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Skewed

Renee S. DeCamillis

    The drive up South Mountain to Dobbins Ridge seemed longer than any of my previous visits, but the scenery appeared more breathtaking than I’d ever realized. I could make out images within the rock formations I had completely turned an oblivious eye to on all other occasions. Two in particular I’ll never forget. A blazing scarlet horse raised up on its hind legs was the first image to jump out at me. A little further up the mountain I spied what looked like a face with a beaming smile winking at Gabriel and me. Many more images within the rocks were popping, too many to recall. Waves of burnt orange, copper, and shades of blood and fire reds mesmerized my attention like an acid flashback. Everything that surrounded us was beyond surreal.
    We pulled up to the pinnacle just before sunset. He edged the car up as close to the rim of the cliff as possible. He put it in park, not a word was yet spoken. Comfort and connection were shared in the silence. We drank in all the colors of the descending star of fire, in awe, as it slowly disappeared over the distant horizon. Splashed across the desert sky, like paints on an artist’s canvas, were brilliant hues of amethyst, plum, azure, scarlet and ginger.
    Peering for what felt like an eternity, darkness began to creep in upon us. Gazing out over the glistening lights of Phoenix, as they mirrored the emerging diamond filled night sky, his approach was voracious. His lips pressed against my collar bone, and once the connection was attained, and well received by me, he moved slower with light tickling touches. A rustle of his sandy blond shoulder length hair and a kiss to his forehead let him know I wouldn’t push him away, but would only pull him closer. In his presence the fact that we were married, and not to each other, never crossed my mind. In that moment nothing else mattered, except Gabriel and me and what was about to transpire.
    The progression to fondling had ensued. I whispered in his ear, “Let’s grab the blanket out of the back and find a more private spot outside with nature.”
    “You read my mind,” he whispered back, sending chills up and down my entire body.
    We found a spot behind massive rocks where there was a patch of soft, warm sand among Saguaro cacti and Palo Verde trees. He spread out the blanket, but not fast enough. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to the ground, kissing him all over. I couldn’t wait to completely take him in. I felt like I had finally found what had been missing all along, the missing piece to my puzzled being, the absent half of myself.
    I unbuttoned his shirt and then slipped mine off. He began to unbutton my shorts when I noticed his hands were trembling. It was not cold. It was the first of May.
    “Is everything alright,” I asked, as I embraced his face in my hands and our harmonizing crystal blues found a prolonged connection.
    His expression was that of a shy school boy. He glanced away for a moment before saying, “I just never thought you would ever...we would ever...I always wanted to, but...”
    I pressed my finger against his insecure smile. A blue on blue stare continued, and then I pressed my lips against his.
    We melted into one another. The motion of our bodies against one another’s, warm, gentle, fitting together like interlocking puzzle pieces, was more natural than anything I had ever experienced. Everything was perfect, more perfect than I had imagined. And I had imagined that very moment eventually happening. I imagined it often. More often than he was ever aware.
    In my idealistic fantasy, we were both divorced, or at least separated, by the time our relationship moved to the next level. But we’re not perfect. Nobody is.

    Gabriel had voiced his marital issues with me often. We had been each other’s sounding boards for a few months.
    Gabriel had been suspecting his wife of cheating, but he had been unable to uncover the truth. They had a small child together, so none of what was happening in his life was easy for him to deal with. His wife, Samantha, had been neglecting him for her creative endeavors as an up and coming novelist. She also had not been spending much quality time with their son, Addison. She almost appeared annoyed at the fact that they had a child at all; it took time away from her writing. He never wanted his son to have to deal with his parent’s having a broken marriage. That’s never easy on a child. But it’s worse for a child to experience their parents staying together only for the sake of upholding the family unit, without love for one another as a couple. Tensions can always be sensed. Children are very intuitive and sensitive to their environment.
    I, on the other hand, had a husband who adored me beyond my wildest dreams. He did everything for me, and always told me how beautiful and intelligent I was. That was new to me. My previous relationships were horrific beyond belief. When I realized Jason was completely different than all the rest, and would treat me like a queen, I jumped at the chance to marry him. Plus, it appeared, at the time, we had a lot in common. So why stray? It’s complicated, and maybe selfish. But he was not the man I thought he was when I married him. Don’t get me wrong, he still treated me like a queen, as always, but his character was skewed.

    Jason and I first met at a mutual friend’s party ten years ago. We were both in our early twenties. My best friend, Jules, was with me. She was always scoping out musicians no matter where we went. This was the primo party to fulfill her agenda. There was live music, drinking and ganga smoking galore. It was a blast. A large portion of the party goers were musicians, as were Jason and I. The ones who weren’t musicians were avid music fans and companions of the musicians. Jack and his wife Tia were the hosts.
    Jules was always a spunky little number. She always made the parties we attended more interesting than before we arrived. She also was the one who pushed me to introduce myself to Jason.
    Jules had always been the exotic sex-goddess type, with long jet black hair, olive skin, abs as type as a drum and legs that went on for miles. She turned heads anywhere she went. Her long locks took attention away from her large nose and slightly pocked face. She loved to tease all the young guys who dared hit on her, or she would hit on the shy boys just to see them twitch and hear them stutter. That night she was in rare form. She was rollin’ and pheromones were practically oozing from her every pore. Ecstasy was never my drug of choice, but she ate it like candy.
    Jack & Tia’s basement was set up and decorated like a music venue with a liquor stocked tiki-bar, beer taps, neon lights and all. Jack junior had made a personalized sign in wood-working class for his daddy’s birthday that year. It read ‘Jack’s Musik Denn’ and hung behind the bar just over the shelf of liquor bottles.
    ‘Jack’s Musik Denn’ had a stage set up on the far side facing the bar. It was complete with stage lighting, PA gear, monitors, mics, Marshall and Mesa guitar stacks, an Ampeg bass stack and even a complete drum kit with double bass drums, and of course, a cowbell and a gong. Every musician who had the pleasure of experiencing ‘Jack’s Musik Denn’ had a full on orgasm over Jack and Tia’s innovation. Jules had an orgasm over selling all that gear to them to get the den outfitted. Back then Jules worked sales at a local music supply store in Tempe. Her sales that summer landed her salesperson of the month, three months in a row. Now she’s the manager. The only thing any musician had to bring to ‘The Denn’ in order to join in the show was their own personal instrument, all except the drummer. Drummers have a bitch of an instrument to transport. That was why Jack and Tia made sure to have a kit already for any drummer who wanted to join in and rock some rhythms.
    The cement floor was covered in royal purple and blood red shag carpeting, perfect for intoxicated naked romps. Jules was often a participant with some young up and coming musician. She was often thought of as an overzealous groupie type by those who did not understand her like I did. There was no shag around the bar due to my many Merlot spills. It blended well with the red but not so much with the purple. In that area were various tie-dyed throw rugs, randomly placed.
    After the first round of musicians jumped on stage and played a set of some screeching tunes by The Who and Sabbath, Jules danced her tight little ass over to the drummer, Drew, as soon as he stepped down and grabbed a beer. I could see it in her eyes; she was on the prowl.
    “Well, I can see you’re just as crazy as Keith Moon himself. Are you as crazy off stage as you are on?” She leaned back and rested an elbow on one of the big speakers to show off her tight, toned, tanned and exposed abs.
    “I’d say yes, but maybe you’d like to find out for yourself.” He tipped his beer to her and took a swig.
    “Seeing is believing, they say.” She twirled her finger in her silver belly chain, luring his eyes to her midriff.
    He put his hand on her hip and pulled her closer to him. “Who are they, anyway? I say...”
    He was not able to finish his sentence before she stuck her tongue down his throat. What a charmer.
    All I could do was roll my eyes, laugh and wander off to find others to converse with. I was used to her always hooking up when she and I went to parties and concerts.
    I noticed, as I strolled over to the bar for another drink, that Jack and Tia had done some more decorating since the last party they threw a couple months before. Retro velvet and satin-like 70’s style wall paper with a raised paisley motif adorned the two longest walls, in shades of black, gray and silver. It looked so soft I wanted to touch it, until I turned around and noticed others were one step ahead of me. Jules had Drew pinned up against the wall. They were rubbing all over the velvet wall paper, almost as much as they were against each other. Yeah, a little disturbing, I know. Even more disturbing due to her earlier ecstasy intake. I don’t think I need to elaborate; I’m sure you can just imagine.
    Sitting at the bar with my second drink I couldn’t help laughing to myself about Jules and her brazen ways. I could always count on her to keep things interesting. Jack sat beside me with a drink and a smoke.
    “Care for a toke?”
    “Do you even have to ask, silly boy?” I took the joint and inhaled more laughter.
    “Jules is in rare form tonight. Look at her go. Did she even know Drew before tonight?” He grabbed the joint from my outstretched hand.
    “Rare? Come on. This is Jules you’re talking about.” I shot him a sidelong look and a smirk.
    “Yeah, true. What was I thinking? Seriously, did they just meet?” He took another hit and handed it back.
    “Of course. Is that any surprise?” I was taking another hit as Jack went on.
    “It would be to his wife, Jill, who just called to tell Tia she is on her way.” Jack’s eyebrows were raised. He started laughing and coughing at the same time.
    I could barely hold my hit in. I passed the herbal supplement and said, “Are you fucking kidding me? Cut it out, Jack. I just might piss myself.” I was coughing and laughing by this time.
    “I’m glad you’re laughing, but I’m not joking.” He took a rip and laughed even more.
    “Shit! I gotta go tell Jules, or there’s going to be a knock down drag out brawl up in here when his wife sees,” I turned to Jules and saw her and Drew practically dry humping against the velvet, “THAT!”
    I pried Jules off from Drew, “I thought you might want to know that Jill is on her way.”
    “What do I care? I don’t know a Jill.” Jules turned back to Drew, who pulled away.
    “My wife?” He was wide-eyed and almost instantly started shaking.
    “You’re married? Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “You never asked.”
    “I shouldn’t have to ask.”
    “Jules, I don’t think you gave him much of a chance once you jammed your tongue down his throat. But that doesn’t matter now. Just cut the shit before Jill...”
    “Before Jill what?” I heard a female ask from behind us.
    I did not turn around to see who was talking. I knew.
    I jumped out of the way.
    Jules ducked.
    Jill popped Drew right in the mouth.
    “What the fuck do you think...” Jill and Drew went on to fight, but took it quickly outside to respect Jack and Tia.
    Jules and I did not stay close enough to hear what came next. We were afraid it might be another fist swinging.
    We took a couple seats at a bar table beside the stage under some various rock, funk, and metal band flags. I pulled out a bowl, packed it and lit up. We stoked the bowl, laughed and stared at the glowing black light posters all around. We laughed so hard we couldn’t even talk about what just happened.
    I was thankful that was not me walking in on my husband and another girl. Poor Jill.
    We never did see Jill or Drew the rest of the night.
    I should get back to telling you how Jason and I met. It is just too hard to pass up a chance to pass on a tale about Jules and one of her zany escapades.
    So, all the musicians were having a free for all, taking turns playing tunes for the crowd. It was unbelievable, and very inspiring. After Jason jumped on stage and strapped on an acoustic guitar and harmonica to play and sing Dylan’s “Mr. Tambourine Man,” he sat at the bar with a tall, frothy mug of Guinness. I not only took notice of him due to the fact that I loved Bob Dylan, but Jason was an eye catching gem of a young man. What girl could have resisted moving in on that fine specimen? Not me. I wanted to know him.
    Jules took notice of him too. She jumped out of her chair when Jason stepped off stage, but I grabbed her arm and yanked her back into her seat. “This one is mine, honey. You just watch and learn,” I said while pulling my wavy bronze hair over the front of my shoulders.
    “Yeah! Go for it. I want to see you hook up for a change. Plus, Dylan. Come on. It’s like he was playing for you.” She was practically pushing me out of my seat. “Make sure he’s not married,” she added with a chuckle as I wandered over to the bar.
    “That was a freakin’ sweet ass performance. I absolutely love Dylan.” I planted my short-shorts covered ass in the bar stool next to Jason and slid it closer as I spoke.
    “Hey, thanks a lot. Yeah, that one sure is a crowd pleaser. Do you play?” He wiped the beer froth off from his beginnings of a beard and looked straight into my eyes waiting for my response.
    His eyes were such a dark brown they were almost black - kind of creepy but intriguing at the same time – like the Source of All Evil. Danger always had the tendency to turn me on, especially at that young age.
    “Well, yeah, a little. I sing and play guitar, but I’m no professional. You, on the other hand, sound like you must be in a gigging band. Are you?” I held the gaze into his eyes.
    “Wow, thanks. Another compliment. Yes, I am. I play in a band with D, Stash, and Brian the beat master; those three dudes over there on the couch doin’ shots of Jager.” He pointed to the far side of the basement where his band mates were sitting. They were bathed in the glow of black lights and disco ball reflections. Just behind their heads on the wall hung a flag with the infamous image of Jimi Hendrix with his Fender in flames.
    When they noticed Jason pointing in their direction Stash, the one in the middle with the dirty blond dreads, held up the bottle of Jager. D and Brian held up their full shot glasses.
    Jason held up his mug of Guinness and yelled, “Cheers.” They all downed their Jager, and Jason took a big haul off his beer.
    Jason continued, “I think they may jump up and play a song or two with me before the night’s over; most likely something heavier. Well, that is if they’re not passed out or puking by then.” He tipped his mug and finished his beer. “But, yeah, we were gigging out around the greater Phoenix area, now we’re trying to find a studio to start recording our first cd in.” He ran his fingers through his long, dark, wavy hair. I hoped it was to get a closer look at me. The glide of his hand through his hair gave me a chance to see no wedding ring on his hand. Yes!
    “Wow! Really? That’s pretty fuckin’ sweet. I have to tell ya’, today is your lucky day.” I grabbed his empty glass, leaned over the bar, and filled it from the Guinness tap. “I intern at one of the best studios in the Greater Phoenix area. Have you and your boys ever heard of Fat Cat Studio Oasis? It’s in the downtown Mesa Arts District.” I must have been beaming. I’ve never had much of a poker face.
    “No shit! You work there? What a killer studio to intern at. They have the best engineers and producers in the Southwest. People come from all over the country to record there. I can’t fuckin’ believe this! Can you get us in?” By this time, his beaming face was definitely outshining mine.
    I glanced at Jules out of the corner of my eye. She wasn’t where I had left her. She had somehow found her way over to the couch with Jason’s boys. She saw my glance and gave me wink and a secretive thumbs-up.
    “Can I get you in? Sure as shit I can. Lou – ‘slick lick’ - Terroni, the owner and head producer, is my mentor. I’m really just basically his little bitch errand girl, but he is teaching me the ins and outs of the craft at the same time.”
    I had said the magic words. I knew at that moment he was mine. I reached over the bar for the bottles of gin and ginger ale and poured myself another good stiff drink. I knew we’d be getting funky that night.
    And we did.
    We were married three years later.

    In the early stage of our relationship Jason told me, as we sat at Dobbins Ridge watching the sunset, “Most of my inspiration for my song writing comes from my dreams. I like to write them all down in a dream journal, squeezing song lyrics out of their twisted story lines. I get some really creative shit that way.”
    That was a notch on my ‘keeper list.’
    I swam in his gaze and responded, “That’s so cool. I do the same thing. How weird is that?” I took it as one sign of compatibility.
    The funny thing is, in the ten years we had been together, I never saw him write more than maybe one verse for one of his band’s songs. I never saw him regurgitate any dreams onto paper. I never even saw the dream journal he had raved about.
    In the pre-marriage stage of our relationship we went to South Mountain at least once a week to just bathe in the beauty of the desert vista. It was like foreplay for me. It fed my desire for him to the point of wanting to devour him.
    Once married, he never wanted to go back to ‘our spot’ to watch the sunset, or the city lights, or the cloud formations, or the waves of colors that consumed the towering rocks, or the rush of excitement it all brought on.
    No more foreplay for me.
    I’d often suggest, “Hey, Babe, let’s take a drive up South Mountain, I feel the sunset will be amazing tonight.” I’d wink, move in close to him, nuzzle his neck and nibble his ear.
    He’d pull away and say, “I can see the sunset from our back yard just fine, and our bed is a hell of a lot more comfortable than sand and rocks.” He’d go to the fridge, grab a couple beers and pull up a lawn chair on the back deck. At least he’d pull up a chair for me too.
    What a rush of excitement. So romantic.

    I remember when Gabriel took over the studio, not too long after I had worked my way up to a position as assistant engineer. ‘Slick-lick’ Terroni had almost run the funds into the ground with his drugs, booze and schmoozing all the bands’ leftovers. The business was in a shambles, but Gabriel’s expertise, not only as a producer/engineer, but also his ingenious business tactics saved the studio and then some. Fat Cat Studio Oasis became an even bigger rave of the Southwest music scene than ever before.
    After the first three months or so with Gabriel at the helm, he threw a big party for all his employees and the bands who he had worked with since taking over the business. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was actually about a year and a half ago. There were also some pretty big name indie record label execs and local music venue owners and managers there doing shots with us all. It was an excellent night to promote Jason’s band and rub elbows with a number of ‘fat cats’ in the music industry.
    Samantha, Gabriel’s wife was there too. That was the first night she and I had ever met. She was very sweet and sociable, not to mention beautiful. Her hair was so black it almost had a shimmer of purple. It hung in long, loose ringlets over her shoulders. Her face was innocent and youthful, like a porcelain doll’s. She was a couple years younger than me, though I looked younger than her. I always regretted my baby face. Not anymore.
    She was standing with a gentleman who appeared quite a few years older than both of us, but he was dressed like he was still a virile eighteen. His faded ripped up jeans hung half in and half out of his big black Doc Marten leather boots. His skinny chest was adorned with a Misfits concert t-shirt. Around his waist was a black leather belt with silver metal skull and cross-bone emblems all around it. Long salt and pepper dreads hung half way down his back. I could tell by the white knuckle grip he had on his tall, full glass of Jack and Coke that Jack was his pride and joy.
    “You must be Gabriel’s better half.” I said, as I approached Gabriel’s wife with a bottle of Merlot and refilled her almost empty wine glass.
    “That would be me,” she said, as she held out her glass to catch the scarlet waterfall. “You must be Sage, Gabe’s assistant. My name is Samantha.” She switched her wine glass to her left hand after it was full and reached out her right for an amiable introduction.
    We shook.
    “Nice to finally meet you. Gabriel raves about you and your son, Addison, all the time.”
    “He talks pretty highly of you as well. He says all the time how thankful he is to have an assistant who is as dedicated to the studio and as passionate about music as you are.” She smiled a big gleaming white smile, as she put her arm around the guy who was standing with her, and she said, “I’d like you to meet Chuck. He runs the sister music venue to the studio, The Oasis in Tempe, not far from ASU. Well, it’s the studio’s sister now that Gabriel has taken over.” She looked up at the six foot something punk rocker venue owner, welcoming him to chime in.
    “Hey, hey, pretty lady.” His voice was a baritone rumble. He didn’t opt for the cordial shaking of hands like Samantha did. No, instead he put his arms around me and gave me a death squeeze. I think it was just an excuse to feel my perky, half revealed breasts against him. “It’s a pleasure to meet Gabe’s right hand gal. Hey, anytime you want to perform at the Oasis, just give me a jingle and you’re on. Any night, any time, just name it.”
    He gave me a guy to guy shoulder slap of reassurance and support. I stumbled slightly and said, “Sweet, that’s great to know. Thanks so much. On that note, I’d love for you both to meet my husband.” I ushered Jason to my side, “This is Jason.” I turned to Jason once he had reached us and said, “This is Gabriel’s wife, Samantha, and Chuck. He owns and operates The Oasis over by ASU.”
    They all exchanged hand shakes. Jason was lucky to not receive the squeeze of death from Chuck, though Samantha did move in for a hug following their hand shake. Squeeze of death it was not; it was more like a prolonged ‘Damn you’re fine’ type of hug.
    I was used to women responding like that around Jason. It was hard to resist his charm and good looks. Nothing different than guys responding to me like Chuck did. A lot of our friends often joked about us being such an attractive couple that they wanted to watch us have sex. We were not into that. We always laughed off the remarks. It was all just harmless humor.
    “So, you own the Oasis, huh? I’ve seen some really sick bands play there. That’s a really fuckin’ sweet place you got.” Jason tipped his head back pouring the last of his Jack and Coke down his throat.
    “Jason doesn’t like to brag, but he plays lead guitar in a kick ass local band. You two may have heard of them, Dowry of Death. They haven’t had many recent shows, due to them working on getting their new tunes polished and ready to add to their set list.” I put my arm around Jason and hugged him in tight to my side. “I bet him and the boys would be more than willing to take you up on that offer of a show, Chuck. What do you say?” I tried to give Chuck the same powerful shoulder slap he gave me, though he didn’t stumble. I’m sure that was due to his six foot something body towering over my petite five foot two, hundred and five pound frame. Though he didn’t stumble, my gesture was powerful enough to spill his drink just a little.
    His laugh bellowed through the studio and all its party guests turned to see what was so funny. “J, that’s a feisty one who have on your hands there. Yeah, fuckin’ right I’ll book your band! If you have this pretty little spitfire, who also happens to be my best friend and business partner’s best tech., vouching for your band, you can name your night and your band’s booked.” He stared Jason down waiting for him to name a night to play.
    “Hey, thanks a lot, man. Let me get back to you about that, after this pretty little lady of mine and I go get refills on our drinks.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the lounge area. I already had the bottle of Merlot on the table beside where we were all talking. He was the only one who needed to go for a refill.
    “I’m all set on the refill, Babe.” I took another sip of my half full glass of wine, as he reached into the fridge for the Coke to mix with more Jack. “Isn’t that excellent? A show at The Oasis. The boys are going to be pumped! You guys haven’t been able to book a show there yet. This is a killer break for the band.” I was literally jumping up and down like a giddy school girl, spilling a little of my wine down between my cleavage and on my black camisole.
    He tore a couple paper towels off from the roll that was on top of the fridge and threw them at me. “Clean yourself up there, Yoko.” He grabbed the bottle of Jack, filled his glass to the very rim, and slammed the Jack bottle on the dark wooden coffee table.
    “What the hell? Yoko? What’s that supposed to mean? I thought you’d be just as psyched as I am.” I wiped the wine off my shirt and chest. “Hey, can you pass me the club soda from the fridge?”
    He passed the club soda and I dabbed it onto a fresh paper towel, giving my spill a better cleaning. I was glancing at Jason every chance I could, waiting for his reasoning for the Yoko comment.
    “First of all, I don’t need you getting gigs for my band. That job is for the actual members of the band to worry about. Second, we don’t need a gig right now. We’re trying to get some song writing done to spice up our set list with fresh new tunes before we book our next gig. If you had asked me before blurting out to Chuck to book us, you would have known that.” He took a haul off his almost over flowing glass of Jack and Coke and plopped down on the black leather sofa.
    There were only a couple of young local record store employees hanging in the far corner of the small lounge area where we were. They looked like they couldn’t believe they were even invited to such a shindig. I guess that’s why Jason felt comfortable laying into me with his harsh tone and arrogant attitude.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way. I was only trying to help. It’s been six months since your band’s last show, and you’ve never played The Oasis. It’s the best local music venue, and they only book the most well known local bands and even some national names play there now and then. It’s a great opportunity for you guys. I really think you should take advantage of this killer break.” I sat to the right of him on the sofa, and put my arm around him, rubbing his back with reassuring strokes.
    “You’re not our manager, nor do we need a manager. I’ll be damned if I will start relying on my wife to book shows for us.” He took another gulp off his drink and slammed the mug onto the Rosewood coffee table. He was sitting with his elbows propped on his knees and started poking his chest with his thumb when he went on to say, “When we are ready, we will get a gig for our band at The Oasis, or where ever else we see fit. Please, just stop trying to help us ‘make it.’” He stood abruptly, causing my hand to drop to the sofa from his back. He grabbed his drink and walked back out into the performance room with the majority of the guests.
    I had no idea where that had just come from. I was greatly perplexed at his response. I rose from the sofa a couple minutes after he walked out of the lounge. I downed the last of my glass of wine and refilled it with Jack and ice. I turned around from the fridge, and I had a clear view of the performance room through the huge glass window wall. Jason had found his way back to a sociable party mood by the looks of it. He was standing with Samantha, no Chuck, and was talking and laughing. I was thankful he didn’t bring his shit attitude I just witnessed out among Gabriel’s friends and business associates. At least Jason knew how to hold up appearances.

    On the ride home from the party that night I was cranking Bob Dylan. I was singing along, belting out “Outlaw Blues” when Jason shut the stereo off. I just looked at him, irritated, wondering what the fuck?
    “That fucking voice of his is just so damn annoying. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
    “What are you talking about? I thought you loved Dylan. You and the guys cover a few of his tunes.” I pulled out a joint I had left over from the party and lit up. I had a feeling I would need to lighten the mood.
    “Of course we play some Dylan; the crowd loves him. It doesn’t mean I love him. It’s all about the audience response, the image, our following.” He took a rip off the jib and passed it back to me.
    I took a big haul off that baby and said, “What the fuck? I guess ya’ learn something new everyday, and I just seem to be learning something new about you all the time. So where is this following you’re talking about?” I passed the joint.
    “Fuck you! Just because we don’t play out every other night or land gigs at The Oasis doesn’t mean we don’t have a following.” He took another hit and passed it back. Then he switched cds and cranked Lamb of God.
    I guess I said the wrong thing. That was the end of our conversation.
    No sex for me that night, just uncomfortable silence as we tossed and turned in bed.
    I always thought Jason was the one. Now, with glossed over eyes and an aching in my chest, I wondered, could I have been wrong?
    I woke up the next morning feeling very groggy and alone, even though I awoke next to Jason.

    That was the night I really knew I didn’t understand Jason anymore. He had always seemed like such a visionary, full of creative drive and ambition, all of which was a major determining factor for my decision to marry him. In the seven years we had been married his band hadn’t recorded a second cd, nor did they speak of any plans to. They still played out, but at most only a handful of times a year. Any time I ever tried to land them a show, he’d get pissed, turn it down and tell me to stop being a Yoko. I didn’t know what happened to the Jason I fell in love with. He was gone or at least distorted.
    At least he never acted out of sorts around Gabriel and Samantha. The four of us would get together every now and then for drinks and dinner. Jason always put on the charm around them. I was thankful for that. Gabriel was my boss; I didn’t want him to think my husband was a total dick.

    The last time we all met up for dinner and drinks at Maria’s Ristorante, Jason displayed his most charming conduct. He and Gabriel talked in depth about the tough recording process Gabriel had been going through with one of the well known local bands, who were notorious for their raunchy escapades and drug and alcohol addictions.
    “Dude, next time they show up for a session you should stand outside the locked studio door with a breathalyzer test. Don’t unlock the door unless they all pass,” Jason said with a snigger.
    Gabriel laughed and said, “Yeah, I definitely think it’s intervention time for those cats.”
    I chimed in with, “Jason knows all about interventions. He could prep you for that uncomfortable experience.” I patted Jason on the shoulder with a teasing smile.
    “Hey, that was not my drug problem. Don’t get the wrong idea. It was one of my boys.” He shot a look at Samantha with a hint of embarrassment.
    “Sure it was. We all know you’re a crack-head musician,” Samantha said. She tossed a piece of bread at him laughing. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and pass me the salad, junkie.”
    Jason’s laugh echoed through the restaurant. “Oh yeah, that’s me alright. You know me too well.” He gave her a sidelong glance and said, “Enough about drug addict musicians. Sam, how’s the novel coming?” He took a long haul off his Guinness, picked up her salad bowl and dished her out a serving.
    “I’ve been putting in long hours trying to work through the final chapter revisions,” she said as she passed him more garlic bread. “It’s been frustrating, but it will be worth it when it’s finished. Thanks so much for asking.”
    Jason held an intense stare, appearing engrossed in everything she had to say. They talked at length about her characters, the setting, the about-ness and the trouble she was having with tying in some of her choices for symbolism. They talked until their throats were dry and cracked.
    Jason hadn’t read a novel or short story since he was in high school, but I was thankful he brought Samantha’s work into the conversation. She wasn’t as into music as the rest of us. I think the change of conversation topic was his way of avoiding music talk with Gabriel. God forbid he was talked to about recording another cd or Gabriel getting his band into The Oasis to play.

    Besides Gabriel, Jules was the one I confided in about my concerns with my marriage.
    Our phone conversation the other day was when I finally let it all out.
    “I don’t think he’s in love with me anymore, Jules. I really don’t. He tells me he is, but, like Gabriel was saying...”
    “What do you really want to tell me?”
    “What do you mean? I just told you.”
    “Just say it, Sage. It’s not a dirty word. Well, it is, but at least it’s not illegal. Just say it.”
    “Divorce? Are you talking about me divorcing Jason?”
    “Well, that too, but no, that’s not the word I was going for. Affair was the word I was referring to.”
    “What? You think Jason’s having an affair?” I was frantic.
    “No! Absolutely not! I think you’re having an affair with your boss and you haven’t told me about it yet, you naughty girl.”
    “That’s crazy! I’m not having an affair with Gabriel,” I said with slight laughter behind my words.
    “Then why the nervous laughter? Sage, spill it.” Jules always knew how to get down to the real nitty-gritty.
    “Well, we have become a lot better friends over the past few months, and...”
    “Don’t dance around it, just spill.” Jules was ruthless.
    “There is no affair. I swear!”
    “You could have fooled me. You talk about him all the time. You bring up your troubles with Jason, and in the same sentence comes Gabriel’s name. I’m not stupid, Sage.”
    Jules always could see right through me. I spilled it all: my troubles with Jason, Gabriel’s troubles with Samantha, mine and Gabriel’s friendship growing closer, and my fantasies.
    “Every girl has fantasies, Sage, but yours go just a bit further than harmless fantasies. You need to do something about all of this, and soon, before you explode.”
    “But what? What am I supposed to do?”
    “You’ll know; when the time is right, you’ll know. Logic and reason fly out the window when love gets involved. Just follow your instincts and your heart.”

    The night sky above where Gabriel and I were lying appeared like a dark blanket sprinkled with glistening grains of sugar crystals. Sweetness surrounded us as we held each other. We were talking in almost whispering voices. When he spoke his warm breath on my moist skin made me quiver. I did not want that moment to ever end.
    But we could hear cars in the distance driving up the mountain. Once the later evening hours set in, Dobbins Ridge was a popular teen hang out.
    “Maybe we should get dressed and pack it up for tonight,” Gabriel suggested. “I don’t want us to get caught with our pants down, especially not by some drunk or stoned teens.” He laughed.
    I laughed.
    “As much as I don’t want to,” I said, “we probably should. I just wish...”
    “Me too,” was all he needed to say.
    A long, tight embrace and lips pressed together brought us to the desire for another romp. But the teenagers’ voices could now be heard beyond the rocks we were sheltered behind.
    We stopped, looked at each other with heavy sighs and laughed.
    “We really need to get dressed,” I said.
     He agreed.

    Gabriel carried the rolled up sandy, tribal print blanket under his left arm. He had his right arm around my shoulders. My arm was around his waist. We were walking along the stony path between the tall rocks which led back to the parking area. The voices of the partiers were getting louder and louder. We were just about to walk up over the last incline and around a huge boulder when we heard people talking and walking in our direction.
    Just as we rounded the towering rock, up over the little sandy knoll, another couple, arm and arm, blanket in hand, came around from the other side. They were walking away from the backdrop of the city lights, their faces heavily shaded.
    Gabriel whispered in my ear, “Looks like they have the same idea we had.”
    We both began to laugh. We each squeezed in tighter to each other. The couple was almost about to pass us along the path when their faces were partially illuminated.
    It was Samantha and Jason.
    For a brief moment we all made eye contact. It was quickly averted. We said nothing. They said nothing.
    The four of us kept walking.



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