Page 40 of Meant To Be - Irresistible Bachelors

A ringing phone cracks the silence. I roll over again and glance at the blaring house phone. God, the sound is driving me insane. I feel like my head is about to explode. I’m sure it’s probably Rocky calling; it’s always him. I don’t want to answer, but I know if I don’t, he’ll just keep calling. I reach for the phone and grab it off the nightstand, knocking over everything that surrounds it. Beer bottles clink as they fall onto the floor, some shattering into pieces.

“Hello?” I answer, the phone pressed against my face.

I barely recognize my raspy voice.

“Leo?” Rocky questions, probably wondering if the harsh tone on the other end of the line belongs to me.

“Yeah,” I grumble.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie.

The truth is, I’m a mess. I haven’t showered in days, and the only times I’ve left my bed were to go to the bathroom and to meet the pizza delivery guy at the door.

I could never admit that to Rocky, though. He tried to warn me about dating Nikki, but I didn’t want to listen. He said that she was too young for me and that her fame might get in the way of our relationship, but I didn’t want to believe him. I’m too embarrassed to admit that she ripped my heart out and stomped all over it. The last thing I need to hear right now is an I told you so.

“You don’t sound fine. Are you still in bed?” he asks.

“Yeah, I had a late night,” I say.

“Were you in the studio?” he asks.

“No,” I say.

He’s silent for a moment.

“Leo, what’s going on with you? You just finished an amazing tour, and your fans are begging for new music. This is the perfect time to release an album. Don’t you want your career back?” he asks.

The only thing I want back is her; nothing else matters.

I sigh heavily into the phone as I run my fingers through my rumpled hair. I couldn’t care less about my career right now. My heart hurts badly, and the pain makes me never want to sing again. I’ll spend the rest of my days in this dark, lonely mansion, eating leftover pizza and drinking beer.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he asks.

“I don’t know if I want my career back,” I reply.

“What? Why? You’re a legend, Leo. You have loyal fans who love you, and now, even some of Nikki’s fans adore you too,” he says.

Why would he mention her name? Just hearing it makes my chest hurt.

“I’m just not in the right space right now to make music,” I say.

“Well, what’s changed? You were fine on tour. You helped rewrite one of Nikki’s old songs, and you were even writing some new ones of your own. What’s so different now?” he asks.

The difference now is that my heart has been crushed. On tour, I felt invincible, like I was the same rock star I was ten years ago. But now, I feel like a struggling musician still trying to hold on. Nikki brought life back into me, and now that she’s gone, I feel like the life has been sucked out of me.

“I think the tour was just too much for me. I need a break,” I hedge.

Rocky sighs on his end of the phone.

“The last time you needed a break, you went on a ten-year hiatus.” He pauses. “Leo, do you even want to be a musician anymore?”

I think for a bit; that’s a good question. I’ve never really thought about it before. I’ve been singing and strumming my guitar since I was fifteen years old. Music is all I know, and I’ve never thought about doing anything else. Before I met Nikki, music was my first love.

“I just need a break, Rocky. Just a few months,” I decide.

“I hope it really is just a few months this time,” he sighs.

“I’ve got to go,” I say.

“Alright,” he sighs again. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Bye,” I say as I hang up.

I slide the phone back onto the nightstand and roll over onto my side. I bury myself underneath the sheets, covering myself from head to toe with them. I toss and turn on top of the large mattress as I try to get comfortable. The doorbell rings, cracking the silence again. I don’t even bother to open my eyes because I’m not expecting anyone.

It’s probably just a neighbor coming over to complain about my untrimmed hedges and wildly growing grass. Newspapers have piled up on my doorstep, and I haven’t checked the mail in days. The outside of my mansion is just as messy as the inside. Whoever it is can go to hell; there’s nothing that can get me out of this bed right now.

The doorbell rings again, but I still don’t move a muscle. I keep my eyes shut, hoping whoever it is leaves me be. It rings a third time. Fuck! Who the hell could it be? A pesky neighbor wouldn’t be this persistent. It can’t be Rocky; I just spoke to him a few minutes ago. So who is it?

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