‘Don’t worry.’ Tabitha smiled at Rachel, squeezing her hand. ‘Emily, my cat, is waiting for me and I don’t want her to get lonely.’
Loud voices came closer, and then the door to the hall opened.
The row silenced.
Linden and GJ stared at Tabitha, mouths open wide.
Tabitha owned the space. Her hair streamed around her shoulders, the gauzy fabric of her dress floating in the breeze from an open window. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, eyeing each of them in turn.
They stood, rooted. Then scrabbled out of the way. She stepped into the hall and then out of the door, held her hand up in a gesture of goodbye and walked off down the street.
Her heart sank as she walked away. She knew she was doing the right thing, but whatever it was that connected her to Dylan was trying to pull her back like a taut elastic band. She turned. He was standing outside his front door, his face dark, overshadowed in the evening light. His hands were shoved into his pockets. She felt the threads of energy he was sending out to her, sadness, hope and regret.
‘We’ll get our time,’ she whispered, and then turned for home and Emily.
17
Dylan
Putting on his gig wear, Dylan focused into himself, looking for the creative heartbeat the band relied on. It was cold outside, but the chill on his bare legs would only be for a short time and the khaki combat shorts would give him freedom to move for the whole night. He began to sing as he rolled his shoulders and flexed his back. Playing the drums was a full body work out.
‘Are you ready?’ GJ shouted, banging repeatedly on his door.
‘Cut that out. I have ten minutes yet,’ Dylan snapped. Ever since seeing Tabitha yesterday, he had been questioning pretty much everything about his life. He could play the drums forever, but could he be happy playing local gigs with Instantaneous Rock for the rest of his life? Or did he have the talent to go further? He thought about the guitar sitting on the stand at his mum’s. His friends had never even heard him play. They’d never heard him sing either. He’d been categorised as the drummer at the age of ten when they’d formed the band. Apparently, there was no space to experiment and switch things around.
He spent longer than usual styling his hair and making sure his stubble was the perfect length. He looked at his tattoo in the mirror, flexing his bicep to see the movement of the tiger. On cue, he heard a rumble behind him and turned to see the white tiger watching.
‘What are you doing in there, Dylan? Applying your make-up?’ Linden shouted.
Dylan heard muttering from the living room and then the front door banged.
The cat made a soft purring rumble and settled down on the floor.
‘I know you can understand me, but I wish I could tell what you were thinking.’ Dylan sat on the bed and leaned his elbows on his thighs. ‘I have no idea what you are. Maybe you’re my muse? My guardian come to life? Could Tabitha see you at Mum’s yesterday? I couldn’t help feeling there was a connection there somehow.’
The tiger got up, padded closer and then lay down again inches from his feet.
‘I must be losing it. Not only am I seeing things, but I’m talking to them as well. God!’ He stood up and pulled on his trainers.
‘I’m ready,’ he shouted, standing in the open door a moment too long, letting the tiger through. As it passed next to his legs it disintegrated, leaving an empty space next to him that sent chills up his spine. He made his way down the hallway to the front door.
‘Linden’s gone,’ GJ said, pulling on his shoes. ‘He needed to speak to Bob before the gig.’
‘Thank goodness,’ Dylan said, letting out his breath in a rush. ‘I could do without any more aggro.’
‘Ignore him.’ GJ opened the front door. ‘He’s just jealous because he doesn’t look as good as you. He knows everyone fancies the drummer.’
Dylan laughed. ‘Don’t let him hear you say that.’ He picked up his drumsticks and strode through the door, not bothering with a coat.
‘Dylan,’ GJ said, keeping pace, ‘I can tell something’s wrong. Is it Linden? I know he’s a nightmare, but you’ll never understand how much your presence in the band means to me.’
‘Well, thanks,’ Dylan said. ‘But you know I can’t stay here just for you.’
GJ sighed. ‘I know. Linden won’t ever leave Wildley Forest and, if I’m honest, neither will I. I love gigging, but I enjoy my programming job too. I’m not going to give up a solid career for the chance at a dream I’m not good enough for. But you are good enough. You should do whatever you can to get yourself out there. Quit the cafe. Quit the band, but do me one favour. Don’t forget me.’
Dylan gaped at GJ. Phrases were looping in his mind that were now spectacularly out of date. GJ is suffocating. GJ will never grow up. GJ needs to get over himself. GJ will never get anywhere. In a moment, the man in front of him had turned from a jealous schoolboy to a man with a solid career, who played gigs in his spare time and wanted the best for his friend. How had GJ grown up so much, while Dylan was still working in a job he hated, wishing someone would magic up opportunities for him? The only person bailing on his future was him.
GJ shuffled his feet and shrugged. ‘I’ve always known you were the best of us. You just need to realise it yourself.’
Dylan swallowed and gave him a hug. ‘You’ll always be one of my best friends. Don’t ever worry about that. And, thank you.’
GJ let out a breath and leaned against a lamp post. ‘One of my friends is a producer. If you record a demo, I’d be happy to pass it on to him.’
‘You’ve kept that quiet.’ Dylan raised his eyebrows.
GJ shrugged. ‘I didn’t think you were ready.’
Dylan inclined his head. He probably hadn’t been.
18
Dylan
The atmosphere in the pub was intoxicating. The room was packed, voices were raised, and people were staggering around drunk already.
‘Let’s own this room before it owns us.’ Dylan twirled his drumsticks then launched into a roll that set the crowd cheering. ‘Give it to me, GJ!’ he yelled over the sound of his own snare and whooped as GJ began a fast intro.
Linden kicked in a long, high note that had everyone screaming and then the song was on its way. Dylan sank into the feeling of the music, letting it carry him and holding it by turns. He had this. A moment of realisation had changed everything. It was up to him to make his life happen. He watched the guys playing as he held the music together, leading it, shaping it, holding them up as they surfed his rhythm.
He couldn’t see Tabitha, but she would come. There was no way she could miss an evening as perfect as this one. He had no idea why he was so sure she would know. He didn’t even have her phone number. Why didn’t he have her phone number? He had been so absorbed every time he’d seen her, that he’d never managed to have such a sensible and real-world thought. Plus, she always turned up at the right moment. How did she do that?
The tiger snaked through the crowds and Dylan whooped again in greeting. It snarled and he laughed, rising even higher on the energy. He hadn’t had a drop to drink. He didn’t need it. The music would take him all the way. It was all the help he would ever need.
A heightened buzz hit Dylan with a force that almost winded him. The fizz started in his chest and flowed out to the tips of his fingers and toes. He looked around. The surging mass of people in front of him were indistinguishable for a moment, and then one face became clear. She stood in the middle of the room, her copper hair flowing loose and wavy over her fine-boned shoulders. The long, flared sleeves of her gauzy tunic lay low over the backs of her hands. She lifted one arm and twirled something between her fingers. It was an envelope.
Dylan’s heart raced and his drumsticks ached to keep pace. He tried to hold back. He laughed at the alarm on Linden’s face when he pushed the slow love song behind the bounds of anything reasonable, but he had the reins. None of them had the strength to fight his beat and he was taking them into
euphoria.
‘Again?’ Linden shot him a furious look.
Dylan kept drumming. Linden barely registered.
‘I said stop,’ Linden shouted through a pause.
Dylan blinked. He faltered, the sticks skidding across the snare. Linden was staring right at him.
He stopped.
There was silence. The air was electric.
The crowd knew something was wrong.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Linden said from between gritted teeth.
Dylan slammed his drumsticks down on the snare, making it rattle. ‘Making music.’
‘Music?’ Linden laughed. ‘You just destroyed my song.’
‘Your song?’ Dylan asked. ‘You didn’t write it.’
‘What’s your problem, Dylan?’ Linden pointed at Tabitha. ‘Is it her? She’s messed with your head. Things have gone to hell since she arrived.’ He glared at her. ‘Just leave us alone.’
Tabitha met Dylan’s gaze, held up the envelope again and slid it onto the bar. Then she crossed the floor and walked out the door.
‘Bloody hell, Linden,’ Dylan said, standing up.
‘Are you seriously chasing after her now?’ Linden asked.
Dylan clenched his jaw.
‘Just leave,’ Linden said. ‘Don’t bother coming back. Ever.’
Dylan slid out from behind the drums and jumped off the stage.
‘You hear me?’ Linden yelled after him. ‘This is it.’
Dylan gave a salute and made his way through the crowd and over to the bar. He grabbed the white envelope. The atmosphere in the room was thick, heavy and unmoving. Then someone started clapping, slowly, rhythmically. Another person joined, and then the whole room was applauding. Dylan’s eyes widened at the sea of faces turned to him, smiling, their hands clapping out the rhythm of one of their songs. He gave a nod, and then made his way through the crowd to the door. The tiger stood there, a rumbling approval coming from its ribcage. He approached, and then stopped. If he continued through the door, he’d touch the tiger. It didn’t move. It was waiting. He stepped forwards, his bare leg rubbing against the cat’s fur. Dylan gasped. It was so soft and deep, so real. The cat met his gaze. There was an intelligence in its eyes that reached deep into his heart. It was … comforting. The tiger’s eyes were familiar, but he couldn’t remember why he knew them. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured. He blinked and the cat was gone.
He stepped through the door, hoping Tabitha would still be there. But the road was empty, orange lights from the street lamps glinting on the glossy damp of the pavements.
He looked down at the envelope in his hand. It had branding from the zoo on the front and his name and address in the middle. Feeling a stab of excitement, he tore it open and pulled out the bright, white paper. ‘I’m delighted to say …’ was as much as he read before his eyes blurred.
He closed them tight, and then read again. He read faster and faster, determined to take in every word, and then he started back at the beginning. Had Tabitha known what she was delivering? Had she known he was being offered the job? That he would be at the zoo five days a week from now on?
Knowing the guys would be at the pub for a while yet, Dylan headed to the flat. It was blissfully quiet when he let himself in. It was rare for him to have the place to himself, so he hoped the guys would stay and finish the gig. He dug around in his drawer for a pencil and some paper, sat down and began to pick at the guitar.
He’d brought it home the night before after playing for Tabitha. The chords formed in his mind and he opened to them, allowing the tune and the heartbeat to flow through him and out through his fingers.
The tiger moved around him as he sang, the words and melody coming to his lips from somewhere deep inside, somewhere waiting to be explored. The tiger was a doorway to something special, something powerful, an unformed version of himself. His heart swelled and images of Tabitha curled through his mind. He saw her drawing, saw her watching the tigers, standing in the audience. The notes flowed through him even faster now, the words gathering on the page in a way that had little to do with logical thought and everything to do with an outpouring of feeling that was so new to him, so powerful and authentic that a path opened up in his mind. He had a new job, the music was flowing and life was changing in front of his eyes.
19
Dylan
The door slammed open, the handle ricocheting off the wall.
Dylan leapt up, guitar and songbook in hand, eyes wide as Linden strode into the room. ‘For God’s sake, Linden!’ Dylan said through gritted teeth. He sat down, leaning the guitar up against the armchair and dropping his head into his hands, waiting for his heart to stop racing.
‘You humiliated me today.’ Linden stood over him, crowding him, his teeth clenched, eyes narrowed. ‘You turned the audience against me.’
Dylan stood up, put a hand on Linden’s chest and gave him a shove backwards. ‘You did that all by yourself.’
‘What were you playing before we came in?’ GJ asked.
‘It’s nothing. Just a song I wrote.’
‘You wrote a song?’ Linden snorted. ‘What do you know about writing songs?’ He made a grab for the book.
Dylan jerked it away from Linden’s hand. ‘I’ve written songs before.’
Linden gaped. ‘You have? Why won’t you show me? Are you working with someone new?’
‘It’s for me,’ Dylan said.
Linden let out a bark of laughter. ‘So now you’re a songwriter, singer, guitarist and drummer? He definitely doesn’t need us anymore, GJ, not with all those talents.’
‘Linden,’ GJ said, his voice sharp. ‘That’s enough.’
‘Just the thought of drummer-boy singing …’
‘Have you ever heard me sing, Linden?’ Dylan said, his voice quiet. ‘Do you have any idea what I’m good at?’
‘You’re not good at anything.’ Linden leaned back against the wall. ‘If you were, you wouldn’t be sat at the back of a village band, going nowhere.’
‘As are you.’ Dylan took a step closer. His voice was soft, but rage was building from the centre of his chest, spreading through his body to his hands and brain. ‘What makes you think you’re any better?’
‘I am at the front of the band. I’m the one the girls shout for.’
‘You sing covers in a village pub.’ Dylan balled his hands into fists, but held them rigid at his sides.
Linden got right up in his face. ‘I am better than you.’
Dylan stepped back. He narrowed his eyes at Linden, and then punched him in the face.
Linden yelled and reeled back, clutching his jaw. ‘You bastard!’ he snarled, and then barrelled into Dylan headfirst, winding him.
They flew across the room and crashed into the table. For a moment, Dylan lay back on the wooden surface trying to catch his breath before Linden grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him up. Dylan swung his arm round, dislodging Linden and then shoved him hard into the dining table.
‘Urgh,’ Linden groaned. He dragged himself up, clenching his fists at his sides and advanced on Dylan until they were nose to nose.
Dylan glared at him. They were equally matched and they both knew it.
Dylan didn’t flinch. ‘If you’re so much better than me, replace me.’
‘Maybe I will. You used to be inspired, but now you’re dragging us down.’ He shoved Dylan, who flailed for a moment, and then grabbed hold of Linden’s hair as he fell. Dylan groaned as he landed hard on the edge of the armchair. The chair scooted backwards and dropped Dylan onto the floor, just as Linden crashed onto a flimsy wooden table, sending splinters flying.
‘No,’ Dylan yelled as his guitar toppled slowly.
GJ launched forwards, caught it, and then shoved it at Dylan. ‘Stop it!’ he yelled. ‘Stop!’
Dylan and Linden froze. They had never seen GJ this angry before. His face was red, his eyes bulging. ‘You are friends, for God’s sake. We’re all supposed to be friends.’
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Linden pulled himself up and rolled his shoulders. Then he went out to the kitchen and came back with two bottles of beer. He handed one of them to GJ. ‘You’ve been acting weird ever since Tabitha arrived,’ he said, not looking at Dylan. ‘She’s addling your brain.’
‘No!’ Dylan rubbed a hand across his forehead. ‘You have been acting weird ever since Tabitha arrived. I’m not going my own way because of her, I’m going because you are so damn suffocating. You don’t want anything to change. Ever. You have your cushy jobs and your evening gigs to make you feel like superstars, but what have I got? What in my life do you think is worth hanging on to?’
‘Us!’ Linden’s voice was like ice. ‘We are worth hanging onto.’
Dylan eased himself up and massaged his bruised arm. His voice was quiet. ‘If you were a real friend, you wouldn’t try to stop me making something of myself. You wouldn’t try to hold me stuck in this no-man’s-land where I have nothing of my own. You would let me become myself.’
‘Have I been holding you back too, Dylan?’ GJ looked broken. He was pale, his eyes over-bright in the artificial light. ‘I understand Linden has been a pain in the arse, I get that.’
‘What?’ Linden said. ‘Where did that come from?’
‘I get it,’ GJ carried on. ‘I get that you need something in your life to be about you and not him, or me. But Linden and I don’t tell you what to do. You’ve always been free to follow your dreams. Why is it our fault that you haven’t bothered?’
Dylan dropped his head into his hands. ‘Please don’t look at me like that,’ he said to GJ.
‘Like what?’ GJ sounded tired, far older than his twenty-three years.
‘Like I’ve kicked you in the nuts.’
‘Well, maybe you have. And maybe I need to be given some time to feel the pain before I can get over it and move on. We made our choices; you’ve made yours and now we all have to live with them.’
Wild Shadow : A Sweet Paranormal Romance Page 7