by SJ Cavaletti
We shuffled up mindlessly with the line of women who fanned out from the end of the funnel into some bigger area where music played. We still couldn’t see anything else over the crowd of heads.
We found a place to the side to park our bikes. Jasmine looped her arm through mine. And a lightbulb went off.
“That saying,” I said, “To live when the sun is shining. You’re right, it encompasses how my Dad lived. But also why it feels so unfair. He lived hard. He loved life. So many people waste theirs and are given a hundred years. It just feels really unfair sometimes. I know he wouldn’t want me to think that way, but I do.”
Jasmine bobbed her head up and down. She knew better than to contradict. Justice, when it comes to death, is completely subjective. She clutched my arm a little harder.
Suddenly, I thought of Drake again. Because I did that all the time now.
“Do you think Drake is feeling pressure to write a song?” I asked. “Has he said anything about it to you? He seems like he takes things seriously. He has depth. I just don’t want him feeling overwhelmed by all this like it needs to be perfect or anything.”
I asked because I honestly wanted to know. But also, because it was a segue. I had more, very unrelated questions, and I knew Jasmine would answer them.
“Nah. That boy? Song machine. Literally, he can rip out tunes and lyrics in a millisecond. Not that he won’t be taking this more seriously. Just that, he’ll have lots to choose from. If you know what I mean?”
“I think so.” I said, “So he’s splitting from his bandmate though. Sounds shitty. What do you think he’ll do?”
“He hasn’t wanted to talk about it too much. Part of me is happy. Even though he got screwed, he’s better off without Jason. I liked Jay, he was fun and everything, but he had drug problems. Drake has a real shot at either being a front man, or maybe writing songs for other people. I don’t know. But what I do know, from my own life, and wanting to be the best at something, is you have to work fucking hard. Harder than everyone else. You can’t be carrying boulders. Unless it’s part of your training.”
She winked. It wouldn’t surprise me if her wink was a hint of the truth.
“You aren’t wrong there. The music industry is cut-throat. I always think of it as having ten seconds to impress someone. You need to create a hell of a lot of ten second opportunities for yourself before you find the producer that gets you. People talk about getting a shot. That’s not a one and done thing. Anyway, Drake mentioned his Mom. Does she support him?”
I was trying to get to it. It was a clunky transition, but I wanted to move closer to Seattle. Ask whether or not he had a girl back home. I didn’t know why I would even think he had one. Not after the way he treated me. But… you just never know.
“His Mom is such a fan. I love her. She’s so cute. I think he might have a hard time leaving her if he needs to get to a bigger scene. I know Jay and Drake argued about that once because Jay wanted to move to New York a long time ago and Drake didn’t want to leave his Mom behind. At least that’s what he said.”
The music got louder as we approached some pop up party. Jasmine’s face beamed, and the music entered her body. She let go of my arm and jiggled her torso and put her arms in the arm. The bass tickled our tummies now.
I only had one more chance. Jas didn’t come here for an interrogation. “Does Drake have a girlfriend?”
Jasmine put her arms down, faced me and grabbed my hand. “No.”
She turned around again and pulled me into the middle of a crowd where men walked around topless in bow ties with platters of fruit and tiny cups with God knows what in them. Women danced in pairs and threes, not crazy nighttime dancing, but like one does when a networking event ramps up a notch.
Jasmine went up behind a “server” his torso bare, his butt bare, all we could see was the tie of an apron ribbon. She tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, Jeeves?”
I couldn’t help but giggle. The “waiter” turned around. He was pretty and had nicer eyebrows than I did.
“Can I help you, Goddess?” He asked Jasmine.
“Mango, please. We’d like to be fed.”
The waiter took a cocktail stick, stabbed a square of mango and put one in Jasmine’s mouth. Then did the same for me.
“Thank you,” I said, chewing the delectable fruit, its sweetness and juice satisfying.
Jasmine pulled me around the party. We trailed like explorers through the bush. Sometimes through literal bush. Most of the time, through breasts painted or decorated with pasties. Sequins. Feathers. Spikes. I never knew breasts could be so expressive. And I loved every minute of my time with Jasmine.
An hour later, after filling ourselves with fresh fruit and daring to drink a cup or two of liquid that I really hoped was only Kool-Aid, we found our bikes again.
As we rode off feeling like I had bonded with Jasmine, I wondered if my Dad had sent me here, less because he wanted his ashes to be left, and more… for me. Being here, despite his death, and the horrible pain that still stabbed at my tear ducts at least a couple times a day, I could see that there was still a lot of life to live. My life would go on. And not just that, but it could still have moments of wonderful.
It was impossible, when at Uyu, not to feel very, very alive. I felt free. Just like he had said he wanted me to feel.
And my defenses were coming down. Drake, even if all he would be was a week long fling, made me realize that there is at least one really great guy out there. One worth my time. And that I could open my heart and he would open his in return.
As I rode back to my tent, I wanted to think that Drake was my first ten second chance at fame. Maybe I’d make it. Maybe I wouldn’t. But it was so important to give it a shot.
Annoyingly, just as fast as I felt optimistic, another thought returned. He lived in Seattle. I lived in L.A. Those two ideas clung to my legs like screaming children.
I rolled my eyes at myself as I parked up my bike by my tent. I wondered if we would run into each other tonight. We hadn’t arranged to see each other. I wished we had.
But when I round the backside of my tent to the front, I heard light music and there he was. Cross-legged on the ground, guitar in hand, plucking an indiscernible, but a sweet sounding melody into the air.
16
After my desert “alone time” session, it occurred to me I had left meeting up with Maeve again to chance. My Mom had always told me, if you want something, go and get it. So, at the risk of looking like a stalker, I went to her tent to wait for her. And though I played a couple tunes on my guitar, trying to concentrate on one song or another, all I could think about was whether she had painted her nipples.
But she had a bikini top on. Of course she did. I didn’t think she was prude, definitely not after watching her ride my dick like a jackhammer, but Maeve was the kind of girl who wanted to be a lady in the street and a freak in the bed. I should have known better than to get my hopes up.
“Heeeeey!” She said brightly, not hiding her pleasure at seeing me.
“Damn,” I snapped my fingers as if I’d just missed out on something, “I came to see what you painted on your boobs.”
“Ha. Yeah. Not my thing. How is a parade of tits a feminist thing? Feels more like a cabaret. I mean, people clapped. Why? Not that there’s anything wrong with a cabaret, or nudity, but… yeah. Never mind. I sound judgmental now.”
“I knew you wouldn’t paint yours.”
“Why’s that?” She almost sounded offended, like I didn’t think she was cool. She liked me more than I thought. She cared about my opinion.
“Just that you’re, you know… classy.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. And my Mom would be thrilled to hear it. She was a debutante.”
Maeve flipped imaginary hair over her shoulder.
“What’s that? Like the southern belle thing? I imagine big gowns and a woman walking down the staircase of a mansion?”
“Nailed it. I’m twenty-six
and she still tries to sneak pink taffeta into my wardrobe. She’s fun, though. For a princess.” She gave a crooked smirk. “Anyway, glad you came. Assuming you came for me and not the Kink Dome?”
I leaned my guitar against her tent and stood up. I wanted to scoop her up into my chest and kiss her wildly. Pull her into my body until we melted into one another. Even though we had been closer than a kiss last night. Closer than an embrace. Still. We hardly knew each other. Would I be coming on too strong, claiming her as mine in the daylight?
This situation between us was powerful and unpredictable. I liked her. A lot. But if I let myself fall too far, it was going to hurt when I went back to Seattle. And maybe for her, too. It made me think I should hold back.
It would have been easy to think that it was fate that brought us together and that we could rise above the circumstances. But a self-sabotaging voice inside said Pika and Joey were the actual reasons I saw her for a second time at the Kink Dome. And a third at Laundro-man. Maybe it was just one of those holiday romances. Maybe it would hurt harder to keep trying than to let go on Sunday morning.
These details were like pebbles in my shoe. I had to admit it meant something that I kept running. Chasing her down even though the details gave me blisters.
“I’m pretty sure I have the song down. For Saturday, I mean.”
She moved a step closer. Well inside my circle of personal space. Her head tilted almost as far back as it could go to gaze up at me.
“Thank you. Jas said that she and Koa would do a Hawaiian send off, too?”
“Hope you don’t mind I said something? I didn’t ask them to do something, just told them, after the pirate ship… about me joining you,” I was bumbling, “I just felt... I don’t know. Just needed to tell someone? Then when I told them about me joining you and they kind of invited themselves.”
Her chest puffed up with an inhale. She let it go before speaking “Well, it does feel weird if I’m being honest. Strangers knowing my business? I usually keep my cards on my chest. But, Dad would have loved this. And I’m doing it for him so he would have said the more the merrier.”
I looked down at this beautiful nymph-like woman. Her thick, shiny black hair falling behind her like a mystical waterfall. Her eyes sparkling with the kind of smarts that spelled trouble. She was the kind of woman that could outwit me. And I wanted her to. It was like being wrapped around someone’s finger, yet protecting the very knot that keeps you there.
She put her hands on either side of my waist and shook me playfully.
“I’d invite you in the tent,” she said, reading my thoughts, “But it’s kinda nasty in there during the day. Hot as hell. Maybe worse.”
I would have happily licked the sweat off her.
Scrubbing my dirty thoughts, I asked, “Tell me about Chicks on Wheels.”
“The Tour de Boobs? It was great, but mostly because I was with Jasmine. And they fed us mango. I’m a sucker for a good mango. And as you know, I highly welcome any and all unprocessed food right now.”
“So you had a good time with Jas?”
“You know I did. She’s… she’s just easy good company. Fun, light-hearted. Straight-forward. She invited me to watch her next competition in Kauai. So I guess that means she likes me, too.”
“You really should go. Not like she wins every time. But there’s something about watching someone you actually know take on a big wave. It’s courage you’ve never seen.”
“I bet.”
Fucking small talk. The death of everything good in life.
“Listen,” I said, finally letting two finers risk running through her raven hair. I smoothed it behind her ear and she turned her face to my hand, like a cat enjoying a stroke. “I wanted to see if you’d come out with us again tonight? If you need some time alone though, I won’t be offended.”
She moved even closer to me. "Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yeah. As close as I can to it. I mean, it’s not the best date because the Tribe will be there. But it’s Friday night. We should celebrate. Enjoy. Party. Tomorrow is the ceremony. Then…”
I kicked at the dust. Then… home.
Then Seattle.
L.A.
And wondering. Wondering if we’d text or Facetime each other. Shit. At this point, we haven’t even swapped any details. I never wanted a long distance relationship before.
I wanted to find that person where we gelled so much we wanted to be together all the time. Maybe “the One” would love music the way I do. And we’d go to gigs, and she’d hang out with me at jam sessions. She’d love art. She’d think too much for her own good. Like Maeve.
Yeah, the girl in my dreams was just like Maeve. Only the girl in my dreams could come to my shows on a Saturday night and give me someone in the back of the room to sing to.
Maeve laced her fingers through mine. She looked at the ground as well. Staring at it like we tried to read tea leaves. Hoping some answer appeared in the patterns left in the dust. At any rate, I wasn’t the only one wondering. I could tell she thought about it, too.
“I’d love to go out with you tonight…” then she looked up, ours eyes meeting, her face something between melancholy and joy, “There’s no place I’d rather be. And that’s saying something around here.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I pressed my palm against hers and rubbed my thumb along her index finger.
“Aw!!” A sudden, loud voice exclaimed from behind me, “I love love.”
I turned around and saw a middle-aged woman, old school Uyu, with hair in tons of long braids. She looked at us, her arms crossed around her as if giving herself a hug.
Maeve’s fingers started to let go, but I grabbed them back and held her hand as the woman approached.
“Aren’t you two a picture of perfection? Tristan and I didn’t look half as gorgeous as you two twenty years ago.”
Maeve said nothing but looked at me, questioning. Would I contradict? Would I say we were just friends? I didn’t.
Maeve said, flicked her hand toward the woman, “This is Isolde, leader of Sedna,” another flick toward me, “Isolde this is Drake.”
“Hi Drake,” Isolde came over and hugged me, I pat her back with my one free hand. “Gosh. Drake and Maeve,” she stood back and admired me, a pervy and forward look from my chest to my dick.
Then Isolde looked at Maeve, scrunched her face with delight, and bit her lower lip. It was so cheesy and innocent it made both Maeve and I puff out an amused chuckle through our noses.
“Well, Maeve, looks like you found good company this week. I started to worry about you last night when you didn’t come back. Just thought, where on earth did she brush her teeth?”
Maeve looked up to the sky, a stiff, sheepish grin on her face. I did like watching Maeve wriggle. I couldn’t help myself. “Isolde, I might not have her back by curfew tonight either. Is that okay?”
Maeve’s head snapped toward me, her mouth open. Then she pursed her pouty lips, her cheeks round. Pinchable. Kissable.
“In all seriousness, Drake.” Isolde purred, “I promised someone very special I’d look out for this one. But I’ll trust you with her for tonight.”
She began walking away, but turned for one last piece of advice before she stepped into the dome, “Use a condom.”
I pulled Maeve’s hand so her body bumped into mine. Somehow, Isolde’s approval felt like holy orders. Ordained by the high priestess of Uyu. Who could know more about sex and love than the Queen of Sedna?
Maeve may not be mine come Sunday. But she was mine tonight. Tomorrow. Come what may, for forty-eight hours she was mine.
So close now, I felt one of her breasts push into my abs. Her nipple hardened.
“Isolde is funny.”
“Very. I like her.”
“She’s nice.”
I pulled Maeve in for a hug and kissed the top of her head. My cock pressing up against her stomach, just the thought of being so close to her enough
to make my primal brain send blood to it. I knew she felt it twitch. Might as well make my intentions known. In the time we had left, I fully intended to have her.
But not now. I didn’t want to let go of this opportunity to be alone with her on the Plain. And make some memories.
“I know you just got back but would you like to see a couple more installations before getting ready for tonight?”
“I would love to.”
We hopped on our bikes, and I took her to back out onto the Plain. What a surreal place to fall for someone. I felt like the Cheshire Cat, enamored with Alice. The pair of us off to play croquet with flamingoes.
Ten minutes later, we rolled up to a huge, colorful pyramid, with semi-opaque sides. Almost transparent. As if made of stained glass. The pyramid was at least twelve, maybe fifteen feet tall and big enough for us to walk inside. Aztec patterns zigzagged up and down, the experience almost dizzying.
It was just the two of us in there. The world grew quieter and the light, streaming in, glowed on Maeve’s porcelain skin in muted shades of green, orange and red.
“Wow,” she said, walking to the edge wall of the structure, “Are these gummy bears?”
“My God, they are. Crazy. It must have taken a year to construct something like this. Hope they got a good deal on the bears.”
“Mmm.”
“Wanna sit for a minute?”
She shook her head yes. I took a couple crumpled up shirts out of my backpack for us to sit on.
“Wish I had some champagne. This would have been one hell of a romantic picnic spot.”
“Yeah.”
Her face illuminated with color, she didn’t even look real.
“I wanted to tell you something. While we are alone. And sober,” I said, “Something that I was thinking about while I was on my own today.”
She shifted. It could have been the hard ground on her sit bones. Or maybe it was my sudden serious tone.
“While I was out today, alone, at the edge of all this craziness, my head cleared up. I had a chance to think. It occurred to me that… that tomorrow, and me being at your Dad’s ceremony, and me writing a song for it… it’s the most intimate thing I’ve every done with a woman. And I really wanted to tell you that.”