The Fisherman's Daughter.

Chapter 4

Present day: Winter 1992; Seattle, WA.

Maybe Layne's and my timing will never be right, I think to myself as I sit in his car. The rain is streaming heavily down the windows as I watch the storefronts fade as we pass by. I turn to look at Layne. The golden yellow street lamps illuminate his handsome face. He looks tired, almost solemn. He has always had a darkness, it lingers in him and he tries to fight it with his playful demeanor and humor. But when you are alone with him, it shows.

I reach over and put my hand on his thigh. He places his hand on top of mine and our eyes meet. He gives me a slow, sexy smile then turns back to face the road.

This Layne makes me nervous. I know how to handle playful, sassy, horny Layne but introspective Layne is the one that owns my heart.

"Why didn't you want to ride with me?" He finally asks and looks at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. In the brief moment that our eyes meet, I can see that his pain is back and he is fighting to push it back down.

Trying to lighten the mood, I say, "don't you remember the last time I was in your car?"

He smiles to himself and replies quietly, "remind me."

I smile to myself at his comment because this has always been a game of ours. Since we were young Layne would make me invent stories about strangers we would see on the pier. He'd turn to me and say, "now tell me what their story is," pointing at an older couple on a bench or a solitary man strolling along the boardwalk. Layne has always loved my stories.

"Once upon a time..." I begin and he chuckles.

"I was seventeen and you were twenty-one. You were in this dumb band that I can't remember the name of and you guys were just starting to get noticed." He laughs when I say, "dumb band."

"I hadn't seen you since the summer before." I trail off and he looks over at me. He smiles slightly, still looking ahead at the road and raises the hand that I have on his thigh to his lips. He kisses my finger tips then sets my hand back down on his thigh. He continues to drive with one hand on the wheel and his other hand holding mine.

"Go on," he adds.

"I missed you so much. And Erik had told me earlier that you were going to be back in town and playing at that shitty Oz nightclub. I convinced my girlfriends that we had to see you guys play and made one of them drive us to Seattle that night." I laugh remembering the shit I said to get that girl to drive us.

"I didn't expect you to see me or even recognize me that night. My plan was to just watch you, hear your voice, then go home. You took the stage then pointed to me in that packed, sweaty club. I couldn't believe you saw me," I pause, and look out at the city--distorted by the rain streaming down the window.

He squeezes my hand lightly. "I remember looking out into the crowd and seeing your beautiful face staring back at me. At first I thought you weren't real, that you were just a  figment of my imagination. Because I think I see your face in those crowds every night but I know you aren't there." Layne says, his voice low. I squeeze his hand and we sit silently together.

After a moment he whispers, "keep going."

I realize tears are starting to well up in my eyes. I brush them away quickly and continue. "After your set you found me in the crowd and brought me backstage to meet your band. You pulled me to you and I thought you were going to kiss me but instead you whispered in my ear and told me that I needed to go home. You said that you would drive me back to Erik's place. I was so disappointed, I thought that maybe this time would finally be the right time for us."

Layne doesn't say anything in response to my last comment. And I sit quietly for a moment, gathering my memories.

"You took me out to your car  then handed me your keys. You told me I would have to drive us back to Erik's because you had been drinking. Once we got to Erik's house, we sat in your car with the windows down. It was a cool fall evening and the leaves were rustling on the ground. I so badly wanted to kiss you and feel your skin. I finally got up the nerve to lean over and press my lips to yours." I feel Layne's hand start to sweat on top of mine as I relay this memory. I know I have a boyfriend and I shouldn't play with fire here, but I can't stop now.

"I leaned over to you as you sat in the passenger seat and brushed my lips against yours. You fisted your hands into my hair and deepened the kiss. You pulled me on top of you and I reached into your pants to feel you harden under my touch." I notice Layne and I are parked on the street near the bar where Tom's afterparty is being held, but he is silent and unmoving; he is waiting for me to continue our memory.

He turns to face me as I continue to tell the story, his eyes unwavering from mine, "I was wearing a short dress with buttons down the front. You unbuttoned the top buttons to expose my breasts and I unzipped your pants. You pulled down my lace panties and I took you inside ---"

Our memory has been interrupted by someone suddenly knocking on Layne's driver side window.

"Jesus, fuck," he mutters and rolls his window down slightly to see who it is. "What the fuck do you want?" Layne asks.

"Um, excuse me sir, this is valet parking for the Hyatt and..."

I start laughing uncontrollably and he turns to me and smiles. "Fucker really ruined that for me," Layne says to me with a wide grin.

"Sorry, about that man, I'll move." Layne says to the valet. He starts his car again and pulls away from the curb.

"This town is changing so fucking fast I didn't know this shitty block has a Hyatt now," he adds with a laugh.

Layne re-parks down the road then turns to me and says, "I think now is our right time, Ana."