Fiji

It was a cool early dawn. A soft breeze blew back the white voile curtain that shielded the sleeping area from the open vista of the white sand beach below, where gentle waves lapped like a throbbing pulse felt deep within a womb. It was a deck, wood floors and little furniture other a large low day bed strewn with flower petals on its fine white sheets.

They had fallen asleep out here last night, exhausted by sun and sex, loosened by fine champagne and intoxicated by the fragrant warm tropical night and the view from the elevated balcony of their bure on this private Fijian island with only eight such cottages. It was such a select location that no one saw anyone else except the silent staff available to fulfill any request at a moment's notice. Entry was by chartered helicopter and the resort did not feature in any holiday guide or website. If you did not know by word of mouth of its existence then you were not the calibre of guest they wished to attract.

Nick awoke with a start. He was lying on his front, his head buried into the perfumed locks of Zoe's beautiful hair. They were both lying naked, the sheets pushed back against the heat; the air conditioner did not reach this exposed deck. She was on her face, tucked in close to his body, deeply asleep. Gently he extricated his leg from where it was threaded between hers and raised himself to lie on one arm and watch her.

Her body was already more golden, no visible tan lines though. They had not dressed except for slinging on sarongs when meals were ordered. Apart from that, they had simply played on their private cove of beach, naked as if they were the only two people in the world, swimming, snorkeling, taking out the boat, sunbathing, lying on the fine white shore making love until they were so full of sand that they had to run into the crystal water to wash each other off. They barely took their hands from each other's bodies, holding hands or wrapped around the other night and day. It had been an idyllic period that seemed like a soporific extended dreamtime and not at all like actual life.

He picked up a single flower stem from the remains of the bouquet he had strewn over the sheets the night before and drew the white bloom decadently down the curve of her perfect back, along her spine and tracing the sweet curve of her tiny, shapely buttocks. She seemed like a flower herself, fragile satin skin sprinkled with dew, pure and unsullied, lying there for him and no one else. His heart jolted in his chest, so intense was his emotional reaction to her. He had never felt like this about anyone or anything in his life before.

Zoe stirred, subliminally disturbed by the gentle brush of the petals on her skin. He thought of her naked sex, like the flower itself, whorls of delicate flesh, pale pink and exquisitely formed, hiding the tiny pearl of her clitoris and the deep gash of her vagina. The image of burying himself in the heart of a fragrant rose crossed before his eyes. He wanted her and momentarily thought of easing himself between those slender thighs and waking her up with pleasure - but he changed his mind, even though he was already hard at the erotic images crowding in his sexually-charged brain.

He didn't want to disturb her rest, preferring to simply watch over her and enjoy the rare joy of this new emotion of love that he was finding so incredible and hypnotic. For half an hour or more as the dawn crept across the sky streaking the mauve clouds of night with rose-pink, he lay and luxuriated in her presence in his bed and in his life.

It was four days since he had knocked on her apartment door and they had found each other again. Four days that had changed his life and shaken him to the very core. From the first time their lips had met, everything had become a blur of sensation, as if every feeling he had denied himself or rejected down the years, every good emotion and simple pleasure, each innocent longing and crazy gesture of love had swamped over him until he was on an overload and his brain could no longer even try to compute what was happening to him.

The sex had been wild and uncontrollable, spilling into everything they did, spontaneous and natural, as if they were both trying to climb inside the other's soul even as they ravished each other's bodies. He'd had enough sex to know that this was not motivated by lust or any drive he had ever experienced before. This was elemental, both selfish and selfless, full of need and fragile truths, born from their desire to give the other everything they were.

Was this love? Perhaps it was. Then what had he been doing all these years? Had he never really known what sex was about before? Had his sensual life so far been just one long extended masturbatory ride where he had used others to enjoy himself?

For he felt with Zoe that he didn't care if he ever came again as long as he was able to give her pleasure His needs were irrelevant. How she made him feel was secondary in the love they made. But seeing her beautiful body arch into him and hear her cry out his name with joy were the moments he cherished.  It was the only thing he cared about. To pleasure her. To look after her. To give her everything. To keep her by his side. To wake up to her smile every day of his life from now on.

Climbing from the bed, he wandered into the native-inspired bathroom where the wooden floors opened out onto the beach. The toilet was couched in a cubicle shielded by a wall of woven rattan but the shower was suspended from the thatched roof and the deep rock pool bath looked out over the sea. He took a lungful of morning and felt purity and freedom flood through his body. For the first time in his life he felt at peace.

Stepping into the cold interior of the luxury bedroom inside, he pulled on a pair of shorts and slipped on some running shoes. He had energy to expend, a desire to run and run to calm down this burst of passionate emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. As an afterthought he picked up his I-Pod and clipped it to his shorts as he left the bure and jogged down the wooden steps to the beach below.

Running hard he worked up a sweat until he was perspiring freely and then he eased down. He changed the track from the pounding rock he had used to set his pace to something softer and on came the tracks he had uploaded from the tape Liam Thorne had give him. He had listened to the album a few times and had already been surprised by the effect it had had on him. The guitar strummed the laid back, dreamy intro bars. The boy could write lyrics, the melodies were alluring and ran over and over through his head.  Liam had a husky, unusual and plaintive voice that was easy on the ear and touched somewhere in your soul.

Beautiful dawn - lights up the shore for me.
There is nothing else in the world,
I'd rather wake up and see (with you).
Beautiful dawn - I'm just chasing time again.
Thought I would die a lonely man, in endless night.
But now I'm high; running wild among all the stars above.
Sometimes it's hard to believe you remember me.

It seemed that every word was written with his life in mind. How did this kid understand emotions like this? He was barely out of his teens and he seemed to know what love felt like already and how a man is changed forever by what the right woman can do for him. Was Liam just incredibly perceptive or was he himself, as Terry has said, suffering from arrested development? But whatever it was, the song touched his soul as he wandered along the early morning beach picking at shells and tossing stranded starfish back into the water like the kid he had once been, beachcombing at Fremantle all those years ago.

Nick stared up at that beautiful dawn sky and he knew that it would always be her he saw when the sun rose for the rest of his life. The very absurdity of the romantic notion in the mind of a jaded and brutalized man such as himself made him smile. He felt foolish even to himself but loved the idea that he could still be as sappy as some love sick girl.

Beautiful dawn - melt with the stars again.
Do you remember the day when my journey began?
Will you remember the end (of time)?
Beautiful dawn - You're just blowing my mind again.
Thought I was born to endless night, until you shine.
High; running wild among all the stars above.
Sometimes it's hard to believe you remember me.

He raised his arms out in salutation to the sun. Everything was different now. He would be a different man. He would change his lifestyle. No more drugs and orgies. No more grueling contracts taking him into the edgy, corrupt, brutal world he had been inhabiting. Some other bastard could take the baton now. He had done his bit.

Nick had no idea what he was going to do with his life from now other than devote it to making her happy. There was plenty of money until he could find something safer, something that would keep him closer to home, a job he could admit to her proudly was what he did for them both. And maybe one day she would marry him? They'd have kids? Wouldn't that be something?

Will you be my shoulder when I'm grey and older?
Promise me tomorrow starts with you,
Getting high; running wild among all the stars above.
Sometimes it's hard to believe you remember me

Looking back at the wooden cottage on the cliff, knowing she was there asleep waiting for him, he smiled and began the run back. As he drew nearer, he saw her standing by the curtains, hair tumbling down, the voile curtain shadowing her nakedness as she stared out looking for him. He raised a hand, laughed when he saw it was the hand, ungloved as it had been most of the time since they got here. It meant nothing to her. She loved him. Every part of him. The things he had lost and the things he had gained. His flaws as well as his talents. The good as well as the bad. The beauty with the ugliness. She smiled and waved back, calling something he couldn't quite hear.

Nick raised his speed to a sprint. He just wanted to get back home.

"There was something I wanted to talk to you about, Dad." Terry glanced up from the newspaper he was reading and steeled himself for the announcement. He kept his face impassive, without any sign of disapproval or resistance. Never close down on someone trying to confide. They will simply become defensive and will not open up sufficiently. It's pointless to make the job harder than it needs to be.

Terry mentally shook himself at his instinctive application of his professional skills on his own son but it did not change his approach. From past experience he knew that negotiating with Liam was usually one of the toughest jobs he had ever taken on.

"Go ahead, mate. What's up?" He shot a look over at Annie who was watching them from the sofa across the room where she had curled up earlier with a book and a cup of coffee. She gave him the look and he shook his head slightly to warn her off. Annie had a tendency to scream first then think later where her darling son was concerned. He saw her roll her eyes but let him take the lead.

"Well..." Liam was extremely uncomfortable, his eyes blinking rapidly and unable to look at either of his parents. He kept running his hands up and down his thighs and changing his position in the seat, opening his mouth as if to speak and then closing it again. He then ran his hands through his hair and threw himself back against the headrest in frustration. ""...You're not gonna like this...!"

"Just tell us. From the top..."Terry suggested.

Liam looked over at his father. "It's about my career..."

Both of them breathed an inner sigh of relief. This seemed almost tame compared to the possible issues he could have been dropping on him.

"Go on...."

He winced but, to be fair, carried straight on. "I...I...know what I want to do with my life. It's a bit unconventional, and I know this is not what you expect, but I'm going to just spit it right out... I want to go into music."

There was a silence in the room while both his parents tried to work out what he meant. Terry spoke first. "Music? What does that mean? It's a pretty wide field. You got a job playing piano in a bar or something?"

Liam was a talented musician and had been enthusiastic right through school. He was a good pianist but once he had discovered the guitar and the saxophone he had rarely touched the piano again. But it had all just been a hobby. His degree was Mathematics. This was coming right out of left field.

"No."

"Session musician?"

"No."

"You got a band together?"

"Not really."

"Recital at the Royal Opera House?" Annie threw in sarcastically. Terry flashed her a sharp look. She pouted but shut up.

Liam looked pained. "I want to write and sing my own songs. You know, singer song writer. About life and my philosophy and men and women..."

Terry ran his hands down his face and stifled a groan. "...Of which you have so much experience, of course? I'm sure there is so much you could teach a waiting world, Liam...For Christ's sake, wise up. Is this some vague notion or have you made any inroads? Got an agent? Contract? Record deal?  Or even a spot at some dead beat folk club? Jesus, Liam, this is your plan for the future? How exactly do you anticipate starting?"

Liam immediately pulled his mouth in that stubborn expression so reminiscent of his father. Annie saw the change in her son and wondered if Terry was going to mess this up. Normally she went with him but Liam had a way of pushing his father's buttons like no one else - except perhaps she herself.

"I've made some tapes. I'm planning to start approaching the record companies... "

"And whilst you are doing this, what do you intend to live on?" Terry asked in a deceptively quiet voice. Annie detected a high level of annoyance.

Liam shrugged. "Well, I presumed you'd still be giving me an allowance...and I can work. Casual work. Waiting tables. Bars. Maybe a few gigs. Bit of modeling while I'm waiting for things to happen..."

"Things to happen? What colour is the sky in your world, mate?" His father was almost too angry to continue. "You have a good degree. You are a bright and talented young man. Use your brains. Get a real job. Play guitar for fun. Write your songs. You can still hawk them round if you must but at least you'll have a decent living..."

"...I don't mind struggling for awhile..."

"Struggling?" Terry's voice was suddenly loud. "Struggling? With a bloody allowance from your Dad? Mate, that's really noble of you..."

"You going to pull my allowance? Go ahead. I can still get by. There are lots of ways to earn money..."

"...Yeah there are, mate. None of which you have the slightest notion about. Furthermore I doubt if most of them a spoilt little prick like you would even consider..."

Annie drew a sharp intake of breath at that remark; even Terry winced at his own belligerent comment. It had been knee jerk and he knew it would just put Liam's back up. He was surprised exactly how much.

"Spoilt? Hey, mate, you brought me up. I don't want your fucking money! I was trying to show you some respect here, man, but, hey, if you don't want it that's fine with me..." Liam stood up and stormed across the room before turning back and pinning his father in his sights, pointing his finger accusingly. "You get on my fucking tits..."

"...Watch your language in front of your mother...!"

"Why? Like she's never heard you swear? You're just a fucking hypocrite!"

"Liam...Stop that!" Annie chided, hoping this reminder of her presence would defuse them both. "Keep your temper. Let's talk like rational adults...!"

The two men stared each other out for tense seconds. 

"So you want to pursue a musical career? Okay. Let's see some action plan. I want to see you knocking on doors and not just coasting. Come on, Liam, you must know the pitfalls. I suppose you see platinum sales and the good life beckoning but for every celebrity pop star there are thousands of broken dreams..." Annie began.

"Pop star?" Liam sneered. "You think I'm talking about some boy band, flashing my groin at pre-pubescent girls?  Jesus Christ!"

Annie bridled. "Then enlighten us. How do we know what you have in mind?"

Terry tried again. "What's the harm in getting a job in the meantime, in case it doesn't work? Hedge your bets? Is that too much to ask?"

"I'm not selling out. I want to stay focused."

Terry bit his tongue. Focused? "A lot of people in this world would like to stay focused on their hobby and not have to bother about the day job but I'm afraid life isn't quite like that, mate. Some might say you were dropping out. Ever wondered if you're really scared if you'll make the cut against all the other guys? Or is it easier to stand back and pretend you're too bloody pure to soil your lily white hands?"

It had started out as an attempt at compromise and ended up as a taunt. He knew it was a disastrous comment to make the moment it had come out of his mouth. But it was too late then. How come you can forget the professional acumen gained over a lifetime of dealing with intractable problems and people when faced with your own twenty-one year old son?

Liam sniggered. It was a nervous laugh but fuelled by real anger. "You think you're such a fucking hard man, don't you? No one had it as bad as you? No one else is gifted with your formidable skills, eh? Well, let me tell you something for nothing...Dad...you know what I did after I finished Uni? Before I went to Italy?"

Terry remained impassive and let him rant. "So tell me what you did, Liam..."

Liam laughed. "I went to Credenhill."

"You did what?" Terry burst out. Annie looked confused.

"I applied for entry to the SAS. Did their selection tests. Got through the prelims with flying colours and then they called me up for the endurance and survival courses..."

"And?" Terry asked sardonically.

Liam gave him a smug smile. "They accepted me. Officer training."

"You use your own surname?" Terry snapped. 

"No. I applied as Liam Patrick. So this was not me riding on your fucking coat tails, mate. Top of the applicants. Got a special pat on the back from some stuffed shirt major. Good man....looking forward to seeing you, Patrick...you're the sort we're looking for....all that fucking stiff upper lip crap!"

"What's the point of all this, Liam? So you passed the recruitment stage. Why did you do that? I'm not following your reasoning..."

"...I did it so I could tell them to stick it up their fucking rigid Pommie arses! And I did. They wrote and gave me a call up date. I wrote back. 'Stick it up your fucking arse, you right wing fascist bastard. By the way my real surname's Thorne. Son of the legendary Terrence. Your intel's crap, by the way...'"

"You little bastard! What was the point of that?" Terry stood up and faced him, angry now and way past being bothered whether or not it was wise.

Liam strutted in that arrogant swagger of young men. "The point? The point was this..." and he walked up close to his father and looked him straight in the eye. The point is, mate...I could. If I wanted to. Do it all. I've got the brains and the talent and the bollocks. But I've got something you never had. I can see right through it. I wouldn't salute to anyone or anything. March in any band. Take orders from blinkered supremacists masquerading as the force of law and fucking order...?"

"That's enough, Liam!" Annie ran up and stood between them. She recognized Terry's smouldering anger and was afraid he might actually hit his son if it went much further. It would be a first - but even so the provocation was enough to make it a possibility.

Terry pushed her away. "Sit down. Keep out of this!" he barked. She staggered back and stood watching as they continued to stare at each other. Then Terry shook himself, almost imperceptibly, and backed off. "All that does is show yourself up. It was an immature and disrespectful thing to do. I'm ashamed of you. I thought you had more about you than that..."

"...I'm going to do what I want with my life. If you don't like it then keep the fuck away from me...!" was Liam's only response. Annie knew he didn't mean it. But she saw the reaction in Terry's eyes at the cruel jibe; he jerked as if he had been punched. It made her angry. Angrier than she had been in a long time. What had Terry ever done to deserve this?

"Do it, then. Live it your own way. I did. You won the right. Just be grateful you don't have my father..." Terry turned away from him in disgust.

Liam threw him a baleful look. "...Actually I fucking do..." And he lurched out of the room, snatched up his leather jacket and left the suite, slamming the door behind him loudly.

Annie walked over to Terry but he shrugged her away, reaching for a bottle and pouring himself a stiff shot. "He doesn't mean it, Terry. He's just a kid. That was a tantrum. He got all worked up about telling us and then..."

"...If the story about Credenhill is true then that was premeditated. Has this been going on a long time? Where did this thing come from? It's like he thinks I'm trying to ruin his life. Where did he get this idea he's in competition with me? Do I make him feel like that? Do I?"

She flopped down in the chair and put her head in her hands. "He's a boy. Well, a young man. You don't have to do anything to make him feel like that. You're just his father. The man he respects most but also the one he judges himself by. It's complicated. He's finding himself...."

"Yeah...well, thanks a bloody lot, Liam. Twenty one years I do everything I can for him and this is the reward? Jesus, Annie, I thought I got it right this time. Harry never gave me this much problem and I was a shitty father to him..."

"You were not a shitty father! You were just not there. Easy for him to see you as the romantic macho hero. I bet Michael did the hard work there...you know he did! Penny, too, took on a lot...He does love you, Terry, and we just have to ride this...."

He drained the glass. "I'm going out. Need some air. Do you mind?"

"Let me come with you. We'll take a walk. Go have a drink somewhere..."

"...I want to be on my own. Christ, Annie, give me a break. I just want to gather my thoughts. I don't need you as a baby minder. I'm not going after him nor am I about to do something foolish...I'm just going out. OK?"

At that he picked up his wallet and phone and simply walked out. She sat alone in the empty suite, staring at the wall. So much for Happy Families.

They lounged around the breakfast table laid outside and ate exotic fruits, drank fresh pineapple juice and excellent coffee while tucking into an array of pastries. Nick watched Zoe eat and sipped at his own black coffee.

"You're gonna get fat," he warned her.

"And you should eat more fruit. Come on...get this down you..." She fed him chunks of papaya and mango and he ate obediently.

"All this healthy crap is gonna kill me," he laughed. 

She shook her head at him and helped herself to more croissant. "I never put on weight. I'm like my Mum. I can eat what I like...bugger...!" she jumped up from the table and stumbled over to the bathroom walking with her legs open in a very ungainly style.

He grinned. "What's up?"

She shouted from inside. "Another gush of spunk. Jesus, Nick, you must make it by the litre....it's so gunky afterwards..."

"...Do you mind? I'm eating!" he exclaimed in mock horror. "Want to go back to rubbers then?"

She screeched. "NO! I hate those bloody things...just let me mop up...thank God for bidets..."

She breezed back in and sat back down. "So where we were? Oh yeah...what do you normally make for breakfast then?"

He grinned. "Nothing. Eat out."

"Every meal? Surely you keep something in the fridge?"

Nick shrugged and helped himself to a chocolate croissant. He was hungry. "Beer, champagne, ice...the occasional sex toy that works best cold..." He waggled his eyebrows at her and she giggled.

"That beautiful kitchen and you never cook in it? Have you ever used it? Or did you just leave it to various girlfriends to cook for you?"

He shook his head and helped himself to more coffee, freshening her cup. "No. I never dated girls who cooked. Not sure I've actually dated a woman in that sense in years."

"Then what do you do with the girls you bring home? Or do I really want to know?"

"Fuck 'em. What else? Hey....I didn't mean you, Zoe...that was different..." he added, wincing at the crudeness of his retort.

She smiled knowingly. "Actually it wasn't, buster. Not that first night. That's all either of us wanted. A dirty night of sin and sex. And we got it..." she fixed him a seductive stare across the table. He licked his lips sensuously and lolled back in his chair, slipping his bare foot along her leg under the loose white linen dress she had on.

"You naked?"

She just smiled and rubbed her crotch against his sole. She was. "I'm sore though. Think we need to take a break."

"Then it's time to investigate the other beautiful apertures God gave you, sweetheart..." he muttered. Zoe pulled back from him slightly.

"I'm not sure...I never did that sort of thing before, Nick..."

Nick blew her a kiss. "Whatever you want. But I can make it good. Don't be scared. It won't hurt when I do it...you just have to take your time...but I have to say, morning is not a good time...you know what I mean? Especially after all that fruit...You been yet?" he snorted and took a swig of his coffee.

Zoe opened her mouth in shock. "How dare you! You are so crude...I am not going to share that piece of information with you!" She threw the tail end of her croissant at him.

"Please yourself, but let me know when you have...then I shall take you on a little journey of discovery that you will enjoy, kid..."

She took a deep breath and relaxed, letting it out gently. "I don't know... maybe... God, you know I will...I can refuse you nothing...nothing seems wrong with you...even when I know you are being very, very bad..." She gave him an intense look.

He stood up and went around to her side of the table and gently eased her into his arms. "I promise I will never hurt you. Never let you down. Can you trust me, Zoe? Really trust me? Do you believe in me?"

This was the nearest either of them had come to admitting just how deep there emotional bond had become in a mere handful of days. She blushed a little and hid her face against his bristly cheek: he tilted her chin to bring her back eye-to-eye with him. "I need an answer, princess..."

Her Dad always called her that. It was a silly baby name in one sense but it had always made her feel safe. Cherished. Adored. Nick's unconscious use of the old endearment was uncannily appropriate although he had no way of knowing that. It was just a common enough term for a girl back home. But then for Nick to lapse into some long forgotten innocent patter that he had heard as a young boy out of the mouths of other men to women they loved, was telling in itself.

"I will always trust you, Nick. We've come too far for me not to know that this is something very special and new for both of us. I'll go anywhere with you, Nick. Anywhere. Do anything..."

His lips, tasting of sweet chocolate and bitter coffee, pressed in on hers as they kissed. He ran his hands down and pushed her slender body against his own; she slipped her hands around his neck and hugged him close. Another perfect morning awaited in their own secret paradise.

"You play?" The scruffy guy on the guitar leaned over to take a drink and addressed the young man sitting at the side of the small stage in the club. It was an indie music venue, well known for new acts and fledgling performers to cut their teeth. He had been addressing a young man, slumped into a corner drinking Tequila in a way that showed he wasn't doing it for fun. He'd noticed the kid earlier and noted his intense concentration on the music. Something told him he was a musician, too.

"Yeah," Liam answered grudgingly.

The guy held out his guitar. "I'm due for a break. Name's Mig. If you want to have a go, man...it's yours for fifteen..."

Liam smiled and picked up the guitar, fingering it lovingly. "Liam. Don't mind if I do. Just give me a shout if I suck..."

Mig grinned. "They'll soon let you know, man. They don't suffer fools..." He indicated the audience who, while hardly listening enraptured, were not the types to tolerate the fumblings of an amateur. This was no Karaoke bar.

He took his place on the stool in the spotlight and closed his eyes as he strummed a few chords and made a few adjustments. A few people looked up, mildly interested. A young woman at the bar gave him a long, steady appraisal. Liam noticed her as he glanced around before singing. He didn't introduce his song. Tonight he wasn't in a mood for playing to the crowd.

He began the gentle acoustic opening bars of one of his more melancholic songs; it suited his mood, wallowing in his own misery. But the peaceful, haunting sound seemed to lull the listeners. They all looked towards him and he suddenly felt that moment when he knew he had the audience in the palm of his hand. His mood quickly altered and he slipped into the role of performer as if by instinct.

How I wish I could surrender my soul;
Shed the clothes that become my skin;
See the liar that burns within my needing.
How I wish I'd chosen darkness from cold.
How I wish I had screamed out loud,
Instead I've found no meaning.

I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.
It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.

He heard the unmistakable tinkle of the keyboard and glanced round. The girl from over at the bar was now playing along with him, picking up the accompaniment. She was good, a natural, with a great ear and sense of musicality. He smiled over and let the improvised moment lead him where he needed to go. At the chorus, she supplied a high harmony in a sweet soft soprano, so quiet that it was merely a whisper. They sang the refrain of Ahhhhs at the end to each other, smiling with shared pleasure in the discovery of this connection through song

How I wish I could walk through the doors of my mind;
Hold memory close at hand,
Help me understand the years.
How I wish I could choose between Heaven and Hell.
How I wish I would save my soul.
I'm so cold from fear.

I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.
Far, far away; find comfort in pain.
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.
Ah, ah, ah, ah....

The song ended and the chords died away, along with the cry of his refrain. The spell was broken; the audience had liked it but their applause was muted. They were impressed but not given to trite overplaying or gushing. The guy could sing. So what?

Mig raised his beer from the bar in salute. Liam set down the guitar and strolled over to the girl at the keyboard. "That was great."

"Yeah. Like the song. Your own?"

Liam nodded.

"Painful. You got some shit on your back?"

He shrugged. "Who doesn't? You play here?"

"Few nights a week. Helps pay the bills."

"Student?"

She nodded. "Grad student. Music. You?"

"Just bumming about."

"You're too good for that. Mig would give you a spot here. In a heartbeat."

"You with him?"

She shook her head. "My name's Cally."

"Liam..."

"You look lonely tonight, honey..." He turned his head slowly, already knowing what he would see. 

"That so?" Terry looked into the eyes of the woman who had perched on the barstool next to him. She was heavily made up and scantily dressed. Beneath it all he imagined she was pretty young, not that it mattered. Age was a relative thing. Some lives move in double time.

The girl reached out and traced her finger down his nose and round his lips. "You got a strong face. I read faces. You can tell a lot about a person from their face..."

Terry tempered the sarcastic comment that threatened. "Only in So Cal, hey? Even the whores have a sideline in psychology..."

The girl pouted. "I'm not a whore."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow. "Then what's a little girl like you talking to a guy she doesn't know who is old enough to be her father in a deadbeat bar?"

She grinned. "Okay...I do fuck for money. But I don't like that word. It's very dismissive of what I do. Everybody fucks for money. I just do it with men I don't happen to know."

He laughed. That was one way of putting it. "A great service to the community, darlin'. But I'm not buying tonight..."

She didn't move away. "Not even a drink?"

He called the barmaid over holding up, his empty glass. "Gimme another and whatever she wants..."

"Jim Beam and Coke..." The girl asked and then looked across at him. "You look like a nice guy. What brought you down here tonight? You don't look like you normally hang in dives like this."

"You'd be surprised," he muttered and sank his Scotch, calling for another and lighting a cigarette, offering her one. She took it.

"That mean you got a taste for the wild side?" she cooed as he struck a match and held it for her to dip down and catch a light. She slid her leg along his, resting her hand on his thigh and massaging sensuously.

"No, it means I've lived a lot longer than you," he replied as he removed her hand and wrapped it round her glass instead. That's all I paid for, sweetheart. Don't give it away for free..."

She sighed. "You're the best thing on offer tonight. I'd really like you to. I bet you're real hot in bed. I bet you've got a real big cock..."

He smiled. "Sure am. Sure have. But I'm still not buying. I've got a daughter about your age..."

"So? I'm not your daughter...unless you want me to pretend to be...?" She gave him a coy glance that was fake and trite.

At that Terry bridled. "Piss off, love. This is not the night to wind me up. You might just get a shock..."

His manner had changed in an instant and the girl backed away in surprise at the force of his anger. "Hey, mister, I was just trying to earn a crust here...!"

He turned back to his drink and ignored her, resting his elbows on the bar top and joining his hands as if in thought. She threw back her drink and jumped off the stool. "Can't get it up? That your problem?" He still ignored her. "Motherfucker...!" she jeered and strolled out with a sway of her hips.

"You sure annoyed her, pal," the barmaid grinned over. Terry grinned back and asked her for another shot. "You sure? You been hanging one on tonight..."

"I can hold it." He waved his glass at her and she gave him another.

It was quiet now in the bar, late night. The girl pulled up a stool on the other side of the counter and settled down. "Wanna talk about it?"

He gave her a sideways stare. "I didn't see the sign. Church of All Sinners..."

She gave him another warm grin. "My name's Leila. What's yours?"

"Terry."

"You need to offload, the offer's there, Terry..." she went to stand up. He reached out and rested a hand on her arm. 

"Buy yourself a drink on me. Leila..." She grabbed a long neck and hit the cap, taking a long drink. 

He looked at her in the tight black V-necked top, tracing the line of her cleavage with his eyes and mentally cupping the fall of her large breasts. He swallowed and let the sensation of arousal flood through him, just enough to feel pleasant, not enough to make him hard. But the notion of playing with danger tripped a wire in his circuits somewhere. Leila was an attractive girl, short dark hair, messy style, pleasant face, big brown eyes, nose a little crooked, mouth a little too wide. She was skinny and her flat belly was muscled like she worked out. Her legs were long and thin, clad in tight jeans. He imagined the tiny butt beneath those low slung jeans and her tight, wet cunt. She would be wild in bed. He knew the type, smart and sassy until you pushed the right buttons and then she would be putty in your hands.

"So...cheers...!" She clinked his glass and settled back down observing him. "You were going to tell me...What's a handsome guy like you doing in this joint...?"

"Actually I wasn't..."Terry answered with a wry smile. "But I will...I fought with my son. It's no big deal. Just life. Kids. What you get for being a bastard yourself all those years ago..."

"How old is he?"

"Twenty-one."

"As fine as you?"

Terry looked up at her and tilted his head to one side, his tongue lolling out playfully. "You making a hit on me, sweetheart?"

She hunched her shoulders. "Not much else in here worth hitting on tonight."

He gave her that one. "I just blew off the little hooker..."

"I'm not a hooker. I wasn't planning on charging," she flashed her eyes at him. The offer was on the table.

"I'm married."

"I know. Saw the ring. But if you're here tonight and not getting some TLC from your wife then what does that tell me...?"

He frowned. She had hit close to home in a place he didn't normally let anyone else near. "Sometimes a bloke just needs a little fresh air..."

"In here?" She laughed at the smoky atmosphere. "Know what you mean, though. Claustrophobia. She taking his side?"

He shook his head. "She always bats for me." His soft smile said it all. Leila knew then she wouldn't be leaving with him tonight. "...But I couldn't handle her pain tonight. Shitty thing to do, hey? Walk out so she couldn't spend her night tending to my wounds in case I just had to tend to hers as well..."

"I doubt that's what this is about. Maybe you need to think on what your boy said on your own for while. Maybe he's right. Maybe you're not ready for her to forgive you yet...?"

She was so intuitive. He wondered where that came from. Just an inspired guess or did some people read life so much better than others? "You're a smart girl. How many Hail Mary's you want me to say?"

She looked puzzled. His comment had gone over her head. 

"Never mind. Thanks for the company - and the absolution. What do I owe?" he pulled out his wallet as he stood up. She gave him the check.

"I was going to offer absolution. At my place later. We could have made it so good..."

"I know. I already had it, baby. In my head and it was fine..." he winked at her, placing a large note down and refusing change.

"It didn't come with a charge..."Leila observed with a hint of annoyance that he seemed to be paying her off.

"I know. But, sometimes a guy likes to pay for not getting laid. You saved me from making a big mistake tonight, love."

"...Send your son in one night. I might make him see some sense about his Daddy..."

Terry laughed. "My son wouldn't waste his time talking about me if he met a lady like you. He'd get his own absolution his way."

"...And that's why he's just a dumb kid and why I'd probably have slapped his face..."

They both smiled and he raised a hand in farewell as he walked out. A cab took him back to the upscale hotel and he strode through the plush, silent lobby to the elevators. At his floor, he mentally steeled himself for what he might find: Annie waiting up, tearful and accusatory, Liam belligerent and drunk.

He needn't have worried. The suite was in darkness. Pushing open the door to his son's room he saw the empty bed and the usual mess he created wherever he lived. There wasn't much hope he'd find his way back tonight though. Terry knew where Liam would be. In some girl's bed. What else does a man do when he's hurting but find oblivion in the arms of a woman?

He stripped off his clothes and threw them on a chair in his room. Using the bathroom, he eased in next to Annie a few minutes later, trying not to wake her; she appeared to be fast asleep. For a while he lay on his back staring into the darkness, the days events blurring into a slide show interspersed with vague erotic thoughts of young over-made up hookers and a woman with short black hair and deep brown eyes...

Her hand crept down his body and stroked his cock tenderly; he was already half way there just on fantasy alone. Wordlessly he rolled her over and buried his head against her breast, slipping one from the confines of the delicate satin negligee and suckling roughly. She wrapped her legs around him and he sank deep inside. Neither of them spoke. She didn't come; she didn't want to. He needed something just for himself tonight, she knew that.

Terry closed his eyes and let himself get there in a shuddering burst, groaning against her as she held him tight and stroked a hand through his hair. Oblivion in a woman beats absolution any day. Oblivion means you don't have to say you're sorry.