Read Online Rocker (Rockstar BBW Romance) by Laura Demare - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Demare
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blouse, black slacks, and pumps. I looked and felt keenly out of place. The vibe I felt was, you got off at the wrong stop, lady. As I walked east on 4th street, things got worse. The sun was going down, the early fall air had turned suddenly chilly, and I was clomping down the narrow, dirty sidewalk to Astral Studios.
An impossibly dirty and matted man shuffled past me. He looked me up and down. I hadn’t seen a soul who remotely resembled me. No one was fat, no one was wearing a poly-blend and pumps.
Two women, about my age, passed me. At first I was relieved, and then I saw the sneer of disgust on their faces as they looked down on me from their lofty hipster perch. I kept looking at the addresses on the residential buildings praying that 1-6-3 would get here soon. 417 was the current address. Was I in the right place?
A couple of older Hispanic men passed by me and one actually said, “hello.” I felt a tiny sigh of relief, but they were gone. The next person I passed on the sidewalk was a thin and disheveled white kid about 20. He looked kind of desperate to me. As we passed each other, he turned his head and glared at me. I was a mark, I felt it. I sped up in a cold sweat.
I heard footsteps behind me. 217 the address read. Almost there. A car horn honked near me, I jumped slightly, and almost broke into a run. 1-9-7.
Then I stopped short. Up ahead a few narrow, residential buildings in front of me, was Stevie. He was standing on top of the front stoop of a building. The building’s front light shown down on him and woman.
It was their body language that killed me. They were standing too close to one another. She was tall and beautiful and cool looking. Stevie looked like he was in love. I backed into the shadow of a small tree. I forgot my fear of the street. They both chuckled at something and kind of titled the tops of their heads together until they touched. She put her hand on his shoulder. He smiled at her. His hand went to her waist. She kissed him on the cheek.
I’d seen enough. I whirled away and stomped back across 4th Street toward the subway. I didn’t see any sign of the scary kid, but I wasn’t worried about him anymore. Suddenly the street did not seem threatening at all, now that my life wasn’t worth living.
I went over and over it in my mind. Every tiny detail was seared into my brain. My gut told me they were lovers. There’s no way that they could have been that close and that comfortable with one another if they hadn’t done it. He’d fallen for some gorgeous NYC girl, who could blame him. He hadn’t come home last night. No wonder.
I didn’t let myself cry until I was back in the brownstone in Brooklyn. The kitchen was a disaster. My heart had been quick frozen and shattered. No way Humpty Dumpty was going back together. I sat down at the little kitchen table and wept softly.
Love you, too. Yeah right.
I washed the dishes while letting myself have it for being so naive. He’s in a band, you idiot. You’re not Yoko. You wish you were Yoko. You’re just a fling. Peter Paul Rubens. I’m just some big girl fetish. Now he’s moved on to some sweet, blonde hottie.
At one point, I splashed water on the lower front of my blouse and slacks. Oh my gosh, I couldn’t go into DDB another day in these dirty clothes. Janet was going to start to wonder what's wrong with me if I wear this again. Whatever . I stripped to my underwear and bra and trudged to the upstairs bathroom to wash my outfit out for tomorrow. I was so smug just a couple of hours ago. I was in love. I was still in love. At the top of the landing, Karl came out of his bedroom in only a pair of boxers, saw me, and smiled.
It wasn’t a smile like, good to see you, April. It was a smile like, caught you in your bra and panties. “Oh,” I said, holding my clothes in front of me, “I didn’t know anyone was here.”
“Just me,” he said, his eyes took in every
An impossibly dirty and matted man shuffled past me. He looked me up and down. I hadn’t seen a soul who remotely resembled me. No one was fat, no one was wearing a poly-blend and pumps.
Two women, about my age, passed me. At first I was relieved, and then I saw the sneer of disgust on their faces as they looked down on me from their lofty hipster perch. I kept looking at the addresses on the residential buildings praying that 1-6-3 would get here soon. 417 was the current address. Was I in the right place?
A couple of older Hispanic men passed by me and one actually said, “hello.” I felt a tiny sigh of relief, but they were gone. The next person I passed on the sidewalk was a thin and disheveled white kid about 20. He looked kind of desperate to me. As we passed each other, he turned his head and glared at me. I was a mark, I felt it. I sped up in a cold sweat.
I heard footsteps behind me. 217 the address read. Almost there. A car horn honked near me, I jumped slightly, and almost broke into a run. 1-9-7.
Then I stopped short. Up ahead a few narrow, residential buildings in front of me, was Stevie. He was standing on top of the front stoop of a building. The building’s front light shown down on him and woman.
It was their body language that killed me. They were standing too close to one another. She was tall and beautiful and cool looking. Stevie looked like he was in love. I backed into the shadow of a small tree. I forgot my fear of the street. They both chuckled at something and kind of titled the tops of their heads together until they touched. She put her hand on his shoulder. He smiled at her. His hand went to her waist. She kissed him on the cheek.
I’d seen enough. I whirled away and stomped back across 4th Street toward the subway. I didn’t see any sign of the scary kid, but I wasn’t worried about him anymore. Suddenly the street did not seem threatening at all, now that my life wasn’t worth living.
I went over and over it in my mind. Every tiny detail was seared into my brain. My gut told me they were lovers. There’s no way that they could have been that close and that comfortable with one another if they hadn’t done it. He’d fallen for some gorgeous NYC girl, who could blame him. He hadn’t come home last night. No wonder.
I didn’t let myself cry until I was back in the brownstone in Brooklyn. The kitchen was a disaster. My heart had been quick frozen and shattered. No way Humpty Dumpty was going back together. I sat down at the little kitchen table and wept softly.
Love you, too. Yeah right.
I washed the dishes while letting myself have it for being so naive. He’s in a band, you idiot. You’re not Yoko. You wish you were Yoko. You’re just a fling. Peter Paul Rubens. I’m just some big girl fetish. Now he’s moved on to some sweet, blonde hottie.
At one point, I splashed water on the lower front of my blouse and slacks. Oh my gosh, I couldn’t go into DDB another day in these dirty clothes. Janet was going to start to wonder what's wrong with me if I wear this again. Whatever . I stripped to my underwear and bra and trudged to the upstairs bathroom to wash my outfit out for tomorrow. I was so smug just a couple of hours ago. I was in love. I was still in love. At the top of the landing, Karl came out of his bedroom in only a pair of boxers, saw me, and smiled.
It wasn’t a smile like, good to see you, April. It was a smile like, caught you in your bra and panties. “Oh,” I said, holding my clothes in front of me, “I didn’t know anyone was here.”
“Just me,” he said, his eyes took in every
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