by Shona Husk
Was he waiting for the perfect wave? The perfect chords?
He knew in that heartbeat Gemma had nailed his problem. Somehow he’d turned into one of those people. Everyone knew stories about artists who couldn’t do anything unless it was perfect and just so. While he was fretting about the small stuff, everything else had stilled.
He glanced around him. He didn’t need good surf to enjoy the surf. He was going to make the most of the morning.
After stacking it for a second time, he decided that he wasn’t going for a third in one day. He had no idea what time it was, or how long he’d been out, only that the sun was climbing higher and it was getting hotter. As he stripped off his wetsuit, he was glad it had saved the skin up his arm, if not the top of his foot. That took a special kind of talent to get a sand burn there.
After changing and loading his car, he debated heading home or staying for a coffee. No breakfast this time, but a coffee he could handle and it might be nice to sit, and even if he wasn’t writing anything down he could at least contemplate some ideas. Taking the pressure off the actual writing was almost working.
He crossed the road and went into the Indiana Swan. He could’ve gone to any of the other cafés along the beachfront but the Swan was an icon…and he’d enjoyed his last visit. There was no mothers’ meeting today; a few men and women in suits and some older people were enjoying their free time.
He was sure they were all judging him in his faded boardies and t-shirt that had seen better summers. No doubt they were wondering why he wasn’t at work.
That he could walk around and no one recognised him was telling. In his home state, Selling the Sun wasn’t well enough known for him to be spotted. While the anonymity was nice, what that meant wasn’t.
He sat down at a table with a good view of the water, but all he could think about was Mike’s bad attitude and Dan’s now regular drinking. It was like they hated each other—which didn’t bode well, given that they were living together. He didn’t want to think about the friction and barely restrained anger. He wanted to remember the good times. They’d been friends for longer than they’d been band mates. They’d had fun on the road.
But those memories slipped away, dragged under by his own dissatisfaction and the tension that thrummed when they all got in a room. That was part of his problem; he was trying to force himself to be happy and positive instead of embracing what was going on and using that as a driving force. That’s what Gem and Dan had done in One Mistake. Both of them feeling the sting of a breakup. And while he didn’t know the details—or want them when it came to Gem and his sister—the emotion was there, and that’s what the audience connected to.
He pulled out his phone and tapped a note out to himself. It was that idea about monsters beneath the calm surface that wouldn’t leave him, even though he didn’t want to work with it. Given it was all he had, for the moment he’d see where it went. Typing on the phone wasn’t the same as handwriting and letting the idea spread over a page, but there was enough that he’d be able to look at it when he got home.
The blonde woman from last time appeared from out the back. She worked here. That was why the staff knew her. Yet she wasn’t wearing the staff shirt, just a plain pink t-shirt and a denim skirt. Did she own the place? She didn’t seem calm this time. Her lips were pressed together and she was rushing out the door with no time for coffee or cake or her book. He resisted the urge to turn and watch her walk away.
Anonymity.
He glanced at his board shorts and faded surf t-shirt. In some places he didn’t exist.
Olivia needed to get home, grab Ethan, and then head out to check out some day care centres. After making a few calls yesterday she’d narrowed down the list—many didn’t have vacancies—and while at the moment she was hoping for one day a week, next year, depending on her job situation, she’d try for a couple more. She wasn’t sure if her mother would be relieved or hurt, but Olivia needed a plan that involved more than crossing her fingers and hoping that she wouldn’t lose her job.
The reality of sending her baby to childcare instead of letting him be at home scared her. She hadn’t wanted Ethan to go in case something happened to him. His start in life hadn’t been the best—not that anyone would realise from looking at him. But keeping him home wasn’t fair on him. He needed to make friends and play with other kids on a more regular basis.
Hot air rushed out of her car as she opened the door. She waited until she was sure her face wouldn’t melt before leaning in and putting the key in to get the car and AC going. Nothing happened.
She tried again, this time with the accelerator down. Then she remembered that flooding the engine would make it worse.
“Shit.” Olivia glared at her car. Of all the days it could pull this crap. She tried once more. “Please. Please. Please.”
The patron saint of dodgy cars wasn’t listening.
The car park was conveniently empty of anyone who might help. She was going to have to go back into the café and ask for a jump-start. Sadly, it wasn’t the first time and she had a set of leads in the boot. All she needed was a volunteer.
Yeah…the people who drove these nice cars with their fancy electrics and shiny new car warranties weren’t going to help her out.
She slammed the car door and walked back to the café.
The surfie guy was nursing his coffee. He looked vaguely familiar. Then she remembered that he’d been here the other day too. He’d sat near her, but hadn’t said anything. She’d kind of wanted him to at the time…by the time she’d got home she’d forgotten about him.
As she walked up to the counter, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He was worth a second look, even if his hair was too short. Military short or just got out of prison short? She hadn’t seen him in here before. Was he was on holiday?
With a sigh, she turned her attention to the staff behind the counter. “Hey. My car won’t start. Can any of you offer me a jump?”
“Sorry, I rode.”
“Bus. Three more weeks until I get my licence back.”
Damn it. It was okay. She wasn’t late yet. She was used to adding in cushion time in case something came up.
Fucking car. If she’d got it serviced two months ago, this wouldn’t have happened. And if she didn’t have a job she wasn’t going to be able to pay for it in the new year either. Between now and then she had Christmas to worry about.
Someone walked up behind her and she sidestepped so they could get served. She was cluttering up the front counter as tried to work out what to do. She really didn’t want to have to call her mother.
“I can give you a jump-start.”
She knew before she looked that it was him. The surfie guy.
No one else in the café would bother. The old couples were involved in their own conversations and the well-dressed people would simply pretend they hadn’t heard a thing—wouldn’t want to risk getting their hands dirty.
“Are you sure?” Why was she giving him the chance to change his mind?
“Yeah. I was leaving anyway.” He smiled and it lit his eyes, too light to be brown. Hazel then.
Her lips started moving before she stopped. She shouldn’t be smiling at him. She didn’t know who he was. But he’d offered to get her car going and she couldn’t say no.
“I’m in the car park behind.”
“Beachfront. I’ll come around.” He walked off without waiting. She hadn’t got his name, not that it mattered when his car had a working battery. He was exactly what she needed.
The ring on her necklace swung against her skin as she went back out to her car, but she was thinking of his smile and then the way she’d stopped herself. Why had she done that? When was the last time she’d smiled at a guy and meant it? She gave out plenty of fake café customer smiles. She should’ve let herself smile at him—if only because he’d come to her rescue.
A blue wagon that had seen better days pulled into the parking lot and parked near her. She looked at the faded
red paint of her car and she wasn’t sure who was going to be helping who…although his car was running.
She popped open her boot ready to grab the leads, but he pulled out his own set.
“This has happened before?” He pointed at her leads before opening up her front door and locating the hood release.
“A couple of times.” Each time more mortifying than the last. So far she’d been lucky that Ethan hadn’t been with her.
“Is the battery charging?”
She had no idea. “I need to get it serviced.”
He had a quick look under the hood. “Everything’s connected, so in theory it should go.”
“Are you a mechanic?” That would be too perfect.
“No. I know enough to be dangerous.” He pointed at his car. “I have to.”
Her lips twitched again, this time she let the smile form. To hell with it. He was going out of his way to be nice and helpful. What did she have to lose? “I’m Olivia.”
“Ed.” He held out his hand.
She clasped his hand. His skin was warm and there were callouses on his fingers. The brief contact sent a shiver over her skin despite the heat of the day.
“Always polite to know whom I’m about to jump.” Another quick and deadly smile formed on his lips.
She was sure he was talking about the car. Although there was a glint in his eyes, she couldn’t be sure. It was hot standing out here. The heat was radiating off the pavement and up her legs. Off the cars and onto her skin. She wanted to fan her face but didn’t want to give him a reaction. Think of something clever to say…
“I’m guessing you don’t let your car hook up with any old car.”
“Until I got the alternator replaced my car would hook up with anyone with a working battery. She wasn’t fussy and neither was I.” He had a nice voice, the kind that would be really easy to listen to, and a sense of humour.
Her smile broadened. He might be flirting with her. Unless they were talking about the cars. Which they might be.
Ed put the red lead on his battery, then walked over to hers. She was glad he knew what he was doing, as the last time she’d had to do it and it had been a little nerve-racking, despite her dad talking her through the process. Ed repeated the action with the black lead.
“Okay, do want to give it a go?” He smiled at her, his eyes squinting against the sun.
She glanced at his wagon. Did it have enough juice for both of them? “I’m not going to kill your car?”
He shook his head. “You might be doing me a favour if you did.”
A laugh caught in her throat. She tried to start her car, again.
This time it worked. She sighed and let some of the tension drain away. She’d make it to the meetings on time. “Thank you.”
He shrugged. “It was nothing. I’ve been on the other end of the leads and know how shitty that feels. Not everyone is willing to help out.” He started packing up the leads. “You need to let it run for a bit to recharge.”
“I know.”
“Get it serviced before the problem gets worse.”
“I know.” It was on her list.
He shut the back of his car. “Do you work at the café?”
He already thought she did so there was no point in denying it and there was no need to keep her distance either, but it was a hard habit to break. “Yes. You surf here often?”
“When I can. It’s nice to be home.”
“You work away?” Fly in/fly out workers usually had better cars. They had money to burn and were pushing up the prices for those who didn’t.
Ed nodded. “I spent most of the year over east.” He looked at her again and she had the feeling he was about to ask her something.
For a moment she was as light and delicate as a butterfly. That glint in his eyes was desire. He wasn’t looking past her or pitying her. He hadn’t said anything about the kiddie car seat in the back of her car, and he had to have noticed.
And she had to get home.
She shouldn’t be standing here talking to him. He was a stranger…who had helped her. She wouldn’t be able to forget him this time. The way he smiled at her, and lifted his hand to shade his eyes against the sun. No doubt his sunnies were in the car. It wasn’t just her car that had been jump-started. A spark of something else had taken hold. When was the last time she’d wanted to reach out and touch a guy?
She curled her fingers. Not one day had passed with the ring off and she was already smiling at random guys. It was liberating as well as terrifying. As if she was walking closer and closer to the edge off a cliff to see what would happen. “I should get going.”
He closed the hood gently, as if the car were actually worth something. “I hope you don’t have any more dramas.”
So did she.
He glanced at her car for a moment before looking back at her. “Maybe I’ll see you here and we could have coffee?”
Olivia blinked. Did he just ask her out?
The last time, the only time since Miles, had been a complete disaster. She’d wanted to hook up and reassure herself that she was attractive and he’d freaked out at the scars. That had been a year ago. After that it had been safer to hide behind the ring. Safe, but lonely and not where she wanted to be.
This was different. It was only coffee.
Her stomach bunched up and panic fluttered in her throat. She couldn’t do it. “Maybe.”
Before he could ask any more questions she didn’t know how to answer, she got into her car. When she glanced back in her rear-view mirror, he was leaning against his car, watching her drive away.
Ed was pretty sure he’d asked her out and that he’d been knocked back. That smarted more than the graze on his foot. He glanced down, it didn’t look pretty. Give it another day or two and it would be fine. The skin would scab.
He was going to have to avoid the Indiana Swan because seeing her would be like picking at the edges and reminding himself what had happened. It had been a while since a woman had turned him down. It had been a while since he’d had to ask a woman out.
When he’d heard her asking for a jump-start he couldn’t believe his luck. And while she didn’t look as calm as she had been the other day, that had made her seem more approachable. That and the lack of ring.
Perhaps it had been on her other hand and he’d remembered wrong, but he doubted that as he noticed if there were rings. They were the women that he stayed well clear off. If it was a dress ring or one she put on to keep guys from hitting on her, he’d proven the case for wearing it. He let out a slow breath. The hot metal of his car was heating up his back. He was hungry and he wanted to get home.
But he didn’t move straight away and he was still smiling.
When she’d looked at him there had been something there, enough to make him step onto the edge and see if she’d meet him again, deliberately. Coffee wasn’t a real date, but it was more of a date than he’d had recently.
He scuffed his flip-flop on the asphalt. He’d been really hoping she’d say yes.
But she hadn’t said no either.
Chapter 5
The sitting and thinking about ideas and what they wanted the next album to sound like had been more productive than he’d thought it would be. When they met in the garage everyone seemed less tense. If anyone had ramped it up a little further there would have been fists and words that couldn’t be taken back. It was an idea he’d now spent a couple of pages exploring—not that he was going to share because a melody and a couple of lines weren’t enough, nor were they quite what he wanted to say. Not yet anyway.
However they had all agreed that the darker side might be interesting. Given that One Mistake had already started down that path, they might as well walk it and see what happened.
Mike took the cover off the old keyboard. It was one of those things they had, but didn’t use very often. Gemma occasionally tinkered, but Mike had actually sat piano exams and knew what he was doing.
When he took the cover off they
all listened.
He played a couple of scales, as if to reacquaint his fingers with keys instead of drumsticks. Then he launched into a classical piece that was suitably dark and mood setting.
Without warning he stopped and started playing something else with his right hand. “I was thinking about this all night.”
“I thought you were out banging some chick.” Dan was sipping his first beer of the day. Slow and constant so he’d be able to drive home. He wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t being sensible either.
Mike and Dan had been arriving in separate cars, despite being roommates, reluctant roommates. Ed glanced between the guys, not wanting the situation to boil over but not sure what to say. Saying the wrong thing could make it worse.
“I’ve been staying with my mother since you are cluttering up my place.” Mike’s fingers hadn’t stopped what they were playing. After a moment he added in his left hand, tried a couple of different things then played it all again. It wasn’t much. Thirty seconds of music. But it had that stuck-in-your-head quality that good songs had.
“Any plans for it?” Ed closed his eyes as he listened. All he saw was Olivia saying maybe and getting her car and driving off. Not meant to be. It was probably for the best. He didn’t have the time to put into a relationship and next year he’d be back over east.
“Nope…I got nothing beyond this right now.” He flicked a few switches and recorded what he’d been playing.
“You need to take it into the verse,” Gemma said.
Mike nodded. “Unless this is the verse.”
Ed listened again. “Gem’s right. It’s the sticky chorus.”
“Dan?” Ed glanced over his shoulder.
Dan shrugged. “It doesn’t feel like a breakup song, doesn’t feel like love either.”
“Not everything has to be about love.” Mike stopped playing and let the recording take over. “Do you want to get that down?”
Ed grabbed his tablet and opened up the app. Once they’d done it all by hand, painfully transcribing songs. That experience had given them a great appreciation for music. Of course Mike had excelled at that. He was actually musically gifted, as was Gemma. He and Dan had limped along with the theory. Yet somehow when they talked it was always his band—a band that had gone through four different names before settling on one. It had been him who pushed for gigs and made the dream seem doable. If he failed, they all failed and they’d wasted years of their lives being broke when they could’ve been doing something else.
