Song Chaser (Chasers) (7 page)

I laugh, “Trust me, I know. I’m kind of ashamed that I haven’t been to more concerts since I’ve been here. I was just scared, I guess.” I wrap my arms around myself to shield my skin from the cool breeze that’s rolling in off the top of the buildings.

“Scared?” Tanner asks, but I almost don’t hear him because he’s pulled his NYU t-shirt up and over his head and is now dressed in nothing but a tight white under tank. “Why were you scared? Here, put this on,” he tosses me his shirt and I slip it on. I’m immediately engulfed in his scent – a mix
of cinnamon, earth, and whiskey.

“I don’t know, because of my mom, I guess,” I sigh, tucking my arms inside Tanner’s shirt. Tanner throws me his sexy half smile before pulling my back to his chest and wrapping his arms around me. The warmth spreads from his muscular arms through my chest and straight down below my navel. I try to calm my heartbeat down, but damn if it doesn’t threaten to beat right out of my fucking chest.

“Are you nervous?” Tanner whispers in my ear, sending chills racing down the back of my neck.

“No,” I lie, but I can barely even breathe the word. Tanner smiles against the skin on my neck and plants two soft kisses below my ear.

“Just checking,” he says between kisses. “You feel a little nervous.”

I elbow him playfully and he wraps his arms around me tighter, “You’re an ass.”

“So I’ve been told. But my ass aside, what does your mom have to do with you not going to a concert?”

I bite my lip nervously. I really don’t want to get into this with him, but then again I do ask him to tell me everything there is to know about his shit with Florida girl.
I guess in a way, I kind of owe him. “My mom was kind of a, how do I say this,” I pause for effect. “Selfish bitch. Yeah, those are the words. And basically, everyone tells me that I’m so much like her, like that they can see her in me and that I act just like her.” I sigh, still uneasy. “Well, my dad has always had a plan for me to stay in Osage and work the family business with him.”

“Family business?” Tanner asks, intrigued.

“Yep. Brooks’ Maple Syrup Farm. Founded by my great grandfather and carried on through my dad’s family line,” I laugh and shake my head a little. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

Tanner laughs, too. “No, it’s not ridiculous. Do you wear traditional country stuff when you farm syrup? I would die to see you in some daisy dukes,” Tanner squeezes my hips and I elbow him again.

“ANYWAY,” I continue. “I’ve always wanted to go to college, to major in something where I could get out of Osage. The small-town, everyone-in-your-business shit just isn’t for me. I wanted to major in music education, but I knew that would never fly with Dad, so I figured maybe if I chose something business-y I could get him to let me go.” I think back to applying to the different colleges in secret, hiding packets in a shoe box under my bed. Sometimes I wish I could have had my dad helping me through the process instead of feeling like he would be ashamed of me for it.

I shake my head and continue.

“After waiting two years after high school, working for the family company and watching everyone I graduated with sit around that town and do nothing, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to live my own life. I told my dad I was leaving and with nothing but a few summers of savings and some money from my Mee Ma, I caught the first train out of town. Other than holidays, I never go back. The city is my home, now.”

I look down and kick the rocks and grass beneath us, still feeling a small pang of guilt from leaving my family. “
My brother and Mee Ma stayed back with my dad to run the business, but I think he saw me leaving as doing the same thing my mom did. I call home all the time and talk to my brother and Mee Ma, but my dad won’t say more than a few words to me. So, I’ve always wanted to prove him wrong about me. I’ve taken college and my time here in the city seriously. I work and I go to school, and that’s it. I just don’t want him to think that I’m like her, that I ran out just to go to concerts and parties and get away from the country. Or from him.”

My voice starts to shake a little as I finish and I want to kick myself for being so lame. Tanner grabs my hips and turns me around to face him, pushing my back against the railing and leaning in to me. He presses his forehead to mine and I breathe him in, “Just because your mom fucked up doesn’t mean you can’t live your life and have fun doing it. Your dad may not get it right now, but one day he’ll wake up and realize that his daughter made the best decision of her life following her dreams. And he’ll be proud of you.” He pauses for a minute before adding, “I mean if anything, he’ll be damn impressed that you’ve resisted my pick-up lines for this long.”

I smile and punch him lightly, “Oh yeah, I’m sure I’m setting some kind of record by now.”

“You probably are,” he jokes. “I should contact
Guinness.” He winks and pushes back from me, making my body instantly ache for him to close the gap between us again. “Come on, Freckles the Syrup Farmer. I’ve got one last surprise for you.”

I pull my arms out from beneath his shirt and let him grab my hand again as he leads me down the tracks to the darker end. Even though the city lights are all around us, Tanner has to use the flashlight to light our path the farther we walk. Suddenly, a soft glow appears in the distance. As we close in on it, I see that it’s a fire pit. There’s a small group gathered around it and I hear faint laughter echoing down the rails.

“What is this, a bonfire?”

“Something like that,” Tanner says ambiguously, flashing me a sideways smile.

“What are you up to, T Dubs?” I joke, using the nickname I heard his friend use at The Box.

He laughs, “You’ll see. And don’t call me that. Only my friends call me that.”

I scrunch up my face, trying not to be offended. Tanner catches my eyes and stops walking, pulling me into him. “I didn’t mean it like that, Frecks. I mean that you’re not just some guy friend slapping me on the back and handing me a beer. Plus,” he adds, his tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lip. “I like the way my name sounds when it comes from those lips of yours.” He leans in a little closer, his mouth just centimeters from mine. “One day, you’ll scream my name. And that’s not a line. That’s a fact.”

A crooked smile plays on his lips and my chest rises and falls heavily with the breaths racking through me.
I try to find a cocky come-back, or just any words that form an audible sentence, but nothing happens. I just stand there, breathing him in, wanting him to kiss me so fucking bad I can’t stand it, but instead he pulls back and leads me the rest of the way through the brush and up to the fire.

“Oh shit, look who it is!” A
tall, lanky guy on the side of the fire pit opposite us says as we approach. He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him. “Tanner fucking West.”

“The one and only,” Tanner quips, flashing his teeth. I realize I haven’t really noticed his full smile, I’ve been so focused on the sexy half smile that seems to live permanently fixed on his face. His teeth are blazing white against his tan skin and his honey eyes dance in the firelight.

The tall guy crosses over to us and he and Tanner exchange low fives, “I’ve missed you around here, man. And who is this?” His eyes appraise me, gliding over every inch of my skin. Tanner’s jaw clenches and I feel him stiffen beside me. “Even in that lame ass shirt of yours I can see she’s way too hot to be with you.”

I smile and blush, tucking my hair behind my ear as Tanner grabs my hips and pulls me closer. “This is Freckles, and she’s in my
lame ass shirt so that you perverts know she’s off limits,” Tanner jokes, though I’m not sure if he’s joking so much as he’s being dead ass serious.

“Freckles?”

I roll my eyes, “My name is Kellee.” I extend my hand out for his and he lifts it to his mouth, planting a soft kiss like he’s a fucking prince.

“I like Kellee much better than Freckles,” he winks.

Tanner clears his throat and grabs my hand, “Alright, hands off, Chip.”

“Chip?” I half scream, half choke. “As in Chip Drommer from Titanium Rush?”

“In the flesh, baby,” he winks again. I have to fight for my jaw not to fall to the ground. Titanium Rush is one of the biggest underground alternative bands in New York City. They always play secret shows that they announce last minute, and they sell out every time without fail.

I look around the fire and notice that the rest of the band is here, too. I don’t know how I didn’t notice them before. Although I’m pretty sure Tanner’s muscles in that white tank top could distract me from seeing a car explode.

“Come on, let’s grab a seat. They’re about to start,” Tanner says, leading me to a make-shift bench on one end of the fire pit.

“I can’t believe we’re sitting around a fire with Titanium Rush. And I can’t believe you
know
Chip Drommer!”

Tanner smiles cockily, “Well hold on to your hot pink panties, Frecks, because it’s about to get even better.”

“How can it get any better than this?” I ask before realizing the first part of his sentence. “Wait, how did you know my panties are pink?”

“Lucky guess, maybe?” he offers up a smile and a slight shrug. “Or maybe they peeked out above your jeans when you climbed over the fence. Either way, they’re fucking hot.”

I roll my eyes and start to fire off a reply when Chip whistles loudly and everyone around the fire grows silent.

“Alright, fuckers,” he says, the dimply smile I’ve always swooned over plastered on his face. “
We only have a few more months before they start construction on this section of the High Line, so let’s make the best of it. Make your requests and pay up if you want your song to be a guaranteed play. Kash, Hammer, grab your strings and let’s do this damn thing.” Chip finishes with a clap and everyone whistles and cheers before jumping up to grab a new bottle from the surrounding ice chests.

Tanner turns to me, “Want a beer?”

I shake my head, “No thanks.”

He smirks and tilts his head, questioning me. “You don’t drink, do you, Freckles?”

“Not really. I mean I have before, but it’s just not my thing,” I shrug it off like it’s no big deal, I’m definitely not ready to get into any more stories right now.

“Suit yourself,” he says, taking a cold beer from a pretty brunette who’s taken the liberty to pass out a six pack. She bats her chocolate brown eyes at him and winks as she walks away, looking back over her shoulder. Tanner nods as a thank you, but doesn’t seem interested. I can’t help but think back to the little blonde twin that was hanging on him at The Box the night he called Paisley. I wonder if he’s around other girls all the time.

And I’m kind of pissed at myself because I really hope he’s not.

Everyone settles back
in as Chip, the lead guitarist, Kash, and the bass guitarist, Hammer, settle in and tune up their guitars. Seek, the drummer, is sitting on top of a beat box and thumbing on it softly.

“Are they going to play an acoustic session?” I ask, surveyi
ng the equipment. Or lack thereof.

“Yeah. They take requests and play for as long as they’re entertained. The more you pay, the more likely your request will be played. But, the key is to request the ones they love to play, otherwise they’ll get bored quickly and want to cut it short.”

“Well doesn’t everyone know their favorites by now?”

“You would think so,” Tanner says. “But just like we get tired of songs that play too much on the radio, they get tired of songs that get requested too much – even if it’s one of their favorites. It’s actually kind of tough to keep them playing much longer than an hour.”

I bite my lip, turning back just in time to see the tiny brunette hand Chip a ten dollar bill. She whispers something in his ear and he smacks her ass as she walks back to sit down. She giggles and I gag on the inside.

Lame.

“Tiffany wants to hear
Without You Here
. We’ll start with that one, but you fuckers better come up with better requests than that if you want to keep us playing.” He winks and Hammer starts strumming a soft melody on his guitar.

About an hour goes by and everyone is getting in their requests. Some are the band’s originals, some are popular requests from older bands, and some are just free-styled lyric sessions. After a laid back version of
Sex on Fire
, Chip starts whispering to Kash as everyone refills their drinks.

“I think they’re about to wrap up,” Tanner says, thumbing the inside of my palm. He’s had a firm grip on my hand the entire night. I really want to hate it, but I don’t. Not even a little bit.

“Really? But it’s just getting good,” I whine, like actually whine, because I really don’t want them to stop. Or the night to end.

“I thought so too, but the way they’re whispering up there, I think they’re going to do a last call.”

Just as Tanner predicted, Chip does a last call for one more request. “Make it a good one, pussies,” he jokes, taking a swig of his beer.

Before I can think twice about it, I jump up from my seat and pull the fifty dollar bill from my pocket that I earned as a tip from a foreign couple at Sal’s yesterday.
I know it’s irresponsible to blow it on this, but for once I don’t really care.