The Siren's Code

Paradise times

The days passed and Cassie couldn't be happier, her mornings were spent getting fit, learning to surf, and let's be honest, hanging out with Jay. She had stopped drinking so much in the evening – so she could get up early – and her rum and coke belly was turning nicely into more of a not quite six pack, she looked down, tensing her muscles. Her bingo wings were non-existent for the first time in her life and there was a little definition to her arms. Looking good girl!

She knew the community, could wander round Paradise, the town, anywhere and bump into people she knew. Hang out and have a chat at the Rincon Coffee bar or sit on her favourite log on the beach with the gentle breeze of the morning or evening. Feeling like she belonged, not some awkward outsider who stuck out like a well, awkward outsider. It didn't feel odd to strike up conversation in her still pretty terrible Spanish, in fact instead of speaking English back now most people helped her along. Working in the restaurant was fun and the tourists looked up to her like she was the font of all knowledge, a bit of a joke but she certainly knew more than them when it came to island stuff, and she liked it.

Careful ego, you may get too big, she told herself as she checked the mirror for bogies before heading out to get to work, she remembered that terrible film her Dad had made her watch the one with that actor, oooh who was he, the guy from that other film her Dad loved. She smiled as she remembered times they sat watching all her Dad's favourite 80's films, bestowed on her as if they were lessons in life. Anyway Withnail and I that was it, Richard E Grant, and the film with the ego... How To Get A Head In Advertising, the guy's egotistical side started as a boil on his neck and then became a head and took over, so Cassie put you ego back.

I'm just thinking I'm happy, she told her annoying inner self as she pulled on her Ugg's and headed out the door.

//////

Jay was setting up the stage for the fortnightly music night, testing the instruments, having his only personal jam, it was sort of open mic for passing musicians but he was the star of the show, of course.

The tables on the raised corner of the restaurant were cleared by the time Cassie got in and the stage set, speakers either side, a few mic's, a couple of amps and an array of instruments. There was the Yamaha weighted keyboard which Bear could play anything from Kraftwerk to the Piano Man, sometimes she would hear him just losing himself as he played, it brought out a soft side to him, the keyboard always stayed there for impromptu sessions with willing guests – some better than others.

Sam played the cajon box, this was noteworthy – no need for a drum kit at all. Although he had taken to wearing first aid tape on his fingers as they took a battering, but he was good.

These guys knew how to play, Cassie expected they had put in their ten thousand hours, a figure she always felt seemed substantial, she did the maths in her head, if you practised something every day for two hours, which... seems quite a lot for most, it would still take you around fourteen years to be considered 'good'. Or maybe she had that wrong, she didn't know. It just seemed unobtainable – maybe that was why they were good and she was rubbish at anything like this at all.

Bear was tuning the red and white Strat, the instrument that got the most adoration from nerdy musos as Cassie saw it, Jay on her favourite guitar the Taylor an elegant lady compiled of different types of wonderfully rich wood, which he often used a slider on for that real country vibe. But they both could play most other things from percussion, harmonica, a bit of fiddle, and the ukulele when the crowd was being particularly difficult, not to mention the washboard, seriously.

As he was ad libbing his way through the soul of 1950's America, Jay stopped.

"Cassie come here a minute this needs a girl's voice."