A Beat in Time

by Gasq-Dion, Sandrine

I snickered.

  ~*~

  I sat looking at the view of Central Park from my apartment. The sun was rising, warming the joggers on the paths below. I sipped my coffee and took a long look around my apartment. Boxes lined one wall and most of my furniture was in the hallway. I was moving back home to Arizona after fifteen years of being away. I was still not sure I was ready for that. I sighed and closed my eyes.

  Going home meant seeing all the old places I used to hang out at and memories I’d rather forget. I’d worked my ass off to become an author, to make my dream of hitting it big one day come true. Now it felt as if I was taking a step back. I knew that sounded ridiculous, but going back to Arizona almost felt like I was throwing in the towel when I wasn’t. My doorbell rang and I pushed off the couch, crossing the room. I looked through the peephole and groaned, Ann looked back at me.

  “Open the door! I’ve brought you a bagel.”

  I opened the door and Ann sauntered past me. A low whistle left her lips as she took a look around my place.

  “Are you sure you want to give this up to me?” Ann asked.

  “I’m sure.” I walked into the kitchen to refill my mug. Ann followed me in and opened the fridge, peering inside.

  “I can’t believe you’re actually moving back to Arizona.”

  “It’s time, Ann. My mom isn’t getting any younger and I want to be close to her and my dad.”

  Ann studied me closely. “Why does it look like you’ve just been handed a death sentence then?”

  “It’s not that, it’s just that Arizona holds some bad memories for me. Some good ones too, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve stayed away for a reason.”

  “This has to do with a guy, doesn’t it?” Ann lifted a questioning brow.

  I walked back to my floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out at the rising sun. Ann came to stand at my side.

  “Maybe this is just what you need to do.”

  “Maybe,” I shrugged.

  Ann looked over her shoulder with a smile. “So, is that a weight baring beam that holds the chandelier?”

  “I would think so,” I said, brows furrowing. “Why?”

  “I’m thinking of installing a sex swing.” Ann waggled her brows.

  “God. I so don’t want to know what you do in this place once I’m gone.”

  My doorbell rang and Ann and I looked at each other. I crossed the room and checked the peephole. I smiled as two of my beta readers, Steve and Rick, stood on the other side, one of them with his eyeball right in my peephole. Well now, that sounded dirty…

  “Open up, Precious!” Steve called out. “You’re not leaving us without a proper good bye!”

  I chuckled. I didn’t have too many friends in my life, but the ones I did have I kept close. Ann and my editor, Joelle, and my high school friend, Amanda, topped my list of closest people in my life besides my family. Rick and Steve were up on that list as well.

  I opened the door and Rick plowed into me, hugging me tightly. I loved these guys. I met them within a week of coming to New York when I was trolling gay bars.

  I was taking notes.

  Don’t judge me.

  “Princess!” Steve air-kissed my cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re leaving us!”

  “You better come visit.” I pointed at them both. “What would I do without my sex-scene readers?”

  “Never hit number one again?” Steve blew me a kiss.

  “Just when we found the perfect man for you too!” Rick sighed.

  “Is he gay?” I lifted a brow.

  “No, his name is Troy.”

  I laughed as we all went into the line from Steel Magnolias.

  “All gay men have track lighting, and all gay men are named Mark, Rick, or Steve.”

  Which is doubly funny seeing as my two gay beta readers are named Rick and Steve.

  Steve pulled me into a hug and I wrapped my arms around him. These were my friends. The ones that had held my hair back when I puked from drinking too much. My life was about to drastically change and suddenly I was scared.

  “You’ll be fine, hon. I have faith in you,” Steve whispered.

  I smiled at my friends. I was glad they had faith in me, because right now I didn’t have much in myself. I’d always been strong minded, I just needed to remember the kind of woman I was now. We had a group hug and I watched them leave with an ache in my chest. I was leaving my comfort zone.

  God, let me get through this.

  Chapter 2

  I rolled over and almost fell off the bed. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. It was still dark out, but my body was wide awake. I threw my legs over the bed and picked up my slippers, shaking them out before slipping them on. Tip toeing out of my room, I quietly entered the kitchen and pressed the on button of the coffee machine. I took a look around the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief. I was home.

  Well, my mom’s house.

  After years of being away, I was finally home in Arizona. Living in New York had taken a toll on me, and the years of book tours had caught up. I needed a change, and when my mom called and begged me to come to Arizona, I’d relented. I gazed out the window at the sun trying to break the horizon. The mountains were covered in a mist of fog and a lavender hue was beginning to form. I took a cup out of the cabinet and stole some coffee from the still percolating coffee maker.

  Opening the back door softly, I stepped out into another world. The birds were already chirping, eating from the bird feeder my mother hung outside. A family of Quails passed by me as the babies tried to keep up. I smiled, blowing on my coffee as I sipped from it.

  “Good Morning!”

  I coughed as I inhaled coffee. “Mom! Jesus, you scared me!”

  “Still on New York time, are we?”

  I looked over my shoulder at my mother. It wasn’t as if I never saw her over the years I’d been gone, but my mother always seemed to look the same.

  “Yes, Mom, three hours ahead.”

  “How’s the coffee?”

  “Strong, just how I like it.”

  “Come inside, I’ll make you some crepes.”

  I groaned at the mention of crepes, it was my favorite food even now. The thin pancakes just weren’t the same in New York. I sat at the kitchen table as my mother went about whipping up the batter. My mother was full-blooded French, born in Algeria, and my father was born in Marseille, France. Both still spoke with a thick accent even though they’d lived in the U.S. for over thirty years.

  “How is your newest novel doing?” she asked.

  “Still number one.” I sipped my coffee, watching my mother. “Does dad still tell people I write gay porn?”

  “No. Now he says you write gay men in love.”

  “Well, that’s much better than porn,” I chuckled.

  “He’s very proud of you.”

  I swallowed hard. That meant more to me than anything. I’d fucked up royally most of my life. Especially after the breakup with Jensen. I’d shied away from men for a while and then I rebounded, badly. My first boyfriend after Jensen was a guy I met on the Internet. I moved to Seattle, Washington to be with him, but after six months, he showed his true colors. It started with name calling, then a shove, then a slap, and by the time I realized what was going on, I’d been alienated from anyone close to me. I didn’t have a college degree and I worked at a convenience store at night, so it wasn’t like I could just leave. I had nowhere to go. After one particularly hard night, I broke down and called a friend. I moved across the country to get away from him. And from that day forward, I never let myself be tethered to a man. Be it money or anything else.

  “Serena?”

  “Yes, Mom?”

  “I asked if you’d looked for a house.”

  “No, not yet. You know I don’t want to buy anything.”

  “Of course not, you have gypsy blood. That is why you don’t stay in one place too long. How will you ever find a man if you can’t settle down?”

  “Maybe I don’t want a man, Mom.”r />
  My mother snorted and waved a hand in the air. “Every woman needs a hard dick now and then.”

  I choked on my coffee and coughed. My eyes widened as my mother turned to me with a grin.

  “Jesus, Mom! Warn a girl!”

  My mom brought a plate of crepes over and sprinkled sugar on them. I sat down and placed napkins in front of both of us. I took one off the plate and bit into perfection.

  “Sooo good.” I closed my eyes in bliss.

  “You have not had a serious boyfriend in years, Serena. I am worried for you.”

  “Mom,” I sighed. “Do we have to have this conversation? I know you want grandkids, but I’m not ready for that.”

  “You have not been yourself since the age of nineteen, Serena. I won’t push, but I do wish you would tell me what was so bad that changed you so much. I am not worried about grandchildren. Your sister and brother have given me plenty of those.” My mother peered into my eyes. “You can talk to me.”

  “I can’t, Mom, okay?”

  “When was your last relationship?”

  My brows furrowed as I tried to think back. “Maybe four months ago?”

  “What was wrong with him?”

  I leveled a look at my mother and decided to shock her. “Mom, he couldn’t find my G spot with a map, compass, and night vision goggles.”

  “Maybe you should have bought him a kiki mechanique?”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “How you say? Vibrator? Then maybe he could have found it.”

  “Oh. My. God. I can’t talk to you,” I laughed.

  “Your father and I—”

  I stood up from the table. “I’m going to go shower. Thank you for the crepes.”

  My mom’s laughter followed me out.

  ~*~

  I closed my eyes as the water rushed over my head. Talking about my life back then was not an option. I moved to the other side of the country to try to put that part of my life behind me. I stepped out of the shower to my cell phone ringing. I ran across the room and slid across the bed, grabbing it off the nightstand.

  “Hello?” I rasped, breathless.

  “Dumpling! Are you getting laid?”

  I chuckled.

  “Good morning, Ann. How is my favorite publisher doing?”

  “I’m fucking perfect! I’ve got my hot, Oolong tea and I got fucked hard this morning.”

  “I’m so happy for you,” I drawled.

  “Listen, pumpkin, the head honchos are bitching about a male/female book and I think you are the only one that can pull it off.”

  “I’m sorry, I could have sworn you said a male/female book.”

  “That’s right, sugar. A hetero!”

  “I don’t write heterosexual books, you know that.”

  “That’s because you forgot how to fuck,” Ann chuckled.

  “Whatever. Can’t you find someone else for this? What about J.R.?”

  “Nope, refuses to write hetero. Besides, as I’ve said, the head honcho big wig wants you to write it. You’re hot right now and we want some male/female lovers coming over to the dual dick side.”

  “How poetic.” I rolled my eyes.

  “So lookie here, we got a plot bunny bouncing around. What do you know about rock bands?”

  “I dated a drummer or two,” I admitted. “But as far as anything else, I’m clueless.”

  “Well, lucky for you, I’ve done my research. There’s a town in Arizona called Flagstaff, have you heard of it?”

  “Of course I have, I grew up here, and I always wanted to live in Flagstaff. They have actual seasons. What does that have to do with rock bands?”

  “That town is brimming with music. I’ve found a music store there where you can go research instruments and ask questions about certain brands the guys use. I’ve also hooked you up with drum and guitar lessons.”

  “Okayyyy. Why?”

  “I know you. You’ll want the full experience. You are known by your fans for researching the fuck out of shit.”

  “Do you kiss your fuck buddy with that mouth?”

  “Yep, he kisses my lips all the time too.”

  “Ugh. TMI.”

  “No such thing, sweet pea. I’m sending over some rental listings I think you might like and I’ve got an appointment lined up for you at the music store to meet your instructor.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute! I haven’t even said yes to all this! When am I supposed to be there?”

  “Next week, sugar plum. I’ll call you in a few days. Be good!”

  “Wait—”

  The call disconnected and I flopped back onto the bed with a pout. Write a heterosexual book? Were the big wigs smoking pot or something? I rolled over and punched the pillow, settling in comfortably. Flagstaff did sound appealing, though. I’d always wanted to move there when I was younger. I closed my eyes. Maybe coming home would help me face the past and finally open my heart to someone.

  “Yeah, right,” I mumbled.

  Chapter 3

  Over the course of the next few days, I looked over all the rentals Ann had picked out in Flagstaff. I made a few phone calls and tried to finish up my next novel that was already in the works. My mother had taken the news of my move well, which made me suspicious. My mother had pointed out that it wasn’t like I was moving out of state, just hours away. I bought a new car and had most of my things shipped to Flagstaff ahead of me. I picked up the phone and dialed a number I called once a month since I’d left Arizona. The line picked up and a cheerful voice floated over the line.

  “Bitch! Where are you?” Amanda laughed.

  “My Mom’s, what’s up with you?”

  “Nada. Just working. When are you bringing your ass to my house for Bacardi?”

  “This weekend on my way up to Flagstaff.”

  “What the hell? Why are you going there?”

  “Long story. I’ll tell you all about it when I get there.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. We need to have girl time.”

  “I’ll see you Friday, hooker.”

  ~*~

  As the weekend approached, I spent time with my dad. Giles Devane was a handsome man with dark hair and eyes that were currently searching my features. I knew my actions back in the day had taken a toll on him. I’d been reckless and disrespectful to the only man that had truly loved me. I took my father’s hand as we swung on the glider out front, watching the sunset.

  “How are you really, Serena?” My father asked.

  “I’m… I don’t know what I am anymore, Dad. I have success, but I feel empty.”

  “You need love in your life.”

  “I had love, Dad, then I lost it and I don’t think I can ever love again. I don’t ever want to feel that kind of pain.”

  “Oh, Honey.” My father turned in the glider and took my face in his hands. “Love is wonderful, you should have it. Does it hurt? Yes, it can, but the flip side is that it makes you a better person. I think that’s why you write your stories about men. You don’t have to think about your own love life and everyone else is happy.”

  I chuckled. “Maybe.”

  “I would like you to see a therapist.”

  “Dad…”

  “I know you think they are all full of shit.”

  “They don’t want to actually do their job, Dad. It’s ‘how about some Xanax’ and then the next thing you know, you’re addicted to pills that you take every day to stay happy. I don’t want that. I can take care of myself.”

  “Your mother and I will come see you next month. I am happy you are now in the same state.”

  “Me too, Dad.” I leaned against my father. “Me too.”

  My mother came out with a tray of cheese and bread and set it on the table next to us. She ran her fingers through my hair with a smile.

  “Look at you.”

  I took my mother’s hand as tears formed in her eyes. “Mom, don’t cry.”

  “Sabine, stop blubbering over her. She’s here, and let us just enj
oy it.”

  ~*~

  I drove into Tucson the following day to see my godmother, Ann Marie. The time I’d spent away from Tucson, I had missed out on seeing her as well. She was the one that told me I’d become a successful writer years before I actually did. Once she found out I was back, she called and asked me to come visit for a tarot card reading. I pulled up to her beautiful adobe house and parked in the drive way. The gate opened and my godmother stood smiling at me. I rushed to her and gave her a hug.

  “Tata!”

  Being French meant that you didn’t call anyone aunt or uncle, it was Tata or Tonton. Most of my relatives lived in France and constantly badgered me to come visit. I wouldn’t mind going back to Marseille, sit on the beach, watch the men—

  “Hi, sweet pea! It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you.”

  My godmother’s voice jarred me out of my fantasy of hot, naked French men.

  “I missed you, too.”

  She stepped back and looked at me from head to toe. “You look wonderful. Come inside!”

  I followed her inside and looked around the cozy house. A large sectional took up most of the living room. We continued on and she walked to the kitchen. I followed and stood by the island as she fixed us some tea.

  “I’m so glad you are home. Your mother missed you.”

  “I missed her too,” I admitted.

  We went and sat at the kitchen table. She brought a bowl of water and placed it off to the side, then unwrapped her tarot cards from a silk swath. She always insisted we didn’t talk about my life beforehand, she wanted the reading to be true without any influence. She placed her hands on the table and closed her eyes. I followed suit until a sigh left her lips and she began placing the cards face down on the table. I waited patiently as she surveyed all the cards. She flipped one over and studied it.

  “You will be reunited with your first love.” She looked over at me. “You must be open to this, Serena. You heart will never heal if you do not. You have success and a life, but you’re not really living it. I see a move to another city. The house you pick will be in need of some repair.”

  “Great, I can’t even pick a good house?” I groused.

  “It’s not the outside that counts, it is the inside. It will have a strong foundation. You are embarking on a new adventure with your career. Make sure you take the time to do your research.”