Oceanside

by Michelle Mankin

  “Alright.” I gave him a nervous head bob. He dipped his gaze. I suddenly wanted to snatch it back. The lyrics gave too much away. About my feelings. I could see the sudden tension in his frame as his eyes moved down the page.

  “There’s a lot of uncertainty in this song.” He lifted his gaze. “Pessimism with the hero. Me?

  “It’s just a song.”

  “Hmm. It’s somber. Not as hopeful as ‘Tomorrow Today’.” His fingers tightened on the pad. “My influence?”

  I shook my head. How could he think that? Did he not read the part about him being my hero? I tried to explain. “The other song was for my mom. To remind me how she was and how she would want me to be even without her.” My throat clogged. I swallowed to clear it and continued. “This one is a love song.” His considering gaze immediately became more intense. “I mean not that I think we are,” my hands fluttered, “or that we can be, but maybe…” I trailed off and I could feel the attention of Ramon and Diesel on the periphery of my vision, but I focused on him. “But I hope we can. Trying is hoping for more, isn’t it? Otherwise why even try in the first place, right?”

  “So your theme is hopeful possibility.” His voice sounded as thick as a southern California fog.

  “Exactly.” I nodded my head vigorously.

  “That’s you in a nutshell, gypsy rose.”

  “Ok,” I allowed. But didn’t he see the possibility in us, too? My brow creased. “That’s a good thing, right?

  “You are a very good thing.”

  I smiled slowly, and he gave me one of his own in return. I pulled in a shuddering breath. I’d been so tense during that interchange that I’d only been shallowly sipping air. I gulped it now, gobbled it greedily down like I did his affirming words.

  “We finished the stuff for Ramon’s album an hour ago.” Had I been in the conference room that long? I hadn’t realized. “We’ve been messing around on the individual components of your song. Would you like to try to put all the pieces together with us? See how it sounds?”

  “Work on my music with the Dirt Dogs? Are you serious? Hell, yes!”

  “Good.” He grinned. “Go get your new guitar, Fanny. It’s in studio five. As soon as you return, we’ll bring that song to life.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Ashland

  “So,” Diesel began as soon as Fanny disappeared. “You met this chick before and reconnected recently.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded.

  “Wow. Well just based on the song alone I’d say she’s onto you, dude.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I protested. She knew what I had shared and had that startling knack for drawing accurate conclusions. But I wasn’t totally fatalistic like the guy in her song. Was I?

  “She does,” Ramon confirmed. “She reads him like you read a surf forecast.”

  “Fucking A, that is serious. I need to get off the island more. Homeless girls that turn out to be Academy Award winning artists in disguise?” Diesel shook his head in disbelief. “Only in OB.”

  “You do need to get your ass out here more,” I agreed, “especially since you’re collaborating with Ramon.” I thought it best to steer clear of the topic of Fanny with the self-proclaimed man whore of the group.

  “We’ll get to that in a minute.” Diesel glanced toward the door that remained empty and then back at me. “But just so you know, there are only two types of women. Ones who just want to fuck around, like your Renee. And ones like Fanny, who mean business, as in a ring so they can own your ass.”

  “Renee is not my Renee.” I recoiled at him making a comparison between Renee and Fanny. Diesel and Ramon exchanged a look. “Shit, man. Give me a little fucking credit. You know me. Would I bring Fanny into the studio to hang with us if she were just another meaningless lay? Did you not hear what I told her? Do you not see how incredible she is?”

  “They all seem incredible in the beginning.” He waved a dismissive hand at me. “No. No. Don’t get your boxers in a bind. I’m just looking out for you. From what I see she’s got her hooks in you. You wanna fuck her? Fine, but scrape her off fast afterward. Mark my words…”

  “Enough,” I cut him off slicing my finger across my throat. Fanny had reappeared. Her guitar was strapped onto her shoulder and her eyes were wide as a full moon.

  “What’d you hear?” I asked her, getting right to the point.

  “The fuck and scrape her off part.” Skin blanched of color, she licked lips that were obviously dry from the shock. Diesel was not chick friendly.

  “You hear what I told him before that?”

  She nodded.

  “So you know that shit is his own convoluted philosophy, and it’s not where you and I are, right?

  “Sure. Yeah.”

  “Good. Glad we’re square. Diesel’s an asshole, and he knows it. Don’t pay attention to him. Told you that from the get go. Meant everything I said to you, Fanny. You got any doubts or any questions, you talk to me direct. Now let’s play some fucking music.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Fanny

  “Huh?” My fingers loosely wrapped around the mic stand, I swiveled around to look at Ash.

  “I was trying to tell you what the song needs, but you seem distracted.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” Of course I was distracted. I was singing lead with the Dirt Dogs. Ashland Keys on drums behind me. Ramon Martinez on my left side duplicating my chords but playing them better. Diesel Le on the right elevating the song with his groove but censuring me with his gaze. All while his words to Ash repeatedly mocked me inside my mind.

  You wanna fuck her? Fine, but scrape her off fast afterward.

  Was that Ash’s usual pattern?

  On the one hand, it certainly seemed to be. Never kissed anyone. Never even tempted by the groupies, not that he lumped me in that category. He’d made that clear on more than one occasion. But what was I to him?

  The trying for more thing wasn’t a promise. In fact, at the moment, it felt awfully nebulous. He might say positive reaffirming things about me. The intimacy we’d shared in his bedroom might be an indication that he was taking us beyond friendship, but friendship meant different things to different people. To him was this just a test drive to see if we were compatible? Or more troubling just another arrangement like he had with ‘not my Renee’?

  A love song brimming with hopeful possibility.

  Could I have been any more obvious or impulsive?

  That’s you in a nutshell, gypsy rose.

  Me not him.

  A definite distinction.

  So here I was with my heart out in the open, penned on paper no less, my feelings exposed for all to see.

  “Do we need to take a break?” Ash asked. He sat on a stool behind his drum kit while I stood a couple of feet away, yet he was the one with the upper hand.

  You got any doubts or any questions, you talk to me direct.

  Yeah I had doubts. But did I want to question him about them and potentially have each and every single one of my reservations confirmed?

  “No, I’m ok.”

  “If you’re sure.” His brow crease deepened as he searched my features.

  “Just feeling a little out of my league with you guys.” I let out a little nervous laughter. “I mean I got lucky with ‘Tomorrow Today’ but it’s just one hit. Not a career certainly. So I feel a little silly standing here with real musicians who have proven it time after time.” I cast my apologetic gaze to Diesel and Ramon then returned it to Ash. “Maybe instead of a break, we should just call it quits.” I released the pole, my fingers curling tight into fists at my sides. Would he give me this out? Would he let me off the hook I had skewered myself on?

  Ash frowned.

  A voice cleared on my left. “Appreciate the compliments, Red,” Diesel said. “But the rest is shit. I’ve heard you play, heard you sing. You’re a real musician alright. It’s your heart that makes you an artist not the number of hits you have. And your pretty little heart is splattered all the fu
ck over this piece.”

  Oh, ok. Just great, I thought and sighed.

  “It’s not my type of thing, mind you, but I can certainly see where it might be for a lot of people. Ash wasn’t blowing smoke. You’re onto something with it. It’s cute that you’re humble, but don’t waste my time. Or Ramon’s. Or Ash’s by giving up. Alright?”

  “Ok,” I nodded.

  “Great,” he acknowledged and turned to Ash extending his hand out with a flourish. “You were saying.”

  “Fanny, I think you ought to change your key and maybe your inflections on the chorus.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “To make it stand out more,” he replied. “To accentuate the theme. If Ramon could do harmony with you…”

  “No way, man. I’ll do what I can to help, but I’m not singing a romantic duet. Let Fanny do the harmony track.”

  “No.” Ash shook his head. “That’s not the sound I’m looking for.”

  “Then loop your drums and come up here and show us what you’re talking about.”

  “Alright.” Ash picked up the remote control he had set aside on a small table beside him while we’d been talking. He stood, his faded grey Dirt Dogs’ t-shirt molding to his chest and turquoise board shorts hugging his narrow hips and muscled thighs. I watched him as he smoothly navigated the tight quarters pretending not to notice my heart beating faster as he came closer.

  “Mind if I share your mic for a minute, gypsy?”

  “Of course not.” I replied breathily. Singing with Ash? I quickly tossed my misgivings aside. Yes, please.

  “Ok. Squeeze in here close. No guitar picking for you right now.”

  “Alright.” I unclipped my strap and carefully placed the autographed Martin in a nearby stand.

  “Good.” He placed his hands on my shoulders, his fingers flexing into my skin as he shifted closer and peered down at me. “Just you and me now on the mic while we try this out,” he said low, his expression serious. He meant more. Like him and me more. I knew it by the way he spoke and the way he was looking into my eyes. My skin vibrated with the intensity he radiated. “Ramon,” he called while still holding me captive with his gaze.

  “Yo,” the guitarist replied.

  “Give us that riff.”

  “You got it.”

  “Diesel…”

  “Already on it,” the bassist cut in.

  “Good. Ok.” Ash eased back to hit a couple of buttons on his remote and the sound of his steady drumbeat filled the room. “We’re starting the song again on three.” He squeezed my shoulders. “You ready?”

  “I am.” I realized in that moment with him touching me, with him staring deep into my eyes that I was ready to go wherever he led.

  “Me, too. Let’s go.” He released my shoulders, but the tether of his gaze remained to steady me. “Counting it out.” He stretched out his hand and held it up in the air. “In one, two, three, four.” His eyes on me shone crystalline blue like the ocean, deep, vast and compelling. Lips lifted to the mic, I sang the intro to him. He angled his head reflectively, his gaze burning intently while I poured out my soul. On the chorus, he took my hand. He brought me closer as he lowered his mouth to the mic. Our swaying bodies separated by only a couple of inches, our lips each pressed to the mic, we sang the words together. His deeper voice melded with mine, not overshadowing but enhancing it. I couldn’t help but smile by the time he drew back to give me the mic again so I could sing the next verse and the bridge alone. He kept my hand, and his fingers pulsed around mine. His entire focus was on me.

  Only me.

  Then too soon the final chorus came. Eyes to eyes. Fingers entwined. Lips to the mic. Together. Watching Ash tap out a beat on drums for my number had been one thing.

  Singing the words I had written for him…to him…with him?

  Nirvana.

  Seeing him move in sync with my rhythm?

  Heaven.

  Dancing that dance for him I had imagined when I had visualized the song?

  Paradise.

  Singing a duet with Ash?

  Words couldn’t describe my state of bliss.

  ~ ~ ~

  Ashland

  “Work for you?” I asked her as if unaffected by it all. But inside I was like a shaken champagne bottle ready to explode from all the intense pressure it took to control all that I felt for her.

  “Our voices blend well.” Her pretty face was still tipped up to mine. The light purple bruising visible beneath each eye failed to detract from her beauty, only lending an element of vulnerability to her overall appeal.

  “They do,” I agreed, looking into her eyes and feeling heat rising within me. I wanted so very badly to test this chemistry between us, knowing with an ever-growing certainty how well we would bond together. But only if I could keep myself in check. With that in mind, I unthreaded my fingers from hers, brushed her soft cheek with my lips and whispered to her and myself a promise. “Soon, little rose.” As I withdrew I saw the needful shiver roll through her. The heat inside of me became a blaze of masculine satisfaction. I would make sure the boyfriend back in San Bernardino never factored.

  “Not soon enough for me,” she muttered grumpily, and I laughed. She had me letting my guard down a lot lately. Diesel was right. She had her hooks in me. But something he didn’t understand was that her effect on me was far more than physical.

  “You guys do realize we are still here? In the same room? Watching you?”

  “Yeah Diesel, about that,” I began, swiveling around and giving him the ‘get gone’ glare. “Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?”

  “Actually he does.” Ramon chuckled. Our sparring always amused him. “Only his somewhere else is the same as your somewhere else in this case. And Karen’s already out there. She’s sent me about twenty texts.”

  “Hell yeah. Enough fucking work. Saltwater’s good for the soul. The ocean’s my therapy. And when I unleash my fins on you two,” he wagged his finger back and forth between me and Ramon. “Gonna make you both my bitches.” Diesel whooped. “Surf time, baby!”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Fanny

  “Are you sure about me wearing this?” I asked as I walked side by side with Linc and Simone to the beach.

  “It’s what I’ve got on.” Simone toed out of her flip flops and left them by the wall on the sand.

  “Why wouldn’t it be ok?” Linc looked puzzled.

  “He’s a guy.” Simone said to him and me as if that explained it completely. “Go on out, Linc. I’ll catch up.”

  “Ok, babe.” He curled his fingers around her nape, kissed her long and hard, then trotted toward the shoreline. Simone and I both watched as he set his surfboard nose to the ground long enough to fasten the leash to his ankle, and then he was up and running with it again into the water. Yelling, he waved his hand over his head to the four surfers already bobbing on the waves just to the right of the pier. One of them turned around. Ash. His platinum hair glinted in the afternoon sun. My heart fluttered as he acknowledged his cousin with a return wave then looked beyond him scanning the shore to find me. I assumed that he succeeded, though he was fifty yards away, because his gaze lingered in my direction and now my heart wasn’t fluttering anymore, it was flying.

  “He has no clue about the nuances between you and Ash.” Beside me, Simone stared out at the others, too. “All he knows is that his cousin is into you.”

  I started to protest but swallowed it back. Listening to my heart, it told me she was right. Beyond that we would just have to see.

  “But the swimsuit top. The laces.” I sighed. It was very revealing like the open blazer I had worn to the rooftop. I so didn’t want that kind of reaction from Ash today.

  “It’ll be covered when you zip up your wetsuit.” That was a whole other concern. A surf lesson with Simone? Yikes.

  “Yes, but what about afterwards?”

  “You can put a loose tank over it.”

  I nodded, but I would have t
o find a more substantial one than the black see through mesh I currently sported.

  “You rock that olive bikini, Fanny. He’ll love you in it. If he ever comes in,” she muttered. “Once they go out the only thing that’ll bring them back in is hunger.” She turned at grinned at me. “For sex or food. That is for the guys. Karen would stay out there till breakfast, but Ramon will bring her in before then.”

  We both laughed. The guys loved to surf, but Karen’s obsession with the sport was in a category all its own.

  “So around dinner time you think?” I asked, wanting to know when I would get to see Ash.

  “When he sees you in that bikini?” She nodded confidently answering her own question. “Easily. Maybe sooner.”

  I wasn’t so confident about my allure in the swimsuit or my ability to paddle out to him through waves so huge they were crashing and arcing spray over the top of the pier.

  “Hey.” Simone touched my arm as if she could read my troubled thoughts. “They aren’t so big when you’re floating on top of them. The trick is to get on out there without thinking too much about it.” She cocked her head to the side, the ends of her brown ponytail swishing against her slim shoulders. “Advice that could apply to you and Ash right about now I imagine.”

  “Yeah,” I allowed. It was weird to be talking with her about him.

  “I was around your age when I started to fall for Linc. Love’s exciting, but I know it’s scary, too.”

  “It’s not like that with us.” Of course being a big fan, I knew the story about her and Linc meeting here in OB. She had always been the one for him. I certainly wasn’t her. Curvy. Brunette. Super sexy. The holder of Linc’s and Ash’s hearts.

  “It’s entirely like that,” she disagreed. “But I can see that it’s going to take him saying the words for you to believe.”

  I didn’t say anything. Ash falling in loving with me? No. There she was wrong. But if he ever did? Yes, I would have to hear it from him to believe it.

  Gnawing on her lip, she returned her gaze to the ocean, and I figured we were done talking about the topic. “Ash is extremely self-contained. He has his reasons, and I would never betray his confidence by sharing them. Only you are good for him, Fanny. The way he is around you? It’s like we’ve got the old Ash back. The one from before his diagnosis. Better in some ways. I can’t remember him ever smiling so much. But I don’t see him verbalizing his feelings before you do. So do me a favor alright?”