A Light in the Dark

by Becky Doughty

  “Absolutely! I wondered if you’d need them tonight.” As another thought hit me, I hurried on so I wouldn’t lose my nerve. “Do you want to stay and play for a bit? The studio is empty so we could jam together or you could even have it to yourself if you’d prefer.”

  This time, the silence stretched on longer than I could hold my breath. Finally, he responded.

  “I think I’ll just come pick up my stuff, if that’s okay….” He let the words trail off.

  “Sounds good,” I assured him, trying not to let the disappointment I felt seep into my words. “Do you want me to pack your gear up for you? Have it ready and waiting?” I still hadn’t touched Alejandro and my fingers were suddenly itching to have a go at it.

  “That’s all right. I can do it when I get there.” He took a quick breath like he wanted to say something else. I waited, sure there was more.

  There was. He rushed on. “Is Jordon home? Maybe I can talk to him when I come by.”

  “Oh.” Poor guy probably wanted to get that meeting over with as soon as possible. “No. He’s out tonight. But maybe he’ll be home tomorrow when you come.”

  “Sure. Okay. Then I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Mom and Ani wore matching anticipatory grins. I rolled my eyes and told them he was coming over so they could ogle him a little more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Ani fell backwards onto my bed after Sebastian left with his Strat, crossing her arms dreamily over her chest. “That guy is really, really beautiful. There’s not a better word. Those eyes!” She pushed up onto her elbows and smiled at me. “How can you even talk to him without drooling? And he must be as tall as Paulo, because even I have to look up to him!”

  I just grinned as Ani gushed. She always accused me of using too many exclamation points, but ever since she’d met Paulo, she’d picked up the habit, too. I knew she’d understand my attraction to Sebastian once she got to know him, even though she and I were as different as night and day, especially when it came to guys. Ani liked things more, well, traditional, so to speak. She tended to lean toward mature and settled. Boring old guys, in my book. And it had gotten her in trouble last year when she’d fallen for Professor Franklin. Granted, he’d seemed perfect for a girl who preferred men over boys. He was attentive and charming, wooing her with pretty words and promises of forever. But he was just that—too perfect. And when we’d run into him and his too-perfect family at a restaurant that was no longer one of our favorite fancy girls-night-out spots, his true colors had shown bright and clear. Ani had run, tail tucked between her legs, to Italy to lick her wounds. There, she’d met Paulo Durante, a guy her own age, but definitely an old soul in a rather delicious young body.

  Paulo had gently and determinedly picked up the pieces of Ani’s battered and reluctant heart, and over the last nine months, he’d put them back together. And he’d somehow managed to do it from a thousand miles away in Portland. He’d come down for Thanksgiving last year, and then again right after Christmas, so he was here to see in the new year with her. She’d gone to Portland during Spring Break and had come home happier than I could ever remember seeing her. I knew it was only a matter of time before she was wearing Paulo’s ring. And just like she’d told my father, Paulo would do it right; he’d ask Ani’s father for permission first. I also knew George would grant it, even though it would kill him and Mary if Paulo whisked their only child off to Italy for extended periods of time.

  “I can’t wait to hear you two play together.” She’d left today before Tom, Sebastian, and I had really gotten going. “Can I come over and do the groupie thing tomorrow night? I promise not to bug you.” She didn’t have to ask. She and Gina competed for the title of Marauders #1 Fan. Ani came to every show she possibly could, and not just because she was my best friend. She really loved our music, played nice with everyone in the band, even Jon who had a long-term, unrequited crush on her, and she never asked to join the band. Ever.

  “Of course. But if you wiggle your eyebrows or make any lewd remarks, I’ll kick you out.”

  “I’ll be good, I promise,” she said, rolling onto her side and propping her head on one hand. “Something about the way he looks at you makes me—” She waved her free hand around, trying to come up with the right word. “I don’t know. Swoony. Lightheaded for you. Makes me miss Paulo. Badly.”

  “I know, right? I get a little tongue-tied and short of breath around him, even after five months of outright rejection vibes. I swear there’s something wrong with me. I’m not usually such a nitwit when it comes to guys.” I toyed with a red jasper pendant that hung from a long silver chain around my neck, a gift from Ani years ago. It was one of those pieces that went with just about everything I wore, not too girlie, not too bulky, and the chain was long enough I could just slip it over my head without having to mess with the clasp. Or tuck it inside my shirt if it got in the way. I rarely took it off.

  “Poor Tom,” she sighed. We’d spent the last hour rehashing the day, including my desperate move on Tom. “He’s loved you for so long now.”

  I pressed my lips together and crossed my legs beneath me. I sat on the floor, leaning against my dresser, facing her where she was sprawled on my bed. “I know. I know, Ani. And I feel terrible that I don’t—can’t—feel the same thing for him. But I’d be lying to us both if I made him any promises.”

  “I know, too,” she assured me, echoing my words. “But still, you two always made such a great team. And the gorgeous babies you’d have—”

  “Ani, cut it out. I already feel guilty enough.” I didn’t want to think about Tom leaving, about how easy it would be for me to make him stay.

  Ani chewed on her lip for a moment, and then said, “Maybe it’s good he’s leaving, T-Bird. I mean, once he’s gone, you’ll find out exactly how you feel about him. Right now, he’s here all the time, at your beck and call. You’ve said it yourself, you can’t imagine not having him around. Well, maybe that’s what’s keeping you confused.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Or maybe once he’s gone, he’ll realize what he feels for you isn’t exactly what he thinks it is, either. It may be that he needs to get away from you to break whatever this hold is you have on him.”

  “Get away from me? Gee, thanks.” I reached up behind me and snatched my hairbrush off the dresser, prepared to launch it at her. She grabbed my pillow and covered her head protectively, a motion that made me pause, my earlier conversation with Tom replaying in my mind. Maybe it wasn’t just the guys I was too physical with. I lowered my arm and used the brush on my hair instead. “I know I love him, Ani. I really do. But other than today’s frenzied saliva—and blood—swap,” I reached up and gently prodded my tender lip, “I just don’t get all giddy with him. He’s comfortable and safe and wonderful and honest and dependable and fun, and…” My voice trailed off. He sounded perfect, even to my own ears.

  “And perfect in every way. Except that you aren’t in love with him.” Ani sat up and said again, “I get it. I really do.”

  I knew she did, too. While she’d been in Italy, trying to outrun her broken heart, she’d been courted by a man who was perfect in just about every way, too. Cosimo Lazzaro, the world’s most beautiful bachelor, a plastic surgeon in a private practice with his own generations old villa and olive grove in Tuscany, and a Maserati to boot. He’d carried her off to his castle in the sky—or rather, his estate in the Italian countryside—but she’d been swept off her feet by Paulo, a college kid with a heart as full as his wallet was empty.

  Granted, Cosimo hadn’t been in love with Ani, not like I knew Tom was with me. But it didn’t change the fact that reason seemed to have no bearing on matters of the heart.

  “There’s something about this Sebastian guy, though. Methinks you might just be getting more than a new guitar player, you know.” Ani sighed again, rather dramatically, but I heard a note of resignation in it, and I knew it was for Tom.

  “I do, too,” I whispered, because even though it was Ani, and I could tell
her anything, I was almost afraid to say it out loud, for fear I might jinx things.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Sunday night, Sebastian was a few minutes early. He seemed a little nervous when I let him in, but Mom and Dad greeted him warmly and that seemed to set him at ease some. Jordan was, in fact, home, I informed Sebastian, and showed him out to the back patio where my brother was constructing some kind of pulley device for a stage prop.

  “Just come into the studio when you’re ready,” I said. “I’m heading in there now.”

  Ani was already in the mixing room with a bottle of glass cleaner and a roll of paper towels. If it wasn’t for her, the studio would be a pig sty, I was certain. She often cleaned and organized while she listened to us rehearse, but tonight, I knew she planned to focus on my interaction with Sebastian.

  “Poor Tom,” she muttered as I walked in. She was staring at one of the hundreds of pictures on our memories wall, a collage of photos, fliers, ticket stubs, receipts, and all kinds of other weird stuff that meant something to at least someone in the band. The photo she focused on was a band shot she’d taken of us one afternoon at the beach. I was in a pair of cut-off Daisy Dukes and a bright red bikini top, sitting on Tom’s shoulders. High above my head I held a sign that read, “THE EAGLE HAS LEFT THE BUILDING.” Sly, wearing an over-sized Bigfoot hand, and Jon in a horse head mask dueled with light sabers behind us, and Corny was laid out on a surfboard, his combed out afro drifting slightly in the ocean breeze. He wore nothing but a white Speedo and a white tuxedo jacket with tails, the outfit stark and slightly obscene against his dark chocolate skin. It was such a strange and wonderful picture, taken on a strange and wonderful day. We’d just played our first big-venue club in Hollywood the night before—one that wasn’t a pay-to-play house—and felt like we’d been to the moon and back.

  “You need to stop saying that, Ani,” I reprimanded her. “Not only does it make me feel like crap, but I have a feeling Tom wouldn’t like it either. I don’t think he’d appreciate you feeling sorry for him.”

  Ani cocked her head at me. “You’re right. He’s actually being extremely noble and honorable. I should be proud of him.” Then she hugged me tightly. “And I’m proud of you, too, Tish. I know you could have manipulated him into staying. You’re doing the right thing, too, and I can see it’s hard for you both.”

  A few minutes later, the other band members started showing up. Tom arrived first, but after poking his head in to greet us, he disappeared to find Jordan. I didn’t bother giving him a heads up that he’d find Sebastian, too. He’d figure it out soon enough. And if Tom needed to see Jordan alone, Sebastian knew the way to the studio.

  Jon and Corny showed up a few minutes before seven, riding together in Jon’s restored 1980 Camaro. Sly was late, which didn’t happen often, but he’d called to warn us, so we got started without him, going over the details of the upcoming gig. By the time we were all plugged in and tuned up, Sly showed up, appropriately apologetic, but brimming with tales of how entertaining, if time-consuming, his little boy was. He was a good daddy, but not necessarily husband material, as far as I could tell. Sly seemed perfectly content to live at home with his parents, raising his son in the same bedroom Sly had grown up in, working odd jobs as they came, but not very motivated to do a whole lot more with his life. I understood. Marauders was my hope for the future, and when—not if—we really took off, Sly would benefit, too.

  Before we got started, Tom informed everyone else of his decision to bow out after this Friday, expressing his complete confidence in Sebastian’s ability to step up and in the rest of us to be able to make it happen. No one seemed to balk at the decision, which either spoke volumes for their confidence in Sebastian or everyone was too upset to say anything. But the practice went really well and when we got back to it after a rabid attack on an apple crumb pie Mom had left on the counter for us, Tom sat in the mixing room with Ani, and we worked through another couple of hours with Sebastian playing and singing Tom’s parts.

  It was after eleven when we shut things down to talk over the rehearsal plan for the rest of the week. Ani, who had kept the coffee fresh all night for us, had conked out on the sofa in the mixing room sometime during the last hour. We let her sleep and headed into the kitchen to talk.

  The guys were thoroughly impressed with Sebastian’s skill and versatility. He played and sang just about everything we threw at him without a hitch. Even the little that was new to him, he picked up quickly just by listening and paying attention. There was a lot of back slapping and hand shaking when it was all over. Tom emailed each of us a recording he’d made of the night’s practice and we all agreed to listen for what we needed to work on.

  Jon, Corny, and Sly took off shortly after, and Tom offered to walk Ani across the street. She could have spent the night, but she said Paulo was calling early in the morning and she didn’t want to wake me up with her gushing. I agreed whole-heartedly.

  Suddenly, Sebastian and I were alone in the kitchen, sitting across from each other at the island. Tom would be back before long, but at the moment, my parents were in bed, Jordan had either gone out again or was in bed as well, and all around us was a quiet air of hushed anticipation.

  “I should go,” he began, but he didn’t get up.

  “You don’t have to leave right away.” Man, I hoped that didn’t sound as desperate to him as it did me. “I mean, if you’re tired, of course. I just get so amped up after rehearsals, it takes me a little while to decompress.”

  Sebastian smiled at me, a slow upward curl of the corners of his mouth. “I know what you mean. This whole thing has been a first for me.” He dropped his gaze to the coffee cup he held between his hands, his thumbs rubbing over the handle repeatedly.

  “A first?”

  “Never played with a band before Marauders.” As I watched him, his cheeks flushed a little.

  “Really? Have you played with other musicians?” I was so curious about his musical history, about his dreams for the future. He didn’t respond right away and I jumped in again. “I mean, for your first time playing with a band, you’re really amazing. Especially trying to fill the shoes of someone else. You’ve slipped into Marauders’ groove almost seamlessly, and I’m impressed. We’re all impressed. You, Sebastian Jeffries, are brilliant.” His blush deepened, so I kept going. “The sound you get out of your guitars? Wow. But your voice. Barnacles, man. How do you do it?” Now I was gushing, but I liked the way he was responding. I reached over and touched the back of his wrist with one finger, the memory of his reaction when I’d touched his arm yesterday flashing momentarily through my mind.

  His smile widened as he turned his hand over and wrapped his strong fingers around mine before I could pull away again. “Thanks, Miss Ransome.” His eyes lifted, and even though he was still clearly flushed with pleasure over my words, I saw something else in his gaze. That hunger again. “You make it really easy to let go of my inhibitions and just play what I’m feeling.” He drew my hand toward him so I had to lean a little closer. In a quiet murmur, he said, “When we played together, just you and me, last week? That was a first, too. And I’ll never forget it.”

  “Oh,” I mouthed, my voice failing me completely. So he had felt it, that magic we’d made together. His eyes dropped to my lips and stayed there, his fingers tightening over mine. Everything around us seemed to come to a halt as time held its breath.

  The front door opened, and we both retreated to our respective sides of the counter, my hands dropping into my lap, his gripping his coffee cup again.

  “That was incredible,” Tom declared cheerily as he came up behind me and draped his beautiful, big arms around my shoulders, crossing them just under my chin. He gave me a tight squeeze that made breathing difficult, and leaned down to kiss my cheek. Nothing out of the ordinary for us, but I felt self-conscious about how affectionate we were with each other in front of Sebastian. Without releasing me, Tom stood behind me and rested his chin on top of my head. �
�Sebastian, you’re a Godsend, buddy. Just exactly what this band needs.” He chuckled and nuzzled my ear. “I don’t know how Tish is going to survive without me, but at least I can leave next week knowing Marauders is in good hands.”

  “Thanks,” Sebastian replied, not blushing at Tom’s compliments the way he had mine. “I’m glad I could be of help.” In fact, Sebastian’s features had taken on that carefully blank expression again.

  And in a flash of clarity, I knew what Tom was doing. In spite of yesterday’s tumultuous roller coaster ride, the man was casually, but effectively, staking his claim on me again, letting Sebastian know exactly how things stood around here. Tom was making it clear that I was, for all intents and purposes, off limits, at least while he was still around and had a say in the matter.

  Although I didn’t want to embarrass him, I was ticked.

  I caught Sebastian’s eye and was dismayed to see his expression hooded. His smile was definitely mocking, no trace of the earlier intimacy between us.

  I was really ticked.

  Pushing to my feet, I disentangled myself from Tom’s embrace and reached across the island for Sebastian’s cup. I purposefully wrapped my fingers around his and squeezed, my eyes locked with his. “Let me take your cup, Sebastian,” I said, speaking evenly and politely. “Or do you want a refill?” I hoped he’d get my hint that I wanted him to stay.

  As often as we stayed late after shows together, Tom was not a night owl like me. In fact, he had an internal clock that seemed to shut down like—well, like clockwork by midnight if we weren’t high on performance endorphins. The moment he stopped moving, he practically passed out. I knew he had early morning plans with his mother, too, so I was banking on him not being able to stay. Like Ani with her parents, Tom was spending as much time as he could with Mrs. Campbell before he left. Tom chuckled, but there was a wary edge to it. “I need to get going, Tish. Breakfast with Mom.” His mom was an early bird, and Sunday breakfast together was a time-honored tradition for the two of them.