by Gina Drayer
He pulled the garment bag off the suitcase and snatched the handle from her. “Jesus, did you bring your rock collection with you?” Melinda’s face burned hotter and Daryl gave a little laugh. “Sorry, my mouth has a habit of not consulting my brain.”
Face still hot she managed a wink. “My arm does the same thing.”
Daryl gave his big laugh again. The sound hit Melinda straight in the nostalgia. For a moment she was sixteen and watching Reason’s Fault sweep award show after award. Daryl laughed like that every time it was his turn to give a thank you speech. They walked the hall in comfortable silence until they reached her new room.
“This is my stop.” She got her key card out of her pocket.
“Perfect.” Daryl dropped her enormous suitcase. “My room is next door.”
“Why is that perfect?” Her heart pounded and she wanted to melt into the floor.
Stop this, you aren’t sixteen anymore.
“Because I wanted to eat dinner with you, and I wasn’t about to go ask the concierge for your room number. Crap like that gets on the internet.”
Melinda’s face heated up once more.
Oh my god. I have blushed entirely too much in the last five minutes.
Daryl’s smile faltered a little. “It seems like you’re having a rough day.”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Great. Meet you in say, two hours, around 9:30?”
Melinda’s head rocked back and forth like it was about to fall off. “Two hours sounds great.”
Her new room was practically identical to the last one; Beautiful snow covered mountain vista, two comfortable chairs, a massive bed, large dresser, and a brick fireplace.
The bathroom was large and warm and Melinda treated herself to a long hot shower. She thanked God she had gotten waxed before leaving for Liberty Springs and immediately chided herself for the thought.
What do you think is about to happen?
She spent a ridiculous amount of time on her straightening her short dark hair, and picking out clothes. She hadn’t brought anything really date worthy. In the end she went with skinny jeans, black dress boots, and white camisole under a long black cardigan that tied shut.
She hadn’t thought to bring jewelry with her, so all she had were her small silver hoops and the large Iolite on a fine silver chain she never left at home. The stone flashed between blue and purple above her breasts as she took a deep breath. She liked the stone because the blue matched her eyes.
She was still applying her mascara when the knock sounded. Melinda took a deep breath before she opened it to Daryl Chambers.
The guitarist hadn’t shaved and the golden stubble glinted in the hallway. He was also wearing jeans and a black sweater. His eyes traveled her body three times before he spoke. “Alright, one of us has to change.”
Panic blossomed. “Uh..”
His big laugh brought butterflies to her stomach. “You look great. I told you, my mouth and brain don’t always sync up.”
Melinda smiled. “You look great too.”
Daryl flashed his crooked smile. “I’ll feel better when all this dye washes out.” He blew at a chunk of bluish green hair on his forehead that covered the bump she’d given him.
“I like it.” She wanted to tuck the unruly lock behind his ear, but kept her hands at her side.
He shrugged. “I’m glad someone does. So let’s get some eats, huh?”
The dining room was full, which didn’t surprise Melinda. The storm winds battered the Lodge and likely everything in the area was shut down. It was the kind of winter night made for staying up late and drinking.
Or going to bed early.
She tried not to let the thought linger as they ordered their meal. Once their drinks had arrived, Daryl leaned back in his chair and flashed that crooked smile. “So, I’m Daryl Chambers, by the way.”
Melinda paused. “I know.”
His big laugh rang out around the room. “Dammit, woman, what’s your name?”
Melinda wondered if she could will the floor to open and swallow her. “Melinda Smith. Have I really not introduced myself?”
He shrugged. “Things have been a little hectic.” He took a drink of his beer. “You want to talk about why I have this bump on my forehead?”
Melinda sighed and bit her lower lip. “Not really, but I do kind of owe you so…” She shrugged. “I have once again been left to my own devices.”
Across the table one golden eyebrow arched. “Seriously, that’s all I get for my quite literal pain?”
She found herself chuckling despite the tightness in her chest. “You’re smack in the middle of my childhood trauma.”
“Tell me about it.” His bright eyes were sincere and Melinda found herself talking without meaning to.
“My father is a senator, and my entire life has revolved around furthering his career. I had to have straight A’s. I had to be perfectly behaved at all times, especially in public. I was never, ever to espouse any political beliefs in college, due to the whole cell phone recording thing.” She gave a bitter laugh. “And dating… my god, my father’s publicist screened my boyfriends to make sure they were respectable enough.”
Daryl nodded, but didn’t say anything. Melinda found herself talking to fill up the silence. “And it’s not like being this perfect child got me anything. I was raised by a series of nannies and tutors, really nice people, but…” she shrugged. “I was lucky to have one meal a month with my parents, and it was usually a state function.”
She took a long drink of her rum and coke before she continued. “The only time I could guarantee their attention was to act out. Refuse to do my homework or scream at the staff, anything that might get out to the press. Then they came around and yelled at me.” She swallowed. “The day I got my masters… there was a tornado in my dad’s district. So guess who was all alone in her cap and gown while my parents did the photo ops and talk shows?” She met Daryl’s sympathetic eyes, and the remembered pain came back full force. “I told them I was done. My father didn’t go home to help those people. He went for the votes. He didn’t pick up debris or pass out food. He walked around, looked at destroyed houses, shook hands, and then back to his townhouse in Maryland.”
“You said all that?” He sounded impressed.
“All that and more.” She fought down the tears. “I didn’t speak to either of them for four years. I worked hard at my law firm, made my own way, started having a life that didn’t revolve around my father’s career. About a year ago, my mom called. She said she’s missed me and the silence had gone on long enough. She swore my dad had changed and that to prove it, we’d plan a family vacation. A real one, with no press, no photographer, even dad’s publicist wouldn’t come with us.” She took a deep breath. “Mom sent me the email, a reservation for my favorite lodge, one year to the day. And in the meantime, we’d get to know each other again.”
Daryl shook his head. “It didn’t take?”
“No.” Melinda took a long drink. “No, it didn’t. They tried, for about four months. They flew me home to Maryland every other weekend. And it was just the three of us. To their credit, those were good times.” Melinda unclenched her fists before she continued. “Then it became, ‘Linny, we have a fund raiser that weekend, please come with us.” The outright cancellations started soon after and they came with gifts, big gifts, a new BMW, a year’s rent on my condo, a new wardrobe. I wasn’t sure if I should take the loot and run or be insulted that they thought they could buy my love.”
Daryl chuckled. “What did your therapist say?”
“Who says I have a therapist?”
Daryl flashed a grin. “A young lawyer who is the daughter of a senator and has parental issues? You totally have a therapist.”
She shook her head. “No therapist, but my local bartender thinks I should either accept them as they are or give up on them completely.”
Their dinners arrived, halting any further heavy conversation. The steaks were as ten
der as Melinda remembered and Daryl agreed they were delicious. They made casual chit chat about movies, the local, non-existent nightlife, and the inevitably of the power going out in the storm. Melinda found herself forgetting not only to be depressed but that she was sitting across the table from a man who’s magazine picture she kissed.
Once they ordered dessert, he pushed up the sleeves of his sweater, exposing two tattoos she had drooled over two decades ago. On the right was a simple script that read, Reason’s Fault, and left was the strange symbol that had graced the cover of their second album, ‘Facsimilie’.
Daryl waved his right hand in her face. “Hey lady, my eyes are up here.”
“But that ink isn’t.”
Daryl chuckled. “Fair enough.” He pulled his sleeves up further, stretched his arms out, and leaned towards her.
Melinda grasped his wrists and studied both tattoos. The words on his right arm were beautiful in their simplicity, but the left was gorgeous. The curves and straight lines made a design she’d never been able to discern. She traced her fingers over his skin lightly. The tendons and wiry muscles were firm under her fingertips. “What is it?”
“The outline of Danny’s girlfriend laying naked on a skateboard.”
She dropped his arm and studied his face. “Are you trying to be funny again?”
“You wish.” Daryl smirked. “Seriously, the picture was already dark and a little blurry. Tom traced her and colored it black.”
Melinda bit her lower lip in an attempt to hold in a laugh that would be far too loud.
“I used to love reading message board theories about it. Nobody ever came close.” Daryl leaned back and rolled down his sleeves with a wistful smile. “We were so broke back in those days.”
“You miss being broke?”
Daryl shrugged. “I miss making music that we wanted to hear, because we loved the sound of it.”
Melinda grinned, placed her elbows on the table, and rested her chin in her hand. “Tell me about it.”
Daryl lips twisted just slightly upwards, but the smile wasn’t at all happy. “You ever hear the phrase, ‘never meet your heroes?’”
“I already met you and you brought it up.” She sipped at her rum and coke.
Daryl shook his head. “Fucking lawyers.” He finished off his beer and signaled to the waitress to bring him another. “The best days of my life, so far, were the days we spent in Tom’s garage screwing around.”
Melinda grinned. “They beat out going double platinum?”
“By far.” Daryl stared at his hands. “When I turned fifteen I had the uncomfortable realization that I hated every single song I heard. So I learned to play guitar, determined to write good music. One night, I’m practicing on the porch and I hear someone banging away on a drum kit, so I wandered over to see who it was.”
She knew this story. She’d read it a thousand times. Still there was something mesmerizing about watching Daryl tell it. His bright green eyes burned with intensity as he spoke.
“Tommy and I clicked right away. We both wanted something else than we were hearing anywhere. We found Dan in the music room at school and he brought Scooter and Jer… and together… we sucked.” Daryl laughed and Melinda did too. “Oh god, we were terrible. But we kept at it, every day. And then one day… it was good. It was better than good, and we knew it.” Daryl’s green eyes glazed over. “It was all fun, just utter fun. And the money… dear god, I can’t tell you how much money was thrown at us and how much we wasted.” The waitress stopped his story with a beer. Daryl drank about half of it with one huge gulp.
“Eventually the fun stopped… for me.” Daryl studied his hands on the half empty glass. “We were all about the sex and drugs, but it felt like we had forgotten the rock and roll. ‘Liberation’ and ‘Facsimile’ were and are amazing albums.” He scowled and met her eyes. “Recording ‘Jet Stream’ and ‘Dedication’ was hell and I can’t stand to listen to either album. The guys… damn them, I love them, I do, but half the time they were too drunk to play their instruments. Most of those tracks are studio musicians.”
Melinda almost reached out for his hand, but stopped herself. “Is that why you left?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, I thought I could do it without them. You know why I haven’t released my solo album?”
She shook her head.
Daryl clasped his hands together and pressed his thumbs into his forehead. “I haven’t written a single song.”
“It’s been six years.”
A smile broke out on Daryl’s face. “You know when I left the band?”
Melinda laughed and took a long drink for courage. “I know where you went to high school. I know you hate people who talk with food in their mouth. I know your favorite food, color, and style of guitar.”
Daryl laughed. “That really cuts down on the mindless chit chat.”
“Somewhere in my storage space I have a signed poster I won in a radio auction.”
“In your storage space?” He crossed his arms over his chest, and cocked an eyebrow at her.
“Fine. It’s framed and hanging in my office.” She drowned the last of her drink. She wasn’t sure if it was the rum or Daryl’s big laugh that warmed her skin. “If you can’t write without them, why don’t you go back? It’s been six years, maybe they’re different.”
Daryl pulled out his phone and fiddled with it for a moment before he slid it across the table. Melinda smiled a little at the four very hung over men sitting in an airport bar.
“I asked them to meet me out here. Some place quiet, where we could talk. They got trashed and missed their flight.”
The picture wasn’t funny anymore. “Daryl, I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “You can’t change people.”
Melinda sighed. “No, you can’t.”
For the first time all night, silence engulfed their table. Melinda racked her brain thinking of something to say. Nothing came to mind, but another drink sounded good.
The waitress stood at another table serving food, her back to Melinda. “Excuse me, Daryl. I lack rum.” She stood, but hadn’t made it a step when the lights shut out.
People called out in the dark as surprise overtook the room. Melinda felt for the table and found a calloused hand instead.
“Melinda?”
“It’s me, Daryl.”
The hand squeezed hers, and the rough skin of a thumb caressed her knuckles. The gesture was gentle but insistent.
“You ok?” His voice was much nearer than it had been a moment ago.
“Yeah, just startled.”
The lights snapped on, and he stood in front of her all of about an inch away. “You ok, now?”
Her breath caught in her throat. They were about the same height. It surprised her for some reason. He had been such a huge figure in her adolescence, he should be taller now.
They stood frozen, hands locked together for a long moment. Then he flashed that crooked smile and lifted her hand.
“I have to go.” He kissed her knuckle and walked away.
Melinda’s breath caught as she pondered what the hell just happened. The whole day had been strange and only this side of surreal. She shook her head and headed to the bar, along with several other guests. When it was finally her turn, she ordered three shots of vodka and a bottle of wine to be sent to her room. After all, dad said he’d foot the bill. She pounded her vodka and left.
The liquor hit her head outside her room. As heat raced through her body, she contemplated banging on Daryl’s door and demanding to know what he was thinking. The instincts of a lifetime spent being circumspect wouldn’t let her though. Miserable, she headed into her own room.
To her grateful surprise a fire burned merrily in brick fireplace. She picked up the folded note on her bed.
‘Linny, I know how much you hate the cold. Sleep well, Uncle Leonard.’
Tears pricked at her eyes. Someone, at least, thought of her and wanted her around. Melinda avoided her eyes
in the mirror as she took off her jewelry and washed her face. She slipped into her favorite flannel pajamas in time to answer the knock on the door and get her wine.
She pulled the blanket off her bed and snuggled into one of the chairs with a large glass of wine and the book she had brought ‘just in case’. She found herself reading the same three sentences over and over again as she sipped at her wine, but the bed and sleep weren’t an option. If she lay down, she’d start crying.
The next thing she knew, wetness on her chest and stomach woke her. Melinda jumped up and the now empty wine glass fell to the floor. Luckily the carpet was plush and it didn’t break. Melinda didn’t think she could bear to tell Leonard she’d shattered more glass.
Tears pricked at her eyes and she swallowed. She would not cry. She pulled out her suitcase and rifled through the clothes she hadn’t had a chance to put away. Her other pajamas were buried at the bottom so she grabbed a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. It wasn’t until she pulled it over her head that she realized it was her favorite faded ‘Facsimilie’ shirt.
The tears came then. Melinda angrily wiped them away. Daryl didn’t owe her a damn thing. She had no right to be upset. She took a deep breath and threw a log on the coals. She crawled into her giant bed, pulled up the covers, and gave into the tears.
She had nearly fallen asleep again, when someone pounded on her door. Adrenaline replaced depression and she climbed out of bed. She grabbed a poker and opened her door a crack. Daryl pushed the door open and wrapped his arms around her. The poker fell to the floor as he kicked the door shut.
His mouth met hers and she panicked. She smacked at his shoulders. He pulled away, ,eyes wide with surprise.
“What the hell,” she panted.
He ran a hand through his greenish hair and gave a sheepish laughed. “I’m sorry. I got caught up.”
“Caught up in what?” The bitterness in her own voice surprised her.
He blinked and all the elation left his face. “You’re mad.”
“You just up and left me.”
“Yeah, I did.” The words were drawn out, and he nodded as he spoke. Then he gave her that crooked smile. “I had an idea for a song, and I had to get it down before I lost it.”
