Fletcher
Put on your big boy panties, Kelley.
Now, 2024 | Sirena Beach, California
Nobody told him that when he became a business owner, his latent anxiety would suddenly reappear in full force. It didn’t matter that had been running Big Waves for the last four years—part-time the first three years and full-time the last year—he still woke up every morning panicking about the little things. Did he do inventory the night before? Had he placed the orders for new equipment? Now, he had another thing added to his list of anxiety inducing headaches—music lessons.
No matter what he did—painkillers, every bottle of water in his fridge and yoga—nothing helped with the throbbing behind his eyes. He had fallen asleep at some point, but it hadn’t been enough. If anything, it made him feel worse.
After a freezing cold shower to wake him up and a large cup of coffee—half of which he spilled on himself—he had driven the twenty minutes to work, only to park and walk up to the front and find that his bag and pockets were empty of keys. So he made the trip back home, grabbed his keys and then opened up an hour later than usual. Walking through the store, he thought back to how he ended up saddled with all these responsibilities, whether he wanted them or not.
When the band decided to finally take a break—“we’re not calling it a retirement, just a much needed sabbatical”— had been floundering. Music and The Rescuers were his whole world. His relationship with his family was strained, his ex-wife had moved on and he needed to go somewhere to deal with all these big changes. Almost like he’d heard ’s pleas his father’s brother, Uncle Hank, called.
“I heard you got old and decided to retire.”
“Takes one old man to know one,” fired back with a laugh.
“Come on down and visit this old man, kid. It’s been years.”
“I guess I could. Not like I have anything else going on.”
“Sirena Beach awaits,” Hank said before hanging up.
Either his uncle knew what those words would mean to him or he was being clueless as always, took it as a sign. Only someone who’d written a song about a mermaid—a sirena —would know that that’s where he was meant to be. So he packed up his things and went to California.
Growing up in small town Iowa, visiting Uncle Hank was an annual treat. Unlike his siblings, Hank had always liked living along the coast with access to beaches and the surf. He’d heard his father refer to Hank as a hippie countless times, but those were all the reasons why he loved his uncle. Besides being fun and open to almost anything, he lived a lawless kind of life. The only thing he looked forward to every summer was seeing Hank. When got famous and toured the country, Hank would come to as many shows as possible. They’d hang out after the set, Hank would regale the boys with stories of his misspent youth and his soul would be instantly recharged.
Hank launched Big Waves Music in the early seventies, the first of its kind music store and recording studio. Tons of small local bands cut their albums in the basic studio in the back, and Hank had become something of a legend. As he moved from city to city, Big Waves Music moved with him, until he finally settled in a small beach town when was in the middle of making it big.
So when he got to Sirena Beach, nothing seemed amiss with his uncle. Hank’s first task? Take over running Big Waves.
“Get all your musician friends to visit, make a big scene, bring people back to this kind of life.”
“Which musician friends should I call?”
“Paul McCartney is a good friend, right? How about Paul Simon?”
While he didn’t call any of his friends, he did help Hank repaint the store and put up new signage and organized things that brought customers back to the store. That took them the better part of the year and when Christmas rolled around, Hank asked for one more thing.
“Look kid, I’m too old to play Santa anymore. So I told that Mars fella you’d take over.”
“You did what now?”
Hank patted him on the back with a jovial laugh. “You’re the only person I know that likes Christmas as much as I do. So you’re suiting up.”
“You’re fucking joking.”
“Santa doesn’t cuss. You better work on that.”
Then he became Santa. It was unpleasant that first year, wobbling around in Hank’s old suit, being careful not to trip over his boots and learning how to modify his voice so as not to scare the kids away. It took some practicing and lots of coaching from Hank, but he finally got the hang of it. Just in time for his uncle to drop a third and final doozy on him.
Hank was dying.
He’d apparently battled cancer for years, ignoring it at first and then seeking treatment until it was pointless to keep going. He’d lost the love of his life years ago and he’d held on for , or so he said.
Now, everything that had once been in Hank’s name was being transferred to —the house that he’d fully paid off years ago and Big Waves Music. Oh, he also introduced to his lawyer, hoping that the two of them would hit it off and get married. Unfortunately for Hank, and Erin settled for being great friends, because the chemistry and sparks Hank hoped for? Non-existent.
If he was being honest, there was only one woman in the world he’d had sparks with instantly. And she was long gone from his life.
Music was the only consistent thing, which was why taking over the music store felt right. What he didn’t account for was how it wouldn’t be as exciting as when Hank was running the place. All the old musicians had passed on and those that came into the store were usually there to get directions to somewhere else. He had kept only one of Hank’s original staff members—because the others were pretty useless and knew nothing about anything—and some days he felt like he was struggling to keep them busy.
So he decided to give music lessons.
Which was a joke since was a self-taught drummer and had picked up the other instruments from watching his friends rehearse and perform every night. But if he offered music lessons, then maybe it would bring in more people. Or at least that’s what Erin said. Even if they didn’t purchase instruments—the store wasn’t bankrupt, just empty—there would be something for and Benson to do on a daily basis.
Soon after Halloween, Benson presented a poster advertising the music lessons which he plastered everywhere. In the week following there was an influx of messages and phone calls enquiring who was taking the lessons and how much they cost. Despite having been with an internationally acclaimed and award-winning band, most people didn’t know the name Kelley. He’d never been one to flaunt his fame either, so it took some wrangling before they updated the poster with mention of The Rescuers, using words like ‘award-winning’ and ‘legendary’, and suddenly everyone was interested.
His first session was with two teenagers who, according to Benson, had sent in messages on Instagram that looked like ‘excited keyboard smashing’. He understood about two things in that whole conversation. Even with all of the assurances that he’d do great and it would be a total breeze, ’s anxiety was telling him otherwise. Which was so convenient, since he hadn’t had a panic attack or the urge to curl in on himself in years.
Why did I let you convince me this was a good idea?
My sweat has sweat.
Erin
….
That is disgusting and information I didn’t need.
Grunting at his phone, took off the green and yellow plaid shirt he was wearing and fanned himself. Like that would chase away the worry. He’d never interacted with kids outside of meet and greets when touring with The Rescuers. He’d never taught someone else how to play an instrument. Regardless of what people thought when they looked at him, he was a permanently stressed walrus.
I’m sure there was a better and less stressful way for me to get more people through those doors.
Erin
You shot down all my other ideas.
They were pretty terrible, E.
Erin
Inviting people to host themed parties is a great way to bring them in.
Then I have to clean up after they leave.
Erin
You can’t have everything, buddy.
rolled his eyes and replied with the middle finger emoji before tucking his phone away. Erin had been a godsend the last few years after Hank died. As his lawyer, Erin knew how Hank ran the business, all of his partnerships and friendships. So she helped him connect with those people and keep Hank’s spirit alive in Sirena Beach the best he could. Even though she lived in San Diego, she drove to see him pretty often so they could go through the books and make sure everything was on the up and up. They might not have been a romantic match, like Hank wanted, but they forged a bond neither of them expected.
Erin
You’re going to do great, . Breathe through it, don’t overthink what you’re doing.
Besides, today is just about getting to know the kids.
You’re a world famous, award-winning musician. They’re just kids.
Not sure that’s more comforting or terrifying, but thanks.
Keep your junior associates on hand in case these kids say shit to me that makes zero sense.
Erin
Pull on your big boy panties, Kelley.
Fuck you very much, Decker.
Hours later, well into the work day, he heard the bell above the front door ring. Shockingly it wasn’t the first time the bell rang, but it was the first time Benson called out for him. had spent his day doing research on how to teach people to read music and give lessons, none of it seemed to ease his nerves. Benson had handled the first few customers, but clearly it was time for him to face the kids that were eager to learn music from him. Slipping on his glasses, he untied his long dark hair from the bun he’d kept it in all day and then walked to the front where excited chatter greeted him.
Two kids decked in punk rock fashion were talking animatedly to Benson, who was nodding along. Maybe his friends-slash-employee knew what those words were, but tensed at the thought of not understanding a damn thing. Blowing out a slow breath, he raised a hand in an awkward wave when the teenagers turned to him, their eyes wide.
“Oh my god. You really are Kelley. I was so sure the poster was using your name to get more attention,” the Avril Lavigne look-alike said, before a deep blush spread across her cheeks. “Sorry, that was too much fangirling.”
Benson chuckled and shook his head. “You seem kinda young to know who I am, fangirling or not.”
“Well, I was raised on your music.”
“Your folks have good taste,” he said with a chuckle, then turned to the other punk rocker and smiled. “Welcome to Big Waves.”
“We’ve been here before, when Uncle Hank used to run the place. But thanks?”
Okay, we’re not doing a good job with conversing today .
“Right, well…” he trailed off, looking to Benson for help, but his friend shrugged.
The kids looked at each other and burst into laughter. The blonde one turned to him, her blush deepening. “ Sorry . Mom says I need to tone back the sassiness. I’m Emery, she/her. This is Nico, they/them.”
“I’m uh…, he/him?” He glanced at Benson who gave him a subtle nod. “That’s Benson, also he/him.”
“Nice to officially meet both of you. So,” Emery said, rubbing her hands together like some kind of evil mastermind. “How does this work?”
Fantastic question, kid. Fantastic fucking question .
“How about you two browse through the store and see what instruments get your attention, then we can figure out how to go from there,” Benson suggested and the kids nodded, practically bouncing as they moved through racks of instruments. shoved his hands into his pockets and followed a few steps behind, smiling as they stopped at strings, then winds and moved back and forth a few times. Growing up, he’d been drawn to music too and it took him a while before he realized that drums were always going to be his focus. It might take Emery and Nico a while too, but for these lessons, they needed to start somewhere.
When Emery turned to him with a wide grin, he was hit with a memory of a curvy brunette smiling at him the same way. He blinked to clear the thoughts and focused on the kid. “I’ve always been interested in the drums, because I watched a lot of your live shows and think you’re like so badass.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, adjusting his glasses for something to do. “I should warn you that I taught myself the drums, so my teaching methods might be different from what you’d get elsewhere.”
She shrugged, that familiar smile still lighting up her face. “Given I have zero training outside of using my pillows as drums, I think we’ll be fine.”
“I got my start with pillows too.”
“I know. That’s what my mom told me,” she said and then bounced off to find Nico and Benson. He chuckled and watched her go, his mind filling up with more memories of that night sixteen years ago. It wasn’t meant to be more than one night, not when Mick pulled out her ‘list’ and rattled off all the things she wanted to do in this lifetime. Still, waking up the next morning to an empty bed and a clean hotel room had been disappointing. had wanted a few more hours with her, a few more days even. She’d left behind her underwear, a stretchy hair tie and leather bracelets that he held onto for a bit.
When the bell above the door chimed again, he snapped out of his thoughts as Emery raced past him. Nico followed with an amused smile as they said, “Emery’s mom wanted to meet you and make sure you’re not some kind of serial killer or whatever. She’s cool, a little neurotic, but she’s a good mom.”
Before he could respond, he heard Emery whining. “You’re not going to embarrass me, right?”
“What do you take me for, huh?” a husky voice said and goosebumps exploded across his arms. First, I see her smile. Now I hear her voice. What the fuck? “So have you decided what you’re going to learn?”
“The drums, duh.”
“Of course,” Emery’s mother said, a warm laugh filtering through the whole store. “All right, so where’s this Mr. Kelley you’re so excited about?”
straightened his clothes and glasses, then walked to the front of the store ready to introduce himself. Benson was already there, shaking Emery’s mom’s hand when he stepped around the corner. Then the woman turned to face him and his heart stopped.
My mermaid .
His memories didn’t do justice to the woman standing in front of him. She’d always been deliciously curvy, soft in all the right places. While her hair was much shorter now, the curls were still thick and dark. The nose ring that had once been slightly bent out of shape was now thicker and her eyes were so much brighter. He couldn’t help look her over—a wide necked long sleeved black top hugged her chest and arms, paired with a green skirt that had an uneven hem that ended at her calves and white sneakers.
Fuck, she’s still the best thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Mick.”
Her eyes widened slightly and she swallowed, gaze roving all over his body. “Fletch.”
Fuck, that nickname still gets me .
“You know Kelley?” Emery squealed, snapping him out of the filthy thoughts his brain was about to embark on.
“Yeah, we…uh…met…”
“We met sixteen years ago when I was on tour,” he quickly added, unable to look away from the woman in front of him.
“Wow, you two are old .” Emery laughed, the sound following her as she walked away.
didn’t care if she stayed or if they had an audience, because all he could focus on was Mick. Now it made sense why Emery’s smile had seemed so familiar, she looked so much like her mother. Then another thought entered his mind, panic squeezing his heart so tight.
“Is she mine?”
“What?” Mick’s eyes got even wider.
“Emery, is she mine?”
“That’s the first thing you say to me after all these years. Really?”
He pinched his eyes shut and shook his head. Memories of that night assaulting his brain—stripping each other naked, sex in the shower, sex on the couch, their hands wandering and gripping, foil wrappers strewn across the floor.
“We ran out of condoms that night,” he whispered.
She nodded, that familiar blush creeping up her neck. “Took the morning after pill on my way home the next day.”
Fuck . The fist around his chest loosened and he let out a shaky breath. He’d never really been interested in kids or thought of himself as father material. But if Mick had been pregnant with his child, would have wanted to know. At the same time, the twinge that she wasn’t his surprised him.
“I would have told you if she was yours. You know that, right?”
“I know. Fuck, I’m sorry, that was…I shouldn’t have assumed.” He rubbed his forehead with a sigh before looking at her again. “You look good, Mick.”
“Actually, it’s Micah ,” she countered, watching him curiously. “What are you doing here, Fletch?”
Micah . “I live here.”
“Since when?”
He smiled at the tone, all fire and moxie, like that night. “Been in and out of town since Hank died. Officially a resident since about April,” he explained.
“Wild that I haven’t run into you before.”
“I’m more of a hermit these days.”
She laughed, the sound taking him by surprise. The last time he’d heard her laugh, he had her pinned to the bed, his fingers digging into her sides as he got her to apologize for making fun of his age.
“?”
“Sorry…seeing you again is startling. In a good way, obviously.” He’d thought about this woman constantly for two years after their night together, he’d written a song for her, won awards for it and people called him Romeo for years after. Then he’d let all thoughts of Micah fade away when he met and married Alice a few years later.
“I tend to have that effect on people,” she joked and tucked a few curls behind her ear, drawing his attention to the black ink on her arm. “It’s good to see you, too, Fletch.”
“Even if you did sneak out of bed and clean the entire room.”
Another laugh burst out of her. “I had places to go, things to do…”
“I promise to take good care of your kid.”
She chuckled and shook her head. “I’m more concerned about you . That kid is all me, and I’m guessing you remember that I was a lot to handle.”
“Rude,” he mumbled, not needing any help in remembering how good it had been to handle her that night. “I think I handled you fine.”
“You did.” Her expression softened, brown eyes locked on his and he watched as her tongue swiped out to wet her bottom lip.
A phone ringing snapped them into attention. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed to be caught thinking of her that way . Especially since his fingers tingled to trace every dip and bump of her body.
“I have to go, but I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Absolutely.”
“Bye, Fletch.”
“Mick,” he said softly with a slight tip of his head. She chuckled and walked out of the store, a crisp floral scent lingering in her wake. He stood at the door and watched as she climbed into her car, his heart thudding at the memory of the last thing they said to each other.
“I’m gonna miss you, Mick.”
“The night’s not over, Fletch. Don’t say goodbye yet.”