Play For Me

by Tam DeRudder Jackson

  From video stalking him, I knew Jack now sported tattoos over his shoulder and down his right arm—something else that had changed about him since high school. Though his tight T-shirt hid part of that ink, all of it on his arm was on display, the tribal symbols and swirls sexy as hell. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the music, his sticks moving over the drumheads as though he and the drums were one entity. His playing mesmerized me as it always had. As desperately as I wanted to, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, his biceps flexing, his broad sculpted chest visible above his drums, his whole body commanding the beat.

  When the song ended, Dakota flipped guitar picks out at the roaring audience. Annabelle nearly ripped my arm off trying to disengage from me to snag one. I took the moment when she let go and Blu welcomed the crowd to Balefire’s party to grab a quick swig from my flask. The vodka burned going down my throat, but I welcomed the sting. It brought me back into the moment and stopped me from giving in to the lump that had formed in my throat the moment Jack touched his sticks to his skins.

  A second later, my reprieve ended. Dakota struck a chord on his guitar, Jack answered with a flourish over his tom-toms, and exactly like back in high school, Jack’s musicianship captured and held me. Without conscious thought, I moved and swayed to the rhythms he created, the percussions of his sticks on his skins reverberating through me. As the song played, I closed my eyes and became one with the rhythms of his drums. My body moved without my permission as waves of sound washed over and through me, and I became part of the rippling flood of music Jack and his band created.

  The song ended with an explosion of fireworks and flashing lights of purple and chartreuse. I opened my eyes and, disoriented, staggered a little in the chaos of sound and light. Breathing heavily, I righted myself against Annabelle and looked up to discover Jack staring directly at me. At least I thought he stared at me. There were so many people around me I couldn’t be sure he was even looking at me. Then he mouthed my name, and I dropped down hard onto the seat behind me.

  When we arrived at the front row, I had a fleeting thought that the seats were superfluous. After I realized I now sat on one, I was grateful it spared me a more unfortunate drop directly to the floor. I closed my eyes, and for several long seconds, I concentrated on trying to breathe. At last I blinked my eyes open to see Jack standing up behind his drum kit. Blu, oblivious to the little drama playing out between Jack and me, blithely introduced the next song.

  “Thank you, Red Rocks!” he shouted into his mic. “We’re so fuckin’ happy to be home tonight that we thought we’d debut a new song. You good with that?” he teased with a wicked grin, and all the girls in attendance nearly split the red rocks of the amphitheater with their screams. “Jack Whitehorse wrote this one. We hope you like it.”

  While Blu talked to the crowd, Jack never stopped staring at me. “You okay?” he mouthed.

  I could barely manage a nod, but it seemed to satisfy him. After settling behind his drums again, he struck the opening riffs of the song. His timing was so impeccable he didn’t miss a beat even when he clearly hadn’t been ready to play on Blu’s cue. His professionalism left me in awe, like him seeing and recognizing me hadn’t been enough already. Leaving me behind five years ago had worked out well for Jack. He was born to be a professional musician. If I hadn’t suspected as much when we were in high school, I had no doubt about it now.

  The up-tempo song with Jack’s driving drums and Dakota’s scorching guitar licks dragged me up off the seat on which I’d landed so unceremoniously when Jack recognized me. Then Blu started singing the lyrics with Jack adding backing vocals.

  Wait. I didn’t know he sang too.

  Then I listened to the words.

  I’ve been too long without you, baby

  Life’s too short to live it apart.

  Come back to me baby.

  I know I fucked up, and I don’t deserve it.

  But I need your love,

  I need your love tonight.

  Come back to me baby.

  Jack’s voice sounded a plea when he echoed Blu on “Come back to me baby,” and he stared at me throughout the song. It felt as though he sang to me only, but if that were the case, the words made no sense. I never left him. He walked away from me. He erased me from his life. I opened my flask and downed the rest of the vodka in it, wishing Annabelle had had the foresight to slip two flasks into my purse.

  When the song ended, the woman standing on the side of me opposite Annabelle stepped in front of me, and I let her. She made a scene of slipping her hands up her shirt and divesting herself of her lacy red bra. Directing her little show at Dakota, she bounced up and down swinging her bra around above her head and screaming his name until at last, he acknowledged her. When he did, she flung her underwear at him, a bra strap miraculously catching on the pegs of his guitar. He laughed delightedly and flipped a guitar pick at her. For all of the next song, he played with her bra dangling from his axe.

  The crowd roared its approval of both the woman’s and Dakota’s antics, which only encouraged copycats. Soon, bras and panties of all styles, colors, and sizes carpeted the stage in front of the band and a fair amount of the floor along the front row. A couple of pieces of lingerie landed on and near me, so I obligingly tossed them up to join the rest onstage. Somewhere, I heard Balefire encouraged the tossing of lingerie, and apparently, Annabelle knew that as well as she reached into her purse, pulled out a black lace thong, and shot it directly at Dakota’s microphone, landing it perfectly and earning her a naughty grin from the man.

  Catching her attention, I raised an eyebrow in question, but she only shrugged and gazed back at Dakota. She obviously had plans for the after-party. And for some reason, her attention to Dakota and not to Jack made me happy.

  All the underwear mayhem distracted me from Jack for the space of a song. Then the girl who started it all moved back to her spot beside me, and I found myself riveted by his unwavering stare while Blu transitioned the band and the crowd to the next tune. Mercifully, the song involved complicated syncopated rhythms requiring Jack’s full concentration. He focused on his drums, releasing me from his eyes, and I looked around for somewhere to hide. Though the crowd seethed and screamed around me, the very VIPness of the front row left me vulnerable, exposed to his inscrutable intensity.

  Bumping into Annabelle to snag her attention, I leaned close to her ear and shouted, “Got any more vodka? I’m out.”

  With a grin, she handed me her flask. I didn’t think I could drink enough vodka to overcome the emotions surging inside me. But it was worth a shot anyway. I downed most of what Annabelle had left in her flask, which surprisingly, was quite a bit, and hoped it would dull my heart enough to finish the concert.

  Somewhere in my silly schoolgirl brain, I discovered that if I closed my eyes, I could lose myself in the music and not in Jack Whitehorse. Even if keeping my eyes closed made me look ridiculous, it didn’t matter as long as I didn’t have to see him. The maneuver allowed me the fiction of listening to a live concert on my Spotify rather than face the reality of standing a mere thirty feet or so from the one man who had ever mattered to me.

  After a little while, all the vodka I’d drunk started to do its job, and I discovered I could remain upright while still keeping my eyes closed by moving with the crowd swaying around me. In what seemed like a few minutes after I’d made my discoveries, the band finished its set. I glanced up as Jack came out from behind his drums to join the others at the front of the stage for a final bow. When he stood up straight again, he looked right at me and smiled like I was the only person in the entire amphitheater.

  I had no idea what to do with that.

  Chapter Four

  Clio

  That was epic! I’ve never seen such an incredible show in my life!” Annabelle gushed as we made our way toward the VIP corridor.

  “Balefire is amazing in concert,” I agreed, the buzz from the vodka and music simultaneously mellowing me, leaving me eu
phoric. Which made no sense at all considering the emotional turmoil roiling through me for most of the show.

  When we reached the corridor, an usher met us and led us toward the backstage area, and my euphoria evaporated in a nanosecond. No-no-no. I was so not ready for this.

  “They hold the after-party at the venue?” I couldn’t help the way my voice squeaked on the question.

  “No, silly. The party is at the Marriott downtown, where the band is staying tonight. We’re riding to that party in a Town Car.” Annabelle danced a little happy dance and grinned.

  “But what about your Mustang? You’re not leaving it here, are you?”

  What I lacked the courage to ask was, were we riding with the band? I figured the after-party would be a rather raucous and wild event, giving me an opportunity to hide from Jack and watch him surreptitiously. Recognizing me during the show didn’t mean he wanted his old history showing up at his party. It occurred to me that other people from our high school were likely to be in attendance, and wasn’t that going to be awkward? Riding in a Town Car with him and the other members of Balefire? I hadn’t drunk nearly enough vodka for that.

  “A valet is driving it over to the hotel for me. Now stop worrying and stalling. Let’s get the party started!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her behind the usher. “I don’t get you, Clio. You seemed to be having a great time at the concert. Now the real fun begins, and you’re holding back. Why are you acting so weird?”

  “I’m nervous, I guess. You love the spotlight, but I’m everyone’s sidekick. It’s why we’re such good friends.” I nudged her playfully, trying to distract her.

  “Tonight, sister, I have a feeling you’re going to be a whole lot more than anyone’s sidekick.”

  “Annabelle, what aren’t you telling me?”

  She didn’t have the chance to answer as we exited the corridor into a room where several other people excitedly waited for Town Cars too. I relaxed a fraction. We wouldn’t be riding to the party with the band after all. I had more time to compose myself or drink more. The second idea seemed the best until I admitted to myself that so far, I wasn’t smashed. After all the vodka I’d drunk already, it’s a wonder I was coherent.

  On some magical cue, the large group moved as one to an exit where a parade of limousines lined up to take us into the city and the party. Annabelle tugged me toward one of the front cars where we joined two couples and two chattering girls.

  “Check it out, man. There’s a fully stocked minibar in this ride. Who wants a drink?” one of the guys asked as he grabbed and uncapped a beer.

  Several people talked at once, and the guy, I later learned his name was Joey, started handing out beers like he was hosting the party.

  After everyone had a libation and made introductions all around, one of the chatty girls, I think she introduced herself as Hayley, said, “Oh God, did you see the way Dakota smiled when my bra landed on his guitar?” As she spoke, I realized she was the girl who saved me from Jack’s mesmerizing gaze during the show.

  “That red lacy bra was yours?” asked a guy who introduced himself as Sean or Shane or something.

  “Of course you noticed that,” his girlfriend snarled before she elbowed him in the side, crossed her arms over her chest, and turned away to pout.

  The others in the car laughed while Hayley’s friend addressed Annabelle. “Didn’t you toss a black thong at Dakota?”

  “Yeah. Judging from the hot look he shot me, he liked it too,” she said with a self-satisfied grin.

  “Looks like you have some competition tonight, Hayley,” her friend said in a tone so catty I couldn’t understand how they were friends. She leaned back against the plush cushion of the leather seats and eyed me next. “Which band member do you have your eye on, Red?”

  When I didn’t immediately respond, Annabelle spoke for me. “Clio only has eyes for Jack Whitehorse.”

  Gasping at her words, I sat forward and turned my head to look back at her. “What are you talking about?” I squeaked. “I haven’t said a word about him.” I caught myself and sat back, crossing my arms over my chest. “And unlike the rest of you, I wasn’t throwing my underwear onstage.”

  “You didn’t have to say a word. The way you were staring at him said it all.” Annabelle smirked.

  Pushing deeper into the pillowy softness of the plush upholstered seat, I attempted to hide inside my bottle of beer. Still, I endured the scrutiny of the other people in the car.

  “That boy can hammer a set of drums, that’s for sure,” said Sean or Shane. I might have kissed him in gratitude had I been sure his girlfriend wouldn’t throw a punch.

  “Yeah, I was afraid when Dave Brubaker left the band that Balefire would stop playing. Instead, they go out and find Jack Whitehorse and play even better,” said the Joey guy.

  “Jack’s definitely hot,” Hayley added. “I didn’t realize that until he joined the others at the edge of the stage after the encore. All those yummy muscles and tats.” She ran her tongue over her lips, and I worked not to fist my hands.

  “Well, if your plans with Dakota don’t work out, you can always make a run at Jack,” the catty girl said, giving me a what-are-you-going-to-do-about-that? look.

  I abandoned the conversation to stare out the window at the passing lights along the city streets. The Town Cars traveled at speed, indicating we had an escort or were taking an alternate route to skirt the post-concert traffic. At the rate we were traveling, we’d arrive at the hotel in a few minutes, and I broke out in a sweat. After all this time apart with no communication between us, what would I even say to him if I saw him up close and personal?

  The cars pulled up one after the next under the hotel canopy and the passengers began exiting. Being seated next to the door, I had no choice but to leave the car first to let the others out of it though I wished I could jump back in and take a ride to wherever. Somewhere I wouldn’t have to face my past. Somewhere I wouldn’t have to discover why Jack had not only dumped me, but also thoroughly erased me from his life.

  As if she read my thoughts, Annabelle linked her arm through mine and walked us through the front doors and into the opulent lobby of the hotel. For a moment, I considered sinking into the depths of the cushions of one of the inviting brown leather couches. Or disappearing behind a giant potted palm. Before I could act on a plan, security guards met us and escorted us to the elevators. More than anything, I wanted to take a minute and sit on one of the love seats or deep round chairs artfully placed in tête-à-tête arrangements throughout the lobby, catch my breath, hyperventilate in private maybe. Instead, the rest of the VIPs herded me with them onto an elevator that jetted us to a playroom on the penthouse floor.

  As we exited the elevator, the deafening excitement of the others increased by twenty decibels—enough to hear it over the music pulsing from behind a set of double doors. When two security guards opened the doors to let us in, the sound waves of the room nearly flattened me. I staggered back into the arms of a guy from our Town Car, Joey I think. He laughed and righted me before pushing me through the doors ahead of him.

  “Clio, isn’t this awesome?” Annabelle shouted over the sounds of the party.

  I managed a lame smile and nodded.

  She squeezed my hand and spoke directly in my ear. “I’m on a mission. You going to be okay?”

  Again I nodded, and with a grin, she disappeared into the throng, in search of Dakota Perri no doubt, leaving me standing alone on the edge of the crowd. Feeling anything but okay, I slipped back along a wall and stood still for several minutes, attempting to adjust to the people and the noise. To my delight and, weirdly, my disappointment, the room was packed with revelers. I could hide so easily in this crush, but I might not have a chance to talk to—or even to see Jack amid all these people.

  Then again, if groupies surrounded him—or worse, if he’d already hooked up with someone—I didn’t think I wanted to see that.

  A waiter shouldering a tray of drinks
passed near me. Automatically, I reached for one, more to have something to do with my hands than to have something to drink. My vodka buzz had largely worn off, and I’d given up on alcohol doing the job of dulling my senses—or my memories. Looking into Jack’s eyes as he played the show brought back so much I thought I’d repressed in fuzzy images and nebulous dreams. When he mouthed my name at the beginning of the concert, I could hear his voice as it had sounded long ago whispering my name against the shell of my ear before he trailed soft kisses along my jaw on his way to my mouth. I could feel his lips moving on mine, firm and demanding, his kisses drugging me with a desire I couldn’t understand at the time and hadn’t experienced with anyone else since.

  Annabelle’s earlier insistence about having condoms in my purse meant she assumed carrying them was routine for me, that I actually needed them. Truth was, the only person I’d ever been interested in sharing my body with had erased me from his life as soon as he had the chance to pursue his one real dream. Of course, if I actually ran into him, talking’s all that would happen. Annabelle’s optimism could be ridiculous sometimes. I wouldn’t need condoms.

  Back when we were together, I should have seen the end coming. After all, he talked all the time about how he wanted to join a rock band and make the big time. As talented as he was back then, I had no doubt he’d realize his dream. It should have come as no surprise then, to a girl who’d grown up invisible to those who mattered most to her, that she’d be easy for him to erase in favor of following that dream.

  Though I’d dated pretty regularly since high school, I hadn’t become involved enough with anyone to want to have sex with him. One look from Jack Whitehorse, my name mouthed over the top of his massive drum set, and I wondered if Annabelle had any spare condoms in her purse.

  I gave myself a stern mental shake and downed half the flute of champagne I’d snagged from the waiter. Was I seriously contemplating having sex with Jack Whitehorse after not seeing or speaking to him in five long years? After he walked away from me without a backward glance, without a thanks-that-was-fun-but-I’m-moving-on? Get a grip, Clio. The man is exposed to all kinds of women on a nightly basis, all of whom are more interesting—and far more experienced than you. Chill, enjoy the party, and forget about Jack Whitehorse.