A tall, lanky guy with curly blond hair is standing in front of me. He’s saddled down with equipment and a pleading look in his eyes. “Yes?”
“Hi. Blake Anthony.”
He juggles a camera from his right hand to his left and offers me the now-free hand.
My fingers barely touch his hand. “Hello.”
He shifts his camera back to his right hand. “This is amazing.”
“What is amazing?” I can’t help but stare at the camera. Is it full of pictures of me? Here in Lawson’s Ledge?
He looks bewildered. “You’re joking right? I’m standing here actually talking to Summer Sinclair. Nobody’s going to believe this.”
“Nobody’s going to believe because nobody’s going to know. Although I must say all your equipment is scaring me. You haven’t been—”
He holds his palm up. “No. I haven’t been taking pictures. I’m one of those hard-to-find journalists. Ask first, then tell.”
Is this guy for real? I search his face. His gaze locks with mine. While there’s no Levi rush-type feeling, there’s a genuine look about Blake Anthony. But I can’t trust him. Not one bit. I try to take a step back, but the bench is in the way. “I appreciate that. I’m not sure if I can believe you, though.”
“I’m telling you the truth. Promise. I’m hoping honesty pays off here, because what I really want is to do a story on you. I’m kind of freelancing it right now, and wow, you could really jump start something for me.”
It’s all about him. I understand. But I can’t help him. I’m not his ticket anywhere. I don’t even know what direction I’m heading. “I’m not doing any interviews now. Or anytime in the future.”
Thoughts of Meghan Cascade come into my mind. Coleman wants me to interview with her, and I guess until this point I haven’t made my decision. But the thought of baring my soul to who knows how many people scares me. I don’t want to do it. Not for this wanna-be or for Meghan.
Blake shifts from one foot to another as his hand scratches his head. “I know you are going to think I’m crazy, and I’m going to try not to sound like I’m begging, but I need a story. I work for a local rag-mag. I admit it. But I’m good. And desperate.”
The absurdity of this situation hits me. “That’s so exciting. I’m now fodder for desperate journalists.”
The sentence comes out before I can stop it.
Blake’s shoulders square while his eyes widen. “Oh, sorry. That came out all wrong. I’m not making a very good first impression am I?”
“You’re not making any impression, Dude. I don’t think she’s interested.”
Levi steps around Blake Anthony and stands next to me.
I smile right along with my heart.
“Levi Preston.” Levi holds his hand out. Blake does his juggling act again and shakes Levi’s hand.
“Blake Anthony.”
Levi drapes his arm around my shoulder and looks at me. He’s got such a serious look on his face I can’t imagine what he’s about to say. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up. Are you ready?”
My body kind of molds next to his. Like our curves fit perfectly together. His hip nestles at my waist while my shoulder fits like a puzzle piece into the cavern made as his arm enfolds me. It all feels so good.
But I know it’s an act. To get me away from the photographer. I’m surprised at my I’ll-take-what-I-can-get attitude when it comes to Levi. “Sure, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Blake digs into his pocket and hands me a business card. “If you change your mind and want to help out a struggling journalist, call. Please?”
I don’t answer. And I know he doesn’t expect me to.
He slowly backs away. “It was great meeting you.” He waves before hightailing it down the sidewalk.
I should be focused on whether or not Blake Anthony is on the up and up, but instead I wonder how long it will take Levi to remove his arm? As soon as Blake is out of sight? What if this wasn’t pretend?
What if Levi actually liked me?
Which he doesn’t. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want to be around me.
Levi looks down the street. “I don’t think he’ll bother you again. Strange dude.” Levi’s arm drops from my shoulder.
I knew it. “Yes, he was.” I tuck Blake’s business card in my purse.
Digging into the small bag I pull out the uneaten piece of fudge. “Here. Thanks for rescuing me.”
He taps the brim of my hat before taking the fudge. “Your disguise didn’t work very well.”
“I know.”
“It must be hard living like you do. Watching out for photographers, not being able to just go places when you want to.”
“That’s why it’s been great being here. And I thought staying out of the limelight for the past year would help. It’s times like today I miss my bodyguards. But hey, you turned out to be a great one. Are you for hire?”
I can see his Adam’s apple move as he swallows. Apparently I’ve gone too far. His lips are pursed, his eyes avoid mine, but they’re blinking rapidly. Too rapidly for someone unaffected by the words I’ve just spoken. Have I tapped into something?
Levi’s words from yesterday ring through my mind. Skeet, you know what I’ve been through. This isn’t a good time for me.
Ah, another sobriety benefit. Memory retention.
“No,” Levi says between bites. “Sorry.”
I kind of wish I could take my words back. His eyes aren’t as warm as they were a minute ago. “It was supposed to be a joke.”
“I know. I got it. So you managed to ditch your cranky manager?”
“Yes.” The whole Levi experience threatens to disappear at the mention of Coleman’s name. “But let’s not talk about him.”
“Fine with me. Can I walk you to your car?”
“Sure.” I don’t hesitate at my response. Now I’m the one who’s probably sounding desperate. Coleman is ruining everything lately. He probably has been for a long time. I just wasn’t aware enough to notice.
“Let’s go.” I look at Levi who’s shoved his hands into his pockets.
He tilts his head to the right. “This way?”
“Yeah.” We cross the street. Too quickly we’re standing behind my car. I really don’t want to leave Levi, yet I have no good reason to stick around. It’s not like I’m going to ask him to go shopping or anything.
Resigned, I click the button and walk around to the side of my car. The door unlocks, and I open it. “Thanks again. For everything.”
I slide into my car. Levi’s hand is on the door.
“Drive careful.” His voice sounds sincere. I know Levi isn’t making reference to my many traffic woes, all of which ended as media mania.
“I will.” I’m still unsure as to how to handle genuine concern. I start the car.
He shuts the door, shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away.
But I don’t want him to walk away. I want; well I don’t know what I truly want from him. Just being around him makes me uncomfortable in a good way. Like something of him could permeate into me. What that something is I don’t know. But I know that it’s good. And it’s walking away. The story of my life.
The story of my old life. I hit the steering wheel with my palm.
Not my new life.
I turn off my car and open the door more determined than ever to take control of what is happening.
Chapter Four
Levi isn’t walking fast, and I catch up to him pretty quickly.
“Levi.” I lightly touch the back of his arm liking the way his name sounds when I speak it.
He stops and turns at the same time and I have to side-step to avoid running into him. Good thing the sidewalk isn’t crowded. We might cause a wreck.
“Decide to stay in town a while?” he asks.
I study his face. I’m so close to him I can see the shades of varying browns in his eyes. I can also see they are searching. They aren’t quite sure what I’m doing and why.
But as searchi
ng as they are, combined with his perfectly placed nose and mouth, the combination is enough to make any female look twice. His dark hair, long enough not to be short and short enough not to be long, is just kind of there doing its own thing.
“Summer. Why are you staring?”
I take a step back. “I’m sorry. That is so rude.”
Sobriety has its awesome moments, like being able to clearly study a very handsome man. And it has its awkward moments—getting caught studying said handsome man.
“No. You weren’t being rude.”
Yeah, sure. “I just wanted to apologize for Coleman. His manners are lacking at times for sure. He’s extremely paranoid when it comes to me. I’m sorry.”
Levi momentarily looks to the ground. “You don’t need to apologize for him. It’s his issue, not yours.”
“It is, but he represents me to a lot of people.”
“He’s on your payroll.”
His true words sting. “I just wanted to let you know his views aren’t my views.”
“What are your views?”
Levi asks tough questions. Ones I haven’t pondered before. “I’m not sure. I’m still trying to figure them out, what with my new lease on life.”
He looks at me questioningly.
Cars drive slowly by in direct opposition to the fast pulse of my heart. I would like to think the September sun is making my face hot, but I’m sure the heat comes from within. But I lay it all out. “Sober, you know. Fully aware. Raw senses. Nothing hazed or dazed.”
His look is pensive. Then he shrugs his shoulders.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it all out. You seem like a bright lady.”
His words come out choppy. Automatic. Can’t-really-believe-them words, which makes me even more curious. And again, he uses the word lady.
Levi intrigues me. There is something about him. Something worth looking into. Just to know what’s he’s been through if nothing else. I gather all the courage my therapist says I have and take a deep breath. “So, can we still try working together? Just for a couple of hours?”
My body braces itself for rejection. Prepares for the word no. Prepares to battle the feelings that will come on like an onslaught.
“Sure.”
Whoa! I step back, literally, again. What shifted? What changed? Levi doesn’t seem like the I’ll-do-this-to-be-polite kind of guy.
“Okay.” I don’t know what else to say.
“Why don’t we go to Skeet’s now? We can know by the end of today if we can collaborate or not.”
He throws out his request like it’s a challenge. Well, I’m up for it. “Sure. Let’s go.”
Shaking his head, he chuckles. “See you at Skeet’s.”
I walk back to my car confused yet excited.
Levi said yes.
“So, what exactly do you need to do?” Levi asks me as we sit in Skeet’s studio strumming our guitars.
“Write a CD.”
He stops strumming. “A CD? A whole CD?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. I’m working on a CD myself. I’ve written a lot of lyrics, but I’m stagnating on the music end. Tunes all sounding the same, beats, rhythms. I need a change-up.”
“You need a change-up. I need my whole life changed.”
“You seem like you’re coming along. I don’t see how you put up with your manager, though. He’s out there.”
“I’ve worked with him for twenty years.”
His eyebrows rise. “No, you’ve worked for him, remember. It’s time to make that man work for you.”
A crazy feeling shoots through me. Like it could happen. Coleman actually listening to me and taking my ideas seriously. Could it?
“So, let’s get to work on your CD even though you don’t have any songs written.” He looks at me like he really cares.
Visions of the legal pad race through my mind. It’s still tucked under the cushion on my patio. I don’t think I’m ready to share the words with anyone yet. I always thought the only person I would show them to would be Skeet. But now a dark-haired man might change my mind.
“Can I hear something you’re working on?” I ask.
“Can I trust you?”
His tone is playful, but I can’t help but wonder if he’s serious at all. The man has got to be suspicious of me. Or is that paranoia? A word my therapist introduced me to. Apparently it’s how I’d been living and didn’t even know it.
He grabs some papers off a table and hands me a stack.
“What’s the first title?” he asks.
“One Love. One Life.”
“Okay,” he says. “Here goes.”
I listen in amazement at the words. The music is incredible, and I wonder why he thinks there is something wrong with his music. If I could do this, I would be … well, in my world I would be doomed, but it’s what he does well. Maybe too well, I think as he heads into the second song, which truth be told, is a similar version of the first song.
“Stop.” My voice struggles to be heard over his guitar playing and singing. “Stop!”
Abruptly the room is enveloped in silence.
“Go back to the first song. The chorus.”
I slip off the stool, laying all the papers but the one he’s singing on it. I move away from where we are sitting to an open area. I try to capture the feeling of the song. It eludes me.
“What about this?” I ask, digging inside to the place that’s recently been tapped by Skeet’s introduction to God and all His wonders.
Levi stops playing. I start singing. Softly at first, then gradually I become louder, more confident. The paper shakes slightly as I put a totally different spin on the song, the beat, the tempo.
“Very interesting,” he says when I stop.
I’m not sure interesting is a compliment. “It’s how I see the words.”
“I didn’t write them to be said fast, running together like a runaway stream.”
“Maybe not. But look at them. The chorus is simple. Basic. You can get away with it because the emphasis will be on the music.”
“But I want the emphasis to be on the words.”
Levi’s tone is calm, but his face isn’t looking too calm.
“People will hear the words. They’ll get it,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. I mean who am I to tell the Christian guy what to put on his God CD?
“Sing it again,” he says. “But this time enunciate more. Let me hear the words individually. Don’t run them all together like there’s no space between them.”
“You mean like I have a mouth full of peanut butter?”
He laughs. It sounds good, and my heart has an unfamiliar warming. A warming I don’t want to get used to. “Yes.”
I start singing.
“Again,” he says when I reach the end. So I repeat the words, but this time he starts strumming a tune. It’s amazing what he can do with a guitar. His voice joins mine. The air is crackling with a vibrant sensation. Electricity, vibes, something that is surreal. Crazy. Good.
God?
We stop singing, and Levi stops strumming. The silence is as loud as our voices were moments ago. Neither one of us speak.
“Excellent,” Levi says. “Gives the song a whole new spin. I like it.”
He likes it.
Likes it.
I swallow hard, taking in the surroundings of the room. A row of windows make up one wall, while photos line one of the other walls. Photos of people Skeet has mentored. Somehow I can’t see my picture there. I look at Levi. So different from me. Seemingly so in tune with who he is and what he wants in life. We couldn’t be more opposite. “We see things differently, you and I.”
“That we do. But you make it sound like a bad thing.”
He’s looking at me like he’s waiting for a response. “No. But …”
“But what?” Levi strums a chord, his expression daring me to continue.
“But we wouldn’t be together working if we didn’t know Skeet.”
/> He strums another chord, his gaze playful. “And your point?”
“I can sing, so can you. I can play the guitar, so can you. But that’s where it ends. After that we have nothing in common. Our backgrounds are different, our fans are different.”
“We have the same friends. At least one. And from what my friend tells me, we have the same heart. The same love for Jesus.”
Levi’s boldness scares me, yet draws me in. I’ve never talked about Jesus out loud with anyone but Skeet, who is old and understanding.
How did I ever think I could actually sing songs for Jesus?
This whole scenario is so unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Levi has probably loved Jesus all his life. Prays every day. Goes to church every Sunday. “Our love for Jesus isn’t the same, Levi.”
He sets his guitar down, slips off the stool and walks toward me. “Do you love Him?”
I swallow as he comes closer. “Yes.”
“Why are you whispering? We’re the only two people here.”
He’s now standing in front of me, making it that much harder for me to concentrate. Levi is a really hot guy who can’t understand how uncomfortable this conversation is for me.
“I didn’t mean to whisper. It just came out.”
“Be loud.”
I laugh. “Being loud has gotten me in trouble.”
He nods. “It has.” He taps my nose with his index finger. “You have to be loud about the right things.”
How can I be loud about the right things when I don’t know what the right things are? I mean I’m learning, but I’ve been in such a Summer bubble my whole life, this is going to take some getting used to. “It’s a process.”
He steps back a couple of steps. “Yes, it is. So what’s your vote? Are we working together or not?”
Now that he’s not so close maybe I can think a little clearer. “I have a vote?”
“How else are we going to know if we are gelling?”
“If you vote one way, and I vote another, then it’s a tie.”
“I’m the tie-breaker.” Skeet’s voice breaks into our conversation.
I turn to find him walking toward us.
“And I vote yes. I heard you two. You were onto somethin’. Levi, she’s good for you.”
Levi turns from me, walking back to his stool. He picks up his guitar, which I’m beginning to think is like comfort food to him.
Summer's Song Page 4