Lebpreciation

The Only One (Final)

The photo that started it all…

The Only One
Part 2

Final Chapter

“Sweet ocean liner, come anchor down. Sea of forgiveness, see what I found.”
Kings of Leon, unreleased song.

Stars will fall…

Although Claire and Johanna were never close, not even friendly really, other than a polite “hello” and a brief acknowledgement of each other during family events, once engaged, Claire adopted Johanna’s philosophy—keep everything private.
The record label wanted to make a public announcement regarding the engagement of Kings of Leon’s front man, and he told them that he’ll talk to his fiancée. His fiancée balked and said “no” to any announcements.
“I am sorry, I am not a public figure. I don’t see the need to announce to the world that I am engaged,” she explained.
“But I am a public figure,” he reminded her.
“Which is great. And your own decision. However, when it comes to engagement, it takes two to tango. So of course I can’t prevent you or your management from having some kind of a PR blitz about this, but I’d rather you didn’t.”
Caleb sighed but chose not to fight her on the issue.
He wanted to make her happy, because he was in love.
The record company wasn’t particularly thrilled about the decision. Because Claire was very pretty, and came off as a proper, yet modern vision of a Southern woman, they were eager to tout her and play up the whole Southern romance bit to the fullest. Here she was, a stunner (their words), but not a model, with a solid background of genteel all-Americanness, well-educated, with a brother who was a star football player, from a good family, and so on. Just as they were happy about the Nathan/Jessie union, they were looking forward to the Caleb/Claire union as well. The women fit their roles of tamers of wild rock n’ rollers so well. Besides, now that the Kings were playing arenas and selling hundreds of thousands of concert tickets, their women had to be “appropriate” just as well.
“She’ll come around,” vaguely promised Caleb. “She is just a little shy.”
So he continued to refer to her as his “girlfriend” in interviews. For years now, whenever he mentioned a “girlfriend” it meant to the initiated that he was referring to Claire. When he said “Lily”…well, that meant Lily. He always had to catch himself in time and make sure that he didn’t mess up. Sometimes, publications incorrectly assumed that he was talking about Lily and would even mention her name in parenthesis as in {lingerie model, Lily Aldridge}, and that always made Claire do a double take, and then laugh.
The engagement was celebrated in San Francisco, which was one of Claire’s favorite cities. They flew the families there, and dined at arguably the best San Francisco restaurant “Spruce”. Nathan and Jared presented them with a bottle of DOMAINE DE LA ROMANÉE-CONTI 1990 at $5300 and after two bottles of CHÂTEAU MARGAUX 2005 at $2000 each, and various bottles of Le Montrachet which varied from $700 to $4000 a bottle, plus dinner for eighteen, they came out almost $25,000 poorer.
“Well, this is the way to party!” announced the very satisfied Caleb.
“Like a rock star,” laughed Nathan.
“And I didn’t even make you leave the tip!” laughed Caleb and poked Claire on the nose.
She rolled her eyes and muttered, “Well, thank G-d for that!”
Earlier in the year, while in Spain, they dined at El Bulli, spent an inordinate amount of money and then Caleb suggested that Claire leave the tip. Well, the tip was 8,000 Euros. She left it, but she was not amused.
“Oh wow, you are such a gentleman.”
They stayed in California for a few days, while the guys went on a thorough tour of Napa and Sonoma Valley wineries.
One morning, Claire and BettyAnn were at breakfast. It was a rainy day, and they were planning to spend it at the spa and then, providing that the weather cooperated, they wanted to check out the city’s Christmas tree and do some holiday shopping.
They always had a good time together. BettyAnn was a simple woman, no nonsense, tough, yet loving and fiercely protective of her boys, and very close to them. She and Claire almost instantly developed a good rapport, and BettyAnn was always extremely upset whenever things didn’t go well between Caleb and Claire.
They were eating exotic fruit salad and danish, and drank coffee.
Claire glanced at her hand and shook her head,
“My G-d, maybe I am just being silly, but this is just about the prettiest ring I’ve ever seen!”
“Caleb did good with the ring,” smiled BettyAnn.
“I think it’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“Do you like how he proposed? You know how he is…not all pomp and circumstance.”
Claire smiled and said,
“I think it was perfect. For us, it was perfect. I couldn’t think of anything better.”
“Oh, I am glad honey.”
BettyAnn sipped her coffee and then slowly whispered,
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Oh-oh…would I want to know it?”
“It’s nothing bad…Just don’t tell Tony that I told you.”
“I promise,” said Claire, intrigued.
“This ring, you see…well, Tony’s had it for a long time now…”
Claire’s blow furred,
“What do you mean?”
“Oh…” BettyAnn sighed, “just don’t say anything to him. Well, Tony’s fallen for you from the get go. But you know how he is, always…questioning and unsure. But about you, he was absolutely sure, right away. There was never any doubt in his mind that you are the one for him. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone though, not to Nate, or to Chris. Maybe not even to himself—but he knew. He knew.
“You’ve only been together for a little bit then, and you broke up. Remember? The first time?”
“Yes, I remember. We were both very stupid.”
“Oh, that’s how the young are. Always rash. But you broke up and they were in Europe that fall and winter. So when he came back for Christmas, he was feeling very low. He didn’t know if he’d see you again, or if you had someone else. One day, he and I went for a walk. He isn’t much of a talker, but he opened up a little bit and told me that he was in love with you and that he was missing you terribly. And then he took this little box out and opened it. I thought that it was a gift me, but then he showed me this ring. He said that he bought it, in Spain, and that it was for you, and that one day, he’d ask you to marry him with this ring.
“He’s been carrying it around for a long time, you see.”
Claire was shocked. She wiped her tears. BettyAnn smiled and stroked her hand.
“I am glad that he found you. He is hard to make happy, and I think that you are the only one who does and who can. It’s so good that you’ve taken a chance on him…”
“I love him, BettyAnn,” admitted Claire. “I’ve never loved anybody besides him. I don’t think I ever will, or even can,” she frowned, considering the possibility.
“I am just happy that you’ll be in the family. It seems…right, somehow.”

Right before Christmas, Caleb was acting mysterious, leaving for “appointments”, and not offering adequate explanations of what he was doing. Claire was busy with Christmas shopping, and planning a trip to Cabo for the New Year’s celebration.
“Let’s go to dinner,” he proposed.
She was busy wrapping gifts and it was snowing outside.
“We can just make some pasta…” she proposed.
“Nah…let’s go look at the tree, and then we’ll get some dinner.”
Caleb stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets as usual and she smiled, whispering, “G-d, you are cute.”
He laughed and said,
“Thanks, I guess. Since I am so cute, can we go to dinner?”
“All right.”
She got up, threw on a sweater and they were out of the house in a couple of minutes. It was blustery and he pulled a knitted hat over her head.
“Don’t catch a cold.”
They got into his truck and he drove.
“You know, the tree is the other way,” she pointed out, when he had missed a turn.
“Yeah, I know…we have a stop to make before.”
He took the freeway, and they drove towards downtown.
“Loser’s? Now?” she asked with some annoyance. “You got me out of the house for Loser’s?”
“Quit moaning, will you?”
But his favourite bar wasn’t the final destination.
They drove just a couple of blocks further, and he parked.
‘What’s here?”
He took off his scarf and wrapped it around her head.
“Now what? Another surprise?”
He took her by the arm and said, “Just follow me.”
They walked a bit. He told her when to be careful, when to watch out for the curb or the steps. From the coldness of the outside, they soon entered a warm building.
“Hello Mr. Followill,” said someone. “A surprise I see.”
They went up and down, then in an elevator.
“I am getting dizzy,’ she complained.
“Almost there.”
They finally stopped and she heard him do something. Open a door? She couldn’t tell for sure.
“Here we go,” he whispered and then took her arm and put it over his neck.
In the next moment, she was airborne, as he lifted her off the floor and picked her up.
“You can take the scarf off.”
She tore the scarf from her eyes and watched him carry her over the doorstep of some apartment. It was dark inside.
He kissed her and then said,
“Flip the switch. Right there, on the left.”
She turned on the light and he sat her down on the floor.
“Home sweet home!” he announced.
“What is this?” she cried.
They were in a very vast, new, beautiful condominium.
“The new place that I promised us,” he explained.
“Wow! Beautiful!” she marvelled, walking from room to room. It was open and spacious, with soothing pleasant colours on the walls, and great wood floors. The large windows overlooked the cityscape.
He was following her, hands in pockets, smiling at her reaction.
“I like it!” she announced.
“It’s pretty good…I mean, I won’t lie, I’d prefer a real house, with a backyard and all, but this will do for now.”
“Walking distance to Loser’s,” she noted.
“Hey, that was the idea…”
“I asked them to leave the furniture here,” he shrugged, “I am not anticipating spending all that much time here, so whatever…You are free to change anything you want, of course. But this was the display furniture—brand new and nice looking, so I figured that they can just leave it here.”
The place had a wonderful kitchen, designed, she was sure, according to Caleb’s specifications. That’s the only room that he cared about.
“So, you approve?”
“Yes! I like it a lot. And the view is amazing. And this bathroom!” she squeaked, “I love it.”
Caleb took off his jacket and followed her to the bedroom,
“Can I take your coat? You know, you can relax, stay a while.”
She turned around and hugged him,
“This is a beautiful place.”
“I wanted to have Christmas dinner here, for the family. Think we can manage a tree and put up decorations in time?”
“Yes, let’s do it! I’ll bring in reinforcements for the decorations.”
“Cool. I am going to go start dinner, and you can make yourself comfortable.”
In the kitchen, Caleb popped a bottle of champagne and poured them two flutes.
“So…to our first home together?” he said.
“Oh, yes…It is, isn’t it?”
They each emptied their flutes and he topped them off, before saying, “it is. Here,” he pushed a stack of papers towards her. “Get busy signing.”
“What is it?”
“Paperwork, for the house.”
She sat down on the bar stool by the kitchen counter.
Caleb was rummaging in the fridge.
“Fish or steak?”
“Ummm…I don’t know, either one is fine.”
She leafed through the thick wad of papers.
“Caleb, are you…sure?” she asked, a bit uncertainly.
“About what?”
“You know..this? the house? I mean,”
“Claire,” he interrupted, “just sign please.”
He salted the two Sea Bass fillets.
“Caleb,”
“Claire,” he interrupted again, more firmly this time, “you are going to be my wife. You are going to be the mother of our children…You have been…that,” his voice broke. “There is really no point in us having these discussions,” he shrugged. “After all this time, I kind of know that you are not using me for my money, or anything. Please, just sign.
“And before you start protesting,” he added, “we are not having any prenups either.”
“Oh boy. In 25 years, you are going to regret that,” she shook her head, “when it will be time for a trade in, for a new, hot, beautiful model.”
“Yeah, well…I might bang a hot beautiful model on a side, but I am not trading in.”
“Oh, comforting to know.”
She began signing the papers.
They had a wonderful first dinner in their new condo.
Sea Bass, creamed spinach and two bottles of champagne later, Claire settled on the sofa and watched Caleb get a bottle of wine and look for a bottle opener. Of course, it was nowhere to be found.
“Ah, I come prepared!” he finally exclaimed and took out a pocket knife, which had a bottle opener hidden in its many folds.
“You are very industrious, my love.”
“Of course!”
“Especially when it comes to booze. My G-d, it’s only the two of us, and we are on our third bottle already!”
“One of the beauties of being a Followill.”
“Can I ask you a few questions?” she asked, smiling at his enthusiasm for the bottle opener.
He wrinkled his nose and inquired cautiously,
“What kind of questions?”
“Ohhh, the kind that a wife ought to know about her husband.”
“Mmmm-no.”
“No?”
“Nah, I’d rather you didn’t.”
She laughed,
“Why? You don’t even know what I am going to ask.”
“Something sexual, I am sure!”
“Maybe, maybe not. You won’t know if I don’t ask.”
He poured them both wine and then moaned,
“All right…fine. What do you want to know? If I don’t like the question, I am not answering it!”
“No, that’s not fair!”
“Too bad.”
She was pouting. He brought the wine to her and drew his fingers through her hair.
“Fine. Ask.”
He was nervous, so he didn’t sit down.
“How old were you when you had sex the first time?”
He thought, seriously, for a moment, and then said,
“Almost 17, I think. It wasn’t anything amazing. I was nervous, drunk and it lasted all of—I don’t know—three minutes?”
Claire laughed.
“Good thing you got better since then.”
“Yeah, I guess…A little. See, I knew they were gonna be sexual questions! Why do you want to even know?”
“Because I want to know! Now…have you ever had sex with Kate Moss?”
He laughed.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, you’ve always been very coy about it.”
“Nate had sex with her too.”
“Ewww…”
“Why ewww? She was Kate Moss, we were like 21, and she was giving out the goods.”
“Craziest thing you’ve done?”
“Ummm, no,” he shook his head, “not gonna tell you.”
“Come on!”
“NO!”
“Fine, okay. We are un-engaged.”
She shrugged.
Caleb loved it when she was upset and sort of liked winding her up a bit, just to see the temper flare.
“That’s it?” he inquired, “that’s all it took?”
“Yes,” she folded her arms on her chest and turned away.
“All right then,” he sighed. “I suppose it was good while it lasted…”
“You suppose?”
“I suppose. Can I have the ring back then?”
“What? No way! The ring is mine.”
“But since we are un-engaged—or is it disengaged?—I think I should have the ring back.”
“You can also go to hell,” she proposed pacifically. “Because you are not getting the ring back.”
“Wonderful. How about this place?”
“No, it’s also mine. You can move to your farm and sit there.”
He tried to hide his laughter, but it was difficult.
“Okay…okay…Well, since I don’t want to be un-engaged, can I offer a compromise?” he suggested.
“What compromise?” she asked dryly.
“I’ll tell you what was one of the crazier things that I was offered to do, and that I didn’t do,” he said.
“What is it?”
He scratched his chin and said,
“I think it was maybe 2004 or 2005, and we were in England and this dude approached me after a concert. So he made me an offer he thought I couldn’t refuse. He wanted me to fuck his wife on her birthday. It was his “gift” to her…” he shook his head in disbelief.
“I take it you didn’t oblige?”
“Hell no! I aint gonna be fucking some dude’s wife! I am not a mimbo!”
She laughed.
“I thought that that was pretty fucking weird,” he was still shaking his head. Then he asked, “So are we back to being engaged?”
“No…I am not sure yet.”
“Okay, I’ll try harder.”
“Next question. Have you ever had an STD?”
“Pfff,” he took a sip of his wine and shook his head. “Not me.”
“No?”
“Everyone else did though. Nothing incurable, thankfully. I dodged the bullet.”
“How?”
“I was always obsessed with rubbers. In the beginning, when we started out, I really, really, really didn’t want to make some girl pregnant and then have all my band dreams go to shit, because I had to get a real job and support the kid. It just was out of the question. So I mean, I literally wouldn’t have minded double-wrapping!”
Claire laughed out loud. He chuckled.
“Then, things started to get crazy—the number of women increased, and I became cautious, especially when some of the guys started to get some funk down there. So I always used protection. And then…well, then I met you.”
“Haha, and what, you feared you’d get something from me?”
“No! I feared I’d give something to you!”
He didn’t like being vulnerable, so he turned away. Claire got up from the sofa and padded quietly behind him. She wrapped her arms around his torso and kissed the back of his head.
“I love you,” she murmured.
He rubbed her arm and said,
“NO, I love you.”
“I know.”
“It was just never the same for me, with anyone, after I’ve been with you. Kind of like going to Balthazar or Elaine’s for every meal, and then suddenly have to go to McDonald’s or something…It just aint the same.”
“After all the women, and you think that that I am Balthazar?” she was amused.
He turned to her and shrugged.
“What can I say? You do the body good.”
“Can I have one last question?”
“Okay, I suppose…”
“How many? Women?”
“Hon, that I can’t answer…I just have no idea,” he opened his arms, at a loss, “even if I wanted to tell you—and I don’t—I couldn’t.”
“How can you not know?!” she exclaimed.
“I seriously don’t. A few hundred, I guess. Maybe upwards of three or four hundred…”
“Wah…wow…”
“I am sorry. It might be less.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to lower the number. I can deal with it.”
He kissed her warmly,
“Please, no more questions.”
“All right. I promise,” she smiled. “Thanks for indulging my curiosity.”
“Well, are we back to being engaged?”
“Yes, now we are,” she allowed.
“Very good.”
“And you can ask me the same questions, if you wish.”
Caleb burst out laughing.
“Oh, I can?”
“If you want to,” she nodded.
“Can I guess the answers?”
“If you want to. Try.”
“I’ll give it a try. You lost your virginity at 20, under a weeping willow. How am I doing?”
“Lucky guess.”
“All righty…STDs—you don’t have any. And I don’t think that you’ve had sex with Kate Moss.”
She made a face.
“You are correct. I have taste.”
“Okay, I am doing pretty good here! Next—craziest thing you’ve done? Hmmm, that’s harder. You are kind of crazy, so the possibilities are vast.
“Let’s see. Making the young and innocent me have anal with you, outside, just a few feet away from my cousins and brother—that’s pretty crazy.”
Claire blushed. He grinned at her.
“How am I doing now?” he asked.
“Young and innocent you,” she repeated, “of course. Sorry for corrupting a preacher’s son. ”
“I know! But then, I should’ve expected it. I mean you sleep with rock stars of questionable reputation!”
“That is true,” she agreed sombrely. “I do. But you didn’t complain…ever…about any kind of anal, inside or outside. Come to think of it, you’ve never complained about anything…”
“Well, I am also not entirely crazy. And I know what’s good for me. It might be a while before you hear me say “what? Anal AGAIN?”.”
Claire was shaking with laughter in his arms.
“You also have had sex in some odd places,” he began to count on his fingers, “outside…on the plane…on a balcony…in a boat…oh, you gave head, while driving,”
“Well, I wasn’t giving head and driving! I was just giving head to the driver,”
“True, but still…”
“Oh, you know, that “Sexy Fire” song?” she snapped her fingers.
He frowned,
“Oh, yeah, I think I heard of it,”
“So the singer—I don’t know, some drunk redneck dude from Tennessee,”
“Is he?” he grimaced, “white trash!”
“Oh, totally. So you know, in that song, he sings about getting head while driving. You know what he said about it—that it’s not based on real-life experience! Can you believe it?!”
“Man, what a liar!”
“Exactly,” she nodded.
Caleb’s arms squeezed her tighter and he pushed her towards the sofa, burying his face in her neck and blowing and salivating over her shoulder. She was laughing, “awww, stop, stop! Gross!”
“Not as gross as the things I am going to do to you right now,” he growled.
At last, she fell flat on the sofa. He stretched over her and bit her nose.
“Oh,” he added, “and the number of men you’ve been with—I am guessing all of one!”

Claire hated missing the Grammy’s. She had even agreed to attend with Caleb. She knew that it would probably get her face in papers and start speculations, but the band was nominated for four awards and there was strong indication that they would win. Caleb also wanted her to come along. She was excited to go and see such an array of celebrities, and even had a dress picked out, which Caleb absolutely loved. And then, the record company requested that she fly to England.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” cried Caleb, throwing his hands in the air.
“I am sorry,” she really was.
“This is really annoying,” he was shaking his head. “They can’t send someone else?”
“It’s kind of a big deal,” she said.
“For who? You? Them?”
“Everyone…”
“Good to know. I am glad that I am not a “big deal”.”
“Caleb, don’t be like that,”
He shrugged.
“Go wherever you need to go, Claire. I am not the one to stop you.”
They didn’t part on very good terms.

“Sometimes, it seems to me that you don’t get the simplest things!”
Claire immediately recognized Lily’s voice. It was sounding high pitched and annoyed.
“I don’t see why I should be discussing my relationship with you?” snapped Caleb in return.
Clare stood, listening.
She had re-arranged some things on her schedule, didn’t sleep for 19 hours straight, caught a red-eye to LA from Heathrow, and missed the actual ceremony, but by golly, she was here.
She knew that Caleb would’ve moved heaven and earth to be there for her, if she was in the same position, so she figured that she’d have to do the same. She was tired, but she was ready to party. He texted her throughout the night, and the final text said that they had won three Grammys and that he was going to get changed at the hotel and then would be going to a party. She didn’t tell him that she was coming, wanting to surprise him. A car picked her up and she ordered them to go straight to the hotel. She needed to shower and change first, and then meet up with the guys. As soon as she opened the door, she heard Lily’s voice. Both Lily and Caleb were in the bedroom. Claire set her bag on the floor and stopped to listen.
“All I am saying is that you are living in the past,” said Lily, her tone softer now, more meowing. She always began to coddle him, whenever he turned stern with her.
“I don’t even understand what that means,” he said.
“Honey, you’ve changed…Relationships need to change accordingly.”
“Lily, don’t “honey” me. It makes it weird, like we are a boyfriend and girlfriend. Claire calls me that.”
There was a movement, shadows flickered, steps.
“But I’d like to be boyfriend and girlfriend, and call you “honey”,” purred Lily.
“Yeah, well…” mumbled Caleb.
Silence.
“I just think that being with her doesn’t do you any favors,” finally said Lily, her tone now more metallic. Her attentions have been rebuffed.
“What favors do I need?”
“You’ve been with her…what? Four years? FOUR years? That’s a long time!”
“So, what’s your point? I like being with her.”
“You’ve changed Caleb! You are a huge star now. You are fronting one of the biggest bands in the world. Don’t you see that?”
“So? I still don’t get what your point is?”
“A normal man doesn’t start with Kate Moss and then moves on to someone girl from Nashville! He starts with a local girl and moves on to bigger and better things!” Lily was almost shouting. She was frustrated. “Everything about your life’s changed, except for your girlfriend! You’ve changed, your music’s changed, your importance’s changed. She is still the same. It’s all about Claire! Instead of supporting you every step of the way, being here for you, she does whatever she wants. And you let her!”
“You make no sense,” he protested, a little unsure.
“I do make perfect sense! Where is she now? It’s your big night—my G-d, you’ve won three Grammys! Well, Claire is nowhere to be found. She is in London, doing her thing with Eric Clapton, or is it Robert Plant? Not being here, at your side, congratulating you!”
Lily was pacing the room.
Claire stepped back in the shadows, her hand on the door handle.
“I can’t prevent her from working,” reasoned Caleb.
“She shouldn’t be working, when she has you,”
“You work,” he reminded her.
“Which brings me to my next point.”
“More points?”
“Yes! With all due respect—I know, you are in love with Claire, and think that she is terribly classy, has good taste and went to a fancy university, and now has a very lucrative and exciting job—but in reality, nobody knows anything about her! Who is she? Why would you be with someone like that?
“She adds nothing to your stature! She doesn’t even let her picture taken and avoids being on camera at all costs—which I might add is a little weird,”
“It’s not weird,” he interrupted, ‘that was our agreement from day one. She isn’t interested in any trappings of fame and this life. And I, by the way, admire that! She isn’t hogging the spotlight, despite my popularity, and never changed her preferences.”
Lily knew that she had to tread carefully.
Caleb was on a roll,
“And by the way, you, on the other, have exploited my popularity pretty well! And for that, you ought to be thankful to her! Because she allowed you to be the “official” face of the relationship, and you greatly benefited from it. Listen, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind it—I am glad that you’ve become a much bigger model than when we first met. You’ve been smart about your career and your exposure. But don’t bring Claire into this. I think she’s been very gracious with the whole arrangement.”
He sat down.
There was a pause.
“Can you get me a beer?” he asked.
“Get your own beer,” snapped Lily. “I am not your servant.”
He got up. Claire heard the cap pop open.
“Lily, you can think what you want of her—that she is some anti-social dope or something. Truth is, she played the game perfectly.
“She got exactly what she wanted in life—she didn’t give up any of her dreams, like Johanna or Alisa. She finished her “fancy” university, as you call it. She’s got an awesome job. She is making contacts right and left. She is set for life—financially, she is set, career-wise she is set, and she’s got me. So what if she doesn’t have her face plastered on billboards? I don’t think she ever wanted that. She’s travelled the world, has had a very nice life so far, went to finest restaurants, stayed at the best hotels, met the most interesting people. Most people had to work a lot harder to achieve that!”
“Of course, how can the holy Claire make any mistakes?” snarled Lily bitterly.
“She’s made mistakes, I am sure. She just didn’t compromise her own life for the sake of mine. Look at Alisa, she even got Jared to propose to her, and still couldn’t keep him—now what’s become of her? Doing commercials on Telemundo…Boo hoo.”
“If you were smart, you’d understand that having a Victoria’s Secret model would be a lot more beneficial to you and your image. But you don’t understand that apparently.”
“I do,” his voice turned teasing, “that’s why I am with you. And people think that I have a VS model as a girlfriend.”
“Go screw yourself!”
“You are all hysterical,” he drawled. “What the fuck?”
“What the fuck? The fuck is that I need more! I am not in the mood to be a fake girlfriend to you! Sooner or later you’ll have to make a decision!”
“Listen, I am not preventing you from getting a boyfriend. That’s cool. But I think that I’ve made the decision a long time ago.
“Anyway—I want to enjoy my Grammy win. I told my mom I am going to get her drunk tonight.”
Claire stepped out of the room and quietly closed the door.
She waited in the hallway and then with much fanfare opened the door again, and burst in the suite.
“Honey, are you here?” she called out.
“Claire,” he rushed to the living room, a wide smile on his face, “girl, what are you doing here?”
“Surprising you!” she exclaimed.
Lily waddled silently behind him, skulking.
Caleb cried,
“Did you see? Three! Dude, three! I didn’t expect it!”
She hugged him tightly, and pretended to just notice Lily.
“Oh, hi. Didn’t expect you to find here! Are you coming to the parties?”
“No,” said Lily, “I am fine. I have made my appearance.”
“Thanks for that!” Claire smiled.
“How was London?” asked Lily politely, not really caring.
“Good! Didn’t get to do much other than work stuff, but did pick up my winner something…”
“Ahhhh, I get presents?” he grinned happily.
“You get presents!”
“See you around,” said Lily, grabbed her bag and left the room.
Once she left, Caleb drew Claire closer in his arms and kissed her.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” he admitted.
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” she stroked his cheek. “And you look hot as fuck.”
He burst out laughing at the unexpected compliment.
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Man, the suit works!” she exclaimed. “I like it!”
“You must be totally jetlagged!”
“Nah…I’ll be all right. I am just going to change and we can go.”
He was beaming.
Her coming here was a most pleasant surprise, on top of many of tonight’s surprises.
He sat in a chair and watched her pull off her sweater and unzip her jeans.
“So we are getting BettyAnn wasted tonight?” she asked.
He nodded eagerly,
“Hell yeah! She deserves it.”

Matt calling wasn’t an every day occurrence.
“Hi, it’s Matt.”
Claire knew who it was, but he always insisted on introducing himself, as if they had just met the other day.
It was February.
The days were bright and cold.
Nashville wasn’t exactly hopping with activity, but it was a good time to put some personal touches on the condo, as well as make some preliminary decisions and inquiries about the wedding. Claire’s mother and BettyAnn were both eager to go wedding gown shopping, but Claire had a pretty good idea of what kind of dress she wanted and she was planning to have it custom made for her. But the mothers still needed dresses and involvement, so she was going to go and meet with them and then a wedding planner.
“How are you? How’s Jo?” she asked politely.
“Good. How’s the new place?”
“Good. Working on it.”
“Is Caleb there?”
“No. Sorry. He is actually grocery shopping. You can probably catch him on his phone—he is at Whole Foods.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you,” said Matt.
“Oh,” she was surprised, “all right. What’s up?”
“Has he discussed the new album with you?”
She thought about and said,
“Ummm, not really. I mean a bit. I know he is writing songs. We’ve been doing some weird things, to get him inspired.”
“Oh, the gay bar?”
“No, the lesbian bar!” she laughed. “Where I was being picked up by a bunch of lesbian gals. And where they thought that he was my gay friend.”
Matt was laughing.
“He told me about it. I still don’t get what the hell it was about, but all right…Whatever gets him inspired, I guess.”
“Pfff, mostly, it’s just sitting at the bar. He doesn’t require much. Anyway, what’s up?”
“So, has he told you anything about where he wants to record it?”
“No…not really. I just assumed that it would be here, at Blackbird.”
“Yeah, so did I,” Matt’s voice sounded edgy. He was annoyed. “Apparently, they really want to go to NYC.”
“NYC?” that was the first time she’s heard of it. “Why there?”
“Well, according to Caleb, and to Nathan, who always agrees with him, it will “shake things up”, and we won’t fall into a slump…Sophomore slump, as they call it.”
“But this is ridiculous. It’s your fifth album! What sophomore slump?”
“Listen, I don’t even know what’s going on. Caleb is stuck on writing country songs. I don’t want this thing to be a fucking flop, because it seems like he wants to sabotage it on purpose, because he is all freaked out about “selling out” and fame and all that stuff.
“Well, what the fuck? If he wants to be in a rock band, you want to go up, not down. Not be some one hit wonder!” Matt was getting agitated.
“All right, but why NYC?” she insisted.
“You tell me! I seriously do not want to go there. I don’t want to be stuck in a studio for 3 months, in that concrete hellhole. It’s the worst place ever! Nice to visit for like 4 days, but to live there?”
“Okay, okay,” she was thinking. He interrupted,
“They feel that it’s “edgy” or something. It’s pissing me off. Listen, Jo and I, we wanna try to have a kid. I seriously don’t want to try in freakin’ New York! And Jo doesn’t know anyone there. Neither do you, I am guessing?”
“No, I don’t know anyone there,” she admitted. “I mean I went to Northwestern, which is in Chicago. And I know Chicago well,”
“Chicago would be awesome!” agreed Matt.
“Maybe I’ll try to propose Chicago?”
“I don’t know if he will listen.”
“What about Jared?”
“Jared is on the fence. He wants to go there, so he could go clubbing and stuff,”
“Yeah, it’s a shame that Jackie broke it off with him. She was good for him.”
“I liked Jackie,” admitted Matt.
“Yeah, me too. Now he is with that gal Amber,”
“And that’s another thing—he is gonna fuck it up with Amber now!” fumed Matt. “Amber is very nice. She has this crazy sense of humor, and she keep Jared interested…Now in New York, you think he is gonna be faithful to her?”
“Unless she comes with,” proposed Claire. “All right—I’ll try to talk to Caleb. Not sure how much good it would do, especially if he is set on this.”
“Turn on the waterworks,” suggested Matt.
She chuckled.
“I’ll do my best.”

Caleb and Claire didn’t fight often, and it was an awkward experience for both of them.
He wasn’t much of a screamer, and it was an odd thing for him to raise his voice at her. He certainly couldn’t bring himself to call her names, or curse at her.
“I think you are being unreasonable!” he kept on repeating. “It’s just for maybe two-three months!”
“But if it’s for two-three months, why can’t you do it here? Or if it must be done in a big city, which is still an odd notion, why not Chicago?”
“We’ll consider Chicago.”
“I don’t even believe you! You’ll go to that G-d damned New York! And that’s it.”
“It will be just like home—we’ll get an apartment,”
“What apartment?”
“We’ll buy a place there,”
“Buy a place?” she cried. “Are you crazy? It’s easily 1-2 million to buy a place there! Or do you want to live in Queens?”
“I have 1-2 million,” he reminded her.
“I don’t care! It’s not the point. It’s wasteful and unnecessary! Seriously, have you like hit your head on something?
“Listen,” Caleb tried to hug her, but she threw his arms off her shoulders. “We are going,”
“No, you are going,”
“You won’t come with me?”
She shrugged,
“No, Caleb. You keep forgetting that I have a life here. You can’t just decide for both of us—“oh, we are going to New York!”. Not only do I not want to, I also can’t. You need to remember that it’s not just you anymore. It’s also me. I don’t mind going by what you say, but I won’t accommodate your every whim. If it doesn’t work for you…well,”
“Ugh,” he interrupted impatiently, “let’s not even go there! I am not planning to fucking break up with you over something so stupid! This is too stupid to discuss!” he waved his hand.
She shrugged.
“I dont know. I mean, you are ready to plunk down a million! Without even asking me? You’ve made all these decisions without bothering to consult me. How can you do that?”
He stood silent and shamefaced.
“I didnt think it would be such a big deal,” he mumbled at last.
“No, of course not,” she nodded. “You snap your fingers and people come a-running. You expect the same of me.
“Well, I guess I’ll visit on weekends.”
“It’s just ridiculous,” he was pacing the room, “Jessie will be there,”
“Jessie is from Jersey!” she reminded him. “Jessie hops on the ferry, and she is at mom and dad’s! And she hangs out at her home, and with her friends.”
“Okay, maybe, but,”
“No buts—I am not going to live like some kept woman. You’ll be in the studio, probably most of the day, and what am I going to do?
“For two-three months I’d have to turn my life upside down, and quit my job for that as well?”
He didn’t respond..
He knew that it was unfair to demand all of this from her.
She was right. She didn’t know a living soul in NYC, except for Jessie. Johanna already said that she won’t be moving, and would be mostly staying in LA. He and the guys would be in the studio. She wouldn’t have anything to do with herself. And she was excellent, as well as successful in her position—it would be ludicrous to require her to quit the job she loved just for this.
Matt was mad as well about this, completely against going there. Everyone was arguing.
Jared was pissed too. He wasn’t sure how he’d fare there, but Jared was young, a rock star, rich as fuck, and handsome. He’d find plenty of entertainment in the city that never sleeps. Caleb wasn’t concerned about Jared.

In March, the band left for NYC.
Caleb bought an apartment in the West Village. It was nice, but Claire was correct—it wasn’t home. She was indifferent towards it.
The recording process was not his favorite. The studio was located in some windowless building, and the whole experience was just like going to the office in the morning and leaving to go home at night. He was stuck in a small, dark sound booth for most days, and by the time they left the studio, it was already dark outside. He hardly saw any sunlight.
The only person having a good time was Jared. He was letting loose in clubs, sometimes arriving to the studio without having slept the night before.
Caleb didn’t do a whole lot. He met up with Lily a few times, for drinks and for dinner, since she was in town from her modeling assignments. Otherwise, he spent most of his free time eating alone in neighborhood restaurants, or playing pool in bars. It wasn’t super exciting. Sometimes, Nathan and Jessie invited him over for dinner. The only thing he was looking forward to was Claire coming on Friday evenings, and staying till Monday mornings. That was the time when he relaxed, ate well, took walks, explored the city, went to listen to music and did other pleasant things. He lived.
Matt hasn’t gone out once in two months, and only emerged to come for dinner when Claire was in town. He couldn’t wait to leave.
Most tracks were laid down, though Caleb wasn’t happy with all songs. His favorites were voted down, and didn’t make the album at all. He was bummed out about that. He was still working on a few songs and lyrics, but they would have to be recorded later on. Overall, he was pretty happy with the album, but he wasn’t blown away. It was missing something. Claire hadn’t heard most of it, and what she did hear, she was complimentary about, but not thrilled. He kept trying to understand what it was missing. “Southerness,” she told him, “and dirt.” Maybe she was correct. He’d have to figure thing out later. The tour was about to start.

Bonnaroo.
Claire’s memories of the gigantic festival were fuzzy. The previous time she was here, in ‘07, was sort of soaked in alcohol and marred by drugs. It was a free for all, and the entire band, plus Pa Followill, as well as pretty much everyone in their circle went on an epic bender. Uppers, downers, acid, ecstasy—you name it, they took it. However, in their defense, they stayed away from the hard stuff. That year, Claire decided to go for it and try a few things. The stuff made her delusional and then sick, so she spent a lot of the time in the trailer, nursing some kind of a hangover. The only thing she remembered was going to the VIP section for The Police performance. It was Caleb’s idea, not hers. She was never much into the 80s New Wave shtick, especially not like Jared. Naturally, Caleb decided to drop acid right before the show, and after about 20 minutes, he started freaking out and seeing devils. But, escape was impossible. Sting’s handlers and crew did not let anyone in or out of the VIP section. Needless to say, it was not the best experience for anyone.
“First time we played here, was in 04,” he said. “it was the noon slot,” he laughed. “We had no idea if anyone would even show up. Bonnaroo was pretty new back then to begin with, and then all of 26 people knew us in America, including mom! So it was weird when we came out, in that tent,” he pointed to one of the tents, “and literally, I am not kidding you, it was packed! Our jaws dropped. It was awesome.
“And then of course the performance of “Trani”…kind of went down as the big one.”
“It was the Big one,” said Claire.
“I don’t even remember it, to be honest,” he shrugged. “but when you go into something, how do you know that it will become legendary? It was just a concert for us. A 12pm slot. And we messed up on the song too, at the end, and I was pissed.”
“Nobody noticed it. Nobody still notices.”
“Yeah, I know. I just remember it was so fucking hot. I was dripping with sweat, and Jared was about to pass out the entire time.
“It was seriously torturous. The heat. And then also they were filming this movie, which actually never came to be—but it was about Bonnaroo and a bunch of performers who were participating that year. So I was trying to make sure that the concert went well, but it seemed to me like a total mess.”
He laughed.
“I do remember the little Chinese kid, who was sitting on his dad’s shoulders the whole time. He was totally digging the whole thing—you can see him for a second during “Trani”. He was kind of dancing along and clapping. And I sort of cursed a few times and felt bad, but then I figured, if his parents think that it’s okay for him to be there, then so be it. Who am I to judge? Sometimes, I wonder if he actually became a fan…I mean it’s been what—about six years now? So he is maybe eleven or twelve…Just the time to get into music.”
Their bus was parking.
Caleb was contemplative.
Claire took his hand in hers.
“You okay?”
“I am good.”
He licked his lips and said, with some sadness,
“I guess it’s a shame that we’ll never play like that again. Like our life depended on it. I don’t even know if I have it in me now…”
“I think you do.”
“You are sweet Claire-bear,” he stroked her head, “you always prop me up and tell me nice things. But you know—age…I was what, 22 then? Like Jared now or something. Now I am almost thirty. It’s not the same. I start to feel things a lot more—the hangovers, the fights, the touring. I think if I dislocated my shoulder even now, two years later, I’d have a helluva harder time recovering.”
“Lebby, you are 28. You sound like you are 60. Cheer up, dude.”
He smiled.
The bus parked. They went outside.
The intense, slimy, impossible heat enveloped them right away.
“Oh, this is going to be fun tonight,” he moaned. “I am fucking going to melt on stage!”
“How many songs are you singing?”
“I don’t even know,” he shook his head, “we’ll finalize the set list later today. Something ridiculous—like 27 or some shit like that!”
“27? You WILL melt!” she exclaimed.
“I do have something up my sleeve—a surprise,” he smirked.
“What surprise?”
“Well, I aint telling!”
“Well, why aren’t you telling?”
“’Cos then it aint gonna be a surprise, will it?”
“I don’t want surprise! Tell me,” she pleaded.
He laughed.
“No way.”
“You suck! Tell me!” she demanded.
“Mmmm,” he pretended to think for a moment, and then said, “only if you suck something…”
“Ugh…” she shook her head, exasperated. “I should’ve guessed!”
He was laughing, bent over.
“So?”
“That’s how you blackmail me?” she demanded.
“Of course.”
“What, now? In the parking lot? In front of the roadies?”
“I don’t think that would work…but maybe a little later on…”
“All right, and if I fulfill your unnatural needs, will you tell me what the surprise is?”
He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close to him.
“You don’t have to do anything for me—I’ll tell you anyway.”
She waited.
“I am going to sing you a song.”
“You will? What song is that?”
“Of course nobody knows that it’s just from me for you. Jared thinks we are just doing a cover. But aint nothing describes better…well, I guess how I feel about you…I don’t know,” he became shy.
She pulled his face closer and kissed him. His hair was very short. She cut it for him just before they came here. When she smiled, he murmured “giggling virgin.”
“I’ll sing “Where Is My Mind?” for you,” he finally announced. “I’ve been wanting to sing it forever, but I think that now I am ready.”

The concert was phenomenal. There were people as far as the eye could see.
The band performed some old songs, some very new songs that no one’s ever heard yet, except for the very rabid fans, who were present of course. It was wonderful to see people sing along to “Southbound”, and yet have others wonder if “Trani” was a new song.
Depending on the festival or performance, Claire didn’t always take the comfy place by the side of the stage. Sometimes, it wasn’t even that comfortable, and since she liked to sing along and dance, she felt a little weird among the VIPs, who looked at her funny. Down in the pit, with the fans, it was a cozier and more genuine, if sweatier atmosphere. But if Caleb was sweating, almost fainting from heat on stage, giving 110%, then why should it be otherwise for her? Besides, she really wanted to enjoy the concert to the fullest. It was one of those unforgettable ones, which came only so many times in one’s life, and standing up on the rafters somewhere just didn’t seem very appealing.
She got a great spot, almost right in front of Caleb. It was amazing to simply take in the music and forget for an hour that she was engaged to the lead singer. It was liberating to be in awe. It was incredible to listen to him, hear his remarkable voice, so beautiful in its whiskey-cigarettes-dive bar ferocity. To this day, she couldn’t understand how that sound—completely different from his spoken voice and unfamiliar—came and roared forth from a skinny, young boy. Caleb on stage was always a revelation to her, because he was a different person, and a person she didn’t even know. The mellow, often goofy, cocky, laughing, loving, temperamental Caleb that she knew was not the same Caleb that she saw on stage. And it fascinated her. The freedom allowed her the opportunity to relax and get into the music. He also never looked at her if she was in front of him—she was just another fan. This time however, he did give her a momentary glance, just as they began “Where Is My Mind?”
Claire drunk it all in. She was lucky—the three guys next to her were old fans, who knew every lyric. So they all danced and sang along and got into the performance like crazy. The three guys behind her didn’t fare as well—one kept passing out and his two buddies had no idea what to do with him. They poked her and asked for help.
“Well, did he eat? Drink?” she asked.
She made them give their friend as much water as they all had, and gave up her own bottle for him. She also handed them her half-eaten bag of goldfish crackers, for which they were eternally grateful. It was all just part of the collective experience.
Once the concert was over, she made her way out of the field.
Caleb texted.
“How was it?”
“Amazing” she answered.
“Where you off to?”
“TBK.”
“Ok, I’ll shower and then I m off to see LCD Ss.”
“Have fun. You were incredible. Make sure to drink.”
“Will do mom.”
“You looked like you were gonna pass out there a few times.”
“I sang 25 songs. I am entitled to pass out.”
“Don’t pass out. Just drink and eat something.”
“Ok. Have fun with your boy-toy Dan.”
“Jealous.”
“Whatever.”
She smiled. She’s been raving and ranting about The Black Keys for a long time now, and annoying Caleb with her admiration.
“Well, I am not a bluesman!” he complained.
“Honey, it’s not a competition.”
“Feels like it.”
Another time he muttered unhappily, “Well, I hope that you and Dan are very happy together!”
“How do you know it’s Dan? Maybe I am loving on Pat.”
Caleb made a face and whispered, “Wouldn’t be surprised. You are pretty weird.”
And so on.
Finally, Claire did what she did best—she arranged a collaboration of sorts. The Black Keys were going to open for the Kings later on the tour. Everyone was happy.
The heat didn’t let up. Even though it was midnight, sweat was dripping down her back. It didn’t help that the Black Keys were performing in one of those swell Bonnaroo tents, where it was easily 115F at all times.
She was exhausted by now, but it was a great set and she stayed for the duration of it.
When it was all over, she made her away to the “artists’ camp”, on the other side of the festival grounds. Her feet were killing her. She felt sticky and wet, and was moist in places where moisture wasn’t necessary. She passed by the fountain, and by some of the food stalls, which were still open. High and drunk teens, some naked and covered in body paint, were ambling aimlessly about the grounds. She finally got past the first cordon of security, when she noticed some kind of commotion on the road. She didn’t want to get involved—there were security guards, some mounted on horses, and shouting coming from the group. Suddenly, she overheard,
“Ma’am! Ma’am! We’d like a minute of your time. Your pass, ma’am.”
She frowned, but approached.
“Ask her! Ask her! She knows!”
What sounded like Jared’s voice was coming from the midst of hooves, hides and boots. One of the security people checked her All Access Pass. She finally got to see a golf cart, that the security was surrounding.
“I know what they all look like, and you are not one of them!” shouted one of the guards.
“I am! I just got a haircut!”
It was definitely Jared’s voice. She was sure of it now.
“What is going on here?” she asked.
“This man and his friends pilfered a golf cart!” explained one of the men, “now he says that he is a musician from a headlining band.”
“He says that he knows her!” yelled someone.
“Ma’am,” asked a burly man whose shirt was stained with sweat. “May you assist us in identifying this gentleman.”
“Claire,” screamed Jared.
“You, be quiet!” roughly ordered one of the security men.
“Sure,” she shook her head, “that’s Michael Jared Followill. He is the bass player for Kings of Leon.”
“And you know this how?” demanded someone.
“I am engaged to the front man,” she answered bluntly. “Who happens to be Jared’s brother. Consequently, Jared will be my brother-in-law.”
“So what’s he doing joyriding around the festival grounds in a stolen golf cart?”wondered the sweaty guard. “Without an ID or a pass?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “But you should fine him. He’s got plenty of money.”
The guards smiled widely.
“Thanks Claire-bear!” called out Jared.
“No problem, Jared. Don’t get into trouble.”
And she was on her way.
When finally on the bus, she took an unforgivably indulgent shower, dressed in some kind of thin dress, that was more like a nightgown rather than a dress. She fell asleep almost instantly, undisturbed by the booming music and the heat.
…Caleb walked past her. He was naked and wet from the shower.
She lifted her head.
“Sleep,” he murmured. “Sorry.”
He wiped his brow.
“Wah…it’s hot.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” she sat up.
“It’s like 4:30am,’ he squinted, trying to read his watch in the darkness.
“I know.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I want you to make love to me,” she insisted. “Now, please.”
“Oh, ummm,” he was taken aback a little, but nodded, “all right. That would be my pleasure.”
“And mine,” she smiled and got up.
He grabbed a pair of shorts—Jared’s—and took her by the hand.
“Outside?” she asked.
“We’ll boil alive in here,” he said. “Outside.”
He stepped closer and then kissed her slowly, but hungrily, again and again, his mouth grasping at hers ravenously. Her breasts, full and firm, pressed into his naked, wet chest and the thin material of her nightgown was instantly damp.
He thrust his hand between her legs, feeling the thin skin of her inner thighs, and before he could even touch her there, the warm wetness of her smeared over his fingers, rousing his member instantaneously. They stood for a moment, breathless, looking at each other in the murky darkness. Her chest rose and fell. He flipped the strap of her dress off her shoulder and it slipped down, baring her breast.
He licked his lips. His head was pulsing. He stepped back and his fingertips brushed over her nipple. If he didn’t step back, he feared that he would ravish her. At times, the need was too overwhelming.
But she didn’t care. She leapt into his arms and locked his head within her embrace, licking on his tongue lustily, assaulting all his senses with her closeness, with the tempting, female scent of her. He took them out of the bus—how, he had no idea. It was empty around, but noisy. Music, moaning, laughing. People were doing whatever they were doing all around them.
The two of them stumbled to a bare bit of grass, behind some kind of empty tent. It was marginally private. The sky was still black and the ground was vibrating from the music.
The clothes were off.
She lay on her dress. It wasn’t going to make it past this night. Not a big loss.
He knelt by her. She caught movement, as he touched his own erect member swiftly, preparing it for what was about to do.
But first, kissing. Kissing, with his mouth, his tongue, his skin, over her flesh. A lover, warm and familiar. She moved even closer, his bones on hers, the thick, hot shaft pulsing against her belly. He laid his thigh across her and a glide of wetness came from her slit, making her shudder against him. It was hot all around them, and he was sleek against her skin, warm and wet, just like she was.
His mouth caught her nipple and he pulled it with his tongue, wetting it, warming it, as if there wasn’t enough heat. She held his other hand to her breast, as he squeezed and moulded it, his teeth sharp on her nipple, biting, sucking. She stretched and strained, her womb gasping with its shudder. At last she had him where she wanted him, his muscles hard and ridged with desire, his body over hers, trained not to crush, as she writhed beneath him, impatient.
She flowed like the river. And once he was inside, she was flooded. Seemed that not only his member was in her, but his very bones, his blood, his pulse. He slid hard and far, and plaint, satisfied, she took him in. Sweat bathed her, not just the body, not just the furnace of her breath, but even on her lips she felt the salty moisture. Her fingers dug into his flesh, painfully, no doubt, but who could stop her now? He kissed the sweat away, opening her mouth with his tongue, adjusting inside of her, making himself at home, settling in. She loved it. Her eyes closed. Pleasure. She stroked his wet forehead, feeling him reach further into her, and she cried long and it sounded more like a howl. Their bellies knotted together, the loins fusing, and he plunged so far that there was no way to go further. Her womb pulsated against him, pulled and twitched, and somewhere, she heard her own cry which was muffled by his lips.
He worked her into a frenzy of need, circling, teasing, slow at first, then harder, pushing in and out of her wet center, his mouth on her nipple, tugging on it, making her wail. His hand slipped under her back and he guided her against him, her womb a great, shivering yawn against the engorged thickness of his member. It was a bright and fierce thing between the two of them, the ripples of lust rushing over them, through their skin, reaching their mouths. He drove hard, gripping her hips, buttocks, and he was hot and strong, and the rhythm of his pushing drove her into the hard ground, bruising her, yet filling her belly with everlasting joy. He cried out, biting her neck and jaw, and he seemed very big to her right now, overwhelming, awesome. He whispered, “you are most beautiful” and it was like a vow. And in all that confusion of love and longing and desire, she felt only one thing—that he was hers, forever, if only for a moment. Caleb, her life’s desire.
He lay deep, unmoving, swimming in her delicious wetness , a smile on his lips, his face blissful.
She touched herself, he was still inside, and she reached between their bodies and felt herself, swollen and filled to the brim. It was beautiful. She lay still, savoring each moment, every heartbeat.
Then he pulled out and lifted her onto her hands and knees and she was open. He crouched behind, kissing, his palm flat on her back, his breath mingling with her hair, and she waited, expectant. This night was for him. He was free to do what he willed. Then a brush of his damp hair over her buttocks and a wide swipe of his tongue over the pink lips of her sex. She trembled and he whispered somewhere between her thighs “like a peach”. The tongue was thick, strong, burying deep inside, exploring, licking, sucking, drinking, and then just as soon as it started, it was over. And he brought his lips to her, and she tasted the jelly of herself on his tongue. His big, hair-covered arm around her breasts, he held her in place, as he slid back in, shockingly hard, scorching her, holding her close. He kissed her, tongue and lips and mouth, and his scent was all over, the musky, manly, sour-sweet goodness of life. All his muscles were hard from this day, and he was heavy behind her, but she accepted the heaviness of him with pleasure. He was savage and lusty this time around, his member coaxing her screams, the thickness of him ramming into the tenderness of her flesh, splattering against the walls of her womb, loving her, his torso enveloping her within its shadow. She bit his arm, the bicep, raked her teeth over his neck, licking, moaning, wanting more. He drove deep. Again, again. “Claire, Claire, Claire,” like a chant in her ear. Words of love mixing with sex. She opened wide as she shaft sank deeply into her. He was breathing fast and hard. His hands relished in touching her, back and front, breasts and thighs and hips, and over her bottom, and then fingertips over her lips and cheeks. He was everywhere at once. “Open,” he murmured, “open for me…” Her hips were jerking, dancing, as she tumbled into a pool of pleasure, held up only by his strong grip, her fingers digging into his thigh.
Shadows came. The sky was purple and stars were all around them. Falling.
She knew that it would come, and when it did she smiled. He opened her up, gingerly, unnecessarily carefully, even though the push into her rectum wasn’t very careful at all. She gushed with pain…pleasure…pain, pain…joy…pleasure. It was throbbing inside of her, the thick member, as it slipped further in, filling her rapidly, yet cautiously, trying to restrain himself. The satisfaction was almost instant, as she thrust her hips back, onto him, taking him deeper. She was spread wide open, her spine tingling from pleasure, the need to be consumed, to feel the heat of that pole inside of her almost physically painful. She twisted on him, moved and then brought him down, facing him, her thighs gripping his. He caught her face in his palm, pulling it to his lips almost brutally, while she sat slowly back down, inserting his shaft back into her bottom. He bit her lip, groaning, and she knew that her tightness and the strength of her muscles made it impossibly difficult for him to restrain himself. But she plunged lower, slow and steady, kissing him, wrapping him within her arms, holding her face to his neck and pressing her lips to the pulsating vein.
Inexhaustible. Sliding on him, she felt that there was nothing else in the world, only this. Him in her. He kissed inside her mouth, his tongue all over her wet tongue, on her cheeks and over her temples. His hard hands held onto her loins, pressing her down, moving up and down in her, her wetness a puddle on his lap. She was aching, her nipples were swollen, thick as cherries, sucked mercilessly, her anus stretched along his rod, hollowed out by his ceaseless ramming. He pushed her down again, flat on her back and the pebbles and stones and twigs dug into her skin through the material of her dirty dress. He towered over her, riding her like he was in a race. She cried out, for the world to hear, and he gave her his palm to bite and stifle her moaning. “Good?” he muttered. “More,” she urged. Pushing her knees apart, almost to the ground, he propped himself on them, watching every bit of his penetrations with hungry eyes, in the muted light of the rising sun. He pulled out and marveled at his own achievement, taking in the sight of the gaping hole that he created in her. There was something mind-blowing, dominating about this, and it made him feel primal, wild. “More, more,” she begged, all open for his taking, needy, wanting, pleading. Her eyes were glistening, her body covered with a sheen of moisture, and he touched her, intimately, inside her sex, wetting his fingers, then inside her anus, making her moan, making her take his member and urge it back into her rectum. “I want it,” she admitted breathlessly, thrusting her hips on him, unable to wait for him, wanting, wanting more. “That good?” he smiled, his face beautiful, mischievous, his thick fingers twisting her nipples. She watched the two of them, between their bodies, the heavy, thick rod, almost entirely hidden in her, as she bounced compliantly against him. “Please don’t stop,” she begged sweetly, the tips of her fingers brushing over his chest, twisting along the mat of hair, “dear G-d, please more…” He laboured for her pleasure. The roles were set a long time ago. She gave her all when he was in her mouth, sucking for as long as he needed, drinking and sucking, until he was entirely spent, drinking and sucking. And he knew to work tirelessly and thoroughly on her lush, inviting, unimaginably glorious, beautifully needy, insatiable rectum.
After it was over, they lay together for a long time, in silence. Their bodies were flushed and soft, hers slick with the efflux of his semen. She was smiling. Her body was filled with him, saturated, as if she was a vat of his essence. Between her thighs was a swollen tulip, a flower of carnage.

It was hot in NYC. End of July. Seemed that the sidewalks were steaming. Whatever passed for trees in this G-d forsaken city, didn’t offer much by way of shade.
Claire hadn’t seen Caleb since last week, when they met up in Chicago, for his concert.
It was a great concert, especially after the ridiculousness of the pigeon incident and the fallout from all that. Some fans had gone ballistic over the whole thing, jokes ran rampant in newspapers and on TV programs, and the incident even made the CNN ticker. Twitter. Facebooks pages devoted to the pigeon. It was over the top in its insanity. The following day, Caleb was absolutely convinced that someone would hurl bags of human poo on stage. Jared was freaking out. Nothing happened. The Chicago concert went off without a hitch, the audience was happy and accepting and no poop bags were in sight.
“So, when am I going to see you again?” asked Caleb. “There is no end in sight with this tour.”
“Hey, we’ve had seven months off—not bad,” she reminded him.
He rolled his eyes slightly.
“Seven months is hardly seven years…Anyway. Everyone is on tour now, so I guess you can oversee the house a little bit.”
Claire was returning to Nashville after Chicago. She had to work, because those artists who weren’t touring, were working on albums, writing and collaborating, and her services were needed. There was also the matter of the new house, on which the two of them finally started working, and also the matter of the wedding, which would eventually take place. Caleb liked 11/11/11, but it was way too far away, so Claire wanted to see if they could make it work by 10/10/10.
Just yesterday, Claire found out that she would have the weekend free. And the Kings were in NYC, for a concert, and a day off. It worked out well. Instead of meeting at some hotel as usual, as if they were a cheating couple hooking up, at least they’d have two days to be at home, eat home cooked food and be together. She was going to make it a surprise. Caleb would be happy to see her. It always thrilled him to have her arrive unannounced.
She had no luggage other than her purse and a small knapsack, so getting out of the airport was pretty easy. She hailed a cab and was dropped off in West Village in less than 40 min. In the taxi, she kept thinking about tonight’s menu. She was considering making roast chicken, but then the heat was kind of more conducive to seafood. Maybe grilled shrimp? Perhaps a seafood salad, sangria…well, maybe not sangria…or was it more of a paella night? She was still undecided by the time she exited the taxi. All she knew, was that she wanted to make strawberry tiramisu. She hoped that the supermarket itself would direct her towards tonight’s dish—maybe cioppino?—with the available ingredients. Standing on the hot asphalt made her fear that her sandals would melt, so she hurried inside the store.
The scallops looked stunning. She was admiring them behind the glass, waiting for the fishmonger to come out, when she heard,
“Well, what do you want, honey?”
“You pick…”
The first voice might have gone over her head, but not the second. It sounded a bit gruff, but she knew that voice much too well
“But I don’t know…”
“Lily, pick whatever you want. You want tomatoes, let’s do tomatoes.”
Claire left her basket on the floor and quickly escaped to one of the isles. Standing behind the bread shelves, she observed.
Caleb and Lily—she wrapped around his arm like ivy—arrived to the same fish display.
“Wow, look at the scallops,” he pointed them out.
Lily wasn’t interested, but she nodded.
Claire wondered—was it just a friendly dinner? Something more? Something less?
Lily stroked Caleb’s cheek, turned his face to her and kissed him on the lips.
Well, that was somewhat revealing.
He kissed her back, but with the same indifference that he always kissed her with.
He ordered the scallops and while they were being packaged, Lily didn’t move away, still wrapped around him, patient, idling.
“Lil, you want to pick out wine for dinner?” he suggested.
She frowned and answered something.
“I don’t know—maybe Chablis or a Riesling,” he said.
She murmured something again, her lips making contact with his cheek, her hand running down his back.
He kissed her forehead, then got the package of scallops and they were on their way.
Claire stood still.
She waited a good fifteen minutes, maybe even longer, before she moved.
Store employees began to look at her funny.
Hopefully by now, Caleb and Lily were gone.
Claire smiled wistfully.
Was it a coincidence or just some kind of strange bit of inexplicable ways of the world that her relationship should begin and end in a supermarket? By the fish counter?
But now, times were different. This was no Nashville.
Perhaps, if they stayed in Nashville, just as they ought to have, things would’ve been different. They would be in the right place and these unnecessary temptations wouldn’t have entered their lives. But things were such as they were. Caleb wanted to be the biggest. The best. Maybe she didn’t fit the mould of what one of the biggest rock stars in the world needed for a girlfriend. She thought that she did. But perhaps it was meant for rockers to end up with “prestigious”, underwear-modeling girlfriends.
Slowly, she existed the cold supermarket. The heat almost swept her off of her feet. Yep, just like home. But it wasn’t.
She walked down the street, towards the house, but then stopped mid-way and remembered that the house is probably no longer hers and that Lily was there, with Caleb.
Caleb, the love of her life.
She couldn’t even think.
All of this was so unexpected, she literally didn’t even know what or even how to think. Where to begin?
Was he being unfaithful? She didn’t have any proof, but she suspected it to be so. But was it simply the easiest assumption, based on his history and based on what Lily wanted from him? And if he was unfaithful, then it led to even more questions. Was it just sex? Was he feeling lonely, because she wasn’t with him? But if he was, and that’s all it took for him to slip and fall, how could she ever trust him while being married to him? And speaking of marriage—were they still even engaged? And would she still marry him?
She walked slowly, unseen and unseeing. People pushed her. They were rude in NYC and had no qualms about pushing and shoving.
But was it love? Was he in love with Lily? Was he in love with her? He didn’t change his mind quickly, and was steady in his preferences—and of one thing she could be sure, he did love her. He loved her more than he’s ever loved anyone else, therefore, how could it be that he suddenly moved on to another?
Her head was suddenly and instantly hit with horrendous pain.
She actually feared that she was having an aneurysm or some other such brain hemorrhage. Was it possible? Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and struggling not to collapse, she entered a coffee shop. Her hands were shaking. The barista, seeing her enter in the state that she was in, became concerned and asked, “Miss, you okay? Are you dehydrating? Are you diabetic?”
“Yes.”
She had no idea what the girl was saying.
The barista came from behind the counter and said,
“Just sit down. I’ll get you some water. And a cookie.”
Claire sat in the café for hours.
She wasn’t aware of time passing, or of what was happening around her.
She fixated, for some reason, on the thought that July was a cursed month in her life. Last year she had lost her baby in July. Now, she was losing her man.
What she had to come to terms with was that it wasn’t just Caleb. It was her whole life, as she knew it, that she was losing. Where she lived, who she knew, where she went…His brothers…His mom and step-dad. Syd and Nacho. The crew guys. Ivan and Kathy. Tyson. Andy, the tour manager. Jessie. Even Johanna. Chris. The cousins. Grandpa Mary. Grandpa Leon. Aunt Polly. Cleo. All the uncles and aunts.
Four years. It was a long time that she and Caleb were together. Only she and Jessie stuck around for this long. And together they’ve been through thick and thin.
She got used to a lot of things in four years. People, travel, places, hotels, the farm, their condo…She got used to making plans with him for the rest of her life. She expected to have children with him. She expected to live with him in their new, yet to be build home. She expected to go to Jessie and Nate’s kids’ birthday parties with her own children. She expected Caleb to make pancakes in the mornings, and to grill out at night. She expected to have Jared and whoever his new gal pal was—Amber? Erin? Jackie? Ashley? –over for pizza and beer on Friday nights. She expected Christmas with BettyAnn and her own parents, and Thanksgiving at the farmhouse, and the annual road trips to Oklahoma. She envisioned her own sons trying out all the forbidden things, probably with Jared’s help, one summer in Talihina. She expected to watch Caleb become more like Ivan, rotund and probably bearded and aged before his time, and she expected to love him then just as much as she loved him now. Because that is what she loved and that was the life she had to live.
And now?
She had no idea what was going on and where she would be going.
And yet, she had no proof.
Why was she sitting here, going crazy? Nothing’s happened. Okay, so Lily kissed him. Lily always tried to weasel her way into his good graces. He might have just invited her for dinner. He wasn’t exactly very intimate with her. As always in their case, it was Lily who held onto him, not Caleb who held onto Lily. He only ever held on to Claire.
It was getting dark.
She finally got up.
She was feeling a bit better. Utterly confused, frightened, unsure, terrified, unhappy, angry, frustrated, scared and sick—but better.
“Thank you for your kindness,” she said to the barista.
“I hope you feel better,” said the girl. “Hope it’s not the end.”
“So do I. Time will tell.”
Claire slipped the girl a hundred dollar bill and left the café.
She headed to the condo. There was no concrete plan. She didn’t know if she was going to confront, or what she would find? Perhaps she wouldn’t find anything at all and it was all going to be explained away. Was Lily even going to be there?
She entered the building at last. At first, she was tarrying, now, she wanted to get it over with. Her fingers were trembling when she inserted the key into the keyhole. She felt faint, wanting to vomit. She didn’t want to face it. She wanted things as they were. She wanted to remain happy and blissfully unaware.
It wasn’t to be. Things became clear as soon as she entered the apartment. She never made it past the front hall. There was no need.
Claire saw Caleb’s songbook on a side table. She opened it up to a page that had scribbles all over it. One of the lines caught her attention, “You are from Tennessee, the only place I want to be…” She wondered if it was about her, as she took off her ring and put it on the page. If a ring could be described as “sad” that’s what it was, gleaming softly in the shadows. Then she took a pen and wrote, “I am not the only one. Goodbye.”
And it was over.

The End