Unplugged (A Portrait of a Rock Star) by J. P. Grider Page A

with our training sessions, we would go to Starbuck’s for our skinny lattes.  The conversations never got as tense as our first visit, but they were enjoyable and very easy.  I was comfortable with Mara and if I were not mistaken, she was comfortable with me. 
    It was Friday again and Mara would be coming any minute.  I was doing really well and dropping weight at a pretty speedy pace.  I could see muscles forming in my shoulders and biceps and it felt good.  But it worried me, because when would Mara feel as if I didn’t need her as a trainer any more?  I didn’t want her to tell me that I could do it without her.  Of course I could workout without her pushing me, but then when would I see her?  We hadn’t taken our relationship any further than a friendly trainer/client bond.  It was maddening, but I really wanted to ask Mara out on a date.  I just didn’t know how.  I hadn’t prepared myself for ever dating again; I don’t even know if I should date.  Could I ever be loyal?  I mean I really screwed up in my marriage and that’s the century’s understatement.  If I couldn’t trust myself, then how could I ever earn Mara’s trust in me?  So, because I was essentially deciding not to ask Mara out, I was feeling a bit sorrowful about it.  The trainer/client relationship was the best I could give, I guess.
    When the doorbell rang, I expected it to be Mara.  It was not.  Standing at my front door was my 6’5” father, dressed in all his rock-star attire.  It didn’t matter that my father was no longer performing; he still donned his black leather each and every day.  Auggie Holland, with his long, thick salt and pepper hair, was a cross between Steven Tyler and Sam Elliot and he still attracted women of every age, any marital status.  But, what was more astonishing than seeing my larger-than-life dad at my door was seeing the man who was standing next to him.  My best-friend. Ronnie Fontane had a smile that spread from ear to ear.  I’m not sure if it was a genuine, happy-to-finally-see-you-again smile or your-dad’s-gonna-bring-us-back-to-the-big-time smile. “Dad, Ronnie, come in.” Before I shut the door, I saw Mara hesitate on her way up the walk.  “Mara, come on.  It’s okay.”  And, when she got closer, I whispered, “Please stay by my side the whole time they’re here.”
    She crinkled her eyes at me like I was crazy, but shrugged and said, “Alright.”
    We all headed for the living room, but no one sat down.  “Dad, Ronnie, this is Mara, my …Mara.”  I couldn’t call her my trainer.  Even though she was, my feelings for her were deeper than that and I couldn’t bring myself to minimize what she was to me.
    Mara held out her hand to both of them.  “It’s nice to meet you.”  Although she had looked them both in the eyes when she was shaking their hands, she did seem very shy in their presence.  It was obvious she knew who they were.  I suddenly felt a pang in the pit of my stomach, because I was thinking of the ladies at the Starbuck’s several weeks ago.  Growing up around famous people, I guess I was immune to the hold that celebrities had on society.  In an attempt to make Mara feel more comfortable, I moved closer to her and took her hand in mine.  Truthfully, I don’t know if I did that to make her feel more at ease or to make myself feel that way.  In any event, I was holding her hand in front of my father and Ronnie and she didn’t pull it away.  She actually squeezed her hand tighter around mine.  It was hard to concentrate on my guests when all I could focus on was the galvanizing surge running through my body because I was hand-in-hand with Mara.
    “So Taggart,” My dad always called me that and it never failed to put fear in me to hear him say it. “I think it's time we talk about going back to work.”
    I closed my eyes in a vain attempt to make him disappear.  “Yeah, Dad, well, I’m not sure that I’m ready for that