by Claire Adams
I looked down at her. She really wanted me to do it. Part of me wanted to, as well, but I also didn't want to deal with fucking up.
Oddly, I believed her. I felt comforted by how much faith she had in the fact that I could do it. She believed in me. She was supporting me. So many people had no idea how important support was. It was literally the difference between me doing this shit and not. Having someone on your side who believed in you? That was fucking priceless.
"Doing it alone makes it feel like the band's really gone, you know? Like there was a chance we would get back together, but now that's gone."
"Maybe doing this tonight will help you decide whether being with your band is something you want in your life again, after all," she suggested. I shrugged. She had a point. We left the room together, early because I had to go get ready, and stayed together until I had to go backstage.
Everything I saw, heard, and felt blurred into one big cloud of background noise that was buzzing in the back of my head. I wasn't going first. The lineup had been shuffled around so that I was going second to last. At least I wasn't closing out the show, I thought.
This could have been worse. I hadn't really gotten many notes or restrictions as far as what they'd let me do. It just had to be acoustic because the backing band couldn't learn everything they needed in one day in order to back me up, which was fine. I wasn't nervous enough to have to take a shot of something first, but I was getting there.
When it came time for me to take the stage, the audience clapped me on pretty strong. Some of them might have remembered me from the first performance.
It was weird being the only one, at least I was doing something familiar: playing. I started easy, with something I had played to death already: the first song I ever wrote for Remus. It was about the only thing I could write about when I was that young: my mom.
Being behind the piano was easy for me. My hands knew what to play. I'd sung the words so many times there was no way I'd forget them. The crowd wasn't lit like the stage, and we weren't inside, so there were no house lights. I couldn't see Abby any of the times I looked out into the crowd for her. I knew she was there; it wasn't that. I just wanted to see her. I wanted to watch her again when I sang the song I had written for her.
The crowd went wild when I was finished. I nodded and waved. This was never the reason I had gotten into music, but I wasn't going to lie, it felt good to get immediate feedback like that from an audience about your music. The nerves had died at some point between the first and second songs, and now I just wanted to see what Abby thought.
I went backstage, walking down the steps. Abby's beaming face was looking up at me. I smiled seeing her. So that was why I hadn't seen her in the crowd.
"Did you watch the set?"
"You were amazing," she said. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. We were together most of the time, but I didn't know whether anyone really knew we were together, besides Makani and Keno. A few people came up to say they liked the performance and shake my hand.
I hadn't realized it before, but I had sort of missed performing. I liked this feeling. Not being in a huge stadium, performing for thousands of people, but something like this where everyone could see the stage and if they wanted to, could come talk to you after. I heard someone call my name and saw Joseph walking over to us.
"Another fantastic show," he said, grinning.
"Thanks. It’s a great crowd you guys have here," I said. I didn't know whether or not I should have taken my arms off of Abby. If it was a problem, I didn't want to be the reason why she got in trouble.
"If you're ever looking for a job, you're welcome to perform, whenever you want." I laughed a little.
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I said.
"Will you really?" Abby asked looking up at me. I winked at her, smiling. The more I thought about it, the more it sounded like a great idea.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Abby
It was getting hard to name things that I enjoyed more than waking up next to Nate.
I had never felt like such a chick in all my life. Nobody had ever made me feel so happy about being close to them. This was different from regular friendship. Nate was someone I was beginning to doubt that I could live without. I was doing my best not to think about the end that was coming, whether or not we wanted it, and it was getting easier.
Taking it a day at a time, concentrating on what we were doing and not wondering when it was going to end was the only thing I could do. Stopping this again was completely off the table. I wasn't going to be the reason why our days together were cut shorter than they had to be.
I was going to treat this like what I felt it was: a new relationship that had completely changed my life. I was going to let myself be excited and happy because, damn it, I was.
I loved his company. I loved doing things with him, and if I was spending all my time with him wondering when it was that I would have to be without him, then neither of us were going to have a good time.
I balanced the tray of food I had brought up from downstairs precariously against one hip as I opened his door. I could have called to have the food brought up, but I still had a job I had to report for daily.
Every day I got to spend with Nate was like an unofficial day off. I knew most of the reason why was because Joseph was so sweet on him, but I was taking full advantage of that. Anything that let me spend as much time with him as possible was a good thing as far as I was concerned.
I walked into the suite and took the tray with me to the bedroom instead of leaving it in the dining area. Who didn't love breakfast in bed? He was still asleep. He had gotten better about getting up earlier now, but I was still up before he was nine times out of ten. He was asleep on his stomach, and I knew underneath the covers he was naked, the way I had been when I had been under there with him.
He was so gorgeous, sometimes I found myself staring. How many people wished they had this view every morning? I could have watched him longer, but we had things to do. We were going snorkeling. All this time on the island, and he still hadn't gone.
I pulled the drapes open and got his swimsuit and a t-shirt out, then came back to the bed jumping onto it. I yanked the covers off his sleeping body.
"Nate... Nate... Nate?"
"Huh?" he grunted, waking up.
"Wake up, it's morning," I said excitedly. He opened his eyes and squinted up at me.
"What time is it?"
"Time to eat; I brought you breakfast," I said, swatting his ass. I crawled over his body to get the tray. "Drink this before it gets cold," I told him, holding the cup of coffee out to him. He rolled over so he was sitting and took the cup.
"Have you eaten already?" he asked me.
"Mm-hmm, while you were still asleep," I teased him. "We're losing daylight, Stone. We need to get on the water."
"Is snorkeling one of those things you have to do in the morning or else all the fish are gone or something?"
"No. I just wish you liked hanging out with me as much as you liked to hang out here," I said.
"You should just stay here with me then," he said, putting the cup down and holding my hand, pulling me back onto the bed with him. I giggled, falling into his lap.
"If only you were this excited to get out once in a while," I said, feeling his penis against my hip. "Come on, have something to eat so we can leave." I kissed him and wriggled off of his lap. He sighed and had his coffee, asking me to eat with him.
"I'm sure I'll love it," he said, eating a piece of toast.
"It's incredible. It's like visiting another planet," I gushed.
"I don't think I've met anyone who was this excited about fish before," he laughed.
"It's not just fish, it's everything. Turtles, coral, mollusks," I said. He was smiling, nodding patiently.
"They all sound delicious," he said. I frowned at him, making him laugh.
There was just something about the bottom of the ocean. It felt like being inside
another universe or being in a beautiful picture or photograph. It was this beauty that seemed like it wasn't real, even when you were looking at it with your own eyes.
He had a shower and finally got dressed. We were lucky because the resort was right on the marine reserve. The water was perfect and clear and always full of life; we didn't have to go any further than Hulopoe Beach, the one he could see from his suite.
On one hand, I was running out of things that I could show him around the island, but on the other, I was getting to be with him when he experienced so many things for the first time.
I loved being the one who got to give him that. It was sort of dumb to think he would never have in his life if it wasn't for me. This was one vacation out of his whole life, but so much had changed for him already. It felt like this was him starting over, and I was getting to be with him as he did.
We were out on the beach, on board the excursion catamaran that was going to take us on a day-long ride around the bay, stopping at various snorkel sites where we could explore the reefs.
Some of the other guests were on the trip in the boat, and Nate was relaxed the whole time, talking to them, laughing, and making conversation. This was a new man. Sitting next to him, feeling him hold my hand when I slid it into his, I felt like I was getting the guy he was when he was relaxed, happy, and sober.
I loved the change I had seen in him, not because it made me happy per se, but because he laughed so much easier and felt so much freer — like he was getting what he had come to Lanai to get.
The water was pretty warm since it was summer. I had worried a little that maybe he would be the type that didn't like open water or didn't like swimming, but he wasn't. The only thing I regretted about choosing snorkeling was that we couldn't talk at the same time as being under water.
It was beautiful, of course, as I had predicted. He stayed close to me the entire time, asking how I liked it and making sure I was having a good time, like I wasn't the one who had brought him out today. It felt like a date. We had been out on them before, but both times had been a little more private. The dinner we had in the city was just us, he had rented out an entire restaurant, and the time at my house we were with Keno and Makani, two of my closest friends.
It felt like we were going public, sort of. It was dumb. I had never done this with anyone before. I didn't know if I was supposed to be feeling this giddy and happy with him, but I was, and I didn't want it to stop. He would hold my hand or put his arm around me, kiss me. I hoped that meant it wasn't just me who was feeling like this. I didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but I didn't have a lot of other options to call this besides love.
It was only around four in the afternoon when we sailed back to the dock. We had spent the day together, and I still didn't want it to end. He had held my hand helping me off the catamaran and still hadn't let go. We walked slowly on the beach, fingers laced together.
"Did you want to do anything this evening?" I asked him.
"There's more?"
"There's your suite or my house," I suggested, inviting him over.
"Your place is closer. Did I leave anything behind the last time I was over?" he asked.
I smiled to myself. The only reason why he would ask something like that was if he was planning on staying the night. We walked the short stretch to my house and took turns under the shower. He was standing with a towel wrapped around his waist at my small bookshelf, looking at something when I came out of the shower.
"Abby?" he said. I was grabbing some clothes out of my closet.
"Hmm?"
"What the hell?" he said. I turned and saw him holding a CD. His CD. Well, his band's CD. Their first independent record. He didn't really sound mad, just surprised. "You didn't tell me you were a fan."
"You didn't need to hear that from me. I'm sure people always tell you they listen to your stuff," I said, pulling a tank top and shorts on.
"I would have actually wanted to know. Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. I walked over to him with a pair of his underwear that had gotten left here during one of his visits.
"Would that have changed the way that you spoke to me?"
"Probably," he said honestly.
"That was why. I didn't want you to care that I was a fan. You were on vacation. You didn't need to have to watch your back and be paranoid about what I wanted whenever I would speak to you or if I would try to steal your stuff and sell it on eBay."
"What's your favorite track?" he asked. I smirked looking up at him.
"They were all a little blah. Not really my thing," I said, dismissively. He laughed, sensing that I was making fun of him.
"As long as you like this record more than the second one, you're good," he said, sitting on my bed. I joined him.
"What's wrong with the second one?"
"Did you listen to it?" he asked. I nodded.
"Didn't it sound a little off to you?"
"It sounded different," I supplied.
"That was because it was our first with a major label. What they don't tell you when you work with them is that they care more about the money than the records they're making. They make music that they can sell. They produced the hell out of our sound. They rewrote lyrics, chopped up tracks, and changed the music. They did a hack job on my songs."
"That's why you left?"
"One of the reasons. I want to make the stuff that I care about, you know? Yeah, the music industry doesn't exist unless people are buying music, but shouldn't you care about the music you actually make? Make something that you aren't ashamed to ask people to pay for?"
"You don't have to work in the industry if you don't like it," I said.
"That's the thing. I do, at least some parts of it. I love the collaboration, creativity, the people who are really artists, whose music comes from somewhere real... I like that."
"Then make your own music on your own terms," I suggested. "You're a talented musician, and you're passionate. That has to be more than a lot of people already working in the industry even have."
"You really think I could do it?" he asked. I nodded vigorously. He smiled. "I was talking to my dad a while ago, and he was telling me something similar."
"You should take his advice," I said.
"He said I needed to take this time off to think about what I wanted, but I think I've known what I wanted all along."
I sighed a little. Time off, he said. That was what this was for him. He was going back at some point. A desperate thought flashed through my head, a frantic what if. What if he could stay? No, Abby, I thought. Get a grip; he had a life before he came here, and it's waiting for him back in LA.
"You want a solo career?" I asked, snapping out of my fantasy.
"I want to write my own stuff. If I collaborate, I want to do it with people I trust, who aren't fucking leeches trying to make as much money as they can on worthless noise."
"You've always wanted to make music, haven't you?" I asked. He smiled like he was remembering something.
"My first memories of being alive involve music. Music was the way my mom and I used to bond. It was the thing I felt was mine. All the best times of my life were set to music. Notes and melodies just made sense to me," he said.
I could hear the passion in his voice. I couldn't imagine how fulfilling making music was for him, but I was happy there was something that shone so bright in his life.
That was why he had to go back to LA. He would be miserable any other way. I would be miserable without him, but some things in life were replaceable. Others weren't. I fought what I was feeling to be happy for him.
"Guess your dad was right then," I said lightly.
"Guess he was."
I made sandwiches for us to eat at dinner, and we ended up turning in fairly early. He was asleep before I was, pressed into my back with his arm around my waist. I laced our fingers together and snuggled harder into him.
How much longer would I be able to do that? I had to remind myself every day to focus on the
present with Nate, but with the end in sight, it was getting harder and harder to do.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Nate
My phone was ringing. What fucking time was it? It was so early in the morning. I opened my eyes and saw Abby's sleeping body beside mine. I turned and looked at the bedside table where my phone was, next to the lamp. I slid out of the bed so I didn't wake her and went to the bathroom. Today was one of those rare mornings I seemed to be up first.
I squinted at the number, but didn't know whose it was. I put the phone to my ear, closing the bathroom door.
"Hello?" I asked, clearing my throat.
"Nate Stone?" the person asked. I frowned.
"Yeah?"
"My name is Wes Barry. I've been trying to reach you for weeks. I'm a producer here in LA." I narrowed my eyes.
"Well, you found me. What do you want?"
"I know some of the guys who worked on your last record," he said. "I was wondering if we could talk."
"What the fuck about?" I asked, running the water and splashing some on my face. I heard Wes Barry laugh over the phone.
"Everyone's talking about you, Nate. You wouldn't believe the rumors they're telling about you."
"If the rumor is that I ran away to Hawai'i to join a cult and I'm never coming back, they're true."
"I wanted to hear it from you, Nate. Are you ever going back to Remus?" he asked.
"Why do you care?"
"Because I think the answer is no. And if that is the case, I have an offer for you — if you're interested, of course." An offer, huh?
"What kind of offer?" I asked.
"Your own music, however you want it. I know your sound, and I like it. I know what I heard off your second album with your band and that wasn't it."
"So what do you want to do about that?"
"I want to sell your music. I have a contract here for you I think you'll really like. Tell me where to send it, and you can have it by tonight."
"I'm not looking at offers right now."
"You'll want to see this, Nate."
"How many records would I owe you?"