Legacies of Love: Six Seductive Stories to Steal Your Heart

by C. L. Roman

  That’s been months ago now. In fact, Jason spewed the same kind of crap about Seth and the guitar being meant for each other as Len did.

  Until today, Seth thought that was all a bunch of bullshit, but now, he doesn’t quite know what to think.

  That day, upon Seth’s irritation level spiking from the substantial bullshit that both Jason and Len were spurting about his connection to the guitar, Seth made a bet with Jason that he would never give in and buy the lovely lady.

  Seth was resolute that he’d never spend that much money on a guitar, so he thought it a safe bet. But, Jason was sure he’d go back and get it.

  Seth managed to stand his ground that the price was too rich for him…until today.

  Now, it’s time to pay up. Seth squats in a catcher’s stance in front of his oak liquor cabinet. After pulling out a couple of every day bottles of Johnnie Walker, Crown Royal and Patron, he extracts a bottle from the back.

  The regular bottles are returned to their places and immediately forgotten again. As Seth stands, he smiles wistfully to himself. This is the payment for losing their bet. A bottle of Macallan Eighteen-Year Single Malt Scotch.

  Seth bought the bottle when he graduated from Berklee and put it aside for a special occasion. He was saving it for the day one of his songs won a Grammy, a Brit, or a Billboard award. But if Jason and Len are right about the guitar, losing this bet is totally worth this bottle of scotch.

  Snapped out of his head by the sound of a door opening, Seth quickly turns to see Jason entering through his back door.

  Jason grins, “What’s up, man? Good to see you.”

  Seth returns the grin and strides over to him, “Good to see you, too.”

  As the two men meet, they grasp hands and pull each other in for a back-slapping man hug.

  Jason raises an eyebrow, “So you wanna tell me what’s going on, Seth?”

  Seth stares at his face a moment, then begins to snicker. He turns and retrieves the bottle of scotch from the kitchen table and holds it up, “It seems I owe you a bottle of Macallan.”

  Taking a moment to register, Jason throws his head back and laughs happily, “Got a new lady in your life, I take it?”

  Seth nods, “Yep. She’s mine.”

  Jason takes the bottle from Seth’s hand, “I’ll take this bottle because I was obviously right…as usual.”

  Seth rolls his eyes and starts to respond, when Jason stops him, “Shush! I’m not done. While I will take this bottle, I will stash it away until the day when, which will be in the very near future, one of your new creations hits big.”

  Seth laughs, “Pretty confident in that, aren’t ya?”

  Jason looks at him deadpan, “Yeah, man. I am.”

  Seth gulps at the intensity of the response when Jason sets the bottle of scotch back on the kitchen table, “So, let me see her.”

  Seth leads Jason into the den studio area of the open layout. The kitchen is open to the den , creating one very large open space.

  Only a spindled half wall reaching a third of way into the room separates the kitchen from the larger room.

  Seth retrieves the Gibson from the stand and hands it to Jason.

  Jason inspects it reverently, then smiles at Seth, and sings the chorus to the Tubes song of the same name,“She’s a beauty…”

  Seth laughs, “Yeah, she is. I just hope she can get me out of this damn writing funk I’m in.”

  “She will, man,” Jason retorts.

  The front doorbell rings prompting Seth to pick up the cash he had ready on the end table, “That’ll be the grub.”

  As Seth takes care of the delivery, Jason takes a few minutes to closely inspect the guitar. He releases a long whistle, “This is one beautiful instrument. The subtleties in the wood are breathtaking.”

  Seth agrees as he pulls two beers from the refrigerator. Jason continues, “And she’s almost cherry. I can barely see any visible wear on her.”

  Seth grins as he returns to Jason and joins in the reverie of the scrutiny. The two men inspect every single inch of the instrument before Jason shakes his head and holds it out for Seth to take, “She’s pretty damn perfect, man.”

  Seth smiles as he carefully sets the guitar back in the stand. He turns to Jason, “Let’s eat. I’m starving. Spending that much money takes a lot out of a man.”

  After their pizza dinner, the two men spend the remainder of the evening watching the Tennessee Titans football game, having a few beers and chatting.

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, Seth blinks heavily as the sun streams through the small cracks of the blinds in his bedroom. Groggy, he lays flat on his back with his hands over his eyes for several minutes to give himself time to wake up.

  Realizing that if the sun is streaming through the blinds, it has to already be late morning. “Shit!” he grumbles as he forces himself out of bed.

  He pads barefooted through the den and into the kitchen, still unable to get his head cleared up. After several cups of coffee, a light breakfast, and a long, hot shower, he begins to finally wake up.

  Freshly showered, damp hair combed back against his head , Seth enters his den studio to begin working.

  Sitting down in the sturdy wooden chair, he wiggles his butt to get comfortable in the indentions carved in the seat of the chair. This chair is very much akin to those he had in his grade school classes. It’s not the most comfortable thing, but it’s got its own magic.

  This chair sat in the TV room of his apartment building his senior year at Berklee. Seth was working on his final project and after hours in his room, he needed a change of scenery. Since Boston was under sixteen inches of snow at the time, the TV room would have to do.

  He looked around the room at the worn hunter green fabric of the sofa and matching chairs that had obviously been there for far too long. Nothing gave him any tinge of inspiration until his eyes locked on the plain wooden chair shoved in the corner.

  “Might as well give it a shot,” he murmured to himself as he carried his guitar, half written staffs of music and papers covered in scribbled lyrics over to the chair. Laying the papers out on the coffee table that he pulled into the corner with him, he settled into the chair.

  After taking a deep breath and releasing it, Seth began to play what he’d already written on his senior project. When he reached the end of his work thus far, several ideas came to him as to where to go next.

  In a few hours, Seth had a beautiful mid-tempo modern-day love song. He was quite satisfied with the finished product. After receiving an A and multiple accolades from his professors and fellow students on this senior project, Seth went in search someone who could sell that chair to him.

  After several days of going around and around with the manager of the apartment building, they finally allowed Seth to take the chair so long as he replaced it with a papasan chair. He was at World Market within a half hour. It wasn’t cheap for a college student, but by damn, he had his chair.

  It turned out that the song was the second song he sold and to date, his most successful one.

  The chair has since been deemed the ‘Chair of the Actualization of Tantalizing Sonorousness for Humanity’s Inspiration and Transformation’ or CATSHIT for short.

  Yeah, it may be a bunch of BS words thrown together to loosely describe the songwriting process, but Seth and his friends still get a kick out of saying that Seth sits in CATSHIT to write hit songs.

  Admittedly, Seth is superstitious about his writing. His friends frequently give him grief about it. But, he figures, why screw with something that has proven to work?

  People do all sorts of crazy things with superstitions. Think about it. Some people don’t change their underwear when their football team is on a winning streak, so sitting in a particular chair or facing a particular wall to write a song shouldn’t be a big deal at all.

  Seth settles into CATSHIT, “Well, let’s see what we’ve got today…”

  He picks up the Gibson Acoustic and checks th
e tuning, which surprisingly had stayed in tune since he bought it.

  Noticing the familiar cold sensation, he grips the pick firmly between his right thumb and forefinger then strums the guitar to get the feel of it.

  After a couple of hours, Seth sets the guitar back into the stand. He stands and paces, combing his fingers through his now dry, disheveled hair.

  He is more than a little bit disappointed that while he was able to write sections of songs, he didn’t write that masterpiece that everyone seemed to think was imminent when he played this guitar.

  After a few minutes of pacing, Seth picks up the Gibson and sits back down in CATSHIT.

  He plays around with several melodies. Unsatisfied, he huffs in frustration as he sets the guitar on the stand, probably a little too hard. As the body of the instrument meets the stand, Seth hears a clinking sound.

  “Oh no!” He dives toward the guitar, landing on his knees and cradling the guitar in his hands.

  He gently moves the guitar around, reproducing the clinking sound again. Seth’s face goes pale.

  He strums the guitar, it sounds just fine. What could that noise be?

  He turns the guitar over such that the sound hole is facing down and carefully tilts it from side to side. The noise continues, adding to the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  After a few more tilts, a shiny object falls out through the strings and lands on the floor. Seth gasps and stares at the object.

  It’s a silver necklace with a cross charm that appears to be about two inches in height. He carefully sets the guitar back on the stand before bending to pick up the necklace.

  As he touches the metal of the necklace, he receives a rush of intense cold that courses through his body, forcing goosebumps to pop out all over him. He drops the necklace, staring down at his open hands. The sensation is immediately gone!

  He looks past his hands back at the floor, “What the hell was that?”

  He takes a deep breath and picks up the necklace again, eliciting the same deep cold sensation throughout his body. This time he doesn’t release the necklace, but is keenly aware of the cold overcoming his body.

  He examines the cross carefully. It looks old, but is in surprisingly good condition.

  The cross is what Seth believes is a Celtic cross. The horizontal and vertical bars cross about two-thirds of the way up the longer vertical bar as a regular Christian cross. The difference is that a circle surrounds the junction of the bars, effectively joining each section of the cross.

  As Seth inspects the cross closer, he notices the ornate weaving of Celtic knots that decorate the bars and the circle. It’s a really special piece of jewelry.

  The cold sensation is still present, but Seth has become less aware of it. He lays the cross on the kitchen table and stares at it, unsure what to do with it.

  Tomorrow, he’ll call Len and see if anyone has lost anything like this in his shop. Surely someone would be looking for something this special.

  Suddenly overcome with fatigue, Seth checks the clock to see what time it is. He’s surprised to see that it’s almost 7pm. The last time he looked at his watch, it was 3pm. He murmurs, “What the hell is going on here?”

  Deciding that he’s got to be done for the day, Seth takes a quick shower and dresses in flannel lounge pants and a Gibson t-shirt, his normal around-the-house attire.

  He instinctively rubs his stomach in response to the rumbling. Realizing he really hasn’t eaten anything since his breakfast bagel, he walks into the kitchen and pulls open the freezer door. Staring blankly at the contents, he removes a frozen pizza and shoves it in the oven. He sets the temperature to 400 degrees, not bothering to preheat first.

  He sits down at the kitchen table and stares at the cross necklace lying in front of him. He’s so drawn to it. Granted that cold feeling he gets when he touches it is freaking weird, but there’s still something about it. Weariness washes over him, forcing him to lower his head to lie on his crossed arms. He mumbles to no one, “I’ll just close my eyes for a minute.”

  Seth is startled awake by the sound of the ice-maker dropping ice. His mind still fuzzy and his eyes heavy with sleep, he jumps up, knocking his chair over.

  Confused, he stands in the middle of the kitchen, looking around the room, blinking heavily. Suddenly, he gasps, “Oh shit! The pizza!”

  He rushes to the oven to see it just as it always is, turned off, clean top, just sitting there idle.

  Seth drops his hands by his sides as his mind churns. He shakes his head as he pulls open the door, rattling the contents. He sucks in a sharp breath. The frozen pizza is in the freezer, still in the box, unopened.

  He pushes the door shut, drags himself over to his sofa and plops down hard. He stretches out his long legs and puts both hands over his face.

  Mumbling to himself, he steps through the activities of earlier that evening. He’s not going crazy, is he? He found that cross necklace in the guitar, didn’t he?

  Running his hands across his bristly face and down to his chest, he feels something foreign there. “What the hell?”

  As his hands grasp at the item, a cold sensation rushes through his body. Seth realizes that the Celtic cross necklace is hanging around his neck.

  Squeezing the cross tightly in his hand, he mumbles, “I must be going crazy. I must’ve dreamed everything or something.”

  He thinks a moment, “But how did this cross get around my neck? I sure didn’t put it here.”

  Seth groans as he pulls the throw blanket from the back of the sofa down, covers himself, rolls on his side and is immediately asleep.

  Chapter 7

  The next time that Seth’s eyes open, bright sunlight is bathing the room. Maybe this whole thing was just a dream. His left hand creeps toward his chest, feeling the cold, hard metal necklace still in place around his neck.

  He sighs, clenching the necklace in his hand tightly. The cold wave pushes through his body as he sits up and props his forearms on his thighs. Leaning forward, he tries to capture a single thought as he rubs his eyes. Nothing is clear. In fact, the previous day seems a complete blur.

  He fingers the metal around his neck, trying to recall exactly how it came to be there. He sighs in frustration when nothing manifests. He feels really off for some reason.

  Trying to shake it off, he stands and shuffles into the kitchen. Unscrewing the lid before it’s out of the refrigerator, Seth turns up the carton of orange juice and guzzles about half of the container.

  Breathless from the activity, he secures the top back on the container and returns it to the fridge. As he does, he catches a glimpse of the clock in the kitchen. He gasps, “Holy shit! It’s 4 o’clock…in the afternoon!” He’s lost a whole freaking day!

  His heart begins to pound, “Maybe I should go to the doctor.” He seems to be sleeping and dreaming an awful lot lately. He sure isn’t getting anything written, that’s for damn sure!

  As he thinks about his dreams the night before, he can’t recall any details. All he knows is that they were very vivid.

  Scrubbing his hands over his face, he tries to decide what he needs to do.

  About that time, his front doorbell rings. No one ever comes to his front door.

  Still in his lounge attire, he drags himself to open the door to find a gorgeous auburn-haired young woman. He is completely taken aback by her beauty. Her almond-shaped dark green eyes are almost a teal color. Maybe it’s contacts, because Seth has never seen eyes quite that color.

  His mouth is hanging open, unable to take his eyes off of her. She meekly says, “Sir?”

  He nods slowly, “Yeah?”

  She releases a precious laugh that sounds like a song. Shit, he must be going crazy.

  He finally pulls himself together enough to say, “Yes? I’m sorry. Can I help you?”

  She nods, “I’m so sorry, but my car broke down up the road a ways. I need to call a tow truck and of course, my cell phone doesn’t have a signal. Could I use your phone?�
�

  Her voice is like silk, with a sweet southern drawl. It reminds him of someone. She seems absolutely flawless. God, she’s beautiful.

  Managing to gather himself, he unlatches the screen door and holds it open for her, “Sure, come on in.”

  She enters, leaving a trail of the sweetest fragrance that he’s ever smelled. Seth gasps and breathes in deeply to take in the luscious aroma. Even that seems familiar to him.

  He closes the door behind them and turns to see a full view of this lovely woman who is standing in his den studio.

  Planted in place, he looks her over from head to toe. She shifts her weight uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

  Seth notices and apologizes, “I’m really sorry. I haven’t been feeling well lately. I sort of just zone out, it seems.”

  He rushes past her into the kitchen and shows her to his landline phone on the wall. She slips past him, again leaving that luscious trail of fragrance. This time, his mouth literally begins to water.

  He returns to the sofa and sits down, rubbing his palms over his thighs repeatedly in a nervous fashion. The woman is in full view, so he takes this opportunity to look at her again without seeming creepy or insane.

  Her hair is a dark auburn, not brown and not red, but a perfect mingling of the two. It hangs in waves down to the middle of her back.

  She is wearing some sort of cerulean blue top and a jean jacket that hits just at the waist of her jeans. He appreciates how her body fits perfectly in her fitted jeans. She is wearing trendy, chunky-heeled boots. As she speaks into the phone, she turns toward him, forcing him to avert his eyes quickly.

  Her melodious voice pierces the air, “Um, sir, what is this address?”

  He clears his throat and tells her the information. She smiles, almost making him groan out loud. All she did was freaking smile! Man, she has him all sorts of messed up.

  He takes a deep breath and looks back at her. She is still facing him, but isn’t paying attention to him.