Michael glanced at the passing scenery on the return from Grandpa's lodge. The members had expressed a want for a number of Grandpa's possessions, though only God knew why. Sammy sat in the driver's seat, focused on the road.
While the flanking silence wasn't easy, it didn't care the weight it once had. The previous morning's discussion had lightened the air between Michael and his daughter, but still he wasn't completely relieved. Seth's introduction had inexplicably thrown him. The boy couldn't be blamed for his genetic traits, but his face was distinctly similar to… It simply dredged up past troubles, ones he didn't dare share with his daughter.
"Sammy, be careful." Michael stated plainly, feeling more compelled than consciously deciding to do so.
"Dad, I drive just fine." Sammy replied, nearly smiling.
"That's not what I meant," he answered, refusing to elaborate, but Sammy's signature sigh of frustration signaled she'd caught his meaning.
"Dad, you have to stop. I'm fine. I'm gonna be fine," she retorted more reassuring than annoyed, as she glanced toward her father.
"I can't help but worry, baby doll." Michael glanced at his daughter, catching a slight smile at the mention of his long-established term of endearment for her.
"I can't promise that I'll never do anything stupid again, but I'm not gonna go back to that," her voice soft and loving. She glanced toward her father, smiling.
Michael's eyes shifted once more to the passing scenery as he celebrated within his own head. Sensing the relief between them, Michael tempted fate, "Well, at least you're a better driver than when you took out the Miller's fence."
Sam's mouth dropped open in shock. "Yeah, only because you were yelling at me!" She exclaimed with a large grin while giving her father a slap in the arm.
"I was telling you to stop." Michael baited, dodging a second attack.
"At the top of your lungs while trying to climb through the sunroof," Samantha mocked defensively.
"I was trying to escape a fiery death," Michael teased, suppressing his laughter as his daughter stuttered for an appropriate rebuttal.
Finding none, she resigned to her customary playful pout, "I hate you."
He pulled her close by the scruff of the neck and kissed the top of her head, "I hate you, too."
My nights passed far too quickly, while my days stretched beyond limits. Though each one was agonizingly long, some days weren't without their merits. The morning after my dinner with Seth, Dad and I managed a surprisingly honest and lighthearted conversation driving home from Papa Glen's lodge. Though, I don't know how cheerful it would've been, had Dad known earlier that same morning Seth had called me. He seemed puzzlingly repelled when meeting Seth the previous night.
Seth called me every morning, opting for my cellular to avoid waking the household. The daybreak conversations were short but always ended with plans to see one another; which Seth and I did virtually every night. Of course, each time Seth brought me home at least fifteen minutes early in his tireless attempt to score brownie points. Still, Dad appeared put-off by the pace of our companionship.
In an effort to reassure my father, I spent a few tortuously long nights at home with the family. We had fun, but my mind kept wandering to Seth and what we would've been doing. Regardless of the generous quality family time, the inquisition began each night minutes before my friend's arrival and continued the following mornings. I told Dad the truth, every time; where we'd been, what we'd done. Nothing spectacular, movies or concerts at the boardwalk, but still I was sure Dad suspected otherwise. A few times we'd taken rides on his bike. After that discovery the interrogations only intensified, which struck me as odd, considering my father restored bikes for a living. Hell, he'd taught me how to ride one. Yet, the fervor didn't subside when I brought this fact to light, instead my father walked away frustrated, cursing bikes and all they stood for.
Even Seth attempted to put my father at ease. When Grandma invited him to dinner, Seth accepted immediately. My father obviously despised the idea, but agreed if only to placate the women of the house. The night was mostly pleasant. Mostly.
He seems nice enough, Michael thought to himself as he casually gazed across the dinner table at his guest. Well, Sammy's guest. He just couldn't get past this suspicion; it kept scratching just below the surface of this young man's casual demeanor. Star had been dismissive the other night, while they discussed Sammy's fast new friendship.
"You're just having trouble letting go," she'd answered, sitting on the bed moisturizing her legs, "You didn't want to let your baby doll go last time, either; and when you did, terrible things happened. It's understandable, but we've got to trust her, Michael."
Michael stood next to the window, looking out, hoping Sammy would come bounding up the driveway. He knew she wouldn't, she hadn't been gone that long, but still he hoped.
"It's more than that, Star," he started, looking at his wife, "I mean…You can't tell me that kid didn't look like…"
"I know he did, but Michael...David's dead."
"We never found his body," he rebutted casting eyes back to the window
"We never found any of the others either, save for the bits and pieces." Star stepped toward her husband, sighing. She embraced him tightly, before turning her face to his, "She's fine. We've come here for years and nothing's happened. Hell, the worst she's experienced didn't happen anywhere near here."
Michael responded to Star's embrace and conceded, "Yeah, you're right."
Yet, here they sat eating dinner together, and the comfort his wife had imparted just nights ago quickly melted away to nagging doubt. It picked at him, as this overconfident youth delighted his family with humorous tales of foolish pranks and youthful mischief. Most consisted of Seth repaying humiliation to what he referred to as his "jack-ass friends."
Michael watched warily, catching the glances between Seth and his daughter, expecting some previously unknown truth to crash upon the table. Of course, the anticipation was for naught. Seth conducted himself as a perfect gentleman, even insisting on clearing the dishes when all had finished eating. Sammy, unsurprisingly, leapt up to help him as they both shyly smiled. Michael took this opportunity to busy himself, helping his mother with serving the angel food cake she'd prepared for the occasion.
"Stop being rude." his mother whispered coldly
"I'm not." Michael defended
"You've barely spoken two sentences to the boy," his mother admonished him as she turned back to the room; treat in hand, "Dessert!"
"Really, I can't. I'm full." Seth replied rubbing is flat stomach.
"Then, I'll just give you a small piece," Lucy had retorted, cutting something closer to medium than small.
Seth chuckled, "Well, thank you."
Michael, once again, took his seat unsure what he should say to 'the boy.' Seth's eyes met his for the countless time that night, except now there was an arrogance behind them. Michael examined his rival's gaze, unblinkingly, hoping to ensure he hadn't imagined it. No, he hadn't. Fixed, deep within the young man's eyes sat an underhanded superiority and it wanted to be seen. Something unknown and devious flickered, hovering over the horizon of the boy's stare. The moments stretched into eras, as he tried to discern what Seth intended.
Sam's voice called, almost muffled "Dad? Dad?"
Michael ignored her, instead opting to address Seth directly, "Seth, when did you move here?" The question dripped with insistence, but held a more casual tone than even Michael had expected.
Once Samantha's attention focused on him, Seth's covert malevolence dropped from sight. Casually, he answered, "Last summer."
"Never lived here before that?" Michael's tone became slightly serrated, sharpened.
Sammy cut in, sensing the tension, "Dad."
Seth remained composed, "No, we moved around a lot, but never here."
"Really, then why now?" Michael asked, plainly distrusting. From his peripheral, Samantha rolled her eyes and collapsed into the back of her chair.
"Dad wanted to…re-establish his roots, I guess," Seth answered with a tone even more effortless than before.
A silence lulled for a moment, the women's eyes darting between the fixed stares of the men at the table. Abruptly, Star's lyrical voice floated across the air, "Do you like it here?"
"I'm getting used to it," he smiled, casting a look to Sammy.
This unwanted guest's blasé vexed Michael. Unintentionally, his jaw tightened; forcing the words between his teeth, "And what does your dad do?"
"Dad!" Sam broke in more ardently.
The intruder's eyes lit up, like a kid at Christmas, as though he'd been waiting for this, "Same as you actually. Well, he started out just like you did, restoring old bikes in a garage."
Michael's jaw clenched tighter. Once again, a brief hush enveloped the table until Seth continued, "After a couple years his business exploded and now he has shops all over."
"That sounds interesting." Lucy replied sweetly, obviously attempting to break the tension.
"Yeah, it's cool." Seth met her eyes briefly before returning Michael's glare, "He's worked really hard, you know, building up a major business from some dingy underground garage. Not a lot of people can do that."
Michael heard the underlying dig. He was meant as one of those 'people' unable to do so. Michael never had qualms about his business. He liked his small operation and he'd be damned to have some punk subtly undermine his life. Incensed, Michael stood suddenly, the chair issuing a raucous groan as he did so.
"Some would rather remain honest." Michael stated before storming from the room.
I watched as my dad stomped from the dining room like some twelve year-old, completely confused to what had offended him so thoroughly. I looked to Seth, who seemed as perplexed as I did.
"Did I say something wrong?" Seth posed to the table
"No, no," Grandma responded unsurely, looking after her son
"I'm just gonna check on him." Mom's face held baffled concern, "It was nice to see you again, Seth."
"You too, ma'am."
"Please, call me Star." Mom hated when anyone called her 'ma'am'.
Seth gently nodded, "Good to see you again, Star." Mom shook his hand then dashed from the room in hot pursuit of Dad.
I stood, grabbing plates when Grandma took them from my hands, "I've got this. You two go say good-night while you can." She gave me a mischievous grin and ushered us out with a nod.
I smiled, conveying Seth to follow with a gesture of my hand. Closely, he trailed me to the front porch, gently closing the door behind us. The night air chilled me instantly; unconsciously I hugged myself for warmth. Seth moved to my left as we descended the steps.
"I'm sorry about my dad. I don't know why he did that." I offered, the gravel shifting under foot.
"No worries," Seth expressed, placing his jacket around my shoulders. Gently, his hands caressed them as I became painfully aware how close his mouth was to mine, "Maybe my dad just hits a little close to home."
I accepted the coat, gratefully. Emerging from my daze I asked, "What do you mean?"
"I don't know, forget it. I just hope you don't catch any grief." he smiled, entering his Shelby Mustang
"I wouldn't worry. Mom will talk him down. She always does."
A moment later, music blared from the speakers as he sped down the driveway. I lingered for a moment, before turning on my heel back to the house. What the hell was that about? I wondered in regards to my father's sudden outburst. Inside, I removed Seth's red-leather motorcycle jacket. I stared at it, wishing he were still here until footfalls caught my ear.
Mom settled on the bottom stair, looking exasperated, "Well, your father hates Seth."
I sighed and moved to sit next to her, "He said that?"
Mom nodded, "Yes, and he doesn't want you to see him again."
I scoffed, "Why? And what the hell was the staring contest about?"
"He won't say. He just says Seth's not to be trusted and that you should stay as far away from him as possible."
"That's ridiculous!"
"No, it's not." Dad's voice boomed from behind
I stood, defiantly, "Yes, it is. What is your problem with Seth?"
"He's not a good guy, Sammy," Dad quickly descended the stairs, "He's hiding something."
"Michael," Mom stood, placing a hand to Dad's chest, "why do you think that? He's been perfectly nice."
He looked at my mother, his voice softer than when he'd addressed me, "He's not who he says he is, Star."
"Dad, that's fucking absurd!" I shouted
My father's eyes shot daggers through me, "Watch your mouth; and no it's not."
"Yes, it is. What? Do you think he's a spy?" I mocked him callously, knowing the reaction it would bring.
"Goddamn it, Sammy, would you listen for once. You thoughtlessly jump into everything," Dad returned coldly, his face flushing crimson, "I'd think after the trouble you've caused you'd stop wrecking yours and everyone else's life!"
"Michael!" Mom exclaimed.
"Yeah, I get it, Dad! I'm a mess! Change the fucking record!"
"Sammy!" Mom urged.
"No, Mom! He's merciless. I live with regret, everyday, of everything I've done. I've apologized to the ends of the earth but nothing, nothing, is ever good enough!" I fought to keep the tears stinging my eyes from spilling over.
"Quit fucking up and it will be," he rejoined barely above a whisper, but the words punched the breath from my chest. There was no reprieve in his statement. Until then, I hadn't realized there'd always been hope when he spoke to me, hope of fixing what had shattered. I hadn't heard it before, not until it was gone.
I twisted around, grabbing Seth's jacket as I reached for the door. Millimeters from it, my father's hand appeared from nowhere, firmly clasping my wrist.
"You're not leaving. You're not going to see him," his voice threatened.
"Watch me." I growled, rotating away from his grip. Once free, I shoved harshly knocking him back further than I thought possible. Swiftly, I threw open the door and put on Seth's jacket. Though it had only been a few minutes, I noticed the night air had cooled even further as I dashed down the stairs, where I stopped dead in my tracks. Seth stepped out of his Mustang, looking quizzically at the scene playing out in front of him.
"Get me out of here." I demanded
Without provocation, he slipped back into his car as I heard my father thunder onto the porch. Like a shot, I maneuvered into the passenger seat, grateful the motor was running. Even over the roaring engine, Dad's voice carried, commanding me back inside. In a flash, Seth and I had made our getaway, my dad's voice fading quickly behind the deafening V-8.
Panic struck Michael cold in the chest. He twisted toward the house. There on the porch stood Star and Lucy clutched arm-in-arm, worry etched deeply into their faces.
"Michael! Michael!" Star called out, attempting to restrain her husband.
"Michael, what are you doing?" his mother exclaimed, rushing after her son and daughter-in-law.
"I'm calling the cops," Michael shouted, raging past them both.
"And tell them what, Michael? She's 21 and left on her own!" Star shouted, anger lacing the edges.
"She'll be back, honey." Lucy said, trying to assure her son.
"I won't…"
"Won't what?! Let her lead her own life?!" Star demanded, pursuing her husband while he searched for the car keys.
Lucy placed a hand on Star's shoulder, imploring her to quiet down. She spoke to Michael, "She'll be back, all right? Just let her cool-down."
"Mom, he's trouble."
"There's nothing you can do right now. She's grown and angry. She'll be back when she's ready. If you do anything, you'll just make it worse."
"It's your own damn fault that she took off," Star interjected, arms firmly crossed.
Michael looked incredulously at both his mother and wife, "He isn't some neighborhood boy. He's scheming something."
"Whether that's true or not, you need to just give me the damn keys," Lucy responded, forcefully rattling the metal from her son's hands.
Star glared at her husband. Her mouth began to form but stopped short of words, seeing they were useless. Instead her hands went up in frustration as she climbed the stairs.
Seth's Shelby easily handled the familiar curves to his house. I sat silently, cradling my wrist, unsure whether my father's grip or my defense had caused the emerging bruise. The tears I'd fought so hard against now fell easily, breaking apart against my wounded wrist. Seth's fingers materialized caressing a tear away.
"You okay?" he softly asked
I scoffed. "I'm fine," I lied, suppressing a sniffle, "Hey, why'd you come back?"
"I forgot my cell phone in the jacket," he answered slyly grinning.
I couldn't help but smile, looking directly at his cell phone perched in its holder on the dashboard. I knew then, he hadn't left at all.
"Well, that was gonna be my excuse," he confirmed, turning suddenly onto an unfamiliar road.
"Where are we going?" I asked, intrigued.
"Someplace to cheer you up and let you forget your folks, if only for a little bit."
A few minutes and steep downward slopes later, we parked in front of a lavish nearly transparent house, more glass supporting its walls than timber or stone. Through the translucent walls, within its interior, I saw at least a hundred people milling around. Instantly, dread filled my chest as the familiarity of the scene became reality.
Seth killed the engine causing the air to fill with standard soiree sounds. The slamming bass of heavy industrial music echoing across the yard, punctuated by raucous laughter and flirtatious screams lent even-more malfeasance to the atmosphere. I mimicked Seth, mechanically, by exiting the car, but held fast to the door. No good is gonna come from tonight, I thought timidly. I knew this environment and what came with it. My gut tightened as Seth's hand found mine, gently tugging me forward. I tugged back.
"I don't know about this, Seth." I offered, forcing my gaze away from the object of my fear.
He was much closer than I'd remembered pulling him, "It'll be okay. What better way to drown your demons than to be flooded with them?"
"I don't know that it works that way," I stared into his crystalline blue eyes, hoping he'd take pity and guide me elsewhere.
His hand, cool from the misty air, lifted my chin. He whispered, pulling my mouth to his, "I promise, I'll keep you afloat." The firmly gentle first kiss caught me by surprise. Of course, that's why he'd done it; I'd stopped expecting it. I couldn't help but trust him then, be reassured by his words.
Both of us smiling, he led me up the stone walkway, twirling me around in pace with the mainstream pop beat that now penetrated the air. The huge translucent door had muffled the music more than I'd expected, which doubled to near deafening levels as soon as the glass behemoth opened. Two steps inside, a muscled jock-type vaulted toward us, calling out "Seth!"
They slid easily into a seconds-long complicated greeting before the welcomer even noticed my presence, standing just behind Seth. His eyes widened, examining me like I were a thorough-bred mare meant for breeding, before refocusing on his friend, "This her?"
Still clutching my hand, Seth smoothly maneuvered behind me, "This is Sam."
"Damn, man! She's a hottie!" the greeter exclaimed, laying a playful punch to Seth's chest. Quickly, he fixed upon me again, put his arm around my shoulders and gently shoved Seth aside, "I'm Jace. As host, I would like to welcome you to the party and volunteer myself for any sexual favors you desire to perform tonight."
I laughed out loud at the boisterous "invitation" while Seth, not so gently, shoved his friend aside. Pulling me close, Seth urged Jace to "Get the hell out of here."
Jace, unabashed, moved quickly to kiss my cheek, narrowly avoiding a second hit while he affirmed that the offer still stood. Seth scoffed, calling him a jack-ass while I continued to giggle. He led me deeper into the crowd, greeting more of his friends, many who knew me but none I knew back. We glided past, as drunken girls made out for the amusement of the surrounding inebriated, who cheered in victory. Further in, I observed we were actually on a balcony, revealing another entire level where the pool resided, stuffed nearly to capacity. However that didn't stop dozens from diving, jumping, or throwing someone into the mass of people.
Suddenly, Seth moved me back inside down a dark hallway. The apparent goings-on from the isolated interior rooms, though muffled, filtered shamelessly into the corridor. Moans, giggles and even the soft rustle of disturbed sheets drifted into the confined hallway. While my mind wandered to what Seth intended, I'd learned by now to just coast until all was revealed in due time. I couldn't exactly say I'd oppose such a proposition.
The last door to the left stood ajar, leaking ambient light upon the floor. He ushered me through the threshold first, gently closing the door behind us. The contents of the room weren't surprising, Asian-inspired bedroom, but what lay on the bed shocked me into a standstill. Resting, unmistakably, in the center of the red-satin covered platform mattress was a guitar case.
I looked to Seth, "What did you do?"
"Open it," he smiled
I sat gently next to the hard black-leather case, afraid it may crumble to dust if jostled too harshly. The silver locks easily fell open as I lifted the lid. Of course, the Gibson Hummingbird I'd been admiring that night at the boardwalk lay beautifully inside. The dark finish gleamed under the low light while my fingers traced the edges.
"Seth, I can't accept this." I said, more obligatory than truthfully.
"Yes, you can. It's a gift, and I hope you'll play it next Tuesday at Common Grounds."
"The coffee-house?"
"Yes," he smiled, "It's just an open-mic night, but Toni, the manager's a friend of mine. She made room for you on the set list, if you want it."
I couldn't speak. The beautiful case, the gorgeous guitar, and now a gig too. Who the hell was this guy? Mr. Right, from Perfect Guy Town, USA on Planet Ideal. This was too good to be true.
"You haven't even heard me play. Hell, I haven't played in over a year! What if I suck?"
"Then I'll have to mercilessly mock you, even so far as to erect a billboard shaming you before all of Santa Clara." His infectious smiled only enhanced the crystal blue of his eyes.
"Nice to know you have a contingency plan." I added.
The music shifted, too seamlessly, between the harder genres and mainstream pop. Still, the selection was good and we found ourselves dancing more than once. Seth became more of a prop to dance against than actual dancer during faster tempos, but his slower rhythms set heat down my spine. Caressing the sliver of exposed skin between my shirt and waistband, he nuzzled my neck with breathy kisses. Everything faded away while embraced in Seth's arms. I no longer heard anything, except my racing heart as his breath hit my ear. I willingly lost myself in his rhythm, not an inch of space between us. I simply followed the curve and sway of his body, relaxing into him and bending when he moved me. Somehow, I came back to reality when the song faded into a rapid pace. Seth smiled, kissing me as he did so.
Jace, with a few unidentified others, were calling a few feet away, insisting we join them. I followed freely, unsure whether I could stand alone without Seth's hand. I don't recall bumping into anyone, but that didn't stop a blonde beach bitch from starkly shoving me.
"What the hell is your problem?" she screamed, scantily clad in a red bikini.
There'd been no time to respond before Seth protectively moved in front of me, blocking the blonde's access. Clear hostility rumbled his throat, "Back off, Jana."
"She doesn't belong here, Seth," the blonde fired back
"More than you do," he responded simply
The insult's injury flared behind her eyes. He wounded something in her. Jana moved to snap back, but abruptly halted. Instead, her glare transferred to me, obviously wishing some unspeakable hell to descend upon us. Defeated, she stormed off, shoving her way through the crowd. Seth gazed back, giving a "no worries" eye, before we resumed our path.
"Crazy bitch," Jace commented when we joined the circle, "Still wouldn't mind a crack at her though."
I grinned, but Seth offered no response. Whether avoiding an explanation or just wishing to continue the festivities, Seth gave me an introduction. Clockwise around the group they each replied. Rob, dark-haired and slender, stood to Jace's left, entangled in a raven-hair beauty named Donna. Next to the amorous couple Landon's medium build leaned casually upon a petite blonde appropriately called Bunny. Strikingly imposing, Gage stood alone, but seemed unbothered by the prospect. I found out later Gage enjoyed, in Jace's words, "chasing tail more than catching it."
"Shall we?" Rob asked with his face buried in Donna's neck.
"Let's go!" Landon exclaimed
"Where are we going?" I asked
Jace came very close to my face, "Hell."
I rolled my eyes glancing at Seth, who grinned, "You'll see."
Once again I looked to Jace, "What about your houseguests?"
Closer still, he smiled deviously, "My party, but not my house."
With a victorious yell, Jace raced toward the door with the rest of us filing behind. No one took notice, most too enthralled in lascivious behavior to pay attention. Seth and I, alone, entered the car. The rest mounted various models of bikes though all were darkly painted, whooping and hollering as they revved the engines and sped from sight. We caught them easily once we reached the road. The motorized reunion quickly melted into road games; racing to the front only to be passed moments later. The blaring of the Shelby's speakers lent a fitting soundtrack, but still our cohorts' enlivened exclamations could be heard. Taunting and jeers sliced through the air, goading each driver to surpass the others. Seth's four wheels proved no handicap when dealing with his two-wheeled competitors. He weaved without difficulty among them, usually forcing them back. Each of our thrill-seeking party reached through the Shelby's open windows goading its driver. Once, Jace's muscle bound frame squeezed through my window to his waist. Before Seth or I realized, Jace's lips had met mine in an impressively graceful kiss. Seth swerved to the passenger side, knocking fair-haired Jace out the window and dangerously close to a burn-out.
I couldn't help but laugh at Jace's antics, which I'm sure were more to illicit a reaction from Seth than anything else. Feeling more like spectator and to assure Seth of my loyalties, I decided to add danger of my own kind. Stretching across the seat I roughly pulled Seth into a kiss, deeper than any we'd experienced so far. Without disconnecting, I maneuvered to my knees when abruptly pulled me into his lap, all the while keep steady control of the Shelby. Triumphant yells and cat-calls sliced the air as our companions took notice of our exploits. Lost in our kiss, oblivious to any line-of-sight disruption I was causing, I held tight to him. It was only when we skidded to a stop, did I realize we'd arrived at Seth's home.
"So this is hell?" I teased
Seth pulled my mouth to his before answering, "You'll see."
The others quickly pulled in and dismounted with shouts of victory. Rob and Landon's female companions produced girlish giggles while being swept off their respective seats by their respective males. Jace and Gage followed the foursome, not inside but off to the left. Within minutes all six had disappeared down a steep incline that I'd never noticed before.