How to Kill a Rock Star by Debartolo Tiffanie

Author:Debartolo, Tiffanie [Debartolo, Tiffanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Contemporary Women, New York (N.Y.), Fear of Flying, Fiction, Urban Life, Rock Musicians, Aircraft Accident Victims' Families, Humorous Fiction, Women Journalists, General, Roommates, Love Stories
ISBN: 9781402205217
Google: b9D9LgOWlw0C
Amazon: 140220521X
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2005-09-02T05:00:00+00:00

I asked the waitress for a box of crayons and tried to do the maze on the back of the children’s menu, but I kept hitting dead ends.

Dinner ended without one mention of Paul or Loring.

Later that night, while I was trying to beat Walker’s high score on Sonic the Hedgehog, Loring cal ed from Vermont.

“The boys want to tel you something,” he said.

Walker got on first and sang a mangled version of

“Happy Birthday” while Sean mumbled in the background, sounding just like his father. After Walker gave his brother the phone, Sean told me about the walkie-talkies he got for his last birthday. Then he said, “We’re making popcorn.

Here’s my dad okay bye.”

“How did you know it was my birthday?”

“I have my ways,” Loring said. “Hey, would you mind looking up a phone number for me? My book is in the nightstand, left side of my bed.”

The nightstands on either side of Loring’s bed were two square cubes made of burnished oak, with little mesh doors that opened in front.

I checked the first cube. “It’s empty,” I said, staring at a bare shelf.

“Are you sure you’re on the left side of the bed?”

“Wel , it’s the left side if you’re in the bed. You know, facing the TV.”

He laughed. “Try the other left side.” Instead of crawling across the mattress and messing it up, I walked around. There were a few books inside the cube, along with a pair of broken glasses, a toy car, and a notebook-sized box wrapped in white tissue paper.

“Happy Birthday,” he said.

I shook my head even though no one could see me.

“Loring, I can’t.”

“You have to. It took me hours to find it. You’l hurt my 24feelings if you don’t at least open it.” I sat down on the floor, turned the gift over a few times, and shook it. Nothing rattled. “What is it?”

“Open it.”

The extent to which I was touched by Loring’s gesture surprised me. I tore the paper along the seam where it had been taped together. Underneath the wrapping I felt glass, and I could see the back of a frame on the other side. I lifted it up and turned it around. A tear fel down my cheek and splashed over the word sky.

In my hands, under the glass, was a piece of paper containing the handwritten words to “The Day I Became a Ghost.” The paper had been torn out of a spiral notebook and stil had the frayed ends on the left side. Phrases had been crossed out here and there, new ones written on top of old ones, and there were thin lines drawn through a never-before-seen verse that hadn’t made the final cut.

“I know that’s your favorite song,” Loring said. “Those are the original lyrics.”

I sniffled.

“Eliza, are you crying?”

“No.”

“Yes, you are. Shit, I’m sorry. I was only trying to cheer you up.”

“You did. It’s just that, wel , sometimes happiness hurts.” A little before midnight the doorman buzzed me.

“There’s a Mr. Hudson looking for you.”

“What?” I said.

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