“Well, I am. I just want you to believe it.”
She smiled. “I do.” She bit into one of the rolls and chewed reflectively. “Besides, you’re nothing like that guy I met last year.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m still the same heartless moron.”
She chuckled. “No. Something’s changed.”
She was half right. Something had changed, but I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly, and I wasn’t thrilled that the conversation had circled back to me. “Are you going to tell me about the book you wrote?” I asked quickly, wanting to take the subject off me and back to her.
She inhaled and placed the chopsticks across her plate. “Okay. It’s sort of dark and edgy. There’s this girl who goes off to college and finds a strange book in the dorm room she just moved into. Weird things begin to happen to her after she begins reading it. I got the idea my first week in San Diego. I’d been unable to sleep one night, and I found this book in the room. It was a fantasy novel, which I usually like, but this particular story seemed too unbelievable. So out of boredom, I decided to give it a try. It was okay, but as I was reading, I kept wanting it to take a different turn, and imagined different scenarios to the ending. That’s how I came up with the idea to write my own story. Using magic as the theme, I jotted down a plotline that I thought would work. Anyway, the girl in my story had grown up in a … troubled home, and the magic in the book helps her cope with things.”
“What kind of troubled home?” I asked, wondering if the girl in the story was actually her.
She sank back against the cushions, swiping her hair back behind her. It was so long and silky I wanted to run my fingers through it. “Um … you know, the typical bad childhood, parents that didn’t give a damn, moved around a lot so friendships never stuck, stuff like that.”
I nodded. What a generic description, yeah, it was her. “Well, you know there’s that old saying about writing what you know, so how were you able to write about a troubled girl?”
She laughed.
“What?”
“Have you ever heard of the Internet?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Research, Brodie.” She gave me a little smirk. “While it is true, writers do like to write what they know so that when it comes to facts and how someone reacts they can make a story believable, not everything we write is real. That’s why they call it fiction.”
“Right. But how do you figure out the right emotion?”
“I don’t know. I guess the same way actors do.” She paused for a second, took one of the Edamame beans and nibbled at the tip of it, then turned it toward me as if it were a pointer. “That’s why I did that thing a few weeks ago. Remember? In the hallway?”
“Yep.” How could I forget? It was the most bizarre thing I’d ever seen. I still didn’t believe that she’d been acting. Something must have happened to Gabrielle in her past. Something horrible I decided.
“Yeah, and then you accused me of being on drugs.” She laughed and slugged me in the shoulder.
I decided to table this conversation and move on. “I almost forgot; the band wants to practice every night until we leave next Thursday. You up for it?”
“Sure. It’ll be fun.”
Chapter 28
Gabrielle
The week flew by. I’d never been so busy in my life, writing all day, singing every night. We were good together, Lena and I. “A unique sound,” Brodie had called it, complementing each other with her higher soprano and my soft wispy, raspiness—Brodie’s description, not mine—we were able to perform almost any type of arrangement.
We left home bright and early on Thursday morning and headed south to Malibu. Jackson, Lena, Brodie, and I rode together in Jackson’s SUV. Kipper and Denny followed behind us in Denny’s truck, which held all the equipment. Brodie and Jackson shared the driving duties of the SUV. Lena and I had offered to do some, but both guys quickly nixed that idea. I rolled my eyes at Lena, and she shrugged and shook her head in defeat, neither one of us wanted to ruin the trip by arguing with them about it. The topic of women’s equality would have to be shelved for some other time. It was just as well, though. I had my laptop and managed to set up the next few chapters in the book, incorporating some of the gorgeous mountain wine country I’d marveled at as we’d traveled through into a setting for one of the scenes. It was a long ride to southern California, roughly nine hours if we didn’t stop. But by the time noon came around, everyone needed a potty break and our stomachs rumbled and screamed for fuel.
“There’s an In And Out. Let’s stop there,” Brodie suggested. I wasn’t all that keen on the fast food idea, considering I’d already gained about five pounds from eating all the junk food Brodie insisted on having around the house, but we’d all agreed that the quicker the stop, the faster we’d get to Malibu. Maybe I could talk one of them into a jog along the beach later tonight or early in the morning.
We rolled into Malibu roughly around seven that night. The hotel we’d booked sat right on the beach. Sweet. After being in the car for the past four hours, I got out and immediately headed for the restroom. “I’ll be there in a minute,” I said to Brodie and Lena, pointing to the ladies’ room as they headed toward the registration desk. When I came back out, everyone just stood looking at me, well, everyone, except Kipper and Denny, who’d already taken off to their room. The way the three of them stared at me, tight-lipped and worried, I thought maybe I had toilet paper stuck to my shoe or something, and quickly glanced down at my purple flip flops, which were completely devoid of any nasty tissue.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, now worried. Something was up. “Did they not have our reservation?”
Jackson cleared his throat. “Yeah, they had it.”
“They screwed it up though,” Lena added. “They only had us down for three rooms. They got mixed up because they thought we were booking two to each room.”
“Well, let’s just get another room, then,” I supplied matter-of-factly. A simple solution I decided, but they shook their heads. “Why not? I don’t mind paying more.”
“That’s not the issue, Gabrielle,” Brodie swiped his hand through his thick auburn locks. “They don’t have any more rooms. It’s peak season, and they’re all booked up.”
“Not to worry,” Lena put her arm around me. “You and I can share a room and Brodie and Jackson can have the other one.”
I shook my head. “No. That’s not fair to you guys. You’ve been looking forward to this, Lena.” I pulled her aside and lowered my voice. “You even told me how excited you were about spending some romantic time down here with Jackson.”
“It will be okay,” she said.
“No.” I turned back around to Brodie. “How many beds are in the room?”
“Just one.” Jeez, by the solemn look on his face, you’d think he’d just been told he had to have a root canal.
I swallowed nodding slowly. “Ooookay.” Everyone just stared at me. “Really, we’re responsible adults, we can do this. We can put up some sort of barrier between us, or better yet, I can sleep on the floor. I don’t mind.”
“You’re not going to sleep on the floor,” Brodie picked up two of the large duffle bags, slung them over each shoulder and headed toward the elevator. Jackson grabbed the two smaller bags and laptop, while Lena and I followed behind them, towing our small rollable suitcases behind us. At least our rooms were right next to each other. My eyes practically popped out of their sockets when I got a look at the view of the ocean. I hurried over to the sliding glass door and slid it open. Salt filled air flowed into my nostrils as I inhaled deeply. No amount of worry about sleeping arrangements or anything else could take away the smile on my face. I turned to call out to Brodie to come and look at the view, and smooshed my nose into his firm chest. “Ouch.”
“Sorry.” He smiled and looked out at the water, side-stepping around me. He leaned against the railing, hands splayed out and whistled softly. Waves lapped up on the sand, and I wanted to hoist my
body over the three foot high railing around our little patio and sink my toes into it. I managed to contain myself, but only because we were on the fifth floor and getting down presented a bit of a challenge. I moved to one of the two wicker chairs on the patio and sat, unable to take my eyes away from the mesmerizing movement of the ocean. Brodie sat in the other chair. I don’t think either of us moved or said a word for at least fifteen minutes. When I heard Brodie’s chair scrape the cement as he stood, I pulled my eyes away from the beautiful view only to find another. Brodie’s face. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and his dark stubbles gave his already chiseled jaw new dimension. His shirt was off, and the tight ripped muscles of his stomach shined with a coat of sweaty mist. He looked like a Greek god. How would I ever survive sleeping in the same room with him this weekend?
Chapter 29
Brodie
As I sat in the chair getting lost in the mesmerizing sounds and movement of the ocean, I decided right then and there that someday I would move to the beach. I inhaled deeply. The air was crisp and clean. Nothing like the smells at home. Those smells were great too, with the scent of pine and redwood trees around us, but this … this was pure heaven.
I glanced over at Gabrielle. It looked as if the same ideas inhabited her mind, but then I remembered, she’d recently moved away from the beach to come up north. Perhaps she wasn’t the beach type, though I’d never believe that by the way she studied the water, the way her wide, brown eyes danced with excitement as they followed the flight of a seagull swooping down to pick up a yummy treasure from the sand.
The sun still glowed high in the sky and warmed my body. I tugged my shirt up over my head and off to enjoy the rays. After a short while, I became thirsty and stood to go find something to drink.
Gabrielle glanced up at the sound of the chair scraping and stared up at me with surprise. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to find something to drink.”
“There’s probably a vending machine in the hallway somewhere with sodas and water. If you find one, could you get me a water?”
“Sure.” I turned to head out, but realized it wasn’t soda or water that I wanted. I’d been cooped up in a car for the past eight hours and driving for about five of them. I knew what I wanted, and I wasn’t going to find it in any vending machine. I pulled my shirt back on and turned to her. “Hey, how about we go check out the bar downstairs. I could really go for a beer right about now.”
“Um … sure. I guess. A beer sounds good.”
“You can get whatever you want, doesn’t have to be a beer.”
“Of course.” She stood and walked inside, stopping in front of the mirror to run her fingers through the long strands of her hair. “Just a sec.” She went to her suitcase, dug her hand down the side and pulled out a black elastic band. She proceeded to pull her hair up and started to wrap the band around it. I thought her hair had looked great the way it was and wished she’d left it down. I often thought about how it would feel tangled in my fingers.
“Don’t,” I said, a bit shocked that I had spoken out loud.
She stopped wrapping the elastic around her hair and looked at me. “What?”
“You should leave it down.”
“But it’s all frizzy from the salt and humidity. It’s only going to get worse if I leave it down.”
I shrugged and mumbled half to myself, “I like it down,” as I opened the door.
She followed me to the door and I let her exit the room first. I closed the door, noticing that her hair, to my unreserved delight, hung loosely down her back, the tips swishing gently at the very top of her lovely derriere with each step. She was right about the frizz though, as curls stuck out in all directions.
Keeping my hands off her during this gig would be near impossible. I probably should have just resigned myself to getting drunk and staying that way, especially at night, making myself incapable of any type of performance in the art of seduction.
The ride down in the elevator proved to be painfully quiet. I wasn’t sure why the uncomfortable feeling seemed to overwhelm both of us all of a sudden. We each stood with our backs to the mirrored wall facing the elevator door, and as soon as it opened, I drew in a breath of relief. We’d been living under the same roof for several weeks now. Surely this unexpected sleeping arrangement couldn’t affect us that much, could it?
Chapter 30
Gabrielle
As Brodie and I headed toward the bar, we noticed Kipper and Denny sitting at two of the stools in front of a large flat screen, mesmerized by the baseball game going on. I slowed my pace, no longer sure about sitting in the bar when there was a beautiful beach with a sunset that was about to happen right outside. Brodie must have sensed my apprehension as he tapped my shoulder. “Wanna get something to go and take a walk?”
“That actually sounds great.” I smiled at the prospect of digging my toes into the sand. The beach was one of the things about San Diego that I missed. In fact, there were a lot of things about San Diego that I missed. I only wished I could have afforded to live there on my own, but without my mom’s help, that was a no go, and she wasn’t about to pay my way if I wasn’t in school. I understood that and didn’t have any problem with her not supporting me anymore. I liked being responsible for myself and living on my own terms, not hers. One of the stipulations of having her pay my way through college and supporting me was I had to adhere to her rules, her ideas, and her beliefs. It was always about what she wanted for me, never what I wanted, right down to what major I took. Believe me when I say, her terms were not always the most desirable. Doing and seeing whoever and whatever had to be approved by my mom, the queen of the rotary club in Pacific Beach. After all, she had her reputation to look out for. What would people say if her daughter ever fell into the wrong crowd? Well, now I could do what I wanted, when I wanted and hang out with whomever I wanted. I liked being my own person. I liked living in Turtle Lake, loved Brodie’s house and I couldn’t have asked for a better, more affordable living arrangement. Having grown up at the beach, there’d always been that allure. Maybe someday I’d be able to afford to get back to beach living.
Brodie ordered a beer, asking for it in a plastic cup and looked at me questionably. “Oh, whatever your house cab is will be fine.” I smiled at the bartender.
With drinks in hand, we headed outside. As soon as we got to the edge of the pavement where the sand started, I stepped out of my sandals and Brodie kicked off his flipflops. “It looks like we made it just in time for the sunset.” I followed Brodie’s gaze toward the horizon. “And it looks like it’s going to be a pretty good one with the scatter of clouds we have.”
I dug my toes into the sand, elating in the cool grains hiding below the surface. Brodie took my hand, though the gesture seemed lighthearted as he said, “Come on. Let’s go closer to the water. I love the feel of the wet sand between my toes,” my stomach flipped upside down with excitement. A feeling I hadn’t felt for a very long time, one that confused me. I had to remind myself it was just a hand. After all, we were roommates. Roommates who didn’t want to complicate anything. At least I didn’t think so. I wasn’t exactly sure at this point.
“Me too.” I giggled as the words left my lips. Brodie kept his stride slow and leisurely, which was helpful, keeping in mind we had drinks in our hands. I took a sip of my wine as we approached the small waves lapping up the beach. We walked along the edge of the water allowing the foam to flow over the tops of our feet. The water was nice. Not too cold, perfect for the middle of summer. There were still a few straggler beach-goers out, but most of them were either strolling along in the opposite direction we were going or packing up their stuff to head inside.
Something inside me wanted to ask about Brodie’s past, but then another part of me didn’t really want to know. I liked him now, the way he was, I didn’t need to know what drove him to do the things he had done. He seemed changed now, and that’s really all I needed. But the curiosity niggled in the ba
ck of my mind and I blurted out, “I’m glad you’ve changed.”
His head snapped in my direction. “Huh?”
“From the way you used to be, I’m glad you’ve changed.”
“And how was I?”
He was making this very difficult for me. I knew he understood what I was talking about, but it seemed like he was going to make me spell it all out. “You know, sleeping around. A lot. You haven’t been doing that, at least not that I’ve noticed. Of course, it’s none of my business what you do.”
“You’re right.”
“I’m sorry. I knew I probably should have kept my mouth shut and minded my own business.”
“No. I mean you’re right. I haven’t been, as you call it, “sleeping around” lately.”
I nodded, more to myself than to him. I wanted to know why, but I was too freaking scared to ask.
“You’re wondering why,” he said.
“Maybe,” I reluctantly admitted.
“Well, if you really want to know, it’s got to be more than just a maybe. I don’t reveal such secrets about myself to people that are just curious. I need to know they’re invested.”
I laughed. “Invested in what?”
“The time. It’s a long story.”
“Okay, then. I want to know.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. Completely invested here.”
“Let’s see, where to start.”
“How about the beginning?”
“All the way back there?” He laughed. “Nah, how about a couple of years ago?”
I nodded, not really caring where he started as long as he did.
“Okay. A couple of years ago I had a girlfriend.” He stopped and glanced at me. “No need to look so shocked. I’m capable of having a monogamous relationship.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
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