Page 12 of Guarding the Rock Star
“Why? What’s happening?” I asked. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Just the living room. It’s time you learned about music that was made in this century,” she teased. “I’m going to broaden your horizons.”
“That’s okay,” I reassured her. “I really don’t need to learn anything new.”
“Come on, old lady,” she teased. “Give me an hour, I promise you won’t regret it.”
I made a show of sighing, but the truth was that I was happy to spend some time with my mate. We settled on the sectional couch, Tasha on one end and me on the other, an entire cushion separating us. Tasha pressed a button, and suddenly the blank wall across from the couch lit up.
“Is that a projector?” I asked, looking around to see a tiny machine hidden on the top of a bookcase.
“Yeah. It’s much better than having a TV taking up space and collecting dust,” Tasha told me.
I had to agree. This set-up would be perfect for watching Seahawks games in the fall. I hoped my mate was a football fan. I wasn’t normally a day dreamer, but right now, I could visualize us snuggled up on this couch watching football.
Tasha fiddled around with the remote until she found what she was looking for.
“This is one of my concert videos,” she said. “It was part of a super popular music festival in L.A., so I had several other big time musicians doing songs with me.”
She pressed play and I saw Tasha stride out onto the stage looking like she owned the world. She was wearing a skintight, sparkly dress and high heels, smiling at the screaming crowd.
“You don’t strike me as a dress and high heels type,” I observed.
“Fuck, I hate wearing dresses, and any shoe with a heel is torture for me,” she confirmed. “But sometimes I gotta play the part.”
The crowd finally quieted, and Tasha began to sing. The song was some kind of a ballad, and I was surprised by her voice. I’d learned already that Tasha was loud and boisterous, but onstage her voice was sweet. Strong, but sweet. My mate was incredibly talented. I watched her, mesmerized, as she sang the song, her hips swaying and her eyes fixed on the audience as if she was singing to every person who’d come to see her.
Suddenly the crowd erupted as another woman walked on the stage.
“Wait a second, is that Melissa Etheridge?” I asked.
“You know Melissa Etheridge?” Tasha asked in surprise. “She’s not some old dead white guy from the seventeen hundreds.”
I didn’t tell her that I used to listen to Melissa Etheridge albums with my mother before she died. The memory was too painful. My mother was the one person in my life who’d always accepted me just the way I was. Unfortunately, she’d died in a car accident when I was only twelve years old, although I’d always had my suspicions that my father was somehow to blame.
Tasha and Melissa began singing together, each of them taking a verse. I hadn’t heard the song before, but it was going to be my new favorite. Melissa’s deeper voice was a perfect complement to Tasha’s more dulcet tones, and it was clear from their interaction on the stage that they had a natural rapport. When they finished, there was a hushed silence before the crowd erupted in cheers.
“Okay,” I told her. “Now I’m impressed.”
Tasha
I was surprised that it took Melissa Etheridge to impress Wanda. Then again, I was surprised that she even knew of Melissa. She’d achieved mainstream success by any standard, but everyone knew she was a lesbian icon. She had many straight fans for sure, but if I met a Melissa fan, she was almost always a lesbian.
“I take it you’re a lesbian?” I asked.
Wanda gave me one of those long looks. “My sexuality isn’t relevant to my job.”
“But wouldn’t I know if my cousin was straight or not?” I asked.
When she didn’t answer I hit the mute button on the projector and scooted closer to her on the couch. She had an intoxicating smell, like fresh cut grass and a tinge of iron, which shouldn’t work, but it did.
“I’m a lesbian.”
“No kidding,” she said wryly.
I looked at her curiously. “What are you saying, I look like a lesbian or something?”
Wanda shook her head. “I could tell by your nipples, the way they get hard when I’m close to you. And the fact that you got aroused when I manhandled you in the car. I could hear your heart rate increasing too.”
