Author's Note: I got the idea for this piece after watching the video to "Show Me How to Live" a few times. It's amazing how a few gratuitous shots can start you down that celebrity-fantasy road. My apologies to Chris' wife, but sometimes you just got to share.
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The sun was setting over the far distant hills and fatigue was settling in. You can only drive so far and so fast before the road mesmerizes you and become hopelessly lost. That thought was going through my head as I raced across the early summer desert of New Mexico. And you can only run for so long. Sighing I began easing the speed down from a cool hundred down to a more manageable seventy-five miles per hour. I had to think.
The Southwest is filled with miles of highway that run through nothing. Along the way there are towns – some populated, some boarded up. I always wondered what happened to those towns that were empty. What dreams dried up and died? Where did those people go? We are a country filled with a restless shifting population. From the first pioneers who cut across this same stretch of nothingness we haven't changed a bit.
The desert to me that late afternoon was a place to escape my woes. My relationship was on the rocks big time. People were mad at me. My job was in the balance. I wasn't popular. The remedy? Hit the road with a fast car and an overnight bag. Get out of town, cool off and think.
I was closing in on the Arizona border and I knew that if I didn't stop now it would be a long way until the next town and I was too tired to drive in the utter darkness that enveloped the secondary highway I was on. I pulled into the one horse town that I was fast approaching with a swirl of dust behind me. The first place I saw was a little cantina. The only other vehicle in the lot was a very used pickup truck. I pulled in next to it and stepped out into the fading light.
It was still pretty warm and I could feel the heat coming off the desert floor in waves. The departing sun cast long streaks of red and orange across the sky. The mountains were purple. I grabbed my bag and headed inside to freshen up before I did anything else.
The bar was bigger than I thought, but the only occupant was the bartender. He was leaning against the counter watching TV smoking a cigarette. His head turned to check me out as I entered.
"Where's the restroom?" I asked.
A look over his left shoulder guided me to the Ladies.
"I'm going to freshen up first," I said awkwardly, feeling I had to explain something. "Then I'll be back for a beer."
"What'll you have?"
I scanned the taps and settled on a local brew. He nodded and went to get a glass. I decided I better hurry up if I wanted to drink that beer while it was still cold. I eased myself into the tiny bathroom. At least it was clean, I thought as I began to take assessment of my image in the mirror.
What greeted me in the glass needed some work. My long, brown hair was all over the place despite the bun I put it in many miles ago. My face had a slight coating of dust. Underneath, the skin was slightly red from the glare of the sun all day. I needed a wash, a change of clothes and a little makeup. I quickly got to work and fifteen minutes later I felt a bit more presentable.
Once my bag was back in the car and I was settled on a barstool I began to think of what I was going to do that evening. First up, food. I dug into some tacos and beans and rice. A couple of beers went down with that. Feeling loose and relaxed I leaned on the bar and asked the bartender if there was any place to stay the night.
He snorted laughter and I thought maybe he had some sexist answer to the question, but thought better of it when I gave him a serious look.
"No," was all he came out with after some thought.
Well, that was easy, I thought. No need to find a hotel. Looks like either an all-nighter was in store or a quick snooze in the car. Looking around at the empty bar I didn't think I could stay up all night with only the bartender as company. But that was hours away.
But things were going to change in a big way. Around seven a bunch of vehicles pulled into the parking lot. A few buses that were outfitted for overnight travel accompanied the collection of SUVs that parked around my car. The bartender seemed to be expecting this caravan.
"What's going on out there?" I asked.
"Bunch of rock and rollers," he said. "They're makin' some video in the desert and come here at night to eat, drink and play pool. Nice guys, though. They tip well."
"I bet", I said as I turned my head. "Are they local guys?"
"Nah, nothing round here anyway. These boys are from California and somewheres else."
I was about to ask who they were exactly when the front door opened and a bunch of guys came in. None of the faces seemed familiar, but they weren't exactly unpleasing to the eye. I watched as they filed in. Everyone looked tired and thirsty. When they saw the bartender they smiled and hailed him.
Judging by the long hair and grungy clothes they were either in a band or video producers or both. I didn't want to stare too long so I turned back to my beer. All and all there must have been twenty five guys and a few women thrown in. They turned on the jukebox, bought beers and ordered food. They didn't seem to pay any attention to me and I was glad. I felt horribly out of place in my jeans, western boots and sleeveless blouse.
I spent the next little while watching TV, thinking about 'back home' and watching the crew. Eventually I noticed a familiar face and gasped. These guys were a little more famous than I thought. Off to the side of the main group stood someone I had seen many times in years gone by, both on the small screen and on the stage. And by the looks of it, age had only improved his looks.
The bartender came over to refill my glass.
"Audioslave is here?" I tried to whisper.
"Oh yeah, that's what they're called. I couldn't remember. You heard of 'em?"
I nodded. "That's the lead singer over there," I said pointing.
"You don't say..." He looked at me. "You want to meet him, don't ya? I can tell by the look on yer face."
I blushed. Damnit, was I that much of an open book?
The bartender went over to the other end of the bar. "Hey, you...Chris, right?" he yelled.
Chris turned his head and looked over at us. "What's up, dude?"
"C'mere for a second, will ya?"
Chris ambled over and I got the best view of him all night. My eyes did a quick scan and took in: short, cropped hair – jet black, lean body, black jeans, white shirt with a t-shirt underneath, slightly burnt face, and those green eyes. Jeez.
The bartended cocked a thumb in my direction. "This here lady was askin' about you."
I wanted to die. I mean, I'm not exactly a teenage girl with a crush on some lead singer. This guy was the same age as me. We were mature. Been through it all.
Chris turned his head to look at me. I smiled weakly. I felt foolish, why would this gorgeous specimen of a man care about me? I looked like I hadn't slept in a week and I probably was still disheveled despite the quick cleanup.
But Chris winked at me and smiled a rare smile. I always remembered him so damned serious in the videos.
"Well? Go talk to her or somethin'," said the bartender who suddenly became a matchmaker. I felt my body tense up. I never had contact with a celebrity before, especially someone who occupied a few day dreams back when.
"I intend to," Chris said as he grabbed a fresh beer and ambled over to me.
First thing I noticed as he came to stand next to me was how tall he was. Had to be at least six feet. I barely clocked in at 5'5".
"Mind if I join you?" he asked in a soft voice.
"N-no, not at all," I gulped.
Seated, it was easier to talk to him. He wasn't towering over me.
He stuck out his hand. "I'm Chris," he said.
"Um, I know," I said and then realized it was the polite way of asking who I was. I took his hand in mine, shook it, felt incredible heat and said: "I'm Kat."
"Kat? As in..."
"Katrina," I replied. I released his hand and felt the warmth still radiating in my palm.
"Nice name," he said and took a sip of his beer.
