But even people who have been paid to remain silent inevitably talk, and I fear such talk will get back to Teri and Matt. But since I never gave them my address in the countryside, they have no reason to connect me to the rumors going around town about the “house that got hit by the meteor.”
I sort of like that rumor.
I wonder who started it?
My new home is a single story, a spacious rectangle, also located in the woods but hidden in the trees, with no view of a lake. It already possesses a lead-lined vault, which I have stocked with enough weapons to repel a small army. By coincidence, I now own a Gatling gun that is identical to the one that destroyed my original home.
Sigh. That was one toy I could not bear to let the police take.
Teri and Matt arrive on time, at three, on a Tuesday afternoon. We have a late lunch of swordfish, which I grill out back beside my Olympic-size pool. Now that I no longer have a lake to leap into, I enjoy the pool. Swimming is my favorite exercise. Naturally, my liver and leg wounds have totally healed. I don’t feel so much as a twinge when I do my hundred laps each morning.
I have told Teri and Matt to bring their bathing suits, and it turns out Matt is every bit the athlete his girlfriend is. He could never compete against me, of course, but I note how hard he has to swim to get out of breath. He is competitive when it comes to Teri. The two race before we eat, and he makes a point of winning each lap. Teri sees it all as good fun, but I notice he doesn’t. The guy does not like to lose.
I soon find that to be true when it comes to arguments.
Teri’s eyes often stray to his well-muscled body, and I must say I find myself looking at him longer, and more often, than I should. There are no two ways about it—the guy is hot.
I’m careful not to let Teri catch me looking.
After we swim and eat, Teri tries talking Matt into singing a new song he’s working on. He refuses; he won’t play without an instrument. But when I just so happen to find a guitar in my closet, he has no excuse. He tunes the instrument with his feet in the water but then stops.
“I didn’t know you played,” he says to me.
“I dabble.”
“This guitar is tuned perfectly. You have a good ear.”
“Thanks. What’s your song called?”
“‘Mystery Mind.’ But it’s rough.”
“It’s fantastic,” Teri mutters.
Matt strums a few chords and begins to sing:
You’ve moved through time,
And left behind the masses in your wake,
You loved me then, you love me now,
You’re always there to take
A diamond is an easy find, compared to what
I’m calling mine,
The ages leave the smallest clue,
To roads untouched, but never true
Where to find this mystery mind? The Gods
confide in you.
I need your answer. Call my name. Abandon
guilt, Abandon shame,
And when you take my outstretched hand, by simple
nod or love’s command,
I’ll wrap you in eternal flame, our hearts to fuse,
one and the same
I tire of my shattered pace,
I reach to feel love’s one true face,
I fear I failed to take heed of your first and final signs
Walk with me, at least pretend,
To hell’s back door around the bend,
We’ll crush the darkness as it sleeps,
And leave the waking world to mend
Where to find this mystery mind? The Gods
confide in you.
I need your answer. Call my name. Abandon
guilt, Abandon shame,
And when you take my outstretched hand, by simple
nod or love’s command,
I’ll wrap you in eternal flame, our hearts to fuse,
one and the same
When Matt finishes, Teri applauds and gives him a kiss. I see how much he looks to her for approval. But I can only gaze in silent amazement. I feel the song is about me, for I often feel trapped in an endless mystery of time, in Krishna’s own mind.
“Awesome,” Teri exclaims. “I love how you changed around the second chorus. You didn’t just repeat the first round.”
“I changed it while driving here,” he says, before turning to me. “What did you think? You can tell me the truth. I know it’s rough.”
“I think it should be played on every radio in the country.”
“Me too,” Teri adds.
“Get off it,” Matt snorts.
“I’m serious.” I suddenly stand. “I know people in New York and LA. At three of the majors: Atlantic, Sony, Geffen. I bet I could get you an audition with that one song.”
I make the offer knowing I’ve already vowed not to help them with their lives. So much for vows—I’m much too impulsive to take them seriously.
“Why should they audition me?” he asks.
“Because I know them,” I reply.
“How?” he persists.
“I’ve got money. Money opens every door. Look, I’m not trying to trample on your male pride. I can only help you get your foot in the door. Your song still has to knock them over.”
“Would he have to record it first?” Teri asks.
“It wouldn’t hurt to walk in with a demo of what we just heard. But it’s not necessary. You’ve got charisma, Matt. They’ll see it. If I was you, I’d let me make a few calls and then get on a plane tomorrow.”
He shakes his head. “The song is brand-new. I can’t go into a major label with it. It needs work.”
“You have a dozen songs you’ve worked to death,” Teri says. “Take Alisa up on her offer.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Teri gets impatient. “What’s there to think about?”
He gives her a look. “Lots of things.”
I hold up a hand to stop the argument from happening. “Just tell me when you feel ready,” I say.
Matt continues to fiddle with the guitar. I can tell he loves it. Later, I’ll have to figure out a way to give it to him. While he strums the instrument, I ask Teri to take a walk with me. The official reason is to explain her job responsibilities, but I can feel she wants to talk. We hike through the nearby woods. They feel so peaceful, yet I keep alert, listening for the slightest sound that would tell me we are being followed.
“I don’t know why he cut you off like that,” Teri says after we’ve hiked maybe a quarter of a mile. “I hope you didn’t feel he was being rude.”