The Write Off Series is back!
Welcome back, Dear Reader. This post brings back a feature where we have two or more authors write off against each other. For the next three days, we’re using the same scene from different points of view. Our goal is to show the difference in perspective; what different characters notice and think. We’re going to present this in the form of narrative so it’s more organic to writing. In this Write Off, we have three POV’s – the lost love, the rock star, and the current groupie girlfriend.
This is the second scene in the Three Way Write Off. If you haven’t read the first part — the former girlfriends scene (written by Wench Tami Lund) then do so here.
Today’s post is the rock star’s perspective (written by the Barkeep Michael Simko).
Tomorrow is part three picking up the story from the groupie girlfriend’s perspective (written by Wench Sheri Williams).
Maria, physical therapist who has hung out her shingle in the same small town where she has lived for her entire life.
Savior, the rock star who walked away from his first love to find fame and glory.
Serenity, the groupie-turned-girlfriend.
Savior has a hip injury that’s affecting his latest world tour, and he’s brought Serenity with him, when he returns home to his roots, theoretically so that Maria can help him get over his injury, so he can get back on the road and live the lifestyle he swears he still wants.
Picking up the scene from where part one left off:
Maria still pines for me. It’s obvious from her outfit. Nice heels show off her toned legs. Of course a physical therapist would stay in shape. I expected Maria to hate me after all these years. Here I escaped this soulless town and went off to live like a god. Little does she know that the rock star life sucks your soul out.
“Gabriel, What do you need treated for?” Maria asks.
Serenity snickers, but stops when I give her my frustrated look. Serenity has been my biggest supporter, but at times she’s embarrassing to have around. Yet, I owed it to her to bring her along — especially when meeting an ex-girlfriend.
“My hips. The left one is super tight and catching when I walk. The right one flares with pain when I do my patented Holy High Kick. The kids go ape for that.”
Serenity bounces on the chair next to me. “He is so damn sexy when he does that. Every girl in the arena wants him right there and then.”
Maria’s eye twitches the way it does when she’s uncomfortable. The last time I saw it was when I told her that I was going to walk my own path. That girl was nuts about me. But what’s a wanna-be rocker to do? My manager told me that clingers ruin music careers. He said either we cut ways or neither of us will achieve our dreams. So I freed her to follow her own dreams. I’m a humanitarian.
“We’ll have to do strength and range motion tests to see what the problem is.” Maria says, “Have you had X-rays?”
“He did, right after his ‘accident’. Nothing broken or torn,” Serenity says before I can answer. “Can you fix him?”
There’s a twinkle in Maria’s eye. Her jealousy has switched to amusement. Her gaze returns to me before she asks, “Why? Is he broken?”
Physically and otherwise.
“Oh yeah he’s broken. He can’t do the splits. He’s even having trouble with stairs. It’s playing hell on our love life.”
Maria is giving me a look of pity.
I pull a hundred out of my money clip. “Babe. How about you take this down and get us a bottle for the hotel room.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Serenity says. “You’re recovering, and I don’t need booze to do whatever you like.”
So much for having a little time to talk. “Then can you wait in the lobby?”
There’s a flash of hurt in her eyes. Serenity kisses me on the cheek before walking out.
We sit in silence until we hear the door close.
Maria crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. “I see you still love the brainy girls.”
Ouch. “There are a lot of great things about Serenity.”
“I saw most of her assets. I bet if I pull up the Internet I can see the rest of them.”
I’m feeling a bit defensive. “This is about my body, not hers.”
“Of course, I’m a professional — remember?”
My stomach is in knots. We had such great times. Even with all the fame, my time with her was the best of my life. Maria would have sold her soul to be mine and I did her a disservice. Damn I’m a scumbag.
Maria leads me out of the office and down a hallway to treatment room number two. The walk is painful and my left hip keeps clicking as I walk. Inside the room is Swiss balls, those rubber bands that women use for workouts, and a study-looking brown padded table.
“Did you bring workout clothes?”
I shake my head. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“No problem. Drop trousers and climb on the table.” She steps out of the room.
My leather pants are not trousers, thank you very much. I do as told, and then pull myself onto the table.
Maria returns holding a clipboard. Her eyes are on it until she’s close to me. The clipboard falls out of her hands and smacks off the tiled floor.
“What on earth are you doing? Why did you take your underwear off?”
“Underwear lines are uncool in leather pants, and you said drop trousers.”
It looks like there’s a debate going in her mind. She is deliberate in her actions, taking time while pondering. “You may as well take your shirt off as well.”
We rock stars are often naked. Stars — like I’m not just a trained monkey.
Maria moves my legs in several ways, trying out mobility. The left hip pops a few times during her examination and my right one clicks.
“Are you sure those x-rays didn’t spot anything? Whatever you take to get this big may have a degenerative effect. Why did you put so much mass on?”
“It’s what it takes now a days. I’m the rock n roll badass,” I say with irony. “The magazines love to put the big ape on the cover. I cross-market onto workout magazines and even some women’s mags.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen your covers.” Her hands brush my ripped chunky abs, her fingers trace the “I am my own” tattoo under my pecs. Across my chest is my trademark SAVIOR in a Bible font.
“How is being your own savior going for you?”
“You want the public answer or the real one?”
“The real,” she says while starting back on my hips.
Pain flares as she pulls the left hip out. “I’m a steaming hot mess — always have been. I ran away from here because I thought my problems were with this town.”
She reefs on my leg to where I have to grab the table from the agony. “Then it wasn’t me?” she says before moving to the other side of the table.
“Of course not. You were the lone ray of hope that warmed my soul. That’s why I had to leave — so you wouldn’t be sucked down into the pit of my misery.”
Maria stops. There are tears in her eyes. This has to be the first time a physical terrorist has been the one crying. “All these years I thought you were shoving me away. That you just wanted to go find wilder girls.”
The chuckle escapes me. “I’ve lived the lifestyle for years and I haven’t found anyone wilder yet.”
Her eyes start to water. “Why did you come back? It can’t be because you think I’m the best PT in America — even though I am.” Her fingers trace along my leg. “Did you come back for me?”
Desire to say yes rages through me. I start to speak when Serenity coughs at the door.
Check back Tomorrow for part three of The Three Way Write Off – Serenity.