The rest of the day was spent adding the few embellishments to Kat’s dress.  I had my music cranked high and I was in creative Zen mode.  The heavy fabric felt like a living entity in my hands and I once again I was filled with joy at being able to do what I truly loved. 

            I thought about Kei Matsuya.  There was no denying the man had definite magnetism; even over the phone his voice felt like leather gloves over my bare skin.  I’d have to have been dead not to respond to it.  However, as enticing as the man was, there was fantasy and there was reality.  Fantasy allowed for the two of us to meet, talk about clothes then give into mutual lust.  Reality threw ice cold water on that scenario.  The man was a musician, and I’d heard enough of those stories to know few of those relationships ever lasted. 

            On the other hand, I really wasn’t looking for love.  I was happy in my single state.  Kat didn’t believe me, but that was no surprise.  Most of my friends wondered why I had no interest in the dating game, and I was tired of answering them.  In their minds, 40-something and fabulous obviously meant fabulously married with kids.  It was difficult for them to understand why I was satisfied with my life.

            As if on cue, Matsuya’s blistering riffs erupted from my Harmon-Kardon speakers as the sonic bombast of Moonspell practically shook my loft with the force of six-point magnitude earthquake.  Miki Hirata’s voice came in, matching the frenetic charge of the blistering licks and pounding percussion.  I started banging my head in earnest, wailing at the top of my lungs.  The music raced through my blood as I worked.  I was on an absolute high.

            Hours later, I was finished.  I was going to call Kat, but I wanted to savor the moment alone for a while.  Kat was going to be a smash.

            Speaking of smashed, the massive energy rush I’d been working with immediately put on the brakes and I was drained.  A long soak and an early night were in order.

            When I was a teenager, my parents took me to see a French film called Diva.  It had a black opera star whose biggest fan was a lowly bike messenger.  I’d always liked the film because it had a an interracial couple in it and I liked it because one of the characters, a cool but slick con-artist named Gorodish had this amazing Left Bank loft and the claw-footed bathtub sat practically in the middle of it.  I’ll never forget the scene where his partner, a Vietnamese femme fatale named Alba roller-skated around him while he sat smoking a Galouises in the tub.  I promised myself when I grew up I would have a place just like that.

            Flash-forward a decade or two and my dream became a reality.  Like my bedroom, there were lacquered Japanese screens, but I preferred the open space for the tub.  The windows were like huge skylights and I was too far off the ground for it to be worth a peeping Tom trying to get their jollies, though I’d certainly give them something to get happy about.

            The claw-footed tub was one of my pride and joys.  I found it at an estate sale and bought it for what some would consider highway robbery, except the man who sold it to me did so because he saw how much pleasure something so simple as a bath would be to me.  In exchange, I designed an Edwardian tux that he chose to be buried in.  Some people thought that was rather morbid, but as he said, one must look nice in the afterlife.

            As I ran water for my bath, thoughts once again drifted to Kei Matsuya.  Kat’s dress was done.  There was no reason I couldn’t take the man up on his offer now.  It would certainly give me bragging rights, my name associated with one of the biggest bands in music.

            Okay, if I was going to say yes to him, then we needed to seriously discuss some ground rules.  Matsuya needed to know right off there was room for only one diva, and he wasn’t going to be it.  He also needed to know that I didn’t appreciate back-seat tailors or wannabe fashion critics.  Lastly, the man needed to understand that I wasn’t superhuman and though I was fast, if he expected miracles, he would have to talk to god.

            On the flip side, would it really be worth my sanity to deal with him, much less his band?  Thus far I’d kept my sanity rather intact by not dealing with bad attitudes and ‘I want it yesterday’ types.  Then again, Matsuya might take one look at my ideas and decide they wouldn’t work.  No harm, no foul.

            As the tub filled, I added my favorite aromatherapy bath salts to the water.  The calming lavender and melissa fragrance filled the space around me, instantly relaxing muscles that had been tensed up from being in one position for hours.  Shutting off the taps, I went into the kitchen to pour a glass of wine then padded barefoot back into the bathroom.

            I stripped quickly, leaving my clothes on the floor in the corner and stepped into the tub.  Sinking down into the water, I sighed blissfully as I took a sip of wine and let the soothing heat and scent take me away.

***

            The next morning, after a quick shower and breakfast, I dialed Matsuya’s number.   The phone rang once, twice, three times, then a sleepy and very sexy, “Good morning, Miss Vincent.”

            “Eva.  If we’re going to work together, we might as well be on a first-name basis.”

            “Eva,” he said with that sleepy rumble.  “And you must start calling me Kei.  Mr. Matsuya’s my far more traditional father who hates my life but loves the money.”

            “Well, Kei.  I guess you know why I called.  I’m not promising anything, but I’ll take you up on your offer, for a consultation only.”

            “Fine.  I’ll expect you here on Friday, then?”

            “Make it Saturday.”

            “Oh, and by the way, I hope you don’t have a problem with haunted houses.”

            Well, that came from out of nowhere.

            “I can’t say, Kei, since the only one I’ve ever been in was at Disneyland.  Are you trying to tell me that you live in a haunted house?”

            Kei chuckled darkly.  “Of course.  He’s not harmful though.”

            “He?”

***

            I don’t remember much of the conversation after that.  Kei had to be kidding about the ghost.  I knew rock stars had their quirks, so I figured this was just one of those rock star things, like David Bowie being Ziggy Stardust, Jimmy Page living in Alistair Crowley’s old house or a preacher’s kid named Vincent turning into Alice Cooper.  Whatever, ghost or not, I had a job to do.

            “Oh my gawd!  Oh my gawd!”

            I winced and stuck my fingers in my ears when I told Kat that I was headed to San Francisco to meet up with Kei Matsuya this weekend.  She came over for the final fitting and almost stepped on the train while jumping around like a demented jack-in-the-box.

            She gave me a huge hug.  “I am so happy for you, Evie!  You’re gonna knock his socks off, I know it!  You’re going to be like the Bob Mackie of metal!”

            I just rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help but share her enthusiasm.  “Not all that.  I don’t even have any ideas yet.  It’s just a consultation, you know?”

            “But you’re going to stay in his house!  With him…alone!  You lucky bitch!”

            “Kat, I’m not going up there to get laid. This is strictly work-related.  Nothing else,” I insisted as I cinched the back of the dress while making small adjustments to the fit.  Kat yelped and smacked me in the head.

            “Dammit Evie, I can’t fucking breathe!  Loosen it up a bit, will ya?  Just because you like being tied up doesn’t mean everyone else does!”

            I gave her an ‘excuse me’ look.  The woman had been a former Domme after all.

            “You should be used to it.  Besides, I used flexible boning so you’ll be fine.  Stop being such a weenie!”  I smacked her back.

            “You can’t tell me that you haven’t even thought of doing the nasty with him, right,” Kat teased with that single-mindedness I knew well.  “The man is sex on two legs.” 

            “Fine, he’s eye candy.  But it’s work, that’s all.  Besides, he’s got plenty of women throwing themselves at him.”

            “Yeah, but they’re not you.  You’ve got looks and brains and talent.  He’ll fall head over heels in love with you.”

            “Okay, now you are losing what little mind you had.  And stand still, I’m almost done.”

            After another Kat whirlwind, I fell into bed totally exhausted.  The phone rang, and I wasn’t inclined to answer it, but I did.

            “Yes?”

            “Good evening Eva?  Are you busy right now?”

“Actually, I was headed to bed.  I had a fitting today and I’m toast.  What did you want?”

            “Nothing really, just wanted to talk.  Get to know you better.”

            “Not to be rude, but can’t it wait until I’m somewhat awake?”

            “Why? Afraid that you might say something scandalous?”

            “Like that I think you’re sexy?  Fine, I said it.  Can I go to bed now?”

            Kei growled deeply and my nipples suddenly hardened.  “I like you already, Eva.  I like a woman who speaks her mind.  How about if I told you I liked your picture more than your designs?  How about I can’t wait to have you gracing this big house of mine and that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you here as long as I can?”

            Now I was fully awake.  “Mr. Matsuya, are you flirting with me?”

            “It’s what I’m good at.”

            “And what else are you good at?”

            “Well,” Kei drawled slowly, lovingly. The man was good.  “Besides being a guitar god, and being a consummate showman, I’m extremely good at pleasing people.”

            That was unexpected.  Kei said people, not women.  Interesting, maybe there was truth to the rumors after all.  Not that I had any problems with that.  “You’ve had a lot of practice.”

            “True, but practice doesn’t always make perfect.  That’s why I want you to capture my sexuality, the band’s sexuality.  I want you to make us so alluring, so erotic.  I want you to create something that moves with us, makes the fans want to rip our clothes off…”

            Damn the man!  That voice coupled with that face wasn’t helping my body.  This was getting way out of hand.  Still, it was fun to play around a bit.

            “That’s kind of a waste of my talent if I make something that makes people want to tear it to shreds.  Can you imagine my having to repair the damage every night?  I hope you’re planning to pay me for that.”

            “Of course.  But I said, make the fans want to rip our clothes off, not that they’d get close enough to do so.”

            “But you must also be able to perform in it as well.  Form and function and all that.”

            “Of course. But remember, it’s the sex that’s most important.  What rock and roll is all about.”

            The funny thing was Dominion’s End was a serious progressive metal band in spite of all the outward trappings.  Then again, whoever said you couldn’t have one without the other?  Hell, I’d seen Dream Theater enough times to know that virtuosity was no substitute for a good show.  Queensrÿche back in the day totally understood that, though the idea of duplicating Geoff Tate’s pseudo-Bride of Frankenstein hairstyle on Kei just wasn’t going to work.

            “What are you thinking about Eva?  Me?”

            I snorted. “Gawd, are you vain or what?  Do you think every woman wants you?”

            I could feel the silky smile sliding across his perfect lips.  “Only the babies and the dead ones don’t.”

            “Well,” I said, actually enjoying the flirting back and forth, “I’m not a baby nor am I deceased, and while I definitely think you’re nice piece of ass to look at, I’m certainly not going to fawn over you.  You’ve got plenty of people to do that for you.”

            “I’ve got to say Eva, you’re good for my ego.  Maybe having you visit might teach me a little humility.”

            I yawned.  “That I seriously doubt.  You have a very healthy sense of your own personal godhood.  And now, Kei Matsuya, I am going to bed.  It’s been a long day and I’m not like you rock stars who stay up and party all night.”

            “Lucky bed,” Kei practically purred into my ear.  “Got room enough for two?”

            I just couldn’t help it. “As a matter of fact, I’m sharing my bed with something long, hard and takes three D batteries.  And the best part is that ‘he’ doesn’t smoke after sex or ask if it was as good for me as it was for him.”

            He laughed again.  That laugh was going to seriously be my undoing.  “Touché, my dear Eva.  And on that note, rest well.”

            “You too.”

            I hung up and realized with some dismay that my body was tingling all over.  It made no sense; we didn’t have phone sex. It was just silly flirtation, and yet Kei Matsuya’s voice in my head slid over my naked skin like soft water.  No wonder he had the reputation he did, if he could get me hot just by talking.

            To take the edge off, I reached under my bed for my trusty toybox and gave myself some happy relief.  I also made a note to myself to bring one along, having the feeling that I just might need it.

            I also realized that I hadn’t asked him about the ghost.

            Thursday morning I lazed around in bed, enjoying the fact that I had nothing pressing to do today save pack and get on the road.  Knowing SoCal traffic like I did, the best time for me to leave would be around noon.  If all went well, I could get into Santa Cruz around early evening. 

            I’m one of those women who pack light.  Jeans, t-shirts, comfortable shoes because I also wanted to do some sightseeing, and just in case, a vintage-styled black corset dress that had been one of my first creations and which I would never part with.  It was a classic piece and looked great dressed up or down.  I also packed a pair of black vintage granny boots that were around eighty years old. They had been my great-grandmother’s and the fact that they fit meant they had been meant for me, or so granny said.

            I went into the bathroom and grabbed my travel case filled with toiletries and the basic makeup items that I used.  I even managed to pick out three lipsticks rather than taking every single one I owned.

            With that done, I showered, dressed and made myself a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast.  I planned to get road food on the way up, then stop at a Denny’s or something for dinner.  Before I left, I called my parents and left a message as to where I was going.  I also left a message for Kat, then grabbed my mp3 player and the car adapter.  After all, every good road trip needs a soundtrack.

            By noon, I was out the door and on my way.

            It was one of those rare summer days after a rain where all felt right with the world.  After stopping in Little Tokyo to grab munchies from Nijiya Market and topping off the gas tank of my black Sentra, I was on my way down the I-5 to the 152 West, which cut through Gilroy and met up with the 156 then the 101 into Santa Cruz. 

            I had the mp3 plugged in and cranked up to near-blasting as the miles evaporated to the sound of an eclectic mix of old-school metal, 70’s funk, some Bad Brains, some David Arkenstone and of course Dominion’s End to make any cop who might have stopped me scratch their heads in confusion. 

            As I drove, singing (or what Kat said sounded more like two cats in heat while fighting) at the top of my lungs, I once again marveled at the scenery of the state I’d lived in all my life.  I was right smack in the midst of the San Joaquin Valley, known as ‘the breadbasket of California’ with its miles and miles of farms and orchards and the California Aqueduct making it all possible.  I wondered about the people, and I promised myself the next year I’d take another meandering road trip just to sate my innate curiosity.  These trips also helped spark my creative juices.

            Several hours later, give or take a few rest stops to relieve my bursting bladder, I made it into the bustling beach town of Santa Cruz.  For some perverse reason I started humming the song from The Lost Boys, since it had been filmed here.

            I drove until I found the cute B&B I’d stayed in a few years ago called The Babbling Brook Inn.  Thankfully I’d made reservations ahead of time, but the inn was one of those well-kept secrets off the beaten track. Between the comfy featherbeds and the tranquil sounds of the creek and waterfall, I was ready to relax for a little and enjoy the calm before the storm.

            Later that night after a yummy meal at The Santa Cruz diner where I ordered a big bowl of Vietnamese Pho and some spring rolls (yes, at a diner that served hamburgers and hot dogs), I unwound in the whirlpool bath as darkness closed around the redwoods and the aptly named babbling brook lulled me into sweet dreams.

            Then my cell phone rang.

            “Good evening Eva, how are you?”

            I was drying off and placed the phone on speaker.  “Your timing is impeccable, Kei.  It seems you always manage to call me when I’m in bed or headed there.”

            “That’s because I like to imagine you naked.”

            “Oh please,” but the comment made me blush.  “All these compliments aren’t going to make me more pliable if we decide to work together.  I am a professional.”

            “I expect nothing less, Eva.  Teasing aside, I am happy that you’re willing to at least meet with me. And obviously you’re not scared of ghosts.”

            “Should I be?  You’re not talking poltergeist, right?”

            Kei was matter-of-fact about it.  “No, Shane doesn’t throw things.  He just sits and looks at me with those accusing eyes of his.  Sometimes he actually speaks.”

            I knew the name.  “Shane was your first bass player. He committed suicide, right?”          

            “The same day Dominion’s End was signed, our manager Tsuchiya told me that the label thought Shane was a liability and that as leader, I needed to let him go.  Shane happened to overhear us talking and when he asked me, I didn’t say a word.”  Kei grew quiet, his typical joie de vivre and flirtatiousness all gone now.  “Later that night, I got a call from his girlfriend that Shane was dead.”

            What does one say to something like that, so I remained silent until he was ready to continue.  “We all knew Shane was wild, and we all knew about the drugs, but he was always able to maintain.  I mean, he did show up late to a few gigs, but he never missed a note and any crazy stuff he did on stage looked like it was part of the act.”

            “Were you really going to let him go?”

            “Of course not,” and I believed him.  “Shane was headed for rehab because he’d finally gotten tired of the whole thing.  He was like my brother, like family.  I never gave up on him.”

            The silence between us hung in the air for a little while as I digested his story and his belief that he was a haunted man.  Stranger things happened in life, but I’d reserve judgment until I was there.

            “So tell me,” as my curiosity about him reasserted itself.  “Did you really date a porn star?”

            His melancholy seemed to lift then and the sexy mischief-maker came back.  “Yes I did and Melina Drake was a very classy and intelligent woman with a very wicked sense of humor.”

            “That must have gone over real well.”

            “Tsuchiya threatened to quit and I told him go right ahead.  I mean, we were a lot more discreet than most guys at that time, but I didn’t try to hide it.”

            I stretched out like a contented cat on the big, fluffy bed.  “What about your fans?”

            “Are you kidding?  Sales of her movies went up like 500 percent!  Besides, name me one rock star back then who didn’t date a stripper or a porn star?”

            I took the bet.  “Jon Bon Jovi.  He married his high school sweetheart.” 

            He laughed.  “Damn, are you like some walking encyclopedia of metal or something?”

            “Can I ask you something really personal, Kei?”

            “Go ahead.”

            “Are you really bisexual?”

            Without the slightest hesitation Kei answered, “I am.  I hope this isn’t an issue with you, Eva, considering the fact that you’ve put men into some of your gowns.”

            I instantly put him at ease.  “No, it’s not an issue.  If you really want to know, the bi guys I know are far more secure than a lot of overly macho straight guys.”

            “I most certainly am, Eva,” Kei replied without a hint of arrogance.  “The way I see it, I’m still a man regardless of whom I’m attracted to.  Besides, it just makes it easier to find dates.”

            I chuckled.  “True.”

            “Since we’re being truthful, I have to say that I’m very eager to meet you in person.  I have no doubt that you are the right person to create something unforgettable.  Even Miki’s interested in meeting you, but I’ve got to warn you he’s a flirt.”

            “A bigger flirt than you,” I said wryly.  “That’s almost hard to believe.”

            “It’s true.  I might have to keep you away from him.”

            That was interesting, but I wasn’t coming up there to be in the middle of a testosterone-laced tug of war.  I had a job to do and made that perfectly clear. “I’m here to do a job, that’s all.  And I have a personal aversion to dating rock stars.”

            Kei didn’t seem fazed by my words.  “I understand, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make an effort to change your mind a little.”

            “Do your best,” I muttered.  “I’ve been on the road all day.  I’m going to sleep now.  I’ll see you bright and early Saturday morning.”

            “Good night then, and pleasant dreams,” Kei murmured huskily.

            Yeah, right.

            I spent a relaxing day in the vibrant beach town, strolling and shopping and of course, the famous Santa Cruz Boardwalk.  I rode the classic wooden rollercoaster three times and ate cotton candy.  I also found an art store and purchased a sketchpad and charcoal.  A vague idea as to what Dominion’s End’s new look might be tickled my consciousness and I wanted to get it down on paper.

            I had an early dinner and called it a night.

            The phone rang again.  It had better not be him.  Geez, he was worse than some love-struck girl.

            Thankfully it was Kat.

            “Are you there yet?”  She sounded like a little girl.

            “No, I stopped in Santa Cruz.  I’ll be there tomorrow.”

            “I just wanted to tell you Dragon is in love with the dress and he wants to marry me in it and we’re headed to Vegas after the convention and I’m sorry that you’re not going to be there but…”

            She was speaking so fast and all I could do was grin.  “I knew my dress would be a hit, but I wasn’t expecting that.  I’m so happy for you guys!”

            “Me too, and I’ve already gone through nine boxes of books. My hand is cramped from all the autographs and the place is packed!  I’ll send you pictures!”

            Before I could say anything else, Kat chatted on, “I’m headed for bed but I wanted to tell you everything and you better call me when you meet Kei Matsuya tomorrow or I’ll never speak to you again!”

            “I promise.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”