by Allie Hayden
I could see now the trance that the audience seemed to be in, becoming one emotional mass, forgetting their identities and existing only in this space with this music.
And, god, I hated to admit it, but he was handsome.
I found myself feeling grateful and sad at the same time, that this might possibly be the last time I would ever see him.
Because as he sang, as his eyes scanned the crowd, I felt like he was looking for me, like he was singing just for me.
And hell, I didn’t want to fall for him. I knew that would be bad.
After the show, I waited outside on the street for the car I had called. It had taken a bit the venue to clear, and I had taken the opportunity to take a few more photos. These ones were more artistic, just for my portfolio.
But it meant that it was getting late, it was getting dark and cold. The sidewalk was empty when I left; my mind couldn’t help but wander to subjects I promised myself I wouldn’t think about. That was made quite difficult when the subject of my forbidden thoughts pulled up in front of me on a motorcycle. The engine was still purring as he whipped off his helmet to hand it to me like he was a slow-motion Herbal Essence commercial.
“Need a ride home?” he asked, smile dangerously sensual, hair tousled, eyes red-rimmed—from the smoke, the excitement of the night, or the drugs, I couldn’t tell.
“On that?” I asked.
“Yes, unless you have something else in mind.”
“Actually, I uh…called a cab already.”
“Whatever you want, princes,” he said, putting his helmet back on and then revving up the engine. He sped off without another word, and I was left standing there until my cab came, alone with my thoughts.
3. (Lillian)
I was ready to crash as soon as I got home. It had been a long day, and a long night, and I didn’t even know if I had the energy to wash the coffee stains from my clothing. My mind was on the concert as I walked through the neighborhood, having asked the driver to me off a little ways from my apartment building so that I could have some time to clear my head.
The air was still brisk, but now I could smell the impending rain, and clouds were covering the stars overhead. As I mounted the stairs, pulling my keys out of my pocket, I thought I heard the muted sounds of an unfamiliar voice. I assumed it was just something on the TV.
But when I opened the door, expecting to see just my roommate Rebecca sitting in the room with our cat, Coby—I was greeted with another surprise. One that I could definitely have done without.
Standing in the living room, reaching out to pet Coby, was something I hadn’t seen in a very long time. Not since he moved away with his family from our hometown in Oregon. He was just as handsome as the day he left, maybe even more so, now that his dark hair was slicked back out of his face, and his warm skin was clothed in the fine-pressed silk of an expensive suit.
And that smile…I had missed that little half-smile.
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“Sebastian?” He lifted his head and looked at me in shook.
“Lillian?”
“You two know each other?” Rebecca looked between the two of us from where she sat on the couch. “Hold on just a second. Lillian, you know my step-brother?”
“Sebastian’s your step-brother? Since when?”
“Since his mother married my dad. Now, how do you know him?”
Sebastian and I exchanged a look. There was a lot of history and emotion contained in that one moment of eye contact, and I knew that he understood we couldn’t tell Rebecca, not yet at least.
“We were friends before I had to move,” Sebastian explained. “It’s been quite a long time since we’ve seen each other. In fact, I didn’t think we would ever see each other again.” He sighed then, sitting down on the couch next to Coby, who looked at him in confusion and then ran off.
“Oh, I’ll uh, get some tea going,” Rebecca said, her words and hand motions awkward as she tried to figure out the best way to respond to the situation. She scurried away to the kitchen, and I found myself alone with Sebastian.
I decided to sit down next to him.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day.”
“That’s alright, I understand,” he said, and I was filled with the thought of how much of a miracle it was that we’d found each other again. Weird how fate had aligned it just so—so that we might see each other, even if it was late at night and I was exhausted.
“So why are you in New York?” he asked after a moment of silence.
I laughed. “Wow, starting with the important questions, aren’t we?”
“I mean, it’s been a while. I didn’t to just jump in—”
“No, it’s okay. I moved here to pursue my career.”
“And your parents are okay with that?” Or course, he would ask that question. He knew, just as well as I did, how protective my parents could be sometimes. How it came off as controlling more often than not.
I shrugged. “Not really. But I’m an adult now. I had to leave the nest at some point.”
He smiled at that, no doubt thinking of all the times he had told me those exact same words, expect it had been ten years ago, and neither of us had been adults at that point. “I’m glad you’ve learned to think that way.”
“It was only a matter of time,” I shrugged, settling back into the couch and wishing the cat would come back.
“So, what is your career.”
“Well, right now, I work as a photographer for a magazine. But I would like to be a photojournalist. So, right now, I just take photos for interviews and the like.”
He nodded. “Makes sense. You were always good with the camera.”
I blushed, thoughts going back to that night ten years ago.
Sebastian laughed, throwing his head back, suddenly seeming more human, more real.
“Relax, I’m not gonna tell Rebecca. Or your parents.”
I punched him in the arm, “You better not.”
“So, photojournalist, huh?”
“Yeah, I want to travel the world. To capture what’s happening, to communicate those emotions to my audience, so that can feel like they’re there.”
“Do you have any recent work I could see?”
“Maybe, uh, maybe later. I’m kind of tired right now.”
“Of course.”
With almost perfect timing, Rebecca came back into the living room carrying three cups of hot tea with Coby trailing behind, mewling for a treat too.
Sebastian eyed the cat as Rebecca handed him his mug. “Rebecca, I thought you were allergic to cats,” Sebastian said.
She shrugged. “I take the lactose-intolerance view of things. Might as well enjoy life to the fullest.”
“But doesn’t it make you sneeze a lot?”
“She takes allergy medication,” I explained. “The moment she brought home that kitten, cold, wet, and very abandoned, she said she would rather suffer than let that cat die alone. So…we now have a very spoiled cat.” I ruffled Coby’s head, who purred contently.
“Did you two move in here at the same time?” Sebastian asked, looking between his step-sister and me.
Rebecca nodded. “Yes, that was maybe, what, two months ago?”
“Two and half months,” I said.
“So you haven’t in the city for very long either then.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m still settling in. But my job has been helping me get used to this city quite a bit.”
Sebastian sighed, and I could he was holding back a smile as he gave me that stern expression, like he was about to lecture me. “Working as a photographer won’t help you see enough of the city. No, you need a true native to show you around.”
“Sebastian, you do realize I know were born in Oregon, right?”
“I’ve been here long enough to be considered a native.”
“I would beg to differ.”
“Yeah. Sebastian, you’re a lawyer; you should know better,” Rebecca chimed in.
; “Wait, you’re a lawyer now?” I asked.
Sebastian nodded, seeming solemn again.
“A very successful one too,” Rebecca added, “He’s the reason I’ve been able to move out here, despite not getting a job yet…” she trailed off.
That was a source of shame for Rebecca. She wanted to work as a model, or an actress, or a singer; something in the arts. She had been trying hard, attending casting calls and meeting with producers and agents, but she had yet to land anything. She was talented, but the field was competitive, and she didn’t want to use the connections of her step-brother.
“I keep telling you, if you want a job, I can help you get one.”
Rebecca shook her head, “No. I want to prove that I can make it. That my talent alone is enough. I would feel like I was cheating if you got me a job.”
Sebastian sighed as if they’d had this conversation many times before. I was quite sure they must have, from how things sounded. “I told you; I wouldn’t offer to help you unless I thought you truly had potential. Your performance reflects on me as well, you know. I’m just trying to help you a little bit and give you a boost so you can get out of the gates.”
“Which I will be able to do just fine by myself, thank you.”
Sebastian shrugged, raising his hands in defeat. “Alright, sure, whatever you want. Just let me know if you ever need anything.”
“Which I won’t.”
“Besides rent money.”
“Okay, you have no right to hold that against me.”
I watched, amused, as the two step-siblings bickered, sipping my tea and petting Coby. This went on for a few minutes, then Sebastian pulled out his phone to check the time. He cursed under his breath.
“I’m sorry, but I have to get going,” he said, as he handed Rebecca his mug, then embracing her in a warm hug. Then he turned to me. “Here,” he handed me his phone. “Let’s exchange numbers, and then I can help show you around the city some time.”
My heart beat a little faster in my chest as I typed my number into his phone and handed it back to him; the brief brush of our skin caused my face to heat up.
“Sure, that sounds great.”
Sebastian smiled, but it was not that smile of triumph that Ash had on his face when I agreed to stay for the show. It was softer, kinder, pleased, instead of victorious.
“I’ll call you later then. I look forward to catching up with you more, Lillian.”
“Me too,” I said.
4. (Lillian)
After Sebastian closed the apartment door, I felt like I could finally breathe again. There was so much I wanted to say, and yet, I knew it was not the right time, not just after meeting again. And especially not right after finding out that he was my roommate’s step-brother.
I just couldn’t help but think about him while I turned on the water for a bath and relaxed into the water. The thought of him ran through my head still as I blew dried my hair, as I got into my PJ’s and climbed into bed.
Dammit.
It seemed like we had both grown up so much since last seeing each other. His pale brown hair had grown to a darker brown and was thicker now. It made me stop myself from thinking about running my hand through it, maybe see the expression he might make with those sunken copper eyes of his.
I reminded myself of his hands on my waist, allowing him to feel my fullness, the body I filled up growing into adulthood. But I knew these thoughts were wrong. It had been ten years, and there was no way of knowing if he was still interested in me at all.
Truthfully, I had almost forgotten all about him.
He had become a small thought in the back of my mind, a nice memory, and I wanted to keep it that way. As just a memory. But now that we had seen each other, all that latent lust seemed to reawaken; memories flooded in like a tidal wave.
Those nights were some of the best of my life.
Being with him during that time made me feel whole.
But…if it didn’t work out the first time, what made me think it would the second time?
At work the next day, I uploaded the photos from my camera onto the computer, not paying much attention to the jealous looks I was getting from everyone in the office. Like I thought, the ones I got during our conversation were the best, felt the most natural, and so I edited these and sent them to my editor, lingering for a moment over the snaps I had gotten during the concert.
These were the most powerful. The composition of colors, the dynamics of the movement of the band, the expressions on Ash’s face: they all spoke to the experience of that night. But I pushed the thought of my mind. These were not the photos that my editor would’ve wanted. They would look in my portfolio for sure, but for the interview? Nah.
The assignment was to compliment the writing, not to overpower it. Clarisse would be upset if a photo like this was published along with the interview.
And yet…
I made a decision. One that I knew I might regret later, but at this point, it was the only one to make.
I sent two emails to my editor: in the first were the photo of just Ash, and in the second, my favorite shots of the concert, with the message: Just in case these might add to the story.
Clarisse was…just a little bit upset. But mainly pleased. Because our editor was pleased, and most importantly, the readers were pleased. Thanks to the raw and emotional photos of the concert, the issue of the magazine did quite well. It did so well that the editor wanted to do another story with Ash, and with more photographs from me.
I was informed of this when the editor walked up to my desk with this massive smile on her face, slamming a copy of the magazine onto the table.
“Lillian, do you know what this is?” she asked.
“The latest issue of Illusions?” I asked, not knowing if it was a trick question of something—it certainly seemed like one.
“That’s right. And, our most successful issue to date. We’ve already had to reprint several times, thanks to your photos.” The editor flipped the magazine open to the story on Ash Bennet, and I saw, to my rising pleasure and horror, that the magazine had printed not one, but several of my concert photos. They weren’t just little asides, either, or half pages, or even full pages. They were spread out across two full pages, colors vibrant, and the details overwhelming.
I didn’t know whether to scream, or laugh, or cry, or just run out of the office in pure joy and loathsome embarrassment.
“We want you to photograph another story with Ash,” the editor continued, and now I really felt like I should run away. Another photography session with Ash Bennet? After that concert? Nope. Bad idea. Very bad idea.
“You want me…to photograph him again?”
The editor nodded, “Of course. You truly understand how to capture him, how to capture the emotions of the moment. Your work is brilliant! Genius! Why would we ask anyone else?”
“Thank you,” I said as I felt my face become redder by the minute. I had never received this kind of praise from my superiors before. It felt good, but also, I was going to have to deal with Ash again.
“Now, this time we’re going to do things a little differently. The interview was wonderful—Clarisse did the good job she always does—but it was your photos that made fans feel like they were connected to the elusive Ash Bennet. So, we’re going to be doing a photojournalism piece. Just you, him, and that lovely little camera of yours. It’ll give the audience an idea of what Ash Bennet is really like, off-stage. We’re thinking of making it a series.” There was awe in her eyes.
I could barely breathe. Was this real life? Was this my office? Were those my fingers moving? Was this woman really speaking to me?
The moment felt too strange, too unreal. Nothing like this would ever happen to me, surely. I must’ve been dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or…something.
“So, you need to do good on this one, okay? If it sells well again, we might make this kind of story a recurring thing in the magazine.”
That was all I ever wanted to
hear; it was like my dream was coming true. But I was felt like I might throw up, from the shock and the pure excitement.
“Okay,” I said as I tried to keep my composure.
“Oh, and by the way,” the editor looked over her shoulder as she was leaving, “you’re scheduled to spend all day with Ash tomorrow, for the story.”
I nodded calmly.
All day with Ash Bennet. I thought I might just die.
5. (Lillian)
I stood on the sidewalk outside my building, camera in hand, waiting for Ash to show up so we could start on the story. It was a typical autumn day: crisp and ever so slightly chilly. The days were shortening and becoming colder as New York usually did during this time of year. It reminded me that I needed to start dressing in more layers.
I spotted him then, pulling up on his motorcycle, his hair was blowing around in the wind beneath his helmet. I snapped a couple of pictures and then tucked my camera safely inside my bag as he came to a full stop next to me, holding out another helmet.
“Here, put this on, and hold on tight,” he said with a grin.
“We could have just taken a cab, you know. Or the subway,” I said as I took the helmet from him, knowing I didn’t have much of a choice. I fastened the chin strap so it fit snug on my head. I slid onto the back of the motorcycle, hesitating before wrapping my arms around his waist.
His body was warm and sturdy against mine, and it shook as he laughed. “And what would be the fun in that? Your magazine wants the true Ash Bennett, and here he is, in the flesh.”
“The true Ash Bennett takes some unnecessary risks,” I said under my breath. But, being very close, I knew he could hear me.
“The motorcycle is just part of the package, princess; either take it or leave it.” He revved the engine and sped into the traffic.
I resisted the urge to scream, shutting my eyes tights against the wind, holding Ash even tighter as we swerved around taxis and angry commuters. He let out a loud and wild exclamation of pure enjoyment, and to me, it seemed almost mocking of my fear.
