A Light in the Dark

by Becky Doughty

  “Yvette.”

  “Do you think you could do me a huge favor, Yvette?”

  She let her eyes travel up and down my body before she answered. “Sure, honey.”

  I tried not to throw up in my mouth. “Can you please make sure you and your friends don’t buy him any more drinks until we’re done with the next set?” I tipped my head conspiratorially toward her and in a slightly mocking voice, added, “We don’t want him to pass out before you get him back, do we?” If you can’t beat ‘em… make ‘em your allies. I patted Tom on the cheek—the same one I’d slapped a moment ago, the same one that had turned a startling shade of scarlet under the outside lights—and made my way across the parking lot at a determined clip. The tailgate of Tom’s truck sounded like the perfect place for me to spend the rest of my break.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  As I reached for the handle of the tailgate, a long arm came from behind me and got there first. I spun around, expecting to have to ward off Tom again, but it was Sebastian instead.

  “Oh. Hi. Sorry. I thought you were—I wasn’t expecting you. I wasn’t expecting company.” Shut up, T-Bird.

  “I kinda figured. Just checking to make sure you’re okay.” He slowly lowered the tailgate. “You need something out of the truck? I can get it for you.” The bed of Tom’s truck had a tall cab cover over it, something the band had pooled our resources to purchase to protect the gear. We usually left a toolbox of extra picks and capos, wire cutters, duct tape, and other emergency paraphernalia, as well as a bin of extra cords and cables locked up out here, so it was a practical assumption on his part.

  “Actually, I just came out here to—” My voice cracked a little and I closed my mouth while I composed myself. Taking a deep breath, I tried again. “I needed some fresh air.”

  “A tailgate party for one?”

  “Something like that.” I didn’t move, though. Hoisting myself up onto a tailgate was not a pretty thing to witness. Tom ribbed me about it mercilessly, but it didn’t bother me because I knew it was all in good fun. Tonight, though, I didn’t need to hear Sebastian’s snickers over the limitations of my stature. My pride was already bruised and bloodied after that obscene run-in with Tom.

  “Can I help you up?” I swear the man could read my mind. He laced his fingers together and bent toward me, cupping his hands for me as though I were climbing on a horse.

  “I’m not going to put my foot in your hands. We have no idea what I’ve been walking in around here,” I quipped.

  “Then allow me.” He stepped forward, rested his hands on my waist and turned me bodily until my back was to the tailgate. “Hands on my shoulders.”

  I did as instructed, blushing hotly, and he hoisted me up onto the cold metal without even grunting. In spite of how awkward I felt, the gesture was so gallant, and my heart, already a little smitten, did a full-on swoon. I dropped my hands in my lap, clenching them into a tight fist, and looked up to meet his eyes.

  “You really are a little thing, aren’t you?” He grinned, his features softly lit by the parking lot lights. His hands drifted from my waist and he stepped back a little, but still close enough for me to touch him, smell him if I breathed in through my nose.

  “Thank you. That was very gentlemanly of you. Seems to be a rare commodity these days,” I added sullenly.

  His smile faded and he turned around to lean a hip against the tailgate, patted my thigh kindly, and then crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “I caught the tail end of that,” he said quietly. “That’s why I followed you.” But he didn’t ask me if I was okay. Was it that obvious?

  I leaned back on my hands and peered up at the night sky, kicking my ankles back and forth like a little kid. “You get something to eat?” I asked, not wanting to think any more about Tom, lest I start crying.

  “I did.”

  “Good.” The stars were out in full force tonight, and I began counting them to myself, something I’d done as soon as I’d learned that numbers went higher than ten in increments of ten, forever and ever. My dad had once read a verse to me from the Bible that said God counted all the stars in the sky and named every one. As a little girl, I’d lie on my back on a blanket in our back yard and imagine God stretched out beside me, counting stars with me and telling me each name he’d given them. In some ways, it was like my version of praying. In fact, sometimes it was easier than putting to words the things that were heavy on my heart, and I believed he knew my deepest fears and dreams anyway. I secretly thought God enjoyed those moments as much as I did.

  After several minutes of comfortable silence, Sebastian spoke. “Do you want me to stick around or leave you to your party?”

  I rolled my head to the side, but he wasn’t looking at me. “Sebastian.” I said his name slowly, loving the feel of it, the spicy texture of the consonants, the way the end of it faded to almost nothing. “I remember the first time I heard that name. The old Charlton Heston movie, The Greatest Show on Earth. Ever heard of it?”

  He glanced at me over his shoulder, a funny expression on his face.

  I peered up at the stars again, not waiting for an answer. “My mom loves old movies and it was one of her favorites, so I’ve seen it many times over the years. I know Heston was supposed to be the leading man, but my heart belonged to—” I lifted a hand and swept it across the sky to indicate a name in lights. “—The Great Sebastian!”

  “Cornel Wilde.”

  I sat up and bumped his shoulder with mine. “Yes! Oh, Sebastian, if you tell me you know how to swing from a trapeze, I’ll die a happy woman!” The second the words were out of my mouth, I knew they sounded rife with innuendo, reminding me in a sickening way of Yvette and Tom. I really really didn’t want Sebastian to think I was that kind of girl.

  Once again, Sebastian proved himself the gentleman, and said nothing about my remark. He straightened and moved to stand in front of me. Even perched up on the tailgate, I had to look up to meet his eyes. “I was named after that movie,” he said, an almost shy grin on his face.

  “No!” I clapped my hands in a mixture of giddiness and disbelief. And grateful relief. My brothers loved trying to convince me of unbelievable coincidences and this one sounded like something they’d pull.

  “Truth. Yes. The Great Sebastian.” He looked away for a minute and something flashed across his face. If I’d blinked, I would have missed it; a grimace or a wince. But then the smile was back, this time wider, charming. “Sometimes my dad calls me that.”

  “That is brilliant!” I laughed aloud and reached out to grab his forearms, shaking him a little in my exuberance. “I can’t believe it! The Great Sebastian is in my band!”

  He stepped back, bowed deeply, and held out a hand to me. In an Italian accent that rivaled Paulo’s, he said, “I am honored to be in your circus.”

  Tom all but forgotten, I placed my hand in Sebastian’s and giggled when he raised it to his lips and kissed the back. The touch of his lips on my skin sent a little jolt of excitement up my arm and I started to pull away, feeling unsure of myself.

  And once again, Sebastian held on. He stepped closer. “Tish Ransome. I remember the first time I heard that name.” Another step. “February 3rd, Music Theory III. Ever heard of it?” And another step. My knees were bumping against the front of his thighs.

  “Titia Danielle,” I whispered. “Sometimes my dad calls me that.” We did this a lot, it seemed, as though we were recycling conversation to squeeze every last ounce of goodness out of it.

  “Titia. I like that. Sounds like you should be swinging from the high-wire. Titia the Trapeze Temptress.”

  He was too close. I lowered my gaze to his chest and tried to think funny thoughts. Humor, my go-to failsafe. “I prefer Titia the Terrible, or Titia the Tornado. Or maybe even—”

  Sebastian’s hands made a slow journey up the length of my arms, over the slope of my shoulders and came to rest on either side of my neck, his fingers sliding into my hair at the back of my head. The stars over
head disappeared as he tipped my face up and lowered his mouth to mine.

  I sighed like a contented puppy and leaned into him, my arms slipping around his waist, arching my body toward him.

  “The Tantalizing Titia,” he murmured a moment later, his lips still so close I could feel the warmth of his breath on mine.

  “And The Great Sebastian,” I whispered back. “With names like ours, we sound like a pretty amazing act.”

  “I’d go see us perform.”

  “So would I.” Neither one of us brought up the fact that it would be a physical impossibility, unless, of course, we had a time-traveling phone booth or DeLorean We were too busy macking—Tish’s version—to really care anyway.

  ***

  We barely made it back in time; too late to reapply my lipstick. Corny stood off to the left of the platform, tapping his wrist as we hurried through the milling crowd, Sebastian’s hand low on my back as I moved just ahead of him. Jon and Sly exchanged knowing looks between them, and Sly winked at me, but I wouldn’t look at Tom.

  I strapped on my ES-335, glanced at Sebastian to make sure he was ready, and finally lifted my gaze to Tom. He wasn’t even looking at me. His eyes were on Yvette who stood a few feet away, two half-drunk glasses in her hand, her dark brown curls noticeably messier than they’d been the last time I’d seen her, and the strap of her little red dress slipping off one shoulder, exposing the top of her lacy push-up bra. Oh, Tom. I hope you don’t regret this night. As badly as things had started, I sure wouldn’t.

  I hit a beefy bar chord and stepped up to my microphone. If Tom wasn’t going to get this party started, I would. “Hey all you crazy cats out there! How ya’ doing?”

  I hit a few more chords, the opening riff to Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water,” Sebastian and Tom joining in. The sound was intense, electrifying.

  “You ready to tear it up tonight?” Cheers rose all around us. “Because we sure are, aren’t we, boys?” I pointed at each one of the band members in turn, starting with Corny who had taken his place behind his keyboard. “Corny the Keymaster! The Energizer Jonny on drums! Big Daddy Slyman!” Each of them offered up a riff as I called their names. “For those of you who haven’t met him yet, let me introduce you to The Great Sebastian!”

  Sebastian, to my surprise, swept into the second part of Slash’s melodic guitar solo from Guns n Roses’ “Sweet Child of Mine.” I recognized it immediately, and knew it was for me. Tom, clearly a little tipsier than he’d been half an hour ago, raised a fist in appreciation and started doing his Axl Rose moves.

  “And up front and center.” My voice rose to accommodate the cheers. “Performing one last time.” I said each word slowly, deliberately. “The Amazing Tom Campbell!” And I drew out the word “amazing” like I was announcing a prize fighter in the rink.

  Tom didn’t even bother playing his guitar. He just struck a spread-eagle rock pose, arms in the air, and roared, “Hello, Midtown! Hello, Taylors! Are you ready for a piece of me?”

  I glanced back at Sebastian to find him shaking his head at me with a huge grin on his face. He was the only other person who knew that I’d just served Tom up a plate of in-your-face. It was unkind, but I felt exonerated. Not even Tom realized I’d just thrown his and Yvette’s favorite adjective out to the masses.

  “And I’m Tenacious T. Ransome, Lady Marauder!” I cried out. “All the ladies in the house say, ‘Yeah!’” I broke out into opening riff of “Crazy Train” and Sebastian joined in, his Strat adding a massive slab of beef to my sweeter tones.

  “I wanna hear you go crazy!” Tom called out a couple of times before launching into the first verse, not caring that this song wasn’t even on our play list.

  Whatever Sebastian had infused his kisses with, it had gone straight to my bloodstream. I was on fire.

  In fact, the whole band was on a rampage and throughout the rest of the set we were so amped up no one seemed to notice that Tom was unsteady on his feet, or that Sebastian and I were having the time of our lives playing off each other. Or that we went almost an hour over before Tom started winding us down and saying his goodbyes. Whether from sheer exhaustion or the fact that Yvette was handing him anything but water to drink between songs, his words were almost unintelligible, but no one seemed to notice that, either. He stumbled off the stage into the waiting arms of his adoring fans, leaving the equipment tear down to the rest of us.

  I was good with that, but I was dreading the ride home with him. Looked like I’d be driving tonight.

  ***

  In the end, Corny drove the truck home, forcing me to squeeze in between him and Tom on the bench seat. Corny’s girlfriend, Donna, followed us in his car, and Sebastian caravanned behind her in his little Sentra, both guys acknowledging during tear down that if they didn’t come along, I’d be unloading equipment by myself. And someone had to get Tom home safely, after all.

  Corny had nicely, but firmly, refused Yvette’s offer to give The Amazing Tom a ride to “wherever he wants me to take him” and Tom now sat placidly on the curb watching the other two guys pull gear from the truck bed. Donna and I sat on either side of him, just in case he decided to take a nap in the gutter while he waited for his ride home.

  Tom was all dopey smiles and sweet talk in the afterglow of the night. He must have sweat out some of the “grope” bi-products of the alcohol he’d consumed; although he had his arm draped loosely around my shoulders, he wasn’t being aggressive at all. I knew Sebastian was keeping an attentive watch on us, but I waved a dismissive hand at the concerned look on his face.

  “Amazing night, you guys. I just love you.” He squeezed me gently, pulling me up against him a little more tightly. “You’re amazing, both of you.”

  “No, you, Campbell, are amazing,” I said jokingly.

  Donna laughed. “We love you, too, Tom.” He laid his head on my shoulder, his arm slipping down my back. Donna patted his thigh gently. “Hang in there, honey. We’ll get you home to your own bed soon.”

  “Thanks. And Tish?”

  “Hm?” I knew what was coming, but I was still bathed in the euphoria of Sebastian’s kisses and a night of very loud music.

  “Sorry about tonight. About… um… Eve… Yvonne? Venus? Dang it. I can’t remember her name.”

  I started to snicker, and then I heard Donna laughing quietly, and pretty soon, Tom was, too.

  “Yvette,” I finally wheezed out. “I’m just glad you got your arm back.”

  “Me, too. I was worried there for a bit. Didn’t know how I was going to play my riffage with only one arm.”

  When Tom had fallen silent, Donna spoke quietly. “You two going to be okay? When he leaves?” Her voice was soft with kindness.

  I shrugged, making Tom mumble a complaint, and said, “It may take a little time, but I think we’ll figure out how to be okay with it, you know?” I glanced over at Corny and Sebastian as they made their way up the driveway around to the side entrance of the studio, arms full. “Will the band survive? I think so. I hope so. Man, I hope so.”

  “It will,” she assured me, patting Tom’s knee again as though it were mine. “I’m not worried about Marauders. You all are ridiculously talented—”

  “And amazing,” I interrupted playfully.

  “And amazing,” she concurred. “That’s for sure.” She smiled affectionately at her boyfriend. “You’re going somewhere, this group is. And you couldn’t have a better manager than my Corny. I know you think I’m just saying that because I’m biased, and you’d be right. But you should hear the way he talks Marauders up. He totally believes in you.”

  I reached across Tom’s lap and squeezed her hand, and we sat in silence until the guys finished up. After another round of hugs and compliments, Corny drove Tom home with Donna in hot pursuit. I knew she was anxious for the business part of Corny’s night to be over so she could have her man to herself—she was one patient woman. And Corny was one lucky man.

  After the tail lights of Corny’s car disapp
eared around the corner at the end of our street, I stepped into Sebastian’s waiting embrace, sliding my arms around his waist beneath his flannel overshirt, relishing in the warmth his body exuded.

  And I was one lucky girl.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  It was too late to call or text when I crawled into bed after saying goodnight to Sebastian, so I grabbed my laptop and emailed Ani, telling her all about the events of the night. I didn’t know how I was going to fall asleep at all, so after I sent off the missive filled with tons of exclamation points and capital letters and goofy emojis, I crept downstairs and slipped outside into the backyard, a blanket wrapped around me. Instead of lying on the lawn, I lowered my blankety bulk onto a swing. Swaying a little side-to-side, I gazed up at the stars, but this time, I didn’t count them.

  I thought about Sebastian. And his kisses. His big body wrapped around mine. The rough texture of his working-man’s hands, the rasp of his jaw beneath my fingertips. The way he smelled, the rumble of his voice inside his chest, the warmth of his breath against my skin when he whispered my name.

  “Thank you,” I said out loud, my face lifted, my eyes closed. I didn’t need to explain to God what I was thankful for. He already knew.

  My phone buzzed in my bra and I smiled giddily, knowing already who it was.

  SebastianJack: You still awake?

  JollyRockerTBird: I am. I considered changing his ID, but it made me giggle so I decided to leave it be for now. It was also a good reminder that I still needed some questions answered about those months we spent not speaking to each other. I wondered for a moment what things would be like now if we’d started this back in January.

  SebastianJack: I can’t sleep so I’m counting stars.

  I’d never told anyone about my star obsession other than Ani, although I’m pretty sure my folks figured it out. I never hid what I was doing, lying out there with my arm extended, pointing up into the sky, and the one time my dad asked who I was talking to, I’d said, “God,” and he’d nodded and gone back inside. I’d see them watching me from a window, just checking up on me, I assumed, but they’d been sensitive enough to my quirks to leave me alone with the creator of the universe.