Worlds Apart

Chapter Eight

Yanking away, I looked down at Cash with a smile so large I felt as if my face might simply split in two. "What are you doing here?" I asked excitedly, letting my hands hook comfortably behind his neck.

He shifted slightly so he was in a more secure position with me leaning back away from him, but was grinning broadly all the same. "Were you expecting another producer?"

"Asshole," I accused, laughing as I spoke. "Why are you here now? You weren't supposed to show up for a couple days."

"I thought I'd surprise you."

Not able to wipe the smile away, I allowed my eyes to trace the curvatures of his oh so familiar face. The crinkles around his eyes that showed all the laughter from years past, his eyes that were dark enough to be considered black and his broad dark cheekbones, his natural olive complexion even seemed perfect in this light. I'd spoken to him on the phone about songs and confirming details for this new album, but I hadn't seen him in at least a year. It was always different when you saw an old friend in person.

I hadn't realized how much I missed him until he was right in front of me.

Interrupting my thoughts, Cash pulled a pained expression and announced, "I know it's a touching reunion and all, but I'm going to drop you in a second."

Rolling my eyes, I tugged on the ponytail that was holding his long dark curls back before untwining my legs from around his waist. With the help of Cash, standing straight again should have been a graceful action. As it happened, he simply let go and I stumbled against the ground that came up far too quick, only saved from smacking my ass into the pavement by my arms that were still hooked around his neck.

"God, you're such a jackass," I complained when I'd regained stable footing, but I still couldn't wipe the smile off my face. It was even evident in my voice. Letting my arms drop away from his neck, I hit him on the chest for good measure, informing him, "You're not supposed to let the girl fall on her ass, you know."

He raised his eyebrows and answered pointedly, "You're not my wife."

"Oh, yeah, how is the marriage going?" I questioned, straightening his shirt that I'd managed to twist about him in my excitement.

"Probably not well once she hears about this," Cash replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Ah, don't worry, I'll kiss her too when I see her," I promised, sending him a cheeky wink. "How is Terri? I've missed her."

 The smile he'd been wearing changed at the mention of his wife of three years. The one he'd had fixed on me had been jovial, but what it transformed was into something that seemed to capsize his entire face, making the expression soften and brighten all at the same time. It really was quite amazing at what just the mention of Theresa's name could do to him. I wasn't surprised though, it had been like that for years.

And I couldn't blame him, if I was into women she'd be one of my first choices. Theresa was a brilliant drummer, and she had the most knowledgeable ear for punk rock than anyone else I'd ever met, which made her band the best underground thing going at the moment in Philadelphia. It went to show just how cool she really was that having a three year old daughter didn't even take away her punk rock credit. She wasn't beautiful in the most traditional sense of the world, but she had a sort of impish mischievousness that was part of her charm, which was far more important than society's version of beauty. I would have liked to say we were similar, but the end of our similarities was being musicians.

Not the least of those differences being I had more of an ear for melody, I was singer and guitarist while she was a drummer, not to mention that she was a humble nice human being. Those were some blaring differences, though I liked to think we were similarly fierce when it came to ideals.