One Bride for Five Mountain Men

“I don’t know. Isn’t that what rockstars are supposed to do?”

“But I’m no rockstar. If I recall what Mickey said a few hours back, I am just the ‘damn guitar player’ in his band.” Arsen was trying to laugh it off in a sarcastic way, but Rory knew this was no joke to him. She stayed silent, not sure what to say.

“Wine?” Arsen asked, after he had already poured out two glasses for them. “Here’s to us lowly guitar players.” He raised a toast after handing Rory her glass. Both of them walked silently to the window to look upon the celebration and the people who seemed to be having a great time.

“You’re right. I should be out there having the time of my life. I mean, how fortunate am I to live in this mansion and do the kinds of thin

gs that I have the privilege of doing? Not many people get so lucky.”

They both stared out in contemplative silence before Rory spoke up.

“Definitely too lucky for a bartender,” she smiled.

“You and Don have been gossiping, I see.” He smiled back.

“A little bit, yes,” she said, with a guilty smile.

“It was just a job I took when I moved to LA. It can be pretty overwhelming at first, that big city of dreams. I was naive then. The thought of paying my rent and worrying about food and shelter used to scare me to death.” Arsen’s voice was soft, contemplative, as if a movie of his past was running through his head.

Tell me about it, Rory thought as reminders of her own struggles appeared in her head.

“I don’t know if I could do it again if I had to. It still surprises me that I went through so much for this dream… but I guess we all are foolish in our youth.” He smiled.

“Or brave. Do you really think that we all could go through hardships and end up at the top? Heck, I’m an LA native and even I still find the city intimidating. So much so that I ran away to the safe shelter of Montcove.” Rory had never admitted it to anyone, not even to herself at times, and somehow she was telling it to Arsen.

“Everything is supposed to be so perfect in that city. The people, the restaurants, the cars, the… everything. I mean how do you compete with that? It’s difficult to hold yourself up to those standards.”

“I know what you’re saying, Rory. I liked to think of myself as a pretty confident guy, till I set foot in LA. I remember my first gig at The Troubadour in Santa Monica. I threw up right when I was about to go on stage. I thought everyone would hate me and laugh at my ’70s sense of style.”

“But they didn’t, and now here you are.” Rory raised her glass.

“I guess I got lucky.”

“Or did you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you stuck to your beliefs, right? You dressed how you wanted and stuck to the kind of music that you wanted to play and people accepted you as you are because you’re genuine. You didn’t try to fit in with what was in fashion or make the kind of music that was in vogue and rightly so, you got your reward.”

“For someone who doesn’t listen to my music, you seem to be well aware.” Arsen raised a brow.

“Well, the internet is a magical thing,” Rory smirked, not revealing anything more, leaving Arsen to wonder about it on his own.

“Maybe you’re right,” Arsen said after a few moments. “Maybe they accepted me ‘cause I stuck to my guns. But it is no fun bleeding for your dreams, I tell you. I remember going to sleep hungry at night. That, most certainly, is not fun.” He was trying to joke about it, but Rory could tell that the thought still gave him nightmares.

“And now you are here at this wonderful party, in this lovely villa and it is all about you. Isn’t that a great rags-to-riches story?” Rory clinked his glass and Arsen smiled in return.

“Quite a motivational speaker, aren’t you?”

“Hardly,” she replied. A motivational speaker who can’t set her own life straight.

“I was feeling pretty blue since this morning. The usual band troubles… you know. That’s the reason why I’m not out there. I was afraid I’d end up getting into a fight with Mickey. But talking to you has made me forget the color blue. Thank you for that.”

Arsen lifted her hand and turned it over, kissing the palm of her hand softly. Rory was not expecting it and neither was her body. An unexpected jolt went through her as Arsen’s soft lips and coarse stubble caressed her fingers gently. She froze in place and felt that now-familiar heat come alive in her. He raised his eyes and looked right at her, a smile slowly spreading on his face. Does he know what I’m feeling?

Rory was sure that her face was flushed, but she instantly tried to compose herself and change the topic. Thankfully, she didn’t need to.

“And what about you? What is it that you are willing to struggle for?” Arsen asked.