The Rockstar Chronicles

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Ryder’s assistant had joined us as we left the building. Besides a glimpse of mousy brown hair and glasses, I hadn’t been able to get a good look at her. She was quiet, fading into the background. I found myself wondering what she though of all this. Was it as strange and new to her as it had been to me? Or was she used to this lifestyle now? I didn’t get a chance to even begin questioning her. She had stayed only a few minutes, long enough to go over a list of items with Ryder before leaving us once again. Will Grady every need an assistant? I asked myself. Try as I might, I just couldn’t make myself believe he would ever be that important.

The limo ride was nerve wracking. Despite its size, it felt as if we were all crammed inside. I settled into my seat, my hands sweaty with nerves, sure that we were in for a long trip, but minutes later, to my surprise, the limo slowed and then stopped. I sat up, peering out of the window.

The house was not what I had expected. I thought it would be older. I had imagined a crumbling two story house with a white railing, chipped paint, and ancient shrubbery in an older section of town. I don’t know why. I guess it just seemed southern to me. But the house was much different.

The block approaching the houses was long and private, not busy and bustling like I had thought it would be. I was right on a couple of points, though. It was located in an older section of town and the houses were two stories high. But there the similarities ended.

The limo slowed in front of the two very large, very modern, very identical houses. They stuck out like sore thumbs next to the other older homes on the street, all of which did resemble what I had imagined. They seemed alive and full of character compared to the newer structures. I found myself wishing that I could live in one of them instead.

It was obvious immediately that the new houses had been replacements after the tear down of older structures. Tall wrought iron fences wrapped around the homes, the greenery in front of them giving them an air of seclusion.

It reminded me of a prison.

We bypassed the gates centered at the end of the walkways leading to the front doors, the limo gliding smoothly to one of the sets of solid gates at the corner of each fence. They slowly swung open, admitting us reluctantly into the carefully protected interior.

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