Mind Over Matter

by Kaia Bennett

  When Gabriel didn't answer and instead went to pick up his guitar, Jonny turned to look at him, fingers still caressing the keys while he lifted an eyebrow and waited for an answer.

  "Seriously, you guys are friends now, right?" Q asked from where he was leaning against the piano on the other side of Jonny, his bass already tuned.

  "Yeah," Gabriel nodded, sliding the guitar strap over his shoulder, "but she's resting and then there's her boyfriend, you know?"

  "You mean, The Warden?" Chase said around a cigarette while he tuned his guitar. "Shit, I can't believe you guys aren't best friends already."

  Chase had taken to calling Travis "The Warden" ever since they met at Gabriel's birthday party. He, like Gabriel, was not a fan of Nicole's new man, if only because Trish hated having to choose between hanging out with her best friend and her boyfriend, and took that out on him on occasion. And though he would die before he said it out loud, he was unflinching in his loyalty to Gabriel. No one spoke about it directly anymore, but they'd all been there to see Gabriel try to recover from a broken heart. They were all still waiting for a real sign that he had.

  Nuke chuckled while twirling one of his drumsticks. "He's just... a little tense around Gabriel, that's all," he mused, playing Devil's advocate. "I talked to him though and he seemed cool."

  "'Cause you're a traitor," Jonny said absentmindedly, making another notation before rubbing his nose and playing the new phrase all the way through.

  Gabriel's jaw clenched a bit and he looked up to meet Nuke's eyes. He knew what he was trying to say, even if the others didn't.

  She's found a decent guy. She's gonna be okay, even if she's not with you.

  That's what you want, right?

  And perhaps that was what he wanted. If he couldn't have her, shouldn't he want her to be happy with someone who would treat her right?

  Nuke shrugged, and gave him a sympathetic look before they got to work. Nuke nodded along as Jonny gave him the count off then started a drumbeat that set the pulsing rhythm. Q gave them a killer groove that would become the intro and Gabe jumped in, his aggressive guitar licks pumping some grit into the mix. Chase locked his rhythm guitar in with Nuke’s beat and Q’s bass, and they were off to the races. They’d pause, play it back, tweak the sound, add the lyrics here, and take them out there. Jonny’s voice rose and fell, faltered and belted, testing out the where to let the beat take center stage, when to let the words ride the air.

  Numbers, sounds, stops and starts. Progress. This was his element, the place where he could take all that doubt and fear and own it. The guys and the music helped him forget for a while. They did such a good job he didn't even realize Nicole had called him back until hours later.

  ***

  Nicole stared up at the familiar building and a pang of doubt hit her. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Perhaps going out to lunch with the guys wasn’t a bad thing, but she was supposed to be working. That all went out the window the minute she got Gabriel's message. Now here she was, the day after, rubbing the scar just below her hairline, and smoothing out her clothes in the large entrance windows that served as her mirror.

  It had been a long time since she stood outside the studio where Fool the World made its magic. She had the strange feeling she was in an alternate universe, body snatched into another reality. How else to explain feeling like a stranger in a place that was once a part of her past? How else to explain the way it felt to look at a man she used to eat, sleep and breathe, and feel like all of that was a mistake?

  Taking a deep breath, she entered Phantom Records. Far in the distance, down the hall and leaning against the wall, talking to some badass male equivalent of herself, was Meredith Rowe. The catalyst that set in motion the chain of events that had turned her world upside down.

  She looked every bit the rock goddess who’d beat Nicole’s innocence to a bloody pulp and left it for dead in that hotel room over a year ago. Her hair was black now, matching wonderfully with her loose-fitting green t-shirt and black jeans, her pale skin luminous against the dark palette. And like always, her eyes didn't miss a thing. They must have seen Nicole's disdain shift the very air around them.

  Meredith turned away from her conversation with the guy — which seemed heated — and looked down the hall just as Nicole decided taking the stairs would be a good idea. Meredith stilled, her spine elongated and she came out of her slouch against the wall. Even from this distance her ice-blue eyes were penetrating. But Nicole had learned a thing or two from this girl. She knew how to look through a person, see deep down and make them feel it. She paused at the door, her eyes penetrating Meredith's, and she let all of her anger and hatred coat her gaze. She let it seep in until she saw the almost imperceptible shrink in Meredith's stature, the slight aversion of her eyes. Then she turned and took the stairs.

  Her legs were shaking and so was her hand on the banister, but she didn't slow down. She didn't dare in case that blast from the past decided to follow her. She didn't dare stop lest she come face to face with her own homicidal urges. But some of that anger was at herself, because if she could do over again... if she could have him and that night back in order to fix what she helped break...

  Cutting off that train of thought with deep breaths, she murmured to herself as she made her way upstairs to the hall where Fool the World were recording. “Stay calm, girl. No crazy thoughts.” She was beyond looking back. And thankfully, she could still hate Meredith and not want to change the way things were now.

  Finally, she reached her destination, and was let into the studio by Otto, one of the band’s favorite producers to collaborate with. She didn't know him well, but she saw him at the occasional party and he always seemed nice, was always good for a little idle chitchat or rousing debate on music in the circle of their friends and acquaintances. He was an interesting guy, a wiry redhead with hawk–sharp gray eyes and a gravelly laugh. He looked ridiculously young but he'd already worked with some of the best names in the current music scene, a perfect match for a new band that was already making historic waves with their first album.

  Q was doodling on a sketch pad, Chase was playing his guitar while a computer played back a synth beat for him, at which Otto promptly set up shop again. Before she could say “hi” to all of them, Jonny was grinning from ear to ear and wrapping her up in a big hug. She smiled and laughed at the way he sang "Darling Nikki!" and choked back the lump in her throat. Nostalgia was a bitter pill and she was going to have to get used to it. She wasn't like Trish — who was also meeting her at the studio to have lunch with the guys — she wasn't a part of the band by proxy anymore. The reason why was in the booth Nuke was just leaving, finishing up the end of the new song.

  "This one's one of my favorites," Jonny said, nodding towards the glass box of creativity to indicate the song. She laughed as Q gave up his seat for her with a brotherly pat on the head, then she straightened her hair and turned her attention back to Jonny. "Gabe came up with most of the lyrics. I was working on this melody the other day, just kinda got stuck in my head, but then Gabe added on this really haunting... shit, you gotta hear it..."

  Jonny gave her a set of headphones and let her listen. She'd never actually gotten a chance to see them at work in the studio. In the past she was usually catching him just as he was wrapping up, or she was smiling at him while he pulled on the last of his clothes and headed in. This was a different thing entirely. She was in the midst of watching him layer his solo onto the track the band was laying down. She watched the subtle artistry of his fingers over the strings, the way they vibrated under his touch and then sang out when he released them. The notes faded and then broke out into the silence of the room again. His eyes were closed, his head nodding along to the music in the headphones, trapped in his own world of music and creation. She realized her lips were parted and her eyes were glued to him, which made her sit up straight, clamp her mouth shut and divert her gaze to the wood and glass of the booth.

  She swallowed h
ard, feeling like she was going to cry. A sad song, almost like a lullaby — a powerful, rocking lullaby — a labyrinth of sounds she was powerless to find her way out of untouched. Just when she thought the beat would take her down a predictable path, something changed and the words hit her in the gut. It was like she'd heard the song before, even though this was her first time.

  Maybe it was the words. Maybe it was how Jonny's voice was begging some unknown girl for one more chance, for time to rewind away from coldness, back to fire, back to promises of forever that were etched into the very veins of the woman he loved. Maybe it was because as the chorus swelled it was like a cry to the heavens, an admission of loss that couldn't be fixed without undoing what seemed forever done.

  It's just a song. He's just another ex-boyfriend. This is no fairytale.

  And she was done being the foolish girl so easily caught up in the spell of him. But it took more effort than she thought it would to stop looking at him, drinking him in like the first gulp of water after a long drought. Force of habit, and bad habits like this always died hard. She just had to keep forging ahead.

  "Wow..." she said finally, pulling the headphones off before she really did cry. “That's amazing. I don't know how you guys do this over and over again."

  "It’s awesome having our number one fan around again," Nuke said with a grin. He leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek and a pat on the shoulder that once again made her miss them and miss this world.

  "This one just kind of came out of nowhere," Jonny said and shared a look with Nuke that made her feel like knew exactly where the song had come from, "Last minute replacement for another song that just didn’t fit."

  Nicole nodded absently at Jonny and turned back to Gabriel inside the booth. "It's beautiful. Perfect."

  Gabriel's eyes opened and met hers. He registered only the slightest flicker of surprise. Then he smiled lightly, finishing up the last great wave of the song. It was like he was looking at her and into her all at once.

  "What's the song called," she heard herself ask.

  Jonny grinned and pulled his seat up right beside her.

  "‘Loose Ends’," he said, and then sang part of the chorus softly in her ear.

  "I would tie all these up for you

  For you, for you

  Just

  You…"

  Chapter Eight

  "I didn't even know I had this much shit," Gabriel huffed after carrying yet another full-to-bursting box into his bedroom.

  "Most of it's music," Nicole exhaled, equally winded as she dropped her box. "That's the last one. Fucking records, and CDs, and a million books. I don't know whether to laugh at how old-fashioned you are, or hate you for putting me through this. You know you can store all this stuff on computers now, old man?"

  He laughed and came to his full height to stretch. "So I hear, youngin'. So I hear. But, like you said, I'm old-fashioned. I like to hold things in my hands. I like things with a little history to 'em."

  They took a minute to bask in the silence of his new home before sorting through his belongings. It was the weekend and Jackie, Ian, the guys from the band, Trish, and Nicole had done the obligatory service that comes with being the friend of a person in the midst of big move.

  Of course it was a little different now. They weren’t in college and lugging giant sofas up several flights of stairs. Movers had packed up all the big stuff – like furniture, appliances, and clothes. Mostly the gang was on hand to help him move his prized possessions, like his guitars, stereo equipment, and record collection, as well as new stuff he’d purchased that day. Nicole had been the last straggler to stay behind, offering to help sort through his music and books while Travis was having guy time with his friends.

  It took a couple of hours tops to get everything moved in, the furniture set up, and the stuff he’d packed out of his car, but with plenty of hands and plenty of jokes to keep the mood light, they were nearly done with moving everything by noon. Then they broke for lunch and had their own informal housewarming party. For the first time in a long time, the whole gang was together again.

  That had been his favorite part of this day. Everyone gathered around for sandwiches and drinks, laughing amidst boxes and unpacked luggage. They made fun of Gabriel for managing to hide a mansion's worth of stuff in one bedroom, and for not being able to decorate to save his life.

  "Seriously, what are you going to do with all this prime real estate?" Trish asked, partially in awe and partially jealous. "You gonna leave those beams up over there, or take them down to open up the space? Oh, and the kitchen! I don’t mind the gray countertops, but what about a black granite or marble—"

  "Slow your roll, HGTV," Chase joked, nudging her in the arm with his elbow. To the others, with a smirk, he said, "Trish is on a quest to conquer the world with interior decorating, one apartment at a time."

  "Starting with ours," Jonny said, the good-natured twinkle in his eyes belying the sneer of disapproval on his lips.

  "You two needed an intervention," Trish snorted, to which Jackie laughed and the rest nodded in concession with firsthand knowledge. "The only one who could stand to be in there was Q... and just barely, I might add."

  "I know, right? And I have notoriously low standards," Q exclaimed around a mouth full of ham and cheese.

  "I did you a favor."

  The finality of her tone made Chase roll his hazel eyes. A silent concession. Everything in his life had improved since he let Trish corner him at that wrap party for their first music video, from his apartment down to his disposition, and they both knew it. The look they gave each other said as much, identical wry smiles curving their lips. Surly love personified. And it looked good on them.

  Gabriel found himself trying and failing several times that day not to look at Nicole with the same intimate understanding. A flash of thought would hit him every time she set something down in his new bedroom, or stared at the space with as much appreciation as she had when he was still hunting for apartments. Every time they were removed from the others up until the moment they all left and she stayed behind, he would look at her and think: This should have been us. We should have been moving in here together.

  But I blew it.

  She'd already taken that big plunge with someone else. Someone who didn't take every solid show of loyalty and devotion as a tightening noose around his neck, like Gabriel had thought it was back in the day. Truth be told, this Gabriel was having a hard time understanding what that Gabriel had been so afraid of. Especially now, when he was drawn into the present by the sound of her voice, by her presence and her scent.

  "Fuck me..." Nicole whispered excitedly at her find amidst his record collection. She pulled the record out of its protective sleeve, but he wasn't paying attention to what prompted her response. Her words had caught his attention, the gasped exclamation sent a thrill through his loins, tickled a trail of memories over his tan skin.

  Fuck me... please Gabriel...

  She put the record on, placed the needle to vinyl like it was some sort of sacred communion she was partaking in. Then she stepped back and waited with arms slightly raised. When music filled the room she sank into it like a warm bath, her entire body relaxing into steady movement. She was swaying and singing along, softly, so she didn't overtake the magic of the original artist, but loud enough for him to hear her sweet, girlish lilt pay homage to it.

  Too late. Always too late. He wanted it all and now he was going to have to settle for this. He was going to have to settle for watching her sway to their favorite music with a distant smile on her face, and forget when he would get up and wrap his arms around her, kissing her neck until she turned and offered her lips up to his lust, his love.

  Well... maybe he could take a little more? There was no danger of being close to her, not when she'd moved on so thoroughly from him. Maybe he could claim a little closeness, a little something to ease the aching transition from past to present.

  He stood up, walked to her
silently against the smooth floorboards.

  "God, I love, love, love this song... remember the first time I heard it—"

  "I remember," he whispered against her ear, placing one hand against her waist, which kept her from turning to face him like she was going to. The other enfolded a hand that had drifted into the air to ride the beat.

  He heard her gasp, and felt her still against him.

  "Don't get so tense," he heard himself say, fighting back the sadness. "It's not like I'm gonna kiss you or anything. Just dancing, that's all..."

  "I know you're not," she whispered back. Her body relaxed in the tiniest of increments. "We're just friends. I know you weren't going to..."

  "Just two friends reminiscing," he said softly, filling the space that his gesture might have wedged between them. It was forward and inappropriate. But it was honest, too. And somewhere along the way he had to figure out how to be honest around her again. It was killing him not to be and he didn't want to die for a lie anymore.

  "Just dancing to one of our favorite songs, Nic..."

  He heard her sigh and she leaned back. He heard himself swallow as he wrapped his other arm around the front of her with his hand still clasping hers, but somehow he managed to sway confidently to the beat. Confident and scared of that double-edged familiarity. Holding her was like listening to your favorite song, the one that broke your heart no matter how many times you heard it. The smell of her, the feel of her warm and pliant against his body made him physically ache. It would take less than a second to change everything, to lean down and kiss the smooth skin of her neck, and hear that sigh become a moan against his waiting lips.