by Jess Bentley
Just as Rory was about to pull into the parking space, she thought she saw a familiar face across the road.
The board that said Mike the Mechanic with its familiar rust patterns stood high above the terrace of his shop. Right under that sign stood Arsen Ford, his right hand placed firmly on a walking stick. He wore tight dark-wash jeans that stretched over his body enticingly, and a tight black T-shirt. His hair fell over his face before he raked it over his head again.
It was a dilemma. Should I go say hi to him? No, that would be weird. But why? He was a guest in my house and it is only polite to say hello. Oh God, he’ll think I’m just a groupie or something. No, we’re friends… or are we?
A million thoughts raced through her head as she sat in her car wondering what to do. In the end, she decided to walk up to him on the pretext of asking about his ankle. Rory wished she had put on something better than just a pair of shorts and casual flats. Her loose white top was probably making her look bloated, and it was only at the last moment that she thought of loosening her hair that was tied up in a messy bun.
“Hey.”
Arsen turned around slowly as he heard her call out to him. A playful smile came onto his face.
“I know you,” he said.
“Oh, do you?” She decided to play along.
“Yes. Aren’t you the cat lady with fifty cats who chases around kids on the street with a broom?”
Rory laughed and hit him playfully on his arm. Arsen made a pretend hurt face.
“Hurting an injured man. Is this the kind of hospitality you people show to tourists around here?” He feigned shock but a grin remained plastered on his face. Rory found it hard to resist his infectious smile.
“What are you doing here?” Rory asked.
“Well, I am at a mechanic’s, so clearly I must be grocery shopping.” That smart-aleck smirk was back.
“Aren’t you the sarcastic one today?”
“Just today?” He winked and once again Rory smacked him playfully on the arm. Stop it, Rory!
“I decided to come take a look at the Ferrari and see how fast I could get it back. I have kinda grown attached to this car.”
“I’d think a celebrity like you would have an assistant do this for you,” Rory said.
“In LA maybe, but not here. I wanted to get out of that house and get some fresh air,” Arsen replied. Rory noticed the stress he put on “that house,” and it wasn’t hard to see that he wasn’t really enjoying his time in that luxurious villa, wherever that was.
From the corner of her eye, Rory noticed a flash. Across the street from them, a car stopped and a bunch of people started taking a tall woman’s pictures.
“What’s going on there?” she remarked absentmindedly.
For a split second, there was a look of apprehension on Arsen’s face as he shifted on his feet. Then he turned and laughed it off.
“Paparazzi. These guys really have nothing better to do.”
Rory felt foolish now. Of course, I should’ve figured it out. Paparazzi. Arsen, however, seemed distracted.
“Listen, Rory, I’m done here. Can we go someplace and get a cup of coffee?” he said as he put on some sunglasses and looked once again to where the tall, blonde woman was walking on the sidewalk. Rory thought she saw a hint of recognition in his eyes, but didn’t think it’d be polite to inquire.
Besides, Rory was taken aback by his invitation. She had merely come to say hi to him. Coffee, with Arsen? Say no! Say no right away.
“Actually…” she started, “I know just the place.” Goddammit, Rory!
“Great. Let's go.”
“Aren’t you worried about the paparazzi following you and taking your pictures with me around? Do you really want more rumors flying about you? ‘Rock god Arsen Ford Seen With Plain Jane Townie.’” Rory joked.
“I don’t live my life on their terms. They can click away all they want for all I care. And besides, you are no Plain Jane.” There was a flirty gleam in his eye that sent a flutter through her heart.
“Look who the cat dragged in!” Martha exclaimed as she saw Rory enter the bakery.
“Hey, Martha.” A smile instantly came upon Rory’s face as the old woman’s positive energy hit her.
Martha came out from behind the counter to hug her. While they said their hellos, Arsen stood awkwardly by the side, looking around at the charming cafe. He had tied up his hair and was trying to maintain a low profile. Rory wondered if the fare here would be up to his standards. But she didn’t care; she had to get her fix of Martha’s delicacies.
“Martha, this is my friend Arsen,” Rory said.
“Hello, Arsen. Looks like you got yourself in a mess there,” she said, pointing to his limping foot and the walking stick. Martha, nosy as always, Rory chuckled.
“Well… just a small accident. Nothing serious.”
“That’s good to hear. You kids are just in time. I just pulled out a new batch of pound cake and some hand pies. Wait, let me serve it to you while it’s hot.” With that Martha rushed back toward the kitchen.
“She seems quite a handful,” Arsen smirked.
“Don’t say that.” She stopped herself from hitting him on his arm just in time. “She is a very nice lady…. even if she is a bit nosy now and then.”
The cafe was nearly empty, with just one other couple sitting at a table, munching away. They grabbed a table for two right at the end, as Arsen did not want to be in the direct line of sight of any paparazzi that might be hovering outside.
“This place has the best stuff ever. My grandmother used to bring me here when I was a child and Martha here has practically known me my whole life. Wait till you taste the cupcakes.” Rory was excited at the prospect of sampling the goodies that were about to be served to her.
“I don’t like cupcakes,” Arsen laughed.
“How can anyone not like cupcakes?” Rory gasped.
“Because… they’re gross.” He wrinkled his nose in a mighty cute way.
“Cupcakes are gross?” Rory raised her eyebrows. “You are a weirdo.” She laughingly hit him on the arm.
“If you keep slapping my arm like this, I’m going to need a cast for that, too.” Arsen gestured, making Rory laugh only to notice Arsen’s piercing gaze focused on her face.
“You came here often with your grandma?” Arsen said as he looked at the menu.
“Ever since I was a child.” Rory smiled. “Back in the day this island wasn’t a travel destination. The streets were safer and everyone knew everyone. So Granny and I used to cycle together all the time. She was my tourist guide and would tell me stories about the people and the landmarks as we cruised slowly around.” Rory was lost in a different time.
“That sounds like a happy childhood.” Arsen smiled.
That’s because you haven’t met my parents, Rory wanted to say, but didn’t.
“Vacations here were the highlight of my childhood, yes. This bakery used to be at a different location, much closer to where I stay. I’ve spent hours running around on trails, playing silly games, and getting myself injured in the process,” Rory laughed.
“I bet you were a handful. I bet your grandma got sick of you,” Arsen teased.
“No way. She loved me,” she protested.
“Of course she wouldn’t tell you, but secretly she was annoyed,” he grinned at her.
“Excuse me, mister. Are you trying to say that I am an annoying person?” She raised a brow.
“Only sometimes,” Arsen winked.
Rory raised her hand again to hit him on the arm and then remembered what he had said.
“You, mister, you… you are a handful and some more,” she stuttered a little through her words. Handful and darn cute, Rory thought, as his deep dimples caught her attention again.
“If I wasn’t such a handful…and some more, then you probably wouldn’t be sitting here having coffee with me.” His eye gleamed as his hand reached out toward hers. It wasn’t what he said, but the way he said it
that made Rory’s insides tingle. She was thankful when Martha interrupted.
“Here you go, kids. Fresh from the oven.” She hurriedly put down some pound cake, a bunch of cupcakes, and some hand pies along with two cups of cappuccino. Then she pulled herself a chair from one of the nearby tables, much to Arsen’s surprise.
“How have you been, kiddo? Quite a storm the other day, eh?” Martha asked.
“Nothing unusual for us, right?” Rory replied politely, itching to dig into the cupcakes. Arsen meanwhile had already cut a piece of pound cake and was munching. How rude!
“I hardly see you around here anymore. I see more of that silly friend of yours than I see of you.” Martha started to complain but then stopped. “Look at me yapping while the food gets cold. Dig in, kiddo,” Martha said. Rory picked up a cupcake, wriggled her nose at Arsen, and took a big bite. To hell with eating like a lady.
“Arsen, how long have you lived here?” Martha inquired.
“I don’t live here, just visiting,” Arsen said while munching. So much for eating like a gentleman too, Rory mused.
“I see. For how long?” Martha asked.
“As long as fate intends.”
“But you must have a time period in mind?”
“Time is nothing but an illusion. Don’t you think?”
The coffee Rory was drinking almost snorted out of her nose as she chuckled at how easily Arsen was evading these invasive questions from Martha, something that she herself had always struggled to do.
“What do you do Arsen, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’m a garbage contractor,” he said, without missing a beat. His eyes met Rory’s. Oh, that twinkle in his eye.
“That’s nice. You must make a nice living with that. Don’t you worry though that some of that garbage might get stuck in your long hair? I imagine short hair would be better for such a job?”
“Well I have people who work for me, but then I always tie a scarf around my head,” Arsen said convincingly.
“You better be washing that scarf daily,” Martha chuckled and nudged Rory. Being the homey kind, all Martha could think about was cooking, cleaning, and running things in the household or in the bakery.
“It gets tough. Especially during the rain. We can’t get the trash wet, you know, or it becomes a lot messier,” Arsen continued.
“I can imagine.” Martha was deep in thought; surely a picture of what Arsen was describing was forming in her head.
“We struggle with our garbage disposal here too. Often we have to throw out leftovers when heavy rain ruins sales. I tell you it's quite a chore,” she continued. “Maybe you have some ideas on how I can make the process easier?”
Arsen was taken aback for a moment, but he didn’t let it show. Rory chuckled, waiting to see how he would dig himself out of this hole.
“How about giving it to a homeless shelter?” he said. Rory was impressed with how quickly he came up with a reply. Martha nodded in agreement.
“Funny, I never thought of that before,” she wondered aloud. Rory’s eyes caught Arsen’s and a secret smile passed between them. Their very own secret joke. Soon enough, Martha was off, heading back into the kitchen to supervise something or the other.
“Garbage contractor?” Rory laughed. “But that was a good idea, to give food the homeless shelter. I didn’t know that a bad boy rockstar could be so charitable.”
“When you have seen real hunger, you realize the value of food,” Arsen said with his eyes glued to his coffee cup. Rory was sure that he was speaking from experience, and as much as she wanted to hear his life story, she decided not to prod any further.
“You have a lovely house. It just radiates a positive energy,” he suddenly said. Rory was surprised by his choice of words. That is exactly how she had always thought of her grandmother’s house.
“Thank you. I think so too.” She picked up a piece of cake but then put it back silently, the thought of attempting to fit into the bridesmaid’s dress coming back into her mind.
“It sounds great too,” Arsen said.
“Um?” Rory was confused.
“The house. It sounds great.”
“Sounds great? Do houses make any sound at all?” Rory laughed.
“I meant the acoustics,” Arsen smiled. “When I was playing the piano, the natural reverb of the room was making the instrument sound much better than it actually is. No offense,” he added.
“None taken. I was quite surprised myself about how good the piano sounded. The last time it was played, it didn’t sound anything like when you played it.” Rory got self-conscious as the compliment slipped out of her mouth, but Arsen was lost in his own thoughts.
“It sounded really warm… and rich,” Arsen said in a low voice, as if making a note to himself. Rory took another sip of her coffee.
“We came to this island to write new music. Don thought that if the band took a break from the LA scene then maybe we could focus on getting some work done. So far it’s been a disaster. Apart from the all night parties, we haven’t done anything in that villa that we are paying a fortune to rent.” Arsen looked her right in the eye as he told her this.
“Why? What’s wrong with that villa?”
“Nothing is wrong. It's gorgeous, luxurious, has a studio built in… but there is something missing. The vibe is just not right for the magic to happen. For music to be made,” he added in a wistful tone.
“I am sorry to hear that. I can’t say I know your pain, but in a small way maybe I can relate to it.” She tried to sympathize.
“I’ve barely touched an instrument since I’ve been in that villa. Neither have I wanted to. I was certain that I had carried my writer’s block over from LA, and at one point, I was a miserable enough to give up playing music altogether. But that day in your house, my hands just flew on the piano. Music just spilled out of me.”
Rory didn’t have to be reminded of that. Sounds of that afternoon were still fresh in her mind.
“I was completely lost in the sounds of that piano, like one can get lost in the sounds of rain on a summer evening. I was just overwhelmed with music inside of me and a hundred ideas rushed through. As if the life that had been sucked out of me was being replenished again. It was the magic that I had wanted to feel for so long. That magic makes me write songs. It compels something inside of me to wake up and make music.”
Lost in his own words, Arsen was longing for that creative inspiration. For themes, for the right sign, or the elusive muse. Rory was mesmerized by the passion for music that shined in his eyes. The energy of his voice, and the utter obsession he had with creating music.
“I’m happy you found your muse again.” She smiled at him.
“The muse is the house that the music was played in,” he replied, a slight smile showcasing his pearly whites.
“Meaning?” she asked. Arsen paused for a good minute and then spoke up.
“Rory, would you rent out your house to me?”
10
It was a miracle that Rory wasn’t already sick of the wet weather. As she drove back to her house, it started raining again after raining heavily for most of the day. Lizzy had called her to say that she had already closed the shop and gone home once she saw that the downpour was going to turn into a storm.
As there was no need to reopen the shop, Rory worked on a couple of new designs and then went off to bed rather early. She was stuffed beyond belief as Martha had seen her off with a whole bunch of goodies. Rory couldn’t resist but munch on cupcakes on the way home and was far too full to have dinner.
I gotta start working out soon, she thought as she tried to go to sleep. Arsen’s offer was still ringing in her mind. He had wanted to lease a part of her house and convert it into a temporary studio where he could write songs. He was willing to make it worth her while as well. The idea of having him around was tempting, but a no had popped out of her mouth on autopilot.
Arsen had tried to convince her, but she had rejected his appeals
every time. She simply didn’t like the idea of Arsen and his rowdy band members, especially Mickey Nicks, in her house.
Arsen was interesting, he was charming, and Rory now had no qualms in admitting that he intrigued her, but his bandmates… God only knows what kind of damage they would inflict, not to mention the amount of drugs that would be involved. Of course, she didn’t want to insult Arsen by bringing that up.
What Rory didn’t admit to herself freely however, was that she was also afraid of getting close to Arsen. An afternoon spent with him had confirmed her belief that he wasn’t like other celebrities. Neither was he like the other members of his band. Often he seemed like a regular guy, except that he was sexy like a Greek god and possessed a talent that comes once in a generation. It wasn’t that difficult to be attracted to a guy like that, but the last thing Rory wanted was a short-lived romance with a bad-boy rockstar.
Their meeting had played like a movie in her head a hundred times since that afternoon. She was almost sure that there was a spark of attraction in his eyes for her. Even when he was trying to convince her, his hand had landed on hers, caressing it gently. She could see why she would be attracted to him, but what she couldn’t fathom was why he would be attracted to her. He must have a million girls running after him. Why me?
In the end, she convinced herself that it was all a figment of her imagination and Arsen was probably being overly charming only because he wanted to lease her house. Going to and fro between these thoughts, she somehow drifted off to sleep.
A slight drizzle greeted her when she woke up in the morning. As she looked out her window, she could see a whole lot of water still splashed out on the road. A couple of trees had broken branches too. Nothing that would concern a resident of Montcove. Thoughts of Arsen and his handsome face entered her mind and she found it difficult to sweep away the smile that came upon her face. Rory realized that she had forgotten how it felt to be attracted to a man. Especially a man who could get her pulse racing fast simply by just being there.
