Love on the Sound

by Matthews, Jamie

“Nope. Just a reminder to call my sister tomorrow. It’s her birthday.”

  “Does she live here?”

  “No, she and my parents live in San Francisco. That’s where I grew up. I moved to Oregon to go to college and ended up staying.” She glanced up at him. “Are you close to your family?”

  Ben shook his head. “Definitely not.” He looked over. “Have you read about my childhood, my family? It’s usually mentioned in any kind of interview.”

  “Not really. I have to admit, while I love movies, I don’t follow the gossip. I’m not into the celebrity stuff.”

  “Man.” Ben smiled at her. “You don’t know how nice that is to hear. It can be pretty weird to be talking to someone, telling them all about yourself, only to realize that they already know it all thanks to the power of Google.”

  She laughed as they rounded a bend in the path. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, and shadows danced across Ben’s face as he talked.

  “I was the youngest in the family. The reason my childhood is mentioned in the press so much was that it makes for good copy—my dad was an alcoholic. He’d disappear for days at a time on benders, never held down a job. We moved around a lot, from one crappy apartment to another. Lots of screaming and yelling—both by him, and by my sister, who was eight years older than me, and hated his guts. He died when I was 10 in a car accident—drunk driving.” Ben laughed a little. “Okay, seriously. You’re never going to want to hang out with me again. First, I regale you with stories about my psycho stalker. Now, the ever so tragic story of my upbringing. I’m not trying to be Danny Downer.”

  “You might as well tell me, because now I’m intrigued, and I’ll just Google it when we get back,” Amy said, trying to match his light tone, even though she was dismayed at the picture he was painting.

  “You asked for it. Actually, the rest of the story isn’t that interesting. I didn’t miss him when he died.” Ben shrugged. “We were better off without him. But, we still never were going to be a Leave it to Beaver family. My mom looked at us kids as an annoyance, a burden. She remarried pretty quickly after my dad died, and I got a stepbrother and a stepsister, both of whom I hated. They hated me right back. Spoiled brats, both of them. Took after their dad, who definitely wasn’t a big fan of mine. My sister took off to college, met an Englishman there. They got married, moved to London, and she has succeeded in trying to erase any evidence of our dear family from her life.”

  “So, was acting an avenue of escape for you?” Amy’s heart ached at the thought of the lost little boy, reveling in the applause and attention.

  “Oh, yeah. Actually, first it was writing. That’s how I got into theater in high school. I took all the creative writing classes that were available and the only thing left was screenwriting. But, you had to take drama first. So, then I could escape both with my writing and in acting.” Ben stopped to take in the view as they rounded the corner and the point of the spit lay in front of them. The ferry chugged its way from Anacortes towards the harbor, trailing white waves in its wake.

  “At first, it was escape, sure. But, I loved the creative expression, the tight knit family that forms on set. And, screenwriting—that was definitely my passion. I forgot all about the Great American novel. I learned the craft of acting more so that I could understand how to write the next Oscar-winning screenplay.”

  “That’s right, didn’t you write the screenplay for Night School? God, I just loved that movie when it came out.” Amy smiled. “It seems like such a long time ago. Are you still writing?”

  Ben frowned. “No. I got away from it. It’s always been a tug of war between acting and writing. Acting was the easier path to take, in a lot of ways. More money, for sure, more fame.” He paused, and said with some surprise. “I miss writing. I hadn’t thought about it, but I really miss it.”

  Amy led him to the tip of the spit, and they stood for a minute in silence, surveying the view. “Well, you should write while you’re here. Why not?”

  “Hmm. Maybe.”

  “Write it, sell it, win the Oscar. Then, I’ll put a little plaque in your room—Here Ben Morrison created…whatever you end up titling it.”

  Ben laughed. “Oh, so you just want the publicity boost, is that it?”

  Amy nodded, deadpan. “Of course. It would really help me out. Hey, look, you can see the harbor seals.” She pointed to where they lay on the rocks in the sun. “I should get back.”

  They made their way back down the spit and to the beach.

  “Didn’t I see a sign at Hannah’s that open mic night is tonight?” Ben asked. “What’s the deal with that—worth going to?”

  “Oh, it’s the social event of the Island,” Amy laughed as they pushed off in their kayaks and began paddling back. “It’ll be packed. There’s no interpretive poetry or anything awful like that.”

  “Thank God,” said Ben with feeling. “I got enough of that when I went to NYU to last me the rest of my natural life. So, is it music or spoken word?”

  “All music. I’ll be heading down there, probably be playing with my friend, Paul.”

  Ben stopped paddling and held up his hand. “You play? Aren’t you full of surprises? No, wait….It probably isn’t a surprise; I just talked about myself all afternoon.”

  “Selfish bastard,” Amy said and felt a huge grin spread across her face when he looked startled, then threw his head back and let out a long, loose, ubersexy laugh. “Come on, I asked you to tell me about yourself. And, yes, I play guitar and so does Paul.”

  “I see. Friend-friend or boyfriend?” He asked in a light, casual tone, but Amy noticed he suddenly was concentrating very hard on his paddling.

  “Just a friend.” She glanced over in time to see Ben smile. Hmmmm. Interesting. “I can give you a ride,” she offered.

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Amy didn’t usually get performance jitters, but as they paddled back, a herd of butterflies took up residence in her stomach. He was an actual movie star. He’d probably met Bono, for God’s sake. What would he think of her playing? And, what was she going to wear? When she found herself calculating just how long it would take her to zip over to Friday Harbor and go shopping for a new outfit, she mentally slapped herself back to reality. Flirting probably came as natural to him as breathing. It wasn’t a date.

  Still, she thought, as they drifted up to the dock, if she pulled out the black lace shirt with the low-cut v-neck….Well, there was no harm in flashing the girls a little, just to see what would happen. To go out with a movie star, even on an innocent non-date, and not flirt—well, that would be a missed opportunity. And, she told herself as they reached On the Sound, life was too damn short. With that thought in mind, she made sure he took the lead dragging his kayak back to the shed, so she could enjoy the spectacular view of worn denim and hard muscles. Butterflies be damned.

  Chapter 11

  At 7:00, Amy walked into the front room to find Ben banking the fire. He’d changed from his ratty, frayed jeans and sweatshirt to a pair of gray slacks and a navy v-neck sweater that made his eyes seem impossibly blue. She had the satisfaction of watching his eyes track briefly down to the girls, showcased very nicely, thank you very much.

  “Is Charlie coming?” he asked, referring to her other guest.

  “No,” Amy replied, drawing the curtains against the night chill. “He showed up an hour ago soaked through, said he wanted nothing more than a hot pizza and dry clothes.”

  “Great,” Ben said. “I know you offered to give me a ride, but I really think it will be much more fun in my car. But, it’s a bit of a squeeze for three people.”

  “You don’t like my pickup?” Amy hid her smile as she put on her waterproof trench coat and tied the belt.

  Ben rolled his eyes and followed her as she grabbed her keys from the hook by the door, as well as her guitar. “It’s great. In fact you should leave it here to preserve it—you could get a scratch or a ding.”

  “That’s what I’m going for. The an
tique dinged look.” Amy grinned at him and ran through the rain to his car, the lights flashing as he hit the unlock button.

  She snuck a glance at him as he turned onto the main road into the village. The occasional streetlight flickered over his face, etching his profile, highlighting the dimple in his cheek from his smile. It was unfair that anyone could be that good looking. And, she had to admit, as she relaxed back into the soft leather of her seat, the car was pretty damn cool.

  “Luckily, it’s not karaoke night, otherwise I might be tempted to do my Sound of Music medley,” Ben remarked.

  Amy put a hand up to her mouth to hide her smile. Ben laughed. “It’s okay, you can laugh.”

  “If you turn down this street, you can park behind the bakery,” Amy said instead, pointing. She sat as he navigated down the tiny side street, wondering about the kind of man who’d laugh at his own nationally televised meltdown. Was he hiding behind the joke, or did he genuinely see the humor in it?

  They dashed through the rain to the back door and walked into the light and warmth of the bakery. People crowded around every table, and more mingled by the bakery counter while Paul strummed the chords to the Beatles Two of Us, singing in his clear baritone. Hannah, in a purple and black striped shirtwaist dress with black clogs, was going from table to table, topping off coffee and grabbing empty plates, her eyeglass frames black tonight, her hair twisted up in a loose bun speared with chopsticks. She glanced over as Amy and Ben walked through the door and stopped for a minute, a smile lighting up her face. She waved the coffeepot at them in greeting. Amy forced a smile. With so much going on at On the Sound, and distracted by Ben, she’d almost forgotten her hurt at Hannah’s assumption she was leaving the Island. Almost, but not quite.

  “Over here, Amy!” Ryan sat at a large table in the center of the café, his arm draped around his partner, Zane. Next to Zane, Nell cradled an adorable newborn in her arms. Hannah’s husband Tom sat next to Ryan. An empty chair—Paul’s, Amy guessed, sat between him and a very delicious tall drink of water who was chatting it up with Carrie, the new mom with dark circles under her eyes. The newcomer was lean and lanky, with deep brown eyes and glossy midnight black hair pulled back in a thong at the nape of his neck. Yum, was Amy’s first thought. At least, until she looked over at Ben, his deep blue eyes taking everything in. Double yum.

  “Did you want to sit somewhere more private?” Amy asked.

  “I was going to find a quiet corner to warm up before I sing Climb Every Mountain,” he said, grinning down at her. “But, this is fine for now.”

  “We look forward to your performance.”

  She led the way over to the group, and wondered—what exactly was the protocol for introducing a famous movie star to your friends? She decided to pretend he was a regular guest. She worked her way around the table, introducing him, with a pause by Nell and the baby. “I’m coming back for you, sweet pea,” she crooned, stroking the baby’s soft cheek. “Your time is almost up,” she warned Nell coolly. Nell shrugged. Oh yeah, Amy thought. They were having it out tonight.

  “I don’t think we’ve met,” she said to Tall Drink of Water. “I’m Amy, and this is Ben.”

  He smiled up at her, and Amy blinked. The man all but oozed charm and sex appeal. Hannah happened to be passing by and gave her a meaningful glance, fanning herself when she was out of TDOW’s sight. Amy struggled not to laugh.

  “Adrian.” He held out a hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m an old friend of Paul’s.”

  His voice held a hint of a Latino accent, even sexier. “Right, right, of course. The sculptor. I’ve seen your work—it’s amazing. Are you visiting then?”

  “Moving here, actually. Came over to check out a few places.”

  Zane pulled two chairs over and patted the one next to him, eyeing Ben. “Come sit yourself down. You are just as gorgeous in person as you are on screen.”

  “Why, thank you,” Ben said, seemingly amused.

  “Oh, Zane.” Resigned, Amy took the other chair.

  Zane arched an eyebrow at her. “Honey, I’m just speaking my truth.”

  Ryan leaned around Zane. “Seriously, Amy. I have yet to see you on a date and then you show up with this one? Damn, girl, I seriously underestimated you.”

  Amy felt her cheeks blaze, but Ben seemed unfazed, laughing as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles.

  “Ben is a guest,” she said firmly, trying to regain control of the conversation.

  “How convenient,” drawled Zane.

  Ben roared with laughter, while Amy tried to kill both Zane and Ryan with the power of her glare. Carrie hid a smile behind her hand, and even Nell’s lips curved slightly.

  “Anyway. Where’s Mellie?” Amy said, referring to their 18-month-old adopted daughter.

  “Ryan’s mom is in town. She’s playing overindulgent grandma so we can get the scoop on Mr. Hollywood here.”

  “Ignore them.” Amy shoved Zane in the bicep, hard. “Ben, can I get you anything?”

  “I can get it. Let me wait on you for a change.”

  Amy laid a hand on his arm to stop him when he started to get up, enjoying the side benefit of those hard muscles under her fingers. “No, I need to talk to Hannah about something. Let’s see…the tiramisu is amazing.”

  “Sold. And, a coffee.”

  Amy wound her way to the counter where Bliss, a slim, petite high school student, was busy pulling espresso and manning the till, while Hannah restocked the bakery case.

  “Hi, Bliss. Two tiramisus, please. A jasmine tea and a house coffee.”

  Hannah looked over and came out from behind the counter to give Amy a quick hug. “I’m so glad you came!” She looked meaningfully at the table, where Ben was chatting with Ryan and Zane. “I haven’t seen you on a date in ages, and here you are with Mr. Sexy.”

  “I thought he was Mr. Muffin,” Amy retorted, feeling her cheeks flush—again. “It’s not a date. Since we were both coming down here it was silly to ride in separate cars.”

  Hannah arched a brow. “If I were you I wouldn’t be so quick to deny it’s a date. The man is hot.”

  “Listen,” Amy said quickly before she could get distracted. “I really need to talk to you a minute. I know you’re slammed, but…”

  Hannah surveyed her face and nodded. “Bliss can handle it. I’m taking five,” she called and dragged Amy back to the kitchen, closing the door. She sank down into a stool and sighed. “Ahhhh…my feet are killing me. So, what’s up?”

  “I heard you and Nell talking the other day about how I was planning on leaving the Island.”

  Hannah stared at her blankly, and then comprehension dawned.

  “I know Nell doesn’t like me,” Amy continued, plowing over whatever Hannah was about to say. “So, that’s fine. But you—I thought you knew me better than that. It hurt my feelings, Hannah.”

  “Amy,” Hannah started, but Amy held out a hand.

  “I was offered six million dollars for On the Sound. I turned it down. I’m staying.”

  Hannah’s mouth hung open, and she braced her hand on the counter. “Oh. My. God. Six million? That’s so fantastic! Good for you!”

  “I’m not taking it,” Amy shot back, exasperated. “I’m staying!”

  “Of course you are,” Hannah said calmly, settling back on her stool. “I knew after the first year that you would stay, which is what I told Nell after she complained that you would leave. I told her I understood how she felt but that she was wrong.”

  “Oh.” Amy frowned. “You stood up for me.”

  “Yep.” Hannah reached out and rubbed Amy’s arm. “Honey, I’m sorry you’ve been carrying that around the last few days. I would never want to hurt your feelings.”

  Amy sighed. “Well, that took the wind right out of my sails. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, I probably would have reacted the same way in your shoes. We’re okay?”

  Amy gave her a hug. “Of course. And, I’m going to talk
to Nell right now. I’m tired of her passive aggressive shit. It’s not high school anymore.”

  She expected Hannah to make an excuse for Nell and was surprised when Hannah nodded. “Please, please do. It would be so much more fun for me if you guys got along. And, it’s pretty much all about me.” She grinned.

  They returned to the café, and Amy noticed that Ben and Adrian were now deep in conversation. Talk about two fine male specimens.

  “I’ll take this over to Ben while you talk to Nell,” Hannah said, grabbing their desserts.

  “Enjoy the view,” Amy murmured.

  Hannah followed her gaze and laughed. “Oh, yeah.”

  As they walked back to the table, Amy caught Paul’s eye, and he raised an eyebrow in invitation, patting the stool next to him. She mouthed, “Five minutes” to him, and he nodded, segueing into another one of the songs he’d written himself, a simple yet rhythmical verse about a man wondering if love was in his future or if he was better off alone. Nell was watching Paul and didn’t see Amy approach. Her eyes intent, lips slightly parted, she sighed as Paul built the song up to the final chorus. For an instant, longing flashed across her face and just as quickly, she shut it down when Carrie turned to her to make a comment.

  Well, well, well, Amy thought, a light bulb practically going off over her head. Isn’t that interesting?

  “Hey.” Amy leaned over and poked Nell’s shoulder. “I need to talk to you.”

  She turned and made her way outside, not bothering to check if Nell was following her.

  “Oh God, look at that Porsche,” Nell said as soon as she stepped outside. She gazed longingly at the car.

  “It’s Ben’s. He gave me a ride.”

  “I bet he did,” Nell snickered.

  Amy rolled her eyes. “You and Hannah, I swear. Get your minds out of the gutter. He’s a guest, not my date. He gave me a ride, that’s all.”

  Nell sighed, running a hand over the hood. “God, it’s a beauty. What year?”

  “As if I have any idea. It’s red. And, very fast.” Amy laughed at Nell’s frustrated expression. “You’ve seen my car. Do you think I have any idea what year it is?”