A Beautiful Rock (15 page)

“There. There. Her house is there,” I direct from the back seat of Theo and Naomi’s car.

“The one with the cornflower blue railings?” Naomi asks
.

“Yeah. The one with the veranda.”

Without waiting for Theo to turn the engine off, I’m out of the car and racing up to the front door, knocking loudly against the painted white wood.

“Lisa!” I call out. “It’s me. Let me in.” I wait for a few moments, but there’s no response – only silence. I have no idea where she would go beside
s home; she doesn’t talk to her family and besides, they live in another state. The only other place I can think of is her friend Sandra… what was her surname.

I pull my phone out and look up Voyeur Magazine’s journalists. Sandra Haegan. That’s the one.

Punching her name into the directory, I come up with her address. She’s not far from here.

“What’s happening?” Theo asks as I return to the car.

“She’s not here.”

“Do you know where else she might go?” asks Naomi, her brows furrowed together in concern.

“I only know of one friend. This is her,” I say, handing over my phone.

“Ok. Let’s go see if she’s there.”

***

As
we arrive at Sandra’s house, a sense of relief washes over me. She must be here. There are press mingling out the front.

“Do you want me to pull into the driveway or just drive by?” asks Theo
as he slows the car right down.

“Are you fucking serious?
Stop!” I command suddenly. Fucking Jonathan fucking-shit-dick-lying-arsehole Masters’ car is parked in the driveway.

I jump out of the car and race
toward the door. The press sees me and gives chase, yelling questions about the state of my relationship with Lisa and how I feel about my fans protesting against it.

I try to ignore them. I really do
. But they are the sole reason I’m not with the woman I’ve fallen for right now.
They
have driven her away.

Pausing in front of the door, I turn on the lot of them. “
You know what? Just FUCK OFF!” I yell, taking another breath to hurl even more abuse at them.

Although,
I barely finish my first obscenity before I’m pulled backwards into the house.

“What are you doing? You’re going
make this even more of a circus than it already is,” Jonathan says to me. I look around the room – no Lisa. Where the fuck is she?

I’m already seeing red, and his face
coupled with her absence just makes the colour flare brighter. I charge toward him, grabbing him by the throat and pushing against him until he’s stumbling backward, finally stopping when I’ve slammed him against the wall.

Lisa’s friend, Sandra, is behind me, yelling at me to stop. But I’m not listening. Instead, I lean into
Jonathan’s smug fucking face and growl through gritted teeth. “You’re a fucking liar! Where the hell is she?”

He moves his mout
h like a goldfish out of water as his eyes bug out and water as his face turns bright red.

“You’re killing him!” Sandra shrieks, thumping her
fists against my back. It’s enough to snap me out of my rage and release his throat.

Jonathan stands up
straight and rubs at his neck. “Oh god. Are you ok?” Sandra asks, racing to his aid and fussing over him while she checks that he can breathe ok.

He nods
. “I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s ok.”

Still breathing heavily, and still furious with him, I ask my question again. “Where is she?”

“She’s gone. Neither of us know where,” Sandra answers. “I promise you. She didn’t tell any of us.”

My head starts to pound. I don’t know what else to
do. I don’t know how to find her. Squeezing my head between my hands, I shake my head, disbelieving that this is it.

Jonathan takes a small step forward before reiterating what Sandra already said.
“She’s disappeared again, mate. I’m sorry. But she’s gone.”

“Fuck!” I yell, picking up
a dining chair and hurling it toward the front window. The sound of breaking glass, blinds and the pop of camera flashes, fill the air around us.

I stand there, looking out at the
destruction by my hand, chest heaving, soul destroyed, heartbroken.

And it’s all caught on film…
again.

***

When I filled up at the petrol station, there was a display with popular CDs inside it. I don’t know why, it’s probably some sort of sick torture on my part, but I purchased one of Marcus’s.

After knowing him for a month
and a half, the only time I’ve heard him sing was when I watched that YouTube video. I’ve played his album on repeat my whole journey, and the moment his soulful voice filled my ears, I burst into tears.

So many of his songs are about heartache and
loneliness. It feels like he’s singing my emotions and speaking to my soul. I should stop listening, but I can’t seem to make myself. I need to hear him.

I’ve now cried for nearly ten hours straight, and I’ve arrived at my destination.
It’s quiet here. I’m pretty much in the middle of nowhere with no people around for miles. It’s the perfect place to get lost and hopefully stay lost.

t
hree months later…

1,087. That’s the number of times I’ve tried to call Lisa since that day.

How can two people, come together so perfectly
one day, and then fall apart the next? It makes no sense to me. It’s not like I’m the only one who felt it - I know she did too. I was there - I saw it in her eyes. I felt it in her touch.

Our souls joined that day
. Instead of being two, we became one, and when we parted we were only half. I need her to be whole.

For three months, I’ve carried this lump in my chest. It feels
like a gaping wound, caused by our separation, and I can’t close it. I can’t stop the pain.

Drinking doesn’t help, and other women or drugs aren’t even an option for me. I wake in the morning with her on my mind. I
go to bed thinking of her and dream about her while I sleep and every moment I’m awake, I’m wishing for her to come back. It’s pure torture.

I hired a private investigator
. He found nothing. It’s like she’s just vanished off the face of the earth.

The only thing that he
lps remotely is to write music. In a month, I’m supposed to go on tour again. But I can’t bring myself to sing. Right now, I can only write and play. Because the day she left, she took my heart with her and I can’t do what I do without it.

I need her back
.

The moment the media realised she was gone, my manager Craig came sniffing around again. He told me that
if I honoured the rest of my contract with the label then he’d drop the assault charges against me. At the time, I agreed. I was too messed up to think it through. I just wanted him to go away. I wanted to be alone.

My family has been great. Naomi and Theo keep
coming over and making sure I’m functioning at some sort of manageable level. Even though I moan that I want to be left alone, they come listen to me moaning and sit with me when I’m silent. Every other day, my mother is here. She fusses over me and cleans up. She’s a typical Italian mother, leaving food, telling me to eat. I know I’m worrying her, but I can’t stop feeling this way. I feel a great sense of loss.

Today, I’m supposed to
be at some meeting about my tour schedule and I haven’t bothered to show up. I’ve had numerous phone calls come through from both Craig and Karen and I’ve ignored them all. I just can’t make myself give a shit.

I know - I knew her for
six weeks. I was with her for one night. But I’m telling you, she’s the one for me, and three months without her feels like a lifetime of pain.

As expected, the calls eventually stop, but now there’s a knocking at my door.

“Marcus,” calls out Karen. Of course Craig would send her. I barely grunt at him these days. I hate his skeezeball face and really wish I could have the satisfaction of breaking his nose again. Although, I guess I’ll just have to be happy that his nose is now slightly off centre from the first hit.

He’s been trying to talk to me about re
-signing with the label when my contract is up in the New Year. But that’s not going to happen. He’ll be lucky if I finish this contract out. At this point, I don’t really care how much it costs me. I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t go back to that life.

I knew true happiness for such a short period of tim
e. I can’t go back – I just can’t.

Karen bangs again. “I know you’re in there Marcus. Please answer the door.”

Finally, I trudge over to the door and pull it open. “What can I do for you Karen?” I ask, acting as though I have no idea why she’s here.

It doesn’t fool her though as she sets her hands on her hips. “You missed your meeting and
you look like a hobo.” Her jibe makes me reach up and run my hand over my face and through my hair. I haven’t shaved in weeks and my hair has grown out in no real style. I’m beginning to look like a blond grizzly bear.

“I don’t care about the tour,” I retort.

Levelling her gaze on me, she shakes her head in disappointment. “I get that you’re heartbroken Marcus. I really do. But you can’t let your career go down the toilet just because you’re sad. If you quit, you take a lot of people’s jobs with you. I know there’s no love lost between you and Craig but what about me? What about your crew? ‘Marcus Bailey’ isn’t just your name. It’s a brand – an institution. If you go down – we all go down.”

“I know. I know. And I’m sorry. I just want her back. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” I tell her helplessly.

She steps forward and takes my hand in hers. “Marcus, we have one week left to find her before this becomes a huge issue. I promise to call in every favour I have to find her for you. But you’ll have to do something for me in return – clean yourself up. Cut you’re fucking hair and shave that beard off. The time for wallowing in your sorrow is over. Time to man up – alright?” she imparts, gripping my shoulders and peering into my eyes.

I nod, not expecting that she’s goi
ng to be able to find anything, but it doesn’t hurt to let her try. Maybe she can do something that I can’t.

***

At times, I’ve wondered

Why we tried at all

You’d come around, spend time with me

All the while, I knew we couldn’
t be

You have to know

I feel the same

I think about you everyday

Because you and I both know, that together we are one

We both know

Together we are one

S
o many times, I’ve packed my bags

Planning to run
to you

Your heart beats inside me
, every day

I know we can’t last, and so I stay

You have to know

I feel the same

I think about you everyday

Because you and I both know, that together we are one

We both know

Together we are one

I know I ran away, but I wished I could stay

I know I ran away, but I wished I could stay

I ran away, I ran away, I ran away

Because I kne
w I’d only lose you, anyway

You have to know

I feel the same

I think about you everyday

Because you and I both know, that together we are one

We both know

Together we are one

O
ne, perfect moment was all we had

It’s all we had

1,2
46,826. That’s how many times that song has been downloaded. I’m sure you thought it was Marcus’s, but it’s not. It’s mine.

I
n the weeks after I left him, I felt lost. And having no one to talk to, I turned to writing down my feelings. Those feelings turned into lyrics, which turned into music. And having little else to do besides wallow, I recorded it. It was a very crude copy, using some very basic equipment I got off eBay.

I don’t know why I did it
– I haven’t played an instrument since I fell out with my family. My father made all of us take lessons growing up. I guess he felt that one of us would carry on his namesake. It was just a shame that none of us were ever good enough for him to say so. So music was something I’ve never pursued.

But
now, while I’m on my own and away from it all completely - writing and singing the song helped me feel better. And feeling I couldn’t physically reach out to Marcus, I made the decision to put the song out there. Hoping that maybe he’d find it and feel some sort of connection with it… I don’t know. I guess it seems a little silly, but it’s all I could think to do.

No one knows it’s mine
. I, of course, uploaded it with a fake name via an independent distributor, and for two dollars a pop, people are purchasing it. I don’t even know how they found it. I guess it’s just one of those ‘right place at the right time’ type of things.

The track is just basic piano and my voice. I think it would be much better with strings, but I didn’t have the
contacts nor did I have the inclination to make that happen. I basically wrote it to try and lift that weight from my chest, and when writing didn’t alleviate the ache, I recorded it and uploaded, hoping that sending it out into the world would help me let go.

It hasn’t. I still miss him. I still search for him online. I feel like a stalker.
But most of all, I feel cut off. There are no recent photos of him - none at all. And I don’t know why.