Love with Every Beat

by K. L. Shandwick

“I can’t stay. I wasn’t going to stay this late.” I furrowed my brow.

  “What’s the hurry?” She shrugged at me but wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  “I don’t want to stay Alfie, there’s stuff I have to do tomorrow.”

  There was nothing I could say, I wanted to talk to her but not when she was running out of the door. On the way back to the house, I had toyed with the idea of telling her about Kara and Poppy, she would at least know why I was behaving the way I was.

  Lily called a cab and went down to put her clothes on, as soon as she left the room I knew I needed to do it now, this was my chance to tell her she was the most amazing girl I had ever known and come clean about what was going on with me. My cell buzzed and when I saw the ID Kara I froze. It was after midnight, and she was on her way over. Shit. Something was badly wrong if she was coming off campus.

  There was no time for anything. If Lily was here when Kara arrived, she’d jump to conclusions, and that would be it. Lily and I would be a closed book. Pulling some sweat shorts on to go downstairs, I heard the cab pull up at the sidewalk.

  My heart cracked that I’d missed seeing her, and it dawned on me that the time I spent texting Kara back and getting dressed, Lily might think I’d used her and just let her leave.

  No doubt about it, Alfie Black was a fucking genius at sending the wrong signals out to make Lily feel used and discarded. As Lily’s cab left Kara’s came into view, and I saw Kara’s head turning to follow the cab. She was looking to see who had just left.

  This was none of Kara’s business. Besides, if she knew I was involved with a girl she wouldn’t want me to help her, and whichever way I looked at my situation… Kara and Poppy needed me more. Kara came and opened the front door, calling out for me, then went back to the car to get Poppy from her car seat. She was sound asleep and once she had settled her in the spare room, Kara told me what had happened.

  Apparently she and Poppy had been to a nativity play on campus when she ran into one of her ex-boyfriend’s relatives. The girl didn’t know they had split up because she’d been out of state.

  Kara told her some old cock and bull story about looking after a friend’s kid and needing to get her back, and had managed to get away without the girl seeing where she had gone. So she was majorly spooked and too frightening to stay the night in the apartment. Sitting patiently, while she sat rehashing all the same stuff again, crying buckets about everything that had happened, and fuck if I didn’t start crying as well. We drank a bottle of wine between us and toasted Gary several times.

  Although, inwardly I was fighting with angry feelings for the shit Gary had left for me to deal with. By the time I got into struggling with the thoughts and feelings I was having, and seeing Kara like that, I’d decided that Gary had caused so much pain by his decision to join the Army and getting himself killed, much like my dad and the alcohol.

  Being brutally honest, I was so pissed at the both of them for being selfish enough to do what they wanted regardless of the consequences for me, Layla, and Kara.

  My mind just wouldn’t turn off once I’d gone down that path, and I lay tossing and turning in the darkness of my room. I’d never felt so lonely in my whole life, and the feelings I had managed to keep locked down inside me were like an endless fountain of emotions fizzing up and overflowing between my head and my heart until I was so exhausted I couldn’t think about anything anymore and eventually fell asleep.

  The sun was shining high in the sky by the time I woke up. Before I opened my eyes I just lay there in my bed getting lost for a while; her scent lingered on my sheets and as long as I didn’t open my eyes I could imagine she was still there with me.

  Life sucked, I could either do this or leave it. That was a lie I just knew that unless someone physically removed us from each other, we’d have plenty more times crying into our coffee for what Lily and I couldn’t have together.

  Inhaling deeply, I rolled over and swiped my cell off of the nightstand, in that moment I’d decided she needed to know what was keeping us apart. Maybe it would help her to know that she wasn’t being rejected by me for any other reason than the lives I was trying to keep safe.

  SEXPERT: I need to see you. There is something you need to know.

  Pink Lady: Save me a space.

  When I saw her text, it shattered my heart. Confirming everything I had been thinking last night, Lily was exorcising a ghost. Putting everything to bed. Last night been my one chance to make amends, and I never took it. Choosing instead to let her think I’d just used her and that I was relieved when she left.

  I tried to call but it went straight to voicemail. What I had to say was going to take more than a voicemail. I sighed deeply. Why was nothing in my life smooth and straightforward? Pacing the room unable to sleep, I decided to take the bull by the horns and go over to Lily’s place. Time to talk openly and honestly about everything that was going on in my life and let her know that she meant a lot to me, and to encourage her to just hang with me.

  Hopefully in time my life would change and then maybe I would be in the position to explore more, either that or the fact that we didn’t have this wall between us would ‘normalize’ things for us.

  By the time I arrived at her apartment, I’d convinced myself that this was a turning point for us, a hump in the road we’d figure out as we went. Relieved to see the Jeep sitting in the lot, I made my way to her apartment and knocked softly on the door. It was seven o’clock in the morning, so I figured she was still in bed.

  After a few minutes I knocked again, I pulled out my cell and texted her. When I received no reply I tried again. Still, there was nothing. No reply. Feeling dejected, I made my way home, walking in on an overenthusiastic two-year-old. Poppy was a joy to be around, a real bundle of fun, but I just wasn’t in the mood for anyone. I just needed to be alone.

  So I headed upstairs to bed and lay there wondering if I would see her again today. Swiping my cell of the nightstand, I tried again. Still no reply.

  That pattern continued for the next twenty-four hours and included me making several more trips to her apartment. Finally, I drove over to the douche’s place, figuring she might be there. Will looked surprised to see me, but smug when he delivered a punch to my gut in the form of the news that Lily had gone back to London.

  Panic, hurt, anger, frustration—so many feelings rushed at me with Will’s less than sympathetic tone. Lily and I hadn’t discussed what was happening at Christmas, but I never figured her going home to be part of her plan. Will stood in his door way, his arms across his chest and a smug look on his face.

  Gritting my teeth, I couldn’t even look at him when I walked away. Lily had gone back to London and there was so much left to say. I barely made it to my car, before I broke down. Tears rolled freely down my face. I didn’t even try to hide the fact that I was crying. It was the first time in six years that I’d cried, and the one time I really felt completely and desperately alone.

  Funny, the craziest things come to mind when you are faced with something shocking like that. When Will told me Lily had gone, my first thought was, but I never even took a picture of her. Why would I think like that? Feeling tortured and angry, so full of anguish about what I should do about her, about everything.

  All I had to console me was what I had with her, and it was enough for me. Just to be near her, be with her. At that point the best I could wish about Lily was that she would come back. And if she did… and there I was again, a man without a plan.

  Lily should have left to find someone to love. The perfect way she’d been put together, beautiful inside and out, she deserved to be someone’s everything. Rolling over, I suspected that if that happened and it wasn’t me…well the thought of that crushed my heart and wrecked my soul. Life would truly be pointless if that happened.

  Chapter 29 – Over The Pond

  Breathless from my morning run, my heart thudded against my chest, sweat running down my back. It felt good to feel that physical exhausti
on and clear my mind of all the conflicting feelings my brain kept stirring up about Lily.

  Running and playing my tunes in my ear meant there was no room to think; it was therapeutic. Feeling my cell vibrating a few times, I’d chosen to ignore it. It couldn’t be that important. Whomever it was could ring back. Twenty minutes wasn’t going to make a lot of difference to me. Reaching my front door, it rang again, and when I answered it, my chest was still heaving.

  Drew was calling. “Hi, you okay? “My labored breathing was enough for Drew to guess what I had been doing. “Been running?” Giving him a grunt, he ignored me and continued to talk.” Don’t talk, just listen.” Drew spent the next three minutes talking rapidly, his voice, animated and barely drawing breath.

  Apparently I had to check my voicemail as soon as possible and get back to him. When I heard the caller announce who he was I nearly fell flat on my back. Standing staring out of the window while the voice of Rick Fars’ manager was talking. Jesus, Cobham Street’s manager is calling ME?

  Turns out their support band had cancelled because their lead singer was in rehab. Can’t really continue to play gigs of that magnitude without a front man. Rick Fars saw Crakt Soundzz when we were at ‘Firestone Live,’ in Orlando and suggested us as a replacement. There were only a few gigs left, but it would be a huge step up for us as a band.

  After I got past the initial shock, I pressed the return call number. Expecting to leave a message, I was stunned when he’d called me from his own personal cell. Surreal and exciting conversation followed, and after fifteen minutes, I hung up and called Drew back. “We all have passports right? Tell me we have fucking passports?”

  Drew dealt with the paperwork for Crakt Soundzz. He was the paper guy, I was the business guy, Des was the equipment guy, and Andy…well Andy was Andy. Snickering, I thought about how he was going to react, and decided this had to be done face to face. Responsibility and Andy in the same sentence was an oxymoron. He turned up and did his thing and that was the best we could expect of him. Brilliant bassist but don’t give the guy responsibility. He had a brain like a sieve.

  Belly laughing, almost to the point of hysteria, Drew confirmed we had everything we needed, and then stopped in his tracks. “We’re definitely going? You said yes without consulting with the others?” There was no question about it, we were going to London.

  When Steve had mentioned the city we were going to, a flood of emotions that I hadn’t even been able to register rushed through my system and left me stunned. Realizing that in less than a day I was going to be making my way over the Atlantic Ocean and into the same time city as Lily again.

  “Indeed.” I had. Stephen White, Cobham Street’s manager had just thrown me a lifeline to see Lily again, and even if we had to smuggle one of us in, we were going to London. Playing for Cobham Street took second place, I was much more excited about the prospect of finding Lily than playing ‘warm up’ for the world’s biggest rock band.

  Excited to the point of hysteria, Drew continued on, but I had stopped listening. My brain was already focusing on how I was going to find her. Quickly distracting him from his train of thought, I began to fire off a list of chores for Drew to do before we left in the evening. We were being flown in the record company jet, and our first gig with them was in one week’s time on New Year’s Eve.

  Punching the number for the college registration office, I was trying to calm my nerves and focus. Barely able to hold the ballpoint pen between my fingers as another adrenaline rush threatened to leave me with little in the way of control over my bodily functions. Heart beat thumping, lips tingling, pulse racing.

  When Margaret, the administrator, answered the phone, I cracked a smile. She adored me. I swear –if I was older, or she had been younger—I’d have had to beaten her off of me with a stick. Within two minutes of sweet talking and flattery from me, I had Lily’s address in the UK. So much rules about confidentiality. Although, to be fair to Margaret, I am an associate of the university on a course which is part of Lily’s curriculum.

  Staring at the paper with her name and address, I had a feeling of calmness inside. I hadn’t felt that since she walked away the other night. Strange to describe, it was a feeling of being close to her. Even more than that; a safe feeling knowing that Lily wasn’t able to disappear completely, now that her parents’ address was in my hands.

  Seeing the black leather seats in the limo had been polished, it left me nervous. Everything suddenly seemed a world away from the treatment we had been used to going on tour. We always arranged our own tour bus or venue, thinking we didn’t need a manager to drain away some of the money we earned from the gigs.

  Drew and Des argued about who was sitting next to me, facing the driver, and who was traveling against the traffic flow. Des complained, “I get motion sickness if I can’t look out of the window.” God help us at having to deal with that for the next ten hours or so.

  Long haul flying was horrible, especially moving forward in time zones. We had left at seven in the evening, arriving at four in the morning, but I was ready for bed because it was eleven in the evening back in Florida. As soon as the plane touched down we were guided through customs and out into the freezing English night air.

  Eventually, after about half an hour we were situated in our south London hotel near the gig venue. We could see the ‘O2’ all floodlit across the water. Damn! Pretty impressive and looking like this funky parasol umbrella with spokes poking out around the top. Very futuristic and I’d never seen a combination of a building that contemporary within minutes of deeply historical sites such as The Tower of London and Tower Bridge. It was awesome.

  Excited and worried. Those two conflicting emotions, simple ones, continued to plague me long after we checked into the hotel. Each of us had our own rooms, so I was grateful for the space for the time we were there.

  Desperate, but trying to be patient for the hours to pass so that I could go and find her. Lily. Cobham Street, in particular Rick Fars, was expecting us over at the concert site at eleven. They wanted us to familiarize ourselves with the layout, and hear ourselves play, even although there was six days to prepare for the rest of their tour.

  One thing I couldn’t understand was why they had brought us in so early. We could have flown out a day or two later. All that expense of keeping us in London for a week when we weren’t earning them any money didn’t make sense, plus the fact it was the day after Christmas day by the time we arrived. Didn’t any of them have any family to be with?

  Wired and unable to sleep, I headed into the shower. The hotel room was plush, completely different from the cramped rooms we shared, if we splurged on a hotel when we were on tour. Mainly it was buses, and they tended to be older, tired models with toilets that didn’t flush.

  Heading into the bathroom, I was impressed with the massive shower unit. Jets sprayed from above and the sides; the glass was all clear and rimless. It was, again, very contemporary with beige, polished, stone tiling on the walls and a rougher stone beneath my feet. Expensive luxury toiletries were stored in a stainless steel basket just under the main showerhead. I could get used to this.

  When I turned on the faucet, the jets were like fine needles, pummeling my skin with force, and when I began to spread the body wash on my abs, my thoughts turned to Lily and how she would react when she saw me. Praying silently that she’d want to see me and allow me time to talk to her. Right then I’d have settled for that. Longer term, well, I still couldn’t figure any of that out.

  By the time I was dressed, the rest of the band was at my door, and we made our way downstairs. London weather was so unpredictable. Looking out through the hotel window, the sky looked clear and bright, which was surprising. When we hit the street, it wasn’t the usual heat that I expected, used to coming out of an air conditioned building into the heat of Florida. Instead it was the opposite—the air was so cold, I could see my breath.

  Walking into the front of O2 was daunting. There was a vast floor sp
ace in front of the stage. Not the biggest place I’d ever been in, but definitely the most unique. The seating arrangement was set for a large floor standing crowd, the stage coming halfway out and another stage on an island about three quarters of the way back. Andy was blinking hard, nervous, and I could see he was going to need a pep talk about what this meant for all of us.

  Several tech guys were working on stage, and we had our first glimpse of the set for Cobham Street. Apparently, it cost five million dollars. Not that impressive during the day, considering the money, but I expected we’d see the full effect with the band and all the video equipment when they actually played.

  Aaron Cameron, Cobham Street’s drummer, wandered into view and began talking with one of the roadies, then turned and saw us near the pit at the front of the stage. “Jesus. H. Christ. Are we glad to see you guys.” He turned to the roadie again. “Eddie, get them back here will ya?” Eddie signaled to us to walk to the left, telling us to come through the double doors and turn left. Disappearing from the stage, I assumed he was coming to meet us.

  Eventually, we arrived on stage just as Rick Fars was coming out of a door adjusting his zipper. Smirking, he strolled over and poured himself a small beaker of water from the cooler. Downing it, he crushed the plastic cup in his hand, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand at the same time.

  “Fuck me, it’s Alfie Black.” Frozen. I sure wasn’t expecting that, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. Rick Fars knew my name. This was one of those moments in life you know you’ll never forget. Or, forget where you were when something so profound happened.

  Rock god, Rick Fars, knows who I am. Trying to look cool, like a fucking rock god talks with you on a personal level every day, I cleared my throat; conscious that this first impression of me would stay with Rick.

  “Rick.” My voice was authoritative, cool, and confident. Inside I was thinking, WTF, WTF it’s Rick Fars. Drew’s jaw was gaping, and I almost crooked my finger under his chin and shoved it closed. Andy was wiping his hands on his jeans worried about having to shake hands, and Des looked like the travel sickness had made an appearance after all.