I pushed off of the sliding glass door and ran upstairs, starting the shower. I hurried through it, threw on jeans and a cute yellow t-shirt with puckers and some bling, some yellow earrings, and a black hoodie. My hair was too much. I parted the front and pulled it to one side, letting it hang artfully and then grabbed the rest of the huge curly mop into a gigantic pony tail on the back of my head. I had yellow sneakers to seal the deal and then I ran out to my yes--- yellow Beetle bug.

He was waiting outside. He was dressed so inconspicuously, I knew he'd really had to downplay his looks. He wore jeans, some kind of dark T under a black hoodie, with a turned up outer collar, and he had a beanie in hand. He wore dark glasses, and with his facial hair, trademark if you actually already knew who he was, but if you didn't he could pass for anybody.

He got in and grabbed his seat belt. "You a safe driver?"

I gave him a look meant to quench his concerns and saw that he was joking. "Too bad."

I grinned. "You look conveniently camouflaged."

He shrugged. "You look like a bumblebee."

I was slightly affronted and wished I'd added red somewhere. He patted my leg as I shifted and laughed.

"I'm excited. Where are we going?" He asked that pertinent question and I gave him another look that told him effectively I wasn't planning on telling him. He shrugged again, looking slightly nervous. "I don't really know you. You could be kidnapping me."

"Right 'cuz I'm a secret serial killer of famous rock stars."

"Are you?"

I nodded big and winked. "Yeah, that's me,"

"Guess you haven't seen my videos. I write and direct them mostly myself. You'd see into my mind if you watched them."

"Are you a secret serial killer?"

He chuffed, then ran a hand across his mostly bald head where now a very, very tiny amount of hair was starting to grow in. "Maybe scared of that side of myself." This was said so seriously I actually got a chill.

He burst out laughing.

"But you had thought about it, right? Being out with me?"

"No." I admitted. I hadn't thought about what if he was a secret serial killer. Maybe I should have, that was likely. I don't know his character, but I'd been out with plenty of guys that I just met-- over the years. Church dances, young adult activities, all kinds of stuff. But they were-- well-- of a like mind shall we say?

"I guess you should have thought of that." He warned and then gave me his hand, and because I had shifted all the way to five as I cruised onto the freeway I took it and he laced our fingers. He pulled my hand to rest on the gear shift, his fingers palm up. He smoothed his thumb over my skin causing shivers to race up my arm.

"You have a lot of schooling, huh?" he asked conversationally.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"How many years?"

"Roughly thirteen." I answered with as casual of a voice as I could muster. It was a lot of school.

He whistled under his breath and turned very admiring eyes on me. I was flattered.

"So, you got a BA in..."

"Really? You're interested? Did you go to school?"

"Really! I am interested. And yes, I went to North Carolina School of the Arts. Four years."

I was impressed. "But weren't you guys a garage band?"

"Yes, we were, but after a year playing fairs and local gigs and getting absolutely nowhere, we all split up and went to school. It was only logical. Nowadays, everything depends on that paper."

I agreed. "Interesting. You did what it takes. Very cool."

"So....?"

"I graduated high school at sixteen with my college generals done. I went to BYU Idaho for Biology and graduated with a BA at nineteen. Then med school for four years, general surgery for five and pediatric surgery for an additional two. Now working on the neonatal specialties fellowships."

"Oh my god, that's a mouthful. You sound like that girl on Private Practice--- Addison, do you watch it?"

"I've seen her on Grey's Anatomy. Addison Montgomery. There's not really a double board certified specialty like the one she reportedly has. And she'd be a lot older than what--- thirty-five? Average age for that kind of level is like forty-seven."

"You're pretty young then."

"I graduated early from high school and BYU. I was already heading in this direction. It was what I always wanted. My mom had vaginal surviving non-complication seps naturally. Kind of drew me to it."

"I caught like one word of that--- vaginal--- of course." He laughed screwing up his eyes apologetically. "Can't help it, I'm a guy--- that part is always interesting."

I took a deep breath. "Yeah."

"Oh, don't go getting all prudish on me. You know that's what's on the mind of every guy around you. Nobody who looks as good as you can not know...."

I glanced at him and our eyes met. There was that very telling moment when he realized that I did not think of myself that way at all, and did not suspect that the only thing on his mind was sex. His eyes widened and his mouth closed into a thin line. I pondered his lips carefully--- maybe full, but thin on top... or pliant with a full--- never mind. Suffice it to say I could see he was surprised, and a little chagrined.

We pulled into a residential area very close to the water, and he sat up and began looking around with real interest. "Venice beach." He breathed. He gave my free hand a low five. "Nice thinking. Good choice."

I was not naive enough to think he'd never been there, I knew full well he was born and raised right here in Long Beach. I was sure he knew Los Angeles better than me, but he maybe didn't have the connections I had here. I pulled carefully into Parker's driveway and cut the engine. I didn't think he was home. I mean--- even in the state--- that kind of home. But I had a key to his condo.

Rafe was looking around carefully, noting everything with those expert observational skills of his. I knew he was surprised. He followed me inside and straight into the garage, again surprised that we weren't going all the way in. I hit the garage door button and it lifted. In the corner as I'd known they would be were two of Parker's six segways. Interesting--- somebody else must be out on the boardwalk tonight. I checked my phone and thought who it could be. I didn't have any messages, and Parker's car wasn't in the garage... nobodies car was.

Kids. Danny's kids. Likely. They lived here part of the year--- not here in this house, but here in So Cal.

I tossed Rafe a key, and a helmet. He put it on with a grin, taking his hoodie off and tying the arms around his slim waist. "Whose place is this?"

I started mine and stepped up. "My brother Parker's. Not their home base, but one of their places."

He was nodding, adjusting his helmet, a look of delight on his otherwise extraordinary features. We raced out of the garage and down toward the pier. As we got closer, we were joined by other segways and skateboarders. We rode single file till we got to the booths and then stopped and locked up so we could grab a bite. True to his word, Rafe insisted on paying for my dinner. We ate shrimp noodles and egg rolls and then got back on the segways and tootled around, looking at things. There were a couple of eclectic solos or duets, a band in one area where people could actually sit and listen, and it was obviously quite liberal and gay friendly these days I noticed, having not been down here for about a year.

Rafe wanted to play for awhile on the segway and we found an area where he could explore it, do tricks if that were possible. We laughed a lot. The Ferris Wheel lit up at night and we locked up to go over there, standing in line talking about nothing for about an hour.

Now I should mention that Ferris Wheels make me sick. I can ride any roller coaster in the world, but this whole suspended backward thing gets to me. This Ferris wheel is an older one--- it doesn't offer anything crazy like some of the newer ones, so I thought I could handle it. The breeze off the water was amazing. We'd both put our hoodies back on and as we got in our cart Rafe relaxed back and put his arm up behind me, surveying the landscape from up here, as we stopped and started to let others on and off.

"So, why are you actually home and free this weekend, Mr. Stryker? Aren't you supposed to be out partying with the band? Gigging somewhere?"

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and then curled his hand around my shoulder, pulling me a little closer, ready to make sure I heard what he was about to say. His scruff actually grazed my ear, and I shivered.

"Does your mom gig all the time?"

"My mom only performs at benefits these days."

He grunted and then laughed. "Okay, you got me there. Well, we have a tour planned for the summer—May till August. Then some studio time in October and November. Then.... yep, off in December, and I facilitate on my talent search TV show January thru June-ish. Take care of my businesses then too, and do little gigs here and there. Been on this schedule about ten years now."

I nodded. For a few seconds he'd sounded like my mom on New Year's Day at three p.m. when we had family council and she handed out the schedule notebooks. It was seriously the only way these big name artists could survive. I was glad--- very glad--- that their life wasn't my life.

He actually hadn't answered my question. But he said: "What about you? Got any babies coming this weekend? Can you like not go very far from the hospital or something?"

I let my eyebrows waggle at him. "There is a baby in the NICU with possible heart surgery this weekend. If I get paged I will have to leave."

"Is that what you do? Heart surgery on babies? For some reason I thought you said neonatal... gobbledygook! Didn't know you did surgery."

I took a nice long breath and blew it out. "Well, yeah. I didn't explain it all to you. Not sure a guy with a bachelor's in what--- vocal performance?--- would understand."

"Ouch." He tapped his fingers on my shoulder. "Really ouch."

"I guess I've learned over the years. When people ask those kinds of questions, they really just want to know what's on the books right this minute, what terrible tragedy is about to happen?"

"That's harsh, Aubrey. Harsh."

I twisted my neck to look over the side of the cart away from him, his response hitting a nerve. The image of that little tiny baby boy in my arms still too fresh and too heart breaking. It took my breath, and filled my eyes unexpectedly. His palm cupping around my shoulder brought me back to the present as we crested the top and stayed there, swaying in quite a brisk wind. My stomach did a couple of flip flops, and I silently prayed that was all it would do. Being backwards, and alone at the top here was my worst amusement park nightmare.

"Did I mention I'm scared of heights?"

"Get out! Really?" He leaned forward to see my face and I had the awful impression that he would tease me now--- start the cart to swinging or something horrific.

"Yeah, really. Have been since I was a kid. But I am tough. I'm just slightly white knuckled. It's not bad enough that I can't face it."

"You mentioned that your inspiration for becoming a pediatric surgeon, with certification in maternal- fetal medicine and whatever else you are certified in that literally makes me weep for joy at the sound of it-- anyway, you mentioned that your inspiration was your own siblings. Have you actually delivered more than twins?"

"Oh. Yeah. Yes, I have."

"That lived? I mean, I am under the impression that all the multiple births the world is experiencing these days are due to fertility drugs and things like invitro-fertilization."

"Oh, well, there is definitely an upswing in fertility treated multiples. Modern medicine has made it possible for so many miracles. But no--- the first recorded quads were born in the late seventeen hundreds in Ireland. We don't know how long they survived."

Now he was eyeing me in keen interest, cupping and re-cupping his hand on my shoulder, and taking my other hand in his reassuringly. "The seventeen hundreds! That's amazing. Quads? That's four, correct? Were they boys or girls?"

"The records aren't clear. Names are often interchangeable and not applied directly to sex like Mary or Jane would be a girl, etc."

"Hm... Mary and Jane could be considered a fun party mix, that's for sure. I bet you don't indulge either, do you?"

I knew exactly to what he referred, but I gasped as the carriage lurched even higher and I felt my breath come short.

Rafe's eyes were watching me astutely. "Om... would I be familiar with any of the babies you've delivered? No? Did you help on that girl in England that was such an uproar a few years ago?"

I drew in my breath in relief, as I concentrated not on the rocking carriage but on Rafe's question. "No, I didn't. I was still in school, and wouldn't have been consulted anyway. Octo-mom was a disgraceful handling of an impossible pre-term labor and delivery of eight dead babies."

"Oh ho, you sound disgustingly annoyed by that case. Was it that badly mishandled?"

I glared. "Well, first of all, she was not a good candidate, had a history of preterm labor. She was fertility treated and insisted on embryonic implantation for too many eggs, signing an agreement that said she would use selective reduction to save the most viable fertilizations and then she refused, basically dooming all her children. And she went into labor at nineteen weeks. Not possible really to survive without major defects at that stage. Then when a few were able to survive temporarily--- she wanted custody and to take them home---." I chewed my lip.

Not everybody shared my opinions about invitro fertilization and extreme multiple implantation and selective reduction. It sounded too close to abortion--- and I am not in favor of abortion, but in the case of Mandy Allwood, the octo-mom that made bookoo bucks off her case when all her babies died, it just felt wrong.

Rafe's hand tightened around my shoulder, and his other hand slipped up to cup my cheek, where he must have seen that his distraction was making me emotional. I couldn't face him, with unshed tears in my eyes, and just as I took the chance and decided to brave a glimpse of his face to see what was on his mind--- I found him there, his nose next to mine, his eyes peering into mine, his facial hair tickling my lips--- and just like that---

The Ferris Wheel began its accelerating descent and I grabbed onto him and the side rails to balance myself. Our near kiss postponed before it ever got started.

We got to the bottom, and my heart started beating again-- partly from his nearness and partly from the ride--- but when I thought we'd stop, we didn't.

"Open your eyes." Rafe's voice was compassionate, very near. "I won't let you go."

I didn't think he would let me go here on the Ferris Wheel, but the double meaning struck me as very sympathetic and sweet. He knew I could take those words several ways and didn't correct my thinking with an explanation, so I tried my best to relax as the wheel began to turn fairly quickly and the speed made the wind brushing my hair fan across our combined necks and cheeks. I reached to hold it back and he pinned my hand there close to my heart and held it softly, at first looking steadily out over the beach and then slowly his eyes turned to mine.

"Do you ride roller coasters?"

****

Author's Note

Hi, everybody, listen I'm pretty new to this, and I want to apologize for posting such a huge post, if you've stuck with me this far, then I promise to post smaller posts--- easier to read in short amounts, right? I've let a few people read my story, and they gave me a little feedback--- but I'd love to hear from someone else--- what do you think of Rafe and Aubrey? This is such a work in progress, I'm open to revisions--- any suggestions would be helpful!

PS. Thank you to my lovely granddaughter Mackenzie for the chapter art: she was actually the first to take up the challenge! Way to go, Kenzie!