One Hit Wonder (7 page)

“Nah.” John regarded them with mild attention, sitting under a tree on the curb beside the bus with his guitar cradled on his lap.

“Are you working on a new song?” Audrey thought she’d seen a flicker in John’s eyes when he looked at her and felt her cheeks heat up. Oh, hell. She wanted to pinch those little traitors.

“You can say that.”

As they started their hike, Matt told her the band had hundreds of songs composed by John. However, not all having earned his approval, he continued to work on them endlessly.

Matt and Audrey hiked hard; embarrassment can be a huge motivator, she discovered. Usually, she and Matt talked quite a bit, but she dreaded he was going to ask her about their conversation at the bar the night before, so she kept a steady pace. She didn’t have any excuse to give him besides being drunk, which Matt wouldn’t accept easily. He’d seen her drink much more without losing her composure. She could handle her alcohol and he knew it.

“Am I being punished for something?” He asked, bending over with his hands on his knees.

Turning back to look at him, she couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s the matter Charlie Brown? Don’t think you can make it?”

“If I had known today was boot-camp day, I would still be in bed.”

“Oh, come on. No pain, no gain, remember?”

Matt’s flushed face and ragged breathing told her words of encouragement wouldn’t work. Obviously, he didn’t have any troubling thoughts to distract him from the exertion.

“Let’s head back.” She marched down the trail and patted his back as he gave her a grateful smile.

Nearing John again, still sitting in the same position as they had left him, she bit her lips and took in the view. The very sight of him wreaked a havoc of emotions inside her; she could barely recognize herself.

“How is it coming?” Matt asked John. “Do you need an audience?” He teased, but John responded with a contemptuous look.

John and Matt were the two people she didn’t need to be around. The last thing she wanted was John to find out about her feelings through a petty attempt to undermine a joke or smart-ass remark Matt could make.

“Okay, then. I’m off to town, I need some things.” Audrey walked away, feeling Matt’s and John’s eyes on her back.

When she came back later in the afternoon, the guys were watching TV in the hotel room that was transformed in the band’s headquarters. So far, only Kevin, Matt, and Tyler had slept in it, but they’d all used the shower. How they got the clerk to agree to such arrangement was beyond her grasp, but she had gotten her own room. It was all she needed to know.

There was some reality show marathon on TV and the boys laughed and criticized at the same time.

“Are you going out for dinner tonight?” Audrey asked, looking at the TV and flinching at the image of a girl wearing hot pink tongues sticking out from a pair of low-rise jeans.

“Forget it,” Kevin said.

“No way, we’ve ordered pizza,” Matt said.

“Snooki is about to get in the hot tub.” Tyler said, and Rob nodded.

She crossed the room toward the bottle of tequila over a corner table and poured herself a shot. John sat on one of the chairs with his heels propped on the table.

“Do you want to have dinner? I’ve got to have a real meal.” Audrey circled her finger around the rim of the glass.

“Sure.” If he was surprised by her invitation, he didn’t show it.

“In one hour, then.” She swigged the tequila, wincing at the burn.

As she walked in front of the TV, Kevin grabbed her by the waist. “Let’s watch Jersey Shore together. We need a female’s point of view.”

She freed herself and squeezed his nose, saying, “over my dead body,” and pushed him onto the bed.

In her room, she laid the dress perfectly flat on the bed, pale pink with tiny black flowers and vines that from the distance looked like spider webs. It had been weeks since she had worn a dress. Jeans and casual tops had been her uniform — the appropriate wardrobe when you hang around a bunch of guys you’re not trying to impress. That night was different because she wanted to impress a guy. Thinking about him had become a torture, with heat scorching her skin every time he walked by. She had given it a lot of thought and had come up with three likely outcomes for the night; one — he would refuse her, she would be utterly embarrassed, and would have to get over him and move on; two — they would sleep together but he wouldn’t want anything beyond that, so she would have to get over him and move on; and three — he would reciprocate her feelings and they would make incandescent love all night. She knew in all of those scenarios, there was still a potential hiccup — the band. Leaving them mid-tour because of an affair gone sour was an outcome she didn’t want to consider.

In the shower, she tried to remember if she had ever been this nervous about going out with a man. Since the night John had fallen asleep in her room in Augusta she couldn’t think about anything else. She closed her eyes and remembered his arms around her, carrying her to the bus when she cut her foot. She could feel electricity between them, but he’d never made a move.

Perhaps the amounts of testosterone and tequila inside the tour bus clouded her perception — Kevin, Matt, and Tyler acted like the Three Stooges. Rob was reserved and focused on doing his job. And John? John was untroubled, serious, and kind. There seemed to be a universe inside him where he got everything he needed — the wisdom and contentment people spent their entire lives searching for.

She fought off a sudden wave of dizziness, but it was too late to bail. So, the least she could do was to bring out her guns, which meant buttering up with lotion, lacy panties — the uncomfortable kind — and smokey eyes. She slipped on the dress and put on her boots, and styled her long brown hair to accentuate its natural curls, put a dab of lip balm on her lips and a drop of perfume behind her earlobes. She blushed at her reflection in the mirror.

• • •

Exactly one hour had passed when she pushed the door open and walked into the room. All gazes fell on her, but she played it down.

“So?” She twirled around.

Silence.

“Wow!” Tyler finally said.

John had changed his shirt and by the smell of soap and damp hair, she assumed he had managed to take a shower. The tequila bottle was almost empty, and the pizza had been reduced to crumbs inside its open box. She hoped he hadn’t eaten any of it; despite everything else, she was hungry.

“Let’s go,” she urged him.

They had to walk less than ten minutes to get to the restaurant. They were staying at a motel off the highway and, since driving the tour bus to anywhere was too much of a hassle, the best they could do under the circumstances was a Macaroni Grill across the street.

“This should be fun,” she said.

“What?”

“Having a grown-up meal, just the two of us.”

“Are you serious? Who is the grown up here?”

Stop over-thinking.

After all, it was John. They’d spent time together, they knew each other. Yet she felt a cloud of ambiguity hovering over them and John must had felt it as well, because he decided to blow it over before it became a storm.

He held her arm to make her stop before they walked up the steps to the restaurant, and said, “Audrey, just so we’re clear … ”

Oh, God. He is putting me in my place right now.

“Are you looking for an excuse to wear your new dress or…what is this?”

“John…” Only, what to say? I think you’re cool and I was hoping to get laid tonight. If true, it could work with any other of the guys, but not with John. She didn’t know what this was, she suspected was more than sex, otherwise sleeping with Kevin or Tyler would —

Before she found the words to answer his question, he leaned forward and kissed her. His hands held the small of her back and pulled her close. Her heart punched in her chest, as if an alien was trying to rip her ribcage open. She placed her arms around his neck and kissed him back. The smell of his skin, the warmth of his lips, and the taste of his tongue was intoxicating. She wanted to undress him right there, but instead she summoned the strength to say, “Let’s eat,” and with a hand on his chest, pushed herself gently out of his arms.

He gave her the same smile she’d seen only once. It made her feel like a tiny leaf that, tossed by the wind, had traveled the world to come to that spot, at that instant, to witness that smile. One thing she’d learned about John and could not take for granted: he didn’t open himself frivolously to everyone. At that moment, he was opening himself to her in his smile. She let out the slightest sigh of satisfaction as he touched her forehead with his. It seemed they had shared the same fears and the same desires all along and, as the realization dawned on her, she laughed out loud; and so did he.

Gesso arches were stenciled with vines not burdened by the weight of the full and round grape bunches painted on them. A short line of burgundy-colored upholstered booths were dimly lit by low-hanging lamps above the tables and votive candles inside stained glass holders. The porcelain-faced hostess led them to the last booth, handed out the menus, and left with the same enthusiasm of a funerary home attendant.

“Not sure about the food, but her enthusiasm is contagious.” Audrey looked at him mockingly.

“That’s the beauty of chain restaurants, If you’ve been to one, you already know what to expect — at least from the food.”

When the waitress came over bearing two glasses of water, John ordered a Chianti from the wine list.

Audrey looked over the menu, but the only thing she could think about was the interrupted kiss in the parking lot. She should have taken him back to her room and ordered pizza, now she had to sit across the table and make casual conversation. How could she feel she knew everything that was to know about him, when in reality she knew nothing at all? A musician, older sibling, deceased mother, incredibly kind and attentive. Shy. Sexy. Soft lips.

“Tell me about your family.” John lifted his glass and took a sip of wine. As always, if he was nervous, she couldn’t tell. The waitress reappeared and they ordered: fettuccine alfredo for him and four cheese ravioli for her.

“I’m the only child. My mother is Brazilian, and she met my dad when she came to the U.S. to work as a caregiver to an elderly gentleman whose daughter was too busy to do it herself.”

“Have you been to Brazil?” The waitress sat their salads in front of them.

“Yes, many times. My family used to spend summers there. Well, my father couldn’t stay more than two weeks because of his job. But after he returned to the U.S., my mother and I would spend the rest of vacation living like typical Brazilians at my grandparent’s farm in the middle of the country.”

“A farm, really?”

“Yes, that’s where my mom grew-up. My grandparents still live there.”

“What did you do on a farm for a whole summer?”

“Lots of things. I’ve helped my grandfather milk the cows, ride horses, swim in the river, cook with my grandmother on a wood-stove.”

“That’s neat.”

“It was. I have cousins my age, so we played around mango trees all day. When we were hungry, we could just pluck a mango off the tree and eat it.

“Cool.”

“Actually, they are in peak in November, when twenty-eight mango trees make the air around the farmhouse fragrant and sweet. I’d pull their skin with my teeth and bite their stringy yellow flesh until I hit the pit. I’d eat so many my gums hurt afterwards.” Audrey said longingly.

“Do you speak Portuguese?” John ferried salad to his mouth with fervor. She guessed he was more relaxed — or nervous — than usual, because she’d never seen him eat like that.

“I think I still do,” she pondered. “I haven’t been to Brazil in ten years.”

“How come? It sounded like you loved it there.”

Suddenly, she was uncomfortable. “My mother started to talk about moving down there for good. My father didn’t want to.” She looked at the table and took a sip of wine. “I grew up and got tired of, um, ah, having to reacquaint myself every summer to the place, the people…I guess — ”

“Say something in Portuguese.” John’s voice was more cheery, and she felt a rush of gratitude for his intervention.

“
Demorei uma eternidade para chegar aqui
.” Audrey’s lips twitched upwards in a tiny smile.

“What does it mean?”

“It took me forever to get here.” She bit her lower lip.

“I know what you mean.” John’s eyes were eager, conspiratorial.

• • •

On the walk back to the hotel he reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers and smiling shyly.

“I want to show you something.” She led him up the same hill she hiked earlier with Matt.

After five minutes, they veered off the trail into a clearing where a patch of grass seemed to thrive. They could see the Winnebago parked sideways in the empty motel parking lot and the town’s scant skyline.

“This view is amazing,” John said.

Yellow lights twinkled in the distance, probably little farm houses not pushed out by urbanization, with bare trees outlined by the moonlight.

“I knew it was going to look great under the moon, a perfect picture of an American small town, like in a vintage postcard.” She sat on the grass and he sat beside her, admiring the view in silence for a while.

He lay down and put his arm out; she rested her head on his chest and they watched the sky. His heart pounded inside his chest as fast as hers and in perfect harmony.

“When I was a kid camping with my parents, sometimes in the back yard, I used to trace the stars. Not to find constellations, but to create whatever shape I wanted.” Even as an adult, she couldn’t recognize any constellations, except by the obvious Big Dipper.

John murmured under his breath, “When I trace the stars I see you.” He was holding a strand of her hair. “That’s a good line.”

“Yes, it is.” She hooked her leg on his and rolled over him, adjusting herself and feeling the bulge growing in his pants as she gently rocked on top of him. It made her tremble with excitement.

They resumed the kiss from the restaurant: sweet and tender in the beginning, but quickly becoming hot and deep as raw desire took over their senses. Under her dress, his hands trailed up her legs, strong and wanting. He sat up with her on his lap, and nibbled at her earlobe and the soft part of her slender neck. Audrey lifted her hands and, untying the knot of her halter dress, pulled it down. John held her gaze, pulled her closer, and kissed her collarbone. She arched her back and closed her eyes as he fondled her breasts and sucked ever so tenderly on her nipples.