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I could hear the music long before the darkness let me see anything. Faint at first, but growing louder and louder. Music I recognized. Harper’s song? I couldn’t be sure, but at the same time was and that was enough for me.
And stupid as it sounds, in that moment, I was sure it had been calling me all day like a siren song only the opposite, because once I reach her, it won’t mean my death, but life.
Soon after hearing it, the trees gave way to a rocky shore, covered with driftwood and broken off pine boughs, and the lights of the stage blinded me after walking so long in the darkness.
But the sea between me and those lights is black as oil and roiling angrily like it wants nothing more than to swallow me alive. I’m not much of a swimmer, I barely know how from the time Harper taught me during that summer stay at a cabin by the sea which seems like a million years ago yet like it was yesterday too. I’ll swim the whole of the Pacific Ocean, or whatever this body of water is, to get to Harper.
And I wade into the icy water up to my thighs and very nearly attempt it. One last glance at the stage, the place I need to get to, tells me, I’m already there.
Already on the island with just another stretch pine trees separating me from Harper, not the ocean. This sorry, debris-filled shore is where we’re supposed to spend this night. And we’ll probably have to, given that I broke out of prison about twelve hours ago.
But that’s a problem to solve later.
Right now, I need to just follow the sound of her voice for just a little longer. And then I’ll be home.
* * *
Harper
The wind blowing off the sea is turning colder by the minute, carrying the iciness of winter even though it’s supposed to be summer. It rose soon after I got on stage, a gust blasting against me while I was singing one of my saddest songs. After that, the songs were all sad. A bummer for the audience, which until then was happily swaying to my happier songs, some even singing along. They started dispersing, but I didn’t care.
On a dark night like tonight, with the wind of winter blowing in the summer, and knowing that for the first time in my career there’s no friendly face in the darkness around the stage, I couldn’t sing and play anything else. It would’ve come out false. And I can’t stand false.
I wrapped up my set quickly my mind already on taking the boat off this island and getting back to my warm motel room so I can get to sleep somewhere the wind isn’t blowing so hard and so cold.
I shouldn’t have come here. I should’ve skipped this stop on the tour Jax and I planned.
Memories that kept flooding my mind while I sang were even colder than the wind—memories of all the plans Jax and I made which might as well be buried under all that ice and snow up there in the north where this wind is coming from.
The boat wasn’t due for another hour after I finished the set, because I had just missed it. That made Manny, the singer of Pixie Rage, who had come to see me play very happy. I drank too many whiskeys, all of them paid for by him, and the gleam in his eyes told me he was looking forward to the moment when the alcohol would make me unaware of my surroundings and what was happening. The joke’s on him though. I can carry a lot more than most people expect and I was pacing myself, even if it didn’t seem that way. I also have this thing where even if I drink enough to lose my motor functions, my mind stays clear.
We spoke about music, our inspiration for the songs we write, and the creative process. So on the surface, it was a good conversation, the kind I love to have with other artists, and it could’ve been a fun one too. But I could sense his ulterior motives, not just in the fact that his long, bony leg stayed pressed against my thigh no matter how many times I moved. It was also the serpent-like hunger in his eyes had continued to grow with each sip of whiskey I took, and the cold, pent-up aggression wafting off him. By the third whiskey he ordered for me, I knew I didn’t like Manny very much.
But I do need to get out of my head and start living my life. I know that. But I’ve never been good at doing that. It’s why I come across as quiet and withdrawn to most people, even the ones that have known me all my life. The unusual girl. Pretty, but strange. That’s what I am.
Never with Jax though. I could always just be me with him, without even thinking about it. He could always draw me out. Could always give me the courage to let myself go after things I’d normally just think about or imagine. Like this tour.
I was perfectly content with just putting my music up on YouTube and maybe playing at open mike nights and small concerts around my hometown. Who wants to listen to slow, barebones rock music with all these upbeat, funky and poppy music everywhere?
That was my reasoning. Even after my popularity online started growing.
That way I could stay close to my family and not have to risk anything. Jax showed me I was just stalling because I was scared. And he should be here with me, damn it.
Damn it.
“Tonight’s not your night, is it?” Manny asked at one point, pleasantly enough, but with a certain wolfish something in his eyes. “The set you played was so sad. Are you missing home?”
What a loaded question. Yes, I miss home. But no, I do not miss the sadness that’s hanging over everyone there. And no, I do not miss the place where every spot and damn near every blade of grass reminds me of the man who abandoned me.
Whiny much?
So instead of telling him any of that, I smiled and shrugged. “This is my first time alone in the big bad world.”
That made his eyes practically glow with a predatory hunger that I wanted no part of, despite having caused it by being flirty.
Luckily our conversation kept getting interrupted by his fans, and a few of mine too, coming over to ask for selfies, which he granted, but with a rapidly declining graciousness.
As soon as I saw the lights of the boat nearing the pier, I stood up and told him I need some sleep and that I’ll see him tomorrow. But he followed me, claiming he feels responsible for me now that I drank so much. He sounded sincere enough, but I strongly doubted that was his real reason.
