Sugar Moon (Vermonters Forever)

by Ali Dean

  Fortunately, Grace is distracted by someone over my shoulder. “Tanner! Did you play already? Don’t tell me we missed you.”

  I twist to find him standing with a turkey leg of his own.

  “I’m up next, but I don’t think I can wait until after the show for dinner. I’m starving.”

  “Have a seat,” Mom offers.

  “I’ve only got a couple minutes,” he tells them as he sits down.

  “How’s the roommate situation going?” DD asks.

  She has no idea what a loaded question that is. And that was before we saw each other butt-naked just over an hour ago.

  Tanner doesn’t look at me as he gives a generic answer. “It’s going well. The timing worked out great so I could move out of the cottage for Jill and Matt.”

  “Charlie’s so busy this time of year, you probably get the house mostly to yourself.”

  Tanner nods. “Not only with work. She’s now got yoga, frisbee, and aren’t you all still doing Wednesday night running group and happy hour?”

  Grace smiles. “Never a dull moment.”

  Mom turns to me. “That’s right, you were showing properties all day today too. I wanted to ask who the client was and how they found you.”

  I glance at Tanner, whose eyes are already on me. This can’t be a secret, given he’s planning to buy a place and live there and everyone will know about it. But somehow, it feels like it is one. Or should be. Tanner answers for me.

  “It’s me.”

  My parents slowly turn their heads to look at him, and I can see in their expressions they’ve got no idea what to make of it. Grace, who doesn’t know we’re talking about multi-million-dollar properties, is the first to speak. “Oh wow! That’s so exciting.”

  “It is exciting,” Tanner says, and he means it. I could see him getting more amped up throughout the day as he considered the possibilities. “It will be cool to have my own place. I mean, my own place that I can be in forever if I want. The cottage was mine while I lived in it, but since I was a tenant, it wasn’t forever,” he clarifies.

  My parents are still too stunned and confused to say anything.

  We hear the band on the other end of the field finish their last song.

  Tanner stands up, holding a half-eaten turkey leg. I have a flash of something else that hand was holding, and I have to blink a few times to dispel the image. “I’ll have to eat this on the walk back. Nice to see you.”

  We wave goodbye, all of us quiet as we check out his backside before it disappears into the crowd. Or maybe that’s just me.

  “So, what’s all this about Tanner looking at properties listed for two or three million dollars?” DD asks.

  “What?” Grace practically shrieks.

  “Honestly, I don’t know.” I explain my initial theories – that it was some kind of business venture and he was going in with his parents or bandmates. “But he seems to be looking purely for residential purposes, and all on his own.”

  With Grace there, my parents don’t ask whether financing has been discussed yet, and I don’t offer that he’s planning to pay in cash. The financial piece is always private and confidential. Of course, with the exception of theorizing how a guy we’ve only known to earn his living from sporadic band gigs has millions of dollars to drop.

  “He must have inherited some kind of fortune from a distant relative.” Grace reaches the same conclusion I had.

  I don’t mention my other theory in front of my parents. Tanner could secretly be a drug dealer. I mean, Sugarville has had drug problems over the years. It’s sort of on the route between Montreal and Boston or New York, and that’s how drugs have found their way here in the past. I don’t see Tanner as a drug dealer, but what do I know?

  When Tanner’s band starts up, Grace and I decide to head closer to the stage. After stopping to get more beer on the way, we pass Valerie the barista and a couple of women I don’t recognize standing at one of the few high-top tables.

  She waves us over, and introduces us to her new friends from Burlington, who she apparently just met at the beer garden. Valerie is already a little tipsy, which happens to the best of us at Beer Fest. People start out trying little samples early in the day, and by early evening after being in the sun all day, don’t even realize they’re drunk.

  No judgment here. I’ve fallen victim more than once myself.

  “We were just talking about Tanner Moon!” Valerie exclaims. Of course they were. Even if he weren’t on stage at the moment, it’s no surprise. Women are always talking about Tanner Moon.

  Valerie leans forward to tell us. “Maple Moonshine played at the wedding these two were at a couple weeks ago.”

  “Did you come up to see them play again? Aren’t they amazing?” Grace asks.

  “Well, we came to see them play,” the one named Meg answers, “but also because we’re kind of hanging out with Nick and Tanner.”

  Kind of hanging out? I know exactly what she’s saying. And it absolutely should not make my blood boil or fists clench, but it does. I pick up my beer from the table and take a long sip.

  The woman named Kathleen is less confident about this “hanging out” description. “Well, you and Nick have talked a few times since the wedding. I’m not even sure Tanner knows I’m here. He didn’t respond to my text earlier.”

  “Oh, that’s probably because he was with Charlie all day looking at properties,” ever-cheerful Grace informs her.

  Kathleen gives me a closer inspection, and before she can draw the wrong conclusion I explain, “I’m his real estate agent.” She looks like a sweet girl, but if anyone can make a woman’s claws come out, it would be Tanner. I don’t want to deal with that when there’s nothing going on between us. Another vision of him, mouth parted, wet naked body jerking, assaults me. I push it away with force. Come on mind, you know that doesn’t mean anything’s between us. It was an accident.

  “I can’t tell what he’s thinking.” Join the club. “We had this incredible night.” She looks up at the sky and gets a dreamy smile. “Like, the type of night you really start to think, this is the type of connection in fairy tales. Is this really happening to me right now?”

  I nod like I understand, but I’m starting to feel a little sick. I’m definitely not in that club. I can only relate to the not-knowing-what-he’s-thinking part.

  “But then when we text, it sort of feels like it never happened.”

  “I’ve read the texts,” her friend says. “It’s kind of like a brush-off, but we also realized on the way here, he might not know she lives so close. But I told her some people just aren’t text people, you know?” Meg looks at the rest of us for confirmation.

  Valerie tells them, “I could see Tanner being like that. I mean, I’m jealous as hell of you, but I would tell you not to put too much stake in text messages. If the actual night you spent with him was amazing, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping,” she says nervously, glancing up at the stage.

  “Hey Charlie, I heard he’s your new roommate. Maybe you know what’s going on?” Valerie’s question has Kathleen looking at me again, this time with a whole different kind of interest.

  “You’re his roommate?” Kathleen sounds a little starstruck. Does she think Tanner is some sort of celebrity?

  “Just temporarily. Like I said, I’m his real estate agent too, so he’s just between places until he buys his own.”

  “Can you tell me what he’s like?” Her voice is filled with wonder, and he’s clearly still a mystery to her, which makes the sick feeling in my gut lessen. They might have had an incredible night together, but she hasn’t cracked the mystery surrounding the man yet.

  “He’s only been my roommate a week and I barely ever see him, so I’m not much help.”

  As I watch Tanner up on stage, I let myself take in his strong voice and feel it vibrate through me, there’s a prickling sensation running along my spine. What I said might not be true anymore. I do
know Tanner Moon. Not as well as I want to, that’s for sure, but well enough that an unfamiliar flare burns inside of me when other women talk about him.

  It’s ridiculous, really. Of course he hooks up with women. I didn’t actually think he was celibate.

  That fire raging inside me when I glance at Kathleen watching him onstage, I don’t want to identify it. But it keeps flaming, until I finally admit the truth and call it what it is. Possessiveness. Since when did I start thinking of him as my Tanner Moon?

  Just because he’s my roommate and my client, doesn’t make him mine.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tanner

  “How’s it going having a roommate?” My stepdad Allen asked as he took a seat beside me in the backyard where I grew up.

  “I liked living by myself better,” I responded automatically, but as soon as the words were out, there was a sour taste in my mouth. I did like living by myself better. That couldn’t have changed. It’s not as if I enjoyed naked women walking in on me jerking off in the shower.

  Meatball trotted over to me and I swore he was giving me a disapproving look. Daring me to question my own thoughts.

  “Charlie is just great though, isn’t she? She’s always been so full of spirit.” Mom handed me a glass filled with pink liquid and I sniffed. “It’s watermelon sangria. Let me know what you think. I’m serving it at book club tonight.”

  “You’re hosting tonight?”

  “She is. And I’m going to take the dogs on a nice long walk. Might pass by your new place. Should I stop by and say hi?”

  Charlie got visitors nearly every day. People out on the trail that passed by her backyard just came right on up to the back door. Most of the time she wasn’t there and I was trying to write. After the first couple of times, I stopped answering. But sometimes I thought about if they had been stopping by to say hello to me instead, and how that might actually be a nice surprise. They wouldn’t expect to stay or be entertained. Just a chance to check in and catch up real quick before going on their way. I was surprised the idea didn’t repel me.

  “Sure. You can stop by. I’ll probably just be writing.” I planned to stay home tonight instead of going to the barn. Charlie had never come home last night and I skipped my usual morning workout to wait for her. Not that I’d planned to talk to her or hang out, I’d just wanted to know she got home and was okay. By the time I’d left this afternoon for my parents’ house, there was still no sign of her. The possibilities of where she could have gone and who she was with were torturing me. I’d been trying all day to reason with myself: it had never been my business before, and it wasn’t now.

  “I probably won’t be living at Charlie’s house for long. I’ve decided to buy a place of my own.”

  “Good for you!” Mom beamed.

  I told them about the properties I’d looked at yesterday, and that Charlie was my real estate agent. “Her parents know I’m looking at these properties, and I know you’re friends with them. They’re coming over tonight, right?”

  “Why do you sound concerned?”

  “Well, the properties are pretty expensive. I’m sure Charlie, Dianne and Peggy are wondering where I’m getting the money to pay for it. They might even think I don’t have the money and I’m wasting their time.”

  “Why don’t you just tell them it’s from writing books?” Allen asked, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “Because then they’d want to know the name of the books and I’d have to tell them I have a pen name. And then they’d want to know the pen name.”

  “You could just tell them you have a pen name because it’s a secret and not tell them what it is,” he suggested.

  “Or I could say I inherited it from a great-aunt.”

  “Honey, you don’t have any wealthy great-aunts, and as far as I know you aren’t inheriting anything from the ones you do have.”

  “He’s saying he’d lie.” Thank you, Mr. Obvious.

  Mom reached over and squeezed my knee. “Tanner, honey, when you first decided on this anonymity thing, I didn’t really understand it. I’m just so proud of you, I always have been. I don’t understand why you don’t want anyone to know about your books.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want anyone to know about the books, I just don’t want anyone to know I’m the author,” I clarified. If I could do that with music, I would. But that would require wearing a costume on stage and no one recognizing my voice. I’d thought it through.

  Mom ignored the distinction. “Once you got so famous, and your books became so well known, I was a little relieved you’d chosen a pen name. With millions of fans, mostly female, I can only imagine the fanfare if they knew Virginia Rose was really a strapping young man.”

  I had to smile and shake my head at my mom’s description of me as a “strapping young man.”

  Allen tips his beer at me. “You’d probably be considering things like security as you looked at properties.”

  “It’s not like I’m a household name. Authors aren’t movie stars, you guys.” I wasn’t entirely dismissing what they were saying. One of my series had been made into a popular television show, which had made the Virginia Rose name slightly more mainstream. I’d had quite a few fanatics who made me feel extra grateful my real identity was anonymous. But I assured my parents, “Readers are more interested in the stories and the characters than the person writing the words.” Most readers, at least.

  “You’re a household name in some households.” Mom was so proud of me, it probably killed her she couldn’t tell anyone about my books.

  “I still don’t get why you can’t tell the Ashleys, at the very least.” Allen narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t embarrassed, are you? Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed. You’re a number one New York Times bestseller. How many times now? Eight? Would be more if they hadn’t gotten all snooty and remove the e-book category to exclude self-published books.”

  I didn’t answer that. “Allen, I write sex scenes. Under a woman’s name.”

  “You’re really embarrassed about that?” Mom sounded incredulous. “Tanner, all adults have sex. It’s how you came to be. Is it because your characters are sometimes shape shifters and not entirely human?”

  “I’m not embarrassed.” I really didn’t want my mom reminding me she had sex. “I like the anonymity because I like writing knowing no one I know will read it. I can write whatever I want and escape reality entirely because nothing about my reality touches my writing. They don’t mix.”

  My parents stared at me. Mom blinked a few times before saying, “Of course they mix. All of your ideas come from reality in some way or another.”

  “And what’s this about no one you know reading it? Your mom and I read all your books.”

  “I guess I let myself forget about that and turn it off when I write.”

  “See, you can do it with other people then too,” Mom concluded hopefully.

  “If I tell Charlie or her parents, others might find out too. I’m sure they’d keep it to themselves if I asked them to, but where does it stop? Everyone else is going to wonder where I got the money from once I move. I either stick with the great-aunt explanation, or I try to find a property to buy that’s cheap enough not to provoke questions.” I’d looked up cheaper real estate; there were other options, very few with much land. But I’d been making seven figures for almost a decade now, and I’d barely touched it. The money just kept growing, and while I’d paid off my parents’ mortgage and tried to unload as much as I could on them, it was getting ridiculous. I’d finally found something worthwhile to spend some of it on.

  “Would it be so bad if everyone in town knew?” Mom pressed. “As long as there’s no announcement or connection on the internet, it’s not as if readers are going to track you down and start camping in your front yard. You just said yourself it’s not like you’re a movie star.”

  I had said that. And it was true, no one in town was about to tell a media outlet. Even if they did…
well, yeah, that would be a bummer. But I already had more money than I knew what to do with, I could stop writing under Virginia Rose and start a new one. Any buzz about Virginia being a man would die off quickly.

  I wasn’t attached to the Virginia Rose brand. I was attached to my worlds and characters while I was in them. But when a series ended, I moved on to the next one.

  “I don’t want people coming up to me wanting to talk to me about my books all the time,” I argued, another reason why anonymity was the way to go.

  “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.” Allen shrugged, and somehow it made me feel like my reasoning was pretty empty.

  “We’re not going to try to convince you to do something if you don’t want to. I’m not sure I want to get wrapped up in a story about a great-aunt, but if I have to fib a little for my son’s happiness, I’ll do it.” Mom patted my knee, and I felt like an asshole.

  After all these years of having a secret identity and life, believing it was absolutely necessary, this conversation knocked me off balance. We’d never really discussed it. We’d never had to.

  “What do you think of the watermelon sangria?” Mom asked, and we moved on.

  When I got back to the house an hour later, my heart dropped to my stomach. Charlie’s car still wasn’t there.

  After my show, I’d seen her a couple of times at Brew Fest with Grace. More than one guy approached them. Maybe she went home with one. Would it be overstepping if I texted her to check in? Probably. We weren’t that kind of roommates. I’d barely been around, and had it only been a week since I moved in?

  Meg and Kathleen had found us right after we got off stage. I’d thought I’d give the casual-more-than-one-night concept a shot. If she started coming up to see me too often or seemed on a different page, I’d cut it off. But one more night wouldn’t hurt. It would help with the Charlie situation.

  That lasted about five minutes before I realized Kathleen was already on a different page. She had no interest in casual. I was pretty proud of myself that I went with honesty, even knowing it would hurt her feelings. When I told her I didn’t want anything serious and wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, I really wasn’t expecting her to get teary-eyed. But her reaction confirmed that I’d made the right call. She didn’t even try to pretend like she’d be cool with something else.