulse of him, the blood and sweat of him throbbing there for all of us to see. The moment was intimate and sublime, a gift he shared not just with the crowd, but exclusively with me. For one brief, shining moment, I had been part
of it.

  The rest of the concert was a blur. I clutched the rose, the stem nestled right against the All-Access-Pass stuck to my damp chest. The pseudo-finale left the entire arena vibrating and alive as the lights went dark. The crowd began to chant, “Rob, Rob, Rob!” I was immediately taken back to standing in the cold, hearing his name being called again and again, so afraid I wasn't going to get in to see him, afraid our night was going to be ruined.

  Yet, it just couldn't have turned out better. My heart soared when the lights came on a few moments later, and they sailed into another song. I felt as if I couldn't get enough, like I wanted more and more, until I was bursting with the fullness of his presence, the music a live thing, moving through and into me again and again.

  When the real finale came, Katie and I hugged, holding each other aloft as the throng of people around us cheered and chanted for more. We knew it was over when the lights went up and the roadies started dismantling the equipment. A couple of girls came up to us, eyeing the passes around our necks and asking how we got them. Katie talked to them while I grabbed our coats.

  “Let's ask him how to get backstage,” Katie suggested, motioning to the security guard who had let us in. I raised my eyebrows and nodded at the brilliance of her plan. We could have wandered forever not knowing where to go. The guard went to talk to another security guard, asking us to wait.

  “Katie, oh my God,” I gushed, resting my head on her shoulder. “Did you see him? Did you see him when he gave me this?” I showed her the rose. It didn't have a little rubber stopper of water at the bottom, and it was already beginning to droop.

  “Everyone saw, Sabrina!” She lowered her mouth to my ear. “I think he really likes you.”

  I laughed, lifting my head to look at the two guards still talking. “Oh, come on, Katie. This is Rob Burnett we're talking about. He felt bad about what happened. He was just being nice. And he's married.” Still, the thought made me tingle all over.

  Katie shrugged. “I'm just saying. The way he looked at you? I'd bet you he would take you to his hotel in a heartbeat. You think these guys don't have one-night-stands with fans?”

  I contemplated her words and even let myself fantasize about it a little bit, a warm flush spreading through my limbs. “What about you and Tyler?” I asked, a clear deflection.

  Katie's smile was determined. “Let's just say I don't intend to let the opportunity pass me by!”

  The security guard came toward us. “I can show you backstage if you want.”

  I smiled at him. “Hey, thanks. Are you sure?”

  “Just cleared it with my boss,” he replied. “It's not a problem. Follow me.” The phrase reminded me of Lurch from The Addams Family, and I couldn't help smiling as he turned his considerable Lurch-like bulk and we fell in line behind him.

  I held Katie's hand as she swerved her way through the multitudes of people, keeping her eye on the guard's back. He glanced over his shoulder now and then to make sure we were following until he stopped outside of a black door which blended into the black venue walls. There were guards posted there, too, but no more hordes of people. We had sailed through those with our passes, showing them to other guards on the way.

  “Thanks so much,” I told him. “What's your name?”

  I half-expected him to say Lurch, but he answered, “Gary. You two be good now.”

  Katie grinned. “Oh, we will. We promise. Very good.”

  I nudged her as we showed our passes to the sentries outside the door. One of them opened it and let us through, telling us there would be two more checkpoints. He was right—another hallway, and another door flanked by guards, and then up a small flight of stairs.

  The last checkpoint door with one guy standing guard opened to a huge room full of people sitting on couches and chairs. A big flat screen TV sat against one wall with a hockey game on. Every surface had food and drink, fruit plates, vegetable trays, cases of water, beer, wine. Everyone talked and laughed together, like they all knew each other. They looked up when the door opened, and then continued their various conversations.

  I looked sideways at Katie and she shrugged, reaching for a beer on the end table nearest us and twisting off the lid. “Guess we should just, uh...make ourselves at home...and wait?”

  We wedged ourselves together on an ottoman, Katie drinking Heineken and me with an Evian water, which felt like liquid heaven pouring down my throat. My voice was hoarse from screaming. I pretended to be watching the hockey game, feeling awkward and uncomfortable, my eyes skipping around the room now and then, looking for the place where Rob might come in. I couldn't pretend I didn't want to see him again.

  The hockey game went into overtime while Katie got up to get another beer. I shrugged my coat off, too warm, and picked fuzz off my black t-shirt. I didn't see him come in, but the reaction of the room told me he was there—somewhere behind me. I turned to look over my shoulder as the whole band entered the room together.

  People flocked around them. Several were obviously fans, like us, proud and lucky with their All-Access-Passes hanging around their necks. I wondered idly how you got your hands on one when the lead singer didn't nearly knock you down several flights of stairs. Katie tipped her beer at me and sauntered over nearer to the band. I turned, but didn't move from my seat on the ottoman, feeling uncertain and deflated. In spite of my dismissal at Katie's suggestion, a part of me clung to the spark of hope the fantasy might come true, that I might end up in Rob Burnett's hotel room.

  As I watched him talking, signing autographs, joking and laughing, I saw something I hadn't before in the few moments he was outside with us. This was his public face. Outside, he had been wide open, showing me something real, probably surprised into it by circumstance, but still... What I was looking at now was clearly a facade. It made me sad and I wanted to leave. Katie had cornered Tyler, I noticed, and she pressed as close as decency would allow as they talked—probably closer. I knew we wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon, so I sat and sipped my water and decided to just people-watch.

  Rob saw me and smiled, waving. I half-waved, but didn't move from my seat. Instead, I drank my Evian, crossing my legs at the ankles and watching, wondering how in the world this situation had manifested. I still felt like I was drifting through. A few girls with autographed tour programs tucked under their arms giggled together as they passed me. They had taken several pictures with Rob and received a myriad of kisses from him. Now Rob looked at me, his gaze steady and attention focused, although he talked to a guy beside him wearing a Scratch t-shirt.

  I tipped my Evian bottle, draining the last drops, and turned to the table for more when I felt him standing by me. I don't know how I knew it was him, but I knew it before I turned and found myself face-to-face with the snap on his jeans.

  “Hi, Sabrina.” Rob smiled and I melted. I didn't want to melt. It just happened. His clothes were different than his concert outfit, I noticed, and his hair was wet. Shower, I thought. Of course, they must shower after the show.

  “Hey, Rob.” I smiled and hoped I wasn't blushing. My cheeks felt hot. “Fantastic show!” I couldn't think of anything else to say, although I realized he must have heard that particular phrase hundreds of times from fans. So much for being determined to be unique and unusual and different.

  “Thanks,” he replied. “How's your head?”

  “Oh, it's fine.” I touched the spot where he'd hit me with the door. It was still tender. I'd never even made it to the bathroom to even look at it. It occurred to me then, I must look awful—a big cut on my head on top of being sweaty from dancing during the show.

  “I'm really sorry about that,” he apologized, sitting on the couch across from me.

  “No harm, no foul.” I winked. “Don't worry. I won't sue you or anything.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Is that why you think I invited you? Because I was afraid of getting sued?”

  I shrugged. “Big rock star, lots of money, a little accident—yeah, it crossed my mind
you might be worried.”

  He nodded, frowning, but didn't respond. Instead, he reached over and grabbed a cranberry juice from the table, opening it and balancing the lid on his knee as he drank it all in one tip-up.

  “Do you want something?” he asked when he finished, waving toward the collection of beverages. “It's all free.”

  “What a life.” I smiled. “I'll take another water.”

  “Come on, live a little.” He grabbed a beer, cracking it open before handing me the bottle.

  I took a sip and winced. “I forgot how awful this stuff is.”

  “Not a drinker, huh?”

  I made another face. “No, not really. Sweet things. Girlie drinks, you know, daiquiris and stuff like that, but I don't drink much.”

  He grinned. “So, I could get you drunk and take advantage of you?”

  I smiled, feeling a slow heat flushing my cheeks. “I'm a cheap date that way.”

  He leaned back, arms behind his head, and studied me. “So tell me, what is there to do around this town?”

  “Detroit?” I nearly spit out my mouthful of beer. “Besides seeing the homeless or getting mugged?”

  He laughed. “That bad, huh? The bus doesn't leave until the day after tomorrow. Guess they should have planned our layover for Florida?”

  “Well...” I took another sip of the beer, feeling guilty he'd opened it just for me. “Actually, there is something going on tonight at The Attic in Hamtramck, but I don't know if you'd be interested.”

  “Isn't that a blues bar?” Rob perked up. “Someone told me about it last time we came through, but I never had a chance to go. I love the blues.”

  “You do?” I knew very well he did. I wasn't a lazy Rob Burnett fan. I knew all his influences. “Jimmy Voss is playing a set there tonight.”

  Rob sat straight up, the cap from his cranberry juice tumbling from his knee and clattering to the floor. “You're kidding me! Raymond Voss’ brother? The Bad Dog Blueshounds?"