Forbidden Ballad: Rock My World Novel – There is Walker, stark undressed in his bed. His eyes are closed and a low moan escapes his lips as a beautiful, young blonde rides him. Her head is thrown back and her eyes are closed too, and she moaning in a high needy voice as she rides my fiancé. Walker reaches up to cup her tiny, perky breasts, touching her shaved private part. As I find my voice finally, I grab Walker’s boots and chuck at Walker’s head, screaming, “What the heck?” He yells and rolls over, and the young girl grabs the sheet and wraps it around her. “You said she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow,” she snaps, before huffing out the door. “How could you?” I shouts, my traitorous eyes filling with tears. I did not want to cry. I’m stronger than this. “Carly, let me explain,” he says, coming towards me. “Don’t touch me! We’re over!” I shriek, turning around and leave.
Carly My boots click up the long driveway, and I know I have an extra bounce in my step. I haven’t seen Walker in nearly two weeks, and that’s the longest amount of time we have ever been apart. I told him that I wasn’t arriving until tomorrow, but I was able to get a seat on an earlier flight, and now I was going to surprise him. I’m sure that he’s holed up inside his house, trying to put the last minute finishing touches on our tour that goes off in two weeks. In fact, we start rehearsals in less than forty-eight hours. As I quietly sneak up Walker’s stone-laid steps, I still can’t believe my stupid good fortune. It was five years ago, at only nineteen, when I left my family behind in Baltimore to try to pursue a country music career.
My whole family thought I was nuts when I took my college savings and bought a one-way ticket to Nashville and a pair of genuine cowgirl boots. I lived in a cramped apartment with three other girls, spending my savings on demo tapes and pounding the pavement to get heard. I met Walker after living in Nashville for six months, and we clicked right away. We began making music, and soon we were getting gigs all over the city. We recorded our first album together, and went on tour with Miranda Lambert. Opening for her was incredible, and it was on that tour where Walker and I let our relationship evolve into something more. Five years later we were still going strong, and one day soon I would be Mrs. Walker Stevens. I glance at the sparkling diamond on my left hand and smile again. Walker is going to be so happy to see me! I stealthily slip my key into the door and turn the knob. I let myself into his house and inhale deeply. I wrinkle my nose. Something doesn’t smell right.
Usually, Walker’s house smells fresh and woodsy, but I smell something sickeningly sweet like magnolia or freesia. Almost like some reeking candles. “What the heck?” I mutter. It’s quiet in the house and all the shades are drawn. I wonder where Walker could be. Usually he camps out in the living room when he’s working on music, but I only see his guitar leaning against the wall and a blanket balled up on the floor. I hear a sound coming from the bedroom, and I move into the hallway. The door is closed, and I pause listening again. I hear it again but it’s muffled. Maybe Walker is working in the bedroom? I smooth down my teeny sundress, and quickly rake my fingers through my long caramel-hued hair. Just as I’m putting my hand on the doorknob, I hear a low erotic moan. The next few seconds feel like they are happening in slow motion. I push the door open and my eyes try to adjust to the horrifying scene. There is Walker, stark undressed in his bed and flat on his back.
His eyes are closed and a low moan escapes his lips as a beautiful, young blonde rides him. Her head is thrown back and her corn silk hair cascades down her back and grazes against his legs. Her eyes are closed too, and she moaning in a high needy voice as she rides my fiancé. Walker reaches up to cup her tiny, perky breasts and then trails one hand down her flat stomach, before pressing it against her shaved private part. I can’t find my voice at first, and I honestly think I might faint. Neither one of them has seen me because they are so engrossed in having intercourse with each other. And then I find my voice. “What the heck?” I scream, and I grab the nearest object, which happens to be one of Walker’s boots. The girl screams and leaps off of Walker, and I chuck the boot at Walker’s head. He yells and rolls over, and the young girl grabs the sheet and wraps it around her.
Oh, it’s Willow Green. “Carly, please,” Walker pleads as he pulls on his pants, his face twisted with remorse. Willow Green? “How could you?” I whisper, my traitorous eyes filling with tears. I did not want to cry. I’m stronger than this. Willow Green. She was being called the next Taylor Swift. She was eighteen and the new darling of country music. She was already a star in her own right, having won a CMA award for her first album when she was only seventeen. “I’m so sorry,” she confesses to me, bending down to grab her clothes. She shot Walker a scathing look. “You said she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow,” she snaps, before huffing out the door. I didn’t think I could feel worse, but I do. Walker had obviously planned this. “Carly, let me explain,” he says, coming towards me. “Don’t touch me!” I shriek, backing up. I need to get out of Walker’s house.
I turn and stumble down the hallway. I hear the front door closing, and I don’t want to see Willow Green hurrying down the steps of my fiancé’s house. “Carly! Please! Listen to me!” Walker yells, clearly frustrated. “What Walker?” I demand, whirling around to face him. “What could you possibly say? What possible explanation could you give me?” He stops and stares, and I know that I’ve caught him. He can’t explain himself. “It just sort of happened,” he explains lamely, “We met at the Bluebird last week, and one thing just led to another.” “Last week? You’ve been Willow Green for a week!” “I’m sorry! Christ! I’m sorry! It was stupid! She just seemed so into me, and she’s so charismatic, you know?” “No, I don’t know Walker! While I was home with my family, attending my grandmother’s funeral, and helping pack up her house, you were busy banging Willow Green. So please excuse me if I don’t understand!” “Carly, please. You and I are forever. You were meant to be my wife. It was just a stupid fling, nothing else.” I pause, and I suddenly see my whole life flash before me.
Walker and I were on the brink of a huge, successful career. We were about to headline our first tour, and had just put out our second album, which had been wildly successful already. We were the perfect country story – boy and girl make music, boy and girl fall in love, boy and girl are successful and get married. And I can see us, through the years, making music, but me always wondering if Walker was being faithful. If he would be checking out the new back up singer, or sleazing up to the newest country superstar, the next Willow Green and the one after that. “No, Walker,” I whisper, “I’m not meant to be your wife. I won’t marry a cheater.” I slide the beautiful ring off my finger, and choke back a sob.
That ring had symbolized so much for me and now it was just a piece of metal. My whole body felt terribly lighter once the ring was gone. I set it on the end table and turn back to Walker. “Goodbye Walker.” “G-goodbye? Where do you think you’re going?” “What does it look like? I’m leaving.” “You can’t leave! We go on tour in two weeks!” I shake my head sadly. I know I might be throwing my whole career away. “We aren’t doing anything in two weeks, Walker. As of this moment, Sideroad has officially broken up.” “You can’t do that!” Walker cries, “You’re under contract!” I’d forgotten about that part. Screw it. I would do whatever it took to get out of it. “I don’t care,” I seethe, “The thought of having to see your face everyday sickens me!” Walker stops cold, and I see my words have cut through him. But I don’t care. I turn and walk down his steps, refusing to look back.