A/N: Please suspend your beliefs and just imagine. Okay, I know you all have great imaginations, we watch a show about Zombies.
So, picture this...
~Iowa born Michonne (like Madonna the world calls her by her first name only), without a diva bone in her perfectly fit body, but fabulous just the same, this beauty is the lead vocalist and novice acoustic guitar player.
~London born Rick Grimes (known to the world as Grimes aka The Ringleader) is a sexy kick-ass bassist, Prince would be proud.
~Seoul born Glenn Rhee (aka Rhee-Rhee) is a drummer who could put Tommy Lee to shame in several departments. Ehem!
~And New Jersey-born Maggie Greene (the fans call her MG) is the lead guitar hero and back up vocalist, Sir Eric Clapton has a crush on this babe.
Yep, this hot quartet is some Rock Stars. Yeah, Rock stars as in they have a band (called The Apocalypse), they play large venues where the best tickets are going to cost you about 300 big ones, they tour around the world, they have fans, haters, paparazzi, t-shirts and the whole nine. They've known each other since college and they are currently on their 10th world tour... Okay, I think I've set this up enough, on with the show, I mean story...
XOXOXOX
Michonne POV
A few years ago, you'd insisted on taking guitar lessons. You wanted to learn proper strumming and techniques, you'd said. Everything you knew from years ago before college was self-taught. If your playing were to progress, you insisted, you needed to start getting to know your instrument on a different level.
I honestly couldn't fathom the humility it took for the bass player of the world's biggest rock band to call up an instructor and very seriously say that he wanted to employ their services.
I marveled at the man you had become in those ten years, and how much closer that had brought us and our small circle. You always believed in us, from the very first time our music instructor Mr. Myers placed the four of us together. You were the only one excited about the project, you motivated us, immediately honing in on our strengths and weaknesses.
We didn't know each other well back then so we argued for hours on the song choice. Finally, we settled on Queen- Another One Bites the Dust. We all agreed, that song has the best rhythm and you were so confident that I could nail the lyrics. The night of the competition I was a nervous wreck, I looked out into the audience and instantly my throat went dry. You whispered my name and the moment I heard your bass riff all of my anxiety washed away.
Unbelievably, we got a standing ovation that afternoon; not an easy mission with that crowd. Julliard students are the most critical of their peers; it comes with the territory. Artist of the highest degree, selected to attend this prestigious school and each student has a deep passion for the craft, being highly critical comes naturally.
After we received such notable acclaims from our teachers and peers, you had the idea to take us further, thus changing our lives forever.
We made a demo, mailed them to all the major record labels. You sold our demos out of the trunk of your little Toyota to our friends. And booked us our first potential paying gig. The New York City battle of the bands. We practiced our ass off with the week we had before the show. We almost killed each other, but damn, it paid off. We beat out eleven out of the twelve bands, winning 2nd place. That's when I truly began to believe in us, in what we could have.
I knew we would be inseparable from that moment on. Although I never thought that we'd spend our summer playing in New York nightclubs and in just a year time we'd be signed by Sony.
The sound of an old tune drifted lazily in the open window. I listened to you play for a minute in solitude, your bluesy notes washing over my entire body. Most people didn't know you could play the guitar too. You were far better with it than I ever was, a fact that shamed me to admit and delighted me to behold at the same time. It made me want to curl up in your lap and become your guitar. I finished the last gulp of my water and, leaving it on the counter next to the sink, I went outside to find you.
Stopping at the threshold between the living room and the terrace, I pause for a moment to take in the sweeping views of the Mediterranean, which I find impossible not to do every time I'm here in this exact location. I spot you, hidden off to the side of the house, and I have to pull a chair over with me because you're practically sitting in the garden. You see me and stop in the middle of your song and I regret coming out here entirely. As I go, I disheveled the grass some, and I try to pat it down with the toe of my sandals a bit once I get my chair in place next to you. I smile wanly in your direction as I sit down, feeling like I've spoiled not only the grass.
"What were you playing?" I tried to act like I've not completely interrupted you and your concentration.
"Oh, I don't know..." You wave your hand around like it's nothing. "I was just making it up."
I try not to let my incredulous feeling seep into my face. "You're kidding. You're telling me you were just..."
"Improvising." You nod as you look down at the acoustic in your hands.
"It sounded so old, like something from Memphis," I say unable to contain my smile.
You look right at me and a long silence stretches out between us, making the air thicker by the second. I didn't mean to say that and I wish I could take it back instantly. We both know what happened in Memphis, and that's a story that will stay between the two of us.
"Memphis," you repeat and I drew in a reliving breath of air when you smiled back at me with that sweet look of nostalgia.
We were both so heartbroken at the time. You were dating that twenty-seven-year-old Italian model and you swore she was the one. Everyone else believed it too, including me. You both had been going strong for close to a year. You were devastated when you read in the tabloids that she had become engaged to a fifty-two-year-old executive at Warner Brothers. At that time, I had been with DD for over 2 years. Daryl Dixon, the blue-eyed black-haired country crooner with all the looks, and personality to make him a superstar. He was our opening act in our Canadian tour back in 2010. The year DD and I decided to get married everything quickly fell apart. He admitted that he never trusted me, especially with you. He said it was in the way we looked at one another. He started pushing me away, not returning calls, canceling dates and that's when the rumors began, he was seeing his ex. Needless to say, we fizzled out. Still, I have no regrets, none with my relationship with him or with our night together.
Although, I often wondered what he saw between us back then. Was it a particular picture from a photo shoot, a scene in a music video?
You, Rick Grimes, are the quintessential the heartthrob, you've dated and had fling after fling with many beautiful women. That's why that night in Memphis was something out of a fantasy. Sometimes I hardly believed I'd ever been party too. Even though I know it happened, it was still dreamlike.
I muscle through the moment, the only way I know how "We'll be back there so soon... the second leg of the tour..." I trail off as I look out toward the coastline curved as if drawn by an artist's hand, the golden sands making a thick band between the waves and the vegetation beyond. Between the boats that left for fishing and the shoreline were sandbanks, snaking their way through the briny waters before sinking once more. The small, wet pebbles that lined the beach sparkled in the lingering light of sunset.
"Indeed, looking forward to it..." you nod, you run your hand through your wild curly hair that won't ever stay in place.
You prop your guitar gently against your chair and stand up taking a long and drawn out stretch. "You know how it is; we're gone so much anyway."
"Do you have any regrets," I say, staring your stunning blue eyes down until they find me.
Sometimes I think you leave out your feelings to spare me. Because you don't want me to have to feel it with you and you know I'd have no choice in that matter.
"None, not a single one."
You answer without hesitation.
I pick up the book of photography lying next to your chair. I'm not even sure why you have a book full of photos of space with you out here. It could just as easily have been a gift from MG or Rhee. I flip through the NASA photos but keep being drawn back to the cover, which includes a repeating greyscale pattern of the phases of the moon.
I look at you, and you expertly read my inquisitive glare.
"Did you know those aren't black and white photos? The surface of the moon is actually grey," oblivious to my doubt, you pick your guitar up and begin to strum something new a corporeal and ethereal tune.
I put the book back down where I found it as I lean forward and ask, "What is that? It's so sensual."
"Something new me and MG have been working on... Something about the stars." You say between notes.
You're always surprising me. "I wish I could be your guitar. I'd let you play me every day of the week," I sing, gazing up at you from the palms of my hands, unconsciously batting my heavy eyelashes. I scoot closer and walk my fingers playfully up your arm, "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday..."
My words turn to laughter as you smile and lean over your instrument to kiss me. The kiss was short and sweet, we'd done it many times; the first was in celebration of our first paying gig; all the times we'd gotten caught in the moment, rocking out on stage. I remember reading a columnist blog about our kiss when we performed on the Tonight Show. They claimed it was all for show, but the crowds love it.
"I like that," You say bobbing your head, you smile, still playing your beautiful melody. You think I'm collaborating with you, creating lyrics to your tune about the stars.
So, I play along.
"Until both of our knees get weak, we'll make sweet, oh so sweet love, let me play, every day," I hold the last note, serenading to you, gazing into your bedroom eyes.
You become enraptured by my voice and we become enthused and you recite the lyrics to the chorus that MG wrote and I sing that too...
"And in the land of star-crossed lovers, and barren hearted wanderers, full moon above, two lips to kiss and start anew, it all depends on you... Will we fall apart the way that star-crossed lovers do?"
"Perfect," You say while strumming your guitar oh so eloquently.
Truly inspired by what is happening and I come up with more lyrics..." I'm right here I'm your star-crossed lover, I lie here like a starless lover I'll die here as your phantom lover and the angels are falling down into the garden of truth. Where two star-crossed lovers cut across one another. You got a lot of lovers with star-crossed wrists. They keep a candle burning on the corner you kissed. One day I might die, until then there's too much to do. But I'll keep a bonfire for you. Yeah, But, I'll keep a bonfire for you."
You gaze at me as if I'm one of the seven wonders and so I repeat the chorus and you smile.
"That was incredible!" You say to me with a smile so bright, so warm and sincere, my heart skips a beat.
I think we've just come up with the makings of our 12th song to make our 10th album complete.
I've never been so sure of anything. I no longer wanted to keep what I was feeling to myself. You needed to know how you make me feel, what I believe in.
"Let's celebrate," I ask, hoping your mind was at the same place as mine.
You're still smiling at me, and my entire body warms in the most intimate place. "Sure," you answer, "the hostess left a bottle of wine in the foyer, I'll go get it." You place your guitar against the chair and stand from your seat.
"I want to celebrate the way we did in Memphis," I added, licking my lips and swiveling my hips in the chair, making sure my suggestion was crystal clear.
"What?" You respond I suppose my comment was so out of character, so far from what you knew of me, you just stared at me open-mouthed. Your brain formulated no thoughts other than to register that what I said shocked you.
After a moment you closed your mouth, then looked at your sandaled toes before glancing back up to catch my eyes. Shyness wasn't usually your gig, what the hell was going on here?