Page 31 of Rock Bottom

“What are you doing?” I demanded, pulling myself up.

He jerked his head up so quickly that he smacked it on the bottom of the bed. “Oh, shit! You scared the hell out of me!” he muttered, rubbing his sore head.

“Sorry, but what are you doing up here?” I asked a second time.

He stood. “I was just cleaning.”

“Under the bed?”

Oscar gave a sheepish smile and adjusted his glasses. “I bent over to pick something up and my glasses fell off. Had to pick them back up.”

I wasn’t sure if I should believe him. His story seemed plausible, but he also wasn’t supposed to be up in the loft. Church had me bring my trash and laundry downstairs so Oscar didn’t have to go up there. It was my private space, and it felt awkward to have him there.

Oh, relax, Dante. It’s not like the guy is some mustache twirling villain. I mean, what could he possibly be up to? Stealing your dust bunnies and sniffing your underwear? He wasn’t exactly giving off creepy vibes. He was just a curious guy who probably wanted me to sign something for him.

“I just thought that since you were asleep downstairs, I shouldn’t disturb you, and Church wasn’t around, so I came up here and…” His face fell. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be up here. I won’t disturb you again, Mr. Deluca.” He rushed past me for the ladder, head down, shoulders slumped in defeat.

I immediately felt bad. This poor guy was a fan, and he probably thought I didn’t like him. “Oscar, wait.”

He paused with one hand on the ladder.

I twisted my fingers together. “You can call me Dante. And I don’t mind if you come up here. But if Church finds you…”

“I know, but I thought…” He trailed off, shoulders falling with a deep sigh. “Never mind.” He turned to go back downstairs.

“Wait!” I jumped up and Oscar paused on the stairs. Great, now I have to decide what to say to him. I picked at my fingernails a second before offering, “I’m sorry about Church. He can be a little…”

“Overprotective?”

“He’s just doing his job.”

Oscar turned back around with a wince. “I’m not going to get fired, am I?”

“Oh, fuck him.” I sat on the edge of my bed and patted the chair near my desk. “I’m not going to let him fire you for being a fan. Sit down. Let’s chat.”

Oscar smiled the biggest smile and practically floated to the chair, sitting on the edge of it with his hands folded between his knees. “I can’t tell you what an honor this is. I can’t believe I’m even here. I really am your biggest fan.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Yeah, um… Well, Oscar, can I tell you a secret?”

He nodded excitedly and leaned forward even more.

“I’m just a guy,” I said. “I put my pants on one leg at a time.”

Oscar chuckled. “See, that’s what I like about you. So modest. All those other guys, it’s like they forget where they came from. Not you.”

“Yeah.” I looked away and rubbed the back of my neck. “So, um, enough about me. What about you? Are you from around here?”

“Not originally. I grew up in Iowa. Some small town nobody’s ever heard of.”

“Oh. I’ve never been to Iowa. Is it…nice?”

He snorted. “Are you kidding? Iowa is boring. There’s nothing out there except corn, farmers, and more corn.”

“Sounds kind of like Ohio,” I said. “How’d you wind up here?”

Oscar shrugged. “Oh, you know. I just go where the work takes me.”

I frowned. Housekeeping didn’t seem like the sort of job people traveled across state lines for, but what did I know about it? I’d been a musician all my life, and that was all I knew. While my friends were flipping burgers and working as lifeguards, I was out on the streets with my guitar case open, playing for change.

---