A Light in the Dark Page 11

  But Sebastian wasn’t Tom. Sebastian had wings that might be even more spectacular than mine. What if Sebastian wanted to fly, too? Could we soar together or would one of us always want to fly higher, closer and closer to the sun, until somebody got burned?

  Later that night, lying in bed, his song lingered in my mind, keeping me stirred up and restless. I finally fell asleep out of pure exhaustion in the early hours of the morning.

  I am consumed, I’m fascinated

  I am immortal when I am with her

  I am yesterday, she’s forever

  I am nothing when I’m without her.

  ***

  We worked with the whole band on Sunday night, and by the end of the practice session, Sebastian seemed to be settling in nicely. He had his work cut out for him, because not only did we have four albums’ worth of our own music he needed to learn, but we also took on extra gigs where we played a lot of covers. We especially loved 80’s arena rock music and rarely turned down anyone willing to pay us to play Bon Jovi, Van Halen, and Journey hits.

  Corny had landed us several smaller post-graduation parties that paid really well, but other than those and our two Fridays a month at Taylors, we’d kept our June calendar pretty clear so we could focus on filling Tom’s shoes before he left in July. We had a gig this Friday night, in fact, and we all felt pretty confident that Sebastian could pull his weight. It wasn’t a show, nor was it even really about Marauders, but we were a good live band and knew how to make a party snappy.

  We didn’t love the small gigs like these—they made us feel too much like wedding singers—but these were well-timed as stepping stones for Sebastian to transition into his place. Certainly a lot less pressure than he’d feel at our bigger venues. Besides, Tom could use the extra money we made on the easy jobs. Moving was expensive, even when a guy did have a solid job waiting for him on the other end of the line.

  We normally practiced every Sunday and Thursday night, from seven PM until we were ready to call it quits, usually between ten and eleven so we didn’t keep Dad and Mom up or get the neighbors in a tizzy. The studio was well-insulated, but we played loudly and didn’t want to give anyone a reason to call the cops on us. My parents weren’t really early birds, but most nights, when the clock struck ten, they closed themselves up in their master bedroom and left us in charge of battening down the hatches. It worked really well for us to have a late night snackfest and go over any necessary business before sending everyone home. Sometimes Tom stayed, but he usually just ended up passing out on the sofa in front of the television with me or Jordan. He was really hard to wake up, so as soon as I saw his head start to bob, I kicked him out, too.

  During my free time that week, I helped Tom sort through his apartment, boxing up the things he wanted to keep but wouldn’t need before he moved, liberally throwing out useless stuff people typically had lying around—dried up pens that never made it to the trashcan, half-used notepads, single socks, T-shirts that were more like rags, old stinky shoes, magazines, etcetera—and doing lots of laundry and heavy-duty cleaning so he could get his damage deposit back when he moved out. We’d have to paint a few walls, too, but we’d wait until the place was empty to do that.

  The week passed quickly, thank goodness. I did my best not to think too much about Sebastian, about the extraordinary fact that he was part of Marauders. I was having a really difficult time lining up the guy who’d sat behind me in sullen silence for almost five months of music theory with the guy who played like Stevie Ray Vaughan and Nuno Bettencourt rolled up into one.

  Thursday’s practice went off without a hitch, Sebastian wowing us all with how much he’d mastered in just a few days, so we loaded him up with a stack of old CDs we had lying around the studio that included most of the cover tunes we played. He took it all in stride, and after everyone left at the end of the night, I went back into the studio and just sat there in a silence impregnated by possibility.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Friday’s party was just fluff for us, the kind of gig we didn’t brag about but weren’t too proud to accept when it came packaged in a nice bank roll. We played two one-hour sets, doing mostly older Marauders tunes off our albums that people were familiar with, mixed in among popular dance party covers, and even a few special requests, much to the delight of Belinda, our host, and her champagne-injected friends. We knew Belinda didn’t love our music particularly, but she had a mega crush on Tom and had been asking us to play for one of her parties for months. Apparently, the girl had lots of parties. Belinda’s dad wasn’t in the picture. Her mother’s career took her away from home for a few days at a time several times a month, and she trusted Belinda to keep it under control. Word down the grapevine was that Belinda did just that; she hosted a good party but seemed to know when to call it a wrap. As in, before the police had to come and break things up.

  I’d warned Tom not to let on that he was moving until close to the end of the party, so as not to ruin Belinda’s night. But much to my chagrin, she’d taken one look at Sebastian and hadn’t seemed nearly as upset about Tom’s pending departure as I’d expected. I did my best not to notice how much she was enjoying herself, even when someone requested “Super Freak” and Tom crooked a finger at her, inviting her to come up and share a microphone with him. She couldn’t sing, but she made up for it with moves that would make Madonna blush, especially when Tom graciously let her use him as a prop. Sebastian, to my relief, stayed back and let Tom have the honors all to himself.

  The tip, though, was more than we’d ever made off a party, so yay. Go get her, Tom.

  Tom and I sent the rest of the band home right after the party was over, and then brought the equipment back to the studio, leaving it stacked and ready to reload for Saturday’s gig. My street was pretty safe, but there was no tempting fate when it came to our gear. When everything was safely stashed inside, we sat on his tail gate and talked about the future. Mostly his, because mine wasn’t changing a whole lot, other than losing him and possibly Ani. Part of me didn’t want to hear the details of his new job, his new apartment, about the Washington State family members I’d never met, mainly because every word was like another note in his farewell song to me. But I could tell he needed to talk, so I let him. Everything he said sounded so grown up, so final, so certain, but I knew Tom well. The tightness in his voice might have been simply because he’d enjoyed singing Super Freak a little more than necessary, but it was more likely because he was facing the future a little bit afraid. I just sat beside him, holding his hand while he talked, my head resting against his shoulder, wishing we could stay like that forever.

  Saturday morning, I woke up late, having crawled in bed sometime after two. I stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen for coffee and was surprised to find Tom and Jordan sitting at the island, heads bent toward each other, talking quietly. They stopped suddenly when I walked in and I grinned. “What are you two gossiping about?”

  I opened the refrigerator, hoping to find some kind of juice, but settled for a plum instead. I took a bite, the sweet, tart burst of flavor a delicious way to wake up my taste buds. I eyed the two guys, neither of whom had said anything since my interruption.

  Tom hit me with that wide-mouth smile of his and I shook my head. Barnacles, I was going to miss those teeth. I picked up the empty coffee pot and held it up. “Why didn’t anyone make coffee?”

  “It’s noon, Squeak. You want coffee, make it yourself.” Jordan pushed up off his stool and held his hand across the counter to Tom. “I have a few things to wrap up before tonight. I’ll see you around.”

  Tom shook Jordan’s hand, nodded, and then focused his attention on me as my brother headed down the hall to his bedroom. “Want to head over to Siena Cafe and get some of Mama Dosh’s coffee? It’s Saturday.”

  “Yes!” I bounced up and down a few times in my excitement, my curiosity over whatever they’d been discussing quickly waning. Saturday at Siena Cafe meant the best homemade cinnamon rolls on the planet, as
well as some insanely good coffee. “Can I invite Ani to join us?” I didn’t pick up on any vibe that he wanted to be alone with me, and Tom knew full well that Siena Cafe was one of Ani and my favorite places to hang out on a Saturday.

  “I already called her,” he said with a smile. “You have ten minutes to get ready.” I circled the island and hugged him, kissing him on the ear. He was so accustomed to me assaulting him in one way or another that he hardly even flinched. He laughed as I sauntered away, singing “She’s a very freaky girl….”

  A knock on the bathroom door told me my time was up, and when Ani poked her head inside at my invitation, I was just putting on my last coat of mascara. I figured my uber-long lashes were God’s compensation for the freckles and I played them up big time.

  “You ready? I’m craving me some elderberry coffee cake today.”

  I gaped at Ani. “Not a cinnamon roll? It’s Saturday, dude!” I was just teasing her. Every time we went together, I got the cinnamon roll, she got her coffee cake, and we shared.

  ***

  “Hi kids,” Mama Dosh greeted us warmly. The place, a small warehouse converted into a funky coffee shop, was hopping as usual. “Fresh batch of sweet rolls coming out in ten minutes. Want to wait?” She came around the counter to hug us, but paused in front of Tom, a chubby hand on his cheek. “How you doing, honey? All ready for your big move?” How the woman kept up with everyone’s lives was beyond me.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He gave her a quick hug.

  “Seattle is getting itself a prize, that’s all I can say.” She eyed a group that came in after us and bustled back around to the register to finish taking our order. “Can I get you started on some drinks while you wait for the pastries?”

  Miraculously, we found an empty table, but with only two chairs. Ani and I squeezed together on one, each of us with barely more than a butt cheek on the seat. “You can sit on my lap, Tish,” Tom offered, patting his thighs.

  “Perv,” I retorted, but took him up on it anyway. Maybe if we made someone uncomfortable enough with our PDA, they’d leave in disgust and we could snag another chair. “Just don’t touch my tush, okay? That would be crossing the line.”

  “You’re sitting on me, Tish. I kinda have to make contact with your booty.” But he raised both hands in the air and laughed.

  “So how did it go last night?” Ani asked. The party had been exclusive so she hadn’t attended—Ani knew Belinda by reputation only—but she always asked about our shows. She was extra curious about last night, though, as she had yet to officially meet Sebastian, or hear him play.

  Tom and I regaled her with a few of the highlights of the night, and before long, our pastries were ready. Ani and Tom insisted I stay and hold our table while they got our food. I was good with that; I’d gotten a song idea about drinking alone in a crowded coffee house. I began furiously typing the lyrics into my phone before the idea slipped away.

  “Need an extra chair?”

  I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  In spite of the semester of silence between us, after just a few weeks of listening to him talk, sing, and even laugh a little, I immediately recognized Sebastian’s voice in the busy cafe. The idea kind of stunned me into silence. I lifted my eyes to meet his, but said nothing.

  Sebastian grinned at my muteness. “Too much singing last night? Lose your voice?” he teased. “Here.” He slid a third chair up to the table beside mine, and turned to grab another he’d rounded up from somewhere. He’d obviously seen Tom and Ani with me. Which meant he’d seen me sitting on Tom’s lap.

  “Who cares?” I muttered, finding my voice at the worst time ever.

  “What was that?” Sebastian cocked his head to one side, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

  “Nothing!” I responded quickly. “I was talking to myself. I do that sometimes.” Utterly mortified, I cleared my throat. “What are you doing here?” Oh, for the love of all that is good and gory! T-bird, you shouldn’t speak.

  “I invited him,” Tom said, coming up behind me, rescuing me from myself and my insolent tongue. “Sebastian.” The two guys nodded brusquely in greeting, and Tom set a ceramic plate holding a huge cinnamon roll dripping with cream cheese frosting down in front of me.

  Ani was right behind Tom, two more plates in her hand. She smiled at Sebastian and I introduced them. He did remember speaking to her at a few of our shows. “I wondered if you were connected to the band somehow. I saw you back at the merch table with Corny a couple of times, too.”

  “Oh, right. Well, it’s good to officially meet you,” she said.

  He was still standing and held the chair for her to sit down in. “I’m going to grab a cup of coffee. Be right back.”

  When Tom looked away for a moment, Ani nodded her head toward Sebastian’s retreating back and fanned herself, and I tried not to roll my eyes at her.

  “So,” I said pointedly to Tom after I’d taken a too-huge bite of cinnamon roll. That was the only word I could get out around the gooey deliciousness, but it was how we often started conversations, and I was really curious about why he’d invited Sebastian to join us. I didn’t think it was because Tom wanted to be pals with the guy. Then I noticed Ani was acting rather oddly, too, much more focused on her coffee cake than etiquette demanded. I swallowed the bite before I should have, gagged it down with a swig of slightly too hot coffee, and swung the tine-end of my fork back and forth between them. “You two are up to something.”

  Tom shrugged, Ani glanced sheepishly over her shoulder toward Sebastian where he waited at the counter, and I groaned. “Oh no! Seriously? Poor Sebastian. Is this a ‘pick the new guy’s brains’ kind of thing?”

  “Just wanting to know a little more about the guy I’m leaving in my place,” Tom said, confirming my suspicions.

  “Isn’t it a little late to be doing background checks? We’ve already given him the job.” I wasn’t feeling good about this.

  “It’s never too late to do a background check.”

  And then Sebastian was making his way back to our corner table, a small coffee in one hand and a large Siena Cafe paper bag in the other. It looked weighty; the guy must be hungry. But when he sat down, he tucked the bag under his chair and said nothing about it.

  I took another big bite of my roll and caught him watching me. “I’m always good for a trade,” I said, indicating the chunk of pastry I’d given Ani and the piece of her coffee cake sitting on the edge of my plate, waiting to be devoured. “What’s in your lunch box?”

  His expression went blank for a moment. I waved my fork at the bag beneath his seat.

  “Oh.” He busied himself taking the lid off his cup, releasing a puff of steam as he did so. “That’s for a friend.”

  It wasn’t a chastisement, but I felt a little guilty anyway. “Okay, fine. I’m usually good at just sharing, too. Want some?” I held my fork poised over my roll.

  Sebastian smiled, but shook his head. “No thanks. Besides, it’s more fun watching you eat it.” He reached over, almost in slow motion, and brushed his thumb along the dip just below my bottom lip, his forefinger curling under my chin. I froze, too shocked at the way-too-familiar touch to pull away, my eyes widening in surprise. He held up his thumb for me to see the icing he’d just wiped away, and then silenced my embarrassed giggle by licking it clean.

  “Okay. You and me. Outside.” Tom was on his feet, his chair bumping against the wall behind the table. Ani straightened in her seat, clearly ready to jump in where needed.

  Sebastian stayed seated. “Just sat down. What’s up?” There was a challenge in his voice that made my stomach tighten.

  “Guys,” Ani began, placing a hand on Tom’s arm.

  Sebastian leaned back a little and pointed first to Tom, then to me. “Wait. So are you—are the two of you an item?”

  I made a sputtering sound, completely unprepared for how quickly things had gone south. What the heck was going on?

>   “Because after your—whatever that was with freak-girl on stage last night—I just assumed Tish was a free agent.” Sebastian shrugged, the gleam in his eyes belying his casual posture. “Then again, you do seem pretty generous with your affections, so maybe I misunderstood. My bad.”

  It was Tom’s turn to sputter but I had finally found my voice. I knew Sebastian was referring to the kiss he’d witnessed the other day, and maybe even the more recent lap-sitting, and if I’d had a thing for Tom, last night’s bump and grind with Belinda would certainly have been a problem. But Sebastian didn’t know us, and he was making assumptions about Tom, and about me, too, that weren’t his to make.

  “Sit, Tom,” I said, my voice low and a little harsh. “And really, Sebastian? We invite you for coffee and you pick a fight?” I was starting to shake a little, the situation seemed so surreal. Tom’s reaction had been totally out of character, shocking me almost as much as Sebastian’s.

  “He didn’t invite me for coffee, Tish. It’s called sizing up the competition,” Sebastian stated candidly before taking a sip of his black coffee.

  I locked gazes with Tom who still stood, silently pleading with him to calm down. Ani shifted slowly in her seat, almost as though afraid any sudden move might trigger a new outburst. People were watching us, the tension at our table hovering like a dark cloud. But Sebastian was right. This wasn’t about a friendly round of coffee, even though it had taken me a little too long to figure that out.