The Duet

by R.S. Grey

  “He’s not sorry, because I’m awesome!” I yelled right before the door closed behind us.

  “That doesn’t even make sense, Brooklyn,” Derek laughed.

  He opened the passenger door for me because Derek was a gentlemen. A cowboy gentlemen with big muscles and a nice smile. I couldn’t remember why I didn’t go for Derek. Probably because he wasn’t Jason. Jason was everything. Derek was… I felt sick.

  I slept most of the way home but stirred awake when he turned onto the uneven gravel drive. Derek moved to carry me to the house, but I guffawed (yes, guffawed) and hopped out of the truck by myself. I would have promptly eaten shit had Derek not been there to steady me. The porch light flipped on, and a second later, I heard the sound of the dead bolt turning and the front door opening.

  There, silhouetted in the darkness, stood Jason. His arms were crossed and his dark eyebrows were tugged together.

  “Uh oh, Mr. GrumpyGus looks mad,” I said, trying to catch my footing on the loose gravel. Why did the ground keep shifting out from underneath me?

  Derek didn’t think that was funny, and neither did Jason. Tough crowd.

  “She had a few Coronas. I didn’t realize what a lightweight she was,” Derek explained, as if he was trying to defend his actions.

  I held up my hands. “No. No. I’m an independent woman, like Ms. Beyoncé. I did this to myself. So there’s no one to blame here except Beyoncé,” I said as I brushed past Jason and entered the house. I tried to head up the stairs but they seemed to never end, so I decided to sit down halfway to the top and catch my breath.

  “Phew. When did you add these extra steps to the house? We were only gone for like two hours.” I laid back so my head rested on the landing in the center of the stairs. I could just sleep here.

  “Should I?” Derek started to ask, but Jason cut him off.

  “I got it. Night Derek.”

  “Captain’s orders, Derek!” I said, thinking my jokes were dead on. Seriously Derek should have left me at the bar so I could have performed stand-up for everyone. Paulo’s date would have loved that.

  I felt a presence walk past me on the stairs, but I didn’t open my eyes to confirm the hunch.

  “Princess, you just going to lay there the whole night?” Jason asked.

  His voice was dark and deep, but there was something new in it: annoyance. Surprise, surprise. Jason hated me again. What’s new?

  “I’m thinking about it,” I answered. “You just go on up and I’ll take the first watch for the night.”

  I had no clue what I was talking about, but I figured that if I sounded like I knew what I was doing, he’d leave me alone.

  The next thing I knew, there were two hands gripping my biceps and forcing me to sit up. Then my body was tossed over his shoulder like a sack of sugar.

  I wasn’t sure if sugar came in sacks that were my size, but if they did, Dotty would have loved it. He carried me up the stairs and my head bobbed back and forth right in front of his butt. He was wearing flannel pajama pants, but I could still see the outline of his derrière perfectly. It looked so appetizing.

  “Did you just bite my butt?” he asked.

  I had.

  I wanted to know what it tasted like.

  “No. Shh, I’m trying to sleep.”

  Then I proceeded to fake snore. (Like I said, comedy gold.)

  Once we were in my room, Jason kicked my door closed and set me back down on my feet. Then, without bothering to ask, he pulled my blouse over the top of my head and unbuckled my pants. There was no romance in his movements so I knew we weren’t about to have sex, but I still wanted out of my clothes anyway. They smelled like the bar, and I wanted to smell good so that Jason would like me.

  Once I was standing there in my panties and bra, Jason came out of my closet holding up an oversized “New Kids On The Block” t-shirt and helped me put it on.

  I don’t remember if he helped me brush my teeth or wash my face, but I do remember the feeling of falling face first onto my bed and sinking into the soft blankets.

  “I never want to leave this place,” I whispered right before slipping into a deep, drunk slumber.

  …

  When I woke up at 4:00 A.M. with a splitting headache and the driest mouth known to man, I rolled over in the darkness and tried to sit up. Before I could get far, I saw the figure sitting in the corner of my room. Jason. He was on the chair next to the closet that was I usually reserved for dirty clothes. His elbow was propped up on the chair’s arm and his head was resting in his palm. It had to have been the worst sleeping position, but I supposed it had afforded him a good view of me sleeping in bed.

  His hair was sticking up in every direction and he was snoring softly, but that only made the scene more endearing.

  I laid there watching him for a few minutes, wondering why he hadn’t joined me in the bed or gone back to his room once I’d fallen asleep.

  When I woke up again later that morning, he was gone.

  …

  Jason was quiet when I stepped into his room the next day so that we could continue writing. I took a deep breath in the center of the doorway, but he didn’t look up when I strolled in. He was strumming his guitar with his head down. His guitar pick was wedged between his lips as he concentrated on his instrument.

  I stood back, watching him. The chords he was playing weren’t part of our song. I’d never heard the harmony before. It had a gentle, smooth sound, but the moment he noticed me standing there, he clapped his hand down on the sound hole and pulled the pick from his mouth.

  “Morning,” he said. His tone was as distant as it’d ever been.

  “Hi,” I spoke softly before taking a sip of my tea. I’d skipped the coffee, opting to ease my vocal chords back into action with a little honey and jasmine blend. “How’d you sleep?”

  He shrugged, his eyes focused on his guitar. “Not great. You?”

  I smiled at the memory of him in my armchair. “Okay.”

  He set his guitar down on the stand beside the couch and then folded his hands between his legs. “Have fun last night?”

  There it was.

  The furrowed brow, the slight frown.

  He was pissed that I’d gone out with Derek.

  But that wasn’t part of our rules. We were the king and queen of living in the present. We didn’t talk about the past and we didn’t talk about the future. For the last week, Jason and I lived like someone had told us that if we wanted to write the next big hit, we had to have sex everywhere. All the time. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore when I felt him join me in my bed or when I walked into his bathroom in the morning. I’d wait patiently for him to finish brushing his teeth so that I could tear his clothes off. Pretty much every surface of the upstairs needed to be disinfected or blown up. We were getting a little ridiculous, but let me explain something. The way Jason sings, that soulful, deep, crooning — that’s how he had sex. Every time we fell into bed together it felt like he was making love to me, digging the heels of his hands into mine, twining our legs together, teasing every surface of my body until I was sure I’d slipped into a coma.

  But then when it finished, we were finished. It felt as if someone flipped a light switch as soon as the sex was over. Either he’d gather his clothes and leave, or I did. We never stayed because it wasn’t part of our silent set-up. We were treasure hunters, thrill-seekers, adrenaline junkies.

  So when he asked me that question, it was the first time I was forced to acknowledge what we were doing beyond the moment we were actually doing it in.

  “Yes. Derek took me out for drinks,” I answered hesitantly.

  He chewed on his bottom lip and stared out through his massive bedroom window. The bottom panel was pushed up and I could feel the breeze blowing through. We sat there in silence for a few seconds and then he nodded.

  “Right, let’s get started,” he said, his gaze hovering somewhere far off in the distance.

  And that was that. Whatever confusion, ange
r, or doubt he’d been feeling moments before were completely gone. When he glanced up at me, his brown eyes weren’t clouded over. Rather, they were crystal clear.

  Which meant we were back at square one.

  Except maybe I wasn’t quite as content with square one as I’d been five minutes earlier.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Saturday morning, two weeks after I’d first arrived in Montana, Cammie was scheduled to visit and I couldn’t contain my excitement. I’d paired my red boots with cut-off shorts and a white blouse, and I’d even added some matching red lipstick. The outfit, plus the fact that I didn’t bother with my hair in Montana, made me look like a full-on country singer. My dark blonde curls were going every which way as I stood outside of the airport, but I didn’t care. Snap away, paparazzi.

  “If you try and step closer again, I’m calling airport security,” Hank warned the group of photographers positioned on the other side of the street. Like a flock of scared pigeons, they scooted back a couple of feet.

  I gave him a small smile, but he of course, just nodded curtly as if to say “it’s part of the job, ma’am.” Seriously, someday I was going to set Hank up with a woman who loved the strong, silent type. I laughed just thinking of how terribly awkward their dinner conversations would be.

  The airport’s automatic doors swooshed open as another round of travelers dispersed in various directions. Some of them lined up for the taxis; some ran into the arms of loved ones. I was watching as one couple reunited— the man was clad in Army camo and the girl was crying. Big, heartfelt tears ran down her cheeks. I could have written a song about that exact moment. A soldier’s reunion with his loved ones was always a sight to behold.

  “Hello! Earth to Brooklyn!” a voice snapped in front of me.

  When I pulled my gaze away from the couple, I found my sister standing in front of me, looking like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. She had on white converse, skinny jeans, and an off-the-shoulder t-shirt that had a brand’s logo on it. Of course, I didn’t recognize it because at twenty-seven, I was already an old fart compared to her. She’d pulled her long dark brown hair up into a loose bun and her smile practically touched the corners of her light brown eyes.

  “Cammie!” I squealed jumping forward to wrap my arms around her.

  After spinning her in a circle nearly fifty times, she finally protested.

  “Oh my God, I’m going to puke all over your cowboy boots!”

  “NO!” I yelled, dropping her and stepping back. No one touches the red cowboy boots.

  “I’m so excited!” she said, glancing around at the slices of Montana visible from the airport entrance. Two weeks without my sister was a lot harder than I’d thought it would be. Even though we talked on the phone and texted every day, I’d still missed her.

  “Ladies, what do you have planned in Montana?” one of the paparazzi yelled.

  Hank practically snarled at the man. Usually, whenever one of them spoke up, the rest followed suit, so Hank stepped forward and ushered Cammie and I to the town car waiting for us on the curb. Once the doors were closed and the tinted windows were rolled up, I sat back in the seat and just took Cammie in.

  After our parents passed away, it would have been easy to slip into a parent role for Cammie, but I’d always tried to maintain our relationship as sisters. Seeing her in the car, looking as grown-up as ever (because well, she was) I had a “proud parent moment” even though I’d probably done nothing to contribute to her success.

  Cammie was intelligent and driven. She’d always pushed herself to excel at anything she did and I admired that about her.

  “Are you going to stare at me like that the entire drive over? Because if so, I’m pulling out my iPad and ignoring you,” she threatened with a small smile.

  I shook my head and let out a deep breath, trying to push past the emotions roiling up inside of me. Cammie needed me to be normal, not a pile of blubbering craziness.

  “What do you feel like doing when we get to Big Timber?” I asked, pulling out my cell phone. There were lots of emails and messages from industry people, but of course, nothing from Jason. I’d been with him the night before, when we’d “tested out” the patio furniture and attempted to be as quiet as possible. (It’d worked out quite terribly considering how painful wicker is on bare skin. Let’s just say wicker-imprints on your ass last longer than you’d think they would.) He hadn’t been awake when I’d left to get Cammie, and for all I knew he didn’t even remember she was coming to visit for the weekend.

  “Hmm, do they have a sushi place? I’m craving some spicy tuna,” she answered.

  I gave her a pointed stare. “You do realize how far away we are from the ocean, right?”

  Cammie smiled. “Alright fine. I’ll just take a triple scoop of thick ‘n’ hearty Montana cowboy, please.”

  Derek’s easy grin flashed in my mind and then I thought about the fact that Cammie and him were closer in age than he and I were. Greeeatttt.

  “There actually is a guy who works for Jason. I don’t really know what all he does. I think he helps with the animals and stuff.”

  “Huh,” Cammie smirked. “I guess Jason has been keeping you busy.”

  My eyes widened in fear. I hadn’t told her about my true arrangement with Jason. It wasn’t a conscious decision; I’d just decided to keep the situation closer to my heart. Maybe it was because I didn’t know what was going on myself, or maybe it was because I didn’t care to hear her judgment. Either way, it’d been my little secret.

  My silence spurred her to continue. “You know, with song writing and stuff,” she clarified, casting me a suspicious glance.

  “Oh, yeah. That. We’ve been writing a lot. I think we’ll be done with our song in a few days.”

  Cammie clapped. “That’s perfect! That means you can come home early. LA sucks without you. I’ve been hanging out with people in my studio and the only thing they ever want to talk about is architecture. If I have to hear one more debate on modernism versus classicism, I’ll stab someone with a Doric column.” She made a pretend barfing sound and I laughed.

  “Well, I guarantee, if you even say the word ‘Doric’ again while in my presence, I will fall asleep instantly.”

  Cammie smiled. “Perfect.”

  “Are you all done with your projects?”

  She nodded and let her head fall back on the headrest. “I presented two days ago, cleared out my studio yesterday, and now I’m here. I’m finally done!”

  “So the only thing left is your graduation next weekend?” I asked, trying to get my schedule worked out in my brain.

  “Yes, and then I have to start job hunting.”

  I opened my mouth to ask her about Grayson, but then stopped myself. I’d done enough with that situation. If she didn’t want to call him and he didn’t want to call her, there was nothing more I could do. Cammie would find her own career path.

  The rest of the car ride back to Big Timber, we planned out everything we’d do over the weekend. Most of it involved stuffing our faces and wearing pajamas, but I knew we’d find some kind of trouble to get into before the weekend was done.

  …

  We arrived at Jason’s ranch right around lunchtime, but LuAnne was the only person who greeted us at the door.

  “Oh my gosh! You two could be twins if not for the hair and the eyes. Like delicate little snowflakes from the same cloud, you two are,” she said with her hands clasped in front of her mouth. Oh, LuAnne. Her gaze darted back and forth between the two us for nearly a minute before she realized she was blocking our path into the house. “Oh! Come in, come in. I just set out some sandwich stuff on the kitchen table.”

  She ushered us inside and I watched Cammie take in the ranch.

  “This is really cool. I think I was expecting more of a cabin in the woods or something,” she said, probably admiring the architecture much more than I had.

  The two of us made our way into the kitchen and sat down at the table with LuAnne. A
s we devoured her chicken-salad sandwiches, she explained that the boys had run into town to grab some lumber to repair the side of the barn. Just thinking about Jason and lumber made me cross and re-cross my legs. Why was it so hot imaging a man around wood?

  “Did you hear me, Brook?” Cammie asked pinching the back of my arm.

  I flinched back and yelped.

  “Jeez, that hurts!”

  “Sorry, LuAnne was asking if you wanted to show me the stables and you were staring off into lala land.”

  I wasn’t in lala land. I was in Jason Land.

  “Sure, let me finish this sandwich and we’ll go.”

  In reality, I needed to cool my jets and stop imagining Jason in compromising positions or my knees would give out when I stood up.

  The air was warming up when we finally stepped out to inspect the barn and stables. I smiled down at my red boots and the matching pair that I’d gifted Cammie after lunch. I knew she wouldn’t have any footwear that was appropriate for tromping around a barn, so I’d picked her up a pair from Paulo earlier in the week.

  “I feel like a northwestern version of Dorothy,” she said, tapping the heels of her boots together as if she were wearing ruby slippers.

  I shook my head and tugged her toward the path that led around the side of the house. Since I wasn’t sure where the guys were doing repairs on the barn, I decided to skip over it and show her the stable first. Dotty would be eager to sniff out the sugar cubes in our pockets anyway.

  “How many horses do they have here?” Cammie asked as I bent forward to pull open the heavy door.

  “Five. Two mares and three geldings. Dotty is the first one on the right,” I said, pointing her out once we stepped inside. She’d been lying on the hay, but the moment she saw us step inside, she pressed up onto her hooves and came over to greet us with a soft rumble from her nostrils.

  “She’s so pretty! I want to give her all the sugar cubes,” Cammie said, unfolding her hand toward the horse. In three seconds flat, all of her sugar cubes were gone.