Christina Lee - Whisper to Me

“Amazing how life throws you curve balls.” His eyes flicked to mine and then away. God, he was handsome, with his dark jeans and snug white shirt that illuminated his eyes.

“I bet you ten bucks my parents try to convince me to stay home and commute to classes somewhere else this fall,” I said, my voice scratchy and unsure. Would Kai want that, too?

“I think I’d lose that bet in a heartbeat,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re just going to have to convince them that you need to get back to your routine as soon as possible.”

I nodded. My parents were sure to worry and resume their vigilant check-ins.

“So now that you’re back in the land of the living, do you have any requests?” he asked, a devastating grin lifting his cheeks and overwhelming all of my senses.

Shit, how in the hell was I supposed to get over him? Returning to college would definitely be the first step. I needed distance from him as soon as possible.

“A hot shower and a toothbrush, for starters,” I said. “God, how out of it was I? I had all these wild fever dreams.”

“Yeah, like what?” He brought his ankle to his knee as if settling in for a good story.

“I don’t know. Just crazy stuff. You were in one of them.” As soon as the words were out, I wanted to take them back. But still, I needed to know. To look in his eyes when I said it out loud. “Like, we were alone and you were . . . whispering to me.”

At first he looked confused and then stricken and finally his expression settled into something unreadable. “You were definitely in and out of consciousness and mumbling stuff. Your parents were here around the clock, so maybe you were . . . hearing them.”

“Probably,” I said, trying to keep the harsh disappointment out of my voice.

His eyes stayed on mine, his lips pursed as if words were hanging there, ready to be said. But then the moment was lost as my parents swept back inside the room.

Kai stood up. “I’m headed up to the fifth floor to visit Micah.”

I’d forgotten about Kai’s promise to Sam. “Wish him well for me.”

I fiddled with the amp onstage. I was sitting in on Cameron’s jazz quartet tonight, and the casino was already full with family and friends and regulars. As we each tuned our instruments, I felt my mind wander back to Rachel.

It’s been three weeks since she had been discharged from the hospital, and I’d been terrified I’d lost her that day. When she’d told me about her dream, she might have been recalling her recovery time three years ago. I had whispered lots of things to her back then. We’d been alone quite a bit and my feelings for her had escalated during that time.

I’d wondered just how much she remembered. And I’d almost asked, but things had become awkward enough between us. So I decided that our friendship was more important. In some unspoken agreement we’d been working on it together—hanging out, watching movies, joking, and laughing.

The sexual tension was still a haunting presence, but we’d both done a good job of ignoring it. Besides, I couldn’t help treating her more like a delicate flower since her hospital scare, and she let me know, in her own way, that she didn’t appreciate it.

Her mom’s and dad’s worries were enough, and she didn’t need my reservations on top of that, she’d said. Wanting to take care of her, keep her safe, was becoming more of a struggle than I had ever imagined it would.

She was busy helping her mom with the Pure grand opening and would be leaving for school a couple of weeks after that. I knew she needed to be her own person again. And I was sure to be a complete wreck when she left. It was probably best that she wasn’t in my bed and in my arms any longer. For now, I just wanted to spend as much time with her as she would allow.

Plus, in some undeclared way, she was trying to redeem herself in Dakota’s eyes. I knew my sister had been shocked to hear about Rachel’s transformation at college—mostly hurt that Rachel had tapered contact with her under the pretense of being too busy. But I told her to get the hell over it and offer support to her best friend.

As a result, Dakota had been giving me the silent treatment for days on end, and the absence of her nagging voice had been pure bliss. In fact, it’d given me the time to practice for this event and to set up a strategy to bring good music into the casino. For the first time in a while, I felt as if I had direction in my life.

Tomorrow night, a pan-tribal band would be performing. With Dad’s permission, I booked some different acts this weekend and asked my parents to check out the line-up. They included tambourines and water drums in their set and even sang traditional Peyote songs. I figured Dad would get a kick out of that, as well as the employees and patrons here of Native American descent.

The past couple of weeks, security in the casino had been beefed up due to public drunkenness and an all-out brawl near the craps tables. Of course, that kind of shit came with the territory. This was a place for gambling and drinking, after all.

I wanted to show my father that he could attract different clientele on the weekends. An older or more mature crowd. Maybe couples who wanted a fun, luxurious night out.

The jazz quartet played instrumental numbers, and I’d sat in on a few practice sessions the past month to learn the tunes. We clicked as far as the music was concerned. But musicians could be temperamental no matter what—working in a recording studio had opened my eyes to that.

These guys were different. They weren’t trying to make it huge; they just wanted to tour and play music, and I appreciated that. There hadn’t been any jealousy between them, either. The keyboard player said I was one hell of a bass guitarist. I’d heard that compliment before, and it always made me feel good. But where would that get me, really? No doubt I could play in a few bands like I always had, but that didn’t pay the bills.

“Hey, Kai, before I forget . . .” Cameron came up close behind me as I plugged the power cord into the amp. “We have an appointment at Bixby Studios to record something for an upcoming tour.”

“Yeah?” I said, vaguely familiar with the business over in Carlton County. “That’s cool.”

“I know that mixing is your thing,” he said. My thing? Was anything really my thing? Some little bell went off in my brain. “Would you mind showing up—maybe hang out in the control room and tell us if we’re any good?”

“Dude, they already have their own sound engineers.” I checked the strings on my bass. “What the heck would you need me for?”

“I chewed the fat with Johan recently.” He sat down at his drum set to wait for the sound check signal. “He told me you were really good—a natural.”

“Johan?” My brain was having trouble catching up. “In Amsterdam?”

“Yeah, we’re heading back there in the fall,” he said, twirling a drumstick. “He feels bad, you know.”

I stopped fiddling with the equalizer on the amp. “About?”

He shrugged. “About losing you.”

“About losing me,” I said. What the hell? “Not about accusing me of something I hadn’t done?”

“Well, that, too,” he said, testing his kick petal. “But I don’t think he’s got the balls to admit it.”

“True. He didn’t seem to have any balls at all,” I said, gritting my teeth. “At least not when it came to his girlfriend.”

“He told me you were a brilliant sound guy,” he said. “That you got bands to push themselves, to make their demo shine.”

“That’s a cool compliment.” One that surprised me. Johan was always on my ass about one thing or another.

“Anyway, will you do it?” he asked, before giving the sound guy the thumbs up to begin the check. “Sit in on at least one number?”

I smirked, still thinking about Johan. Bloody bastard. “Sure.”

When I next looked up, Dakota, Shane, and Rachel were seated at a long table in the bar area. My parents headed from the direction of the office and greeted my sister and my friends. Mom hugged Rachel and sat down beside her.

I glanced away to play a few notes for the sound guy, but I felt Rachel’s gaze, so I looked up. It was apparent she and my mom were talking about me, gesturing, smirking, and laughing. I just grinned and shook my head.

A few minutes later, Cameron announced the first number, and I got lost in the music. That’s how it’d always been for me, no matter what kind of band I’d played in. It was like a release of endorphins and always so damn liberating.

The next time I looked out at the audience, the landscape had changed. The bar was packed and there were certainly more couples interspersed with the usual groups of rowdy guys and girls. My father seemed to be making the rounds, speaking to different tables. For all I knew, he was surveying them, asking if they were enjoying themselves.

When I searched for Rachel, my eyes immediately zeroed in on some dude in the seat next to her, running his mouth and motioning with his hands. I tried to keep my reaction neutral. I should have been surprised she hadn’t been hit on sooner. But maybe I’d been giving off a don’t-touch-her-she’s-mine vibe.

Dakota was watching me, so I motioned to Rachel and her admirer, and she wiggled her eyebrows. Must have been the co-worker she was talking about setting Rachel up with. I nodded my approval, even though it took everything in my power not to throw down my instrument and knock the dude on his ass.

Cameron leaned over to ask if I wanted to try out the tune I’d played for them in practice the other day. I’d written it during the sleepless nights in my room, instead of seeking out Rachel or smoking weed. I was the most sober I’d been probably in years and had written one of my favorite pieces in the process. Go figure. And though she’d never know it, I’d secretly named the song after Rachel.