Broken Rock

by K. A. Finn

‘The horse.’

  He glances over his shoulder at her. ‘Jove.’

  ‘Roman God of the sky and thunder. You like mythology?’

  ‘I was really into it when I was a kid. The name just seemed to suit him. You said you’re not local. Where are you from?’

  ‘I’m actually from the area years ago but have been moving all over the country my whole life. I spent the last year in Alaska. My uncle got a crazy idea to live off-grid in the wilderness a few years ago. He had a nasty fall and refused to stay in hospital while he recovered. I decided what the hell. I had nothing else planned, so I moved in with him for a few months. I ended up staying just short of a year.

  ‘I came back to Wicklow to spend some time with my gran before I settle into my new career in a few months. She’s visiting my aunt so I’ve got the place to myself for a bit. Absolute bliss. I can’t tell you how amazing it was to have a shower with hot running water I didn’t have to pull from a well and heat over the stove. And don’t get me started on the toilet situation.’ It feels like she hits her head against his back. ‘Sorry TMI.’

  He smiles as he tries to keep Jove to a walk. He’s used to going a little faster on this stretch of the beach. ‘Already forgotten. Did you like it? Alaska, not the toilet situation.’

  ‘I thought you said you’d forgotten?’

  ‘I will in a few minutes. I promise.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that. Alaska was amazing. Don't get me wrong, it’s a hard life he’s chosen, but so nice. I’m thinking of heading back next year for a few months. So Tate, what do you do?’ She must notice his body tensing at her question. ‘Sorry, it’s none of my business.’

  ‘No, it’s grand. I guess I’m just used to everyone around here knowing everyone else’s business.’

  ‘You can safely assume I know nothing about anyone.’

  ‘I’m a musician.’

  ‘Wow! That’s amazing. Are you any good?’

  He brings Jove to a stop and looks over his shoulder. She honestly doesn’t have a clue who he is. He examines her face but can’t see anything off. In fact, everything is pretty damn perfect. Her green eyes narrow as she looks at him.

  ‘Are you okay? What did I say?’

  ‘Did you seriously just ask me that? The part about me being any good.’

  Chloe shrugs. ‘It’s what people ask, isn't it? Then again, I guess it’s a loaded question. It’s not like you’re going to say you’re crap.’

  He turns more in the saddle and rubs a hand over his jaw as he frowns at her.

  ‘Why do you keep frowning at me like that?’

  ‘Sorry. I guess I’m good at it... music not frowning.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself. You’re not too bad at frowning.’

  Tate laughs and shakes his head as he nudges Jove forward again. He hasn’t had a normal conversation like this in a long time. Lately it’s been all about how he’s feeling, or other deep and meaningful questions meant to get into his head so he could be fixed. This feels strange but in a good way.

  Chloe adjusts her hands around his waist, holding onto him a little tighter. ‘So do you make a living out of music?’

  ‘Yeah. I make an okay living out of it.’

  ‘Congratulations. It must be great to be paid for doing something you enjoy.’

  ‘Yeah. I guess it is. You make a living from drawing?’

  She snorts. ‘Not even close. It’s a hobby. I’m a teacher. Well, will be in August. Primary school. I couldn’t take all those teenagers. Too much hassle.’

  He brings Jove onto the steep single lane track leading to the road. If he could turn around and head back in the other direction he’d happily do it. He’s not ready to say goodbye to Chloe yet. When they get to the gate of Dorothy’s house, Tate brings Jove over to the low wall so Chloe can dismount easier.

  ‘Thank you for bringing me home. I wouldn’t have fancied that walk up the hill. It’s a killer.’

  ‘The garage opens at half-eight. They’ll sort the car for you and drop it back to the house. They’re good like that.’

  ‘Thank you both.’

  She rubs Jove’s neck and he nuzzles against her. Not a bad sign when he likes someone. He’s usually a little temperamental with new people. ‘No problem. I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘Em, do you want to come in?’ Chloe asks. ‘I mean you could have a cup of tea. Do you drink tea? I know some people don’t. I just thought I’d ask.’

  ‘Can’t stand the stuff.’ The automatic response pops out before he can stop it. He’ll drink a gallon of fucking tea if he can talk to her a little longer.

  ‘Oh, okay.’

  ‘I’ll have a coffee though.’

  She smiles widely and nods. ‘Great. What about Jove?’

  ‘I’ve brought him here before. I’ll tie him up on the patio.’

  She unlocks the front door as Tate brings Jove around to the back. He ties him up and peers around Jove’s neck into the kitchen window. He smiles when he sees Chloe frantically tidying away dishes off the table and stuffing them into the cupboard over the fridge. She takes the basin of dirty dishes out of the sink and desperately looks around the kitchen before settling on hiding it in the cupboard under the sink. After brushing the stray crumbs from the table, she fills the kettle and examines a handful of mugs, dismissing half a dozen before settling on two.

  He’d heard so many stories about Chloe from Dorothy over the years but doesn’t remember meeting her before. He’s sure he’d remember that. She’s so different to women he’s dated recently. They’d been in the limelight like him. Always performing in front of the camera. Every hair in place. Make-up perfect. None of the relationships, if you could even call them that, lasted longer than a few weeks before he got bored and called it quits. There had been a lot of sex but not a lot of anything else.

  He never got to see the ‘real’ them, just the ‘on camera’ version. It’s nearly impossible to have anything remotely meaningful with someone like that. Then again, it’s not like he let them see the real him either. No one he’s dated has seen that side of him. The version of himself the public saw was the one they usually got.

  The woman stuffing dirty dishes into the cupboard is as real as they come. Her long dark, curly hair is windswept. He’s sure there’s some grass sticking out of it but he doesn’t want to risk embarrassing her by pointing it out. She didn’t have any make-up on or if she did it was minimal, but she didn’t need it. Her jeans and shirt were nothing special but put it all together and she got and held his attention in a way no one has for a long time. Maybe the fact she doesn’t have a clue who he is was adding to the attraction.

  Since he found fame, he’d lost a lot of his privacy. It was rare to meet someone around here who didn’t know him. Most of the locals had known him since he was a kid. They didn’t see him as a celebrity and that was part of the reason he loved it here so much - especially after his recent spectacular disaster.

  When he’d come across Chloe, he assumed she’d recognise him. It wasn’t him being a self-important prick. It just happened more often than not. When he realised she didn’t have a clue who he was it completely threw him. For even a few minutes, speaking to someone who didn’t know him, didn’t know what he’d done, it was... freeing is the only word he can think of. They had a normal chat too, which was something he’s missed the last few months.

  He doesn’t consider what he did lying. He told her his name but she didn’t react. It’s not like he was going to introduce himself and hand her a list of his albums and awards. She didn’t know him and maybe, right now, that’s a fucking god-send. It might just keep things uncomplicated, and that’s exactly what he wants.

  It’s absolutely the wrong time to be thinking about introducing someone to his disastrous life. Bringing someone into his current situation would be unfair. It would absolutely be a really bad decision to even think about seeing her again.

  He smiles as she tries to straighten her hair in the reflection
on the microwave door, completely missing the grass poking from the top.

  Then again, he’s not exactly renowned for always making the right decision. Recent events have proved that if nothing else.

  ∞

  Chloe looks around as Tate appears at the back door. The room seems to shrink when he steps inside. It wasn’t built with someone his height in mind. He washes his hands in the sink and opens the fridge to grab the milk. Clearly he’s been here quite a few times. Then again, knowing her gran, most of the town would have been up here at some stage. ‘I’ve only got instant.’

  Tate leans over her and reaches into the back of the top shelf. Whatever cologne he’s wearing is seriously intoxicating. He steps away from her and hands her a packet of real coffee. ‘She hides the good stuff. Don’t worry, she lets me have a cup every now and again.’

  ‘Milk and sugar?’

  ‘Yes and one.’

  Chloe prepares the drink and turns around to place the cups on the table. How she avoids pouring both drinks over her hands she has no idea. Tate has removed his sodden hoody and is sitting at the far end of the table. His black long-sleeved t-shirt is nothing spectacular. It’s what’s underneath, and clearly visible under the material, that causes the issues. What she felt through his sweatshirt while she was hanging on to him is just the tip of the iceberg. His arms and upper chest are pretty damn impressive. She places the coffee in front of him and sits at the far end of the table.

  He wraps his hand around the mug and stares into the drink as she stares at him again. His soaking hair is hiding his eyes so she extends her staring longer than is polite. He’s got multiple piercings up both ears along with quite a few tattoos up his neck, across his shoulder peeking out from under his t-shirt and on the back of the hand gripping his cup. There’s a narrow silver chain around his neck, again hidden under the top she has a building desire to remove. The hand gripping the cup has two thick silver rings - one on his thumb and one on his middle finger. No wedding band. As if that matters. They’re hardly on a date. More’s the pity.

  Up close she would absolutely peg him as a musician. She could easily see him on a stage playing a guitar. He has that look about him. A kind of rugged edge that calls to her which makes no sense. Yes, he’s gorgeous, but she usually goes for uncomplicated and clean-cut. Tate is firmly in the dark and brooding category.

  ‘What do you play?’

  He blinks and looks up at her, like he was in a world of his own. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You said you’re a musician. What do you play?’

  He brushes his hair back from his forehead then holds on to the cup again. ‘Guitar mainly, but I can play the piano and violin too.’

  ‘Wow. That’s impressive.’ The guitar was a given, but the other two take her by surprise. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look much like the violin type.’

  He laughs at that.’ Yeah, probably not. Reckon that’s why my mate dared me to learn how to play it.’

  ‘I’m taking it you won that bet?’

  ‘Oh I won. He’s still more than a little bitter about it.’

  ‘Have you been playing for long?’

  ‘As long as I can remember. I started guitar lessons when I was about ten I think. Piano was something I learnt in school and picked up again recently. The violin was a few years ago too. My family are like one of those clichéd Irish families you see on TV. Music is a big part of our gatherings.’

  ‘So you have a big family?’

  Tate nods. ‘Well, big extended family. I’ve got one brother and one sister. Too many cousins to count. You?’

  ‘Younger sister. She’s living in London and works at some fancy law firm. She’s PA to one of the partners but you’d swear she ran the place single handed. What do your brother and sister do?’ She knows she’s prying into his life, but she wants to keep him here as long as possible.

  He takes a drink of his coffee before he answers. ‘My older brother is a lawyer in Canada. He has his own firm.’

  ‘How did he end up in Canada?’

  ‘He went there with a few mates after college and fell in love with a girl and the country. He was only meant to be there for three months. He ended up getting a visa and moved there about a year later. He married Annabelle a few years later and they have two girls. My younger sister is working for a fashion designer in Dublin.’

  ‘Wow. So does she try to style you?’

  He snorts and just about manages to keep his coffee from spilling over the table. ‘She tried numerous times but I think she’s given up at this stage. I’m sticking to jeans and t-shirts. End of story. So, how long are you staying with Dorothy for?’

  The question is entirely innocent but that doesn’t stop the spark of excitement when she hears it. ‘School doesn’t start until late August so I’m free as a bird until then. I plan to look for an apartment nearer the school, but I can commute from here if need be. To be honest, I’m not in any hurry to leave the area. It has a lot going for it.’ Did she seriously just say that? Hopefully he thinks she’s talking about the scenery outside the window not the scenery inside. ‘What type of music do you play? I’m guessing it’s not classical.’

  He laughs again and scratches his jaw. ‘No. I guess the easiest description would be rock, but we mix it up a little.’

  ‘Do you do covers or your own songs?’

  ‘I write everything we play. I’m a bit of a control freak like that.’

  ‘So you sing too?’

  He nods. ‘Like I said, bit of a control freak.’

  ‘That’s impressive. You’ll have to let me know when you’re performing next. I’d love to come and see you.’

  He frowns briefly then smiles. Why does she get the feeling she just said something stupid, but has no idea what.

  ‘Do you have your own place here?’

  He shakes his head. ‘I’ve been staying with my folks for a few weeks.’ He pushes the chair back and gets to his feet. ‘Thanks for the coffee. I better leave you to it.’

  Before she can utter a word, he’s out the door. A few seconds later, she hears the side gate open and Jove passes by the front window.

  ‘Great to see you haven’t lost your touch,’ she mutters to herself as the sound of hooves fades away. She wanders into the hall and frowns at her reflection in the mirror. She looks a right state. She leans closer and curses under her breath. There’s actually some grass in her hair. Well that’s just perfect. Not only did she say something to scare him off but she also sat through the whole conversation with grass sticking out of her hair. If she sees him again it will be a bloody miracle.

  ∞

  Tate allows Jove to set the pace on the way back to his parents’ house. He didn’t want to leave Chloe, but he had no choice. As soon as she asked where he lived he had to get out of there. The next question was bound to be why he was back with his folks. It was only natural. He wasn’t ready to open that can of worms with her. Maybe not ever.

  He curses as his phone rings in his pocket. He pulls it out and checks the display. It’s his dad. He’s probably wondering where he is. He’s been gone longer than usual. Tate shivers as the rain continues to soak into his clothes. In such a rush to get out of Dorothy’s he’d left his hoody on the back of the chair.

  That’s not entirely a bad thing. Until he freaked out, he’d been enjoying Chloe’s company. He’d like to see her again, but that means he’d have to tell her exactly who he is. She’d probably figure it out herself by then anyway. All she needs to do is mention him to her gran and the gaps will be filled in for her.

  He guides Jove through the gate and grimaces when he sees his dad under the shelter outside the stable area. Looks like he’s not entirely happy. Tate leads Jove into his stall and unbuckles the saddle.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  Tate rests the saddle over top of the door and glances at Rick. ‘You timing me now? How long can I be gone for before you send out the search parties?’

  ‘Don’t
bite my head off. We’re bound to worry about you.’

  ‘Oh give me a fucking break. What the hell am I going to do to myself on the beach with a horse. I took him for a longer run. Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Drop the attitude, Tate.’ He looks at Tate’s wet clothes and shakes his head. ‘You go swimming again or is that just down to the rain?’

  ‘I went for a swim.’

  ‘In your clothes? You do realise they’ve invented these things called swimming trunks.’

  ‘I didn’t plan to go for a swim.’

  ‘You should get changed before you catch a cold. I’ll finish sorting Jove out for you.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake. I can manage!’ He takes a deep breath and turns back to Jove. Tate secures the lightweight rug over Jove and shuts the stable door a little harder than necessary.

  ‘Are you done or do you fancy going for a full-blown tantrum? You could always give the stable door a kick if you’re looking for a big finish.’

  Tate turns and faces his father. The two men stare each other down until Tate finally breaks. He laughs and scrubs his hand through his wet hair. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I get it, okay. I get you’re frustrated and the last thing you want is us looking over your shoulder but cut us a little slack. You scared the hell out of us, Tate. Don’t get your nose out of joint when we show a little concern.’

  ‘I know and I’m really not trying to be ungrateful, but... I feel like none of us are comfortable with me being here. You’re all walking on eggshells around me and I’m—’

  ‘Thirty-six and back living with your parents,’ his dad interrupts. ‘Like I said, I get it. All this being fussed over isn’t doing much for your image.’

  ‘Oh you mean the failed rock star, junkie, alcoholic image. Think I could do with losing that one.’

  Rick leans against the stable door and looks out at the beach beyond the hedge. ‘Sounds like it’s time you give them something new to talk about. Gregg mentioned you want to record the new album you were working on before you went on tour.’

  Tate nods but feels less enthusiastic about that than he does about staying with his parents for another few weeks. ‘Yeah. I’m thinking about it.’