went to
give a quote on a gazebo, but none of that could realign his thoughts. So he
did the only thing he could to find any semblance of peace.
“Here
to see a man about a horse?” a female voice chided as soon as he entered.
“Or
a woman it looks like,” he replied, leaning over to give Maya a peck on the
cheek. He started grumbling on the inside though; he’d just wanted to grab a
horse and go for a ride, not be confronted with another blast from the past,
not this week.
“I
haven’t seen you for a while. Whatcha been up to?”
“Same
old, same old,” he murmured, hands thrust deep in his pockets. “Which one of
these guys are you finished with, Doc?”
“Ronaldo
here is good to go,” Maya said, stroking his mane and feeding him a carrot from
her pocket. “But you know the rules. Have you been over to see Bea?”
He
let out a puff of frustration. “No.”
Maya
raised an eyebrow at him. “Care to elaborate?”
“No.”
She
shook her head. “For a man trying to convince me to let him steal a horse,
you’re doing a bang up job.”
“Borrowing,”
he argued, “not stealing. And as long as my face is on a billboard, I can ride
whatever horse I want.” He grabbed the reins from her hand and walked the
stallion away from the veterinarian.
“Have
a nice ride,” he heard Maya yell after him.
“I
plan on it.” He saddled the horse in record time and jumped on, cantering down
trails barely used anymore. He was chasing after solitude, the kind that
expands to fill the empty spaces, the kind he couldn’t get in his own head.
The complete quiet necessary to evict a pop star from his thoughts was only
found on the back of a horse with the wind blowing against his skin.
Faith
lay in the middle of her backyard, grass tickling her arms, and stared up at
the canopy of greenery. She watched the leaves dance in the breeze, gently
waving at her, and tried to get her mind in order. For the first time in a
long time, her problems couldn’t be solved by the strum of the guitar – she was
too mixed up for even the music to find the point.
“There
you are.”
Faith
looked up and groaned. “Jackson, what are you doing here?” She threw her hand
up over her eyes, childishly pretending that if she couldn’t see him, she
wouldn’t have to deal with him.
“Looking
for you. Pearl said you were out here, but I almost missed you.”
“What
caught your eye? So I’ll know how better to camouflage myself next time.” And
to coach that chef of hers on the definition of ‘do not disturb.’
She
heard Jackson lay down beside her and sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to be
able to wish him away. “It’s always so beautiful back here. Though I’d prefer
a bench.”
“I
can’t take any more surprising news, Jackson. If you’re here to rock my world
again, I suggest keeping it to yourself.”
“Hmmm,
I rocked your world, did I?” His voice was teasing, and it took a moment for
her to hear the innuendo. Jackson was nice, compassionate, and handsome, but
they’d never gotten into any world-rocking – her heart had always held out hope
for her husband it seemed.
Faith
smacked him in the arm, never even opening her eyes. “I definitely felt the
earth move under my feet.”
Jackson
laughed, and she smiled. “Don’t worry. I have no more bombshells to drop.
You don’t have any other secrets that might be biding their time, do you?”
“You’re
well-versed in all my secrets now.” The mood morphed from teasing to heavy,
Faith’s unease growing into a living thing.
“So,”
Jackson said, “what do you want to do about it?”
“I
have no fucking clue.”
“ No
Fucking Clue . Andy Peters' chart-topping song four years ago. Great
hook. Catchy lyrics. Not applicable to this situation.”
“Well,
unless I can buy clues like people buy vowels on game shows, I’m tapped out,”
Faith said. “I haven’t even begun to
give a quote on a gazebo, but none of that could realign his thoughts. So he
did the only thing he could to find any semblance of peace.
“Here
to see a man about a horse?” a female voice chided as soon as he entered.
“Or
a woman it looks like,” he replied, leaning over to give Maya a peck on the
cheek. He started grumbling on the inside though; he’d just wanted to grab a
horse and go for a ride, not be confronted with another blast from the past,
not this week.
“I
haven’t seen you for a while. Whatcha been up to?”
“Same
old, same old,” he murmured, hands thrust deep in his pockets. “Which one of
these guys are you finished with, Doc?”
“Ronaldo
here is good to go,” Maya said, stroking his mane and feeding him a carrot from
her pocket. “But you know the rules. Have you been over to see Bea?”
He
let out a puff of frustration. “No.”
Maya
raised an eyebrow at him. “Care to elaborate?”
“No.”
She
shook her head. “For a man trying to convince me to let him steal a horse,
you’re doing a bang up job.”
“Borrowing,”
he argued, “not stealing. And as long as my face is on a billboard, I can ride
whatever horse I want.” He grabbed the reins from her hand and walked the
stallion away from the veterinarian.
“Have
a nice ride,” he heard Maya yell after him.
“I
plan on it.” He saddled the horse in record time and jumped on, cantering down
trails barely used anymore. He was chasing after solitude, the kind that
expands to fill the empty spaces, the kind he couldn’t get in his own head.
The complete quiet necessary to evict a pop star from his thoughts was only
found on the back of a horse with the wind blowing against his skin.
Faith
lay in the middle of her backyard, grass tickling her arms, and stared up at
the canopy of greenery. She watched the leaves dance in the breeze, gently
waving at her, and tried to get her mind in order. For the first time in a
long time, her problems couldn’t be solved by the strum of the guitar – she was
too mixed up for even the music to find the point.
“There
you are.”
Faith
looked up and groaned. “Jackson, what are you doing here?” She threw her hand
up over her eyes, childishly pretending that if she couldn’t see him, she
wouldn’t have to deal with him.
“Looking
for you. Pearl said you were out here, but I almost missed you.”
“What
caught your eye? So I’ll know how better to camouflage myself next time.” And
to coach that chef of hers on the definition of ‘do not disturb.’
She
heard Jackson lay down beside her and sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to be
able to wish him away. “It’s always so beautiful back here. Though I’d prefer
a bench.”
“I
can’t take any more surprising news, Jackson. If you’re here to rock my world
again, I suggest keeping it to yourself.”
“Hmmm,
I rocked your world, did I?” His voice was teasing, and it took a moment for
her to hear the innuendo. Jackson was nice, compassionate, and handsome, but
they’d never gotten into any world-rocking – her heart had always held out hope
for her husband it seemed.
Faith
smacked him in the arm, never even opening her eyes. “I definitely felt the
earth move under my feet.”
Jackson
laughed, and she smiled. “Don’t worry. I have no more bombshells to drop.
You don’t have any other secrets that might be biding their time, do you?”
“You’re
well-versed in all my secrets now.” The mood morphed from teasing to heavy,
Faith’s unease growing into a living thing.
“So,”
Jackson said, “what do you want to do about it?”
“I
have no fucking clue.”
“ No
Fucking Clue . Andy Peters' chart-topping song four years ago. Great
hook. Catchy lyrics. Not applicable to this situation.”
“Well,
unless I can buy clues like people buy vowels on game shows, I’m tapped out,”
Faith said. “I haven’t even begun to
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