Page 27

BY AURORA ROSE REYNOLDS AND JESSICA MARIN

GAVIN

I drum my fingers against the car door panel, impatient energy coursing through my veins while watching the outside scenery pass by. Sosie, my assistant, is driving us to my show tonight, and for some reason, I feel nervous. My pre-show jitters are usually due to the anticipation of the high I get while performing, so this nervousness is a foreign feeling. Maybe it’s because I’m tired. Yesterday was a long day with continued interviews and time spent in the studio working on a song for another artist. I didn’t get home until close to midnight and crashed as soon as I turned the lights off.

“What’s up with you?” Sosie asks, giving me a strange look out of the corner of her eye. She notices everything, so I know I won’t be able to weasel my way out of this unwanted conversation.

“Nothing. What’s up with you and those bags under your eyes?” I question with concern as I study her more closely. She has her hair up in a messy bun and her thick red glasses on, but those glasses only accentuate the deep purple bags underneath her blue eyes. Something is going on with her that she’s not sharing. When I’m in the studio working for other artists, Sosie isn’t on the clock, meaning she was done working for me yesterday after lunch. What she does with her free time is her business, but when I see her not looking well, I make it a point to make her personal time my business.

“Always deflecting, but it won’t work this time, Gav. I’m not answering your question until you answer mine.” She gives me a sweet, fake smile before turning her attention back to the road.

“Fine,” I mumble, caring more about hearing what’s going on with her than my own nervousness. “Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. For some reason, I’m nervous.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You’re like the Tasmanian Devil over there.” I follow her eyes to my left leg bouncing rapidly up and down. I place my hand on my thigh, mentally forcing it to stop. “But you’ve performed numerous times at the Bluebird. Why would this time be any different?”

“Possibly because this is a private event being held by another record label.” Their people will be watching me… judging me , I think but don’t say out loud. I shouldn’t be nervous. I practically lived at the Bluebird Cafe when I first landed in Nashville. It’s the place to play when you’re a songwriter wanting to get noticed. It’s an extremely small venue, capacity of only 90 people, making the audience seem like they’re right on top of you. Food and beverages are served while the crowd listens to singers belt out their songs. The Bluebird has launched the careers of some of today’s most famous singers like Taylor Swift and Garth Brooks. You can feel how special the place is the moment you walk through the doors.

“People are watching and judging you every time you walk on stage though,” she reminds me.

“True.” I sigh, not really wanting to psychoanalyze my mood right now.

“Maybe subconsciously, you’re anxious because you know when your contract is up with the devil, you need to change record labels, and Big Little Music could potentially be your future home.” I chuckle at her calling Atticus Langston the devil. From day one, Sosie saw right through his weaselly charm and loves telling me, in her heavily laced sarcastic voice, that she prays for my soul every day.

“I don’t think so. For one thing, I like being with a big label, because they have more dollars for marketing and advertising.”

“That actually isn’t true anymore,” she informs me quietly. “I know you’ve heard how Big Little Music’s artists love being with them. Plus, they’ve landed some pretty big names for not being a more well-known label.” She starts rattling off the names of their well-known singers, surprising me with not only their lineup of talent, but her knowledge of who they have signed. When Sosie first started working for me, she didn’t know shit about this industry. Not that it mattered to me—I was just trying to get her the fuck out of California and away from my toxic aunt and uncle. Since working for me, she has taken her job as my assistant very seriously, immersing herself in the industry, studying the ins and outs of it and who the big players are.

As I let her words settle in, I realize she might have a point. For a small label, Big Little Music has created quite the reputation for themselves. For one, they still care about their artists and not how much money they can get out of them. They are the total opposite of Charisma Records.

Up-and-coming artists like myself don’t usually get signed by labels like Charisma. They already make enough money on their current catalog of talent and don’t need or want to take a chance on nobodies. The only reason I got signed is because I wrote a hit song for Tori, who ran home and told her daddy about me. I highly doubt she raved about how truly talented I was—more like she wanted to keep me around and happy so I could write more songs for her. Fortunately, I signed only a single album deal with Charisma. Yes, it sucks big giant, Texas-sized balls that they get to own the rights to my songs for ten years, but that’s the price you pay when you sign on the dotted line sometimes.

We pull into the parking lot behind the Bluebird. Since there are no dressing rooms for artists to wait in, most just arrive at their designated time slot or hang out with other performers in the back by their cars. I wave at a couple people I recognize as I get out of the car then retrieve my Martin D28 acoustic guitar from the back and start to warm up while standing there. Sosie always makes sure we arrive ten minutes before call time, which I know is padded with a few extra minutes. Once I’m warmed up, I head over to a group of people gathered near the back door.

“How’s the crowd tonight?” I ask, greeting Scotty Wilkins with a pat to his shoulder. I’ve known Scotty for years and have even wrote a couple songs with him. Despite his overinflated ego, he’s a good guy.

“Great crowd tonight. I might stick around to make myself available, if you know what I mean.” He winks at Sosie, who responds by rolling her eyes in disgust at him.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, man. My cousin would chew you up and spit you out.” I give him a cold smile, hoping he catches my warning when our eyes lock. I know Sosie can handle herself, but I can’t help the protectiveness I feel when it comes to my baby cousin. Anyone disrespects her, they’ll answer to me.

Scotty chuckles and shakes his head while smiling. “You know, it’s pretty awesome how tight you two are. I wish I had that family dynamic.” For a moment, something that resembles sadness flashes in his eyes, but Scotty is quick to blink it away and go back to his usual cocky self.

What was that all about? Not that he would tell me anyway. We aren’t close, nor will we probably ever be. I purposely keep my circle close and tight. In this industry, I’ve learned you don’t know what people’s motives are, so it’s best to keep everyone at a distance until they prove themselves to be loyal.

“A couple of us are getting together next week to jam. Look at your schedule, and if you’re free, come join us. It would be worth your time.” Having worked together before, Scotty knows how I operate. For him to say it would be worth my time piques my interest. I look over at Sosie, who nods at me while typing notes in her phone to check my schedule.

“I’ll text you tomorrow with my schedule and you let me know where and when,” I tell him, trying to remember what’s going on next week. If I recall correctly, it’s a slower week, with the end of the month being crazier.

“Good luck in there tonight,“ Scotty says with a nod at me. He pats me on the shoulder, waves at Sosie, and heads toward his car to leave.

“So much for him staying to make himself available,” Sosie snarks sarcastically while watching him drive away.

“You like Scotty Wilkins?” I narrow my eyes at her, trying to gauge her reaction to my question. Sosie has shown zero interest in anyone since moving to Nashville. Her douchebag of an ex-boyfriend did a number on her, so it isn’t that surprising to me that she’s so standoffish when it comes to the opposite sex.

“Seriously, what is wrong with you tonight?” She huffs in annoyance, my smirk only seeming to rile her up even more. “That question doesn’t even warrant a response. Get your head out of your ass, because it’s time to perform.” I laugh at her not-so-motivating pep talk and follow her up to the back door.

We check in with the staff and wait for them to signal me through. I hear the audience clapping and see the performer who was just on stage walk back to us. I smile in acknowledgment at her and then start walking when she’s cleared the hallway. Once I appear into the main room, I keep a smile on my face, my eyes trained on the stool for me to sit on. The room is silent, no one applauding in greeting, because the rules of the Bluebird Cafe are that you are here to listen and immerse yourself in the experience and emotion of the songs. No one gets rowdy here. No one gets up to dance. This is a true, musical experience of listening and dissecting every word and meaning of these songs.

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Gavin.” Introductions are always informal at the Bluebird, because here, everyone is on equal ground. Doesn’t matter how many accolades you have on your resume—we are all songwriters in this room, just trying to make a living doing what we love. My eyes scan the room, noting the heads nodding in recognition at me. I flash a genuine smile in their direction, forcing myself to hold it steady when noticing how many record label executives are here, some of them less than three feet away from me.

Calm the fuck down, Gavin , I tell myself after I talk about the background of the song I’m about to sing. I try to get into a comfortable position, placing my guitar on my thigh, take a deep breath, and close my eyes. I go through my meditation of zoning everyone out before internally repeating my personal motto:

You deserve to be here. Now show them why.

I peek down, watching my fingers strum the introductory notes to the very first song I wrote for someone else called “Needing You Now.” My eyes slide closed once more when I start to sing, letting the familiar chords of the song wash away my nerves as I begin my tale. I open them again so I can find that one focal point to concentrate on when I need it.

As I sing the last line of the first verse of the song, my eyes suddenly do a double take when they land on the face of one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at. Long, black lashes surround brown eyes the color of whiskey. Her face is lightly tanned with a dusting of natural-looking makeup brushed effortlessly across her face. Her hair seems to be the color of caramel, long and falling in waves down her shoulders. Her eyes are warm, inviting me into their abyss as everyone else starts to slowly fade away.

My mind screams at me not to blink, that she might be a figment of my imagination. As I start into the chorus, the emotions of the words force my eyelids shut, feeling the desperation of wanting that special someone to love you, support you, be there for you. I chose to sing this song tonight because of the power of its meaning and the emotions that it should evoke from the crowd.

My mind still pictures her as I sing out a long chord. My eyelids spring open, seeking out those stunning eyes as I mentally count the three beats of silence before continuing to the end of my narrative. I watch her expression as my voice registers up into my vibrato and an overwhelming need to impress her comes over me. Her eyes widen as I hit my note, her luscious pink lips parting in awe, telling me that I just nailed the ending of the song.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest as I stare at her while the crowd loudly cheers. I slowly start to smile at her, enjoying seeing her cheeks pinkening. She’s sitting close enough that I can see the pupils in her eyes dilated from what I hope is pleasure. I reluctantly break our eye contact to acknowledge the crowd, thanking them before continuing to talk about the next song I plan on performing.

As I get ready to move on, I know right then and there she’s going to be the one I sing to for the rest of my set, and I don’t give a fuck if people start talking about how I’m staring at her like a creeper. I want to watch every single expression that crosses over that angelic face of hers. I start the chords to my next song, not even needing to look down, because the encouragement from her eyes is all I need. All I want.

This woman has captivated me like no one else has ever before.

I need to know the identity of the woman I can’t take my eyes off of.

With our gazes locked together once more, I can’t help but wonder who she is. Her attendance tonight means she’s either in the industry or associated with someone in the industry. Please, dear Lord, if she’s associated with someone, let it not be a husband or a boyfriend. The only other person at her table is another woman I don’t know.

I look to see if I can spot a ring on her left hand when she takes a sip of whatever she’s drinking. Her hand is bare, and I can’t contain my smile knowing that the chances of her being married are slim without the hardware on. My only obstacle would be if there’s a boyfriend, and it would be surprising if there wasn’t. Most women who look like her are always taken, but then again, most women who are taken don’t look at strangers the way she’s looking at me.

She seems to be just as enthralled with me as I am with her. When I sing a seductive verse from my song, she rewards me with a sexy smirk that makes my dick instantly harden with want. I start to feel overheated and know damn well it isn’t from the lights. This woman better be single, because my body is now buzzing with adrenaline, and a different kind of anticipation is now coursing through my veins.

I’m going to make that girl mine.

As soon as the song ends, I grab a bottle of water and take a big gulp from it, my eyes never wavering from hers. I need to figure out a way to meet my mystery lady fast. I’m the last performer of the evening, and with this being an industry event, hours of socializing afterward usually occur. I have to talk to her before that happens and rapidly get her number, since we won’t have any privacy once I’m done performing.

I’m about to sing my last song for my set and decide to change things up and sing the song I wrote for Tori, “Thief of My Heart.” I see disappointment touch her eyes when I announce this will be my last song for the evening. Lord help me if this woman is as sweet and delectable as she looks, because if so, then I might just have to put myself out there.

* * *

ALY

Stop staring at him, Aly!

He’s going to think you are some pathetic psycho if you don’t stop.

Wait, is he staring back at me?

Oh my God, he is!

I don’t know what the hell is going on, but since the moment I locked eyes with Gavin McNeer, I haven’t been able to look away. I’ve been staring at him for the last twenty minutes, infatuated with his voice, his eyes, his face… all of him. My body feels alive with a connective energy flowing between us, and with the way he’s smiling back at me, he’s either feeling it too or having pity on my poor, delusional soul.

You’re crazy! my mind screams at my heart, and with the way my sister, Valerie, is looking at me when I glance in her direction, she’s thinking the same thing.

I can’t believe this is the first time I’m noticing him, really noticing him. It’s not uncommon for songwriters to become performers, so Gavin hasn’t really been on my radar the last two years. I’ve heard about his reputation as the gorgeous-as-sin songwriter from Austin who’s extremely professional and talented. But any interest I had of learning more about the sexy Texan died when I saw the headlines that he was dating Tori Langston. This industry is small, and especially here in Nashville. We’re all on pretty good terms, so everyone knows what a snake Tori can be.

When the gossip mill ran rampant about how and why they broke up, I didn’t even bat an eyelash, because honestly, I wasn’t surprised. I also couldn’t care less. I have no desire to get caught up in the rumors, and sometimes, this industry gets a little incestuous with who dates who, which is another reason why I’ve stayed away from dating anyone in the business.

I take the opportunity to let my eyes wander while Gavin explains the next song he’s about to sing. Pictures really don’t do this man justice. They don’t capture the sparkle in his green eyes when he looks at you or how his smile can be adorably crooked. You definitely can’t appreciate from photos how well his clothes mold to his body. His short-sleeved T-shirt is white with a special low-cut V-neck that shows off his sternum, giving you a peak of a hard, muscled chest underneath. You can tell he’s tall by how long his legs are, which are encased in dark denim that clings to his hard thighs and have stylish slits on his knees. His clothes might be plain, but I have no doubt there probably designer labels.

I don’t spend too much time assessing his body, because as soon as he starts singing again, my eyes are drawn right back to his handsome face. I become enraptured with his performance and start to daydream he’s singing to me and only me.

“Why is he staring at you like that?” Valerie whispers in my ear while she nudges her elbow into my side once he finishes his song. “It’s creeping me out!” I look at her and just blink my eyes, not understanding how she thinks he’s creepy when all I see is how beautiful he is. She gives me a wide-eyed look and mouths, What is wrong with you?

I wish I had an answer for her, but for the life of me, I have no idea what’s wrong with me. I’ve never reacted to someone this way before.

Snap out of it, Aly! He’s just a man.

Yeah, a man who rattles my nerves by just looking at me. I turn my attention back toward him when he announces he will be performing his last song for the evening. I suddenly start to feel sad, as if this will be the last time I ever see him again, which is ridiculous, since we don’t even know each other. He starts playing the first chords of “Thief of My Heart,” and once again, his voice floods my senses and he weaves a dream around me with his lyrics.

You’re the one for me.

I’m coming for you.

I’ll steal your heart.

Run away with me.

Forever.

I keep my eyes locked on his as the song becomes a tale of broken promises and hearts. Then, all too sudden, the song is over. I look around the room in a daze, seeing everyone on their feet, applauding. Then it dawns on me that every other woman is staring at him the same way I am. It’s as if we’ve all been possessed by the devil himself. A devil we’re all ready to sin with. Seeing their reactions snaps me out of my trance, and I start to wonder if I imagined how he was looking at me.

Don’t be a fool , I tell myself, annoyed I let my mind wander for a man I’ve never even met before. I have zero clue as to what kind of person he even is. I give my head a shake and stand up to leave, telling myself that none of this matters anyway. He’s a musician, and therefore, these silly fantasies of him will stay just that. Fantasies.

“Ready to go?” I ask Valerie, who’s still looking at me with concern. She nods and we grab our purses off the back of our chairs to leave.

“Excuse me,” I hear a husky voice say, making my head snap up to confirm who I hope it is. Gavin is standing in front of me, his height causing me to look up into his mesmerizing eyes. “Call me,” he tells me in a commanding voice, handing me his card. My eyes widen in shock, causing his serious expression to change into a devastating smile. “Please?” There’s a plea to his tone that turns my insides into complete mush. He’s robbed me of my voice, so all I can do is smile back at him and nod. His gaze flashes briefly to my lips before looking back at me with apologetic eyes as people begin to approach us.

Soon, he’s lost in the sea of bodies surrounding him, and I know our moment is gone. I clutch his card in my hand and turn to leave, shaking my head at my sister when she narrows her eyes at me and starts to open her mouth to ask questions.

“Not here,” I interject with a stern voice before I turn away and search for the exit through the crowd. Just when we’re about to clear the front door, I hear my name being called. I turn around to see Shane, my boss, coming up behind me, motioning for me to meet him outside. With an unfamiliar pit in my stomach, I walk toward the end of the building to wait for Shane.

“Did I just witness Gavin McNeer giving you his card?” he inquires, staring me down with inquisitive eyes. Crap, if Shane saw that, then that means other people might’ve too.

“He sure did,” Valerie answers for me, her gaze mirroring Shane’s. Both of them cross their arms over their chests, and I know there’s no way I’m getting out of this conversation right now.

“Do you know him? Because the way you two were eye-fucking each other all night long made even me feel uncomfortable.”

I can’t contain the blush that flushes up my cheeks from Shane’s words. The evening air is cool, but just the mere thought of being in any kind of sexual position with Gavin is causing me to sweat.

“You’re being dramatic.” I wave my hand out in front of me, trying to downplay this situation, and the two of them just roll their eyes at me. “And no, I don’t know him. Tonight was the first time I’ve ever seen him.”

“And it looks like it won’t be the last!” Shane breaks into an evil smile, rubbing his hands together as if he’s coming up with a secret plan.

“He’s a musician!” I sigh. “I’m sure he gives his card out to every single lady he thinks is pretty.” I dismiss the two of them as I start to dig into my bag for my keys, not wanting them to make such a big deal out of something that probably doesn’t mean anything.

“Actually, he doesn’t,” a voice comes up from behind us, startling me. I turn around to see a pretty blonde with a messy bun on top of her head and chic red glasses that match her lipstick standing next to us. She has startling baby-blue eyes that have a hint of annoyance to them. “Giving out his card to anyone,” she says as she looks me over, “is something he doesn’t do. In fact, I’ve never seen him give out his number to some random girl before. Regardless, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Gavin wanted me to remind you to call him later.” She looks me up and down one more time before leaving without even introducing herself. Can we say rude ?

“Wow, she’s rude.” Valerie huffs as we watch Gavin’s messenger walk back inside the cafe. “Shane, do you know who she is?”

“I think that was his assistant, who’s also his cousin. I always see her with him when it’s work related. Who cares about her?” He groans. “Can we talk about how he sent her out here to remind you to call him not less than ten minutes after he gave you his number? That’s hot!” Shane grips my forearm and squeezes, excitement radiating from his eyes. “You better do as he says and call him tonight.”

“You know the policy, Shane,” I remind him with a knowing smile. “No dating anyone in the industry.”

“Rules are meant to be broken. Besides, that policy is for dating within our own company, not within the entire music industry!” He places his hands on his hips when I shake my head at him. “You listen to me, Alyson Marie Dawson…”

“Her middle name isn’t Marie,” Valerie tells him, and my lips twitch at seeing a what the hell expression on her face.

“I’m sure it isn’t, but since I don’t know what her middle name is and I’m trying to be all parental on her right now, Marie sounded good,” he explains in exasperation, causing me to chuckle at how ridiculous he’s being. “Listen to me, Alyson whatever-your-middle-name-is Dawson! You have got to stop letting these opportunities pass you by! First Brodie and now Gavin? Child, are you insane ?” he screams the last word out.

“Can you lower your voice? You’re causing a scene!” I hiss at him, not wanting the attention his shouting is bringing our way, judging by the looks we’re starting to receive.

“All I’m saying is that you need to live a little and see where this goes. You may have just met your soul mate.”

“Soul mate?” I scoff. Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes at him.

He throws his arms up in irritation. “Valerie, can you please talk some sense into your sister?”

“Nope, I actually agree with her. I don’t think she should call him. He’s a musician, meaning girls throw themselves at him and he will also have to tour eventually. I don’t approve of a long-distance relationship for my baby sister,” Valerie states firmly, looking him in the eye to show how serious she is.

“Thanks for being supportive there, Val,” Shane says with heavy sarcasm. “Side note—I’m really digging this hot-for-teacher look you’ve got going on with the sexy glasses and high ponytail. Too bad you’re going to look this way when you’re ninety and single with that kind of attitude!”

Even Valerie can’t contain her laughter at that comment. I do have to agree with Shane though on the subject of how my sister looks. She has a certain sex appeal in her work attire. She’s gorgeous with her light-blonde hair and ice-blue eyes—the complete opposite of what I look like. Nobody guesses we’re sisters when they first meet us, but our bond is as tight as if we were twins.

Shane looks between the two of us, shaking his head in silence. “I’m done with this conversation, as it’s giving me heartburn and now I need a drink.” He gives Valerie and me a kiss on our cheeks and looks one more time at us both. “It’s a shame, really. Two of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen, single as the day they were born. Aly, I do hope you change your mind about calling Gavin. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, he leaves us and goes back inside.

Valerie and I walk to our cars in silence, both of us deep in thought. Shane’s words repeat over and over in my brain. What do I have to lose by calling Gavin? Sure, it goes against my policy of not dating musicians, but every cell in my body is screaming that he seems different and to give him a chance. The memory of his handsome face with those intense eyes demanding I call him causes me to shiver, a smile creeping up on my lips, because I actually liked that he demanded I call him.

Give him a chance, Aly! You’ve got nothing to lose.

Oh sure, just my heart if he breaks it into a million pieces.

A phone call is harmless and doesn’t mean anything.

“You aren’t seriously going to call him, are you?” Valerie’s question interrupts my internal debate with myself. I look over at her to see she’s waiting outside of her open car door, and I realize we didn’t even say goodbye to each other, since I was lost in my own thoughts. I take a deep breath and flash her a bashful smile, knowing she isn’t going to like my decision.

“Of course I am,” I confirm, giving her a playful wink. Feeling high with adrenaline and confidence, I pull out my phone and type in his number. While his phone rings, I blow her a kiss goodbye and get into my car to start the engine. My Bluetooth picks up the call and I start to think I’ll be leaving a voicemail when he suddenly picks up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Gavin? Um, hi, this is Alyson, the girl from the Bluebird Cafe,” I say, trying to sound somewhat cute and not like a complete dork. “The one you gave your card to,” I remind him, hoping he hasn’t been handing his card out like candy on Halloween night.

“Alyson,” he repeats my name in his deep voice, and a chill slides down my spine. “Do you go by Aly?”

“Yes,” I rasp out, my voice shaking a little at my nervousness. “Most people call me Aly.”

“Well, all right then… Aly.” Why does my name sound so exotic coming from him? “I’m sorry if you can’t hear me very well. I’m still at the Bluebird. Can I call you when I get home?”

“Oh right! I’m so sorry. Your assistant demanded I call you, and she’s a little scary,” I joke while I smack my hand against my head for being the dumbass I am. Of course he’s still at the Bluebird, since it hasn’t even been five minutes since I left. Why didn’t I think to wait to call him?

Fortunately, he’s chuckling at me and I marvel at the sound. “I hope she wasn’t rude to you. Sosie’s always pretty serious.”

“No, she wasn’t rude at all.” I grimace at the lie. “Call me whenever you get a free moment. I should be up for a while. I mean, call me another day or whenever,” I stammer, rolling my eyes at myself for how stupid I sound.

“I’ll call you in a little bit, darlin’. Get home safe and I’ll talk to you soon,” he tells me before saying goodbye and hanging up.

“What an idiot you are, Aly,” I groan out loud, mad at myself for calling him so soon and seeming desperate. Knowing there is nothing I can do about it now, I turn on the radio, hoping it will distract me from my thoughts of Gavin.

I pull into my driveway fifteen minutes later and I go inside. I feed my cat before putting on my pajamas. After I wash my face and brush my teeth, I look at my clock and see it’s only 10:00 p.m., so I decide to get into bed and continue reading the current book I’m obsessed with. Apollo joins me and curls into my side. I check to make sure my phone is on full volume and not on vibrate so that I won’t miss Gavin’s call. With my phone settled next to me on the nightstand, I lie against my pillows and start to read.

Two hours later, the words are starting to blur together and I’m afraid that if I don’t go to bed soon, I will be jolted awake by my Kindle smacking me in the face. I put it aside and reach for my phone. Disappointment rears its ugly head as I see how late it is and he hasn’t called me back like he said he would.

“Chin up, Aly. Don’t waste any pretty breaths on him,” I tell myself, repeating the old motto my mother used to say to me when a boy I liked didn’t like me back. I turn my light off and settle into the covers, praying that a certain green-eyed devil doesn’t occupy my dreams.

* * *