Page 8 of Another Postcard

The little typing bubble popped up on the screen, then disappeared, then popped up again, and did the same three more times. Finally, a message appeared.

Levi: So many dirty things running through my head right now…

Me: Like me in my underwear?

Levi: If I wasn’t thinking about exactly that, I am now, cruel woman.

Me: Jokes on you, lover boy. I sleep naked.

Levi: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME????

Me: Yes. Goodnight.

There went that typing bubble again. Popping up then disappearing, over and over until a message appeared.

Levi: Sweet dreams, baby.

I laughed, knowing he had clearly checked his impulse to reply with something wicked. Fate was a bitch for making him so damn appealing and totally off limits.

6

Levi

Ibarely madeit through our recording session the next day from being so fucking anxious to get Brooklynn alone. Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic to be singing “Sanity” with her, but I would have been lying if I said I wasn’t planning on capitalizing on all the one-on-one time. She looked fan-fucking-tastic and my eyes kept turning in her direction. Her hair was down, the thick, straight strands falling down her back or over her shoulder, flirting with her breasts. She was wearing a soft, pink sweater that had just a hint of fuzz. It reminded me of cotton candy, and I had the strongest urge to lick her and see if she tasted just as sweet. Her jeans were formfitting, showing off her incredible ass. They were tucked into knee-high, black boots with a heel that made my mind draw pictures of fucking her in nothing but those boots. It was a good thing I had my guitar in my lap.

We finished our session around one o’clock, but before I could attempt to talk Brooklynn into lunch, she took off with Sasha and Kristi. Matteo clapped me on the back, getting my attention, and I swiveled on my stool to face him.

“Starting ‘Sanity’ with Brooklynn today?” he asked.

“Fuck yeah. I can’t wait to hear her on this part.”

“If I didn’t know you’d written it before you met her,” Simon said as he sauntered over, “I’d think it was written for her.”

Matteo nodded in agreement before putting on his thick, leather coat. “I’ve got plans tonight, but I should be done around eleven. Let me know if you want to catch a late beer.”

Simon snorted in amusement, but he was looking at Matteo like he’d grown two heads. “I hope those plans are not a date, dude. Otherwise, it seems I’ve taught you nothing.”

Matteo gave Simon a one-fingered salute as he started toward the door. “She’s taking a red eye flight tonight, asshole.”

“Ah, so my teachings have not been wasted,” Simon jeered. “Nothing like a fast and hard, farewell fuck. Avoids all the messy, morning after bullshit.” Simon was still flapping his gums as he followed Matteo out the door. I laughed at their antics, then picked up my guitar and tuned out everything but the music. “Sanity” was an extremely emotional love song. It started out as hard rock, then dropped to a haunting melody, before moving into an upbeat, almost punk rock sound and eventually ending with our natural genre, alternative rock. It changed sound and tempo frequently throughout the song, the same way someone’s mind jumps around, making them feel like they are going crazy. The lyrics told the story of lovers who drive each other to the brink of insanity, but can’t seem to survive without one another. Their relationship was almost as toxic as it was healing, a balm to their broken souls. The music returned to singing about their need for one another in every refrain. That was the part where it became a duet of sorts with the female vocals was a powerhouse section. It was full of desire, unbridled need, practically fucking with our voices.

Most people who heard it assumed I was inspired by my own experiences, but the truth was, I wrote it based on an ideal. It was a kind of love that I wasn’t sure I believed in, but I wanted to and “Sanity” was my way of expressing my longing for that kind of emotional tie to someone. Even if it meant teetering on the edge of crazy, at least we’d hold hands on the fall.

The rhythmic thumping of the drums accompanied me inside my head as I played my guitar and sang through the piece. I made a couple of small tweaks then began singing the chorus again. The woman’s harmony twisted around my melody, her line crossing mine, the notes constantly moving higher and lower. I could hear her perfectly and the blend of our voices was unreal.

Suddenly, I realized that the voice I was hearing wasn’t in my head. I stopped playing and my eyes snapped open. Brooklynn had come into the room at some point and pulled a stool over to face me. She was half sitting on it so her rib cage stayed open and though she’d been looking at her sheet music, our eyes met the moment the sound ceased. “Amazing,” I whispered. I was referring to her beauty as much as her talent. I shook it off and lifted a chin at her music. “Didn’t Noah give that to you before you left for lunch?”

She lifted a single, black brow and smirked, her brown eyes twinkling with laughter. “Yes. I looked at it for a few minutes while you were singing before joining you.”

I gawked at her. I knew Brooklynn’s reputation, and I’d seen for myself over the last couple of weeks how gifted she was. But, “Sanity” was an unbelievably difficult song. The vocal range needed, the quickly changing melodies and tempos, the tight harmonies, etc., meant there weren’t many people who could sing this song and do it justice. It had taken Sheryl months to learn her part and sing all three refrains as well as the ending without making any major mistakes. Brooklynn had looked at it for a hot second and jumped right in, singing it like she’d known the song all of her life.

“Your genius would be alarming if it wasn’t so damn consistent,” I declared with a chuckle.

She laughed and spun on her stool, her legs flying out in front of her. When she was facing me again, she grinned. “Yeah, I’m kind of a big deal.” Then she winked and blew me a kiss, Marilyn Monroe style. Just like that, I was hard as a fucking rock, which was saying something since I’d already been sporting an erection from singing “Sanity” with her.

“You’re not helping your cause, baby,” I growled. “One of these days, you are going to give in and let me sweep you off your fucking feet.”

“That’s a pretty inflated ego you’ve got there, Barney Stinson,” she snarked, folding her arms, pushing her tits up. A chuckle bubbled to the surface at her reference to a character from a popular sitcom. I did my best not to let my eyes stray down, but it was a losing battle. I had no willpower when it came to Brooklynn. I’d make a shitty Jedi. “Go ahead, look your fill, because that’s as close as your gonna get to my breasts.” She practically cackled. Fitting, since she’d cast a fucking spell on me.

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