Deepest Blues

by Heidi Hutchinson

  “Last night you said you guys were over. The police had to remove you from the room!” Paul reminded him, irritation visible on his face.

  Mike took a deep breath and sighed audibly. “It was just hotel security, not the police.” He looked around the bar, trying to find a way to explain what he felt so deeply in his gut. “She's it. She's the one. She needs me. I need her. When you meet the one, you look past all the crazy. She puts up with all of my stuff too.”

  Paul looked confused. “No, she doesn't! She's always yelling at you!”

  Mike laughed again and clapped one hand on Paul's shoulder. “Relax. Let me buy you a drink.”

  Paul closed his eyes in frustration. “No thanks. I think I'm gonna call it a night.”

  Mike frowned as he watched Paul trudge away looking more frustrated than when the conversation had started. What was he so bent about?

  Chapter 8

  Heart Starts

  “So what did I miss while I was gone?” Clarke asked, crashing onto the sofa next to Brady.

  “Oh, just the usual. House hunting, Harmony avoiding, surfing, harassing the new girl at the shop.” Brady laced his fingers behind his head.

  “What new girl? One of the new hires?”

  “Yeah,” Brady replied, jerking his chin up as Mike joined them in the living room and sat across from them. “She's weird. I mean, like really weird. But in this super frigid, aloof and totally awesome way. It's obvious that she's, like, crazy smart. But sometimes she seems just crazy.”

  “Are you talkin' about Lia?” Bo asked, entering the room. Brady nodded. “Yeah, add 'does not like to be touched' to the list of her oddities.” He bugged his eyes out as if that told the whole story.

  Bo and Brady were brothers. They were about a year apart, but looked like twins. Well, they used to look like twins. Brady was sporting a fresh shave and a short, spikey haircut, while Bo still had the soul-patch and blond shag.

  Clarke wanted to ask more about that, but she didn't have time because Greta was on her in a flash. A flurry of dark hair tackled her backwards onto the couch and nearly knocked the wind out of her.

  Greta braced her arms on either side of Clarke's supine figure. “It looks like you're all in one piece. There's no missing limbs or any horrible burn marks.” Her eyes glowed with excitement. “And you look refreshed.”

  She slid to the side and squeezed between Clarke and Brady as Clarke righted herself. “Thank you for taking care of my best friend, Mike. I know how much of a handful she can be.”

  Mike chuckled, but didn't respond.

  “What did you guys do in the Bay area?” Greta asked.

  Mike shrugged and glanced at Clarke. “Ate a lot.”

  “Shut up,” Clarke deadpanned, making Mike laugh. He had not stopped giving her a hard time about her healthy appetite.

  “I learned more Full House trivia than any human being should ever know. And that Clarke thinks Nicolas Cage is a very good actor. She also sings along to the radio, even if she doesn't know the words.”

  “Oh my gosh, Mike Osborn,” Clarke growled a warning and crossed her arms over her chest. “Sorry I was such a horrible travel companion.”

  “Don't let him fool you,” Harrison interjected. “He's seen ConAir like a thousand times.”

  Clarke looked at him smugly. “Guess you left that little detail out, huh?”

  Mike cracked a half-smile.

  “How's her singing? Anything we can use on the EP?” Harrison asked curiously.

  Mike lifted his eyebrows and then burst out laughing. He calmed down a bit then said, “No, sorry.”

  Clarke grimaced. Greta patted her knee in sympathy.

  “You sang in front of him?” Greta asked carefully. She knew what a horrendous singer Clarke was. It was something Greta had even tried to help her with, but Clarke was tone-deaf. She hated singing in front of other people and usually didn't. But Mike had that effect on her. Like she'd known him her whole life.

  Clarke pursed her lips and looked down at the floor. “I don't want to talk about it.”

  “Oh geez.”

  “And hell has officially frozen over!” Steve's loud voice breaking into the room caused Clarke's eyes to flutter closed briefly until his bellowing ceased. Steve was always the loudest in the room. Even if he was still in the other room entirely.

  He entered with more pomp and swagger than normal, and Clarke narrowed her gaze. He aimed his devilish grin at Greta and waited for her to respond.

  Greta sucked in a breath and looked at Bo. “What did you do, Bo?”

  Bo began backing into the kitchen. “I had to. It's the kind of thing that people would want to know.”

  Both of Greta's hands went to her reddening cheeks.

  Steve held up his phone, a look of sadistic glee coloring his features. “I've already forwarded it to like, everyone on my contact list.”

  Clarke waited in the manic silence for some sort of explanation. She finally pulled her phone out of her pocket and scrolled through her texts.

  Steve: Attention friends: Shane Brookings and Greta O'Neil are officially off the market and are currently hooking up with each other. Make sure you buy that man a beer.

  Clarke read it four times. Then she grabbed Greta's had and jerked her violently to her feet, pulling her up the stairs and into her room.

  “You promised me that you would tell me the second something changed with Shane!” Clarke hissed as she whirled on her friend as soon as they entered her room.

  Greta closed the door with a small kick. “I was going to! But it just happened seven and half seconds ago!” she whisper-shouted back.

  “Whatever! You don't go from being cautious friends to being a declared couple in the span of seconds!” Clarke gesticulated wildly at the end trying to prove her point.

  “Apparently, we do!” Greta returned with similar fervor.

  Clarke's back went straight and she frowned a bit. “Seriously?” she asked, her voice swinging to casual conversation. Could that happen? Friends one second, making out the next? Seemed unlikely.

  Greta's eyes bugged out and she grabbed the top of her head with both hands. “Geez, Clarke! You think I have any idea what's going on? One minute, I'm celebrating my verbal ass-kicking of Harmony Jeffords and the next, Shane has his tongue in my mouth!” She took a frantic breath and emphasized, pointing at her face with both hands, “His tongue in my mouth!”

  Clarke felt her mouth twitch as she tried to fight her smile. “What's that like?”

  Greta sighed heavily before stalking across her room and started an exasperated pace back and forth. “Amazing. No, it's fantastic. No, it's un-freaking-believable. But I have no idea what that even means! And you've been off gallivanting all over California with Mike Osborn while my life has been getting freakier and freakier all week. Brady made it clear that he was interested if this thing with Shane falls through. Whatever the hell that means! My co-workers seem to think it's hilarious to meddle in my personal life. Harrison told my mother that Shane was coming home for Christmas with me and that was before Shane's Screw the Rules Speech and the Kiss That Launched a Thousand Fantasies! And on top of all that, I have Bo and Steve taking it upon themselves to keep the world updated on my relationship status. Hell, if I was interested in that I'd just get a damn Facebook account!” She ended her tirade breathing heavily and glaring at Clarke.

  Clarke was trying her damnedest to keep her laughter in check. A week ago she had been worried something like this might happen and now that it had, it was almost a relief. It was good for Greta to have the tables turned on her for once.

  “I'm teaching Mike how to surf today. Why don't you suit up and come ride some waves with me, it might help put things in perspective,” Clarke offered soothingly.

  “I can't,” Greta snapped and crossed her arms over her chest. Clarke frowned in confusion. Great never turned down a day to surf with her. “I have to wait for the tattoo on my butt to heal first.”

  Clarke couldn'
t hide her reaction this time. She knew she looked shocked. It was because she was shocked.

  “A tattoo?! On your butt?!” Clarke shouted.

  “Yes, Clarke, I got a tattoo on my butt.” She turned her back while unzipping her jeans and yanked the gauze down with the waistband, showing the fresh and tender ink. “And out of all the things I shared with you, my best friend, that was what you chose to focus on first.” She righted herself, re-zipping her pants and turned around.

  Clarke crossed one arm over her middle, the other arm up, her hand covering the smile she was desperately trying to fight.

  “What about this is so funny?” Greta yelled.

  “Oh, my sweet Greta girl, you are the funniest chick I know.” Clarke lost her fight with her smile and it spread across her face. At the same time, Clarke closed the distance between them and put both hands on Greta's upper arms, giving her a squeeze. “Let's get you sorted. Do we need to call Tate?”

  Greta shrugged halfheartedly. “I'm thinking I don't have time, Shane is coming over after work. You're my only hope, Clarke.” She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Sort me out.”

  So that's what they did. Well, that's what they tried to do, as best they could in the limited time frame with Greta getting distracted and asking questions about Clarke and Mike's time spent in San Francisco.

  Clarke's plans to go surfing with Mike had to be tabled, but Mike didn't seem to mind. All the boys came upstairs to offer their own version of wisdom on the situation.

  They sat around Greta's room, the boys taking places along the wall while the girls sat on the edge of Greta's bed. Harrison, Mike and Steve were to Greta's left, while Bo sat more towards the right of the room, by the closet door. Brady wasn't home. He had left to run a few errands, which Clarke knew Greta was thankful for, seeing as there was discussion about his “intentions” and it would have been awkward to have him there. None of the guys were surprised by Brady's interest. Clarke was, but she moved past it quickly.

  When Shane showed up to collect Greta, Clarke couldn't help but notice the look on his face. He was head over heels for Greta. Completely smitten. It was a good look. Made Shane even more attractive. Like he really needed the help.

  Clarke stood by the front door with Mike before he left for the night.

  “When do you have to be back to work?” he asked.

  “Thursday.”

  “Then that only leaves tomorrow and Wednesday for surfing lessons,” Mike reminded her.

  “Right,” Clarke nodded, “I almost forgot, with all all the excitement. You wanna meet me at the shop tomorrow, bright and early?”

  Mike gave her a lazy smile. “Yes, I want that.”

  ***

  Mike and Harrison went back to the condo where Harrison asked a million and one questions about why Mike had felt the need to take Clarke all the way to San Francisco to see a movie they could have just watched over the internet.

  “Because she needed an adventure and she's chill.”

  “Chill.” Harrison looked at him with obvious skepticism.

  “Yeah,” Mike cracked his neck. Harrison knew a lot, but he didn't know everything. None of the guys did. They didn't want to. Mike didn't want them to. It was better sometimes to talk to other addicts about that stuff than non-addicts. So Harrison didn't know about Paul Matthews, Clarke's twin brother. Harrison didn't know anything about the week before his overdose, his fights with Ilsa, his struggle within himself to quit for good before he gave up entirely. Those were secrets that Mike planned on keeping. To protect himself. To protect her.

  Mike grabbed the guitar case and his keys off of the counter. “I'm going out. I'll be back later.”

  Harrison's mouth twisted, but he didn't argue. He just slumped onto the sofa and turned on the TV.

  Mike left the condo and walked towards the beach. He settled himself in the sand, removed his socks and shoes and braced his forearms on his knees.

  The sound of the ocean brought back the calming effect that Clarke had on him. Part of him wished she were here. She wouldn't feel the need to fill the empty spaces with words. She would let the water and the sunset do the talking. Her silence always said more than any words he'd ever heard anyway.

  Mike was struggling. He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know. Of all the secrets that he carried, whether his or someone else's, this was one he wanted to share. It was getting heavier the more time they spent together. She had been changed by what he knew. Her life had taken a harsh and unexpected turn, and he knew she didn't have the details.

  She didn't need the details.

  The details were painful. They would put the focus and blame right back where it belonged.

  On him.

  Mike closed his eyes and let his head drop between his arms.

  No, that wasn't right either. People were responsible for their own choices. He wasn't any more to blame for Paul's choices than Clarke was. Which was not at all.

  “Paul,” Mike murmured out loud. “What the hell were you thinking, buddy?”

  He looked up and tried to concentrate on the gold and orange hues that streaked along the horizon. Life had more color and vibrancy than he remembered. It seemed every day was just a little bit brighter than the last. Some days held only a tiny incremental tint, while others were giant paint buckets, overwhelming in their intensity.

  Every day with Clarke had been days of buckets. Buckets of color.

  Reds, greens, violets and yellows.

  Mike unpacked the guitar and settled it across his lap. Then he just played. He played for Clarke, he played for Paul, he played for their dad and all the memories that they would never get to make now. His fingers made up the melody as his heart beat it out from his chest.

  Why Clarke had come into his life at this time was impossible to ascertain. That she was best friends with Greta was too much of a coincidence to believe. For whatever reason, she was supposed to be here, at this time.

  Mike would just have to tread carefully. And when the time came for her to pull at the frayed ends of her past, it would all unravel. Like worn-out garments do, leaving a useless pile of scraps to be tossed out with yesterday's garbage.

  Would she be able to let it go and move on with what had been left to her? Or would she unwind with it all?

  Paul had never seen it coming. He had been naïve to a fault. His sweet, trusting nature hadn't done him any favors. If Mike had just—but there, again, Mike was trying to take responsibility for someone else's choices. He couldn't do that anymore. He'd done enough of that and it had only led to ruin.

  Paul had chosen for himself. Ilsa had made her choices as well. It was something Mike used to have to remind himself of a lot during rehab. He hadn't needed the reminding until lately.

  It didn't seem fair somehow. That Mike was still here and Paul wasn't. That Paul had made only one bad decision when Mike had made so many.

  And yet, Mike was still here.

  Chapter 9

  I'll Follow You

  Clarke watched Mike strip off his shirt and toss it casually onto his towel. The tattoos that adorned his torso were intricate and complicated and way more spectacular in the broad daylight. The larger images were surrounded by what looked like filigree all along his left side. Starting at his pec and traveling over his shoulder, down his back, ending at the base of his spine. All in black and gray. The filigree grew larger along the crest of his shoulder, then returned to a smaller design as it continued.

  The blue flower stood out among the darker images. The elegant dagger buried deep in his back was breathtaking. It bent and flexed with his lean back muscles and she found herself staring.

  Greta elbowed her in the ribs and Clarke looked away quickly. Only to have her eyes come back to him like a magnet.

  It was day two of surf lessons for Mike.

  Clarke had shown him the basics of pop-ups first thing yesterday morning. It was obvious he was in decent shape by his controlled movements and the endurance req
uired to pull off so many successful pop-ups in a row. When it had gotten warmer, he'd taken his shirt off. His tightly compact muscles were accentuated by the dramatic markings all over his body. Clarke's mouth had gone dry.

  Even now, knowing what it looked like and having spent the entire day with his shirtlessness, those tattoos had a mind-boggling effect on her.

  “You taking him out again today?” Brady asked curiously from the other side of Greta.

  “Yep. I have to go back to work tomorrow, but he'd like to get as much wave time as possible. Maybe you'll help me take point on this?” Clarke broke her gaze away from the half-naked musician in time to receive Brady's concurring nod.

  So Mike was very attractive.

  Big deal.

  “Finally! I've been trying to get us all together for weeks now!” Steve dropped his armload into the sand next to Clarke and sand sprayed the side of her face.

  She actually didn't mind seeing him today. This was probably because Brady had pulled through and gotten a new place for them to move into.

  “You speak as if us having actual jobs and being contributing members of society has somehow victimized you,” Clarke responded flatly.

  Steve squinted at her with a lost smile. “Well... yeah.”

  “Hey, I was gonna ask you,” Brady began, his tone caused Clarke to brace slightly. “I heard that a like a week or so ago, you were out in the water alone.”

  The conversations around them hushed. Clarke felt four pairs of eyes look to her in question.

  “I, uh, who told you that?” she asked, trying to stall until she could come up with an answer. This was because she didn't have an answer. In truth, she had forgotten about her trip to the beach early in the morning the day Shane had come back. She'd gone alone. And had actually been kind of mad that she didn't get to surf. It was like she'd sustained a head injury and was regressing to normal activities that she would have done... almost three years ago.

  “Jack mentioned he saw you, but you took off before he had a chance to talk to you.”