Silver

by Pieslak, Dixie

  Certain she’d be back by evening to perform, I sat at the computer writing and deleting. Cut up half a dozen lemons and sucked them to death.

  Henna has been out of town plenty of times before, but I usually knew where and she’s always back in time to sing. I tried to be patient. By evening I was fuming. I tore into the Tavern looking for Conor. He was setting up.

  I outright growled at him. “Henna’s not here.”

  He stepped back from me. “No, she called in for the night off. Jeff talked to her.”

  I stalked behind the bar and found Jeff in his office. “Henna.” Her boss, so I tried to be nice. “Where is she?”

  Jeff eyed me warily. Guess I should have worked harder on the niceness. “She called to ask for time off. Anyway, Conor takes Monday and Tuesday.”

  My alarm bells were clanging, but I forced nice into my voice. “She wanted time off? Is everything okay?”

  “I’m sure it is, but you’ll have to ask her.” A good boss, he was protecting his employee’s privacy. Doesn't work for me.

  I flipped his mind, careless of anyone who might come in. Too careless. A woman came to the door, calling his name. Jeff sat there, but Jeff was gone. Irritated, I flipped her too, ushered her into the small office then locked the door. “Sit,” I directed. She sat.

  Back to Jeff. “Tell me where Henna is.”

  Moronic gaze. “I don’t know.”

  I got in his face. “What did she tell you on the phone?”

  “She needed to get out of town for a few days. She’ll call when she’s back.”

  “Is she alone?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know much, do you,” I grumbled.

  I released both minds and disappeared out the door. Minutes later I was at her house. No Christina and no Sonar. On the off chance I called a few police stations. No car accidents. No anything.

  Henna’s mother? Out of the country. I broke in the house. Her laptop was gone. Empty hangers. Missing make-up in the bathroom. No back pack. For the first time, I tried her phone. It was turned off. Called the PR. No one even knew she was gone. I sat on her bed and snarled.

  Where does one look for a girl and a dog in Southern California? Everywhere. That night and the next day, I drove the southland. Tuesday, then Wednesday and Christina still not home, either. I ran with Mark and Ev, trying to keep a normal life schedule, but other than those moments of sanity, I made a complete fool out of myself, morose and suffering from some type of unnerving withdrawal. My home was a mess, my life was a mess. I was a mess. And I can't stand being a mess.

  Finally, I drove to Venice Beach with the pitiful idea that she might be visiting some old friend. It was there that I got the phone call.

  “Brecken, Henna's back.” Conor spoke fast and I could hear people in the background. “I’m at the Tavern. She just walked in.”

  “I’m at least an hour from there. Don’t let her leave.”

  “She won’t. Jeff said she’ll be on tonight. She’ll sing after my set.”

  Rush hour had passed and traffic was light. I broke every speed limit and then some.

  The instant I got off the freeway I felt the tingle against my flesh. The rush, the beautiful heat of Henna’s presence. I sat in the parking lot and bathed in it. She would know I've arrived, but she didn’t have to know that every inch of me had been on edge.

  I'm a complete hypocrite. Pathetic. The girl yells at me and leaves town for a couple of days and I go ballistic. Some strong, immortal vamp I am. I snorted, but disgust helps nothing. She was inside and in moments I would be, too. Just another breath to compose. I wanted to be a pillar of patience.

  She was on stage when I slipped into the booth alongside Conor. She was perfect loveliness on that platform and I swallowed her in. Her face, her hair, outfit, everything. The small crowd was sunk in rapt attention as she sang. The tones penetrated to my soul.

  “Did she talk to you?” Voice vamp low. “Did she say where she was?”

  Conor's lips didn't move. “No. She stayed in back until time to play and just nodded at me when she walked by.”

  The song ended and Henna turned, her eyes darting our way. Her gaze touched briefly on my own and slid aside. I blinked. There was something …. Conor whispered and I answered, but there was something I saw. Couldn’t place what it was. Something important.

  Then Henna was speaking and a soft glow surrounded her, a violet shade twisting through the blue. I caught a hint of guile on her face - and unexpected tension.

  “I’d like to play a song I’ve just written,” she said. “It’s called “Just a Chance Encounter” and recalls that amazing man you may have met so briefly, or maybe that woman. It’s a different sort of song, with a lot of symbolism, the mystery of attraction and perhaps just a touch of magic. Maybe it will spark a memory. I hope you like it.”

  She lifted her face to gaze vaguely at the paintings on the back wall, and began to sing. A strangeness seemed to dance in the air and my hair rose all over my body.

  Did it happen?

  Did you dream?

  Was it real?

  Can you recall?

  Just a chance encounter

  Across a crowded room.

  She dances past.

  He strolls close by.

  A flicker of mystery

  Catches your eye.

  All lights but hers go dim

  No one exists but him.

  She stays but a while,

  Lips filled with fire.

  He lingers a bit.

  Takes his desire.

  A touch… a kiss

  Then gone.

  You’d follow him anywhere

  Compelling stranger.

  Her whim, her need

  Compelling, lovely stranger.

  Is now your whim, your need.

  Just a touch … that kiss

  So special

  Then gone.

  Scarcely remembered

  That living fire.

  Perhaps just a dream

  That night of the chance encounter.

  From whence do they come?

  And where do they go?

  Those strange, perfect strangers

  Who entered your life

  The night of the chance encounter?

  We think they walk in moonlight.

  We strain to see them run.

  You think they live in your dreams

  But I saw him, too.

  And he walked under the sun.

  I scarcely heard the applause, so consumed I was with searching the words, probing for meaning. Did it have meaning? It must. It did. All of her songs did. The edge of my mind tingled but, suddenly she was in front of me, eyes sparkly and taunting. I looked directly at her and - saw the ‘something’ that had been teasing at me. The hand made earrings. Her hoop I carried around. Henna was wearing both of them.

  Convulsively, my hand slapped at my pocket. A knowing smile flicked at the corner of her mouth and one eyebrow rose.

  Then Henna turned away, responding to someone at the next table and I rifled through my mind to the last time I’d seen the earring. In the last days I’ve showered but cleaned nothing and my pants were still in a pile on the bathroom floor. I had watched her enter that bathroom and close the door.

  A flush crept through my body. Pretty off the wall, for someone who doesn’t flush, and I pulled back, looking at her as she moved to the next table and the earrings dangled. Damn. I've been Outed, I wanted to leave. I wanted to stay. I needed to leave.

  No point in pretending she wouldn’t notice. Blatantly, I strode across the room and out the door into the safer emptiness of the night. I waited on the porch. Henna would come or she would not. And if not, I'd go get her. Voluntary was best, but okay, too, for me to encase her free will and compel voluntary.

  Chapter 52

  Conor took the stage and I took the time to drive home and change into jeans and a green sweatshirt. Kept the earrings on. I added fresh bo
dy lotion that I had picked up on my little excursion north. Give Brecken a brand new scent for the new me. A scent he wouldn’t have smelled when he snuck into my room. It was the middle of the night, but I expected to find him on the porch.

  His eyes darted straight to the earrings that swung in triumph as I bounced up the steps. I kept my face straight and it was hard, because I wanted to gloat.

  I swung my hair from side to side and the stones on the hoops flipped against my cheek. His eyes were at half mast and fixed on those stones. “Like my earrings do you?” I drawled the words out. He was on the lounge and I took a chair at the table to give me something to lean on. And to keep a little distance between us.

  “Looks better on you than in my pocket,” he admitted.

  Good. No evasions here. “And why exactly was my earring in your pocket?”

  He sighed, but didn’t look away. “I kept it as a souvenir. Idiotic, but there you go.”

  “Pretty obvious you took it from my drawer.”

  “Yes.”

  “And why shouldn’t I be furious and freaked that you were in my room, uninvited and snooping in my things?”

  “You should be,” he said.

  Pretty calm, I noticed. But not me and it came out too shrill. “I am freaked, Brecken!”

  His eyes didn’t waver. “To say I’m sorry would be a lie.”

  Ooh, he's so smooth, so unbothered by my accusations. It made me lower my freaked to a steaming simmer. “I bet you are sorry you got caught, though.” I deliberately let the heat leak through.

  “I got caught.” He spoke directly and with a little shrug. “Got caught and still not sorry.”

  I wanted to punch him. Then I thought about what he said. In my room, shuffling through my belongings and not at all sorry he did so. Don't creatures like him have any morals? Could I call him a creature? Yes, I think so. He's more than human, for sure. So, an immoral creature? Half mast eyes again, watching me think. Let him wait.

  Immoral. The word is strong. Did Logan up in Santa Barbara care that he left that girl alone in the dark? She wasn’t bothered, but she was under some spell, believing they had sex. And Logan took what he wanted and never looked back. Was it crazy to be sitting here trying to talk reasonably with an identical taker of what he wants?

  Of course, I’ve already decided, but now I had the feeling I haven’t even begun to plumb the depths of what this all means. I scowled at the words in my head. Plumb the depths? That’s how Brecken talks, not me. How far into my soul has this creature plumbed?

  He continued to watch me, but at least he wasn’t being cocky. I steadied myself. “Should I assume you’ve broken into my house more than once?”

  “You should.”

  I sort of knew, but the admission surprised me. “Why did you do it?”

  Brecken turned his head, looking out at the dark. “Irresistible,” he said flatly.

  How frustrating, these short, cryptic answers. “What? You just go around doing whatever you feel like?”

  “Pretty much.”

  I almost shrilled again. Control. So it came out flat and dry. “Ever give much thought to breaking the law? Disrespecting someone? Right and wrong?”

  He scanned the sky. “All the time. I didn’t say it was right, Henna.”

  My questions weren't enough. I couldn’t stand it and shrieked at him, blurting one of my deepest fears. “You stalk and burglarize and who knows what else. Would you at least tell me the truth once?” Big swallow. “Am I in danger being here, talking to you?”

  “You don’t think so or you wouldn’t be here.” A tinge of anger this time.

  “That is not an answer.” I started to rise. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

  “No!” The change was abrupt, as the cool veneer shattered and the warm man I knew burst through. “Stay, Henna. I missed you.” His face was softer, almost anxious, his hand held out, but he didn’t stand. Gave me space. “I’m glad you’re back and glad you’re here. Even if you’re royally pissed.”

  Staying wasn’t rational but neither was coming in the first place, and I didn’t hesitate on that. I settled cautiously back in the chair, but my voice was still too loud for the sleeping neighbors. Let him control that, if he could. And I had the thrilling feeling that he could.

  “So where are we, Brecken? I’m a girl dating a burglar. A criminal. Why isn’t that crazy?”

  He closed his eyes. A big part of me wanted to go to him, snuggle at his side on the lounge, hug his strong body and tell him I was happy to be back. I shut off that part of me. I wanted my proof and felt brazen confidence return. No more shrieking. If he could be calm, so could I.

  “Listen, Brecken, I spent a lot of time thinking about us. About you. The whole time I was gone.”

  His eyes opened to me and his fists clenched. He didn’t move or say anything, but I suddenly felt the familiar, light probes that meant he was not hiding, but lowering walls to touch. I was surprised and doubly surprised to think of walls in him.

  “Henna, you're so beautiful. Amazing.” He was tentative but something smooth slid across my skin and the feeling was wonderfully familiar. The barrier he hid behind was down. Yeah, I understood his protective wall better now. I knew what it hid.

  Warmth seemed to trickle from him. I felt it graze me, heard it in his voice. “I looked for you, Henna. Worried about you.”

  I could barely answer. “Worried about my safety?”

  He nodded slowly. “That, yes. And worried that you would decide not to come back.” His eyes swiveled to the ground and I sensed he was embarrassed to be telling me this truth. “Your cousin wasn't home. I went to the Tavern and asked Jeff. I couldn’t find you. No one knew where you were.”

  We hadn’t settled the earring issue yet, much less any other issue, and I refused to be swayed by that embarrassed look and that yummy warmth he was deliberately settling around me. Firecracker anger sparked again. Oh, yeah, I knew his tricks by now. And I loved every one of them, but they were still tricks. So I sniped at him.

  “I have the right to a few days off, Brecken. You take off all the time, remember?”

  “Yes, but Henna, you were so upset the other morning. I had no clue you were angry enough to leave town.” His eyes roamed my face. “I tried to phone you.”

  I forced myself to remain firm. “Phone me? Shocker!” I sounded bitter but I wasn’t, exactly. He worried? If he knew about Logan, he’d be more than just worried.

  He changed pace. “You wrote a song while you were gone.”

  I smirked for a moment and let my voice drawl again. “Umm hmm. Did you like it?”

  “Different. What inspired it?”

  Careful. I wanted confirmation, but dared not be obvious. “Oh, thinking of lost loves, one night stands. That sort of thing.”

  His examined my expression, like he saw the lie I’d just given him. I smiled to cover over. “It’s nice that you missed me. Sorry you were worried, bit I was fine. My guard dog was with me.”

  “Yes.”

  “You knew that? Of course. You went to my house.”

  “Yes.” No hesitation. Straight in your face honesty.

  “Broke in?”

  He shrugged, dismissing that. “I’m glad you took Sonar.”

  I fidgeted with irritation, wanting to shriek at him again. “This is ridiculous. You can’t go around breaking into my home. Are you crazy?”

  He dropped his feet to the side of the lounge and leaned towards me, his voice harsh. “Am I crazy? Because I’m seriously hooked on you? Yeah, I am!”

  I scooted back fast, startled at his tone. “Don't yell at me.”

  Brecken stood and began to pace. I could have sworn that I heard a rough sound in his chest. A rumble? Impossible, but then, maybe not. Maybe I've heard it before.

  He stopped at the other end of the porch and stared up at the sky. I looked at him, so strong, so beautiful, so forlorn. Hooked on me? I knew that already. And I was hooked right back. And scared, but not of him. I
should be and I should leave right now. For good. I should follow my brain, but my heart was louder and I didn’t leave.

  He didn’t speak, didn’t look at me, and didn’t move. I didn’t, either. Minutes passed. I wanted something. My proof, of course. And besides that, what? Then I thought of the shimmer that had drifted between us and was suddenly convinced there was an answer in that silvery energy. I sat straighter and lowered my walls.

  He turned, an odd look on his face, a little wonder in his eyes. My energy touched him, trailed along his body, then invaded, probing deep for the mystery in him - and found it.

  My God, I found it. There all along, unnoticed, undetected for what it was. But I had found it and I recognized the full truth of what he is.

  I was absolutely frozen in place, my mouth hanging open. How could I have not realized before? Some quality like Logan gave off, even before he bit the woman. And I found qualities specific to Brecken. Qualities that I'd been feeling for weeks, qualities that all of me was drawn to. Wonderfully drawn.

  Only a brief moment had passed. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and I felt his barriers rise to block my touch and shelter his secret that was no longer a secret. He squinted slightly, dropped his head and pulled himself into hiding. Then he peered up at me, a soft longing in his eyes and nothing to indicate that he knew he was undone. And I wasn't going to tell him.

  I had no idea how I had done that. Reading people was easy, but I’ve never been able to enter so deeply and so smoothly. To delve that far, to sense so clearly the thing he hid, seemed beyond me. Did he help me do it? I didn't think so. That was me, on a new plateau of my own self. But how?

  I blanked my thoughts, hiding my new awareness of Brecken, and I did a good job of it. Important that I do a good job. He blocked, but not quickly enough and I’d gotten through. I had my proof and still I didn’t run. I didn’t shiver with fear and shock. I stayed and wanted Brecken. I gave up on the earring and all the rest. I let it go. And that was a confirmation of a different sort.