The wonderful, familiar sensation of fine wood on his fingertips made James’ body tingle, as he took his acoustic guitar in his arms. He hadn’t practiced in almost a week and had missed it. But, he couldn’t help but remember his last practice session. It was on the night he met Olivia.

“Forget about her, James. She was an illusion: nothing more.”

Gazing out to the horizon, he started playing, “Always Somewhere”, an old, famous ballad by the Scorpions. There was a special melancholy in that soft tune. The slow, melodic guitar introduction, accompanied by Klaus Meine’s majestic voice, had always enthralled him. More than that, every time he played it, James felt like he was being pulled away from his reality, to a place where he could be alone with his thoughts, without having to worry about anything or anyone. Right after the first chorus, he tore his gaze away from the view and looked left. Helen Weir had just parked her blue, pickup truck and was about to get out of it. James did not stop playing. He was enjoying the moment so much that he even hummed the lyrics. He forced his gaze away from the road and looked ahead, down at the forest slope, where he had rescued Olivia.

“That’s where it all began.” He thought to himself, finishing his performance with a downward strum.

“Great tune.” Helen chirped, easing down two, large bags of groceries. “Is it new?”

“No.” James snorted, amused by her ignorance. “It’s old: very old. I wasn’t even born when it was released.”

“Oh.” She gave a gasp of surprise. “My folks and I haven’t seen you in a week. We got a little worried, to be honest.”

“Thanks, Helen.” He spoke in a lazy tone, looking up at her. “I’m fine. I was in the city. How much do I owe you?”

“They’re on the house.” Helen replied, a glimmer of embarrassment in her dark-blue eyes. “I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“Don’t be silly, girl.” James narrowed his eyes, putting his hand in his pocket. “How much is it?”

“$82.19,” She muttered, as her pale cheeks flushed.

“Here.” He said, handing her two, fifty-dollar bills. “Keep the change: for your trouble.”

“I can’t t…”

“I insist.” He put a little force in his voice, holding the money up in the air. “Grab a stool, will you? I need to ask you something.”

“Thanks a lot.” She smiled down at him. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Ah, Helen… She’s such a sweet little girl. A bit of a pain sometimes; she talks a little too much, but nobody’s perfect.”

“Okay.” She chirped once more, taking her seat beside him. “Shoot.”

“Why do people keep hurting each other so bad, Helen?” His question froze the smile on her face. Her puzzled expression and her prolonged silence brought a fainter one to his. “Let me tell you why, girl. We think too much or too little. Either way, we screw things up in the end.”

“Interesting,” she commented as a hesitant smile spread across her face. “Listen, I already know the answer to this, but I’ll ask anyway. We’re throwing a retirement party for my father tomorrow night over at “Brown Oak” bar. Are you coming?”

“Thanks for the invite, Helen,” he assumed a stiff tone, “but no.”

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Helen sighed, a touch of disappointment in her voice. “I have to get back to the super market. Let me know if you change your mind, ok?”

“Will do,” James said with a nod. The young, tall blonde was making her way out of his front yard, when Rick’s black, luxurious Mercedes pulled up to his cabin. Clearly impressed, he kept staring at her, as she crossed the street. In fact, Rick liked her so much that, as soon as he stepped into his friend’s yard, he looked over his left shoulder and watched her drive off.

“Sweet ass,” he silently mouthed to James, turning his attention to him. Under any other circumstances, James would have laughed, but not this time. It was not like Rick to visit him so often and the last time he was there, things almost spun out of control.

“You look like shit.” Rick remarked. “When was the last time you slept?”

“What the hell are you doing here, Rick?” James groaned. “Are you spying on me or something?”

“Look, I just drove a hundred fucking miles.” Rick spoke in frustrated tones. “The least you can do is to try being polite. Did you sleep last night: at all?”

“Sorry, man,” James said, dragging his gaze away from him. “No, I didn’t. How could I?”

“I hate to break this to you, big man.” Rick drew in a sharp breath. “But you have to. The Adams chick signed a contract this morning. The bosses want to celebrate tonight. We’re invited.”

“Oh, crap,” James whispered, dropping his forehead into his hands. “Man, they never invite me to any events. Why’s this time any different?”

“It’s Peterson.” Rick responded. “He wants you to watch over Adams.”

“What am I; her father?” James wondered.

“Peterson said – and I quote – ‘Michelle thinks pretty highly of him. She won’t do anything stupid with him around.’” Rick smirked.

“So, you had to drive here all the way from New York?” James asked, rising from his seat. “That’s what phones are for, you know.”

“I just thought you could use a friend,” Rick cajoled, making his voice sound sweeter. “You’ve been through hell lately. Now, go get some sleep. Dinner’s at eight. I’ll wake you up at five, alright?”

“Thanks, man.” James gave him a smile, patting him on the shoulder, moved by his words. “I’ll try. I promise.”

In spite of his doubts, he soon discovered that he was too exhausted to stay awake. Emotionally drained and in dire need of some rest, James fell asleep within minutes, with Olivia’s smiling image still lingering in his mind…