Beside the Music by BJ Knapp

Author:BJ Knapp [Knapp, BJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: rock n roll fantasy, troubled marriage, 80s rock band, love triangle
Publisher: BJ Knapp
Published: 2016-06-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

“OH, SHIT,” I MUTTER TO MYSELF as I approach our house after work. “How the hell did this happen?” I press my hand to my forehead as I pull into our driveway. I know Tim will go berserk when he gets home.

My day was bad enough. Baxter hates the rooster. They want to use a clam for the Made in Rhode Island logo. An icky gray clam with googly eyes on it. Who the hell thinks of a clam when they think of Rhode Island? Everyone thinks of Rhode Island Reds. I have the market research to prove it. But no. The client wants a shitty-looking clam on their product packaging. Nobody is going to get it—from far away, it looks like a gray lump of shit. Amanda flipped out on me about it, as if I can control the client’s opinion. Apparently it’s my job to control Baxter’s thoughts.

And now, chaos reigns at home. I managed to get rid of the hookers last night, but I have no idea how the hell I am going to make this go away. Surely the neighbors have noticed, and they’re probably not going to be happy about it, either. Hopefully they won’t call the cops. God, what if the press catches wind of this?

As I pull down the driveway, a crowd of people gathers around my car. I have to stop, just to avoid running anyone over. There has to be at least twenty to thirty people clustered on my front yard. They slap their open palms on the driver’s side window, trying to get my attention. I can feel them jostle the car, and I am afraid they’re going to break through the glass. How the hell did Hydra get through the ‘80s? I am sure this sort of thing happened all the time back then, and there were way more than twenty or thirty people. They must have had one hell of a security detail, not to mention car windows made of shatter-proof glass.

“It’s Brenda Dunkirk!” one female member of the crowd calls out. “She’s an old friend of Keith’s!” She holds up a picture that was taken at the Stone Yacht Club. It’s not a flattering picture: my ass is sticking out because, apparently, I was halfway to standing at the time the paparazzi stormed the restaurant. Not my best side.

She called me “an old friend of Keith’s?” Really? Then I suddenly realize: I don’t really have time to reflect on the ridiculous notion that Keith and I are old friends. The group of people swarms along the driver’s side. It’s absolutely terrifying. Are they going to climb on top of my car? Are they going to lift it from one side and tip it over? I honk the horn and gesture for them to get out of the way so I can pull my car all the way in. Thankfully, they part, and I am able to drive up to the house.

“Hi, Brenda!” A woman approaches me as I’m getting out of the car.

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