Sunday night, Sebastian was a few minutes early. He seemed a little nervous when I let him in, but Mom and Dad greeted him warmly and that seemed to set him at ease some. Jordan was, in fact, home, I informed Sebastian, and showed him out to the back patio where my brother was constructing some kind of pulley device for a stage prop.
“Just come into the studio when you’re ready,” I said. “I’m heading in there now.”
Ani was already in the mixing room with a bottle of glass cleaner and a roll of paper towels. If it wasn’t for her, the studio would be a pig sty, I was certain. She often cleaned and organized while she listened to us rehearse, but tonight, I knew she planned to focus on my interaction with Sebastian.
“Poor Tom,” she muttered as I walked in. She was staring at one of the hundreds of pictures on our memories wall, a collage of photos, fliers, ticket stubs, receipts, and all kinds of other weird stuff that meant something to at least someone in the band. The photo she focused on was a band shot she’d taken of us one afternoon at the beach. I was in a pair of cut-off Daisy Dukes and a bright red bikini top, sitting on Tom’s shoulders. High above my head I held a sign that read, “THE EAGLE HAS LEFT THE BUILDING.” Sly, wearing an over-sized Bigfoot hand, and Jon in a horse head mask dueled with light sabers behind us, and Corny was laid out on a surfboard, his combed out afro drifting slightly in the ocean breeze. He wore nothing but a white Speedo and a white tuxedo jacket with tails, the outfit stark and slightly obscene against his dark chocolate skin. It was such a strange and wonderful picture, taken on a strange and wonderful day. We’d just played our first big-venue club in Hollywood the night before—one that wasn’t a pay-to-play house—and felt like we’d been to the moon and back.
“You need to stop saying that, Ani,” I reprimanded her. “Not only does it make me feel like crap, but I have a feeling Tom wouldn’t like it either. I don’t think he’d appreciate you feeling sorry for him.”
Ani cocked her head at me. “You’re right. He’s actually being extremely noble and honorable. I should be proud of him.” Then she hugged me tightly. “And I’m proud of you, too, Tish. I know you could have manipulated him into staying. You’re doing the right thing, too, and I can see it’s hard for you both.”
A few minutes later, the other band members started showing up. Tom arrived first, but after poking his head in to greet us, he disappeared to find Jordan. I didn’t bother giving him a heads up that he’d find Sebastian, too. He’d figure it out soon enough. And if Tom needed to see Jordan alone, Sebastian knew the way to the studio.
Jon and Corny showed up a few minutes before seven, riding together in Jon’s restored 1980 Camaro. Sly was late, which didn’t happen often, but he’d called to warn us, so we got started without him, going over the details of the upcoming gig. By the time we were all plugged in and tuned up, Sly showed up, appropriately apologetic, but brimming with tales of how entertaining, if time-consuming, his little boy was. He was a good daddy, but not necessarily husband material, as far as I could tell. Sly seemed perfectly content to live at home with his parents, raising his son in the same bedroom Sly had grown up in, working odd jobs as they came, but not very motivated to do a whole lot more with his life. I understood. Marauders was my hope for the future, and when—not if—we really took off, Sly would benefit, too.
Before we got started, Tom informed everyone else of his decision to bow out after this Friday, expressing his complete confidence in Sebastian’s ability to step up and in the rest of us to be able to make it happen. No one seemed to balk at the decision, which either spoke volumes for their confidence in Sebastian or everyone was too upset to say anything. But the practice went really well and when we got back to it after a rabid attack on an apple crumb pie Mom had left on the counter for us, Tom sat in the mixing room with Ani, and we worked through another couple of hours with Sebastian playing and singing Tom’s parts.
It was after eleven when we shut things down to talk over the rehearsal plan for the rest of the week. Ani, who had kept the coffee fresh all night for us, had conked out on the sofa in the mixing room sometime during the last hour. We let her sleep and headed into the kitchen to talk.
The guys were thoroughly impressed with Sebastian’s skill and versatility. He played and sang just about everything we threw at him without a hitch. Even the little that was new to him, he picked up quickly just by listening and paying attention. There was a lot of back slapping and hand shaking when it was all over. Tom emailed each of us a recording he’d made of the night’s practice and we all agreed to listen for what we needed to work on.
Jon, Corny, and Sly took off shortly after, and Tom offered to walk Ani across the street. She could have spent the night, but she said Paulo was calling early in the morning and she didn’t want to wake me up with her gushing. I agreed whole-heartedly.
Suddenly, Sebastian and I were alone in the kitchen, sitting across from each other at the island. Tom would be back before long, but at the moment, my parents were in bed, Jordan had either gone out again or was in bed as well, and all around us was a quiet air of hushed anticipation.
“I should go,” he began, but he didn’t get up.
“You don’t have to leave right away.” Man, I hoped that didn’t sound as desperate to him as it did me. “I mean, if you’re tired, of course. I just get so amped up after rehearsals, it takes me a little while to decompress.”
Sebastian smiled at me, a slow upward curl of the corners of his mouth. “I know what you mean. This whole thing has been a first for me.” He dropped his gaze to the coffee cup he held between his hands, his thumbs rubbing over the handle repeatedly.
“A first?”
“Never played with a band before Marauders.” As I watched him, his cheeks flushed a little.
“Really? Have you played with other musicians?” I was so curious about his musical history, about his dreams for the future. He didn’t respond right away and I jumped in again. “I mean, for your first time playing with a band, you’re really amazing. Especially trying to fill the shoes of someone else. You’ve slipped into Marauders’ groove almost seamlessly, and I’m impressed. We’re all impressed. You, Sebastian Jeffries, are brilliant.” His blush deepened, so I kept going. “The sound you get out of your guitars? Wow. But your voice. Barnacles, man. How do you do it?” Now I was gushing, but I liked the way he was responding. I reached over and touched the back of his wrist with one finger, the memory of his reaction when I’d touched his arm yesterday flashing momentarily through my mind.
His smile widened as he turned his hand over and wrapped his strong fingers around mine before I could pull away again. “Thanks, Miss Ransome.” His eyes lifted, and even though he was still clearly flushed with pleasure over my words, I saw something else in his gaze. That hunger again. “You make it really easy to let go of my inhibitions and just play what I’m feeling.” He drew my hand toward him so I had to lean a little closer. In a quiet murmur, he said, “When we played together, just you and me, last week? That was a first, too. And I’ll never forget it.”
“Oh,” I mouthed, my voice failing me completely. So he had felt it, that magic we’d made together. His eyes dropped to my lips and stayed there, his fingers tightening over mine. Everything around us seemed to come to a halt as time held its breath.
The front door opened, and we both retreated to our respective sides of the counter, my hands dropping into my lap, his gripping his coffee cup again.
“That was incredible,” Tom declared cheerily as he came up behind me and draped his beautiful, big arms around my shoulders, crossing them just under my chin. He gave me a tight squeeze that made breathing difficult, and leaned down to kiss my cheek. Nothing out of the ordinary for us, but I felt self-conscious about how affectionate we were with each other in front of Sebastian. Without releasing me, Tom stood behind me and rested his chin on top of my head. “Sebastian, you’re a Godsend, buddy. Just exactly what this band needs.” He chuckled and nuzzled my ear. “I don’t know how Tish is going to survive without me, but at least I can leave next week knowing Marauders is in good hands.”
“Thanks,” Sebastian replied, not blushing at Tom’s compliments the way he had mine. “I’m glad I could be of help.” In fact, Sebastian’s features had taken on that carefully blank expression again.
And in a flash of clarity, I knew what Tom was doing. In spite of yesterday’s tumultuous roller coaster ride, the man was casually, but effectively, staking his claim on me again, letting Sebastian know exactly how things stood around here. Tom was making it clear that I was, for all intents and purposes, off limits, at least while he was still around and had a say in the matter.
Although I didn’t want to embarrass him, I was ticked.
I caught Sebastian’s eye and was dismayed to see his expression hooded. His smile was definitely mocking, no trace of the earlier intimacy between us.
I was really ticked.
Pushing to my feet, I disentangled myself from Tom’s embrace and reached across the island for Sebastian’s cup. I purposefully wrapped my fingers around his and squeezed, my eyes locked with his. “Let me take your cup, Sebastian,” I said, speaking evenly and politely. “Or do you want a refill?” I hoped he’d get my hint that I wanted him to stay.
As often as we stayed late after shows together, Tom was not a night owl like me. In fact, he had an internal clock that seemed to shut down like—well, like clockwork by midnight if we weren’t high on performance endorphins. The moment he stopped moving, he practically passed out. I knew he had early morning plans with his mother, too, so I was banking on him not being able to stay. Like Ani with her parents, Tom was spending as much time as he could with Mrs. Campbell before he left. Tom chuckled, but there was a wary edge to it. “I need to get going, Tish. Breakfast with Mom.” His mom was an early bird, and Sunday breakfast together was a time-honored tradition for the two of them.
He turned to Sebastian. “You heading out?” It was not a question.
Before Sebastian could respond, I jumped in, tipping my head toward him. “I wanted to go over a few vocals with you while they’re fresh in my mind. You good to stay for a few more minutes?”
Sebastian narrowed his gaze at me, and after a moment, shook his head. “I better get going. Work in the morning. Maybe I can come by early on Tuesday?”
“Oh. Right. Sure.” It felt like a brush-off, like he was putting me in my place.
He stood and handed me the mug I’d offered to refill for him. “Thanks, Tish. Good coffee.” He grinned at me, but I turned away quickly, not wanting him to see how flustered I felt, how disappointed. “I’ll just grab my guitars from the studio. I’ve got some homework to do between now and Tuesday night.”
“Sure,” I said again, and then said to Tom, “Can I walk you out?” Before he could answer, I took his arm and steered him toward the front door. Once out on the porch, he grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me to face him.
“You all right? You good with the way things went tonight? With Sebastian?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, keeping my voice bright. I smiled up at him. “I thought it went great.”
“You cool with me?” Now he sounded like Sebastian. “I wasn’t too pushy tonight with the band? I know I was yelling out orders left and right.”
“Like I said, I thought it went great. Really. I’m cool with you.” I was starting to loathe that statement. “This change is killing me, so I can only imagine what it’s doing to you.”
He studied me for a few moments. Under the porch light, his eyes seemed unguarded, open, but for the first time in as long as I could remember, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Finally, he pulled me close and hugged me tightly.
“Love you, Tish,” he murmured against my hair.
Wrapping my arms around his waist, I hugged him back. I wasn’t angry at Tom, just at his machinations to keep anything from brewing between me and Sebastian while he was still around. I didn’t need Tom to do that for me. “I love you, too, you big lug. Now go home and get some beauty sleep so your mother won’t worry too much about sending you off to adult land.” I leaned back in his embrace and patted his cheek. “And give your mom my love, okay?”
Tom released me and I backed up toward the door behind me, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Goodnight.” I heard the resignation in his voice and noted the sad smile on his face was back, too.
“Goodnight,” I echoed. “See you Tuesday night.”