Outside

by Michelle Mankin

  Heart beating frantically in my chest, I popped open the door and peeked out into the hall exhaling with relief that it was deserted except for the club’s bouncer.

  “Early night, Miss Bianchi?” he asked from his position beside the entrance to the stage.

  “Yeah, Paul.” I cocked my head to the side, mind blanking as I heard Linc’s voice. The song was old yet familiar. One birthed when I had still been a part of his life. I remembered it all. The rooftop club debut. The vintage van parked outside. All four band members and me all together in one motel room to save money. Ramon playing a complicated chord progression to warm up and then Linc adding in the words to transform the exercise into a song that would become both transcendent and timeless.

  That was the final cut of the evening. I couldn’t take any more. My knees went wonky beneath me. I grabbed the cool cinderblock wall for balance as the world seemed to tilt on its axis just as violently as it had back when I had first heard Linc crooning into a mic. Decadent. Dreamy. Breathy and utterly divine. Those same husky tones he used when making love to me. And seeing him and hearing him again after all this time was devastating to me because I had to face the fact that I still wasn’t over him.

  Tears burning behind my eyes, a sharp sob lodging in my throat that I was unable to speak around, I just shook my head at Paul and flew past him. Blasting out the backstage door and dashing through the alley I nearly dropped my hanging bag and purse several times in my zeal to escape, until I finally reached the brightly lit street lined with palm trees and crossed it to the club’s parking lot on the other side.

  My keys rattled in my shaking hand as I tried to locate the right one to open my car door. The key ring slipped out of my sweaty hand forcing me to kneel down on the asphalt in order to fish them out from beneath the undercarriage.

  Standing again I made a mental note to skip the designer dresses for a couple of months so I could afford to get the power locks fixed on my aging Accord.

  “Mona!”

  “Shit,” I exclaimed hand to my throat, spinning around, my wide eyed panicked gaze colliding with his. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Yeah?” A dark brown brow shot up and disappeared beneath his tumbled hair. “Serves you right for taking off on me like that. What did you expect?”

  I straightened to my unimpressive full height. Five foot six to his six one. “Lurking in the shadows. Showing up without warning. How do you figure I’ve wronged you?”

  Linc ran a hand through his hair while his gaze continued to travel the length of me making me feel stripped, naked and vulnerable. His perusal had always been intense. I resisted the urge to cross my arms to cover my breasts. The way my body still reacted to his gaze as if it were a physical caress was ridiculous.

  “What do you want, Lincoln? Why did you come here? Why show up again after all this time?” I tossed my hair over my shoulder affecting nonchalance I did not at all feel.

  His eyes were dark the way they’d used to be with desire when they lifted to meet mine. A trick of the light? He took a step toward me his expression entranced almost as if he didn’t even consciously realize what he was doing. My rear hit the car door as I backed away. I had nowhere to go. But I couldn’t let him touch me. I couldn’t. He would know the power he still had over me. I lifted my chin.

  “I don’t know.” His voice was low the words strained as if they had been hard for him to speak, making me believe they might actually be the truth. We had learned similar lessons in our childhoods that made it hard for either of us to share our truest feelings.

  “I’m sure you have some idea.” I arched a brow. “It’s been years, Lincoln.” His eyes narrowed. When I addressed him by his full name it usually meant I was angry. “How did you know where to find me?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Ash told me.” I dropped my gaze. Ashland Keys. His cousin. The drummer of the Dirt Dogs. My friend and sometimes confidant. At one time almost something more.

  Silence stretched uncomfortably between us. I could feel the weight of his stare on my bowed head. I was just about to tell him off and lifted my eyes to do so when I thought I saw something. Deep within his mesmerizing gaze. Something important. Something significant. Something I couldn’t afford to believe anymore. Just a glimmer but it was gone so quickly I convinced myself I had only imagined it.

  Another trick of the light.

  What we had was over a long time ago.

  Always a lie or a truth that had become a lie as other things had grown more important to him.

  Guys like Lincoln Savage weren’t for women like me. An equal. A former flame with expectations beyond just the night.

  Guys like him wanted young temporary little things who were dazzled by their fame, didn’t expect them to be sober and didn’t protest when they woke up alone in the morning.

  “What do you want, Lincoln?” Her question echoed in my brain.

  What I really wanted would send her running faster than she’d sprinted from out of the bar moments ago. The awareness, the attraction, the need, it was the same as it had always been between us. I wanted her. I wanted to dial back time to before I screwed everything up. I wanted her naked, her perfect rose tipped tits bouncing as I pounded into her so deep and so good she would never consider another. I wanted to taste her cherry flavored lips. I wanted her hair wrapped around my fist so she could never leave me again. I wanted…

  “Well Ash should have kept quiet.” She licked her lush lips and my mind went off on another tangent. Difficulty focusing was always a problem around her. “My business is none of yours anymore. You should have called first. I would have told you that I wasn’t interested. That we’d said everything there was to say already a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong, Linc. I wish you well, but I wish it for you well away from me.”

  She gave me her back fumbling again with her keys while I stared at her gut churning, hurt by her words and the memories. Frustrated by her reaction to me when I still wanted her so badly. Mad at myself for daring to hope that our reunion might have played out differently.

  “Alright, Mona.” My tone was terse. Her spine snapped straight. “Have it your way.”

  “Don’t call me that anymore.” She whirled around so fast her hair slapped her face. “It’s just Simone now.”

  “Ash still calls you that.” I frowned. I had overheard him on the phone to her periodically over the years on holidays or special occasions. Less since the funeral but every single time I caught their conversations I wished I hadn’t. The memories were just too bitter. It always sent me into a shit spiral of self-pity.

  “That’s different.” Her eyes flashed honeyed fire. “He’s a friend.”

  “Dammit, Mona.” I leaned in closer inhaling her sweet scent and nearly brought to my knees with desire. I wanted to have her. Right here. Right now. I had to curl my fingers into fists to keep from reaching out, grabbing her and reminding her how it used to be between us. Her lids lowered and her breathing turned ragged. Was she remembering, too, or trying to forget?

  “Go away, Linc.” Apparently the latter.

  “Maybe I can’t,” I admitted my voice raspy with stripped down need. “Maybe I don’t want to.”

  “Don’t.” She closed her eyes and her chin dropped. “Don’t do this to me.” She wet her lips. They visibly trembled. Even though I knew I had upset her I still wanted to kiss them. “I’m not one of your groupies easily flattered by your bullshit. The fact that you’re a big rock star doesn’t impress me. I know who you really are Lincoln Savage. I’ve seen you at your best and I’ve survived you at your worst. So don’t think you can come here and play games with me.” Her chin came up and her eyes blazed anew.

  She was so beautiful when angry. I wasn’t playing games, not really, but it was obvious she wouldn’t believe me. Wouldn’t believe the truth if I had been brave enough to verbalize it in that moment. So I fell back on the pretense, my excuse for being here tonight.

  “They want to use �
��Save Me’ in the new Donavon Blaine film.” I finger raked my hair out of my eyes. “You sang it beautifully tonight by the way.”

  She shrugged always so quick to dismiss her talent.

  “I could produce it and split the royalties with you fifty-fifty.”

  “You can take it. It’s only really half mine anyway.” Her expression was hard. “But take all of it.” I felt the words she didn’t speak…the way you took everything from me. “I don’t want any part of it. I especially don’t want or need anything from you. I don’t need the aggravation.”

  “It has the potential to make a lot of money, Mona.” My words were clipped, my tone terse. “The Blaine franchise is huge. He’s America’s James Bond, for God’s sake. And their offer is very generous. It’ll generate residual income for both of us for years to come.”

  “Be that as it may. I still don’t want anything to do with it.” She shook her head fiercely the sun lightened tips of her hair brushing the top of her tits that looked fantastic in her pink Roxy tee, but would look even better out of it. “Do you need me to sign something?” Her voice rose. She seemed panicky about the whole situation. “I’ll sign it to over to you right now. I have a pen and paper in the car.”

  I got angry. I knew she was really rejecting me, not the money. My next words came unfettered and unkind. “Yeah I guessed you’d react this way.” Stubborn. Proud. Beautiful. Why did I think she would ever give me the chance to be the hero again when she had already recast me as the villain? “Once a sheltered rich girl, always one. What’s a couple of hundred thousand to you anyway? Right?”

  “Not a girl anymore.” She turned her head. “Far from sheltered. Certainly not rich.” She muttered something additional under her breath but I didn’t catch it with the noise of the traffic behind us and her face turned away. She got the door unlocked and I stepped back as she swung it open. My thoughts scattered as she bent over and I recalled another time when she’d been in that position for me. I squeezed my eyes shut but it was too late. Blood rushed south so fast I got light headed.

  “Here.” She snapped something in front of me. “Take it.” I opened my eyes taking the paper she thrust at me my fingers brushing hers in the process. Close proximity to her and my imagination were making things difficult, like trying to get a fix on a wave set on an uncharted beach. Touching her reawakened my body and my soul. The latter had been dormant for years.

  My eyes continued to burn intently as I stared at her. So much of who she was seemed to be locked away now. I couldn’t read her the way I once had. I didn’t know a lot. I had told her the truth when I had admitted that. But one thing I did know. I cared for her like no other woman since and I wasn’t going to walk away from her. Not this time.

  “The lawyers won’t accept this.” I crushed the paper in my hand. Pure embellishment. “They’ll need to draw up something official. I’ll get them to do that. Then I’ll bring the documents to you.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Have them fax it to me.”

  “No electronic signatures. Those don’t stand up in court.” More misdirection. “Why are you making this so difficult, Simone? What are you afraid of?” I pressed but she didn’t respond. “I’ll bring the papers to you tomorrow.” I pretended to give in. “The sooner this is taken care of, the sooner you can get me out of your life again. That’s what you want, right?”

  My view of the blue water of the Pacific was framed by the t-shaped one half mile long concrete Ocean Beach Municipal Pier on my left and the rocks of the South Channel Jetty in the distance on my right. I sat on my blanket on the beach cradling the warm mug in my hands as I listened to the waves. Even with the sun barely awake the morning after my run-in with Lincoln, there were already several surfers standing on their boards their fins stirring up trails of foam behind them.

  My thoughts drifted back to last night churning the way the sand did within the tide.

  “…that’s what you want. Right?”

  I couldn’t afford for him to find out just how wrong his supposition had been. Seeing him again after all the years had jarred me out of my comfortable drifting on the periphery groove. It had taken me a long time to get this far, too ridiculously long to smooth the waters after all that had happened. I needed to right the course. Only ridding myself of him once again would allow me to do that.

  Chulo’s squeaky bark broke the cycle of my musings, like rubber soled sneakers on a gym floor. My diminutive Havanese was the only male I allowed to have access to my heart anymore. His black and white pom pom ears flopped in the breeze, his curly plumed tail wagged behind him as he bounded back and forth on the beach, stopping periodically to rear back on his three and a half inch hind legs to pounce on crabs who dared to encroach upon his beach domain.

  I looked up as a shadow fell over me blocking out the sun’s early morning rays.

  “Hey, Simone.” Recognizing the interloper Chulo abandoned the crabs, raced over and pranced happily around the dripping surfer. He flashed a smile as my Havanese hopped around on his back legs like a miniature dancing bear.

  “Morning, Patrick.” I set my mug of coffee to the side, gathered Chulo to my chest, buried my face in his cloud of fluffy fur and smothered his cute face with kisses before setting him back down.

  “Mind if I sit here with you for a bit?” Patrick asked.

  “Not at all.” I scooted to the side to make room while he used his long zipper string to pull off his hood. He shook out his dark glossy mane of hair before he plopped down on the blanket beside me. I offered him one of my doughnuts but he made a face and waved a hand in refusal. Patrick was very particular about what he put into his body. Me not so much. And it should probably be noted that Patrick’s body was every bit as alluring as his hair. Surfing was a good all-around workout. Patrick in his wet suit gave testament to that fact much as Linc had when similarly attired in the days when I used to sit on this very same beach to watch him carve up the waves.

  “You’re here late this morning.”

  “Uh huh.” Distracted I reached for my cup surprised to discover it empty. I set it aside sighing as I watched Chulo scare a flock of seagulls into flight.

  “Chulo seems happy enough. So what’s eating you?”

  I turned to look at him. His grey as the Southern California fog eyes were steady on mine. “What makes you think I’m upset?”

  “Your forehead is all scrunched up. It gets like that at the first of every month whenever the bills are due.” Patrick was more observant than I gave him credit for. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he read my mood so easily. We’d been friends long enough for me to know that he had a keen mind to go along with his quirky sense of humor and startling good looks. He was every woman’s dream but for some reason enjoyed spending most of his time with me. “Do you need any help in the store today?”

  “No thanks. Not today.” When we were busy or I had somewhere else to be during business hours Patrick was always willing to lend a hand. But it hadn’t been busy this month. I couldn’t afford the help and his comment about the bills reminded me that I had more pressing problems than what to do about my ex.

  Reluctantly I stood and called for Chulo. He came running right away his thick fluff flying back from his masked face.

  “You can talk to me, Simone.” Patrick rose, too, towering over me. “I might be able to help.”

  Doubtful. Patrick meant well but he was just a kid about the same age as I had been all those years ago with Linc. Well, no need for my thoughts to go there. I put my hand on his arm pasting on a smile. “You working at Hodad’s today?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got the four to nine shift.” He looked at me as if he wanted to say something more but decided against it. “I can bring you a burger during my break.” The surfer staffed restaurant was just a couple of businesses down the main drag from mine.

  “That would be really nice. Thank you.” I hadn’t bothered with grocery shopping the night before even though supplies were as lean as my bank a
ccount. It had been all I could manage to get home from downtown without having a car accident along the way. Lincoln Savage was not easily dismissed. Then or now.

  Patrick nodded and loped off. A group of young bikini clad teens sitting with their legs dangling over the beach wall turned their heads to track him as he scooped his board out of the sand and jogged up the wide concrete steps to the street level. He took the sidewalk past them toward a nondescript paint peeling down to the bare concrete three story apartment building beside the pier where he shared a one bedroom unit with three other guys on the top floor. Looks and condition aside, rent with a view was expensive in Ocean Beach.

  Patrick waved at me before he crossed under the pier. I waved back before shaking out the sand from my blanket, folding it and tucking it under my arm.

  I still didn’t know what I was going to do about Lincoln but I couldn’t afford to waste anymore headspace on him. I had work to do.

  I clipped on Chulo’s leash and took the same steps Patrick had to the street level on my way to work. As I passed the public parking lot I waved and returned greetings from other early morning surfers donning wetsuits from the backs of their vehicles.

  Palm tree lined Newport Avenue started at the beach and led to downtown OB ‘s eclectic mix of shops. From ice cream to bars to psychedelic themed international hostels to tattoo shops, we had it all. The wide range of colors and shapes was unusual in California where most town zoning was uniform and strict. But we weren’t a conventional SoCal town. We had too many free spirited, thumb your nose at the system types to be one of those. But we looked out for each other as though we were one big family. That was one of the reasons I had returned.

  The bell to the shop jingled as I pushed the glass door with my name etched on it to let myself in. I flipped on the lights and surveyed the small retail space that I had painstakingly arranged, though admittedly not as artfully as the previous owner. The girl’s Roxy section was mostly pink, orange and black attire and swimsuits, while the other half of the shop was for the guys and featured lots of grey and black, with Volcom, Hurley and Quicksilver gear featured. I didn’t have any surfboards but I had all the smaller accessories to support the lifestyle. Leashes. Surf wax. Booties. And an entire rack of rash guards.