Smolder (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Skyler

Sandy and I sat in the spa for an hour, laughing and talking. We got out, wrapped ourselves in plush blue pool towels, and went inside through the gym to the bar area. “How about a nightcap?”

He listed off a few brandies and cognacs before he got to my favorite Irish whiskey. I didn’t drink it often, but I drank it on occasion. I liked how it warmed me from the inside out.

A lovely crystal tumbler was placed in front of me, and then Sandy poured himself the same. He walked around the bar and sat on the stool next to me, both of us still in towels. He held up his glass and grinned. “Here’s to the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

I laughed. “Plagiarizing Bogey?”

“You know that movie? I love old classics. I took a film class in college, and of course, it was included in the syllabus. Films by Decade introduced me to some amazing movies.” His grin was excited, which made me excited with him.

“I know Casablanca . What true romantic doesn’t know those famous lines and Rick’s sacrifice for love. I cry at the end every time I watch it.” That was no lie.

I sipped my drink, enjoying the warmth and wishing his arms were around me as they had been while we were in the spa. I should have pushed him more. Being intimate with him would have fulfilled a new fantasy that haunted me nightly.

“Have you heard from Marshall? I forgot my phone at the farm.” I pulled my towel closed as I turned my stool toward him.

“Oh! What are we drinking, boys? Did we just get busy in the pool? How long does it take the filter to cycle so your jizz is out of it.” I turned to see Marshall standing in the doorway to the gym.

Sandy growled a little as he turned toward his brother. “You’re a dick. We didn’t do anything but soak in the spa. Skyler was stiff from sitting behind a drum set all day.”

Marshall walked behind the bar and poured himself a drink, leaning against the counter behind him. “What are we talking about? Where’d ya go?” Marshall’s voice mimicked a sixteen-year-old girl’s voice.

I chuckled, but Sandy didn’t. “What did the old guys say after we left? About the song?”

“Oh, uh, they love the song, but they don’t think they can pull it off, even with Skyler playing in Regal’s place. So, maybe we’re back to the drawing board? The others are coming back tomorrow, so I guess you better get to bed, right?” Marshall pointed to me.

I shot back the rest of my drink and gathered my clothes, taking them upstairs. Just to be a real jerk, when I got to the stairs to go up, I dropped my towel and walked slowly up the stairs with my bare butt hanging out.

I was sure my whole body was red because I was embarrassed by my own behavior, but Marshall was really plucking my last nerve.

“Son of a— Marsh, you fucking prick, go to hell.” Sandy’s voice carried up the stairwell behind me. The frustration in his voice made me giggle again.

A week after my walk out, I met JD, Arlo, Goldie, and River at Regal’s studio. We’d taken a week off for me to re-evaluate the rewrite and make some changes to better accommodate the men in From the Ashes. We were set to record the song on Tuesday to send to the studio, and a producer was coming from San Francisco to help us out. Ace was good, but we needed a professional.

I’d been training with Sandy twice a day to work on my core, and my new constant friend was ibuprofen, antacids, and some sort of healing green tea in the mornings, followed by protein shakes and a dietary change with lots of fish, baked chicken, and green vegetables in the afternoon, along with brutal workouts and hikes.

The best thing about it was that my body was changing for the better, and the hiking, running, and yoga I practiced helped my stamina. The worst thing about it—lots of embarrassing gas.

“Okay, I had an idea about this I want to run by the guys.” I handed out new sheet music for everyone, not needing one for myself. “This is the rewrite for the intro. Let’s run through it before they show up, okay?”

Everyone nodded, which was a relief, and I got behind the drum kit, picking up my phone to see I had a missed call from my mom and a text asking if I wanted to stay for dinner. I shoved it in my back pocket to deal with later and picked up the sticks.

“On my count. Play from the sheets. One. Two. Three. Four.” I cracked the sticks together at a much slower pace than Ace had recorded the previous week, and we played. To me, it sounded as though we were playing in slow motion.

River stopped playing, shaking his head. “It sounds like shit, no offense, Sky. It’s gotta go at the harder pace we played last week. It’s the only way the song works.” Sadly, he was right.

The door opened, and Regal walked in without his cane. I wasn’t even sure why he had it in the first place. “What the fuck was that?” Regal wasn’t an eloquent speaker by any stretch.

“It was the song with a slower tempo and a few changes in the guitar riff for Dusty.” It should have been obvious to a monkey, I was sure.

“Well, it sounds like shit. Play it the other way.” Nobody ever said Regal was stupid—all the time.

“You guys insist on playing the song, and all of you said you couldn’t play it the way I wrote it. What do you want to do about it?” I stood from the kit and walked over to him, holding out the sticks.

“No. I’ll talk to the guys. I have an idea in my head. Practice it the way you wrote it. The producer Marsh hired will be here Monday. He’ll record the intro to send to the studio. That’ll buy us some time, I believe. I need you guys out by three, okay? I’ll order you some sandwiches for lunch.”

Without waiting for another word from us, Regal walked out. I glanced at everyone and shrugged. “Let’s take it from the top and do it like we did last week.” And we did. River changed the guitar riff, incorporating some of my changes, and it sounded even better.

I lost myself again in the music. I slapped the toms and pounded the crash cymbals until we got to the first verse. Then we all faded so Goldie’s voice could be heard clearly. The kid wailed and the runs were absolutely incredible.

The rest of us came in on the chorus to harmonize with Goldie. The synergy swirling around the room was glorious…like nothing I’d ever experienced, and the feeling was heady. No wonder my father was so addicted to this life.

For an instant, I felt like a god. Could I consider giving up teaching for this?

“I text you about staying for supper. You want to?” Mom was standing at the stove stirring something in a pot that smelled incredible.

“Is that your chili?” Mom made the most incredible chili I’d ever tasted, though she didn’t put meat in it.

“Kind of. Your father, River, and Jeanne are carnivores, so I took some out for me and put hamburger in it. You’re welcome to stay.” I grabbed a glass of water and downed it in two gulps.

“Thanks Mom, but I can’t. I have stuff to do at Sandy’s house. We’re going out to Los Gatos to hike Mount Umunhum. Sandy goes out there to hike a lot, so I’m going along. Thanks for the invite, but I’ll see you tomorrow, Mom.” I kissed her cheek and left just as Jeanne came inside with groceries.

I said goodbye and walked out to Sandy’s Yukon, seeing my brother carrying bags for his mom. “I’ll be back in the morning at nine. Can you tell JD, Arlo, and Goldie?”

“Sure, man. Thanks for all you’re doing, Sky. I know the old guys are frustrating as hell, but I think what we’re doing is incredible. After we do this, would you be interested in starting a band with Arlo, Goldie, JD, and me? I think we could really make some great tunes, man.”

I definitely didn’t want to dissuade River from following his natural talents, nor did I want to give him false hope that I would follow Regal into music. “I think you could find a better drummer than me, Riv. Be on the lookout. You never know when you’ll find someone as ambitious as you three.” I mussed his long hair before he could dodge me and head inside.

Hopping into Sandy’s Yukon, I headed back to San Jose. Twenty minutes later, I parked in the garage and entered through the back door. Sandy’s Maserati was in the garage, so I knew he was at the house, even though I didn’t see him by the pool.

The back door was unlocked, and when I opened it, something delicious caught my nose. My stomach grumbled in response to the tantalizing scent, so I followed it up the stairs and into the kitchen.

Coldplay was on the sound system, so I snatched a cherry tomato off the cutting board and walked up behind Sandy, standing on my tiptoes to kiss the side of his neck. We’d put our romantic pursuits on hold, but I wanted to get things back on track. Taking care of things in the shower wasn’t how I wanted to start my day.

“Hey, teach. How was practice?” He turned around and took the small tomato, popping it into his mouth before he put my hands on his shoulders.

“Good and bad. Regal didn’t like it when we slowed the tempo. It did sound like we were playing in slow motion, but I don’t see us reaching any type of compromise. River asked me if I wanted to start a band with him, Arlo, Goldie, and JD. I told him to be on the lookout for another drummer.”

“So, you’re really not thinking about leaving teaching?”

I move my hands to rest on his pecs. “You didn’t believe me?”

“I won’t say that, teach. I just thought the money you could make might be a draw.” Sandy kissed the tip of my nose before turning off the oven. “I baked some chicken thighs and roasted some fresh vegetables. Let’s skip the hiking until tomorrow morning and go for a run. What do you think?”

“I like that idea. I wasn’t really up for a long hike. A run sounds good. Let me change.” I started to walk away, but Sandy grabbed my hand and pulled me back to kiss my lips.

His tongue slid along my bottom lip, and I opened to accept him inside. Our tongues met in a wild dance that had my blood racing south in a hurry. His arms wrapped around me, and thoughts of running flew out of my head.

Sandy pulled away. We were both breathing hard. I was a little dizzy, but it was in the best possible way.

The handsome football player turned me around and swatted my bottom. “Go change. Let’s do this.”

I hurried upstairs and went to the spare room to change out of my jeans and into a pair of shorts. I slid off my Vans and grabbed my running shoes to hurry back downstairs. The kitchen was empty, so after I tied my running shoes, I grabbed my phone to scroll through the text messages. Most of them were stupid robotic messages, but a few were on my school bulletin board page.

The first was from Ryan Frye, a trombone player in my junior high band.

Mr. Ashe—my grandpa gave me his old trombone. Do you know anyone who can fix it up? Thank you. Ryan Frye.

I pecked out a response with the name and number for Mr. Monaco, a brass instrument repair technician who owned a music shop in Deer Park, outside of Chicago. The school contracted with Mr. Monaco to rent instruments to the students in my classes. He was a very nice man and would do right by Ryan.

The next one was from the school administrator asking which teachers wanted to relocate their classrooms, which didn’t apply to me because the band room was the band room, and I couldn’t relocate.

The third message was from one of the guys in the jazz band I sponsored: Petey Ritter.

Mr. Ashe—when will you be back from vacation? I mowed your lawn today, and I was hoping to get paid. I hate to ask, but I had to pawn my guitar and need to get it out. Talk soon? Petey.

“Shoot.” I’d forgotten about paying Petey.

“What’s wrong?” Sandy stepped closer to me and moved my longer bangs off my forehead. His other hand came from behind his back, and he put a headband around my neck before pushing it over my forehead to keep my bangs out of my eyes.

“Thank you. That was very sweet of you.”

He tossed a drugstore bag on the counter and grinned. “What has you saying words that aren’t anywhere close to curse words?”

I chuckled. “I have a student who cuts my grass. He’s had some family issues in the past, and I helped by letting him stay with me for a few weeks. I’m just finding out he had to pawn his guitar for some reason. He wants to know when I can pay him so he can get it out.”

“How much do you pay him to cut your grass? How much grass do you have?” Sandy rubbed the back of his fingers over my nipple, sending a shiver over my skin, the tease.

I pulled away, a shy smile taking over my face. “You’re trying to get me all riled up, aren’t you?”

Sandy ignored my accusation. “Can you Venmo the kid?”

“I’ll have to ask him. I’d really like to know why he pawned his guitar in the first place, but I don’t know if it’s my place to ask. He lives with his grandmother who is really sweet but not in the best health. She has diabetes. Maybe I’ll call Mrs. Brownlee, the secretary at school, to see if she knows anything. She always seems to know the gossip around town.”

Sandy nodded and patted my shoulder. “Ready?” He put the house key in a little pocket inside his shorts, and the two of us were off.