Page 12 of For Puck's Sake

The snapping continues as I ease into the chorus, my heart soars as I hear my lyrics sung back to me. It never gets old. I’m a maestro and the crowd my symphony. Multiple voices blend together to the accompaniment of my guitar. It almost gives off an acapella vibe as I go back to stomping my heel and snapping my fingers abruptly. I silence Bessie for the next part of the song. The crowd reacts as I thought they would. They all continue to sing right along with me.

It’s the freedom of happiness,

Living my dream, nothing less.

No more guilt, no more shame,

I’m flying high, dancing in the rain.

It’s the freedom of happiness,

Living life, oh so sweet,

I got the whole wide world beneath my feet.

The snaps turn into claps as I stand and start strumming my guitar again, picking up exactly where I left off. I engage the crowd, giving a few members of the audience my sole attention as I sing to them directly. I spot my old music teacher from elementary school, Ms. Garrison, sitting at one of the tables. She beams up at me with pride in her eyes, giving me the ‘I taught her that’ look as she bobs to the beat. Dean taps his thigh to the beat as he leans against the side wall closest to the bar. Red serves drinks to a packed bar, but I don’t miss her singing along with me. I rock to the music, adrenaline pumping through me as the song flows from my lips with ease. This is one of my upbeat numbers. I didn’t want to start the night on a somber note and with the jovial, celebratory response from the crowd, I hit the mark. Every choice I’ve made, good or regretful, has brought me here. In front of the people who rooted for me and even those who thought I ruined my chances of success when I walked away from a formal musical institution of prominence. For the first time in a long time, like the title of this song, I feel the freedom in my own happiness. I don’t let the burdens of my heavy heart weigh me down. I let it all go, right here on this stage.

Let the music take control,

Feel the joy within my soul.

Every day a new surprise,

Only love reflected in my eyes.

I’m riding the high of the lyrics as I finish the bridge of the song. I’m so lost in the words; I’ve closed my eyes. My head rocks back and forth as I give my best Stevie Wonder impression, I feel the sound as it pulses through me. I can hear the crowd,the snaps, the claps, the shouts of encouragement. It builds and builds to a crescendo, until I drop back down from the heavens of musical bliss and ease into the instrumental ending of the song.

Then I feel it. In a room full of people with their eyes trained on me. There is an undeniable weight of a penetrating gaze. I don’t need to open my eyes to know who it is. My soul found him the first time we met, and it continues to seek him even with all the distance between us. My brain demands that my heart see reason, because despite my deep-rooted emotions, nothing good can come from his presence. The yearning, the call to go to him is absolute though. I want to keep this moment to myself. Bask in the performance and keep myself ignorant to his proximity. But like the glutton I am, I open my eyes as I play out the end of the song. The crowd roars, cheering and screaming, as I go into the next song. Even my subconscious wants to dig the daggers deeper. My fingers have a mind of their own as I go into my cover version of The Beatle’s ‘Something’. I’m transported back in time, to another performance, where he stood in the exact same spot. Where he tipped his beer back, eyes never leaving mine as I sang for him.

Tonight is no different. No matter how many times I turn my attention elsewhere, my eyes find him. There is a shift in my performance after that. Song after song, I sing and play, giving the crowd everything while Ridley never leaves his spot in the back of the room. Why are you here? I want to scream into the mic. Why now? As if the news of his potential child wasn’t enough to shred me to pieces. He’s here and the way he’s looking at me rips me wide open. He watches me, as if for the first time, with surprise, if the widening of his eyes is any indication, then awe.

Did he not know I was here? Did he just happen to show up to Red’s by chance? No, I find it hard to believe. I take in hisappearance, he’s relaxed, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. The crowd is none the wiser about who’s among them. Right now, he blends in effortlessly. Maybe this is by chance. He doesn’t draw attention to himself, when usually the room would have parted like the Red Sea to get a glimpse of him. No, he taps his hand against his thigh, enjoying this moment like everyone else.

Ridley always told me he could never get enough of the sound of my voice and how captivating I am on stage. I never truly believed him until now. He watches me transfixed, obsessively, eyes barely blinking. It’s as if he thinks closing them for too long will make me vanish like a mirage. Or I’m delusional and imagining it all.I am real though, live and in color. I don’t know what he’s doing here, but I can’t drown, I won’t allow myself.

It’s so easy to love him. There was never a time when I fell out of love. But love, though potent in its own right, is never enough to build a steady foundation when it comes to a relationship. I remind myself why things didn’t work out between us. I open old wounds and let the hurt take hold. I relive our relationship, written in the words of most of my songs, my heart mends, shatters, and ultimately falls apart. I let Ridley see it all—my most vulnerable self—and I leave it at his feet. By the time I leave the stage, applause and cheers fade into the background, and I’m left raw and exposed.

I leave a very confused Dean to sort out the stage. But of course, he can’t let me exit with grace. Oh no, it’s too much to ask to go back to Tor’s and lick my wounds.

“I didn’t know you invited him,” Dean says as he grabs my forearm to stop me from walking past him. My head snaps in his direction, lips purse at his audacity. I look to where his hand is holding my arm and back up to his face. I’m not in the mood for his passive aggressive jealous boyfriend act.

“One: Are we going to have a problem?” I lift my brow in challenge. He has the nerve to look angry, but he lessens hishold, but not completely. “Two: I didn’t invite him, but even if I had”—I shrug, pulling myself away from him and stepping back—“it’s none of your business. Do your job Dean, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I grab Bessie, slip my guitar case strap over my shoulder and leave him speechless. Good, because I don’t have the strength to fight him tonight. I keep my head down as I rush past the distracted crowd and exit Red’s without a backward glance.

I mentally berate myself for not saying goodbye to Red, but I’ll see her tomorrow night. The show must go on and all that. I have plenty of performances to make up for my speedy exit. I jump into my jeep and pause. I hit my steering wheel so hard my palm stings from the impact. Checking my hand to make sure I didn’t damage anything I lean my head against the wheel instead. I ran again. I couldn’t face him, and I don’t know how I feel about it. No matter how hard I try, I can’t escape Ridley Masters. I should be able to open my mouth and speak to the man that meant so much to me. Right now, I’m a coward. I want to be upset he didn’t chase me, but I’m grateful he didn’t. Knowing Ridley, he just might. I start my jeep and leave Red’s. My only hope is his presence in Lark Bay tonight is a coincidence and tonight will be the last time I set my eyes on him.

A girl can dream, right? Even as I think it, I know its wishful. It seems the universe wants us to have it out once and for all. In a small town like Lark Bay, there will be no place to hide, and our clash is inevitable.

SEVEN

RIDLEY

“Don’t walk away from me, Luna.” I ran my hand over my wet hair in irritation. I fought the urge to pull and tug it but stopped when I looked down at my naked body. I grabbed a towel, tied it around my waist and went after Brea. Everything had been fine when I returned from my away game tonight. Brea seemed to be in better spirits than she had been in a while. When I found her on the balcony tonight she was singing to the stars with a smile on her face. I knew something was wrong when I carried her to bed. The way she made love to me with tears in her eyes, whispering she loved me, it felt like a goodbye. When she hadn’t joined me in the shower afterwards, well, hello, red flag.

Brea stopped, I saw her back rise and fall as she took deep breaths, then she turned with tears in her eyes and threw her arms up in exasperation. She looked completely shattered, as if she was barely holding herself together. She wore a white Vipers hoodie with my number on the back and a pair of yoga pants. Her locs were haphazardly piled on top of her head. Even for Brea’s relaxed dressing style, that was too unkemptfor her. But I guess she waited for me to jump in the shower and decided it didn’t matter what she looked like.

“I can’t Ridley. I’ve already lost too much. Can’t you see how broken I am? How broken I’ve been since—” Brea’s voice broke as she leaned against the hallway of our penthouse for support. Her shaky hands shielded her face from me as she began to sob uncontrollably. It was then that I noticed the bags waiting by the couch in our open-plan living room. When did she have time to pack? She really was leaving me. What the fuck was happening?

Rushing forward, I pressed my damp body against hers, giving her my support. I caged her in, wanting to protect her from the world, from herself. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I held her. “Please, Brea, don’t do this. Don’t walk away from us. I’m sorry, baby. I know things have been tough. I’ve been away a lot, I know Angel, we haven’t had a lot of time to talk about the ba?—”

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