Chasing the Sun

by Nikki Mathis Thompson

  “When I was younger, I had a hard time staying in one place, or with the same person. Looking for love in all the wrong assholes and picking up stakes whenever I felt any roots were taking hold…chasing the sun, that’s what my mom called it. But what I’ve finally realized is that there’s a poetry to the darkness. There must be balance, yin and yang, light and dark, happy and sad. I’m learning to find the balance. Only took thirty years.”

  “I think that’s pretty common in your twenties. I think that’s when you’re supposed to mess up and take chances. You’re young enough to think you’re immortal and old enough to know you’re supposed to grow up,” Ian said, running his thumb across her cheek bone.

  “You know what I’ve found? There are two kinds of people in this world, Ian, those who absorb the light around them, horde it for themselves…and those that reflect it. You, you reflect the light and warm those around you.” She lowered herself onto his stomach. “You’re like the sun…I want to wrap myself in it.” She kissed his neck. Her mouth lingered by his ear. “Bathe in it.” She kissed his jaw. “Be incinerated by it.”

  He stirred beneath the sheet at her words and more so when she kissed his mouth. He could tell it meant something to her, the grip of her hands on his face, the perfect pressure of her lips, the soft whimper.

  The question was, what did it mean to him?

  He finished up at the office and went for a jog. It was steamy and the sweat was dripping down his face and bare chest. He needed an outlet, the nerves induced by tonight’s performance hit him hard and fast. So he pushed himself, quickening his pace and lengthening his stride. No music, just alone with his thoughts and the tree lined park where he’d carved out a route. Several questions jangled and twirled in his mind.

  Will I freeze up, forget the words?

  Would I embarrass Rory?

  How do I act towards Rory when Trey was around? Why did it matter?

  What do I wear? Leather pants? What the fuck? Jeans, dumb ass.

  Should I get a new dog? Not ready yet.

  Will the museum be done on time? Not in a hurry, I like it here.

  Who should I take to the opening? Rory, right? No, go alone.

  Do I love Rory? No. Could I? Not sure.

  He liked her a lot though.

  I have time for one more mile…

  Putting his male pride aside, he called Trey and asked her what he should wear.

  She laughed softly.

  “That’s so cute. I didn’t know you were a metro.”

  “Trey, be serious. And I’m not a metro-sexual, I just don’t want to look like a poser or God forbid, a hipster.”

  “Just wear jeans and a t-shirt. The dark blue one with the v-neck looks nice.”

  “I wear that one all the time.”

  She laughed again. “Ian, are you nervous, sweetie?”

  “Obvious?”

  “Well, the wardrobe crisis is a bit of a tip off. You usually don’t care. What did Rory tell you to wear?”

  “I didn’t ask her. I didn’t want to sound like a douche.”

  “But you have no such qualms about me? I’m not sure if I should be offended or flattered.”

  “Treeeey. Help me please.”

  “Wow, that was whiny as hell. Tell you what, I’m heading in for my shift, so I’ll come by and help you. Okay?”

  “Yeah, that’d be cool, if you have a second.” He tried his best to sound whatever about it, but inside he sighed with relief.

  Ten minutes later she was knocking on his door and going through his closet.

  “Do you own leather pants?” she asked.

  “That’s what I thought!”

  “Oh my god I was kidding! You’re lucky you have me.”

  “Ha ha, just get on with it. You have a shift to get to and I have a nervous breakdown penciled in.”

  She walked over to him and held out a fitted white v-neck with a tan medallion looking thing on the front.

  “Here. Wear this with those worn jeans. They make your butt look good.”

  “They do?”

  She grinned and nodded.

  “Wait, I’ll be sitting down. Who cares what my butt looks like?”

  “Party pooper.” She stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek.

  “You’ll look great, don’t worry.”

  He loved the hell out of this girl, she was one his favorite people in the world.

  He smiled at her. “I am lucky to have you.”

  “You bet your handsome ass you are… now go take a shower.”

  He stepped back from her, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry, just got back from a run.”

  She thought sweat and sun smelled sexy, but kept quiet lest he think he could forgo soap and deodorant.

  Ian walked her to the door and gave her a hug. He thanked her and she blew him off.

  “No thanks necessary.” She started to walk off then she turned back towards him. “You’re going to do great. I have all the faith in the world.”

  The look on her face told him that she meant every word and that reassured him. If she was there, he’d have a friend in the audience and that would make it better.

  He wondered if he should have invited Lucas and Viv, or let Maddie come down like she begged. Nah, it was better this way. He just might have to pick a new hangout before the night was out.

  Damn, he really liked the Royal.

  Chapter TwentyThis is it, this is it. The thought looped as he tuned his guitar. The lights hitting the stage were bright, which was good because he couldn’t see the faces in the crowd with any detail. On the other hand, he was painfully aware that everyone could see him. He kept his head down—focusing on his strings, lifting and lowering his mic twenty times, organizing his sheet music.

  He spared a glance at Rory. Sexy Earth Mother, with her wild hair, tight black tank top and long patterned skirt, totally at ease on stage. He envied her serene countenance. He wished for a shred, but came up empty, so he opted for a shot instead. Above the lights he could see Trey behind the bar. She waved at him and he made the drink motion with his hand and mouthed, tequila. Trey nodded and within minutes one of the waitresses stood by the stage with his drink. She batted her eyes and wished him good luck.

  Ian smiled and thanked her. She was showing a lot of cleavage, which he could really appreciate for the elevated stage. He was pretty sure she was pushing her tits together with her arms. As she sauntered to a table, Ian looked at Trey and saw her wink. He laughed and shook his head. She knew just how to make him feel better and nothing gets your mind off nerves like thinking about banging a hot young waitress in the supply closet.

  And then it was time…

  “Good evening, ya’ll.” She laid on a husky twang for the audience. “I’m Aurora Monroe and this foxy devil beside me is, Ian.” Cat calls and whistles. He hoped he wasn’t blushing, but he may have been grinning like moron. “We’ve got a nice little set lined up…enjoy.”

  She looked over and nodded, giving him a small reassuring wink. He started to strum the opening cords of Ryan Adam’s rendition of “Wonderwall.” His fingers slid up and down the smooth strings and she joined, her voice dreamy and rich. She sat to the front of the stool, leaning towards the audience, seducing them with her voice. He remembered that first night he saw her on stage, he’d fallen under her spell in a matter of minutes. Tonight he couldn’t allow himself to become mesmerized. He had to focus on both hands, plucking and strumming with one, pressing down on the strings with the other.

  By the third song his nerves had fled and he was enjoying himself, he even bantered with Rory between songs, eliciting laughs and more catcalls. It was easy, organic, flirty, like they’d played together a million times before. The fact that they were sleeping together may have been a factor in their undeniable chemistry on stage. When it came time for the finale, their duet, “Dust to Dust,” he was ready. Their voices melded and entwined, the sexual energy and longing was palpable. Ian’s voice was soft and true, Rory’s wa
s light and breathy. Their eyes held—they were singing to each other and for a moment it was as if there wasn’t a packed house. In that moment, he felt like he could fall for her and the way she was looking at him said she might already be there.

  Was it a kind of magic the music wove? Was it real? He didn’t know or care, he just rode the high of performing with her and when they sang the last notes, the place erupted. Rory beamed as she bowed. She grabbed his hand and kissed him softly. The place erupted with hoots and whistles.

  “Thanks for coming out. You’ve been amazing.” She was addressing the audience, but she was looking at Ian. He grinned and waved at the audience. Some woman yelled, “Marry me.” Some guy yelled that he loved Rory. That made him laugh. No wonder musicians got laid so much, it was a kind of magic. It’d been magic in his life, anyway.

  He looked out into the crowd then his eyes drifted to a particular someone behind the bar. He smiled at her and waved. She just stood there, a strange expression on her face. He’d never seen her look like that before and he didn’t like it.

  They bowed one more time and he trotted down the three steps and bee lined it for the bar.

  No Trey.

  “Hey, Mandy. Where’s Trey?” He had to yell, the patrons were loud and so was the music playing from the speakers.

  “Hey, great set, Ian. She said she needed to go on break. Check the alley.”

  “Thanks.” He wanted to run, but stopped himself.

  Rory was surrounded by her admirers. She threw her head back and laughed at something one of them said. She didn’t see him and he was glad of it.

  He pressed the long silver handle on the exit door and burst outside. The air was hot and thick, the sky ink. Ian scanned the area and finally found Trey. She was leaning against the brick in the shadow beyond the one spot light that shined on the employee parking lot.

  “Trey,” he called. Her body jerked and then she straightened. Her head was away from him, but she glanced at him when the toe of his shoes touched hers. He noticed that her eyes were red and there were traces of dry tears on her face.

  “Hey, you okay. Did that asshole come back in?”

  She laughed, but it wasn’t pleasant.

  He put his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look up into his eyes.

  “Trey, what the hell is wrong? Talk to me.”

  “You are sleeping with her, aren’t you?” Her voice was soft, but sharp as a knife.

  He didn’t answer right away.

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer. It was obvious when you were practically humping each other on the stage.”

  “I didn’t even touch her.”

  “I meant metaphorically!”

  “Whoa, whoa. What the hell is this about? Are you crying because of me?”

  She growled at the sky and ran her hands through her curls.

  “Ian, you are the most clueless person I have ever met!” She pushed past him, but he hooked her elbow.

  “Trey, look, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I knew you might be upset since you warned me about her, but I didn’t think you would be this upset about it. I know you and I slept together, but I thought we’d moved past it. Friends, right?”

  She looked up again, as if she hoped to glean strength from the heavens. Her bottom lip quivered and she bit down, but it was too late, he’d seen it. Trey let out a breath and looked at him, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t try to hide or brush them away.

  When he stood there mute, a sob left her throat and she ran.

  A feeble. “Trey…” left his lips, but she’d rounded the corner.

  He should follow her. But his feet stayed planted, as the bewildered haze still retained control of his brain.

  Ian ran his hand over the back of his neck, then a few vigorous swipes over his face. He had no idea how to fix this thing with Trey, so he decided to worry about it tomorrow or maybe the next day.

  He went back inside to find Rory.

  Later that night he couldn’t sleep. Rory’s breathing was slow and easy, she was wrapped around him, her head nuzzled on his chest. He ran his fingers over her back, lost in thought.

  Two wonderful women. Very different, but the same in the ways that counted—intelligence, kindness, a fierce spirit. He felt like a whiny bitch, there were worse things than having two exceptional women interested in him.

  But it really wasn’t that great. He would have to hurt one or both and it would hurt him to hurt them. He was going home in a month, so did it matter? Trey had become the kind of friend he’d wanted long term, but now was there anything to salvage? She was hurting and he wasn’t sure they could come back from this.

  Rory was amazing and they had great chemistry. He’d originally thought she just wanted a fling, but something had shifted. He didn’t think she was in love with him or anything, but the looks she’d been giving him, the smiles, the touches. All that “you are the sun” stuff. But she was also a free spirit and very passionate, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she burned hot and them flickered out with all the men she slept with.

  Somewhere out there Trey was sad and maybe a little heartbroken, and the thought made him sick.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  He pounded the bag, right, left, right left. The ache and strain was welcome. The uneasy night’s sleep made him struggle for every punch, but he pushed through with the knowledge that maybe if he punched hard enough he could untangle the thoughts in his head. David Grohl’s fast paced guitar urged him to hit harder.

  Left, right, left, right, upper cut.

  He made no move to slow down.

  When his back muscles started to burn and twitch, a mournful baritone sounded in his ears. “Take Me to Church” was a song of benediction, forbidden love, pain, and longing. It made him want to scream, fuck, maybe even cry. But no, not today. Today he would take out his frustration on the stuffed piece of red vinyl swaying from a metal chain in an empty gym.

  The song ended and he stalled the swinging bag with a wide embrace, his breath far from being caught. He scrunched his eyes shut—the sweat dripped down his face, down his bare chest and back. He would hurt tomorrow.

  The answer hadn’t magically come to him during his barrage of punches, but he sure felt better. Add a long nap and he should almost feel normal.

  He’d expected Trey to call him or send him a self deprecating text, something, anything. But four days and nothing…

  It was Thursday and he was waiting in front of the long line of food trucks by his office. They met here every Thursday. He was sweating despite the shade from the trees. He walked up the the section of pale picnic benches, where she always waited for him, but she was nowhere to be found. Maybe she was running late. He clung to this thought as he shot her a text message.

  I’m here. The chicken and waffles truck smells awesome.

  Silence.

  Come on you can’t stay mad at me for ever! I’ll buy you one of those chocolate crepes you like.

  Another ten minutes with no response.

  He didn’t have much of an appetite, but in the spirit of tradition he chose something he’d yet to try. That was Trey’s idea—pick something different every time. If the person chose something and it turned out to be particularly heinous, the other would share their lunch. Neither wanted to share, so they learned to steer clear of the Vegan Vindaloo truck.

  He decided to hit up Sabor, which happened to have killer Tex-Mex. He ordered the lunch special and grabbed a spot in a corner. He poked at his carne asada enchiladas with little enthusiasm and a lot of self pity. He ate, but didn’t taste, and half way through he tossed it in the trash. He felt a twinge of guilt for wasting all that food, his father would kill him.

  “What? You’re just gonna leave without buying me my crepe?” a familiar voice with a soft twang called to his back.

  He stopped and smiled, the tightness in his chest loosening.

  He turned to find Trey standing a few feet away with a hand on her cocked hip. He
r hair was piled on top of her head with a gauzy white top over shorts.

  “The offer had a forty-five minute time limit, but I guess I can make an exception for groveling’s sake.”

  “So this is how you grovel, huh? Giving an admitted chocoholic her fix.”

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t sound so sure of yourself, handsome.”

  “Well, is it working?”

  “Marginally.”

  “Then, yes, this is how I grovel and whatever else you need me to do.”

  He’d closed the gap between them, pulling her into a hug.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her citrus-scented curls.

  He wasn’t apologizing for sleeping with Rory, but that Trey was hurt because of it.

  Trey wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed.

  “I know. That’s why I’m here. None of this is your fault…I’m sorry too.”

  He pulled back.

  “What for?”

  “Well, for being all territorial about Rory. Having a meltdown in front of you. For acting casual about everything and then blindsiding you with all my emotional shit. For being a bad friend. …it wasn’t fair.” She’d counted each one off with her fingers. She always did that, he found it endearing.

  “You aren’t a bad friend. You’re the exact opposite. You’ve made being here infinitely more bearable. Scratch that, you’ve made it unforgettable.”

  “That’s nice and all, but I’m still standing here, crepe-free.”

  He laughed and hooked her around the neck.

  “Come on.”

  That night he reclaimed his stool at the Royal. Things seemed back to normal and he was so relieved. He hadn’t really understood the depth of his foul mood until it had lifted. Only people he really cared about had the ability to get him so twisted.