Smolder (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Skyler

I needed to relax and get rid of some excess energy. I’d been working for five hours and had only gotten through six bars of the intro. The original music was in my head, and I couldn’t get it out to hear it any other way. I needed to do something to work off the tension.

Hearing feet on the stairs, I glanced up to see Sandy emerge from the basement as I stretched. He was drying his hair with a small towel and had a large towel draped across his hips and tied on the left. I almost swallowed my tongue with all that gleaming flesh on display.

“You, uh… The pool’s out there. Feel free to use it.” He pointed toward the back of the house before he went upstairs. A door slammed, and I exhaled.

Without waiting for Sandy to return, I hurried downstairs, sliding off my T-shirt as I went out to the pool deck. I slid off my jeans and dove into the pool in my boxer briefs, coming up for air after gliding halfway toward the other end. I held on to the side and stared at the large house casting a shadow over the warm water before lying back to float as I stared into the sky. I thought back to when I settled on a career in teaching.

Deciding what to do after college was important to me, and I’d vowed that whatever I chose would be so far removed from my father’s profession that people would never link us as family. Through my first two years of college, I was stymied when it came to the next steps, even though I was majoring in music composition. I had a song in my soul and knew I’d never be happy unless I was doing something with music, though I didn’t know what.

During high school, I’d given piano lessons after school and on Saturdays to make spending money, and I’d loved teaching, especially younger kids. The excitement on their faces when they learned their first song fed my soul, and the amount of money I made ended up being a secondary consideration.

The summer between my junior and senior years of college, I worked as a camp counselor at a theater camp in Murphysboro, near Carbondale. I had the time of my life, though I pissed off my mom by not returning to California. At the end of camp, my mind was made up. I stayed in school, got a second degree in music education, and never looked back.

When I got my first job—which happened to be with the West Peoria school district—I was excited and anxious. I’d gotten over most of my shyness in college, thanks to music. And while giving piano lessons and working at the theater camp, I’d learned I was good with kids.

The Friday before school officially started, we had a teacher meet-and-greet. I noticed a teacher sort of hanging back, much as I tended to do, so I grabbed a cup of coffee and a cruller, slowly making my way over. “I’m Skyler Ashe. New music and band teacher.”

“I’m the new eighth-grade science teacher, Brendan Wray.” We shook hands, and I suspected he was scared to death, much like me.

I’d done some student teaching during the last semester of my master’s requirements while I worked toward my teaching certification. Brendan told me he’d worked as a teacher in Chicago for two years at an inner-city school.

He was cute, with flaming red hair and pink cheeks, and he had a love for teaching I believed I mirrored.

Brendan also had a deep-seated fear of interacting with strangers—except students—due to being assaulted on his way home from school while living in Chicago. He’d been so traumatized by the attack that he had to take medication just to get through the day.

Despite all our insecurities and nerves, Brendan and I bonded, mostly over the stench of tuna salad in the teacher’s lounge. He had the most incredible laugh, and we’d become fast friends.

Brendan helped me with the all-school Christmas concert that year, which was a great success. We went out for pizza after the event, and when I drove him home—he didn’t drive—he gave me a kiss on the lips.

It was a sweet, though awkward, moment. There was no great spark of passion, but I welcomed the intimacy. I’d missed being affectionate with someone. I’d thought maybe when we returned from the holiday break, Branden and I might have been able to pursue something more than friendship. That had been my hope, anyway.

Brendan went home to Chicago for the holidays, and we chatted a couple of times during the break. On the first day of school after Christmas vacation, the teachers received a text message from the principal to meet in the teachers’ lounge fifteen minutes before the start of the school day that January morning.

“I’m sorry to announce that Brendan Wray passed away over the holiday break. His family has asked that we respect their privacy at this time, but I thought we could take up a collection for a memorial donation in his name to a charity of the family’s choosing. He will be missed.”

Rumors had swirled around the school regarding the many ways Brendan had died—from him committing suicide to a shootout with the cops—but I couldn’t see Brendan doing any of those things.

At Easter break, I received a nice letter from Brendan’s mother. She told me Brendan had been in a snowmobile accident in Colorado, where the Wray family gathered for Christmas. He hadn’t survived the accident, having hit a large tree, but he’d spoken highly of me when they’d all been together. She was sorry she hadn’t reached out to Brendan’s boyfriend sooner. That threw me for a loop.

I spent the following weekend locked in my shitty apartment, mourning the loss of my friend and wondering why Brendan had told his parents we were boyfriends. Was there more to the attack he’d suffered in Chicago that his family didn’t know? Did he want them not to worry about him being alone in West Peoria, so he told them he had a boyfriend? Had I done something to make him think we were boyfriends?

My biggest question: did he intentionally run his snowmobile into that tree because he believed he could never find anyone to love him? I knew that fear far too well.

Anytime I allowed myself to think of Brendan, those same questions plagued me. I hadn’t been looking for Mr. Right, but now that thirty was in the rearview mirror, I wondered if the easiest way to make it through life was alone. If I settled my mind that I was fine by myself, could I avoid the heartache I’d witnessed my mother suffer at Regal’s hands? I had a good life, didn’t I? Couldn’t I be just as happy on my own as I could as part of a couple?

When I climbed out of the pool, I found a large towel and a bottle of water on the patio table. I hadn’t noticed Sandy coming out, but the towel and water didn’t miraculously appear. At some point, I must have been so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice.

I sat on the side of the pool to dry a little before wrapping the towel around my waist and dropping into a chair. The view was incredible. There was a bit of land before the privacy fence, and I thought I saw some flowering bushes there. Maybe I’d walk down there to see what they were?

I finished the water and carried the empty bottle and my clothes while still wearing the towel. When I climbed the stairs, I didn’t expect to see Sandy standing at the counter.

“I made some burgers that I’m going to grill if you’re interested. Go ahead and shower. If I’m not in here, I’ll be downstairs on the patio if you’d like to join me.” Sandy wasn’t rude, but he wasn’t exactly inviting. His face held no care regarding whether I joined him or not.

“Thanks. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. I’ll help if you want.”

Sandy nodded, so I went upstairs to the bedroom I’d chosen at the far end of the hall. It was tan…everywhere. There was an upholstered headboard the same color as the walls, so much so that it blended in. I guess if that was what he liked…

After a quick shower, I dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, knowing the amount of clothes I’d brought along wouldn’t last a week, much less however long it would take me to finish the project. I could do laundry, but I’d have to check with Sandy whether he wanted me to do it at my mother’s or if it was okay to use his machines.

I gathered my stuff and shoved it into my duffel before going downstairs. I put the bag by the front door to take to my mother’s house in the morning and wandered into the kitchen.

Tomatoes, a head of lettuce, a red onion, and a few packages of cheese were on a cutting board on the counter, along with a plate of uncooked burgers and a package of buns. “Need help?”

Sandy glanced up from where he was buttering the buns. “What’s with the duffel bag? You already going back to your mom’s to begin recording?” His face was emotionless, and I wondered if he hoped I was.

“I’m going over in the morning to do laundry. What would you like me to do?” I pointed to the vegetables on the counter.

Sandy cockily walked over to the door next to the refrigerator and opened it. “There’s a washer and dryer right in there.”

I already knew that from when I’d looked around, but I hadn’t been sure how to ask if I could use it. I was fine around kids, even the seniors at my high school. It was the adults I encountered that threw me for a loop.

My face heated as I walked over to the counter. “I, uh, I didn’t want to assume anything. May I use your washer? I’ll happily pay you what I’d pay at the laundromat.” There, that was polite.

Sandy chuckled. “No payment necessary. What’s mine is yours.” He put a cutting board, a chef’s knife, a tomato, and a red onion in front of me. “Slice.” I did as he said.

Once I had the tomatoes and onions sliced, Sandy handed me a platter before he put the head of lettuce in front of me. “Tear off some leaves, please.”

I nodded and proceeded to tear off a few leaves before rinsing them and placing them on a paper towel to dry. “Next?”

“You drink alcohol?” I glanced to my left to see Sandy staring at me.

“Uh, not a lot, but I like a beer now and then.”

Sandy nodded and went to the fridge, pulling out two pale ales, popping off the caps, and handing one to me. It was ice cold and smooth going down. I only had beer during the summer at cookouts with friends, but since it was almost summer and we were cooking outside, I considered it as keeping up with my regular routine. The only difference—I was with a drop-dead gorgeous football player instead of the school staff and the folks I played summer softball with back in Peoria.

“Did this impromptu trip cancel any plans you had for a vacation? School’s out, right?”

I glanced up from where I was staring at the packages of cheese he’d put on the counter to see the man was studying me closely as he waited for my answer.

“School’s not out until next Friday. I had to leave a week early because of Regal’s surgery. My middle school band had their concert on Thursday night, so our year was pretty much over after that. The high school band had a competition in April, so their work was already over. The concert choir is singing at the graduation, but one of my colleagues is handling that in my absence.”

Sandy nodded. “That didn’t answer my question about vacation plans.”

He was blunt. I’d give him that. “Oh, sorry. No, I had no plans for vacation. I have—rather I had—a job lined up at a nursery in Peoria for the summer, but that’s out the window now. I play on a summer softball league and volunteer at the animal shelter in town, but I won’t be doing any of that now.”

Being unable to work at the West Peoria Animal Adoption Center for the summer was a letdown. I enjoyed helping with the love and care of the animals during the summer, especially the big dogs. I could take them running with me and not worry about them keeping up. Was that more of my mother rubbing off on me?

“I couldn’t do that. They kill those animals if they don’t get adopted, right?” Sandy stared at me.

It was a harsh reality of the rescue animal world, but thankfully, not at WPAAC. “Uh, some do, but I volunteer at a no-kill shelter. They collaborate with other no-kill shelters around the country. If an animal isn’t adopted within six months at one place, they rotate them through another shelter. Just because the animal isn’t a fit for a family in West Peoria doesn’t mean it won’t find a forever family in Iowa or Kentucky.”

I then pointed to the cheeses. “You want me to open all of these? Are you expecting company? I can make myself scarce if you have a date.” If he had a date, I could eat really quick and disappear.

Sandy chuckled. “No dating for me. Once burned, twice shy. I planned to put the extra burgers in the freezer. How many do you want? I always eat two. Pick a cheese. I like the jalape?o cheddar.”

I looked at the size of the patties to see they were probably eight ounces. I’d be fine with one, but I wasn’t nearly as tall or muscular as the football player. “One’s fine for me.”

When Sandy’s eyes scanned my body, I shivered. The heat from his sage-green stare could set me on fire in a heartbeat. “Mm-hmm. You’re a lot fitter than I thought. Sorry for judging a book by its title—well, if that makes sense. I remember my teachers from high school, and our band teacher got winded when he walked across the room.”

“Oh, were you in band?” I picked up the jalape?o cheddar and opened it, removing several slices and putting them on a small plate on the counter.

Sandy handed me a walnut tray. “Can you put all of that here? It’s a nice evening, and I thought we could eat outside. I’ll bring out a bucket of beer and meet you there. The table’s already set.”

That was a surprise. He seemed to be going to a lot of trouble for me, which I wanted to assure him wasn’t necessary. I truly needed to chip in on the food. I wasn’t a freeloader. I’d paid my own way for a long time.

I carried the tray downstairs and out the French doors, where a glass-topped dining table was set for two and lighted citronella torches flanked the ends of the patio not covered by the large awning near the pool. There were two grills at the uncovered end. One was gas and the other charcoal. Sandy seemed to have a perfectly stocked home for someone who lived alone.

I walked over to the enormous gas grill, lifting the lid to see it was immaculate. It was large enough that a whole suckling pig could be cooked on it—not that I was a fan of suckling pigs.

The French door squeaked open, and I turned to see Sandy with a small, galvanized bucket with a few bottlenecks sticking out of the ice. There was also a green-and-tan canvas bag over his shoulder. His eyes stayed trained on me as he approached his large grill. “I’m heating the charcoal grill. Unless you don’t like charcoal flavor?”

I hurriedly closed the lid like I’d been caught doing something wrong. “I’m fine with charcoal. It sounds delicious. What’s in the bag?” Man, I sound nosy. “I mean, what can I help you with?”

My host opened the tote and produced two kinds of chips and a condiment caddy complete with napkins and barbecue tools. “It’s easier to bring things down in the tote. I’ve thought about putting a deck upstairs and making the bay window into a walkout, but I don’t think I want the grills up there. I like having the outdoor kitchen by the pool. I spend a lot of time down here, and this is convenient, especially with the refrigerator over there.” He pointed to a large stainless drawer under the kitchen counter. I had no idea it was a refrigerator.

Sandy had an entire kitchen built in the grill area. It was a cool setup, absolutely nothing like my little concrete slab and two chairs behind my rental house in Peoria, where my mini charcoal grill sat.

“I see what you mean. You could build a small balcony where you could sit outside up there, maybe have your morning coffee. You could also add a dumbwaiter somewhere so you could load everything on it and move it from the kitchen upstairs to the patio downstairs a lot easier.”

Sandy turned to give me a glare, so I shut my mouth. Clearly, my opinion was of no importance, and he didn’t appreciate it.

“Sorry.”

He picked up the tray of burgers and put it on the counter of the large gas grill. “What are you sorry for? I’m kicking my own ass for not thinking about adding those things.”

I swallowed my nerves. “I thought maybe I spoke out of turn. You have a beautiful pool. Was it here when you moved in?” I glanced around to see how well everything went together. It was obviously designed by someone who knew what they were doing.

There were rattan loungers with aqua cushions. All the chairs matched, and it made quite an incredible visual. The pool tiles were shades of blue with a sunburst in the center of the pool floor, and small solar lights surrounded the ledge. It was quite impressive, like nothing I’d ever seen.

“It was here. I bought the place furnished. Only replaced the mattresses. I could never put this together myself.” Sandy then went about putting four burgers on the grill and four sets of buns on the rack above to brown.

He turned to me. “You want your onion grilled or do you take it raw.”

The way he said raw had me thinking of something else, but I pulled my mind out of the gutter quickly. If I thought I had a chance in Hades of kissing the man, I’d skip the onion, but… “Grilled sounds good.” I put raw onion slices on my plate and carried them to the charcoal grill.

“Thanks.” Sandy used a set of tongs to place the onions on the grill next to the burgers and closed the lid.

“Do you have any siblings besides Marshall?” He hadn’t said anything for a minute, and the silence was daunting. I imagined my attempt at small talk was probably way worse.

“Nope, there’s just me and Marsh. Oh, I’m sure Mom and Dad wish they could have another, but they’re too old now. They thought Marsh was a girl because the sonogram was unclear. He came out with a penis, which surprised them. Funnily enough, I called my parents after I got fired from the Breeze, and do you know what my father said when I called back after Mom hung up on me? ‘I guess your mom actually got the girl she always wanted, only it was our oldest child. Don’t call us again. You’re dead to us now.’ Nice, huh?”

My heart squeezed at his words. Who could do that to a child? I started to open my mouth, though I wasn’t sure if I had anything to say that would be consoling or appreciated. Thankfully, Sandy waved me off.

“It’s done. All water under a very ugly bridge. Anyway, how do you like your burger?”

“Medium, please.”

Sandy nodded and flipped the patties. A few minutes later, he carried over a clean plate with the meat, buns, and onions. We each dressed our burgers before Sandy took my empty beer bottle and replaced it with a full one.

“Thank you. I want to pitch in on the food you’re providing. I’ll go to an ATM tomorrow and draw out more cash. I can go grocery shopping if you want to make a list. I know you didn’t get much of a choice in this matter, so I don’t want to be a burden.” I meant every word.

“It’s fine. I look forward to collecting a few favors from my brother over this. Tell me about your school.”

I could talk about my school and my students all day long. “It’s a smaller school system in West Peoria, a sister city to Peoria. I teach middle and high school band classes, which I love. I have about ten middle schoolers in the concert band and thirty-two high schoolers in the marching and concert bands.

“I also sponsor the jazz band, which is open to every student, whether they’re in band or choir, and I teach music to the middle schoolers. I’m the director of the high school concert and acapella choirs, too, but I have a co-director who helps with those, Christine Quinton. She’s working part-time at the elementary school right now, but she’s hoping to get something full-time soon.” I was downplaying how much I loved teaching. I didn’t imagine someone like Sandy Kensington would really find my gushing over my students very entertaining.

“She your girlfriend?” He was studying me to the point I was fidgeting like the younger kids in my classes.

I couldn’t hold back the laugh. “Gosh, no. Gold-star gay here. Christine is a sweet young woman who is engaged to be married next spring. Her fiancé, Rich Sohn, works for the West Peoria police department. Super nice guy. He holds the active-shooter drills at our schools.”

Sandy flinched. “God, I hate to fuck that’s even a thing kids need to know.”

I reached for a bag of chips and opened it, extending it to him. “Since 2000, there have been over sixteen hundred casualties from school shootings. It’s better to teach kids what to do if, God forbid, it should happen at their school than to leave them as sitting ducks. I hate it as much as the next teacher, but it’s a necessary evil.”

“Are you worried about it?” Sandy took a sip of his beer.

“Every day.” That was no lie.

“On a much lighter note, how’s the song coming along?”

I groaned. “You think that’s a lighter subject?” We both laughed. “I hate to tell you, but I’m just as worried about the song. I’m having trouble not hearing the original melody in my head. It’s my favorite song the band ever made. Regal said he wrote it when Mom left him the first time after she caught him fooling around with a groupie while she was pregnant with me. They broke up and got back together more times than I could count after that.

“From the Ashes started playing gigs in 1985. They had a few songs chart but no big successes over the ten years before ‘Bury Me’ came out. Hair bands gave way to the grunge movement in the nineties, but the guys couldn’t let go of their love of rocking out. They weren’t as hardcore as the other bands, but they were trying.”

In my mind, From the Ashes was never meant to be a metal band. They had a unique sound at the time, but until ‘Bury Me’, they were just another hair band without a place to fit in.

“‘Bury Me’ doesn’t sound like a rock song.” Sandy fixed himself another burger. I hadn’t finished my first one, yet.

“It’s not. It’s a ballad in the eighties hair band tradition. It’s like trying to turn a football player into a ballet dancer. It can be done, but not without a lot of hard work.”

Sandy laughed. “I took ballet classes in high school when I thought I would be a wide receiver. Coach said they helped with agility. They weren’t bad until my arms, legs, and feet grew crazy fast and the rest of me didn’t. I looked like some sort of freak made from two separate bodies with long arms and legs and a small torso.”

I wasn’t sure why, but that cracked me up.