by Amber Burns
A woman in the twilight leaning against a white fence – like the kind behind Astra, and this dark-figured woman is embracing a shadowy man, her coat slipping off her shoulder, revealing an expanse of bare tanned flesh. The man is shielding her from the weather and from the world, but her sensual cries pierce the fog of the memory catapulting me into Astra’s arms.
She’s soft and warm, her lips right in front of me.
“Ryker,” Astra’s voice sounds far away. The ringing in my ear blocks out the rest of her words. Her mouth’s moving but I’m disconnected. To top it off, little dots of red sprinkle through my vision and I close my eyes, losing the image of my red-haired rescuer all together.
When I open my eyes, and blink away the fuzziness of the receding tunnel vision, I realize we haven’t moved. What felt like an eternity was likely a minute of panic. The attacks are shorter these days, even though they remain as strong as if I built a time machine and flipped the dial to relieve my shit-fest of a past.
“Are you okay?”
I nod once, hating the vertigo that comes with the gesture.
“Breathe. Just breathe,” Astra says as she smoothes the hair from my face, her fingers gentle and dedicated to their task. It’s has to be the kisses we shared, otherwise it’s unlike her. Yet, something about her gentleness suggests she’s done this before, many times.
How else could she look at a grown-ass man having a panic attack without disgust, or personal concern for her well-being?
Instead understanding brightens her eyes, rings from her voice as she asks again after my health.
“I’m fine.” I try to make it final, but like my attempt to pull from her, I don’t give it my all, failing before trying. I like how she’s holding me, even if it’s not doing my back any wonders. I’m leaning down, my head resting on her shoulder, hearing rather than seeing the smile in her words.
“It’s shock from the cold,” nudging my head up she peers into my eyes, her sweet breath smelling faintly of the sweet coffee mixture she was drinking. I finally blink, my contacts drying out from staring at her, memorizing those green flecks in her brown eyes.
Her phone ringing that jazzy tune drops her hands and draws her away, from me. “Holly?” she’s quiet for some time, and then she says, “Okay. I’ll see you soon then.”
“What’s the matter?” I ask. I want to focus on something else, afraid she’ll provoke me to divulge all my secrets if she gets me in another embrace.
“Holly wants to see you. Well, she asked about you. I didn’t tell her you were with me.”
“I think it’s better if I talk to her now.”
Astra purses her lips as if she’s considering a rebuttal. The thought of being alone and bored and adding the company of these memories forces me to say, “I’m going to have to explain myself at some point. It doesn’t feel right if I avoid your friend and leave her with some misconstrued guilt.”
That does it.
Conceding to my wish, Astra nudges her head towards the car. There’s a jerky quality to her movements, like she’s just realized we came down from mauling each other.
“You can drive me back to my car and, uh, I guess you can follow me to Holly’s,” she sounds weird…nervous.
I’m tingling from the vestiges of the panic attack. But it’s nice to cling to the idea of breaking her professionalism, driving her as wild as she does to me, simply by standing there.
“Let’s take my car for now. We’re only visiting, and then I can bring you back to your car. I’m going to be heading back that way anyways.”
“All right,” she says, once she’s through thinking it out. I’m realizing she’s more analytical than intuitive.
But what about all that kissing, my mind nags.
It’s true. There was nothing calculated or methodological about what transpired between Astra and me. It was red-hot chemistry at best and pure animal attraction: I wanted her and she wanted me, and consenting adult that we are, we gave in to the too-strong natural currents rip tiding us together.
I stop thinking as Astra is moving towards me. Not for a second round surely? Lifting her purse, a demure deep blue today, over her shoulder, she grabs my arm and locks it through hers.
I’m surprised given I expected at least some time to pass for her braving another touch. Yet here she is, doing the honors for me.
“Just in case,” she says as way of explanation.
We head to my rental that way, locked arms until we split to take our respective seats. Astra navigates me straight, and I get the drive-by of my neighborhood and a passing glimpse of the house…
I keep my eyes focused on the rough roads before us as number 75 gives away to house number seventy-three and then Astra points out the turn from the street we’re on.
“Turn here next,” she says, and I feel her survey. “Do you want me to drive?”
“I’m fine, I promise.” My lips pull up into a tiny grin. “I thought I could handle you, my mistake.”
Astra squeaks, but remains silent, shifting out her discomfiture. I sneak a peek at her red cheeks, wondering if it’s the remnants of our trip outside or the heat of my comment.
When she speaks again it’s to navigate me to Georgia Drive’s number twenty. I see Holly’s sedan and park by the curb.
Astra waits for me to lock up and round the hood to her side. She takes the lead this time, ringing the front door and answering Holly’s loud ‘coming’.
A blanket covering her shoulders, Holly greets Astra first, seeing her friend before realizing there’s a plus one. Me.
“I wasn’t expecting guests,” she says for the second time, leading us into her den. I don’t miss the glare she tosses Astra’s way, the latter giving a sheepish smile.
The den is small, but the nautical décor brightens what could have been an otherwise dingy part of the house. There is a bowl of soup in a wooden meal tray on the modern wood and steel coffee table.
The blue-and-white striped cushions behind Astra and me on the white settee are comfy as well as stylish. I make a note to ask Holly who put everything together in her little living area.
“We haven’t met properly,” another look at Astra before she holds out her hand, “I’m Holly Chandler.”
“Ryker McBride.” I shake her hand. Not releasing my hand during the appropriate time space, Holly leans up and locks me into her baby blues.
“Have we met before? Cliché as it sounds, I feel like I’ve seen you, before now that is.”
Crap. Shit. Fuck.
“He doesn’t live here,” Astra says. I nudge my head at Lola’s counsellor.
“I don’t live here.” I repeat, smiling to cover for the litany of curses streaming through my head.
Relinquishing her power grip, Holly drops into the arm chair and draws up her legs. “So? Where are you from, Ryker?” she doesn’t need to be coaxed into the first-name basis like Astra.
“City of Angels…and traffic and heatwaves and noise pollution,” I say.
Holly’s surprise matches Astra’s. “Really? I’ve been to L.A. once, a family trip when I was fifteen, never got around to going back even though I fell in love.”
“City girl through and through,” Astra sighs. “I miss Columbia for the noise and the lights and the people.”
“City-sickness,” Holly’s solemn expression turns to me. “It’s how us gals bonded. I’m from Newark.”
“What brought you to OC?” other than learning she had a recent divorce, I’m genuinely curious. I like what I’ve seen of Holly so far. That and she’s a friend of Astra, the only thing else I know other than her being a counsellor at St. B&J and a fantastic kisser.
“OC?” Astra and Holly ask together.
“What the locals call Orange Compass,” I roll my shoulders back, trying at nonchalance.
Neither of them runs with my slip and Holly answers, giving me the brief on her event management business and how a run-in with one of the mothers at St. B&J led to a profitable income for one
party. “After that I looked into the school and threw my cares to the window. Small town life has its perks. Astra doesn’t agree.”
“What?” Astra grounds from her reverie. She looks my way and the embarrassment twists up her lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I like Orange Compass.”
“Yes, you like to hate it.”
Holly’s teasing is stopped when she fetches us refreshments.
“I hope you don’t mind settling with hot chocolate. Unless you’d like something stronger, and I think I have a bit more white wine for that.”
“No, hot chocolate’s good.” I grab at the mug she’s offering me on the tray. Astra takes her and pauses when Holly says, “I thought you could use a boost though.”
“Holly,” she starts, her mouth popping open, her brow doing that cute little furrowing thing.
“Relax, relax. I’m kidding. I didn’t spike the chocolate.” Holly’s grin doesn’t exactly match her words.
Astra eases back into the couch, sipping at the chocolate and after smacking her lips and concluding its san alcohol, she enjoys a longer taste.
A loud thud above has all three of us looking up.
“Sorry about that,” Holly sighs. “My son, Liam,” she says to me, shaking her head, tasting her hot chocolate before continuing. “Remember my jewelry box. Liam’s clever idea,” another exasperated sigh fills the short silence. “I’ve grounded him on principle, of course, but kids will be kids in some way.”
Liam is moving around again, another thud carrying down to the first floor.
“I can go check on him,” Astra is setting down her mug, but Holly holds up a hand.
“It’s fine. He’s throwing a tantrum. It’s like clockwork.” She rolls her eyes. “He thinks if he keeps that up I’ll be irritated enough to call it quits on the grounding. Like that’s going to happen.”
There’s a beat of pause and then Holly tilts her head, her eyes glinting. “Speaking of, how did you get that old man owner of the pawn store to give this back?”
“I,” I’m at a loss for words is what I should say. I feel Astra’s stare, too. My neck is warm and prickly, sweat sitting under my collar, and I’m reaching to loop two fingers under the V of my long-sleeved shirt.
Remembering I still have my coat on, I pull it off and adjust in my seat. “I appealed to his good nature.”
“Why do I get a sense there’s more to it than that?” she’s scratching her chin, clearly cooking up a new angle to get information. Torture by hot chocolate and warm hospitality, and I’m good to giving her whatever she wants.
“Did you know him?” Holly supplies finally.
“Before sunny Cali, I used to live here, in Orange Compass.”
“That makes sense,” she’s only getting started. “So you knew him and what? You told him to back off?” a light sparks her eyes as she adds, “No, wait, don’t tell me you punched him?”
“I didn’t resort to violence.” I did indirectly threaten Harry to keep a watch on Holly’s kid.
“Not that that would have solved anything,” Astra says, polishing through her hot chocolate and reaching out to replace the mug on the tray. “All it would have done is land you in more trouble.”
“Spare me the ‘violence solves nothing’ speech, please. I love you, but I’m willing to trust a little arm-twisting would have greased up that old bastard.”
“And what did you have in mind?”
“We’re past that now, right?” Holly blinks innocently. Astra sighs and mid-shake of her head, catches my eyes. Her smiling is infectious. It’s the last thing I should be doing, sitting here and enjoying a cup of chocolatey sweetness and their company, but I am.
And I can’t deny I’m happy. Probably the happiest I’ve been in a while when it isn’t me and my music.
We talk mostly about Orange Compass. The ladies don’t ask about my background, but it comes to light that I attended St. B&J. That gets them talking about the school and some the changes that could be made, all of which I agree with.
Astra and I take our leave of Holly what feels like hours later. We head into a snow-free evening.
“It’s finally stopped,” I hear Astra humming her approval which changes when I note that the car is stuck. The wheels protest the more I try, and I keep trying until Astra says, “My house isn’t that far.”
I look up as she tags on, “Until the snow clears up and my shovel is in my car, and that’s a further distance.”
“Could we ask Holly?”
“Yes, but the roads,” she trails off and I’m on her wavelength.
“I’d love to rest at yours, if you’re all right with it.”
Astra flushes and shakes her head. “It’s fine on my end, only I have a couch. The guest room is more of a storage room right now.”
I’m tripping on the high of going to her place that I don’t care if I have to risk my back on the couch. Composing my expression at odds with the freaking out I’m doing inside I lead us out.
“I live close to Holly. I usually pass her place to head to mine.”
“That’s why you stop in to check on her with soup bowls,” I say.
“Yes. And I like the companionship.” Her smile is bright enough to break up the dreary aftermath of the snowstorm.
“Is it okay for me to leave the car?” I ask, glancing back.
“I’ll call Holly when we get home and let her know in case she decides to report you to the law.”
We’re walking past Holly’s garage when a red-orange light enters my peripherals. Astra’s being closer to the garage and the small ball of fire brings my hand to her back.
Already on top of it, Astra squints in the direction of the glow. “Liam?” she engages the shadowy figure.
The figure pushes off the side of the fence, the cigarette glow sailing to the snow at the mention of his name. Holly’s kid is tall and lanky and dark-haired, everything unlike his mother. I figure his genes coming from the missing father in the scene.
I frown as I remember the smoking, my fists clenching to rein in the urge to give him a piece of my mind especially after hearing his mom worrying over him in that warm cocoon of a home of theirs.
Dumbass kid.
“Liam.” Astra repeats, her frown in her voice. “Aren’t you grounded?”
“Yes, but I needed some fresh air.”
Guess that explains all the noise. Kid breaking out.
The teen holds up a hand as way of greeting, the grin revealing his metal. The braces make his face younger. Liam flips his dark flop out of his eyes as his gaze swivels to me. I see it before it comes out of his mouth.
“Holy shit!”
“Liam,” Astra is quick on scolding him. Turning to look between us, wondering what provoked Liam to widening his eyes and popping his jaw open to catch a whole lot more snowflakes swirling about than normal.
“Ryker McBride – you’re him, aren’t you?”
I can’t exactly say I’m not. I shrug, but the movement is unnatural even to me. Astra’s curiosity leashes her censure.
“Holy sh—crap,” Liam censors his language, but the awe has intensified. “Dude,” he drawls, running a hand down the leg of his baggy, dark denims and holding out a fist. I return the gesture out of good faith, that and it wouldn’t earn me points with Astra if I shoved my hand over her friend’s son’s mouth.
“Huge fan. Loved your latest single. When are you planning to bring out your new music?” He crows then, breaking off to cup his fist over his mouth. “Man, I can’t believe this is happening even: A freaking rock star in my front yard!”
Astra’s squeak gains my notice more than the star-struck teen.
She’s looking at me like she’s meeting me for the first time. That soft mouth of hers opens slightly, her expression matching Liam’s thrall.
“A rock star?” she repeats Liam’s cringing term.
“Musician sounds better, doesn’t it?” I smile; she doesn’t.
“But what Liam said is
true?”
Liam whistles. “Still here.”
“We should go,” Astra clears her throat and marches ahead, giving me a respite from being mauled with questioning from Liam. I’m half-worrying he’s going to open his mouth, but one look at Astra’s swaying hips and I’m kicking myself for maybe ruining whatever we are.
The walk to hers is quiet. She lets me in and closes up behind me.
Her house, unlike Holly’s, is darker, quieter…emptier. The necessities are there, but it’s the bare minimum. The couch, thankfully, is a three-seater large enough for a guy standing six feet some. My legs will dangle off the armrest but what the heck, I’m not complaining.
