Heartbeat Braves

by Pamela Sanderson

  “Did you hear the one about the van full of Indians?” Jack said.

  No one said anything.

  “I guess she’s right,” Jack said.

  Henry wanted to tell her she looked nice but he didn’t want to say it in front of the guys.

  “How do you all know each other?” Rayanne asked.

  “Henry brought this thing together,” Jack said. “He and I have known each other since we were kids. He met Sam in college and Cody at his job at the trucking company.”

  “You sling parts, too?” Rayanne asked Cody.

  “I’m a mechanical guy,” Cody said. “I’m helping Tommy with the bus.”

  “You’re already doing it,” Rayanne said to Henry, nodding in approval. “Bringing Indian people together. That’s what the job’s about.”

  “What exactly is this place where you work?” Jack asked.

  “Watch out, she’ll get you involved, too,” Henry said.

  “Why not?” Rayanne said. “We can always use volunteers. It’s an urban Indian center. We do services for Indians in the community. A lot of healthcare programs. Referrals. Transportation. This and that.”

  “That’s for anybody?” Cody asked.

  “The center is for Indians in the city,” she said.

  “So what’s this guy doing?” Sam asked, gesturing at Henry.

  “We’re moving to a bigger building and, to celebrate, we’re doing an arts festival. Henry is in charge. There will be different artists and a stage with traditional music and dancing.”

  “And that’s where we would be playing?”

  Rayanne raised an eyebrow at Henry. “Well, the idea for the festival is leaning more toward traditional.”

  “How do you define traditional?” Sam asked. “Isn’t culture evolving? Aren’t there traditional things you’re doing now that are modern?”

  “I’m not going to argue with you on that,” Rayanne said. “But this is a small-scale event intended to introduce the community to urban Indians. Not a showcase on evolving culture.”

  “But you don’t think it’s a terrible idea to bring in contemporary native music,” Henry said.

  “Rock and roll, hip-hop fusion is native music?” Rayanne asked.

  “It is the way we do it,” Sam said.

  “Why not bring in more modern music?” Henry said. “We’ll attract younger people to the festival. I thought the point was to bring attention to the center.”

  “Talk to Linda and Uncle Arnie with your great idea,” Rayanne said. “Mine’s not the final word.”

  The party was at a house on a large lot screened with trees and shrubbery. The hosts said as long as they didn’t crank the sound too loud there wouldn’t be a problem. Henry helped the guys haul the gear in. He was disappointed that the party wasn’t too big. They were building their fan base ten at a time. He spotted a couple of friends and grabbed them to help with the set up.

  From the way she talked about herself, he expected Rayanne might be shy but as soon as she was through the door she was introducing herself to people, and taking a beer that someone offered.

  “I’ll find you after the guys get going,” Henry told her. She barely glanced at him she was so busy talking to a woman that Henry recognized as Jack’s on again, off again flame. If she was here tonight, they must be on. Or else she was stalking him. Either way, Jack liked that kind of attention.

  It didn’t take long to get everything set up. Folks from inside made their way to the yard and filled the area in front of the stage.

  “Everybody ready?” he said into the microphone.

  The heavy landscaping gave the yard an air of privacy. He spotted Rayanne in the back by the house, leaning against the wall. A guy went to stand next to her and a hot spike of something—jealousy, protectiveness, surprise—hit him in the chest. The guy leaned down to say something and Henry recognized the expression on her face. She leaned up and said something back and the guy moved away.

  Henry smiled at her but she didn’t see him.

  “Everybody get ready for the Beat Braves,” Henry said.

  “That was a lame intro,” Jack said. He worked from side by side laptops that he and Sam had modified. He hit a sequence on the keyboard and the beat started, followed by Cody’s guitar.

  Henry pushed his way to the back where Rayanne was. She let him grab her hand and pull her deeper into the crowd. He found a place where she could see the stage. He situated her in front of him.

  They were using the backyard deck as their stage, and there was little room for the guys to move up there. Jack stood in the middle, a rhythmic shimmy going from his shoulders to his hips. The three of them took turns with the lyrics. The beat made the ground vibrate.

  It didn’t take long for the party to warm up. Everyone around the stage danced. At first Rayanne didn’t move, and he expected at any moment she would tell him she wanted to leave. Or explain why this wouldn’t work for the festival. Or announce she would be reading a book inside. But she rocked back and forth on her feet, her movements growing until she was dancing in front of him. Every so often she would brush back against him and, as much as he wanted to grind his entire body into hers, he let her meet the distance. They would brush together and apart. She wasn’t that much shorter than him but she had on heels. He leaned his head down to the side of her neck. She smelled amazing, like citrus and summer. He put his hands on her hips.

  She turned her face and pressed it close to his ear. “You said this was business.” She smiled when she pushed his hands away.

  “It is,” Henry said. He stepped back.

  “I’m glad I’m here,” Rayanne said.

  For the rest of the night, Rayanne stayed close to Henry but not close enough to touch. Those few moments of bumping together when the music started sent an electric jolt through every part of her body. She wanted his hands on her hips and his body pressed against hers. He threatened all the emotions she kept reined in. She was unaccustomed to this kind of sensation and it made it tough to keep her head.

  But she needed to hold it together. Bump and grind was not what this night was supposed to be about. And charming and sexy as Henry was, she did not want to get into a casual thing that was going to cross over in the middle of her work life.

  She kept him in her side vision so she wouldn’t miss him dancing beside her. His body never stopped moving, rocking side to side. She could tell he was keeping an eye on her too.

  The band couldn’t play too late and the party broke up soon after they stopped.

  In the van on the way home, Jack put her on the spot.

  “What did you think?”

  “I liked it,” she said. And she meant it. “It wasn’t what I was expecting. I didn’t realize the lyrics would be like that. Writing about home and pride and respect. Issues that are meaningful to Indian people.”

  “Maybe a good fit for the festival after all,” Henry suggested.

  “Maybe,” Rayanne said, even though she still disagreed.

  “Our songs are about boning, too,” Jack said.

  “I got that.”

  Jack said it to embarrass Henry and it worked. Henry kept his eyes on the road.

  “Anyone getting lucky tonight?” Jack added.

  Rayanne laughed. “When I talked to your squeeze, Nicole, she said she was picking you up at your place but she wouldn’t wait forever. So, you?”

  “Sounds like it,” Jack said. When they pulled up to Rayanne’s apartment, he said, “Make it quick, you two. No groping at the front door. No long goodbyes.”

  Rayanne was grateful they had the band there to keep any lingering impulses from taking over.

  “It’s not a date. I don’t need to be walked to the door,” Rayanne said. “I liked the show, guys. Thanks for inviting me.”

  Henry got out of the van and went around to her door. “I’m going to walk you to the door anyway.”

  All the tension that had diffused gathered up again into a white-hot knot in her center. She wou
ldn’t meet his eyes. The quiet jibes from the back of the van countered the effect. But not as much as she would have liked.

  Henry kept a respectful distance but didn’t try to rush.

  “You’re not worried those guys will drive off without you?” Rayanne asked.

  Henry held up the keys. “I’ve learned my lesson on that one.”

  They stopped at the bottom of the staircase that led to her door.

  “I can tell you’re not convinced yet,” he said.

  At first she thought he meant about him. She wanted to see how he would persuade her. He had the power to change her mind.

  “We’ll talk about it,” he said. “Maybe? With an appropriate playlist? No final decisions have been made. Agreed?”

  The band. They were talking about the band.

  “Agreed.”

  They both jumped when the van’s horn sounded.

  “That’s my ride,” Henry said. “See you?”

  “My grandpa wanted you to come meet his drum group. He said they need some fresh blood.”

  “What do they need my blood for?”

  Rayanne smiled. “One way to find out. Would you want to go tomorrow?”

  “I would.” Henry smiled back. “See you then.”

  22

  The minute she saw him, her desire reignited. How had this guy gotten under her skin? He insisted on driving to Grandpa’s. He plugged the address into his phone, and shot across town like a person who had grown up there. He kept one hand draped over the wheel. The other slapped out a nervous rhythm against his thigh.

  “Are they going to make me sing?”

  “Do you want to?” Rayanne tried to identify a cross street to check their progress but she didn’t recognize his route.

  “No. I can’t sing.”

  He wore what might be considered a dress shirt. It was made of a shiny fabric in a shade of green that she wouldn’t expect him to pick. He had on a pair of well-worn jeans that made it hard to stop imaging tearing them off of him. Dancing together had unhinged something that she couldn’t get hinged again.

  She let her window down and sucked in a big breath.

  Focus.

  “You never sang with a drum group?” she asked.

  “Not big in our family tradition. I like consuming music. Modern music. I like making playlists. Searching for something I haven’t heard before. Checking out clubs. Performing is not my thing. Are you musical?”

  “Nope. Can’t sing. Can’t play an instrument. Grandma wanted me to learn piano but they didn’t have one. They made arrangements for me to practice at the church after school, which I never wanted to do. It’s hard to get good without practice. I don’t like to do things I’m not good at.”

  Henry hesitated at the intersection. He flipped the turn indicator to the right and then turned it back off. He didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Before you comment, I know exactly where I am.” One street lined with houses and duplexes blended with the next.

  “Have you met Gus’s band of musical elders?” he asked.

  “Briefly. They’re all a bunch of characters. Grandpa has known Earl since we moved here. I’m not sure how the rest of the group got together. They helped inspire me to want to do things for elders. I want them to have a social place.”

  “But they found each other without the center.”

  “But who knows what elders are out there who don’t how to find each other?”

  “I guess.” Henry pulled onto a quiet street and took a left turn. He pulled up to Grandpa’s apartment building.

  Rayanne checked back the way they came. “How did you do that?”

  Henry shrugged. “Ancient Indian secret.” He came around and opened the van door for her.

  He took her hand and helped her from the van, that small point of contact sending a jolt through her body. Her heart sped when she met his eyes. The tension threatened to unsteady her. Two steps and she could be in his arms.

  She forced herself to push past him and head into the building.

  She knocked on Grandpa’s front door, her heart still thudding in her chest. After a minute, she unlocked the door and peeked in. “Grandpa?” She swung the door open. There were signs of disorder. The bed was unmade. A saucepan sat on a burner, and a couple meals’ worth of dishes sat in the sink. The bathroom door stood open, and there was a balled up towel on the floor.

  “He’s usually standing here waiting for me, carrying his giant backpack of mystery. I have never been able to learn what all he carries with him when he goes to visit his friends.”

  “Maybe”—Henry had to clear this throat—“Maybe he had other plans.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. He’s a grown man. He’s not helpless.”

  Henry had a point. But it wasn’t like Grandpa to miss a get-together with his friends. Or not to be around when he expected her. She checked the calendar he kept on the refrigerator. He had terrible handwriting and used a system of abbreviations she couldn’t make sense of, but the day’s date said in shaky block letters, drum.

  “Does he have a cellphone?” Henry asked.

  “I bought him one of those cheap pay-by-the-minute phones for emergencies. He either forgets to charge it or forgets to turn it on. Other times he doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t know how to check the messages.”

  She got out her phone and dialed it anyway. A quiet chirp sounded near the door. Grandpa’s rain jacket hung from a hook. Henry dug around in the pockets until he found the phone.

  “Success,” he said, holding it up.

  “We want to find Grandpa, not his phone.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he ran to the store, or took a walk and lost track of time. You said he likes to make friends with everyone. He’s probably talking some poor guy’s ear off right now.”

  She could picture his face, lit up with joy while he told one of his stories, thrilled to be telling it to someone who hadn’t heard it before. He would be careful not to pause too long and give his listener an opportunity to break away.

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “I guess I could tidy up while we wait. And I can make sure his bills are paid.”

  “Woman, leave the man his dignity. This place is tidy enough. He can ask for help with his bills if he needs it. We can sit here and visit until he gets back.”

  Rayanne took a deep breath. She walked around to the couch and picked up a fleece blanket that was scrunched up among the cushions. She folded it up and spread it over the back of the couch before she sat down. She gave Henry a look, daring him to comment.

  Instead, he sat down next to her, his leg brushing against hers. Whatever grasp she had on her resolve, it was dwindling fast. Henry came across like a lazy guy but he was working out somewhere. Those thighs were all muscle, flexing against her. He glanced down at the place where they were touching and scooted over.

  Her mind flicked to a scenario where she was making out with Henry on Grandpa’s couch. She stifled the idea as best she could.

  “Has anyone ever said something strange to you about being Indian?” Henry asked, his voice uneven.

  Rayanne could hardly think with the desire fogging her brain. “Like what? Some people are taken aback that I don’t have an Indian name. What’s wrong with the name I have? No one ever says to an Italian, ‘What’s your Italian name?’ Do you?”

  “Jack claims that some girl in college begged him to knock her up since her kids would be Indian and could get all the free government benefits. I find it hard to believe any woman would beg Jack for sex but it’s too crazy to make up.”

  “What free government benefits?”

  “Exactly. I had someone tell me that I wasn’t like a real Indian. I guess he thought I needed to live in a teepee and wear a headdress to be legit.”

  “That would have made me furious,” Rayanne said. “Like if we’re not like the Indians on TV, we’re not real. I’m also amused when random people tell me they’re part Native American Indian. Like
we have something in common. I want to tell them there’s a difference between Indians with white ancestors and white people with Indian ancestors.”

  “You can’t explain that to most people,” Henry said.

  “I’m not going to stop trying.” Rayanne got up and looked out the window. In the time that they’d been there the light started fading from the sky. The streetlights would be on soon. “He doesn’t like to be out at night. His eyes are terrible and he doesn’t move fast. Why don’t we go look for him?”

  “Where would you even start?”

  She could only think of all the things that could have gone wrong. What if he got lost, or fell down, or someone drove off with him. Did old people get abducted? Henry was right. She couldn’t guess where he might be. But looking somewhere was better than sitting and waiting.

  “I’m going to walk to the bus stop and then to the park. I’ll come right back. You wait here and call me if he comes back.”

  There were two bus stops that Grandpa might use. The closest one was two blocks away on a busy street. She walked as fast as she could while the sky faded to purple. An older woman sat at the bus shelter but ignored her when she asked about Grandpa.

  She continued up the street to the park. The basketball courts were lit and one of the groups paused to hear her query before shaking their heads and restarting their game. The dread crept in and shoved everything else aside. What if they couldn’t find him? She couldn’t make herself think about that part.

  She decided to check out the other bus stop on the far side of the park. She rarely felt unsafe in the city but the escalating worry and the growing pockets of darkness increased her unease. She ran until she reached the bus stop, but the bench was empty. She sat down to catch her breath and calm down.

  When her phone rang, her heartbeat increased again. It was Henry. “Did he come back?”

  “He called here. Tell me where you are. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go get him.”

  Grandpa was at a bus stop that was temporarily closed. A big orange notice was fixed to one side of the bus shelter but from where he sat, it looked like a regular stop. A woman about Rayanne’s age sat with him.