Once he leaves, I won’t get to see him again until Kelly’s wedding. That’s a whole month. I already miss him and he’s not even gone yet. He catches me watching him across the bar and gives me a smile as his voice continues to float through the room, mesmerizing everyone but especially me. A long sigh leaves my body as I try to push away the thought of being without him for a month and get back to work.
* * *
KELLY PUSHES the door closed tightly and flips the lock after pushing the last few stragglers out of the bar. It’s after one in the morning, and we’re feeling a little anxious knowing this is Justin’s last night. “Thank fucking hallelujah! I thought they were never going to leave!”
“Amen, sister!” I call out in agreement and then pull our standard five dollars out of the tip jar and slap it on the bar. I look at Kelly and grin as she walks up and swipes it off the counter.
She surprises me when she stops in front of Justin and thrusts the money out to him. “I think you should do the honors, Justin, since it’s your last night and all.”
My heart swells a little, thinking it may actually be the nicest thing Kelly’s done or said to Justin since we’ve been dating. He looks at her, uncertainty in his expression, as he slides the money out from her fingers. “You sure? This is your and Syd’s thing.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” She walks away quickly, which I know is her way of avoiding any further emotion over the issue. “Consider it my goodbye gift to you.”
“Gee, thanks, Kell.” His tone is a little sarcastic, but when he looks at me and pops his eyes wide in a ‘holy hell’ kind of look, I know he really is thankful. He walks over to the jukebox, and while he’s making his selections, Kelly and I start the nightly clean-up. We both freeze and look at each other, then at him, when the first notes of the song he plays come blaring over the speakers.
He shrugs and gives us an aloof smile. “You didn’t think I was going to spend my last night without one more rendition of “Crazy” by you two, did you?”
Kelly and I screech, yelling how much we love him, and then scramble to the dance floor for our weekly ritual of butchering Patsy Cline, as Justin looks on and laughs. I really, really love that man.
When the song ends, Kell and I get back to cleaning up the bar, and Justin packs up his gear, and when we’re done, we all finally sit at one of the tables and have a drink together. We talk about the fun we’ve had each weekend, which fan might be Justin’s craziest, and laugh at all the things we’ll miss about working together. About twenty minutes in, the familiar sounds of “Linger” come over the speakers, and Justin’s gaze sweeps and locks on mine.
Kelly rises from the table, makes an excuse about going to start the dishwasher, and exits the room quickly. We both stand and move in tandem over to the dance floor, his arms enveloping me in a tight embrace before we slowly sway to the music.
“What am I going to do without you in my arms for the next month?” His voice is a whisper in my ear as he pulls me even closer.
I just shake my head, my voice lost as I fight the tears forming in my eyes. I know this isn’t forever. Four weeks really isn’t a long time. But, we’ve spent every night of the last four months together, so I know not having his chest to fall against each night is going to be an adjustment. His hand slithers between us and under my chin to lift my face, his lips sealing over mine in a sweet kiss. I savor the kiss, wanting to burn it to memory; the way his lips are always so warm, so soft, and leave mine tingling as we pull apart.
His lips move to my ear. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”
I’m still not able to find my voice so I simply shake my head no.
“I do.”
I shake my head again, the tears now falling freely from my eyes. He stops moving and cradles my face in his hands, kissing away the salty trails and then my closed eyelids.
“I love you so much, Syd. We’ll be together again before you know it.”
When I finally open my eyes and nod my head, my words come out hoarse. “I love you, too. So much. I’m already counting the days.”
BROOKLYN IS KIND OF AMAZING. I never thought in a million years I would feel so at home in a place that doesn’t have a single cow or barn in a thirty-mile radius. My friend Andrea set me up with a loft apartment in the Bushwick neighborhood for the bargain price of twenty-five hundred bucks a month. It’s pretty small, but when Sydney comes, we’ll look for a bigger place to settle into.
Not having Sydney here with me is the only thing that makes this move hard. We’ve spoken every day on the phone, usually several times a day, actually, and I think we’ve given new meaning to burning up the phone lines during our nightly Facetime chats. But we’re ten days in and only have twenty-three to go until Kelly’s wedding.
I’m going to fly back for the wedding, and then we’ll both drive back out in Syd’s car. I didn’t bring my truck, knowing I could get around anywhere with the subway, but she’s adamant about having her own vehicle. She might change her mind once she discovers how much parking is around here, but I’ll let her figure that out on her own.
Right now, I’m headed to the studio to work out a few more tracks with Andrea. We’ve only laid down two so far, but I think it’s going pretty well. He likes what I have but wants me to try to dig down a little and see if I can’t come up with a few deeper songs. Acoustic songs, like “Perfect” and “Let Her Go” are all the rage right now. Not having Sydney in my arms every night is definitely giving me good material to write about, so I feel good about hammering out some new stuff for him.
The square, two-story building comes into view, and I stop in front of the black door with simple, white lettering stating Rambling Recording, the only thing indicating anything musical about the place. After ringing the buzzer, I wait for the lock to release and then make my way inside. Andrea’s sitting behind the large mixing board listening to someone else play right now, so settle in one of the small music rooms.
I take out my guitar and, with Sydney on my mind, start playing some of the chords I put together for one of her poems. I want to surprise her and play it at Kelly’s wedding. I’m not sure how long I’ve actually been in the room and am startled when Andrea claps his hands as I croon out the last notes of the song for Syd.
“Man, that song is amazing! Exactly what I wanted to hear from you!” He claps me on the back and sits across from me. “Play it again. I want to hear it from the beginning.”
I stare at him for a minute, not sure how to explain that it’s not my song, not my words, and that it’s for someone else, but his enthusiasm gets in the way, and the reason I’m playing the song gets buried in his insistence at its quality. “Come on, man, no overthinking here; just play it. It’s good, I’m telling you straight up!”
My fingers seem to have a mind of their own as they strum the melody to the song again, my voice singing her words, the sound drowning out all common sense. When I’m done, he yells loudly, pumps his fist in the air, and jumps around in a circle. “That’s going to be a hit, man! I can feel it in my bones!”
I smile and nod my head earnestly, the praise a feeling I need and seem to crave since I’ve started working with him. “Thanks, A.”
“Tell me you’ve got some more like that!” He sits on the stool beside me, his knee bouncing wildly as he taps his foot non-stop against the floor. His energy is palpable and contagious, feeding and heightening the drive already pumping through my veins.
“I’ve got something else.” I flip through the pages of my notebook and play the cords I recently put together for the “Choices” poem that Syd wrote. I mean, I know these are her words, but it’s my music, and it’s my music that makes them a song, so what I’m doing doesn’t feel entirely wrong. As I watch A’s face light up, any feelings of guilt wash away in his excitement and encouragement.
Later that night, I’m home alone in the loft, missing every single thing about Sydney, and smile when I see her number come up on my phone. “Hey, babe. I was just thi
nking about you. I’m missing you hard tonight.”
“Hey. I miss you, too. So much. The days at the library seem so long now that I know I’m not coming home to you.”
“Not too much longer, though. Only twenty-three more days.” I walk over to the calendar I have on the wall and mark another X in the countdown to Kelly’s wedding.
“I know, and next week is my last at the library. I’ll be crazy busy helping Kell with all the wedding stuff after that, so it should go by fast.”
“Everything all set for the bachelorette party this weekend?” I ask, not really wanting to know all the details, but still wanting to be supportive.
“Ugh, yes. She’s driving me crazy with all her silly rules, though.” She lets out a long sigh. “I’ll be happy when it’s over. Anyway, how was your day? Did you work on anything new with Andrea?”
“It was really good actually. He heard a couple new songs and really liked them, so we’re going to work on recording them over the next couple days.”
“That’s awesome, babe!” I hear her clap her hands in happiness and my heart contracts painfully, reminding me that I’m not telling her the whole truth. I pretend to myself that it’s because I still want to surprise her at the wedding, but deep down, I know I should tell her right now that the songs are actually hers. “When can I hear them?”
“Soon, baby, soon.” My answer says more to me than it does to her, but I swallow and try to tamp down the guilt I feel, wanting success it seems at any cost.
* * *
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I walk out of the arrivals terminal at JFK airport and almost giggle with glee when I see a man in a dark suit holding a sign with my name on it. If this doesn’t make me feel like I’ve arrived, I’m not sure what does. I walk up to him, a wide grin that is impossible to wipe off my face, stretching my cheeks. “I’m Ms. Porter.” I point to myself in case it’s not clear. “Sydney Porter.”
His brows rise sardonically as he lowers the sign and his gaze does a quick sweep down my attire. I’m wearing one of my standard librarian work outfits, thinking it was appropriate for a book meeting. The publisher called yesterday and asked if I’d be available to fly in for a meeting with them to discuss numerous things about the book. I was able to get my library hours covered easily enough, and Kelly’s party isn’t until Friday, so here I am.
It was so hard not to tell Justin last night that I’d be coming today, but I really want to surprise him. I’m only meeting with the publication house this afternoon, so I have all of tonight and tomorrow to spend with him. My heart flutters and my insides turn to mush when I think about seeing him again. Only a few more hours.
“Do you have any baggage, Ms. Porter?” He looks in the direction of the baggage claim area and back at me.
“Oh no.” I pull at the small carry-on I have with me. “It’s just this. Only a quick trip, you see.”
He nods, brows rising again, and moves to take the bag from me. “Yes, I see.”
I release my hold on the bag and then follow behind him as he rolls it out of the airport and to a waiting town car. He helps me into the back seat and then loads the luggage into the trunk. Once he’s settled in the driver’s seat, he pulls out into traffic. “Ms. Porter, is there a hotel you’re checking in to, or am I bringing you straight to the publishing house?”
“Oh, I’m staying in Brooklyn with my boyfriend while I’m here. I’m surprising him.” I’m babbling, and I know it, but I’m full of nervous energy and can’t seem to stop myself. “So, you can just take me to the office.”
“Lovely. Thank you.” His tone is dry and offers not one bit of comfort. I want so badly to phone Justin and tell him about the meeting and that I’m here, but that would ruin the surprise. Instead, I sit and squirm in my seat for just a bit longer.
Five long hours later, I gather all my notes from the meetings, find my luggage, and make my way out of the building. The meetings were amazing, and I can’t wait to tell Justin all about them. I walk to the sidewalk and throw my hand out, trying to pretend I’ve hailed a cab a thousand times. I’ve actually watched pretty much every episode of “Sex and the City” and hope I’m channeling Carrie Bradshaw effectively.
I’m delighted when a cab comes to a halt next to me, and clap my hands at my success. I can do this New York City stuff! I open the door and slide into the seat, pulling my bag in beside me as I slam the door shut. “Rambling Recording Studio in Brooklyn, please.”
“Jesus Christ, lady. You’re going to fucking Brooklyn? Just my luck. You know how much that’s gonna cost ya? Maybe you should just take the subway.” His bloodshot eyes are staring angrily at me from the rearview as he waits for me to respond.
“I’ve got the fare, and I prefer a taxi. Let’s go.” I state, pretending to be much braver than I really feel.
“How ‘bout a real address then, babe. You don’t seriously think I’m going to know where some studio in Brooklyn is, do ya?” He’s already pulling into traffic, so I feel like I’ve won a small victory, even if I screwed up with the address. I pull it up quickly on my phone and rattle it off to him.
“Damn yuppies. Too good for the subway,” he responds, muttering some more about what a pain in the ass it is going to Brooklyn at four in the afternoon on a weekday and how I better give him a good tip. I drown him out as I take in the city sights, my stomach somersaulting with nerves as we get closer and closer.
He finally pulls up in front of a short, square building, announcing we’re here. I look and, sure enough, see the lettering on the door for Rambling Recording. “It’s fifty-three bucks, lady.”
I pull three twenties from my wallet, shove them in the pocket in the plexiglass separating us, and tell him to keep the change. I get out of the car, pulling my suitcase behind me, and reach for the handle, frowning when it doesn’t turn. I take out my phone and look at the time. It’s a little before five, but Justin told me he’s usually at the studio until seven or eight most nights.
I jump when a voice crackles out at me from a box near the door. “Who ya looking for?”
I lean over and speak loudly into the box. “I’m here to see Justin Jeffries.”
“You don’t have to yell.” I hear a loud switch on the lock of the door and swing my gaze to it. “Pull the door open, sweetie.”
Oh my God, I must look like a complete moron. I grip the handle, pull, and nod like a dummy when the door swings open. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark hallway once the door slams behind me, but when they do, I walk forward toward a light I see at the end of the hall. As I get closer, I recognize Justin’s voice, and I pick up speed, not wanting to wait another minute to see him.
The light is spilling out from a large window, illuminating two men sitting behind a huge board filled with enough switches and toggles to make anyone’s mind spin. And beyond them, behind another glass wall, Justin sits on a stool, playing his guitar, singing into a mic.
I leave my luggage outside the room and then quietly open the door and step into the room with the two men. I’m assuming one of them must be Andrea. They don’t hear me enter, so I just stand and listen, my head tilted as I do. Something sounds familiar, but I don’t recognize the music, so I know this must be one of his new songs. His eyes are closed as he sings, so he still hasn’t seen me, which gives me more time to listen.
* * *
Stop the shit
you’re stinking up the mix I’m making
In the state of my mind
alaska go ask her
In your arms I feel safe
But you try to keep me awake
then I go and sleep tight
* * *
I TAKE in a sharp breath and hold it as the lyrics he just sang hit home. Alaska, go ask her? These are my words. I remember writing this poem and trying to think of a faraway place a person might go to collect their state of mind. How the hell did he get my poem? I scoff in anger and then cover my mouth as the two men turn around, finally realizing I’
m in the room. One of them stands and turns to me. “Oh, hey, sorry. Didn’t see you there. Can I help you?”
My eyes fly from the man and through the glass to Justin, who has stopped singing and is staring out at me, a look of surprised joy on his face. I point to the window and then shake my finger no as I back out of the room. I watch as his face changes from joy to fear, and then turn and flee from the building.
* * *
MY HEART STOPS in my chest when I open my eyes and see Sydney standing in the room with Andrea and Mike. Joy zings through my body. She’s here! I move to put the guitar down, but then freeze when I actually notice the expression on her face and then see her wave her finger no in dismissal at me. Every ounce of joy immediately thickens to heavy fear as I watch her turn and run out of the room.
I bolt from the room, slamming the door into the wall as I do, and run down the hall after her, Andrea yelling behind me, asking if everything is okay. I burst through the exit and onto the street and see her walking down the sidewalk, away from the building. I jog until she’s in hearing range and call after her. “Syd! Stop!”
This only causes her to pick up her pace, which pushes my jog into a run until I’m close enough to reach out and grab her arm. I stop and spin her around. “Sydney, please stop!”
Her face is flushed an angry red, and her eyes are on fire as she looks down at my hand and then directly at me. She growls at me through clenched teeth. “Let go of my arm right now, Justin.”
I open my hand and release it but move to step in front of her, blocking her way. “Syd, talk to me. What are you doing here? Do you know how happy I am to see you?” I try to pull her into my arms, but she shoves me away.
Love Notes Page 11