Williams aimed his easy smile at AJ. “Here we are. You’re lucky we had a cancellation. Normally it takes a few months to get in.”
“Whoa.” The studio looked like AJ’s version of Disney World, with all the best toys. The control room looked almost half the size of the studio, and filled with electronic panels.
“First time in a recording studio?” Williams asked.
A little embarrassed, AJ said, “Yeah.” So Williams wouldn’t think he was a complete novice, he added, “But I’ve been in front of a microphone plenty of times.”
“Good.” Williams told AJ to go in and signal whenever he was ready.
AJ walked through the door. When it clicked shut, the silence was pure. No background noise, not even white noise, nothing. Like a blank canvas for an artist, but AJ would use an assortment of notes as his palette. A tingle went through him as he snapped open the guitar case and its echo magnified in the silence. The sounds were AJ’s alone to create.
He pulled the guitar strap over his head and strummed. The tones of the strings had never sounded richer. He adjusted the tuning.
AJ was ready for this.
He gave a nod. After one false start, he got on track. His eyes closed, the vivid image of Cassiopeia brought forth a wellspring of feeling that edged the lyrics. When he finished the last chord, the reverberations of the strings faded slowly away.
Behind the glass, Williams’ face held a look of astonished delight. He grabbed the mic. “Very nice. Very nice. Now, if you like, AJ, we have a few backup musicians who could fill out your sound. Your grandfather gave his approval.”
His approval. That meant it cost extra. “Are you sure, Grandpa? I don’t want to waste your money.”
Grandpa nodded. “It will not be a waste, son.”
Williams moved fast in calling in a drummer, keyboard player and bass guitarist. The guys were a little older than AJ, but at least they knew their way around their instruments. It took them all of two minutes to introduce themselves and take their place, as if they’d done it a thousand times before, which they probably had.
The extra instruments improved the sound a thousand percent. Quick to pick up the beat and the melody, the musicians’ work sounded tight around AJ’s songs. When their hour was up, AJ knew it was the best he’d ever played, or sung. He could have stayed there all night trying various tempos and riffs, learning from their experience.
Williams ushered Grandpa into the hallway as AJ thanked the musicians and packed up his guitar. Man, he hated to leave. And he couldn’t wait to hear it burned to a CD.
“So, AJ.” Williams pushed his hands in his jeans pockets. “How did you like your first recording experience?”
“I can’t even tell you how awesome it was. And I never use the word awesome.” God, he sounded like an idiot.
Williams smiled. “You were pretty awesome yourself.” He tapped AJ’s shoulder. “Now we’ll ship a hundred CDs to you as soon as we get them ready.”
“A hundred?” AJ glanced at his grandfather.
“Yes, one hundred,” Grandpa said. “How else can you fill those backorders?”
Williams winked. “They’ll go like hotcakes.”
Easy for him to say. He just wanted to make extra money.
Grandpa said, “AJ’s had quite a few requests. We hadn’t been able to fill them, until now.” He shook hands with Williams, and AJ followed suit. He walked with his grandfather to the Caprice in a dreamlike state.
Grandpa paused before turning the key in the ignition. “It’s going to happen, son. I can feel it.”
He didn’t even mind when Grandpa sang along with the oldies all the way home.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
AJ paced between the kitchen and the front window as his grandfather prepared spaghetti and meatballs. “Aren’t they supposed to be here by now?”
“Any minute.” Grandpa stirred the pot on the stove.
AJ ran a hand through his hair. “Give me something to do.”
“Set the table.”
As he pulled the plates from the cabinet, AJ saw them as Mike Miller might. Chipped. Worn, like everything in this house. Not that Mom would have told the guy he was marrying into money. AJ didn’t know why it was so important to make such a good impression on him. Maybe the guy would turn out to be a jerk, like all the rest. Still, it was important to his mom. So it was important to him.
He set out the dishes and flatware. The table looked pathetic.
“I know, I’ll ask Mrs. Haggerty next door for some flowers. She has those huge red tropical things in her yard.” He strode to the front door.
“Hibiscus.” Grandpa sipped sauce from the spoon.
Pulling open the door, he said, “Yeah. Them. I’ll be right back.”
AJ turned on the charm as he spoke with Mrs. Haggerty. He complimented her on her hairdo, her outfit. Her garden. He left Mrs. Haggerty’s yard with an armload of hibiscus.
If Grandpa had a vase, AJ could not find it anywhere. He made do with a tall glass. It no sooner touched the table top than the doorbell rang.
He sprang ahead of his grandfather to open the door.
“AJ.” His mom embraced him, and kissed his cheek. She turned to the man standing behind her. “This is Mike.”
About the same height as AJ, Mike looked as AJ had imagined him: short hair, blue polo shirt tucked neatly into khaki slacks. Vanilla. But it worked to tone down his mom’s pistachio nut. She still had her flair of style, but she’d finally paid heed to the less is more creed. Her jewelry was the only overstated part about her, and since he guessed it to be her own handiwork, he couldn’t fault her for shameless promotion.
AJ extended his hand to Mike. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’m not cooling the outside,” Grandpa called.
AJ laughed and held the door open. “Come in.”
If Mike were disappointed in their humble abode, he didn’t show it. With a smile, he said, “Something smells delicious.”
Diana linked her arm through his. “Dad’s home cooking. He makes his own sauce.”
Mike said oh as if it were the most interesting fact he’d learned that week.
“Anyone thirsty?” AJ asked. “There’s beer.”
Diana shook her head.
“Or bottled water,” AJ added.
“Water sounds perfect,” Mike said.
Not to AJ. He pulled out a beer, offered one to Grandpa, who took it without hesitation. AJ popped his open right after.
“So are you two going on a honeymoon?” AJ asked.
“Yes,” Mike slid his arm behind Diana’s chair. “We’re going to Belize for two weeks.”
“Belize.” He nodded. He could easily picture his mom in a rainforest hut, but imagining Mike there took a little more effort.
His mom turned to AJ, as if she’d just remembered he was there. “AJ. After dinner, would you take Mike and I to the beach?”
“Yes. I’d like to see where we’ll be getting married.” Mike smiled at her.
The beach. He hadn’t been there in awhile. “Sure.”
Dinner wasn’t quite so awkward as he dreaded. His mom looked radiant, beaming at her fiancée. Mike couldn’t seem to look at her enough.
Hand in hand, his mom and Mike followed AJ out the door, the few blocks to the Gulf shore. He walked to the inside along the beach as his mother pointed out the spot.
“Isn’t it perfect?” The happiness lighting her face kept AJ from saying no, it’s all wrong. Please don’t get married here.
Mike agreed, but AJ got the feeling he’d say anything to keep his mom happy. For that reason alone, AJ smiled. It would take only one hour or so out of his life. He could withstand it.
After the couple left for the hotel, he and Grandpa sat outside on the patio.
“Seems like a nice fellow,” Grandpa said.
AJ grinned. “At least we know he’s not after Mom’s fortune.”
Grandpa leaned an arm against the glider. “Your mother is a rare g
em. Maybe now she will come to realize her own worth.”
He set his gaze on his grandfather. “Yeah. Then maybe she can teach us how.” All his life, his mom told him he how talented he was. Until he’d come back to Weeki Wachee, away from his own reflection in his mother’s eyes, he hadn’t believed it. Unless he had an audience of girls echoing it. Or Cassiopeia–when she said he was good, it felt true. Now she was gone, and Mom wasn’t there to tell him, either. But it was OK.
For the first time in his life, AJ was learning how to make it true for himself.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sleep eluded AJ. The more he tried to force it, the more restless he became. Thrusting himself out of bed, he slipped on his jeans and a T-shirt. Like grains of sand, the Gulf shore had gotten inside him, followed him home. He needed to go back.
Grabbing his guitar, he tiptoed to the kitchen, where he scrawled a note.
The night air intoxicated AJ as he walked. Something about the wide open sky, so infinitely dark yet brilliant with stars, churned up a wildness inside him. A need to be part of that dark brilliance. Bare his soul to the wide stretch of sea and sky, his voice mingling with their own melodies.
For too long, his life had been off track. Now it flowed forward, and in the direction he wanted to go. He couldn’t help but want to hold it in check awhile. All his dreams were being realized except one. Cassiopeia. None of it felt right without her. He should be on the most incredible high of his life, but joy was beyond his capacity now. Losing Cassiopeia had allowed him to open himself up inside his music as never before. But without her, success meant little.
At the rocks, he played song after song. Losing her also allowed AJ to find new meaning in each song. Now he understood the loss, the heartache. Lyrics were more than just words, they were someone’s life on the page. He held the final chord of a song, letting its reverberations fade into the night. He ran his fingers along the strings, let the vibrations sink into his fingertips. He held the guitar like Cassiopeia had held it. He sat, trying not to think as he watched the swell of the water crest into a wave and crash into shore.
Thinking seemed pointless. Sitting here alone was pointless too.
He stood and shouldered his guitar strap, then turned inland. A clatter of rocks made him pause, to turn back. To wait.
The rush of water to the shore, the breeze in his face were the only sounds.
It was impossible.
He turned again, and the rocks rattled again. He hesitated. No one else was on the beach. It was too late for gulls, or fish. He stood stone still, afraid to move.
Holding his breath, he waited, but heard nothing. When he took a step, he heard it again.
Slowly, he turned back. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was there. Or someone, maybe another mer person. Maybe another had come to take revenge on him for what he’d done to her.
“Cassiopeia?” he whispered. He leaned the guitar against a rock.
A rock clattered at the edge of the sea. Darkness made everything blend together: sea and rocks were one seamless infinite stretch. His heart welled within his chest, and thumped hard.
He closed his eyes and made himself stand still, afraid to breathe. “Are you all right? I’ve been worried about you.”
A smaller sound, like a gasp or a sigh, came from the same spot.
It had to be her.
His pulse quickened as he slid a foot forward. “Just tell me you’re all right. I’ve been so worried. You looked so sick the last time I saw you.” He waited, but nothing. Desperate for some sort of answer, he kept talking, whatever came into his mind. He had to make her understand.
“I know you hate me. I don’t blame you. Even though Chaz said he’d kill you. And me too.”
A rock moved against another. A thrill shot through him. He shifted his feet forward as he went on. “I know it was really hard on you to be trapped like that, but it was better that way. So I could make sure he wouldn’t hurt you. He’s gone now. He can’t ever hurt you again.”
The breeze ruffled his hair as he stood, fists clenched, hope waning. This seemed useless. He closed his eyes. It was time to give up. Go home.
A small voice asked, “He’s really gone?”
His eyes flew open. “Yes.” He stepped forward too fast, then stopped. “He’s in jail, locked away where he can’t hurt anyone.” He eased a foot ahead. “Cassie? Can I just see you, please? Just once?” It was like asking for just one hit of crack, he knew. He’d only want more and more, endlessly on, until it drove him mad with yearning. But he had to see her, see that her face no longer looked pale, her strength had returned.
“Stop,” she said.
He halted, every muscle frozen. His voice soft, he urged, “Just tell me you’re all right.”
“Sit down.”
Like a dog commanded by its owner, he sat immediately.
“Don’t move. If you do, I’ll go. Forever.” From her tone, he knew she wasn’t bluffing.
He sat statuelike. “This is me not moving. Not a muscle. Except my mouth.” And his heart, racing as fast as his mouth. When he realized his knee bobbed with nervousness, he moved his hand atop it, grabbed it. Squeezed. He only let his eyes move as he followed her movements.
Her head, dark as the sea, lifted slowly. Her eyes shifted left and right, up and down the beach.
He kept his voice soft and even. “It’s OK. You’re safe.” His heart fluttered against his ribs.
She leveled her gaze on him. “It wasn’t safe. Before, when you weren’t here.”
“When I was in the hospital? You came then?” Elation made him feel as if he might float away on the breeze.
“Yes. There were too many people. With lights and cords and trucks.” The outline of her shoulders came into view.
“That was Chaz’s fault too. His big mouth. He told them about you. But those people won’t come back, either. We fooled them into thinking Chaz was crazy, that he meant the Weeki Wachee mermaids. And Chaz was crazy, so it wasn’t hard to convince them.” God, he was babbling. He would scare her away if he didn’t shut up.
“They can’t be that stupid.” She laid her hands against the rocks as she floated.
A nervous laugh escaped him. God, she was smart. “That’s the news biz. Short attention span.” The span between her and him was not any shorter. He was ready to beg her to sit near him.
She twisted and sat at the edge, tugging at her hair. “Great. Now I have a knot.”
She moved slower than before. Maybe the stress of the ordeal weakened her. Or she was injured–though there were no visible signs of any wounds.
“I have a comb,” he offered.
From behind her hair, she peered at him. “You do?”
“Do you want it?” His nerves were so fried, it felt as if someone had plugged them into an electric socket. He inched his hand into his pocket and held the comb out.
Too far to reach it, she looked away.
“I could bring it to you, if you want.” His hand trembled with the effort of not moving toward her.
“If you move too fast, I’ll be gone.” The distrust in her eyes felt like a knife in his gut.
“No, I won’t. I swear.” He crept like a slug. “I am slow as an inchworm here. Moving like molasses.” She had no frame of reference for either, probably. “Slow as the moon across the sky.” He was within arm’s reach of her.
She held out her hand. “I get it. Give me the comb.”
He slid it in her palm. “Can I sit here, please? I promise I won’t move.”
Her eyes shone in the darkness. “I don’t care.” She pulled the comb through her long hair, as if he weren’t there.
Sitting so near was killing him. Unable to touch her. Watching the silk of her hair fall against her skin.
“Why did you come back?” he asked.
Working the comb against the knot, she said, “To make sure you were all right.”
His heart swelled in his chest. Until she added, “So I could kill you mys
elf.”
If she wanted him dead, he would die for her. “Go ahead. I deserve it. I’m a coward.”
She clucked her tongue. “You’re an idiot,” she said, almost to herself.
“That too.” He certainly felt like one. He had no idea what he was saying. If it would keep her here, he’d say anything, agree to anything.
Her eyes flashed with anger. “He could have killed us both. And then you left me alone with him, with his knives and his guns and his metal obsession.”
Her accusations fed his guilt. “I should have stayed with you. You’re right. I was scared out of my mind that he’d hurt you. But he was crazy enough to use that gun, Cassie.”
“I have scars on my beautiful tail from his stupid net. And chlorine burns.”
“I kept telling him there was too much chlorine. I’m so sorry.”
“If you hadn’t added more water to the pool, my tail would be as ugly and grey as a porpoise. And my whole clan hates you, you know. I had to talk them out of hunting you down and taking revenge.”
He gripped the rocks to keep from reaching for her. “I understand how they must feel. You have to believe me, I was only trying to protect you. He would have hidden here at the beach and shot you. I had to let him capture you so he wouldn’t kill you. I know it sounds stupid. But it’s the truth.”
Her hand hesitated, then she pulled the comb slowly through her hair.
He ducked his head to see her face. “But you’re all right now?” The dim glow from the light across the street wasn’t enough to show whether her skin color had returned to its normal blush.
“Yes.” She glanced at his face, then his side. “What about you? You were bleeding.”
His laugh sounded hollow. “Yes, my body has a slight aversion to metal too. Especially bullets.”
She turned halfway to face him. “Why did you run at him like that?” The fire in her eyes had returned, at least.
He took her in with his eyes, since he couldn’t touch her with any other part of himself. “He was trying to stop you from going home.”
Surfacing Page 18
