The Essential Jagged Ivory (Jagged Ivory Boxed Set)

by Lashell Collins

  She couldn't get seeing Robby again off of her mind, and as she worked she had to concentrate on not dwelling on it. Which, of course, only made her fixate on it even more. She began making stupid mistakes like giving the wrong drink to the wrong person and mixing up dinner orders. How much longer until her shift ended?

  As she stood at the register cashing out a check, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering. What would she have said to him if she had agreed to go have coffee with him the other night? Would she have told him? And if she had, what would he have done? What would he have said? She couldn't stop herself from conjuring up an image of his face the day she had broken up with him. How hurt and confused he had looked. And she wondered, for about the millionth time, what would have happened if she had never done that. If she had never insisted that they call it quits. Would they still be together right now? Would they be happy? Would he still be with the band? And she wondered if he was happy now, and if he had anyone special in his life. Crazy as it sounded, even to her, a part of her hoped that he did. At least that way she could tell herself that it hadn't all been for nothing.

  “Damn it,” she muttered as the payment screen froze on her. It was her own fault; she wasn't paying attention to what she was doing. She sighed, trying hard to focus as she carefully backed out of the transaction and started all over again. She returned the credit card and the receipt to table nine and wished her diners a good evening. Then she hurried back to the alcove to log herself out of the system so that she could go clock out.

  “I think it's time for you to go home now,” Bev said with a sarcastic smile.

  “Tell me about it,” Janie sighed. “I've been here way too long; I'm so glad this shift is finally over.”

  “So, we've been so busy tonight I haven't had a chance to ask you,” Bev said, smiling at her. “How was the concert?”

  Janie smiled wistfully. “It was amazing. They really do put on a great show. I wish I'd had the money to go again tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah? Happy you splurged on the better seats?” she asked.

  “Definitely! Although I still feel really guilty about it,” Janie admitted. “I shell out over a hundred bucks for a concert ticket and then have to borrow two hundred to have a new alternator put in my car. If that's not karma I don't know what is.”

  “Oh, you paid me back,” Bev said with a wave of her hand.

  It was true, she had paid Bev back as soon as she could, even though it took a couple of months. But she still felt bad. The last time Jagged Ivory played Cleveland, she had sat in the cheap seats. They weren't nosebleed seats or anything, but they weren't the greatest either. This time around she paid the extra money for better seats, fifth row center. It had been so awesome. She could see everything, even the expressions on Robby's face as he pounded away on the drums.

  “And?” Bev asked impatiently.

  “And what?”

  “You know very well what, Janie! Did you get backstage or not?”

  She sighed as she finished logging out of the restaurant's computer system, then she turned to her friend. “Yes, I did.”

  “Oh, my God! You actually did it?”

  “Yep.”

  Beverly let out a frustrated groan. “Why is this like pulling teeth? Tell me what happened!”

  “There's nothing to tell, Bev.”

  “What do you mean there's nothing to tell? Did you see him? Did you get to talk to Buzzy West?”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, I did.”

  “You did?” Bev questioned, sounding surprised. “Oh, my God. Okay. Well, what did you say? How did he react?”

  Janie hesitated a beat. “I didn't tell him, Bev,” she said finally.

  “You didn't tell him? Janie! I thought that was the whole point!”

  “Well you thought wrong,” Janie shot back. “I just … I wanted to see him.” She rolled her eyes and took an unsteady breath. She didn't expect Bev to approve of her choice, but it was her choice to make. Her friend's eyes softened a bit as she stared at her, and Janie didn't like the trace of pity she saw there.

  “Look, I can understand wanting to see him again, Janie,” she said softly. “That's only natural, I think. I mean, you loved him so much. But how do you expect not to lose everything if you don't ask him for a little help?”

  “I will not ask him for his money, Bev,” Janie said with a determined grit to her voice. “I don't want his pity.”

  “It's not pity, Janie,” Beverly countered. “Asking him to take a little responsibility is not pity. It's what's right!”

  Janie sighed and walked away from her friend. She understood that Bev meant well and that she was only trying to help, but she simply didn't have the energy right now to argue with her. She was tired and she wanted to go home and get off of her feet.

  She clocked out and gathered her things and then headed out to the parking lot of the restaurant. And as she slid behind the wheel of her old beat up '95 Olds Cutlass she thought about Robby. Should she have taken him up on his offer to go somewhere and talk? Should she have told him about her life? About their lives?

  “You know, every time we play Cleveland I always wonder about you, hoping you'll show up backstage sometime. You have no idea how often I have had that daydream. And now finally, here you are!”

  His words from last night came back to her, and she could picture his face as he smiled at her. Did he really daydream about her? Did he really still think about her? What would he have said if she had told him that she thinks about him every single day?

  Fifteen minutes later, she pulled her car into the small gravel driveway beside her house and got out. She walked up the short path to the door, nearly tripping over a tiny Iron Man action figure on her way. Bending down, she picked it up rolling her eyes slightly, and continued to the door.

  “Hi, Mrs. Stanley,” she said, smiling at her neighbor as she let herself inside. They had lived next door to the elderly African American woman for most of Janie's life, and she had been one of her mother's closest friends.

  “Hi, Janie. Work go okay?” she asked as she began to put away her knitting.

  “Yes, ma'am. It's been a long day though,” Janie replied.

  “Well, everything is quiet here. I think the trip to the zoo with Jordan's family really did him in,” she smiled as she gathered her things to go.

  Janie smiled. “Thank you for being here when he got back, Mrs. Stanley. And for staying late.”

  “Oh, it's no problem, Janie. It's not like I have to go across town, you know? I just leave here and walk next door,” she smiled as she stood up to leave.

  “Well, I wish you would let me pay you something,” Janie offered, as she always did.

  “You do pay me, sweetheart,” Mrs. Stanley smiled. “You just made that huge pot of Korean Ox Bone Soup for me! Just like your mother used to. And you know … it's every bit as good as hers was too.”

  Janie smiled appreciatively at the older woman. She had been such a help after her mom passed away, and there were times when Janie honestly didn't know how she would have made it without the old woman's kindness. She hugged her affectionately before watching as Mrs. Stanley left and crossed the front lawn to her own home. And when she had made it safely inside, Janie stepped back into the house and closed and locked the front door. She immediately kicked off her shoes, and then spent a few minutes picking up around the small living room before she made her way to the back of the little house.

  She stopped outside the closed door and slowly turned the knob, silently letting herself into the room. And she smiled to herself as she walked over to the bed and watched him sleeping. Carefully, she pulled up the Iron Man blanket and covered him up. Then she reached out her hand and gently ran her fingers through his silky black hair, moving it from his forehead.

  “Sweet dreams, baby boy,” she whispered.

  Chapter Four

  Buz lay staring at the ceiling for the second morning in a row. No matter how hard he tried to just let it go, he c
ouldn't. He couldn't get Janie off of his mind. Talking to the guys yesterday had helped. Telling them all about her, about how they had met and what their time together was like. About how much he had loved her. How much he still loved her.

  He had hoped that talking it out with his brothers would help get it out of his system, but so far that wasn't proving true. He could see her face every time he closed his eyes. He could feel her in his arms. He remembered the way she smelled and the sound of her laughter. He could hear the soft moan she used to make when he would lightly kiss her neck. The way her fingernails would scrape over the skin of his back as they were making love.

  He couldn't take it anymore. Pulling back the covers, he jumped up and got moving. He showered and dressed in jeans and a Motörhead t-shirt. Then he carefully pulled his long black hair into a ponytail and grabbed his dark aviator sunglasses. Giving no thought to taking along his bodyguard, he grabbed his denim jacket and the Cleveland Brown's ball cap, and left his room. As he made his way down the hallway he ran into Benji propping open his door.

  “Hey, man. Where you headed off to so early?” he asked.

  Buzzy looked him in the eye and licked his lips anxiously. “I'm going to Janie's. And I'm getting out of the car this time. I have to see her again.”

  Benji smiled at him. “Good luck, man.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled before he turned toward the elevator.

  “Yo, Buz,” Benji called urgently after him, and he turned around. “Just remember we've got a show tonight, alright? If you are not at the arena for soundcheck Mike will hit the roof!”

  “I'll be there,” he promised.

  In the elevator, he donned the jacket and the shades and pulled the ball cap on. Then he made his way down to the lobby and out the front doors, hailing a cab with a sharp whistle.

  His mind raced for the entire ten minute drive to his old neighborhood. What would he say to her? Why was it suddenly so important to see her again? To talk to her? Talk about what? Would he tell her that he still loved her? That he thought about her constantly. That every woman he had ever been with since her paled miserably in comparison? Would she listen to him? Would she even give a shit at all about anything he might say?

  The cab pulled slowly down the street, and before it even came to a stop Buzzy could see her standing on the porch. She was barefoot, dressed in a pair of denim cut off shorts and a form-fitting, pale blue t-shirt, and she looked casual and real and beautiful. Her hair drifted in the light breeze as she used a pitcher to water a pot of colorful calibrachoa that stood on the steps of the porch. When the pitcher was empty, she turned and went inside the house.

  Buzzy swallowed anxiously as he tried to take a deep breath.

  “That'll be twelve seventy-five, buddy,” the cabbie spoke up.

  Reaching for his wallet, Buz quickly paid for the ride and then got out of the cab. He stood motionless across the street from the house, just gaping at it as the cab drove off. Nervously, he ran his hands down the sides of his jeans, aware that his hands were sweating. Suddenly the front door opened, and he watched as Janie stepped out with another pitcher of water and began watering a matching pot of flowers on the other side of the steps. With shallowed breaths, he slowly reached up and removed his sunglasses as he watched her from his vantage point.

  As she watered the flowers, Janie got the sudden and uncomfortable sensation of being watched, and she looked up and froze. At first she wasn't certain he was really there, and her eyes widened as she took him in. He was standing directly across the street from her house, watching her every move. He said nothing as he slowly stepped off the curb and started walking toward her. And her heartbeat grew louder in her ears with his every step.

  He said not a word as stepped into her yard, but his eyes never wavered from her lovely face as he stood at the bottom of the steps and looked up at her.

  “Robby.” Her voice was small and timid, even to her ears. “What are you doing here?”

  At the sound of her voice, Buzzy's head began to swim, as if working its way through a thick fog, and his palms weren't the only things starting to sweat.

  “I told you I'd be in the area for a while,” he said quietly. “I wanted to see you again.”

  She didn't know what to say. Should she be flattered or terrified that he was here right now?

  “Robby …”

  “Can we talk, Janie?” he asked, looking into her eyes. “Can I come in for a few minutes and just talk to you?”

  The pounding in her ears grew louder. Come inside? She glanced at the door nervously before meeting his gaze once more.

  “Um … we … we can talk here,” she offered, gesturing to the old wicker chairs on the porch.

  Buz gave a quick nod of his head. He didn't care where they talked, only that they did. And he slowly climbed the three steps up to the porch and followed her to the chairs that sat just to the left of the door. He sat down, awkwardly playing with the sunglasses he still held in his hand as Janie sat to his left, placing the now empty pitcher on the floor beside her. He looked up to find her watching him closely, and he wondered if she was as nervous about this as he was.

  “Um, how … how are you?” he asked quietly.

  “I'm fine,” Janie answered softly, wondering what was going through his mind at that moment.

  Buzzy stared at her for a long moment, as if he couldn't believe that she was really sitting beside him right now. There was so much he wanted to say to her. He just had no clue where to even begin.

  “I uh … I was … I was so happy to see you the other night,” he mumbled, giving her a shy smile. “Surprised! But happy.”

  Janie didn't know what to say. He looked so adorably nervous as he spoke, and she couldn't help the tug she felt in her belly as she looked at him.

  “So, how have you been?” he asked again. “I mean … it has been eight years, you know? An answer like 'I'm fine' doesn't really cut it.”

  “I'm doing okay, Robby,” she answered quietly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes,” she nodded.

  “You working somewhere?”

  “Yes. I wait tables in my uncle's restaurant,” she answered.

  “Yeah? He still has that place over in AsiaTown?” Buzzy smiled.

  “Yes,” she smiled.

  “Man, I used to love going there with you,” he smiled. “They had the best bibimbap I've ever had in my life!”

  Janie giggled nervously at him. “They have the only bibimbap you've ever had.”

  Buzzy laughed slightly at her comment. “Okay, maybe back then, you're right. But I actually developed a real taste for Korean food. I don't get it often, but … I like to try a Korean restaurant whenever I can. Somehow it's never quite as good as the food I had here in this house though,” he said with a sad smile.

  “Maybe you should try to visit the restaurant while you're here,” she suggested softly.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Maybe you'll go with me?”

  She was caught off guard by his offer. “Robby …”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” he said, frowning slightly. “So, you work at your uncle's restaurant, but what about your writing? You are still writing aren't you?”

  Janie was taken aback, both by the sudden change in topic, and by the fact that he remembered that she wanted to be a writer.

  “I can't believe you remember that,” she said softly.

  Buzzy's frown deepened. “I remember everything about you, Janie. I remember everything about us,” he said softly.

  Something about the look in his eyes speared her, right through the heart, and she suddenly wanted to tell him everything. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What should she say? Where should she begin? She looked down at her hands nervously, and then glanced toward the door of the house. The front door was wide open, and she could hear the muffled sounds coming from the television through the screen door.

  “Janie are you, um … I mean, do you … have someone? In your life,
I mean,” Buzzy asked awkwardly.

  “What? Why are you asking me that?”

  She seemed startled by his question, which only served to make him more curious. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry. You just keep looking toward the house. Is someone in there waiting for you? Do you have a boyfriend or a … husband?” he asked. He held his breath as he waited for her answer, but part of him wanted it to be true. He wanted her to have someone in her life who loved her and made her happy.

  “That's none of your business, Robby,” she said sadly. But even as she said the words, she wanted desperately to ask the same of him.

  “No. I suppose it isn't,” he said, a definite edge creeping into his voice. They were silent for a moment as he wondered about her reluctance to answer the question.

  “How's your mom doing?” Janie asked. Eager to change the subject.

  “She's good,” he answered through a forced smile. “Feisty as ever. She's living down in Columbus now.”

  “And your brothers?”

  He looked at her blankly for a moment as his bandmates came immediately to mind. But then he realized she was referring to his biological brothers. “Both still following in the Major's footsteps. Donald's in Texas at Lackland Air Force Base, and Gregory's here in Ohio, down at Wright Patt.”

  “It must be nice for her to have him fairly close,” Janie said.

  “Well, they're about an hour away from each other, but … yeah, I guess so,” Buz said. “It probably meant a lot to your mom, having you here.”

  Janie sighed as she thought about his comment. “Yes. Especially when she got so sick.”

  “I really am sorry,” Buz said suddenly, looking her in the eye. “When I heard about your mom I couldn't believe it. I'm sorry that I didn't know she was ill. She was such a great lady.”

  Once again, Janie was taken aback by him. The look in his eyes was raw, and Janie could feel his sincerity.