One Hit Wonder

by Denyse Cohen

  “I was looking for you.” John was sitting on the stairs that led up to the second floor of the hotel, when she got back at eleven.

  “I was photographing some places around town.” She wasn’t sure what her professional inclinations were yet, but nature wasn’t her forte. Not because she didn’t like it or appreciate its beauty, but because anything short of Edward Weston was not even worth pursuing. Perfectionism and indecisiveness had proven to be a bad combo. She was drawn to people, everything about the human presence intrigued her. Even when determined to photograph the historic centers of the little towns they drove through, she’d find herself taking pictures of graffiti on building walls, interesting bystanders, or pie displays inside run-down diners.

  “Cool. Anything good?”

  “Oh, the usual. I’m still looking for…inspiration.” She felt embarrassed about the truth. She walked around with her D90 furtively pressing the shutter at the things she saw, but she ached for meaning — for her images, for her life.

  “It will come to you.” John nodded as if he understood the subtext. “Listen, I found out about this little museum they have here. It’s called the Westervelt, and it’s supposedly huge on American Art. Do you want to go check it out?”

  She was caught off guard. It was the first time he’d asked her to do anything. “Yeah, sure.”

  “It opens at noon. We can take a cab.”

  “Okay.”

  They rode in silence to the Westervelt. The drive was scenic and calm, but her mind was racing. Unable to decode her thoughts into a coherent explanation, she overheated like an overloaded CPU.

  The museum was a beautiful stone mansion that sat on a hill surrounded by trees. Inside, the surroundings were as warm and rich as a log cabin, with high ceilings and walnut paneled walls. Works of art were spread all over rooms which resembled more a large house than a museum.

  “Look, Durand’s Progress.” John pointed to a large landscape painting with a baroque gold frame hanging on a corner.

  “Wow.” Audrey approached the painting. It was breathtaking, with its vast lavender sky, bathed in golden rays of sun that seemed to emanate out of the canvas. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve taken some art classes.”

  “Did you?” Her voice was soft, wavering between incredulity and joy.

  “I thought they went well with my music major.” He glanced at her, then returned his gaze to the painting. “Durant said, ‘Let the artist scrupulously accept whatever nature presents him until he shall, in a degree, have become intimate with her infinity.’ I tend to think of nature as life.” He smiled at her and walked to the next painting.

  “How did you start with music?”

  “My mother. She died when I was younger.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, It was a long time ago. She loved music. She played several instruments. She gave me my acoustic guitar.”

  “The one — ” Audrey lifted a finger over her shoulder and gestured toward the direction they’d come from.

  “Yes. I always have it with me.”

  “Aw,” she murmured. It was the saddest, sweetest thing she’d ever heard. Staring at him surveying the art, she bit her lower lip and braced herself to fight the urge to step closer and hug him.

  • • •

  “Audrey? Earth to Audrey … .” Matt’s voice sounded distant, even though he was sitting next to her at the pub. “Is everything okay?” He asked when she looked at him.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I don’t know. You look worried.”

  “I’m okay.” She grasped the back of her hair with both hands and twisted it in a makeshift pony tail, letting its long strands fall over her right shoulder.

  This cannot be happening to me. She squeezed her beer bottle and pretended not to watch John at the bar talking to the pub owner.

  When Audrey and John had arrived back from the museum in the afternoon, Matt, Tyler, and Kevin were throwing a football in the hotel parking lot. They all played for a while, but Audrey wanted to be alone. Her head had been spinning ever since the incident in Columbia. She was glad John had finally stopped avoiding her, but now she felt her insides melt when he was near. It was nauseating.

  “Where’s Rob?” John said.

  “He took the bus to the mechanic,” Matt said.

  It was ironic how they always referred to the decrepit Winnebago as the bus, for tour bus.

  “Where have you two been?” Kevin threw the ball to Audrey.

  “At a museum.” She caught it without difficulty.

  “Nice catch,” Tyler said.

  “My father wanted a son.” She threw the ball at Tyler in a perfect spiral.

  When they knocked on her room door and invited her to go hang out at the pub where they were going to perform the next day, she almost said no, but figured staying alone ruminating on her feelings was worse. She needed distraction.

  “From Gary.” A waiter placed Jägermeister shots on the table. They looked over at the bar and Gary, the pub owner, waved at them. They’d met him the night before, the first time they went to the pub to introduce themselves and check out the place. After the high-tech company Gary had worked for went under, he bought the bar and moved from Silicon Valley to run it.

  “I think he’s interested,” Tyler smirked.

  Audrey lifted her glass, nodded at Gary, and dropped her head, feeling the burning in her throat and the heat crawling up her chest. It was exactly what she needed to forget what was happening to her. Happened to her. Stupid Penny Lane. She gulped the rest of her beer. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  “Wanna dance?” She asked Matt.

  “Dance?” He stiffened.

  “I’ll go with you.” Kevin quickly offered. Audrey glanced at Kevin, then back at Matt.

  “Go. I’ll take the next one,” Matt smiled shyly.

  Audrey shrugged. “Come on, Kevin.” They walked toward the empty dance floor — a small area in front of the tiny stage.

  The band performing had an upbeat sound that reminded her of Maroon 5. The lead singer let out a little cheer when he saw them approaching, moving with the beat of the drums. The music transformed her body into a malleable material that bended and flailed, as sinuously as a dangerous road. She raised her arms and Kevin placed his hands on her waist. For a moment, she had the urge to look at the bar to see if John was watching, but he wasn’t there. Gary, though, was behind the bar and couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked at the table where she’d come from, John was sitting with the guys. His name vibrated in her head along with the stirring music. John, John, John. She threw herself into it and danced until her hair felt heavy and damp, clinging to her back and neck. When the music stopped, Kevin gave her a celebratory hug and led her toward the table.

  “I’m going to get something to drink.” She veered toward the bar.

  The reality was, she didn’t want to be in John’s vicinity just yet. Her last relationship had ended very badly and, in the two years she’d spent with that boyfriend, she had not once felt the throbbing of wild horses crushing her chest like she did when John was around. Strangely enough, she also experienced an incredible serenity, as if she was riding up a mountain in a ski-lift, watching the smooth white carpet below her while cool snowflakes flickered and melted on her face.

  “What can I get you, gorgeous?” Gary placed a napkin in front of her.

  “Jack and water.” Audrey sat on a vacant stool at the edge of the bar and he turned to mix it. He placed the drink in front of her, and she pulled a twenty from her pocket.

  “No, on the house.” Gary dismissed the money with a wave of his hand.

  “Thanks.” Audrey knew there was no point on insisting. Every other round the band consumed was on the house. Gary wouldn’t allow her to pay, considering his obvious interest. She felt a pang of devilish shame about the situation, because his tanned Californian looks didn’t do anything for her. Even if the thoughts of John weren’t constantly pulsing in h
er head, like the first signs of a massive migraine, Gary’s ‘what’s-up-dude’ attitude appeared to be that of someone trying very hard to live in a decade that had long bid farewell.

  “You looked pretty good on the dance floor,” Gary said.

  “Oh.” Audrey wasn’t sure how to respond to being complimented on something as frivolous as dancing. She hadn’t somersaulted backwards, for goodness sake. “Thanks.” While she couldn’t think of a single reason to stay there and endure Gary’s foundering attempts to charm her, sitting by John was not a better prospect. She wanted to. Oh, hell. She wanted it to be near him so bad, she’d started to daydream about it, but being unemployed, living with her parents, and absolutely clueless as to what to do with her life kept any hopes of a relationship at bay.

  “Come sit with us.” Matt leaned on the bar. “Can I have four Budweisers, please?” He asked a young bartender. Gary was at the opposite side of the bar talking to other patrons.

  “Matt, have you ever been afraid?” Audrey said, without looking at him.

  “What have you been drinking?” Matt reached for her glass, and sniffed the liquid inside it.

  “When you started the band. How did you know you were going to get along?”

  “Well, I didn’t start the band. John did. I just joined in. I didn’t know if we were going to get along and we didn’t — all the time, he kept us together.”

  “Hmm,” Audrey took a sip of her whiskey and pondered. “Weren’t you worried John wasn’t going to reciprocate your…efforts?” Audrey bit her lower lip, wishing she could stuff those words back into her mouth, because Matt’s expression was torn between amusement and incredulity.

  There was a moment of silence, long enough for Audrey to knock back her drink and wish to burst in flames.

  Matt’s expression turned contemplative, then he said, “I suppose we never know what other people will do, that’s why we can’t worry about it. What we can do is not let fear keep us from living the best life we can.” He paid for the beer the bartender had placed in front of him, then intertwined his long fingers on the bottles, two in each hand. “I can tell you one thing for sure, John is the best person to share your efforts with, because he always does what’s in his power not to let anyone down.”

  Chapter 9

  “Want to go on a hike?” Matt asked John, as he and Audrey stepped on the curb and made their way to the hill behind their hotel the next day. They ran almost daily, before they got in the bus or after getting out. No matter when, Matt was the one who insisted on running, he had explained he was built like Jon Favreau, always on the line between fit and fat. Audrey didn’t mind. She pushed herself to exhaustion, so she could fall into bed and be unconscious before a veil of troubled thoughts covered her like a wet blanket.

  “Nah.” John regarded them with mild attention, sitting under a tree on the curb beside the bus with his guitar cradled on his lap.

  “Are you working on a new song?” Audrey thought she’d seen a flicker in John’s eyes when he looked at her and felt her cheeks heat up. Oh, hell. She wanted to pinch those little traitors.

  “You can say that.”

  As they started their hike, Matt told her the band had hundreds of songs composed by John. However, not all having earned his approval, he continued to work on them endlessly.

  Matt and Audrey hiked hard; embarrassment can be a huge motivator, she discovered. Usually, she and Matt talked quite a bit, but she dreaded he was going to ask her about their conversation at the bar the night before, so she kept a steady pace. She didn’t have any excuse to give him besides being drunk, which Matt wouldn’t accept easily. He’d seen her drink much more without losing her composure. She could handle her alcohol and he knew it.

  “Am I being punished for something?” He asked, bending over with his hands on his knees.

  Turning back to look at him, she couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s the matter Charlie Brown? Don’t think you can make it?”

  “If I had known today was boot-camp day, I would still be in bed.”

  “Oh, come on. No pain, no gain, remember?”

  Matt’s flushed face and ragged breathing told her words of encouragement wouldn’t work. Obviously, he didn’t have any troubling thoughts to distract him from the exertion.

  “Let’s head back.” She marched down the trail and patted his back as he gave her a grateful smile.

  Nearing John again, still sitting in the same position as they had left him, she bit her lips and took in the view. The very sight of him wreaked a havoc of emotions inside her; she could barely recognize herself.

  “How is it coming?” Matt asked John. “Do you need an audience?” He teased, but John responded with a contemptuous look.

  John and Matt were the two people she didn’t need to be around. The last thing she wanted was John to find out about her feelings through a petty attempt to undermine a joke or smart-ass remark Matt could make.

  “Okay, then. I’m off to town, I need some things.” Audrey walked away, feeling Matt’s and John’s eyes on her back.

  When she came back later in the afternoon, the guys were watching TV in the hotel room that was transformed in the band’s headquarters. So far, only Kevin, Matt, and Tyler had slept in it, but they’d all used the shower. How they got the clerk to agree to such arrangement was beyond her grasp, but she had gotten her own room. It was all she needed to know.

  There was some reality show marathon on TV and the boys laughed and criticized at the same time.

  “Are you going out for dinner tonight?” Audrey asked, looking at the TV and flinching at the image of a girl wearing hot pink tongues sticking out from a pair of low-rise jeans.

  “Forget it,” Kevin said.

  “No way, we’ve ordered pizza,” Matt said.

  “Snooki is about to get in the hot tub.” Tyler said, and Rob nodded.

  She crossed the room toward the bottle of tequila over a corner table and poured herself a shot. John sat on one of the chairs with his heels propped on the table.

  “Do you want to have dinner? I’ve got to have a real meal.” Audrey circled her finger around the rim of the glass.

  “Sure.” If he was surprised by her invitation, he didn’t show it.

  “In one hour, then.” She swigged the tequila, wincing at the burn.

  As she walked in front of the TV, Kevin grabbed her by the waist. “Let’s watch Jersey Shore together. We need a female’s point of view.”

  She freed herself and squeezed his nose, saying, “over my dead body,” and pushed him onto the bed.

  In her room, she laid the dress perfectly flat on the bed, pale pink with tiny black flowers and vines that from the distance looked like spider webs. It had been weeks since she had worn a dress. Jeans and casual tops had been her uniform — the appropriate wardrobe when you hang around a bunch of guys you’re not trying to impress. That night was different because she wanted to impress a guy. Thinking about him had become a torture, with heat scorching her skin every time he walked by. She had given it a lot of thought and had come up with three likely outcomes for the night; one — he would refuse her, she would be utterly embarrassed, and would have to get over him and move on; two — they would sleep together but he wouldn’t want anything beyond that, so she would have to get over him and move on; and three — he would reciprocate her feelings and they would make incandescent love all night. She knew in all of those scenarios, there was still a potential hiccup — the band. Leaving them mid-tour because of an affair gone sour was an outcome she didn’t want to consider.

  In the shower, she tried to remember if she had ever been this nervous about going out with a man. Since the night John had fallen asleep in her room in Augusta she couldn’t think about anything else. She closed her eyes and remembered his arms around her, carrying her to the bus when she cut her foot. She could feel electricity between them, but he’d never made a move.

  Perhaps the amounts of testosterone and tequila inside the tour bus clouded
her perception — Kevin, Matt, and Tyler acted like the Three Stooges. Rob was reserved and focused on doing his job. And John? John was untroubled, serious, and kind. There seemed to be a universe inside him where he got everything he needed — the wisdom and contentment people spent their entire lives searching for.

  She fought off a sudden wave of dizziness, but it was too late to bail. So, the least she could do was to bring out her guns, which meant buttering up with lotion, lacy panties — the uncomfortable kind — and smokey eyes. She slipped on the dress and put on her boots, and styled her long brown hair to accentuate its natural curls, put a dab of lip balm on her lips and a drop of perfume behind her earlobes. She blushed at her reflection in the mirror.

  • • •

  Exactly one hour had passed when she pushed the door open and walked into the room. All gazes fell on her, but she played it down.

  “So?” She twirled around.

  Silence.

  “Wow!” Tyler finally said.

  John had changed his shirt and by the smell of soap and damp hair, she assumed he had managed to take a shower. The tequila bottle was almost empty, and the pizza had been reduced to crumbs inside its open box. She hoped he hadn’t eaten any of it; despite everything else, she was hungry.

  “Let’s go,” she urged him.

  They had to walk less than ten minutes to get to the restaurant. They were staying at a motel off the highway and, since driving the tour bus to anywhere was too much of a hassle, the best they could do under the circumstances was a Macaroni Grill across the street.

  “This should be fun,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Having a grown-up meal, just the two of us.”

  “Are you serious? Who is the grown up here?”

  Stop over-thinking.

  After all, it was John. They’d spent time together, they knew each other. Yet she felt a cloud of ambiguity hovering over them and John must had felt it as well, because he decided to blow it over before it became a storm.

  He held her arm to make her stop before they walked up the steps to the restaurant, and said, “Audrey, just so we’re clear … ”