A Light in the Dark

by Becky Doughty

  “Do you listen to our music a lot?” I asked him a half an hour later, throwing a teasing grin over my shoulder as we wrapped things up and started to unplug. I was giving it my best shot, having regrouped in the bathroom, and I was determined to not let my feelings interfere with this important decision. Although we had a lot of guys who came to our shows, not many of them actually bought our albums. Our biggest fans were girls—our music was raw and edgy, but we didn’t shy away from the rock ballads. I liked to say we were a mash-up of Joan Jett, Paramore, and Evanescence, and the female fans loved us. In fact, I’m pretty sure the guys in our audiences were there just as much for the female fans as for our music. So the thought of Sebastian sitting in his room, listening to our albums until he knew every chord, every fill, every key change, struck me as a little funny.

  “No.” He studied me for a moment, almost as though he was trying to figure out how to expound correctly, his eyes never wavering from mine. I finally looked away first, as usual, unable to hold his dark gaze any longer. I couldn’t tell if he was being rude, intimidating on purpose, or if he was just one of those really intense people who openly studied others around him, but it definitely felt different than it had in class. More… intimate somehow. Finally, he shrugged one shoulder. “But I’ve heard you play in class, and I’ve seen the band a time or two. Figured out your style.”

  A time or two, my Great Aunt Grace O’Malley. I narrowed my eyes in disbelief as I crouched down to lay my guitar in its case. It was a sweet red Gibson ES-335 that my family had pitched in to help me buy when I graduated from high school. I had a thing for red guitars and not only was my ES-335 a beauty, but she played like a dream. “A time or two? Really? You seem to know our songs a little better than that.” Besides, I’d seen him myself at several of our shows.

  “I’m a quick learner,” he replied from behind me.

  “I see,” I said slowly, my disbelief tainting my tone. Because I didn’t see. Or at least, I didn’t want to see. Either he was lying about how much he listened to us, or he and I had something more in common than just the love of rock and roll and a lousy semester class together. I was one of the few musicians I knew who could hear a song once, maybe twice, and play through it almost intuitively. The other two musicians I knew who could do so played piano. One was Bumblebee, and the other was a girl named Hermione something-or-other who’d been in the Classical Composition class I’d taken last year. Sure, it wasn’t all that uncommon in the great big world of music, but in my circle, I was an anomaly. I wasn’t sure how I felt about finding another one like me; it made me feel a little less… unique.

  I turned around to find Sebastian standing a few feet away, his guitar in one hand at his side, but this time, his eyes were glued to my Gibson nestled in its black velvet bed. I’d seen that look on guys’ faces before, the hungry eyes, the slack mouth, the drool, but usually the object of that kind of desire was a woman. “Chanticlaire,” I said, by way of introduction.

  He blinked and looked up at me. “Nice.”

  I gestured at the Strat he held at his side. “Good sound you got, there. I didn’t expect it to be so beefy.”

  “Replaced the single Humbucker with a double. Made all the difference in the world.” He held it up to show me the hardware under the strings. I raised my eyebrows in appreciation, but caught myself before I held out my hand for the guitar. We still hadn’t made anything official, and I didn’t like him enough to be fondling his instrument. I didn’t think he liked me enough to let me anyway, all double entendres aside. I dropped the lid of my case closed and buckled it.

  “Nice.” I used his word. He wanted cryptic, I’d give him cryptic. “Pack your stuff up.” I nodded at the window. Jon and Sly were already at the sound board with Tom and Corny, and I could see their conversation was pretty animated. They’d complimented Sebastian on their way out, so I knew they were on board with bringing him on, but I felt like I was missing out on something by not being there to hear the initial response. I reached over and rapped my knuckles on the glass pane between us, and signaled to Tom to turn on the sound so we could hear what they were saying.

  Tom rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his broad chest, making his biceps look even larger than they were, but he didn’t flip the intercom mic on. I scowled at him and turned to Sebastian. “We need to hurry or they’ll decide our fate for us.”

  Sebastian looked up at me, one eyebrow cocked. “We? Our fate?”

  Why did I say it that way? “I meant ours, collectively, as a whole band. Not just you and me.” I made a circling motion with my hand. “Whether you’re in or not affects all of us.”

  “I see.” Now it was his turn to use my words. He even used the same slightly mocking tone I had only a few moments ago. What a jerk. This wasn’t my idea. He was in my territory, not the other way around. All I had to do was say “no” and he’d be outta there.

  I decided not to wait for him and went ahead into the mixing booth, closing the solid wood door behind me with a little more vehemence than necessary. “I don’t know about this guy,” I grunted, eying him through the glass panel as he took his sweet time collecting his gear.

  “What do you mean, Tish? That was awesome!” Jon and Sly high-fived in agreement.

  Corny was doing some kind of update to the Pro-Tools program we used for recording, his eyes locked on the computer monitor, but he responded immediately. “Sounds like he’s been playing with us for years.”

  I snorted, hating that he’d voiced my impression almost exactly. I looked at Tom, hoping for some support from him. He was studying me in a way that made me uncomfortable. “What?”

  “He’s a good fit, that’s what. What’s the matter? This guy too good for you?”

  “You know, Tom, if you weren’t deserting us right at the crappiest time ever, we wouldn’t be in this situation. You’re not allowed to point fingers or make snide comments about anything, got it?” I crossed the small room and poked him in the chest. “This is your fault, you know that? You created this problem, not me, so don’t go making this about me being too picky. I don’t want another guitar player. I want you. Marauders is us.” I waved a hand around the room. “The five of us. It’s good—no, great—the way it is, and now you’re bailing on us and forcing us to take on some—some virtuoso to fill your shoes.” I was not going to cry. “I don’t want him. I want you,” I repeated.

  The room fell stone silent, and I knew, before I even turned around, that it wasn’t simply in response to my outburst.

  “I’ll see myself out,” Sebastian said from behind me, that slightly mocking tone still in his voice.

  I forced myself to face him, my cheeks hot with shame.

  “Thanks for your time.” His eyes held mine until I nodded, and then he crossed to the door that led out of the studio.

  Sly held it open for him. “See ya, man.”

  Just that simple salutation let me know that if Sebastian got away because of what I’d said, Sly would be ticked. And if Sly felt that way, I could be fairly certain the rest of the band felt the same.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  We heard almost a dozen more auditions over the weekend, but Sebastian had set a standard that no one could touch. Even so, I didn’t know if I could handle having him in the group. And that was if he was still interested after my little rant. I cringed with shame every time I thought of it.

  Tom wasn’t just the rhythm guitar player and male vocalist in Marauders. He was my co-leader and the voice of reason whenever I needed to be grounded. He was my friend, my confidante, and someone I could count on, no matter what.

  With Tom’s looming departure, more responsibility for band-related stuff had fallen on Corny’s very capable shoulders, so I wasn’t worried about the business end of things. Corny was a brilliant manager and he kept almost as cool a head as Tom did when circumstances got uneasy. As much as I liked Sly and Jon, they both had full lives of their own between family and school, so Corny was the obvious choice to fi
ll Tom’s shoes that way.

  Creatively speaking, though, I’d really hoped to find a guitar player who not only “got” the music we played, but who would be a good sounding board for me to bounce my ideas off, who would add to what I brought to the table. I would love to have someone co-write with me, but I wasn’t sure I was prepared to take on a musician who had the potential to outrank me, no less a guy who made me feel a little light-headed and wobbly-kneed just being around him.

  “I’m not a diva, Ani,” I insisted, knowing she’d get it, even though the rest of my band didn’t understand my reservations, both personal and professional. “It’s the old adage, ‘too many cooks in the kitchen,’ you know?” Juno walked on a leash beside Ani, a funny little Jack Russell terrier her dad had given her mom a little over a year ago. Ani was sure the dog was to help her parents ease into the empty nest years of their lives. I thought she was right.

  Ani was an only child, a surprise, just like I was, but born to parents who’d been told they couldn’t have children. Her mother, a woman with a lively, but ethereal quality about her, taught Ani to read early on. When she was about five or six years old, Ani discovered an exquisite literary coincidence during her reading of Peter Pan: her parents had the same names as Wendy Darling’s parents, George and Mary. She’d been calling them George Darling and Mary Darling ever since.

  With Ani having just graduated with her Bachelors of Science in Business last week and soon to be living on her own, everyone agreed that Juno had been a good idea. Although Mary was definitely Mom to the sweet dog, Ani and I took her for walks to the dog park a couple of blocks away every Monday night, rain or shine. I couldn’t recall the exact date or reason it had become tradition for us, but we’d been doing it since shortly after Juno arrived in the Tomlin home.

  “I agree. You and Tom made a great team because you each have individual strengths that work well together. I don’t think that’s diva-ish at all.” We stopped to let Juno snuffle around the roots of a tree. “I think you’re being wise to be cautious, in fact.”

  We continued on in silence, Juno leading the way with her nose. She knew exactly where we were going and she tugged at the leash in her excitement.

  “But it’s me you’re talking to, Tish. I know that’s not really the problem.”

  I felt a flush creep up my neck at her words. I could not stop thinking about Sebastian Jeffries. I woke up each morning, his songs in my head, his voice in my ears. I lay down at night to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, I could see him, perched on that stool, watching me. All my waking hours, no matter what I did to distract myself, my mind kept drifting back to the studio and all the different musicians who’d played for us, inevitably ending up on Sebastian, bent over his Strat, singing his song about a wild girl named Trouble.

  “And you’re blushing.” Ani bumped me with her shoulder. I bumped her just a little harder. She laughed out loud and pulled up short, making Juno scrabble to a stop, too. “So? Tell me! What happened?”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” I denied, but I knew my flushed skin would betray me. I was naturally glow-in-the-dark pale, and when I got embarrassed, cried, got ticked, or worked out, sang, danced, got emotional in any way, in fact, my cheeks reddened, and my chest and neck got blotchy.

  “Did he tell you why he was such a toad in class all semester? I mean, this is kind of like best case scenario of a second chance, if you ask me.”

  “Or a third chance, but who’s counting? Really, Ani? Are you serious?”

  “It’s fairly obvious that he wants to make amends—the guy auditioned to play in your band, T-Bird—and you’re going to have his undivided attention on a regular basis, so you can ask him what his problem was whenever you want. You’re in control of the whole situation, right down to whether or not you’ll let him in the band in the first place.” She stood right in front of me, hands on her hips, ignoring Juno’s frantic tugs. “Which is exactly what you’re going to do, right? Let him in?”

  I tried to maneuver around her but she grabbed my arm and stopped me. “Oh no. We’re not taking another step until you tell me you’re letting him in.”

  I let my head fall back and closed my eyes against the brilliance of the late afternoon sunshine. If it was just his skills being assessed, he’d be in. But whatever had been birthed—or killed—in class had morphed into another creature altogether, and I didn’t for one moment believe I would be in control of things if I gave the go-ahead for Mr. Jeffries to be a part of Marauders. But how to explain that to my eager friend?

  Ani loved Twilight to this day; the books, the movies, and everything in between. She still proudly wore her Team Edward shirt—again, that whole “older guy” thing. “He reminds me of Edward Cullen, the Robert Pattinson version.” I waved a hand around my eyes. “The way he looks at me, Ani. It’s different now. It’s like he wants to have me for dinner. And I don’t mean as his date, either. I mean, as his dinner.”

  “Whoa.” She turned around and began walking again, much to Juno’s relief, and I fell in stride beside her. Ani’s legs were long, and although she usually walked slower to accommodate me, when she was deep in thought, she forgot that I was half a foot shorter than she was.

  “Slow down,” I laughed, curious, and at the same time a little frightened, about what was brewing in her head. “It’s too hot to speed walk. And poor Juno is starting to pant.”

  She turned and walked backwards so she could look at me. “Okay. So I still don’t get why this is a problem. Look how it panned out for Bella Swan. Sebastian obviously likes you and has hunted you down for another chance with you. I mean, he’s lowered himself to auditioning for your band just to get close to you.”

  “Lowered himself? Thanks.”

  “You know what I mean. You’re the one who told me he’s so amazing. And you’re missing my point anyway.”

  I grabbed her to keep her from tripping on a raised section of the sidewalk. Ani was notoriously accident-prone. “Not sure the whole walking-backwards thing is a good idea, girl.” She was right, though. Sebastian was admittedly better than anyone in my band, including me, but I didn’t want to have to acknowledge it any more than necessary.

  She turned around and slowed to keep step beside me instead. “So what are you afraid of? It sounds kind of exciting to me. Is it Tom? Does he have a problem with Sebastian?” I could see she wasn’t being flippant. Her question was dead serious.

  I shrugged. “Not really. I mean, Tom thinks Sebastian is the best pick just as much as the other guys do. And because Sebastian has talked to Corny several times before, they all feel like they kind of know him. Like he’s not a total stranger.”

  “But?” she prompted.

  I hopped over a really bad crack in the sidewalk, getting Juno all excited. She was sure we were going to take off running. Psych. “You know about my no-dating pact with Tom, right?” I said to Ani.

  “Not my favorite thing about your relationship, but yeah.”

  “Well, it’s been good for us,” I said defensively. “Keeps things straight. Simple.” I glanced over at her, squinting into the late afternoon sunlight that haloed her. “So, if I agree to Sebastian being in the band, the wise thing to do would be to make the same pact with him. Because not only do I have a hard time figuring out how I feel about him, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out how he feels about me.”

  “You barely know the guy. Give it time.” She wasn’t trying to convince me to do anything against my will. It was her way of encouraging me to do what she thought I wanted to do.

  “I’ve known him for more than five months now, Ani,” I huffed. “You and Paulo knew how you felt about each other within two weeks.”

  Ani just laughed at my ridiculous comparison. “Sitting two rows ahead of him in class for a semester doesn’t constitute knowing him. Especially since the two of you exchanged the total sum of five sentences, at best. Paulo and I spent more time together in two days, trying to get to know each other, than you and
Sebastian after a whole semester together.”

  I conceded with silence, knowing it had been a long shot anyway. “He’s just nothing like Tom. With Tom, I know exactly where I stand. I know exactly how he feels about me. I know, well, pretty much exactly how I feel about him. But Sebastian? I’m completely out of the loop with him. One minute he looks like he wants to devour me, but the next, there’s something else in his eyes, like I’m beneath him. Like he thinks I’m some kind of a—a joke.” I sighed deeply, hating the emotions that admission stirred up in me. “I don’t need someone in the band who makes me feel stupid, Ani.”

  “No.” She slipped her arm through the crook of mine. “You do not need that. If he makes you feel stupid, then don’t let him in the group.” She paused just a moment, and then said, “But I think that may be part of the problem, T-bird. Not only are you uncertain about Sebastian, but I think you’re also trying to replace Tom with another Tom. And we both know there’s only one Tom in this world.”

  I sighed deeply, knowing she was right on both counts. “Right. And honestly,” I added, “I was actually kind of thrilled to see Sebastian again, and as much as I’m loathe to admit it, there’s something about him that just makes me all hot and bothered, you know? And I think it might be fun to see where things go between us.” I was a late bloomer in the boyfriend department, but not because I didn’t date. I liked looking, I liked considering, I liked dinner and a movie, and I was all in for an epic make-out session now and then. But I just didn’t have time to invest in a full-time boyfriend, not with school and the band and my busy family consuming so much of my time. And I had Tom to do guy-girl stuff with. “But why does it have to be this way? All entangled in the band stuff? Why couldn’t he just pursue me instead of me and my band? If he’s pursuing me at all, that is. Why can’t I keep Tom in the band and have Sebastian on the side?”

  “Titia Danielle Ransome, you little slut.”