by Adele Hart
When the song finished, the band high-fived each other, all of them stoked by the power of it. Kris felt like it was something they could record for real.
He glanced at Rainy again. He didn’t know whether to let her sleep or to rouse her and walk her home. He went over to her and sank to his haunches so that he was more or less face-to-face with her.
“Hey,” he whispered. He brushed the strands of her hair away from her face.
“That was super nice,” she said in a sleepy voice. “I can’t believe all this. I wish my guys were here. We would have a blast.”
“Give you me your number.”
She smiled.
“I already offered it to you and you said no.”
He played with her hair. “I was going to forward the recording to you so you could send it to them, but if you don’t want to…”
Rainy called out her number and Kris texted her.
“Maybe you were just playing hard to get,” she continued to toy with him.
“I know,” he smiled shyly. “The oldest ruse in the world. Get a gorgeous woman’s number under the pretext of sending her a recording.”
She giggled. “If I had a nickel for every time—” she joked.
“No doubt.” He loved flirting with her. It was different. While she respected his work, she didn’t come across as star struck.
He couldn’t resist. He reached out and brushed her cheek. Her blush was distracting and a great excuse to touch her.
“Grand Canyon? Really?” He shook his head. “The music world should weep.”
Pain wrenched her face. She sat up quickly, folding the blanket that had covered her.
“My parents sent me to school. All the way through law school,” she explained. “Their dream was that I would be a lawyer. So, I went to the University of Maryland in Baltimore. I graduated four years ago. But at the same time, I had a band from all the way back when I was in high school. We never quit playing. We played Cat’s Eye, Sound Garden, pretty cool places. Then I hit the big three-oh. My parents are pressuring me to do something with the money they spent.” She stood up and helped herself to a beer that was in a bucket of ice.
“So Grand Canyon was hiring. I’m like one of a gazillion lawyers who work for them. I’ll be a grunt. I had to take it so I can pay my parents back.”
“So, you had to give up on your dream,” said Kris.
Nodding, Rainy gave him a sad smile. “Yup. It was my life, you know? I didn’t even care if I ever got rich and famous,” she said. “I had a little world and we played almost every night. My parents saw it differently. I went to school to make them happy, and I didn’t realize I would be obligating myself for a lifetime.”
“So?” he asked.
“I’m going to make enough to pay off my parents and then I’m free.” She took a big swallow of the beer. “Anyway, thanks for inviting me over and sharing with me. I’m glad you are my neighbor.” She looked at him with a mix of excitement and resignation. He hoped he was the exciting part.
“We’ll be your surrogate band.”
“Thanks, because my former band mates are mad at me but they have a good replacement. They’ll do okay, but still…” The sadness was back in her eyes. “I should go home and get some rest.”
“We’ll go up to the studio.” He swirled his finger around and pointed upstairs. His band started to gather their stuff.
“No, don’t.” She eyed the instruments. “I want to hear you.”
Just then, one of the guys opened the door to the house and Jimmy bounded into the garage. The huge mutt greeted Kris like he hadn’t seen him for days.
“Rainy,” said Kris as he patted his dog. “This is Jimmy Page.”
Rainy laughed.
“What’s your goldfish named?” she asked. “Robert Plant?”
Kris had to stop and think about whether he would name a pet after that famous front man or not. “I don’t know. I would have to think about it should I ever get a goldfish.”
Jimmy head-butted Rainy, who returned the affection. She took the big dog’s face in her hands and came to life, smiling and baby talking to him.
“Yeah, no,” she said. “Robert Plant would be all wrong. He would have to be like a greyhound or something sleek.”
Kris’s chest rumbled with laughter. He had to agree with her. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t have the time; your band is waiting for you.” Her voice was soft and sweet. “Just walk me to the gate.”
Five
Rainy
Instead of walking around the way they came, Kris led Rainy through his house. He held her hand and she let him. After the intimacy of the jam, it felt right. She noted that the guy who made her hand her plate through the fence had a surprisingly squared away living space.
The home was furnished with a mishmash of attractive pieces, neither overly expensive nor recently store bought. Definitely not a Crate and Barrel guy, but there wasn’t anything strange or weird like the clown statue in his backyard.
It seemed very comfortable with an obvious coastal influence. Contrasted to Baltimore where everything was early American or Queen Anne hand-me-downs, Kris’s house had a lot of Shaker stuff. Rainy was intrigued because it seemed all him. There was no woman’s touch.
“Night,” she bid the other band members who were milling at the bar and in the kitchen, all of which was open and flowing into the floor plan of the home. They seemed done with the session too.
Kris stood tall behind her. In a weird way, his fame sort of worked against the thing that seemed to be flaring between them. If he hadn’t been the front man for a super-successful band, he would simply be a really nice guy she hit it off with. It was hard not to be conscious of who he was. It sort of nagged her like the job she didn’t want. That was the way of the world though. You often couldn’t have what you wanted.
When they reached her front door, she didn’t think to invite him in.
“You know, I’ve been in this house a number of times,” he confessed as he eyeballed the space.
“Yeah?” She looked over her shoulder at her living room.
“I grew up in this neighborhood and I was friends with the kids who lived here in high school.”
“So, you were in a band in a neighborhood like me.” She wanted to kick herself for quitting. For giving up her dream to satisfy someone else’s.
“Yes.” He lingered.
“It’s been nice meeting you.” She felt like it was a first date, but that was ridiculous.
“You say that like we’re never going to meet again,” he laughed.
“Invite me over again.”
She had the strongest urge to kiss him. It was sudden, but she stopped herself. He sure was cute. He looked like all he needed was a cravat and a top hat and he could have stepped out of another time and place. His hair was straight and cut in a gentlemanly fashion. It framed his handsome face just so, especially as the light of her front porch spilled on it.
“’Night.” He leaned forward like he might kiss her and then rocked back and turned away.
She heard his shoes thud against the walkway as she stepped into the house.
The space was way too big for her and far too empty. She lay in bed, hearing the band play in the studio. It wasn’t as loud as the garage by a long shot, but it wasn’t completely soundproof either. She liked the level of noise where she could appreciate their sound without being bothered. Her head was filled with Kris as he sang her to sleep.
Despite the weather being spectacular, Rainy managed to complete the stack of paperwork required for her new job.
The Oregon sky was a beautiful blue and so vivid above the lushness of her back yard. It called to her constantly, making the drudgery of filling out the forms almost torturous. Her mind kept drifting to Kris, his band, his garage, his voice, his sexiness.
She half wanted to walk over to his place and knock on the door, but that would have been ridiculous. While he did give her an open
invitation, she was certain he was being neighborly. She put on her running shoes and decided to go for a walk around the neighborhood. She purposely walked past his home to catch a glimpse of him, but the curtains were drawn and the house looked vacant.
She walked a few blocks and came upon a cute restaurant called the Cricket Café. The fact that it was vegetarian made her smile. She flashed back to the place on Bank Street back in Baltimore where they made polish sausage—a far cry from the gluten-free and meat-free menu she perused now.
She bought a coffee and a side of pineapple juice. The combination seemed random but appealing nonetheless. She chilled, spending time at the restaurant, sending out group-texts to her band mates back in Baltimore. They thought she was pulling their leg when she told them she’d moved next door to one of the biggest names in the music industry.
I’ll have to send pictures next time. They played our tunes.
She sent the text with a smile on her face.
Immediately her bandmate, Dale, called. He was the most upset when she’d moved.
“Be careful with that,” he snapped.
“We have copyrights on all our stuff. If they want to record anything, I’ll make sure we’re covered. Jeez. You’re welcome to come out. I have lots of room. He’s very open and likes having new musicians play.”
Between that and the next conversation she had to have, a feeling of unease crawled up her spine.
She ended the call with Dale and called her mother and father. As a grown woman with a country between them, Rainy felt like she was still under the thumb of her parents.
“Hey,” she said to her mom. “I’m all settled in Portland. The house is really cute.” It was a half lie. The house was cute but she felt anything but settled.
“Are you liking it?” her mother asked.
Rainy didn’t like the place. It was too big and nothing about it felt homey, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell her mother because the nicest part of the experience was meeting her neighbor—a musician. That part her mother would frown on.
“It’s all good, Mom.” She looked between the two drinks and debated which to drink first. Did she sip at the sweet juice or the bitter coffee? She chose the coffee because it matched the mood her mother elicited—strong, bitter feelings.
After a minute of small talk, she ended the call, relieved that she wouldn’t have to check in for another week.
Her phone lit up with a text from a number she didn’t recognize.
Really like some of your tunes. Where are you?
It could only be Kris. Suddenly, hearing from him made life feel rich and full. She was filled with enthusiasm again.
I’m at the Cricket Café. She fired back a text.
He responded like he was waiting for her next text. A thrill raced through her.
Excellent. Which Bloody Mary are you having?
He always had a touch of seduction in his voice—even if it was his writing voice—that made her think of mischief. He could probably talk her into just about anything.
Um… coffee?
She smiled even though he couldn’t see her.
I see you need a tour guide to appreciate the finer points of Portland.
She glanced down at her drink choices and picked up the pineapple juice and took a drink. It was fresh and sweet.
I think I need a lot of things.
I’m happy to help. In fact, I’m probably available for most of what you need. But back to your music, I’d like to talk about your stuff. How about I make you dinner and we can discuss what you need.
Was that a come-on? Did she want it to be? The timing was crap. She didn’t think that having dinner the night before her first day at work was the best plan.
I’m interested. She texted, feeling her stomach move like there was a hundred butterflies swarming inside. Let me focus on work for now but I will get back to you. Maybe the middle of the week?
There was a moment’s pause.
I’m actually not in town right now. I won’t be back until this weekend. So, let me have dibs on next Saturday night. I’m working out the details for a tour.
Okay, and Kris?
Yeah?
It was only a text but she could see his lip pulled between his teeth and she wanted nothing more than to nip it loose with hers.
Let me know how many dishes I have to bring.
She attached a laughing GIF.
I’ll scrounge some up so you won’t have to go to the trouble.
She had to look like an idiot with a smile so wide.
I’m flattered.
Rainy, this could be the start of something beautiful. Who knows, you might have to quit your day job...
Rainy sat up straight. She didn’t have the nerve to ask him to be serious and to clarify what he meant. She didn’t have time to think. A waitress approached her with a drink called the Bloody Maven.
“What’s this?” she asked the waitress, confused.
“Kris Brock called and ordered it for you.” The waitress eyed her like she was trying to figure out who she was.
Rainy smiled. Coffee, pineapple juice and now a variation on a Bloody Mary was not a combination of drinks she would have ever chosen for herself, but she wasn’t about to turn it down.
“Thank you.” She lifted her glass as if to toast the waitress, but she’d already turned and walked away.
She wished she could keep the glass as a souvenir of the drink Benjamin Brock of the Septempermentals bought her. She’d have to be satisfied with the memory. She sat in the Cricket Café and finished off three very different beverages. Each represented something different in her life. The coffee was the bitter truth. The pineapple juice was the sweetness she craved. The Bloody Maven was a mystery. It was everything that was unwritten. She walked home unexpectedly happy.
The feeling carried her through the week as she took a tour of endless warehouses and got bombarded with soul-crushing meetings. She only made it because she knew when the week ended she’d be seeing Kris. While his motive for the meeting was his interest in her music, hers was simply seeing him.
Six
Kris
Saturday could not come fast enough for Kris. Before meeting Rainy, he had actually looked forward to visiting Los Angeles. Malibu was one of his favorite places in the world. The beaches were spectacular and dramatic. However, the people left him wanting something different. When it came down to it, there was no place like home. Now that Rainy was his neighbor that was especially true.
He carried a drinking glass to the beach in front of his place and filled it with sand so he could bring it back to Rainy as a gift.
He and his band met with their producer, Tanya, about their own music, but he also shared Rainy’s music. Just has he thought, it was a hit with her. It was edgy and different. If everything worked out, Kris might save Rainy from a life of drudgery in corporate hell, or at least put it off for a while.
She was such a breath of fresh air and so incredibly talented. He couldn’t imagine her spending life inside the walls of Grand Canyon. That place would choke the sunshine straight out of her. He understood her need for the money. The need to be independent. It was one of the perks he enjoyed given his success, but despite his wealth, Kris never strayed from his simple values. Though he had a mansion on the Malibu shores, he preferred the classic American, seasoned, old-school neighborhood of his youth.
He texted Rainy as Saturday approached. He had an idea of what he wanted to make her for dinner. He had some elk a popular podcast host gave him. He’d been saving it for the holidays, but this felt more special than that.
Hey, you’re not vegetarian, are you?
She replied instantly.
I’m not. Vegetarianism is a misdemeanor in Baltimore.
He fist pumped the air and he let out a whoop.
I have a treat for you if we still have a date on Saturday.
He watched the scrolling dots until her message popped up.
Oh, yeah. We’re having
dinner at your house, right?
Kris chuckled at her ‘playing it cool’ response.
Yes. Chez Brock.
Looking forward to it.
From that point forward, Kris could think of nothing else but his date with Rainy. He flew back on Friday night. It was late when he walked into the kitchen and set the elk out to thaw. It had been frozen in a red wine marinade and would be perfect for the grill the next day.
When he climbed into bed that night, he toned down his excitement by reminding himself that he’d see her tomorrow.
Saturday morning, he hoped to get a glimpse of her but he noted her car wasn’t there. His heart sank. There could be a million different reasons for her not being home but all he could think about was the possibility of her being out with someone else. A thread of jealousy swept through him. He couldn’t understand the feeling since he’d barely met the girl. Somehow in that brief meeting she’d wormed her way inside of him. If he wasn’t careful, she’d make a home in his heart.
Rather than stress out, he texted her to find out where she was off to. Maybe she was at the café getting a Bloody Maven. If that were the case, he’d be happy to join her.
At work. Stupid emergency.
He hated that her weekends were being eaten up by the job as well.
I’ll see you tonight.
Their scheduled time to meet approached. He paced the living room waiting for her car to pull into the driveway but it didn’t. Moments later, a new text came in.
Still at work. Sorry.
His stomach twisted in knots. Not from hunger but from disappointment.
No worries. I’ll wait.
And wait he did. Just an hour outside of midnight, the headlights of her car bathed his house. He walked out front to greet her.
When she got out of her car, she looked positively wiped out. She glanced at him with tears in her eyes.
“Hey.” He rushed to her.
“I’m so sorry about dinner.” She ran her hand through her long hair. Dressed in slacks and a silky blouse, she was a far cry from the Rainy McAllister that picked up a guitar and sang her way into his heart.
