by Isabel Morin
She huffed out a laugh and shook her head, but she gave in. “Fine, you drive,” she said, handing him the keys. “I’ll be in charge of tunes.”
Beth took the music selection very seriously. So seriously in fact that he thought she might never pick a song.
“What about Neko Case?” she asked, frowning down at her iPod. “Or no. Maybe Ben Nichols.”
This had been going on for ten minutes.
“Beth, honey, just play something. Anything.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, and finally music started to play.
They drove along in companionable silence, except he was feeling a little too companionable. He’d had perfectly decent sex just last night, nothing spectacular, but it should have taken the edge off. Even still he was getting a little crazy sitting next to Beth.
She was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a plain white top. There was nothing overtly sexy about it, but just the fact that he could see miles of golden skin and toned muscle made his dick twitch.
“Do you run?” he asked.
“Huh?”
He cleared his throat. “I was just wondering if you were a runner. You look really…strong.”
“Oh. Um, no, not really. I run sometimes but I’m more of a swimmer. What about you?”
“I mountain bike when I can but that’s about it. My lifestyle doesn’t lend itself to the healthiest habits.”
“I suppose not. But you get a pretty good workout on stage every night.”
He just grunted. It was true, but sitting next to Beth, the picture of health and vitality, he felt like a gnarly vampire.
The album ended and Jesse suggested they try the radio.
“I suppose so,” she said, looking dubious. “If you think we’ll find anything good.”
“I can’t promise anything, but you can find some great new music through local stations, especially college radio,” he said. “You can’t be surprised if you only listen to your own music. Plus, I kind of like the idea that other people are hearing the same thing I am. It’s more communal, like at a show.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
He listened for a second to each station before moving on, looking for that special something.
“Wait! Go back,” she said. “I love that song.”
“‘Leather and Lace?’” he asked, turning back to the previous channel.
She didn’t bother to answer, just started singing along with Stevie Nicks, then with Don Henley when his verse came.
“You’re singing both parts,” he laughed.
“I always do.”
“Well, maybe before you didn’t have anyone else, but this is a duet. You stick to her part.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes.
The next beat she was singing along with Stevie, her voice carrying a similar husky quality.
Jesse listened to her finish her verse and then picked up his part. He sang it straight, not joking around like she probably expected him to. It was actually a pretty good song, though he’d never admit that to a guy. They blended perfectly, their voices playing off each other without effort. He liked how Beth sang without embellishing, letting the strong melody and her voice do the work.
“That was pretty good,” she grinned at him when the song ended. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“I am a singer, you know.”
“I know. I just figured you wouldn’t go for that sort of thing.”
Jesse shrugged. “I like a lot of different music. You won’t find me belting out ‘Desperado,’ but I can get behind a good ballad.”
“They were together for a while,” Beth said, looking very serious. “I think that’s why they sound so good. You can feel their chemistry.”
He was feeling some chemistry, too, and it wasn’t just between those two on the radio.
“Not many people know it, but Stevie Nicks wrote that song for Waylon Jennings,” he said.
“Really?”
“He asked her to write a song with that title for him and his wife, Jessie Coulter. She was a singer, too. But by the time she’d finished it, it was looking like Waylon and Jessie would be splitting up, so she recorded the song with Henley.”
“Huh. I wonder what it would have sounded like if Waylon Jennings had done it.”
“We’ll never know.”
They were quiet for a bit, listening to the radio. The station format seemed to be soft country and soon Beth was humming along to the Crystal Gayle song that came on.
“You sing like you know how to use your voice,” he observed.
She looked surprised. “I never took formal voice lessons or anything, but I was in chorus in school and then in an a cappella group in college. That was actually pretty demanding.”
“That would explain it.”
“I guess. I’ve always regretted not learning an instrument, though. I took piano lessons when I was little, but since my parents had to fight with me to get me to practice, they eventually stopped them.”
“What instrument would you play if you could?” he asked.
She frowned, thinking. “I guess probably the guitar since I’d be able to accompany myself singing and you can take it anywhere.”
“I could teach you.”
As soon as the offer was out of his mouth he could have kicked himself. He’d tried giving lessons years ago as a way of making extra money and he’d hated every second of it. He didn’t have the patience it took by a long shot. Nor did he have time for lessons while on tour. But the thought of sitting close to Beth, maybe even wrapping his arms around her to show her how to place her hands…
“Thanks, but that’s okay. We both have other things we need to be doing.”
Disappointment warred with relief at this, but he let it go. They drove without talking much after that, and his mind wandered back over the show last night and forward to that night’s. He’d played Santa Cruz last year with another band and it had gone well, but he was expecting – hoping – for even better this time around.
Before long he’d tuned out the music and was turning over phrases and chord changes for the song he was working on. Part of why he loved road trips was how his mind had time to work on music without pressure. Ideas drifted in and out and songs came together. It was easier if he wasn’t the one driving, since then he could write his ideas in a notebook as they came, but this was fine, too.
It was more than fine, actually. Even without talking, having Beth next to him made his day. She was peering out the window like everything they passed interested her. When they left Santa Barbara she’d watched the Pacific Ocean as long as she could, as if they were leaving it behind for good.
The 101 didn’t run anywhere near the coast except at Morrow Bay, but they were coming up on it and it was pretty much the perfect spot to stop. He pulled off the road into the parking lot and turned the car off.
Beth was staring wide-eyed at the surfers.
“Let’s go take a look,” he said, climbing out.
Together they walked out onto the beach and watched the waves roll in. Fall was the best time of year for surfing out here, so there was a pretty good crowd on a nice day like today.
“Oh my God, how can they do that?”
He laughed, the wind carrying most of the sound away. “I don’t know. I tried it once with a buddy when I was touring a few years back and I nearly drowned. It was one of my more humbling experiences.”
“I’ll bet. That’s one experience I think I’ll forego.”
“Well, you could start smaller. In retrospect I should have had a couple lessons before I went out there.”
She smirked at him, as if that would have been obvious to him if he weren’t so arrogant. The next instant she was taking off her sandals, a wide grin on her face, her eyes bright.
“I’ve never walked on west coast sand before.” A pause. “Or on east coast sand, for that matter. It feels good.”
She took off toward the water, her strong calves flexi
ng as her feet dug into the sand. Taking off his shoes he followed after her. Hell, he’d probably follow Beth over a damn cliff.
They stood for a few minutes with their feet in the water, watching surfers catch waves and ride them in. Beth yelped a few times when people went under, turning to him each time like he could do something about it.
“We’d better get going,” she said finally, turning back toward the car.
She twisted in her seat so she could see the ocean on their left as they drove away, but soon the highway turned eastward and they lost the view. She settled back in her seat and scrolled through her iPod and he went back to the song he’d been working on.
He was listening to the bridge in his head, trying to figure out why it wasn’t quite right, when he noticed she was harmonizing with the Everly Brothers. He darted a look at her but made no other move, afraid she’d get self-conscious and stop.
She’d created her own part, a sweet counterpoint to the main melody, and as soft as she was singing, he heard her clear and true. Her fingers tapped her thigh and she looked so perfectly content, so lost in herself and the music, he couldn’t help smiling.
He could have listened to her every second of every mile they drove. Without even meaning to he began imagining how she’d sound on stage. It wasn’t the craziest idea he’d had, though she’d probably think so. He needed to get her somewhere where they could try harmonies on “Better Off.” For a while now he’d been thinking the song needed something else, maybe a different kind of vocal arrangement, but nothing he’d tried with the guys made sense. Because he needed a woman.
He needed Beth.
He already knew how they sounded singing together, so it was really a matter of getting her to try. He was pretty sure she’d look at him like he was nuts and turn him down if he asked her outright, though. He’d have to be more subtle about it, ask her for help. Beth couldn’t refuse that kind of request. She was too nice.
The more he thought about it, the more excited he got. By the time they got to Santa Cruz he was amped, his mind whirling with new ideas. Just the thought of them gave him new energy, and he was practically bouncing off the walls through soundcheck.
That night he worked the fans like an evangelizing preacher proving their faith was justified. As if converting them all to his message was necessary for his personal salvation. Which it more or less was. Every note he played seemed to pour straight into the mass of people dancing and wild-eyed at his feet. Kind of like he was fucking them all at once. Every so often the crowd parted and he caught a glimpse of Beth at the table toward the back of the club, dancing and sweaty, taken over by the music, and he didn’t know which he wanted more, to play for her or sleep with her.
He slapped Will’s back as they left the stage. “We were totally in the pocket, man. A freight train couldn’t have thrown us off.”
Will looked surprised but gave something close to a smile.
“Dude, we totally killed out there,” Matt said, beaming and sweaty. “That was one of the best shows all tour. Did you feel it?”
“Hell, yeah, I felt it. There’s nothing better, is there?”
“Not even sex,” Brian chimed in.
Jesse started to laugh, but Brian was dead serious.
“It’s true,” Matt said. “Music is bigger than sex. Or like, sex is one way to get that big, mystical feeling you get with music. Except I get it all the time when we play, and hardly ever when I have sex.”
Jesse gaped at Matt. He’d just put into words exactly what Jesse felt. Brian was nodding, as if he, too, shared the sentiment.
Then Matt grinned his shit-eating grin. “Lucky for us we get to play and get laid.” He looked at Brian. “Ever think of taking advantage of all the girls, Brian? Your old woman would never know.”
Brian just looked at him, his face devoid of expression. “No.”
Jesse was only half-paying attention, though. He was too busy thinking about what Matt had said. He hadn’t yet met a woman who could compete with how he felt when he was playing, on or off stage. That was part of the problem, and the reason he’d always found it so easy to go on tour even when he had girlfriends. It was also the reason he’d sworn off serious relationships.
All his girlfriends had fallen for him after they saw him play, but soon enough they resented the fact that music took up so much of his life. The first time a woman had demanded he spend more time with her and less playing music he’d been confused, but when it kept happening he felt betrayed. How could they like him and still want him to give less to it? No one who understood him would have asked it of him.
So he kept things casual these days, an easy enough thing to do, especially since girls he slept with on the road didn’t expect more than a night. There was nothing mystical about it, but it scratched the itch.
Tonight he’d hopefully be going back to the hotel with Beth, but it would be for music, not sex. If it worked out like he hoped, it might not be such a bad trade-off.
He washed up in the bathroom and changed into a cleanish shirt. By the time he got to the green room a crowd had already formed. Beth came a while later after packing up the table, and while she looked happy enough to be there, she was obviously tired. Maybe she wouldn’t mind leaving early and helping him out.
She smiled when he brought her a bottle of water. “Thanks,” she said, taking a long swallow.
“Let me know when you’re taking off. I’m catching a ride with you.”
“Oh, okay.” She looked like she wanted to ask what the deal was, but stopped herself.
She wasn’t the only one holding back. He came close to asking her yet again if she’d enjoyed the show just to hear her tell him how much she loved it, but managed to check his ego in time. The image of her dancing to his music was going to have to be enough. That and the damp strands of hair that clung to her temples.
They wandered off in opposite directions and Jesse met up with friends he hadn’t seen since he’d been through a year before. It was great seeing them, but when they announced the party was moving to their place, he declined to go.
“You go ahead,” he said. “I’m sure the guys will want to go, but I have some stuff I have to work on.”
“Sounds mysterious,” his friend commented.
“Not really,” he said. “I’m going into the studio a couple weeks after the tour ends and I need to finish some songs.”
“All right, man. Far be it from me to get between you and your art. You know where we are if you change your mind.”
A little while later people started filtering out. Jesse excused himself from the two girls who’d been hanging around him all night and found Beth. Soon they were driving through the dark streets.
“Stu said something about getting you a gig on one of the late shows,” she said. “That’d be pretty amazing.”
“Yeah. I’ve learned not to count chickens, though. Until the deal is signed I’m just assuming it won’t happen.”
“Huh. I don’t think I could manage that.”
“You would if you’d been disappointed enough,” he said.
“I suppose you’re right. I’d probably have a hard time believing in another guy.”
He had nothing to say to that. It didn’t have anything to do with him, but somehow it depressed him to hear her say it.
Beth pulled into the Howard Johnson’s parking lot and turned off the car.
“Do you think you could come listen to something for a minute?” he asked. “I’ve been working on a song, and I was wondering if you could help me with it.”
“How could I possibly help?”
“I want to try some harmonies.”
“But I–”
“I won’t keep you up late. Let’s just give it a whirl and see how it goes.”
She sat there biting her lip like the fate of the world depended on how she answered.
“This is strictly business,” he said. “I won’t even flirt. I swear.”
He got out of the car and gra
bbed his bag and guitar, hoping he could build some momentum by moving.
Still she hung back, her doubt evident. But he was patient, or he could pretend to be. He stood there, waiting while she thought it all through. He already knew she’d come around. Beth wanted to try new things but she had to drive herself crazy before she did any of them.
“Okay, I’ll do it. As long as it doesn’t take more than an hour or so. I’ve got more promo kits to send out tomorrow morning, and some updates to your website.”
“No problem.”
Beth followed him up the stairs to the third floor and down the hallway to his room. It should have felt titillating, but it didn’t. Or not much, anyway. He was in work mode, clear-headed and ready to make things happen.
Then he opened the door, flicked on the light and saw the bed. Hotel rooms were pretty much all about the bed. They were both going to have to pretend the bed had nothing to do with them. He didn’t want Beth getting all skittish, not when he needed her help.
Luckily he hadn’t had time to make a mess yet. Walking farther into the room he turned on every light, hoping to dispel any feeling of intimacy. He would have killed for a shower, but taking one with Beth in the room was not going to fly.
“Want some water?” he asked, determined to be a good host.
She was still standing in the doorway. Definite flight risk.
“Sure, that’d be great,” she said, finally coming the rest of the way into the room.
The door slammed behind her and she jumped, then laughed self-consciously. Grabbing a plastic cup from the tray near the microwave, he went into the bathroom and filled two cups. When he came out he found her sitting on the desk chair on the other side of the room.
Taking his acoustic guitar out of its case he climbed onto the bed and leaned up against the headboard, boots and all.
“So here’s the thing,” he began, tuning the guitar as he spoke. “I’ve been working on a song, and I think it needs a female vocalist on harmonies. I want to hear you sing it and I’ll know if I’m on the right track.”
“But I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not a professional singer,” she protested.
“You know how to use your voice, though. That’s what’s important. We’re just playing around, seeing how it sounds. You can sing on key and you can harmonize. That’s all I need.”