by Vi Keeland
“Are you into enigmas?”
I laugh his harmless flirtation off, but all I can think is…shit, I’m into enigmas.
I sat around talking to Flynn on that park bench for almost another half an hour. He told me one of the lost ‘Twinkle Twinkle’ verses, but refused to tell me the others. He promised I’d get the remainder of the classic song when I was done with my performance. My reward—which he’d grace me with after I sang. It meant he was planning on staying for my performance, monumentally increasing my crowd by twenty percent, from five to six. Oddly, it gave me more comfort than stress to know he’d be there.
That didn’t mean I spent the remainder of the night in a calm state—not by any means. I dropped another tray, screwed up half my orders and gave my last customer twenty-six dollars change from his eight-dollar drink…that he paid for with a twenty.
But I made it through without running away, at least. And now, as I stand here locking the door while the last patron stumbles from Lucky’s, I feel my nerves fraying at their ends. A body comes up close behind me in the narrow hallway. I know who it is without turning around, yet I’m so jittery it doesn’t stop me from jumping.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you again.” Flynn’s voice is low, soothing.
“I’m just a—”
“I know. That’s why I followed you out here. Figured you might either sneak out the door behind the drunk guy who just left, or could use some calming.”
“I’m still here.”
“I noticed. So I figured I’d give you a small reward now.”
Umm…yes, please.
“Oh yeah?” I turn around and face him. “And what is my reward for not ditching out?”
Flynn leans in, every hair on my body standing to welcome him into my personal space. Traitors. I feel his breath on my neck as he whisper-sings into my ear.
Then the traveler in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark,
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.
Verse four. He’d given me verse three on the park bench.
A minute ago I was on edge at the thought of getting up on stage. Now I’m on edge for a totally different reason.
“It’s beautiful. Such a shame I didn’t know about it all these years.”
Flynn’s eyes wander to my mouth. “It sure is.”
Before I get on the stage, I think back to when I was seven. My dad took me to a public pool out on Long Island. He was busy laying drum tracks for a studio album with his band. We’d passed the pool for three days before he got to take me. I stared longingly at the high diving board each time we drove by. I was a good swimmer—hotel pools were one of my favorite parts of traveling with the band—but I’d never been on a high dive board before. I was an anxious mix of excitement and nerves. By the time we walked into the fenced-off pool area, I could barely breathe. I wanted to back out. But Dad was excited to take me, and I didn’t want to disappoint him. So I sashayed right over to the long line and forced a smile back at him as he waited by the edge of the pool. When it was my turn, I quickly climbed the stairs. Even more quickly, I walked toward the end of the board, telling myself I was just going to keep walking. Rip off the Band-Aid of fear I wore with one quick tear, and walk right off the end of the board. I made it three steps from the edge. Then my knees froze and crippled me. I couldn’t take another step.
This time is no different. My audience of six sits patiently in their seats while I stride confidently toward the stage. Of course it’s false confidence, but I work it anyway. Reaching the edge of the stage, which is only three steps off the ground, I actually climb the stairs with spring in my step. I make it two steps toward the center of the stage. And my knees freeze. I’m seven years old all over again.
I take a few deep, cleansing breaths.
They don’t help.
I close my eyes and try again.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I need to do this. Eight years. It’s been eight long years. I love to sing. Picture having the one thing that you love more than anything in the world right in front of your face every day. Only it’s behind a wall of impenetrable glass and you can see it, but you can never reach it. Never touch it. That’s how I’ve felt the last eight years. But my knees…they just won’t move.
I close my eyes and try again. I want this.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
The pounding in my chest gets louder. It feels like my heart might really explode. I reach up and rub at the tightness.
I start to sweat.
The room is eerily quiet, yet I know there are six people sitting only feet away.
“Lucky,” Avery says in a soft voice. She’s testing the waters, unsure of how I might react.
Hearing her voice doesn’t pull me out of my panic, but it does calm me a bit. I swallow and force my eyes to look out at the room, without giving myself time to mull it over.
Avery is cautiously watching me. She attempts a smile over her worried face.
Through a fog, my eyes drift to the others in the room. There’s Jase; Levi, the DJ from tonight; and two of our friends. They’re all sitting together around a table, trying their hardest not to look disturbed by my display, but their faces can’t hide their concern. Then I look over their heads and my eyes fall on Flynn. He’s leaning casually against the back wall and he smiles at me. I try to smile back, but fail miserably.
Thinking I could use a major distraction, my eyes trail lower. Down Flynn’s neck to his tatted arms folded casually over his lean, masculine chest. I skim his narrow waist and my eyes linger on his jean clad thighs.
And then I see it.
He’s barefoot.
I can’t remember any man ever doing anything so sweet for me in my entire life. Except maybe the man he’s channeling.
Staring down at his feet, my focus shifts—I’m not thinking about being on stage…about that last day on stage. Instead, I’m staring at Flynn’s wiggling toes and thinking, Damn…even his toes are sexy.
The corners of my mouth tilt upward and my eyes follow their lead. Flynn’s beautiful blue eyes dance with triumph—he knows he’s gotten to me.
A minute later, I sing for my audience of six. Four verses of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
The elation we all feel when I’m done morphs into three hours of celebration. The sun is coming up by the time we all stumble onto the street from Lucky’s. I throw my arms around Flynn’s neck and hug him tight, thanking him for the twentieth time. He hugs me back just as tight, I notice. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol, the emotions of the night, or just the man I’m clinging to, but for some reason, I don’t want to let go. Being in his arms soothes me, makes me feel something I haven’t in a long time. I can’t put my finger on what that something is, I just know I like it. Maybe a lot.
Too soon, Flynn hails Avery and me a cab and kisses me sweetly on the cheek before helping my swaying body into the car. I’m disappointed he doesn’t join us—I’m not ready for the night to end. Not ready for whatever is going on between Flynn and me to end. Halfway home, I realize he never told me the fifth verse.
I don’t have to wait long. Just until the text comes the next day.
Chapter Eleven
Flynn
I walk the short distance to Becca’s rather than back to Nolan’s place to crash. No doubt there’s a party at Nolan’s that will still be in full swing, with the ratio of men to women heavily tilted in the band’s favor. But I’m just not in the mood to continue the festivities with a bed full of groupies tonight.
I use my key to slip into the apartment quietly, careful not to wake anyone. On my way to the guestroom, I pass by Laney’s room. The door is open, so I peek my head inside. She’s sound asleep, snuggled up to the giant Elsa she suckered me into buying last time I was here. Damn, she’s adorable even when she sleeps.
Blinds drawn, the guestroom is pitch dark, even though the sun is already crossin
g the horizon outside. I don’t bother to pull back the covers, instead lying diagonally across the plush comforter my sister keeps ready for my unannounced arrivals. I inhale a deep breath—I’m tired, ready to let my body slumber until my niece realizes I’m in here and pounces on me bright and early.
Without standing, I strip to my boxers and toss everything to the floor except my phone. I thumb off a quick text before powering my iPhone down.
In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.
The sound of Laney’s giggle is almost always how I wake when I sleep at my sister’s. But not today. Instead, it’s the constant buzz of the high-pitched doorbell. Someone is either standing in the hallway pressing the button insistently every two seconds, or the thing is broken, with the sound on the fritz. Covering my face with a pillow doesn’t drown out the noise enough to let me ignore it. For the sake of whoever is on the other side of the door, the damn thing better turn out to be broken.
“God damn it,” I grumble. Without even bothering to look through the peephole, I whip the door open. The anger I was feeling from being woken only gets worse when I see the asshole who was pushing the damn buzzer.
My brother-in-law.
Or, more correctly, my ex-brother-in-law. What Becca ever saw in this douchebag is beyond me.
“What the fuck?”
“Nobody answered.”
“Maybe that means no one is home. So leave, asshole.” I begin to push the door closed, but Douchebag sticks his foot in the door.
“Are they home? Rebecca and Helaine.”
“Bec and Laney.” God, this guy is such an uptight prick. Professor Douchebag. “I don’t know.”
“How can you not know? The place isn’t that big.”
“I was sleeping. And yeah, the place is pretty small…compared to the palace you live in with your twenty-two-year-old student. Or did you already cheat on that one and move on to a new crop of freshmen?”
He ignores most of my rant. “It’s four in the afternoon and you’re still sleeping?”
“I work nights.”
He guffaws. “Work? You sing a few songs and screw the swooning teenyboppers when you’re done. I’d hardly call that real work.”
I smile. And take a step into his private space, craning my neck down six inches to look him in the eye. “Why don’t you bring that new young wife down to the show so she can swoon over someone closer to her own age?”
“Fuck you.”
“Move your foot, or you’re going to have some broken toes when I slam this door shut.”
“Just get Rebecca.”
I take a step back inside the apartment and slam the door shut. I know Becca isn’t home, or she would have been at the door getting between us in two seconds flat. But I stroll through the apartment to double check anyway. Beds are made, no sign of Bec or Laney. The asshole is ringing the bell again before I even make it back to the door.
I enjoy the little pansy professor’s nervous jump when I whip the door open again. “They’re not here. Leave.”
“Where are they?”
“Out.” I attempt to slam the door again, but he sticks his damn foot in it again. That thing is definitely going to be swollen later. Who the hell wears loafers anymore¸ anyway?
“Can you give Rebecca this?” He offers an envelope.
“What is it?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Then give it to her yourself.”
“Just take it. It’s a check. For Helaine’s birthday party.”
“Not showing up again?”
“We have—”
I snatch the envelope and slam the door in his face. Luckily, this time it closes.
After a quick shower, and forgoing a shave in favor of two-day-old stubble, I power on my phone to find a response to the “Twinkle, Twinkle” lyrics I sent last night.
I might have hummed myself to sleep with a certain nursery rhyme last night.
The anger from Douchebag’s visit dissipates surprisingly easily. Before I can text back, my phone chimes again.
Thank you for last night. I wouldn’t have gone through with it if you hadn’t been there for me.
Glad I could help. Your voice is incredible. You belong on a stage.
You’re good for my confidence. ? I owe you one. Another voice coach session maybe?
You owe me one, huh?
I do.
Doing anything right now?
What did you have in mind?
I leave a note next to Douchebag’s check and an hour later I’m at her door.
“So how old is she going to be?”
“Five.”
“Five, huh. What types of things is she into?”
“Frozen. She’s pretty much obsessed with anything Frozen.”
Lucky pulls the front door closed and locks it. She drops her keys into her purse and smiles at me. “Well, I’m all yours. Where should we go first?”
All mine. I like the sound of that. “I was sort of hoping you’d tell me where we should go. I’ve never been a five-year-old girl.”
She leads me to a stairwell and I open the door for her to walk in front of me. It’s the first time I’ve seen her dressed casually. She has on those low-on-the-hip, tight black yoga pants that fit like a second skin, hugging the curves of her shapely ass. A white tank top and a three-quarter-sleeve denim jacket. Her feet are clad in aqua Chucks. I’m quite enjoying the view as we reach the landing three stories down.
She turns to speak to me, catching my eyes glued to her ass. At first I think she’s going to call me on it, but she lets me slide, opening the door that leads to the street instead. “How about FAO Schwarz?”
We’re stopped just outside on the sidewalk. People are coming and going in different directions. “Never been. Sounds good to me.”
“It’s probably about a mile and a half. Subway or walk?”
“I like to walk. But whatever you prefer.”
“Walk it is, then.”
Our conversation flows easily the first mile. We cover everything from her friendship with Avery to my starting the band in middle school. When we pass a CVS, she asks if we can stop.
“Hungry?” She empties the shelf of Hershey’s Special Dark bars and puts them on the counter. The cashier counts out nine.
“They’re hard to find. I was almost out. This chain is one of the few that stocks them.”
“And you need that many because…”
She shrugs. “I eat half a bar for breakfast every morning. I totally blame Mr. Hershey entirely for the size of my ass.”
“Remind me to send him a thank-you note.”
She shakes her head and tosses the bars into her purse. We’re two blocks away from the toy store, stopped at a red light, when we’re interrupted by a girl. Or maybe she’s a woman. Her body is all woman, I can tell, since most of it is on display, but her face looks young still.
“Excuse me. Aren’t you Flynn Beckham?”
It’s been happening more and more lately. After the reality TV show, I was mobbed for a while, but then things died down. Now, with the announcement of In Like Flynn joining the Easy Ryder tour, and the upcoming release of our next album, I’ve been getting a lot more attention from the tabloids. Which means street recognition.
“I am.”
Her eyes light up. “Could I take a picture of us? The girls in my dorm will never believe I ran into you on the street without proof.”
I look at Lucky and she smiles. I suppose she’s used to the attention more than I am. With her parents and…her boyfriend.
“Sure.”
The girl snuggles close to me, pressing her chest up against mine, and smiles as she holds out her iPhone and shoots off a dozen pictures.
“Is she your wife?” She glances at Lucky with a look of annoyance and then back to me expectedly.
“Umm…no.”
<
br /> “Can I buy you a drink later?”
I’m pretty sure I’ll never get used to being asked out. Lucky sees the discomfort written on my face and grabs my hand, weaving our fingers together before addressing the girl. “We may not be married, but we’re exclusive, sweetheart.”
Then she turns her attention to me. “Light’s green, honey.”
I grin and follow my woman’s lead, hand in hand.
“Thank you for that.”
“No problem.” She smiles. “You saved me yesterday. It’s the least I can do. But I think you might need to start wearing a hat and sunglasses.”
The rest of the way to FAO Schwarz, I never let go of her hand and she never attempts to pull it away. I open the door lefty, even though it’s an awkward, totally unnatural movement, just so I don’t have to give up the contact.
“After you,” I say. She walks through the door and then unexpectedly turns and starts speaking. She stops midsentence when she again catches my eyes glued to her ass. This time she doesn’t let me off the hook so easily.
“See something you like?” She arches an eyebrow.
“You have no idea,” I reply with a wry grin. “Is it wrong to say that you have an amazing ass?”
Smiling, she cocks her head to the side. “I’m not sure. Last week I was wearing those leather pants I just bought and I asked Avery how I looked. She made me do the spin move and then she told me my ass looked great. So I suppose it’s acceptable to give your honest opinion on body parts to friends.”
“Good to know.” Then I make a slow inspection of her—starting at the bottom and leisurely working my way up. My eyes linger at the sliver of skin showing between her yoga pants and the tank top she’s wearing. Traveling further, I openly steal what can only be considered a leering look at her full breasts and then, eventually, my eyes lock with hers.
She raises her eyebrows in question, but says nothing.
“I’m a good friend. Just wanted to make sure I was ready to give you more honest opinions on your body parts.”
She shakes her head. “Come on, pal.”
We spend more than two hours roaming through FAO Schwarz, yet I haven’t even picked out a gift for Laney’s birthday party tomorrow yet. The giant piano floor mat that I’ve seen in movies like Big kept us occupied for more than an hour. The two of us jumping around and playing real songs with our feet eventually attracted a crowd. Lucky grabbed my hand and whisked me away when she noticed some of the moms were whispering and taking out their cellphones.
