Love Will

by Lori L. Otto

  She laughs lightly into the phone. “They only have good things to say about you. They've been coming over in the evenings to check on Livvy and to play with Edie.”

  “Have you seen my mom at all?”

  “She comes over, too. Not as often because she works a lot. I’m supposed to go to her house on Saturday to teach her how to bake bread like the stuff I sent at Christmas.”

  “I hope that’s not too much trouble.”

  “Not at all, Will. I’d love to do it. I’m happy she invited me.”

  “When do you have Shea-time?”

  “In the evenings and at night. I’m a working girl,” she says proudly. “This is the life I’m used to. And I’m taking Sunday off to explore the city. I’m gonna ride the subway to some different neighborhoods. Jon gave me some suggestions on places we should look at.”

  “Yeah, he showed me the list. Skip number four.”

  “Okay. Will do.”

  “Write down what you like and don’t like about each place.”

  “I’m a step ahead of you. I have my note-taking app already organized, labeled and ready to go. I’ve already populated it with facts about crime statistics, time it takes on the subway to get to NYU, to Perihelion, to Jon and Livvy’s loft, and to your mom’s house. I’ve plotted parking garages nearby for the van we’ll have to buy. I also made notes of parks that are close and restaurants that I’d like to work at.”

  “Okay, then. You don’t need my help. I had no idea you were that much of a planner.”

  “I’ve got this. Download Evernote on your phone and I’ll share everything with you,” she says.

  All of a sudden, I feel lighter. I hadn’t even realized I was worried about us finding a place, but it had apparently been weighing on my mind. “I’ll do that.”

  “Good. All right. I need to go. Let me know when you make it to Hollywood.”

  “I fucking love you, Shea.”

  “I fucking love you right back.”

  “My niece better not be in the room with you,” I tease her.

  “She’s not. Of course I’ll leave you to teach her the colorful words. Have a good day.”

  “I’ve corrupted one child too many,” I confess to her, referring to my brother. “I’ll talk to you tonight. Bye.”

  Noticing that Peron and Bradley are set up to play, I grab my acoustic and join them. Bradley voices his concern for his solos, and asks for my help to add something to them. He’d tried emulating how I play, but his fingers just don’t work quite as quickly and lithely as mine do. The three of us come up with some other very original-sounding licks that he can play very well, and by the time we make it to the home we’ll be staying in for the week, he’s got two of them nearly perfect. I suggest to Damon that we let him play one of them on the album instead of mine, even though it’s not as intricate. After explaining it will keep Bradley’s confidence up, my best friend finally agrees to it.

  Plus, it’ll be what people expect on the tour in the fall. Damon doesn’t seem the slightest bit concerned that the album versions of the songs won’t sound the same as they do in concert. I know they never do, but for the guitar solos to be completely different is a little strange. Still, it seems to be no one’s worry but mine, and I won’t be there to see the reactions, so it doesn’t seem to matter. Damon explains that the producers are adamant to have me on as many tracks as possible. Of course, I’m not complaining.

  Damon and I are sitting with Trina, one of the sound techs, on our final day in the studio, listening to the latest cut of Oleander Petals. For some reason, it was the hardest one for us to get right. Every take sounded too polished for the grittiness of the song. As she tightened a screw in her black-rimmed glasses, I finally asked if Damon and I could sit with her, strip down the effects, and give us control of the board.

  Still, after hours of messing with it, we were all about to tell Sabine and George that we were going to have to scrap the track. Frustrated, Damon and I ended up outside of the studio. He had a glass of whiskey, and I was on my seventh soda of the day. We sat against the brick wall, neither of us saying a word to the other. There was something about the sound outside that spoke to me.

  I ended up recording ten minutes of ambient “silence” on my phone while we unwound from the stressful day. Damon realized what I was doing about two minutes into it. He smirked as he did some meditation exercises, but was ready to follow me into the studio as soon as I stood up.

  Trina helps us mix the sound to the right level, laying it under the track. That was all it took. When I hear the final take, tears come to my eyes. They aren’t from the content of the song, though. I had cried the last tear for my father. They aren’t from how perfect it turned out, either.

  The week had been difficult. It was the most work we’d ever put into any of our music. Everything had to be perfect. We’d done hundreds of takes. Tensions were high every fucking day. At least two of us were pissed at each other every night… but we’d start fresh every morning, friends like we’d always been.

  This is it for me. My last contribution to Damon Littlefield and His Band for quite some time.

  “Mother fucker,” I mumble, wiping my eyes.

  “Don’t you dare start this now, you pussy.”

  “You’re the best friend I ever had, man.”

  His eyes start to water. He looks over at Trina, who he’d been trying to impress all day with no luck. “You’re not dying, Will. You’re going back to school. And then you’re coming back on tour with me… somehow. I don’t know how. We can build a big traveling telescope on top of the bus or something, but this isn’t the last of us.”

  “That’d be amazing.”

  “I’d do it for you.”

  “I know you would. You’ve done so much for me. My life could have been shit when I moved back to New York… it could have gone so many other ways. I’m just grateful that we met.”

  “Tell me about it. I wouldn’t be where I am without you, either. Don’t think I don’t know that. This is your music I sing.”

  “It’s our music.”

  “Yeah, it is. It always has been.”

  “I’ll keep writing it. Better songs. I promise. I’ll make up for not being there. I know I owe you that,” I tell him.

  “You don’t owe me a god damned thing, Will. You owe it to yourself to go live out your other dream, too. You’ve got too much talent to waste, and I don’t want to be the one depriving the world of what you know. I don’t wanna be that guy. That guy sucks,” he says, laughing. “I support you one-hundred percent. I always have because you’re the only other guy I know who does exactly what he sets out to do. That’s why we’re such good friends.”

  I nod my head. “Two fucking dreamers.”

  “Two fucking doers.”

  “Yeah. So, Trina… are you single?” I question her.

  “Who’s asking?”

  “Damon. But for some reason, you seem to be immune to his pick up lines–which have been unusually lame today. He’s a really good guy… it’s his last night in LA. Let him take you out. No strings attached.”

  “Anywhere you want to go,” he tacks on. “I just need to go clean up.”

  “You want take me out?” she asks him, pointing to herself for extra clarity. He nods his head. “I have to go get ready.” I don’t think she’s blinked since I started talking to her.

  “We’ll go somewhere nice so I can thank you for everything you’ve done here today.”

  “Oh, this is a work thing? I mean… just… I–”

  “I’d rather take you out on a date,” Damon says. “But whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

  And now the blinking begins… in double-time. “Date. Yes, please. Should we meet back here?”

  “I can pick you up at your place,” he offers.

  In the limo back to our hotel, Damon thanks me for the assist. “She was a tough one to break,” he says.

  “No, you were off your game. She’s smart, Damon. Maybe my
kind of smart. I’m not sure you’re ready for this,” I tease.

  “If I’ve been able to keep up with you all these years, I can handle her. I didn’t see ‘doctor’ in front of her name.”

  “Yet. You know, someday, I’m positive you’re going to meet someone who inspires you to write some songs of your own. I want you to do me a favor and just start thinking about it.”

  “I think about it.” He shrugs.

  “Start writing down your feelings. Or, just, like a line every now and then. And if you think of even one sentence you think would sound good in a song, make a note of it. Send it to me. I want to help you out. Maybe we can go back and forth or something. I’ll come up with a meter and we’ll write a verse or two together…”

  “I can’t write music.”

  “I’ll handle the music, don’t worry. And don’t stress about it. Forcing it won’t make it happen. Find your inspiration first, and then it will come. It could be a girl… a place… an experience.”

  “You just want more Damon-time…”

  “So the fuck what if I do?” I respond.

  “You’re not gonna be replaced. Not by Bradley in the band. Not by Tavo as a friend. You’re my number one, Will. My go-to. I don’t give a shit how far away you gotta go to see your fucking stars–which, by the way, I’m pretty sure it’s the same distance from New York as it is from Abu Dhabi, but I’m choosing to ignore that fact–you’re still gonna be the first one I call with news, good or bad. And I still expect you at all of my birthday celebrations. I don’t care what you have to do to get there.”

  “I’ll be there,” I promise, already familiar with my schedule and knowing I’ll be in the States. I may get to take a detour to Europe to meet up with him, but maybe I’ll find a reason to visit the CERN while I’m there and make a work trip out of it. “I haven’t missed a birthday in all the years I’ve known you.”

  “All right. What do you have planned for tonight?” he asks. “I think everyone else went out to a club.”

  “I’ll touch base with Shea, if she’s awake. Other than that, just pack up everything. I’ve got some work emails to answer.”

  “Don’t sit at home and cry for me,” he says as we go into the house.

  I laugh at his insinuation. “Out of my system already. Have a good time tonight. Treat her nice, Damon. She was a life-saver today.”

  “Planning on it. Her choice, all evening. I wonder where she went to school? She’s really talented.”

  “You should ask her,” I suggest. “And you should compliment her. Girls like that, and conversation’s fun on dates. Try it.”

  “Maybe I will…”

  Chapter 29

  I’d asked my family and Shea to give me time to freshen up at Damon’s new, fully-furnished penthouse apartment instead of meeting us at the airport when we got back to Manhattan. It was a way for me to get cleaned up and to pick up the puppy so I could surprise Shea with it as soon as I see her.

  The dog only peed on Damon’s floor once while I was getting changed. Fortunately, he was locked in the bathroom with me, and Damon never has to know. I’m glad we’re going to Livvy’s parents house, where they have a yard he can play in tonight so I don’t have to worry about him making a mess in their brownstone.

  “I’m leaving!” I yell through the huge apartment. “Expect me back often!”

  “I better see you often,” he says, meeting me at the door with a hug. “Alex just texted and said all your stuff was delivered to Jon’s loft. Guitars are safe and sound.”

  “Thanks. Thanks for everything, Damon. This tour changed my life.” I turn around before I can get emotional.

  “Get outta here. We’re playing pool on Friday. Bring Shea, if you want.”

  “Sounds good.” I pick up the travel kennel holding Gunner and try to remember which way the elevator was, finally spying it to my left.

  “Bring the dog, too!”

  “Okay!”

  All the way to the Upper West Side, I think about the inconvenience this is sure to be, having a puppy at Jon and Livvy’s with Edie, who’s just starting to walk, and Willow, who’s due in just a few weeks. My brother said it was fine, but there was a hesitant sigh first. I know he said it because he had no other option.

  We need to be out of their loft really soon, anyway. This will just speed up the process. We have the money. We have the neighborhoods narrowed down. Shea even found a few buildings that were rumored to have openings any day now.

  “Hey, this is Jack Holland’s house, ain’t it?” the cabbie asks me when we arrive.

  “It is, yeah.”

  “You been here before?”

  “Yeah. It’s nice. Nothing really fancy, though.”

  “He seems like a really nice guy,” the driver comments as he helps me with my things.

  “One of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.” Here you go. I tip him extra, just because I can. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. “Thank you.”

  “Have a good evening.”

  “Will!” Shea exclaims, running out of the house toward me. I set down the kennel carefully to welcome her in my arms and meet her, kiss for kiss.

  “Oh, my God. Who planned this fucking party?” I ask her when I can breathe again. “I can’t go inside like this.”

  She smiles, proud of herself, then looks down at the strange container next to me when the puppy starts to whine. “What is that?”

  “That… is Gunner.”

  “What is Gunner?” She squats down and peeks inside the bars, sticking her finger in and letting the dog lick her finger.

  “The dog… it’s a dog. He’s for you. A puppy now, but he’ll be a good guard dog. The breed’s good for that, and we’re going to train him for that. He’s an Airedale Terrier.”

  “I love Airedales,” she says, not taking her eyes off him. “Can I hold him?”

  “Let me get his leash. He doesn’t have ‘stay’ down quite yet. He’s only four months old.” I hand it to her once I retrieve it from my bag, and she snaps it to his collar after taking him out.

  “Gunner’s his name?”

  “It was Mini… but I didn’t think it suited him.”

  “Well, you didn’t name him Carl,” Shea teases me. “I’m surprised!”

  “Do you like him?” I ask her.

  “I love him.” She picks him up and touches her nose to his. He licks her twice and wags his tail.

  “I think he likes you, too.”

  “Gunner, huh? Is this one of the ten things you’re buying to protect me?”

  I look into her eyes seriously and nod my head slowly. “Maybe, yeah. But, you know… I just want you to feel safe. I won’t be here for a lot of the next two years, so… I’m letting you tell me what you need to do.”

  “Thank you.” She giggles. “I don’t think giving him a similar name as a weapon is quite the same thing.”

  “No, but it’s a good name for a guard dog, right?”

  “I love it. A little threatening, but not. You’re good with naming after all! Thank you, Will,” she says, lifting him once more for another nose-nuzzle. I notice something on her wrist.

  “What’d you do?” I ask as she pulls her hand down.

  “What?”

  “Your arm…”

  “Oh,” she says as she passes me the dog and lifts her hand, palm up. Fresh, black ink adorns her wrist:

  i fell • he caught me

  I pass my thumb over it a few times. “It’s beautiful, Shea, but you’ve never even stumbled, much less fallen…”

  “I fell for you. I fell in love, and with all the evidence I had, it was the most irrational thing I’ve ever done.”

  I sigh and smile at her, then lean in for another kiss. I can’t disagree with her. She took a huge leap of faith with me. “When did you have it done?”

  “When I went back to Minneapolis. It’s just my way of reminding myself to trust you. If I ever feel insecure, I just need to remind myself of that.”

  “It should
say, ‘I fell. He fell harder.’ That should convince you to trust me.”

  “I don’t know that that’s necessarily true.”

  “I think it is,” I tell her, putting my free arm around her. She hugs both the dog and me.

  “But I memorialized you permanently with a tattoo,” she brags. “That has to say something…”

  “I did it better.” I raise my brows and bite my lip until her eyes narrow in curiosity. “Take Gunner.”

  “Come here, little boy,” she says, cuddling him. I lift the sleeve of my shirt and show her the word on my arm.

  “Absolution. I needed a reminder of my own… to forgive myself for mistakes I’ve made, but it was also an opportunity to recognize you as the thing that brings me light and life. I’ve always loved the sun anyway, and I’ve been wanting that tattoo for years, but you’re like a star to the darkness that has always resided in me. You’re bright and warm–”

  “And my initials spell sol… the sun.”

  “Shea-soleil,” I whisper.

  “We can never get married,” she says, then breaks out in a smile.

  “We can’t, because then your initials become a distress signal.” We both laugh.

  “I want to marry you anyway, someday,” she says, not at all hesitant.

  I nod my head, keeping steady eye contact with her. “I can see that happening someday.” I put my hand behind her neck and kiss her again. We stop when Gunner starts to get restless in her arms. “I wouldn’t have asked you to move here if I didn’t.”

  She glances toward the front door. “Your family wanted to give us some time alone, but I think we should probably go in. Are you okay now?” Her fingers brush against my chest.

  “I’m good. God, I’m so happy to see you.”

  Jon and Livvy drive us back to their loft after the party. Jack and Emi had agreed to watch Edie for the night after she’d fallen asleep in the crib in their bedroom. I rub my sister-in-law’s tense shoulders from the back seat, sensing her immense discomfort as she reclines back and tries to relax in her very pregnant state. “Hope that wasn’t too much for you, Liv,” I say to her.