Title: Inspired
Author: Kate
Category: M/M, AU
Rating: R, maybe even PG-13...nothing too terrible!
Archive: If you already have my stuff, go for it. If not, ask please.
Disclaimer: The show has been over long enough, can't I have them now?
Summary: What happens when you're inspired by someone you don't even know?
A.N.: This is a fairly short fic (3-4 parts) that pretty much fell out of my
brain. Thanks to Cindy and Didi for their help!
PART 1
Santa Fe, New Mexico. July 23.
That was the night I first saw him.
I just started singing the second verse of the third song I ever wrote. I wasn't
really concentrating on the song, instead I was wondering how rich I'd be if I
actually got paid every time I'd sang that song. I was thinking that I missed my
apartment and, had really been eight months since I'd last seen it? I thought
about how I'd spent more nights in cheap hotel beds in the past three years than
in my soft, comfortable bed back home.
I sing with my eyes closed.
I always have, I don't know why. Well, actually, I do. Singing makes me feel
extremely vulnerable. Does that make me some masochistic sick freak to love it
so much? When I sing, I'm reliving all the emotions I felt when I wrote the
lyrics and usually that's a feeling I don't want to broadcast to the entire
audience. Not with my eyes anyway. Maybe a part of me is afraid of what I'll
see.
Singing has always been something just for me. A release. A way to deal with all
the emotions that run rampant through my life. I don't want to be the next big
thing. Sure, I'd like to be appreciated for what I do, who wouldn't? But I'm not
out to conquer the charts with my music. I sing because I love it. Three years
practically living out of a suitcase, wandering rather aimlessly around the
country, you kind of have to. I sing because it is so much a part of me, I can't
imagine not doing it.
I used to sing for myself.
But that night, I opened my eyes. I opened my eyes and found myself staring into
the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, rich like caramel and endless like the
stars.
And now I sing for him.
***
Dallas, Texas. July 27.
He was there too.
I couldn't stop thinking about him…those eyes. I only caught a brief glimpse
that night in Santa Fe. It was like staring directly into the sun- a fire so
luminous that it hurt to look. But when I opened my eyes again, he was gone. I
searched the crowd many times that night. Nothing.
However, at that smoky little club we played in Dallas, I saw him again. I
didn't expect him to be there but something inside me told me to look. And there
he was.
That time, I didn't dare look away. I held his gaze for what felt like an
eternity. There was just something about it…. like he was reaching into my very
soul. I sang one of my best sets that night, searching deep for all the emotion
I could find to pour my heart out there for him. For some reason, it didn't make
me feel unbearably vulnerable. It felt safe. Crazy as it sounds, it seemed liked
he understood.
***
Miami, Florida. August 28.
He's haunting me.
I sing and he's there, watching me with those eyes. I don't understand it. Over
a month and six cities later without fail, he's in the audience. He usually
lurks in the back, toward the bar. He nurses one beer the entire show. His eyes
never leave me that I can tell. By the time my set is over, no matter how fast I
rush out, he's gone.
I've asked around at every show and no one remembers him, let alone knows him.
I'm beginning to think he's just a figment of my imagination.
And, boy, does my imagination take liberties with him! He haunts my shows and he
haunts my dreams…
I've memorized his face, his body. Well, as much as I can from what I've seen.
Mystery Man is tall and big, muscular but not overly so. His beautiful eyes are
surrounded by an even more beautiful face. Not girly pretty, but that rugged
masculine beauty that makes a girl weak in the knees. His lips…wow, full and
utterly kissable. Everything about him…he just makes my body hum.
I want to talk to him, need to talk to him. I need to know that he's not just
someone I created to fill my empty heart, but that he's really there…
It's been thirteen days since my last show. Since I last saw him. Does it make
me a sorry human being that I've felt utterly empty since then? That a normally
appreciated reprieve from nights spent singing the same songs in smoky, noisy
clubs seemed like an endless drought? I am so pathetic.
I'm lying here on a beautiful sandy beach, baking in the harsh Miami sun, and
all I want is for time to speed up so I can see him tonight… The butterflies in
my stomach aren't nerves for tonight's performance; they're an overwhelming fear
that he won't be there.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I watch the endless cycle of ocean waves
pouring onto the shore. What if he doesn't come? These past few weeks, I've
changed my entire outlook on performing. I do it for him. If he were to just
disappear into thin air, just like he appeared, would I be able to go back to my
humdrum life? Would I be able to sit up on that small stage at night and pretend
that I still get a thrill from doing it? The possible answer to that question
scares me.
"Yo, M!" I roll my eyes as my cousin Sean drops next to me in the sand.
"I thought I asked to be left alone?" I shoot a withering glare at the
freeloader whom I have the misfortune to call blood.
Sean snorts and shoves a hand through his short, curly blond hair. "Oh forgive
me. I forgot the Diva needs her 'special time'." He says those last two words
with obnoxious air quotes so I'm left with little choice but to chuck a handful
of sand in his direction.
"Shut up, Sean," I sneer as he sputters, trying to get the sand out of his
mouth. Oops.
"Really, M, I don't have to tolerate these inhumane working conditions. I could
just quit. What would you do then?" Sean gives me his patented puppy dog look. I
snort.
"Throw a party?" I blink innocently at him. Sean quitting? That's a totally
laughable thought. As my roadie, bodyguard, and sometimes drummer, Sean thrives
on the fact that he is required to do little more than follow my ass all over
the country, meeting and bedding as many different bar whores as he can find.
For him, it's heaven.
"Oh my little cousin, I've got nothing but love." Before I can protest he scoots
over and envelops me in a tight bear hug. "Nothing but love."
I roll my eyes, "you're such a freak." But I hug him back. Truthfully, things
wouldn't be half as interesting on the road without Sean's run-ins with local
law enforcement. I hardly pay him anything for tagging along either, just set
aside money for bail when needed.
"What's this? A love fest and I'm not invited?" And seconds later, the second
and final member to my meager entourage has joined the hug.
"You're always invited, Whitman!" Sean says happily and from my vantage point of
being squashed between the two tall men, I see Sean give Alex a noogie of love
to prove it. Alex reaches around me to try and get Sean back. Before I become a
casualty of testosterone, I squirm out from between them.
"Are you guys still drunk or something?" I study them carefully. Sean looks his
usual slovenly self, his curly hair unruly and wearing yesterday's clothes
still. Alex is an improvement; at least he looks like he showered recently.
"Of course I'm not drunk, M, that passed hours ago," Sean winks at me. Standing
up, Sean dusts the sand off his jeans. "Okay, ladies, it's time for me to hit
the showers." After ducking to avoid the piece of driftwood that Alex aims at
his head, Sean waves and trots off to the motel.
I turn to Alex, “So what’s up, Alex? I thought you were going to cool it on the
sun for awhile?” I reach up and tap his badly burnt nose gently, unable to hide
my grin.
“Well, I figured I could brave it for awhile. There are a few things I need to
talk to you about.” Alex gets his serious ‘manager’ face. I sit up attentively.
Without Alex, none of what I’ve accomplished so far would be happening. We’ve
been best friends practically since birth, staging our own performances since we
figured out that hairbrushes make the best microphones. It was Alex who
encouraged me to expand beyond singing at the Flying Pepperoni on open mic
nights. Without Alex, I don’t know where I’d be.
“Go for it.” I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my head there, watching him
attentively. Not being attracted to Alex in any romantic or sexual way, I often
forget how good-looking he is. A little on the lanky side, he still manages to
pull off that whole geeky yet sexy look. Plus he has these beautiful blue eyes,
clear as the sky. Not as entrancing as my Mystery Man’s, mind you, but
definitely up there. It took awhile for other ladies to catch on to him, but now
he doesn’t have much of a problem picking up girls when he’s interested.
“Okay. First things first, these past few weeks you’ve been amazing, Maria. More
amazing than usual.” Alex flashes me a genuine smile.
I blush a little, then the idea catches up with me as to why it’s been like
that. How can I ever explain Mystery Man to Alex?
Alex continues, “Your CDs are selling like hotcakes at the show. I think word is
really starting to get out on you. I’m expecting a packed house tonight and
there’ll even be a few local reporters there to scope things out, in addition to
a local radio station. So, I definitely think things are on the up and up!”
“Wow,” is all I can say. Alex looks ecstatic. This is what we’ve been trying to
do for the last three years. Sure, I’ve had my share of publicity, minor as it
has been. But reporters and a radio station? Pinch me!
“Definitely wow. You can bet
your ass I’ll be
working
my ass off to make
something of this. It’s about time the world got to know Maria DeLuca!” Alex
wraps an arm around me and pulls me to his side. I don’t hesitate to hug him
back, floored by the possible change in my life. Three years I’ve done this… Not
as long as some, but much longer than others. I’ve long ago come to terms with
the fact that I might never get a break. But, still, the hope is always there.
Squeezing Alex tight, I plant a big, noisy kiss on his cheek. He squirms like a
little boy being forced to kiss his smelly Aunt Ruth. "Alex, have I told you
lately that I love you?"
Alex maneuvers out of my grasp and swipes at his cheek. Shaking his head, he
grins at me and then pinches me cheek, "Aw, and I love you my little Maria." I
scrunch up my nose and stick my tongue out at him.
"I'm not little," I pout.
Alex just snorts. "Anyway, Maria. I just want to say that I don't know what's
gotten into you these past few weeks but whatever it is, keep it up. You've been
wonderful."
I offer my best friend a weak grin. If only he knew… My Mystery Man. My heart
skips a beat, the worry of him not being there tonight washing over me.
"Thank you, Alex. What would I do without you to keep my ego nice and healthy?"
We both laugh.
"You'd do just fine, Maria, just fine," Alex stands up and stretches his arms
over his head, yawning. "I think it's time I get out of the sun and back to bed.
I'll catch you later."
I wave bye and fall back onto the sand. Staring at the bright blue sky, I'm
suddenly inspired.