by Hazel Jacobs
“You’ll find something,” Logan says. There’s an edge to his voice that makes Mikayla feel as though she’s being slapped in the face.
He turns to leave. He actually makes it a few steps before he suddenly turns back to her, pivoting on the spot. He opens his mouth to speak, and he hesitates. Mikayla realizes that she’s holding her breath.
The moment passes. Logan closes his mouth and drops his gaze to the sand. Then he leaves, and Mikayla is left standing there, alone, on the edge of the water.
Before she can start crying again, she marches over to the stage and joins Tommy’s conversation with the lighting technician. They’re talking about childhood pets. A nice, safe topic.
By the time night falls and the band is ready to perform, a crowd has gathered on the beach. There are hundreds of people—some who had bought tickets to see the show months ago, and others who had been walking the beach and noticed the signs. There was plenty of room, though Bass Note had left instructions to cap it at a thousand spectators. The setting sun’s last dregs can still be seen over the horizon, painting the sky orange and purple.
Mikayla watches from backstage, as usual, while the band performs their opening set. The salty air is now mixed in with the scent of beer and sweaty people as the crowd throws itself into the dances, getting lost in Logan’s voice and Tommy’s lyrics. Logan pauses in between each song and together the band throws around some banter, keeping it light and leaving the crowd in stitches. They’re perfect together. Mikayla doesn’t think that the band would work with anyone but these four men.
They’ll survive when I’m gone, she thinks, though it doesn’t make her feel any better. Maybe it’s the fact that she isn’t as crucial to them as they have become to her. She wonders if she might be able to persuade Tommy to write to her occasionally when he and the rest of the band moves on.
At the end of the first set, they move into the second. Logan seems preoccupied, even though he delivers his lyrics and the jokes as usual. If Mikayla weren’t so attuned to him, she never would have noticed.
Intermission comes before she realizes. Their last show is halfway over.
A tent has been set up for the band behind the stage. As usual, there’s a crowd of women waiting for them, but even Slate just gives them a smile before heading into the makeshift green room. Today is their last show so the band will be spending it together.
Mikayla hesitates outside of the tent.
“Mik?” Dash asks. “You coming?”
She nods. Inside, instead of the usual stained couches and fridge, there’s a massive cooler and some fold-out chairs. It seems wrong somehow that Mikayla doesn’t need to check her seat for suspicious liquid before sitting down.
None of them say anything—they just take a moment to breathe.
Slate hands her a beer. She accepts but she doesn’t drink it. This day is sad enough without introducing depressants. He and Dash are both leaning back on their chairs, their satisfaction with the situation coming off of them in waves. They’re happy, and why wouldn’t they be? They’ve almost finished their first international tour. The first of many if the ticket sales are anything to go by. Beside Slate, Tommy has his feet on the cooler and a serene look on his face.
Only Logan doesn’t seem at ease. Mikayla watches as he tugs at the edge of his shirt, kicks at the sand beneath his boots, and raises his thumb to chew at the nail. Instead of looking at Mikayla like he’s got a secret, he keeps glancing at Tommy. He gives the other men some considering looks.
After about five minutes of silence and fidgeting, Logan stands up.
“Tommy, I need you for a sec,” he says.
Tommy cocks his head like a cocker spaniel being offered something which may or may not be food. “Sure thing, man,” he replies and follows Logan out of the tent.
“Three-way,” Dash says.
Slate, who’s leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, doesn’t hesitate, “Not on a beach. Bad things happen when you fuck on a beach.”
“Bad things?”
“Sand. Chafing. Sharks.”
Dash winces.
Mikayla heads outside after a few minutes to double check that everything on stage is ready for the next set. The lights from the stage illuminate a dome immediately surrounding the performance. The hopeful groupies have returned to the crowd, but Mikayla expects them to return at the end of the show just in case. The only people remaining behind the stage are the techs and the roadies, sitting on heavy plastic equipment trunks with beers and joints in their hands.
Thanks to the stage lights, Mikayla can make out the figures of Tommy and Logan at the edge of the water. They’re facing each other with their hands in their pockets. She can’t tell if they’re talking or not.
By the time she has finished supervising final checks, intermission is over, and the band is ready to go back on stage. From her position waiting in the wings, Mikayla searches Logan’s face for some sign of what he and Tommy talked about. Tommy looks grim and more melancholy than usual as he takes up his bass.
“Welcome back,” Logan says into the mic.
The crowd screams their encouragement.
“Thanks for sticking around. Nice to see my singing hasn’t made anyone want to throw themselves into the ocean yet.” The crowd laughs. “I’m gonna do something a little different now. It’s a new song, one I wrote.”
Mikayla blinks in shock even as the crowd goes wild. Logan wrote a song? Is that what he was talking to Tommy about?
Dash and Slate both look surprised. Whatever’s going on, they’re clearly in the dark about it. Tommy pulls a battered acoustic guitar out from behind one of the speakers and hands it to Logan with a nod.
A moment passes between them. Then Tommy turns and whispers something to Slate, who nods and passes the message to Dash.
“I wrote this song for a woman,” Logan says. Mikayla feels her heart jump into her throat.
He couldn’t mean…
“She’s pretty important to me,” he goes on, speaking to the crowd like he’s telling them a secret. Then his eyes turn, and they catch Mikayla in the wings of the stage. He holds her gaze. “If I weren’t so bad at talking my feelings out, I would have explained that to her a long time ago.”
The crowd is cheering. There’s an awed tone to it. Dash is looking between Logan and Mikayla with wide eyes, Slate looks shocked as well. Even if he knew about Logan’s feelings, he obviously wasn’t expecting this. Tommy just smiles sadly at Mikayla.
Slate taps his drumsticks three times, counting them in, and then the rest of the band begins to play. They have the same remarkable ease they always have with new songs. Tommy must have told Dash and Slate what to play. So he’s in favor of this, at least. Then why does he look sad?
The music has an easy, relaxed beat with the bass line thrumming in a regular back and forth. It’s the sort of song that she could see herself listening to as she drives down a long, coastal road, possibly with the top down on a convertible and her hair blowing in the breeze. With the waves washing in the distance, and the smell of salt in the air, all Mikayla would have to do would be to close her eyes and she would be there, in that car. But she can’t take her eyes off of Logan Todd.
Mikayla feels her heart start to race as Logan begins strumming the acoustic, the metallic twang of the strings echoing through the microphone in front of him.
And then he sings…
We can’t trust anyone on earth,
What’s special to me is we know each other’s worth,
Everybody else treated us like dirt.
Destined to be together since our birth.
Mikayla realizes that she’s clutching her hand to her chest. Logan has his head tilted so that he can sing through the mic and still observe her, his soft brown eyes holding onto hers and pinning her down, forcing her to stay and hear the song out. As if she would ever want to be anywhere else.
Life full of pain like we were cursed,
You turn me on with every
single word,
I can’t hold this back—be my girl?
I got feelings for you and a spot that’s reserved.
She is smiling now. Logan’s grinning through his song.
I just want to treat you the way you always deserved.
Just give me your body and I’ll do all the work.
I gave you my trust because that’s something you earned.
A blush creeps over her neck because she’s suddenly aware that everyone is following Logan’s gaze—the crowd, the roadies, the security detail, everyone is looking toward the wing of the stage, trying to catch a glimpse of the woman that caught the eye of Black Lilith’s singer. She lingers behind the curtain, unsure of herself.
Your slim and curvy body moving oh so freely—
Baby don’t tease me, you know that I'm needy.
Your long black hair makes me want to get freaky,
I want you to myself, does that make me greedy?
His words make her blush more deeply. A part of her is honored and surprised that he has written a song for her, and a part of her wishes he’d kept the sex stuff out. But she’s still smiling because the longer he sings, the longer he stares at her like she’s the only thing worth paying attention to on that beach, and the more she feels as though a weight is being lifted off of her chest.
Dash is grinning wildly as he strums along with his brother, shooting Mikayla a smirk when Logan sings about her body. Little shit, she thinks fondly, knowing that she’ll never live this down. Slate’s giving her a look like he can read her mind and completely agrees. Tommy has his eyes closed, which is a sure sign that he’s losing himself in the music. It must be strange for him to play a song which isn’t his. But he’s playing along happily.
You mean everything so sorry if I'm clingy,
When I'm with you, it's like life is so easy.
I've been holding back from telling you so long,
We confide in each other that's why our bond is so strong.
I know I am not wrong
And I want to say thanks for making me belong.
Mikayla waits as the song plays out. The crowd is clapping along with the beat, swaying in time with Slate’s playing. When it’s over the crowd applauds, whistling and howling for an encore.
Logan hands the acoustic off to Tommy. His eyes are still on Mikayla, focusing on her with an intensity that reminds her so much of their first, forbidden night together that she starts to feel her blush traveling down to settle between her legs. One look and she’s done for. She never even stood a chance. He walks across the stage. Mikayla meets him in the middle. The crowd screams when they see her come out, but it’s like they’re screaming through a wall of cotton padding because all she cares about is getting to Logan.
They stand for a moment. Even though Logan has his back straight and his arms loose at his sides, there’s something vulnerable in the look he gives her. As though, even now, when she’s standing in front of him in the middle of the stage, he’s still not sure how this will play out.
She throws her arms around his neck and catches the sudden, relieved grin which blossoms on his face before she kisses him for all she’s worth.
Logan told Tommy the truth. That was what the bass player had been upset about during their final performance in Miami.
“You were right,” Logan tells Mikayla, hours later when they are curled up in hotel sheets and each other, and he’s running his fingers down the soft skin of her back. “I shouldn’t have lied to him.”
“How did he take it?”
“Badly,” Logan says. He sighs. “But I expected that. I had the proof on my phone in case he didn’t believe me.”
Mikayla rolls over so that she can look him in the eye. The fact that her action exposes her breasts for his hungry gaze has absolutely nothing to do with anything. “I’m glad you told him.”
“I’ll tell Slate and Dash too,” Logan says. He rubs the teeth marks on Mikayla’s breast, and a sly grin spreads across his lips. “As soon as my legs start working again.”
They’d left the band at the beach as soon as Logan could get away. He stayed to finish the show, of course, but the rest of Black Lilith just nodded knowingly when Logan wrapped up the night and disappeared with Mikayla before the band even had a chance to get back to the green room. She hopes that Tommy isn’t angry with her for keeping this from him, but knowing Tommy, he’s probably angrier at himself for not being able to spot it. For not being able to spot everything.
“I loved your song,” she tells Logan while he’s still busy caressing the teeth marks he left on her. The ones he’d left weeks ago have faded, these new ones will be replaced before they even have a chance.
“Mmm,” Logan hums and dips his head to kiss the red spot on her neck. Right under her ear for all to see. “I’m glad.”
“I didn’t think you like writing songs?”
“I had a lot of inspiration,” he replies.
“Oh yeah,” she says. His breath tickles her neck. “What was it? Your long black hair makes me want to get freaky? I have brown hair, fool.”
“It’s the sentiment,” Logan replies, twisting a strand over his fingers. He sings breathily in her ear, “Baby don’t tease me… you know that I'm needy…”
There’s no teasing that night. It’s all hot and hard at first as the pair of them make up for lost time, but around two in the morning they fall into the warm, slow passion of real lovemaking. The gentle give and take of a pair of people who have all the time in the world to explore each other. No more sneaking around, no more hiding. No more pretending that this is something fleeting or purely physical.
Mikayla waits for him to finish singing the words he wrote for her before kissing him again. Slowly. Tenderly. With all the love she hadn’t put into words yet. Technically, he hadn’t said the words either, but it didn’t matter. Neither of them was very good with words.
For now, their bodies speak for them.
Weeks later, Mikayla sits across the table from Tommy, Dash, and Slate, with Logan’s arm draped around her shoulder. She’s waiting until after they eat before she tells them why she’s asked them here. She doesn’t want to spoil their appetites.
“So,” Dash asks with a mouthful of food. “Has Bass Note given us a release date for the next album?”
“Tentative, early February,” Mikayla replies.
All four men groan. They had returned home triumphant from the tour, practically sprinted to the studio, and recorded twenty-four new tracks of songs that Tommy had written on the road. Bass Note was thrilled to have so much new material, and they were already planning another tour, but they wanted to time the album’s release to coincide with it. Meaning the band had to wait for their fans to hear all of their new songs.
That didn’t worry Mikayla. What worries her is the notes that Bass Note made on the album, and the direction they plan to go in for the next one. And as the band’s manager—effective from the moment the band touched down on home soil—it is her duty to bear the bad news to Black Lilith.
Sometimes, she wonders how she would have turned out if she hadn’t met Black Lilith. If she would have gone on doggedly pursuing a career in events management, or if she would still be getting coffee at Bass Note and scrolling through job listings in her spare time. Trixie, the intern who’d helped train Mikayla, is still in those offices, probably fuming that Mikayla had landed the sweet gig of band manager to one of the biggest new bands in America.
Mikayla felt at home in the position. She had the title and the pay that she thought her degree deserved, but she also got to see her beloved Black Lilith every day. She got to listen to their music and offer suggestions about venues and playlists, got to run her fingers through Tommy’s hair when he was high, and throw exasperated looks at Slate when he managed to charm his way into an impossible woman’s bed. She placed bets over who would win when Logan and Dash started wrestling and almost always won. She felt like she’d gotten the best of both worlds. It was hard
to imagine that it wasn’t all a dream.
Of course, she still has to deliver bad news to them. She doesn’t like this part of her job.
Logan, apparently sensing her trepidation, leans over and kisses her on the temple.
“Gross, affection,” Slate says. He doesn’t look grossed out. He looks like a benevolent father. Ever since the show in Miami he has claimed that he knew all along about Logan and Mikayla, and that he only pretended not to know so that they wouldn’t feel threatened.
Both she and Logan had called bullshit on that, but Slate remains stubbornly convinced of his own brilliance.
Tommy watches the pair of them with the same melancholy he has always borne. Mikayla had pulled him aside after the show in Miami, and after she had untangled herself from Logan to ask if he was all right with it.
“I’m not mad,” he’d said. “Honest, I’m not. I just… it makes more sense now. Why she left.”
Then she had held him while he’d cried silently, broken-hearted all over again. He still carries the same melancholy, just for a different reason. Mikayla can’t wait for the day that her favorite bass player can light up again. She hopes that she’s there to see that spectacular show.
Dash, as a typical little brother, responded to the news by tackling Logan and giving him a wedgie.
“Did Bass Note have any notes?” Tommy asks, stuffing a lettuce leaf into his mouth and chewing with his lips politely closed.
Mikayla almost cringes visibly, but she holds it in. “Not on this album, no,” she says. “They think it’s fantastic. Some of your best work, ever.”
They all look at her.
“How did you hide your relationship?” Dash asks, looking between Mikayla and Logan with a sad frown. “She’s terrible at subterfuge.”
Slate piped up, “I knew all along.”
“If you say that one more time, I’m gonna stick this fork—”
