by Dee J. Adams
“I can’t believe you only lost your sight a few weeks ago. You don’t act blind.”
“I’m not completely blind. I can see blurry edges, but not enough to do me much good. I just do everything slow and steady. Well, most of the time,” she conceded. “Sometimes I mislead myself into thinking I’m not as blind as I am.” She lifted a hand as if to stop his comment. “I know, sounds stupid as we’ve clearly just witnessed outside. But I can’t live in fear.” She sighed and it seemed as if she had a whole lot of something raging in her head. “The other reason is Lizzie. I wouldn’t be able to do half as much as I do without her.”
“Where is she?” Mel asked, taking a peek in the toaster.
“She got rear-ended yesterday and she’s out getting quotes from two different body shops.” She filled the glasses with crushed ice from the fridge door.
“That sucks. You’re okay here by yourself?”
“I’m not by myself.” She smiled at him. “You’re here.” Mel would’ve sworn she was looking right at him. It was the strangest sensation. To be looked at but not seen. But hadn’t audiences been doing that for years. Looking at him on stage, seeing Seger Hughes and having no clue who he really was?
“Oh, you won’t believe this,” she said reaching for a knife in the block. “Lizzie has never heard of your boss. Crazy, right? I told her it was time to trade in some of her classical music for a little rock-n-roll, but she didn’t seem too eager.”
Mel didn’t think the day could get any better. “Ah, well. Can’t win ’em all. I’m sure Seger will survive. I’ll just keep my mouth shut and he’ll never know.”
Ashley snorted as the toast popped. He brought the slices to the center island where she methodically made them both another sandwich. Watching her hands shouldn’t have been so fascinating. The way her long fingers placed the chicken on the bread, the way she spread the Miracle Whip then cut each sandwich from corner to corner. She waved him over, patted the stool next to her and slid a plate in front of him.
Mel sat down and took a bite. “God, this is even better than the first one.”
“It’s the toast,” Ashley said after swallowing. “Makes all the difference.”
“Is the Miracle Whip one of your secret ingredients?” he asked.
“Damn,” she muttered. “I was hoping you missed that.” Her eye roll made him laugh. “But that leaves one secret ingredient still secret. Oh. I got glasses but forgot drinks. What can I get you?” She started to rise.
“Let me get it,” Mel said. “Remember, I’m making myself at home.” He opened the door to the neatest refrigerator he’d ever seen. Everything was stacked and stored in precise order. Most of the containers had large black print and raised dots on the labels, which had to be Braille. A line of Dr Peppers stretched from the front to the back of the second shelf.
“Water is fine for me,” she said.
He shut the door and filled their glasses from the filtered water dispenser. He couldn’t imagine how tough it would be to live without eyesight. “Here you go.” He set the water next to her plate.
“Thanks.” She took a swig and chewed ice after she swallowed. “So, are you from California originally?”
He’d known this was going to happen, but he was ready for it. “No, I moved here almost twenty years ago, but I’ve been on the road so much that I can’t say I’ve really lived here.”
“Where are you from?”
“Lots of places. My folks moved around a lot. Maybe that’s why touring wasn’t such a hardship for so many years.” Not until recently anyway. Mel took a bite of his sandwich.
“Was your dad in the military?” she asked.
“No, no. Nothing like that. He just always found a reason to move someplace new.” Probably because he couldn’t keep a job. If there’d been something to sell, he had sold it. From vacuum cleaners to shoes. From used cars to sunglasses. Mel saw no reason to share that information. “We started off in the Midwest and just continued moving west. My folks stopped in Arizona and I ended up out here.”
Hell, he couldn’t believe he was actually telling her the truth. For the last twenty years he’d been telling people his parents had died when he was a teenager. His father’s real last words to him had been, “If you walk out that door, you’ll be dead to me.” Well, Pop, it worked both ways. During his trek west, he’d found a couple traveling the country in an RV. They’d taken him in briefly and dropped him off in Los Angeles. Mel had never seen them again, but he used them as his cover story and it had held up all these years.
“Wait, wait, wait. You said you’ve been here twenty years, but your parents never got this far. How old are you anyway? I mean, I pictured a teenager discovering the beach for the first time, but I also imagined parents in the scene.”
Damn, she was a thinker. “I’m at the end of thirty-five,” he said.
“Ah.” She nodded. “Now I get it.” She crunched a chip. “So you ran away from home at fifteen and came to L.A. looking for…” she let the sentence trail off.
“Actually, I was sixteen and I was looking for fame.” He’d found it all right. It wasn’t exactly what he’d thought it would be. Maybe in the beginning, but now…
“Not everybody can be famous,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “That’s not what makes the world go ’round.”
Mel nodded. “Yeah, I figured that out.” The hard way.
“How’d you become a guitar tech for Seger Hughes. That has to be exciting.”
Mel figured Rick wouldn’t mind if he explained their first meeting and subsequent relationship. He was stealing Rick’s identity after all. “I’d been working in a guitar shop and Seger came in. It was in the beginning of his career and he’d just signed with an agent. He was psyched and ready to buy something new to celebrate. He was testing out a few different sounds and fiddling with a few new tunes he was working up. I suggested a Fender when he’d been playing an acoustic. The song sounded much sharper and he loved it. He gave me his card and said to call him if I wanted tickets to his next show at the Key Club. I didn’t think much about it until a few days later when my boss told me he’d sold the store and two weeks later I was out of a job. I called Seger about the tickets and told him if he needed a guitar tech that I was available. Long story short, he offered me a job. We’ve been together ever since.” Rick had handed him a Fender guitar that had made all the difference in the sound of the song. That song had put Seger on the charts and launched his career. He still used that guitar today.
God he remembered the high of walking into that guitar shop knowing he had an agent who not only loved him, but promised a record deal within six months. Not only had the record deal materialized in four months, but so had Greg. Greg had been an executive at his first record label, but he’d hated the office job. The two of them had struck up a solid friendship and had the same goal…to make Seger Hughes a household name.
“That’s a great story,” Ashley said. “Does it pay more than the guitar store?”
Mel laughed. Rick made a six-figure salary. “Yeah, I’d have to give a big yes to that. What about you?” he asked. “What are you into? What did you do before the accident besides work and law school?”
Ashley snorted. “Did you hear yourself just now? Besides work and law school I barely had time to breathe. On occasion, I managed to go out and blow off some steam, but I can’t say that I was really into anything, but trying to get ahead. I’d wanted to start my own practice, but…like I told you yesterday, life didn’t go as planned.”
Mel’s life had gone exactly according to plan and for some reason it had blown up in his face. Poor little rock star. God, he disgusted himself. His heartbeat seemed to roar loudly in his chest. Shit, now he was having anxiety attacks. Great.
“Uh, oh,” Ashley said, stiffening next to him. “Do you feel—”
A rumbling started and got distinctively louder. Almost like the sensation of twenty thousand fans in a stadium stomping for an encore. But the rumbling s
uddenly turned into full-fledged shaking. Everything on the kitchen counter started jumping, the light fixture over the kitchen table started swinging and everything rattled frantically.
“What the fuck?” Mel said, rising off his stool.
“Earthquake!” Ashley yelped, reaching for him. She found his arm, grabbed hold and pulled him hard. “C’mon!”
Chapter Ten
Ashley pulled Mel to the closest doorway between the kitchen and sand room. The noise absolutely freaked her out. There may as well have been a locomotive blasting through the house. Had she had any idea how freaking scary an earthquake was going to be while nearly freaking blind, she might have moved out of state.
Mel had an arm around her, God bless him, and after a few seconds the shaking stopped. That is to say, the ground and house stopped shaking, Ashley was still shivering like a wet dog in a cold bath.
“Jesus. Are you okay?” He stood in front of her, both hands on her arms.
Somehow her hands had landed against his chest. Beneath the soft cotton of his T-shirt was his extremely solid, rock-hard chest. How could Lizzie have failed to mention the muscle on this guy? Ashley remembered Lizzie’s word, and he was way more than just “built.” The man was sculpted. Instead of feeling every inch of chest in front of her, which is what she wanted to do, she backed up a step.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ashley told him, willing her panic away. “I’m okay. What about you?”
“I think I’m glad I missed all the earthquakes in the past and I’d rather not go through any more in the future.” He stayed silent for a second and Ashley sensed him looking around. “You think that was it?” he asked.
“I sure hope so,” she said. But neither of them budged from the relative safety of the doorframe. In fact, this was the closest Ashley had been to an eligible bachelor in two years. Not that she really had concrete information he was in fact eligible. But she hadn’t realized before now how much she missed the contact of a warm male body. “I’d hate to think that was just a foreshock,” she added.
“Don’t even say tha—” Another boom shook the room and just as quickly something slammed into Ashley’s leg and took it right out from beneath her. She yelped as everything went topsy-turvy and Mel swore. Roamer must have shot through the doggie-door like a bullet. Ashley had twisted and put her arms out, expecting a hard fall on the tile, but instead found herself in Mel’s arms, flush against his gorgeous chest. She’d inadvertently grabbed a hold of the most spectacular biceps this side of the Pacific.
Oh. My. God.
Cut didn’t begin to describe this man’s body. It wasn’t the size that impressed her, but the absolute steel and definition of his arms.
“Shit, I don’t know what’s worse,” he said. “The earthquake or your dog.”
Ashley choked out a shaky chuckle. “Yeah, that was kind of a toss up just now,” she said breathlessly. Mel was almost a full head taller than her and her head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. God, she wished she could see him.
“I think it’s safe to say that I don’t like earthquakes,” he said. His voice seemed unnaturally hoarse. “Not big ones, small ones or any type in between.”
Roamer’s nails clicked on the floor as he came back and circled them in the doorway, keeping them together as he panted.
Ashley didn’t try to pull back. She liked the feel of Mel so close to her. Strong and warm. She felt the way his beard rasped against her temple. She’d forgotten about his beard. A fresh picture of Robert Klein with food stuck in his beard materialized in her head. A little stubble might be sexy, but facial hair also tended to obscure a handsome face.
Despite her own initial panic, she took a deep breath and calmed herself. Granted, this might have been her first earthquake without full sight, but at least she had Mel here with her. Poor guy, he’d never been through one at all. She felt obligated to take his mind off it for a minute.
“What color are your eyes?” she asked.
He pulled back a fraction. Ashley felt him looking down at her; studying her the way she wished she could study him.
“Hazel,” he said. “Nothing special.”
“Hazel is nice,” she said, shoving at his chest a little. “Don’t say ‘nothing special.’”
The oddest moment passed. Silent and long. Ashley’s heart took an odd leap and it suddenly seemed very awkward to be standing in the arms of her new neighbor. The old Ashley might’ve taken advantage of this situation. The Ashley from two years ago would’ve probably reached up and kissed her new hunky neighbor. But this Ashley didn’t dare. Not only did she not know him, but she couldn’t see him and she couldn’t forget about the beard. That pretty much turned off her radar.
But wasn’t it nice to know that after two years, her radar had turned on at all?
Ashley gave Mel’s biceps a gentle squeeze as she stepped back. Yep, she knew what she’d be fantasizing about after he left.
“How’s my place look?” she asked, gesturing to the room.
There was another silence as he surveyed the kitchen. At least she thought that’s what he was doing. “It looks fine. Like nothing happened.”
“That’s good.”
Roamer begged for attention at her feet, prancing and nudging her palm. Ashley bent down and took his face in her hands, rubbing his ears the way he liked. “You okay, Ro?” she asked. “That was probably your first earthquake too, huh, pal?” He licked her cheek and pushed his head against her hands.
“Sorry about him,” she said, turning her head in Mel’s direction.
Mel crouched next to her and his hand brushed hers as he patted Roamer’s neck. “It’s okay. I can’t blame him for being scared. That was a first for both of us. At least I understand what happened. He doesn’t have a clue.”
Another odd silence descended as they both gave Roamer the attention he needed. Ashley finally stood up. “You should probably go check your place,” she said. “Make sure everything is okay.”
Mel got to his feet too. Ashley felt his warmth next to her. “What about here?” he asked. “Shouldn’t we look around here first and make sure nothing’s broken?”
Since Lizzie wasn’t here, he was probably right. The last thing she or Roamer needed was to step on broken glass. “I’d really appreciate that. Thanks.”
“Hey, it’s the least I can do.” He started moving and Ashley followed with Roamer at her left. They got to the den and he whistled. “Holy shit, this is gorgeous. Who painted this? This is what I need in my place.”
Pride burst in Ashley’s chest. “Thanks. But shouldn’t you check with the guy who owns the place before you start painting murals on the walls?”
“He’d love it. Trust me.” He was quiet and she pictured him surveying the walls. The den and living room were her favorites. Whereas she had a view of Italy in the living room, she had Greece in here. A 3-D picture of the sea and a steep hillside filled with ocean-view homes. She’d spent hours on the detail. The picture depicted a lazy summer afternoon, the sun shining, people lounging by the water or on their balconies. It had taken her weeks to paint the walls in this room.
“Seriously,” he said. “I want this guy’s number.”
She felt him face her and sadness replaced her pride. “I could give you the number, but it wouldn’t do you any good.”
“Why, did he move out of state? Or do you just want to hoard all the good stuff for yourself?”
“Hardly.” She’d have loved nothing more than to paint murals on blank walls, to make life out of a blank slate. But she’d chosen to paint life instead of live it when she had her sight and a whole year to explore. Now, she may have lost the opportunity forever. She shrugged. “I painted it. I painted the whole house. Before…”
It was funny how she could sense his surprise. Or maybe she’d gotten really good at imagining what people were feeling. It was hard to say sometimes.
“Jesus, Ashley. I’m…I’m sorry. I had no idea. This is fucking amazing.” She heard him shift as
he scanned the walls again. “I mean really unbelievable.”
“Thanks.” She refused to let depression take her under. “One day…when I get my vision back, I’ll paint your walls. Seger’s walls,” she said. But she’d travel to the places first. She’d see them for herself and experience the joy of learning about new cultures. “But I have to know that he’s really okay with it.”
“What idiot wouldn’t be okay with something like this on the wall?” Mel started moving again. “Every room in the house has one of these?”
“No, just a few. Each room is just a different place.”
He whistled again when they hit the living room. “Have you been painting your whole life?”
She laughed. “Not really. I’ve always liked to do it, but never had the time. Then when I bought this place, I started playing with colors and the next thing you know I had a picture in my head and…well, the rest is in front of you. Trust me, it took a long time and a lot of paint.”
“You are seriously talented, girl.”
Was. Past tense. No vision meant no painting and no seeing the places she’d painted and hoped to one day visit. Life was a bitch.
They continued through the house and ten minutes later, Mel deemed it clear. “I think I’d better check out my place next,” he said. “See if I lost anything.” He opened the front door but paused.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I can’t leave you here alone,” he told her. “How about you come with me?”
“Is this because I can’t see anything or—”
“It’s because if there’s another earthquake, I don’t want to be alone. Period. C’mon, come with me. Roamer too.”
He had a point. She didn’t especially want to be alone if the ground started shaking again. “Okay. You convinced me.” She patted her thigh. “C’mon, Roamer.” Her dog hadn’t needed to hear his name. He came as soon as she slapped her leg.
Mel took her hand after she closed the door and gave a little tug.