Episode Two

Pale Blue Darkness

It was just another girl’s night out at the end of the summer, not unlike a dozen or so before it. Nachos at the bar, a live band and a little dancing with my friends. Little did I know that this particular night would be the start of something I had never anticipated in my wildest dreams. I am a firm believer that as people we are the sum total of our experiences, and this was one of those that you see other people having. Beautiful people on a big screen, the kind of drama that has a musical score that accentuates the rising, and falling action, and all of the plot points. This was no movie, it was my life and it was about to be turned upside down.

It was a Saturday night and I was waiting for my friend Chrissy. We had met over the summer at work, and immediately clicked. She was easy to talk to. We quickly became good friends. Chrissy was a pretty girl, with blonde wavy hair, and brown eyes. She was fun to be around, and we could talk for hours about pretty much anything. I had recently ended a long term relationship, had a brief summer romance, but for all intents and purposes, I was a free woman ready for an adventure.

Tonight we decided it would be a new location, a small restaurant and bar a town over. It was a little place right on the water called The Dunes. Locals galore hung out there in the colder months, but it was packed with college kids this time of year. There is a live band playing on this particular evening adding to my excitement. Music has always been something that has moved me on a very basic level, especially live music. It’s something that is a part of my creative process, and I can’t write a word without it.

We sat at the bar munching on appetizers, and chatting about our week at work. It’s a fairly tiny place, and we are only about twenty feet from where the band is loading in. Around our age, there are four of them. Two of them were working pretty efficiently loading in equipment, getting set up, and the other two seemed way more interested in the girls at the bar. The drummer stood out immediately, he was tall, blonde, with long hair, and attractive muscular arms. Working methodically he was assembling a most impressive set of drums with a silver sparkle finish. Looking a little more closely, there was a very shiny rack of sorts that arched in a half circle around where he was to sit. To this he was attaching other shiny hardware, twisting and turning butterfly type fasteners that resembled my little brother’s Erector Set from childhood. Deliberately and skillfully he worked, and it was obvious he had a system to what he was doing. His arms were strong and tan, and on the inside of his left forearm there was a black and red tribal tattoo about seven inches long, somewhat resembling a spider shape. A little edgy, but somehow it suited him, and I caught myself thinking about tracing it with my finger.

“Scarlet, look at that guy!” Chrissy interrupts, “He’s cute.”

“Cute? Are we, still in high school?” I think.

She’s pointing towards the only other one actually helping to set up equipment. He was working on a keyboard setup, and he was a little more conservative looking, and shorter than the drummer. Light blonde, short hair. Admittedly handsome, but not really my type at all.

“You can have that one,” I tease.

Chrissy giggles and sips her cocktail, and I return my gaze back to the drummer. Completely set up now, they are starting a soundcheck, terminology I have become familiar with over the summer. Funny, I would have never noticed any of this before working at The Atrium. At this point the Drummer Boy, as I have now dubbed him, is smiling at a girl sitting on the other side of the bar perpendicular from we are. He nods, and she clearly returns his look of affection very pleased with his attention. I’m a little more disappointed than I would ever have admitted.

“That one is off the market,” I whisper to Chrissy.

She follows my gaze over to the drummer and then to his admirer.

“That’s a shame, he’s cute too,” she replies.

“It’s ‘Hot’ Chrissy, not cute,” I scold.

She laughs and the bartender asks us if we want another round of drinks. Out of nowhere the guitar player materializes like a vampire at our side.

“So, you hanging around for the band?’ he enquires.

This one is decidedly shorter than the other two, and is sporting what can only be described as a full blown mullet. Someone needs to inform him that the eighties are over, and that Joe Dirt wants his hair back! Instantly Chrissy gets that starry look in her eyes that girls get around anyone famous, or in this case, maybe a little infamous.

“Yes!” she gushes.

I give her a mental eye roll smiling politely, and then his wingman arrives. Clearly the biggest player of them all, Mr. Tall Dark and Dangerously Handsome in my estimation, with a focus on the dangerous part. His skin is porcelain white, as if he’s never been outside during the day, with jet-black, shortish hair with a bad boy goatee. This is oddly a very attractive contrast on him. Mullet Boy acts like a vampire, yet this one looks like one! When he makes eye contact with me, his eyes are deep sapphire blue, penetrating, and he actually makes me squirm a little inside.

“This is Jacks, my bass player,” Mullet Boy says.

“Jacks plural like the game?” I question.

“Jacks short for Jackson,” he corrects me coolly.

Although I’m irritated a little, there is something about this one I can’t quite put my finger on. Then a girl I don’t recognize barrels right in between us throwing her arms around him, possessively. He hugs her back, rocking from one side to the other shooting me a look that is tantamount to a shrug, and I wriggle up my nose at him in distaste. Smiling at me even wider now in amusement, over her shoulder, he plants a firm palm on her backside. She giggles, and ineffectively pushes at his hand in mock outrage. Rolling my eyes for real at him this time, I turn back to Chrissy who is taking this all in, still under a ridiculous star crossed spell of sorts.

“He’s HOT,” she declares looking at Jackson.

She’s obviously a little tipsy, clearly her judgement impaired, and at this point I resign myself to being the responsible one tonight. This is how we met the boys of Absolute Value, not knowing it was going to be a very long, and interesting winter, and I would not be the responsible one for long.

***

That first night I was quite successful at keeping my distance from Jackson “Jacks” from Absolute Value. My instincts told me I really shouldn’t tangle with him, although there was something oddly seductive about him. Truthfully, I was having a little difficulty expunging him from my mind. Each and every time I stole a glance his way, he caught me. His facial expression said all I needed to know. Suggestive, he leered at me, and again it made me squirm. I did my best that night to shower my attention on the two hardworking, normal members of the group. It turns out Drummer Boy’s name is Keaton and he was just about the nicest guy I had ever met. Quiet, unassuming, and very diligent, he practically loaded out all of their equipment at the end of the night himself. Attentive he was to the girl that was with him, and I’m not sure she really deserved him. The keyboard guy, was also the lead singer. Nick was sweet but very shy, and that would seem counterintuitive to the way he performed. On stage he was clearly a leading man, and extremely talented. He made it look easy, in fact, they all made it look easy. I had to admit they were tight, and very polished for a local band. It wasn’t at all difficult for Chrissy to talk me into another night out.

On the second night they were playing at a different location than the first. Kannon’s was a whole different atmosphere. It was a big place, and when we arrived I wondered if they were going to be able to draw a big enough crowd to fill it. By eleven the place was packed. I was genuinely a little impressed, again. Mullet Boy who I later discovered was Chris, spotted us immediately, like one of those annoying sales people who are on you the second you walk into a store. I left Chrissy to deal with him, and sprinted towards the bathroom. Upon my return she was at the main part of the bar shamelessly flirting with Mullet Boy. He had a twitchy way of talking that made me instantly distrust anything he was saying. Chrissy was hanging on every word however, and I busied myself with ordering a cocktail and ignored both of them as much as possible. Luckily I hadn’t seen Jacks anywhere and that was just fine with me!

“Scarlet, Chris and Keaton want us to go to breakfast with them after the show?” she is pleading.

Mullet Boy is watching my reaction sizing me up carefully. This was not a thrilling thought, but at least it wasn’t Jackson, so I agreed to go. Keaton was safe, as he was otherwise taken, but I did wonder where his little groupie was tonight?

“Yah sure,” I agree.

Instantly, I worry I’m going to regret this.

***

The night ended up being fun. Later, we were joined by a couple of other friends. I successfully avoided Jacks and Mullet Boy for most of the night. It was Chrissy’s turn to be the “Designated driver.” It was an easy decision to enjoy a couple of cocktails, and let down my proverbial hair a little. I love to dance, and I spent as much time dancing with my friends as I could. There is something about getting out there, and losing myself in the music that has always appealed to me. I’m athletic, and although I have a four year old daughter, I’m in good shape. On a good night, I can out dance even Chrissy. She majored in dance in college, and has a degree in performing arts. The night passed quickly and soon it was time to head out with Chris and Keaton. The margaritas I had consumed over the evening had smoothed out the sharper edges of my self-discipline. Deciding to get a little fresh air I’m standing just outside the club away from the smokers when Chrissy approaches me.

“Scarlet, it seems we have a bit of a wrinkle,” she confesses.

“Big wrinkle or little wrinkle?” I ask.

“Keaton’s girlfriend showed up, and Jacks will be going with us instead?” this is more of a question.

“No! Not Jacks” I implore her.

“Please Scarlet? It’s just breakfast,” she begs.

“You know he kind of creeps me out?” I argue.

She’s pleading with her eyes, and I feel really torn because I know she really likes Chris, AKA Mullet Boy, and I don’t pretend to understand it. I take mercy on her, and against my better judgement I concede. Just then Mullet Boy and Tall Dark and Dangerous pull up next to us. I’m trapped.

***

Breakfast was fairly uneventful and I did my best to be pleasant. Jacks was actually very polite, and down to earth in this particular setting. I relaxed a bit. The little breakfast diner we ate at was right next to the beach. After we ate it was decided we would all go for a walk on the beach. It’s late by this time, but Olivia was with her father overnight. I didn’t have to worry about getting back for the sitter. Chrissy and Mullet Boy take off in another direction, and I wonder how that will ever work, Chrissy and Chris? That just sounds dumb to me.

“So you have a daughter?” Jack’s enquires, popping my thought bubble.

The night is warm and humid, the sky is fairly clear, and it's almost a full moon. The water is calm and there is only the gentle swishing sound of the waves lapping against the shore. We walk slowly along the shore with our shoes off. There is something about the sand squishing between my toes that I find oddly soothing.

“Yes, she’s four,” I acknowledge.

I don’t really like getting into personal stuff about Olivia with just anyone. One great thing about Taff, he never pressed me about anything too private, and I appreciated that about him. Jacks is regarding me attentively, and I glance sideways at him. Stunning was the only word that came to mind. If the contrast of his dark hair and light skin was dramatic in the club, it was even more so now. Night was clearly his element, and he looked a bit ethereal in the moonlight. I got a little bit of a chill, and shivered suddenly. Jacks notices this immediately, like a shark sensing blood in the water.

“Are you cold?” he questioned.

“Maybe a little,” I admit.

He turns and wraps his arms around me, rubbing my back. This, I didn’t have time to protest. He’s tall and has long arms. What is it with me and arms these days? He smells good for someone who played three sets, a little too good. We stand there for a minute in silence, and he does that rocking thing I saw him do the first night we met.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I blurt out.

I look straight up at him daring him to lie to me. Cue the deep penetrating eyes in the moonlight, and add a dark chuckle. Suddenly I feel a little vulnerable, and I shiver again. He smiles tenderly at me, and I am a little taken aback.

“I’m not going to bite,” he says softly.

“I know that!” I snap petulantly.

“Are you always this combative?” he chides.

“I am not combative!” I retort combatively.

“No?” he laughs.

“Touché!” I think. 

He raises his eyebrow, and unleashes his most winning smile on me yet. This is disarming, and also distracting. How many girls fall prey to this? He can’t be serious. How much of this is a routine, or is he for real?

“Everyone will warn you to stay away from me,” he confesses.

I’m searching for any inkling of dishonesty, and as a rule, I’m pretty good at reading people. There is a hint of sadness in what he is saying. I want to ask him why. I want to ask him a number of things, but I don’t. Maybe it was the fact that I was lonely, and missing Taff. Maybe it was that I was tired, and he had just worn me down. Shivering, I stood there looking into his handsome face. Here, I stopped caring what was real. It was in this moment that I decided it didn’t matter to me for whatever reason, and I let down my guard. Reading my thoughts, his arms closed around me a little tighter, he was warm, solid, and I just went with it. Slowly, not taking his eyes off of me, he closed the distance between us. When his lips met mine they were warm, and a little demanding, his facial hair soft, adding to his allure. He was intoxicating, and when the kiss ended it left me wanting more. As my eyes fluttered open, I wondered if this was what drugs were like?

***

Looking back I wish my older, wiser self could somehow time travel, and warn my younger more naïve self what was about to be on my horizon, but that is not how it works. Truthfully, maybe when I think about it, everything that I experienced was just how it should have been, for it was that path that lead to the most precious things in my life. Growing is never easy, and there is never a short cut to the future. If you are lucky your experiences can be exciting and thrilling in the moment, preventing the difficult ones from stinging quite so intensely. If you are super fortunate, maybe there is also a practical lesson in it that strengthens one’s fabric to resist the strains of life that tend to sabotage future success, and happiness. A spell was cast that night on the beach, and the only way it was to be broken was to follow the journey to the end of the line through every twist, and turn. Hindsight was the only key to the future. Most days I was an ordinary mother, and hardworking adult trying to put the pieces of her broken life together. The road of a single mom is not easy, and I wanted so much to travel down the right roads, and do all the right things. Likewise, a different kind of force pulled me in other directions, and it was that part of myself that was about to bubble to the surface of my reality, and challenge me in a way I had never been challenged before.

A few weeks passed before I saw Jacks again. I didn’t want to give him the impression that I was another of his groupie conquests. One weekend I insisted to Chrissy that we actually go see a different band. Frankly, they weren’t as good, and the night was boring. The second weekend in September would find us back at The Dunes on a Saturday night. I dropped Olivia off early with her dad, and I was a free agent for the rest of the weekend. September is my favorite month of the whole year, with warm days and crisp evenings, it was a picture perfect time. Sitting at our premier spot at the bar watching the boys load in their equipment once again, I chat pleasantly with Chrissy. Keaton, always the first to arrive, spots us, and is all smiles in our direction.

“Have you heard anything from Taff?” Chrissy asks.

“No, and I really don’t expect to either,” I answer glumly.

She really doesn’t understand this, and I can’t explain it to her. There are some things in life that come, and go that are not to be repeated. Taff was one of those.

“You and Jacks seemed pretty cozy a couple weeks ago?” she changes the subject.

“Let’s be clear, I’m here tonight for you,” I lie to myself.

Glancing over at Keaton, he is working skillfully assembling his drums as usual. Always content and happy with what he is doing. Nick is the second to arrive smiling in our direction as he heads over to assist Keaton. Next up is Mullet Boy, and I know the instant he enters because Chrissy’s energy level spikes from zero to one hundred as soon as he is anywhere in her orbit.

“Way to play it cool,” I nudge.

“You need to learn to live a little,” she retorts.

She bounces off her chair to greet him immediately, and I have to admit he is obviously happy to see her. I have my suspicions that Jacks is always the last to arrive. I’m sure this is by design. Spotting him out the window, I signal to Chrissy that I’m heading to the restroom. There is no way I’m going to have him think I’m waiting for him. Best to keep this one guessing for as long as possible. From the ladies’ room I can hear their soundcheck, and I take my sweet time surveying myself in the mirror.

My hair is a little longer than over the summer. Effects of the sun and salt water are still evident with a vignette of blonde streaks around my face, falling loosely in waves over my shoulders. I’m wearing my favorite pair of jeans, and sea green, silk blouse with a sweetheart neckline. I keep my jewelry simple with a gold locket that contains a photo of my daughter, and my favorite earrings. Simple and elegant has always been my motto, and I have achieved that in spades tonight. I apply a little lip gloss. Music fills the air spilling into the room as the door opens, closes. They have started their first set. Satisfied, that I have cleverly implemented my plan, I return to the bar.

I spot Chrissy already on the dance floor, as I order myself a margarita.

“This one is on Jacks,” the bartender informs me, shouting a little above the noise.

Pointing over my shoulder, I turn to see Jacks beaming victoriously at me from the stage. Raising my glass in a thank you gesture, I’m fifty percent flattered, but the other half has the urge to dump it right on him, as soon as he is in range. Who does he think he is anyway?

***

The first set ends and the boys scatter from the stage. Having the sudden desire to disappear again, I realize Chrissy has me penned in. Jackson moves his way through the crowd with intention. No small achievement since he is stopped every couple of steps by some female fan who wants a little piece of him before he moving on. He arrives at my side and grabs my hand.

“Follow me,” he prompts.

Pulling me through a door I didn’t even realize was there, we move through the kitchen, out the back exit, and around the building to a dock. There is a bit of a chill in the air, but the water is calm, and peaceful. Stopping, he turns to look at me, and I have to concede he is breathtaking. Once again silhouetted by the clear night sky, and the glistening water, he is totally in his element.

“Is this where you take all your girls?” I challenge.

“Defiant, I like it,” he quips darkly.

Unfortunately, I don’t have my drink to dump on him because I have already consumed it. Instead, I just stare up at him a little angrily. I’ve never known anyone who can make me feel equal parts outraged and enticed all at once, and I don’t have any idea just what to do about it. Jacks gently touches the hair framing my cheek, tracing it to my shoulder and then down to the locket resting on the skin just bellow my collarbone.

“You really are beautiful,” he reflects.

Seriously? Is he kidding me? Floored would be an understatement of epic proportions, and once again I find myself seriously questioning if he is at all for real. Stumped for any kind of witty reply, I turn away from him to catch my breath.

“You are right to question things,” he confesses, “People will warn you about me.”

I turn back to him and wonder if I am that obvious and transparent, or is he that good at reading people? Probably it’s a little of both.

“It’s complicated?” I test.

Without a word he hoists me up onto the railing of the dock, and intuitively I hook my legs around his. My arms fall gracefully around his neck. Face to face, his arms close around my waist. All traces of my opposition retreat as our lips meet again, and this time I’m claiming what I want. Lacing my fingers through his hair, my heart skips in my chest as he holds me even closer. Every nerve in my body alive, and in tune with the rhythm of his breathing, rising and falling quicker now. Momentarily encapsulated by our yearning, until the sound of a door opening, and then closing dissolved our little kernel of privacy.

“Maybe not that complicated,” he whispers.

Hopping down, I follow him back into the humid building. Back out in the bar where there are mobs of people, he grabs my hand and leads me to the crowded dance floor. They have a DJ playing music in between sets, and I’m thinking about the fact that he didn’t even ask. Turning, he puts his arms around me, I cooperate, but eye him with a healthy amount of suspicion. Swaying to the rhythm of the music he’s now observing me with a what appears to be amusement.

“Are you always this serious?” He asks.

“I am not,” I scoff.

“You are,” he insists, “And I don’t think you trust me,” he contends.

“Would you trust you?” I accuse.

His hand slides to the middle of my back. I reach around and grab it with my left hand, my right hand still around his neck. His eyes are brilliant and he is beaming at me in obvious delight, and I am pretty sure this is a little at my expense. His hand slides down slightly.

“Oh no you don’t!” I admonish him, “Keep your hands off!” I command.

Pulling me closer he buries his head in my hair, and I relax a little against him. The music ends, but before I can avoid him he plants a quick kiss, smack on my lips. Making for the stage he glances back at my shocked expression grinning all the way. Chrissy is waiting at the bar for me with an expectant look on her face.

“What?” I ask guiltily.

This is when I notice a pair of eyes boring into me from the other side of the bar, and I quickly recognize the girl from the first night.  Chrissy notices this exchange, and glares back at her.

“Groupies,” she jeers.

“Aren’t we groupies Chrissy?” I laugh.

Although I’m not thrilled about the fact that I’m possibly dating a diva musician, I have to admit to myself that he has a certain charm about him. Being swooped out to the back of the club and kissed under the stars was a little thrilling. Never, would I give Jackson the satisfaction of knowing I felt that way.

***

Second and third set were more of the same, but if I am being honest, I was having a lot of fun. Each time I stole a look at Jacks on stage he nods, and grins. Heat would rise up into my face in a hearty blush. There was even an occasion or two where I might have smiled back. At the end of the night Chrissy decided to take off with Mullet Boy, and left me to the devices of Mr. Tall Dark and Dangerous. I am certain this is some kind of conspiracy on their part. Completely relaxed at this point, I’m resigned to just go with the flow. Equipment loaded and packed, Jackson and Keaton were inside talking to the club owner when I decided a little fresh air might be nice. By the end of the night, the clubs always smell of stinky feet like a locker room. That’s when she corners me. The girl from the bar with the glaring eyes that I had seen Jackson hugging that first night. Instantly, I disliked her.

“You seem like a nice girl, so you should know he’s not the loyal type,” she warns.

Staring straight at her I can see now that she’s not the most attractive girl. Her skin is rough and her features a little harsh like a smoker, and I imagine in daylight it doesn’t get any better. A visage that communicates she has not had an easy life, as the stresses are enumerated in the creases on her face, giving her the look of being older than she is.

“And I suppose you would have firsthand knowledge of this?” I ask.

“You bet I would!” she snaps.

Jackson and Keaton come walking out of the club to find us standing there.

“What are you doing Angie?” Jackson demands.

Keaton looks concerned and he makes his way over near me, as Angie turns on Jackson glaring at him furiously, jabbing her finger at him.

“You should tell her the truth about you!” she shrieks.

“You should stop drinking so much,” he snarls back.

“How about once you get in her pants, you’ll never call her again?” she slurs.

A brief awkward silence is suspended in the air before Angie babbles on lumbering at Jackson, teetering sloppily in her heels. She drapes her arms around him clumsily.

“Come on baby, my roommate is out tonight?” she poses.

Jackson steps back repulsed, and Angie tumbles to the ground. Enraged, she gets back on her feet unsteadily, leering at him.

“Are you going to get her pregnant too?” she wails.

Stunned, I stand there looking from one to the other trying to make sense of what is happening, but I realize it doesn’t matter. I want nothing at all to do with it.

“Keaton, can you drop me home?” I ask.

Angie smirks at Jackson, “That’s right honey, you don’t need his shit!”

She stumbles about ten feet and gets into a waiting car with her friends and they take off. Jackson turns toward me. He looks completely miserable. I turn quickly and start marching away towards Keaton’s truck.

“Scarlet, just let me explain,” he begs.

I spin back at him.

“You know Jackson, I don’t care, I don’t have time for this, I have serious responsibilities, I have a tiny human that depends on me!” I raise my voice a little, “What do you think I am?”

He stands there visibly anguished by my words, contemplating what is next. Keaton is frozen to his spot, arms crossed just taking all of this in like the boy scout that he is.

“I’ll make sure she gets home safe, brother,” he Assures Jackson.

Why do they all call each other brother? They are not actually brothers!

Without looking at him I get in the truck aggressively locking the door and fastening my seatbelt. The “Brothers” exchange a few words and Keaton gets in the truck with me, and starts the engine. At this point I’m fuming, feeling a strange mixture of outrage and humiliation. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, and I’m willing myself not to cry. Unsuccessfully, I try to give Keaton directions without letting on that I’m upset. He is silent focusing on the road, and he pulls up in front of my house.  

“Angie is insane,” he quietly offers, as if to reassure me.

“I must be insane,” I sniffle.

 “Crazy, delusional ‘superfans’ come with the territory,” he discloses.

“Thanks for the ride,” I answer cordially.

***

That night as I lay in bed alone reviewing the night, I have trouble settling down to sleep. Was I too hard on him? I didn’t give him a chance to explain. My worst nightmare is engaging in a spectacle, and that is exactly where I ended up. I’m not sure that’s exactly Jackson’s fault. There in the pale blue darkness of the early morning, is the image of my Mother scolding me.

“This is what happens when you associate with those types of boy’s Scarlet,” she would say. Her frosted lipstick bleeding into the wrinkles around her mouth. It was just such a moment when I would think to myself that it was her words that made those kind of boys so attractive. If I am going to hell in a hand basket, I may as well make the trip with a dark and handsome traveler.

Although in my heart I wanted to forgive him, I just can’t change stations that quickly. It takes time for me to wind myself down, and exercise the uncertainty from my mind. I had been letting all my calls go to voicemail for a couple of days, and focusing on other things. Chrissy was so exasperated with me she just showed up at my place. It’s not that I wasn’t convinced that I should give Jackson the benefit of the doubt, it was that I needed some time to process how I felt about the whole situation. My record to date with men wasn’t the best, and I wasn’t ready to go rushing into something without time to think it through. Maybe I also knew that as soon as I was near him, all of my sound judgement would just fly out the window. Probably the latter, and in that spirit I stalled as long as I could. It’s not like he would be starved for attention or company anyway. Ultimately I agreed to a date on neutral ground. When the night arrived I felt oddly uneasy, and nothing seemed to go right. Meticulously, I polished my fingernails, and before they dried, one got smudged. As I was trying to fix the one, cotton fibers started sticking to the others, and I had to start all over again. Hopefully, not an omen of how my night would go.

Jackson insisted on taking me out on a proper date this time. Truthfully, I was a little relieved since it would be more public. Olivia was off on an overnight play date, because there was no way I was even close to having Jackson meet her. He arrived promptly, way out of character for him. A little shocking if I am being honest. He took me to a quaint little bistro in the center of town. Upscale and fancy, but small and private, a place that has the comfy upholstered booths, linen napkins, and candles on every table. He actually seemed a little nervous, like he was trying hard to be disciplined. As we were seated he insisted on sitting on the same side of the booth next to me. That was a first for me, and I have to grant him a thumbs up on that particular maneuver. Dressed in jeans and a black shirt that coordinated rather nicely with his jet black hair, he was once again flawless to look at, and he smelled even better than he looked.

Holy Mary, Mother of God help me! I pray, not really believing in that!

As dinner ends, and the wine has had a chance to cover my thoughts in a generous amount of reverb, the conversation turns a little more sober as if to add a little contrast to the moment.

“About the other night,” he starts.

“Honestly, you don’t owe me an explanation,” I interrupt, “It’s really none of my business.”

“Scarlet,” penetrating and heartfelt is his tone, “I’m different with you,” he fidgets a little, “I mean… you make me feel like I want things to be different, I’m done with all that crazy stuff.”

Conflict darkens his face and gone is the charismatic hubris that is his trademark, and strangely I believe him. Not knowing what to say to this, I stay in the moment.

“Thank you for tonight,” I smile, “This is really sweet.”

Relief sweeps over his face, and he grasps my hand, and this is all it takes. A torrid of chills is released, climbing up my arm washing all over me, and I am back at that place where none of it matters. All I can think about is what it would be like to have him undress me… slowly, and how I want him to kiss me again. True to his ability to anticipate my thoughts, he does. We are back in our bubble, where no one else exists, and when the kiss eventually ends, our eyes meet.

“You want to get out of here?” he asks.

As if he needed to wait for me to answer.

***

The fervor continued in Jackson’s Jeep after we left the restaurant, and one could have cut the sexual tension in there like a slab of decadent chocolate cake. It seemed to take forever for us to arrive at the destination Jackson had in mind. We traveled down multiple twisting, and winding roads to a location I did not recognize. It was remote, dark, and to be completely honest, I was feeling a little worried about what I had gotten myself into. Finally the Jeep stops, he flashes me a wicked grin that I pretend to ignore. Now this is the Jackson I know, the one that has a clever plan, and has plotted out all the contingencies. Since I am a logistics girl myself, I am feeling a little admiration for him, but there is no way I’m letting him know this. Jumping out of the Jeep he opens the back where he has stowed a couple of blankets, and a bottle of wine. Throwing the blankets over his shoulder, he grabs my hand with the bottle of wine in his other hand, and starts for the woods.

“This way,” he winks.

“Where are we?” I squint through the trees.

He leads me a short distance into a clearing, realizing we are on a putting green tucked way up high on a hill, at the edge of the trees, I let out a deep breath at the view. Down below there is a sprawling golf course and country club, and beyond that the ocean. Twinkling lights dot the vista below us. He spreads the blankets out, and pulls a small cork screw out of his back pocket.

“Well, aren’t we just full of surprises?” I jest.

None of this is really that surprising to me, and I wonder just for a second how many times he has brought someone here? As quickly as that thought occurs to me I stop myself. Nothing is going to spoil this moment for me. This is unequivocally the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me in my life, and I’m making mental notes of everything. Like in a movie, we sit quietly sharing sips of wine, and chatting easily. There is a little chill in the air and he wraps the extra blanket around me. I turn to look at him and he is studying me deliberately.

“What?” I giggle.

Feeling a little tipsy, this seems funny to me.

 “I see the way they look at you,” he touches my cheek.

“They?” I question, squashing more giggles.

“Other guys,” he strokes my hair.

“Please,” I scoff.

Jackson searches my face silently for what seems like an eternity.

“You are not like any girl I’ve ever known,” he proclaims.

Earnestly he gazes at me, and when he kisses me again it’s as if the world came to an abrupt stop on its axis. Once the kiss ends, my lips are swollen with intention. His breath sweet with the wine as the world starts to spin again. Reclining slowly onto the soft blanket, I knock the bottle of chardonnay over spilling it.

“Leave it,” he murmurs.

The flames return, ignited by the touch of his fingertips on my now sensitized lips, spreading down my neck, and simmering in my core. How many kisses would this be? I’ve lost count. Our lips again conjoined in a flurry of emotion and provocation. His skin is radiant in the luminescence of the night. I relieve him of his shirt, not at all disappointed in what I find underneath.  Intoxicated is the only word I have to describe how he makes me feel. He gingerly undoes my blouse. One button at a time. All of the toying, and banter that has led us to this point is unleashed into our little universe. The hot and the cold meet in a ferocious storm of wanting. His body and mine twisted under the stars with the ocean waves in the distance keeping time to our movements. Closer and closer we get to each other until the boundaries between us retreat. Before long we are curled up, warm and safe under the blanket looking up at the heavens above, a comfortable stillness between us. There is really nothing left to say that our bodies have not already divulged. There in the pale blue darkness of the night, clarity and peace take hold of me, and for the first time in a very long time, I am no longer feeling lonely, for once I feel whole.

***

The weeks pass like a magical fairytale, my days hum by, and the nights I spend with Jackson are more of the same nimble, push and pull of us trying to one up the other. This is usually where the romance novel ends and the hero and heroine live happily ever after. I’m seriously thinking of at last introducing Jackson to Olivia, but I should have known better. Fairytales are not real, and the one thing that is inevitable in life is change.

The second weekend in October Absolute Value has a big show. A national act is coming to town, and the  boys have been booked to open for them. There is excitement in the air. Jackson is beside himself elated. I have promised to clear the whole weekend to be at the show, and of course for celebrating afterwards. Chrissy helps me shop for the perfect outfit, and we have the evening all planned out. The show will be at Kannon’s and everyone in town will be there. We meet Mullet Boy and Jackson at load in. We have those plastic lanyard back stage access passes, so that we can get in and out without tickets. Once we have secured our laminates, Chrissy and I head out for a bite, but I am so excited I can’t really eat.

Arriving back at Kannon’s we slip right through security with no issue and the guys are about to head onstage. Jackson spots me and watches as I work my way through the crowd towards him. At long last I get to him in front of the stage. He throws his arms around me. I peer up at him. He looks particularly amazing tonight.

“Hey,” I greet him.

“Are you here for an autograph? The line is over there!” he jokes.

I role my eyes, and give him a little slap.

“I can't even compliment you, it goes straight to your head!” I admonish.

“Just a kiss for good luck then?” he raises his eyebrows.

As if he even had to ask.

Cinched in a steel embrace, highlighted by an invisible spot light, the crowd recedes on pause, and mute. He pulls away, my eyes open, and our gazes lock. He then turns and walks behind Keaton onto the stage in dramatic fashion.

It’s a fairly big setup, although I am sure the national band has scaled back their equipment significantly. No matter, it was a big deal for a small town band like this, and I am thrilled for them. As they begin playing we hail down a cocktail waitress, and order my usual margarita and Chrissy’s cosmopolitan. They sound great, and I admit to myself, we are having the time of our lives. Jackson is eyeing me with his usual derpy looks. The set is going really well, and I’m on my second margarita which is kicking in a little overtime.

“I need a water,” I yell near Chrissy’s ear, “You want one?”

She nods in agreement. I make my way around the back of the club where there is a lot less activity, and as I round the corner of the bar, I run smack into Taff!

***

Now that I think of this, it makes perfect sense that he would be here. This is a national group and why wouldn’t he bring them back to his hometown to support the local music scene? Of course that is exactly what he would do.

Just breath Scarlet, and don’t act like an idiot! He has no idea why I am here, and what does it matter anyway?

Taff takes a small step back, and is trying to read my flustered appearance, but instantly there is the twinkle in his eye. We are wearing the same laminate passes, and my suspicions about why he is here are confirmed.

“Llewlen Bradford.” I greet him.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore, and tired eyes,” he affirms.

“I’m here with Chrissy,” I offer, “What brings you to town?”

“I’m here about the band,” he remarks.

Nodding, I suddenly realize my head is feeling a little fuzzy. Remembering I haven’t had my water yet, I am at a total loss for what to say. The only saving grace in this awkwardly insane moment, where my two separate worlds are being gobsmacked violently together, is that Taff has no idea why I am here, and Jackson has no idea about Taff. Besides, I don’t owe either of them the slightest explanation anyway. Taff took a pass, and he was history before I even met Jackson. On the other hand, I would be a liar if I didn’t admit, at least to myself, that Taff still has his usual effect on me. This is disconcerting. He is so good at reading me, so all I can think of is to exit as quickly as possible.

“Chrissy is waiting for her water,” I motion back towards the stage.

“Right,” he acknowledges.

I know he is totally sensing my apprehension, and I am feeling wretched with what I am about to do, but I have no other choice. Anything short of a clean break will just mean weirdness and pain for all involved.

“Good to see you,” I lamely respond.

“Sure,” he nods.

He is visibly disappointed and deflated and I’m heartbroken that this is where I have to leave it.

***

Why is life always a feast or famine proposition? One minute I am completely alone, and isolated. Now the last six months of my life are converging in on me. By some miracle I manage to avoid a complete calamity on this particular evening, and I let out a huge sigh of relief once Jackson is loaded out, and packed. Heading back to my place he looks completely worn out. As soon as we get in I start cooking, and he has come to love this about me. Hastily I am preparing his favorite, my own spin on nachos. Setting the table I see he is looking through Olivia’s toys in the corner of the living room.

“I had one of these!” he exclaims.

Looking over at him I see he is holding up her Etch a Sketch, and this makes me smile.

“It’s a classic,” I agree.

Now he’s examining the portraits of Olivia on the wall, carefully one by one. There is one for each year; a newborn, a first year, her second birthday, her third birthday, and most recently her fourth birthday photo.

“I still can’t believe you’re a mom,” he muses.

He moves on to my book shelf and examines each title carefully. Beyond my love of romance, I had been on a strong female, self-help kick for the last few years.

“I’m sensing a little bit of a feminist theme here,” he notes with a chuckle.

We sit down to eat, and he takes a survey of the table, and the food I’ve carefully prepared. There is one thing that I have come to understand about men, that is always predictable: They love to be fed. Jackson is no exception to this rule.

“Are you sure you are ready to meet my little doppelganger tomorrow?” I ask.

“Yea!” he replies “I love kids!”

I eye him with a bit of skepticism, but appreciate his enthusiasm none the less. Perhaps finally I can relax just a little, and maybe the tattered pieces of my life are coming together. I plop myself on his lap, and throw my arms around his neck. I give him a most genuine and loving kiss.

“You never fail to surprise me Jackson Albert Lockhart,” I bait him.

“Oh no, not the full name,” he jokes, “Now you sound like my mother!”

“Well young man, maybe it’s time for bed?” I taunt.

He wraps his arms around me and taps me on my belly, looking seriously into my eyes.

“Maybe someday there will be a little Jackson doppelganger in there?” he utters.

My tummy does a flip like that feeling you get when a plane is descending and you feel like it has spontaneously fallen a few thousand feet all at once! I have no idea how any of this would ever work, but the logistics don’t need to be sorted tonight. I’m just rolling in the moment. He stands scooping me up, carrying me up the stairs, and normally I would protest and insist on finishing the dirty dishes, but like Chrissy says, I need to live a little!

“Oh… and remind me tomorrow to tell you about our new manager,” he mentions casually.

“Don’t forget to tell me about your new manager, tomorrow,” I giggle.

I am nibbling on his neck, trying to distract him, as he makes his way up the stairs with me in his arms. He really makes this kind of thing seem so easy. I flip the light switch off with the tip of my toe showing off a little, because there is no way I’m going to let him always be the clever one in this relationship!

“Yah, Llewlen Bradson, or something,” he remarks.

A chill washes over me and I stiffen.

“Bradford,” I correct.

“So you met him tonight?” he responds with a smile.

“Something like that.”

The End