Drummer Boy: Did I misread the situation tonight? You’re not returning my texts, and I really thought we hit it off pretty well.

This is the third text I’ve received from Rocky. I don’t know what I should do. Well, that’s not true. I do know. I should keep ignoring him. That would be the smart thing, but I can’t. I like Rocky. I like being around him, and it’s not because he’s famous or because he’s hot as fuck. Well, maybe part of it is because he is hot as fuck, but he is a good person. Yes, he’s a bit of a mess and has some issues, but that doesn’t define him as a person. He just needs someone who’ll understand and support him.

I hear my brother’s voice in my head You’re a fixer, Kathy, but you can’t fix him. Maybe he’s right. I am a fixer, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to be there for Rocky because he needs a friend.

Me: I’m here. Are you there?

Minutes go by without a response. Just when I don’t think he is going to respond and that I’ve blown my chance, my phone pings.

Drummer Boy: I’m here. I’m not the one hiding.

Me: I’m not hiding. I was just doing what I was told. I was staying away.

Drummer Boy: Was? Are you not anymore?

Me: I’m finding it hard.

Drummer Boy: Oh, it’s hard, alright. Just thinking of you makes me hard.

Me: I meant staying away.

Drummer Boy: That’s a shame.

Me: Did you just sext me?

Drummer Boy: No.

Me: Yes, you did.

My phone immediately rings, and the caller ID says Drummer Boy. “Hey,” I answer on the second ring.

“I did not sext you, Kathy, I was just stating the obvious. Now, who told you to stay away from me?”

This is going to be an uncomfortable conversation. There’s no easy way to tell him the person he just hired to be by his side twenty-four seven starting in thirty days is the one person who doesn’t want me around him. “Well, I don’t want to tell you because I’m afraid you’ll be upset.”

Rocky’s voice sounds hurt when he speaks. “Cut the shit, Kathy. Just tell me who told you to stay away.”

“Rusty,” I tell him. “My brother says I need to stay away from you.”

“Why?” Rocky asks, confusion in his voice.

“Because he’s afraid it will affect his job with you. He doesn’t want me screwing up his job, OK?” I leave out the part about him being concerned about his addiction.

There is silence on the other end of the phone, and I’m almost sure he’s hung up when Rocky finally speaks. “Are you sure that’s the only reason, Kathy? What we do won’t affect his job. What will affect his job is him deciding what’s best for me.”

This is so not going the way I wanted it to go. What started off as a playful text conversation is ending with us having a debate on the phone.

“Isn’t that exactly what you hired him for, Rocky? You hired Rusty to watch over you and intervene when he thinks there is a risk that will lead you to make a bad decision. He’s just doing his job. It doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to him.”

I hear Rocky take a deep breath, then let it out. “Good, glad to hear you aren’t listening to him, because I’d hate to fire him before he even starts the job. Now, let’s get back to you and me. I want to see you. When can I see you again?”

Playing coy isn’t something I do well. I’m a kind of a say-what-I-feel-when-I feel-it kind of gal. “Is ten minutes too soon?” I suggest jokingly.

Rocky’s laughter roars through the phone. “How about tomorrow morning? I’ll take you to breakfast.”

I counter him. “How about tomorrow night, dinner? I have to work in the morning.”

“See you for dinner, then. Text me your address when we hang up, and I’ll pick you up at seven.”

I thought Rocky meant we were hanging up, but I was wrong. We talk for hours about everything and anything. He tells me how he met Cayson and the other band members. He shares how he once felt trapped into staying with the band, and how using drugs helped ease that feeling. Then he shares how he found the passion once again when they signed with the label and how he couldn’t imagine doing anything but being a drummer. But deep down inside, I can hear in his voice that he isn’t truly happy when he speaks about the music and the band. Not happy the way he sounds when he talks about his sister or when he speaks of his parents. There is something different; it’s as if he leads two lives. The one that he wishes he were living and the one he actually lives.

I feel myself almost drift off to sleep several times during our conversation, and when I Iook at my clock, I see it’s almost two in the morning.

I yawn loudly. “Rocky, I gotta go to bed. I have to work today.”

I hear the rustle on his end of the phone. “Shit, Kathy, I didn’t realize how late it was. Get some sleep, and I’ll talk to you later today.”