“Yeah, yeah. At least mine has air conditioning and doesn’t feel like a spring is going to rocket into my ass if I move wrong.” To make his point, Tanner shifted gingerly and grimaced.
“Well, not all my passengers are so tender-assed.” I chuckled. Tanner had a point though. The seats were insanely uncomfortable. “I’ll give you that one. But I like it. No trading up for me.”
I drove the key home and started the SUV. Tanner jumped a little at the triple-threat backfire that puffed black smoke from the tailpipe. Sure, I could have afforded something more expensive. I still had a decent bank account and savings, with residuals coming in from physical and digital sales. My very last single had even stayed on the charts for five months after I’d flown the coop, leaving behind a mountain of trouble in my wake. My contract had just come due for renegotiation when I left everything behind. I still got a call once a month seeing if I was ready to come back and sign with one yahoo or another.
But how could I go back to it? How could I get back on the stage without Asher? They’d replaced him within two weeks of his death. His body was probably still warm when they were deep into damage control, trying to figure out how to save the image, sweep an OD’d guitarist under the rug. They’d- slapped the contract down on the table in front of me when I’d refused to even test out the potential new guys. I was the face of songs, but I had no power to refuse. So I’d stayed on, stayed on until that date on the contract rolled around.
I did have a kind of power though, one I debated during the darkest months when I was forced to carry on like the devil’s wayward son.
I’d almost done it too—overdosed on the same shit that had killed Asher. From the same pusher. In the same damned depressing alley.
“Silas,” Tanner’s hand touched my shoulder. It was a shy touch.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m going.” I’d turned the SUV on, but then I’d just sat there, letting memory drown me like a rat in a too-deep, half-filled bucket. It wasn’t the first time it’s happened. When I first moved here, I rented a room in Tanner’s house. That’s how we’d met. I was still having nightmares at that point; still coming down off the high I’d been on since I’d signed my first contract, received my first pay out. He’d gotten used to bringing a hand towel in to check on me, soaking up the sweat from my face and body as I went through withdrawal.
I’d never be able to thank him for that—taking care of me, and never once asking me about it. I thought he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop though, for me to landslide back into my past shadows.
Shifting into drive, I steered the vehicle out of the parking lot and I steered my brain off memory road, off the misery of the past.
Small town dirt road
Don’t seem like home anymore
Momma crying in the kitchen
Whiskey bottle empty in my hands
Made it big, sang it loud
But my ears can’t hear no sound
Dead as my heart
Anna.
Everything looked so plain.
The kiddy sheets were hidden beneath a pale blue comforter and sham. I tended to be cold, even in thick pajamas, so I’d purchased a cheap blanket too. It was yellow. My hygiene products were organized neatly on the built-in desk and dresser combo. I liked where the desk was; it faced the window. It didn’t have the greatest view in the world—just the back of a second dormitory. But I could open the window to let fresh air in. I wouldn’t get in trouble for hoisting the blinds up as far as they’d go, so far that they’d stick and be hard to get back down again. I could let sun in. All the sun I wanted.
“Knockety knock.” Nat’s voice was distinct, so I knew it was her before I unlocked and opened my door. “Honestly, I don’t think I can do this. The RA says I can’t ask for a room transfer until week three. They want to make sure a person gives their roommate the ‘old college try.’” Nat quoted her fingers in the air dramatically as she said the last.
“I’m sorry. What’s she done now?” I turned away from Nat, moving to the bed to sit cross-legged on the new comforter. For Nat’s part, she bee-lined for the white plastic chair that came with the built-in desk. She sat down, looking like she belonged there, exactly there, in that seat. She belonged here. The sight made me squirm a little, like this was all a dream and I was still stuck back in the dark, three-bedroom ranch awaiting the nightly visit.
“Who’ll want you? You’re used. Dirty.”
“I’m the only person who’ll ever show you this kind of love.”
“Your skin’s so soft. Like baby skin.”
“Your mom’s not tight like this. I like it tight.”
“HEY, YOU OKAY?” NAT had been trying to talk to me more, telling me what her roommate was doing that was so annoying that she was already considering a transfer.
I shook my head and forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Want to walk to the parent’s lunch then?”
“Parent’s lunch?” I nervously smoothed the bed linens.
“Yeah, it’s something the college does on move-in day for the freshmen. My dad’s going to meet me over there. He ran to the store to grab a few things I forgot when packing.”
“Your dad?” Even without the ‘step’ preceding the dad, a chill still crept up my spine. It was a good thing that I was already so pale, or I’m sure I’d have visibly gone white and Nat would have asked me, again, if I was okay.
“Who helped move you in?” Nat hopped up from the chair, her hair bouncing beautifully and a happy energy seeming to radiate from her pores.
“No one.”
“Oh,” Nat said, hesitating, “I don’t blame you. My dad’s made a huge fuss about today. He even cried on the drive down from Virginia.”
“My dad died,” I blurted out. “And my stepdad isn’t...” It was my turn to hesitate. “Nice.” I finished.
“Shit. I’m sorry. That sucks.” Nat bit her bottom lip. “My mom’s dead. When I was seven. She was great. Sometimes it’s hard to remember stuff about her though.”
“I was twelve when my dad died. My mom remarried right before I turned thirteen.”
“Jesus, talk about fast.”
I nodded. “Yeah. It was.” And terrible.
“Well, come eat with me and Dad. He’ll be relieved to know I’ve already made a friend. Maybe it’ll keep him from coming down every weekend like he’s threatened to.” She smiled when she said the word ‘threatened’, like it wasn’t a threat at all. I envied that. I wanted that—a father who cared that much. God, I’d even take a mom who cared enough to ask me why my arm was black-and-blue. Bruises in the shape of a violent, gripping hand.
The food wasn’t terrible at the luncheon. Better than what I was used to back home—which was all boxed stuff or things that could be nuked in the microwave. Sometimes I was able to bring home some restaurant leftovers; those were good nights.
Nat’s dad was funny—portly, bearded, jolly. He’d make the perfect Santa Claus once he’d aged a bit more and sported a white beard instead of raven black. Assuming he did go grey; I’d seen a lot of older men barely go salt and pepper.
“I’m so glad to know Nat’s already making friends,” Mr. Hubert commented around a mouthful of jasmine rice and pale gravy. “She’s not shy, by any means,” he looked at his daughter, a twinkle in his eyes, “and I knew she’d meet people fast, but I can leave here today knowing she’s already got you. And that makes this old man happy.”
Nat smiled at me. “I’ve got a feeling Anna and I are going to be friends for life, Dad. Though, given you’re so old, I’m not sure how long you’ll be around to get to know her too. Which is a shame.” She poked her dad’s shoulder, laughing.
His smile in return was ear-to-ear. “I made some of my closest friends in college. Uncle Mikey, Don, Ralph.”
Nat snorted, ice water streaming from her nose. “Uncle Mikey? You think he’s such a good example?”
Mr. Hubert nearly blushed, his chocolate cheeks taking on a hint of wi
ldfire. “Now, Uncle Mikey’s got more good points than bad.”
“He set my tree house on fire when I was nine. He fell on my doll castle and broke it to bits. He ‘accidently’ ate half of my eleventh birthday cake.” Nat was checking items off on her fingers and I could tell she had a list way longer than all her fingers and toes combined.
“Okay, okay,” Mr. Hubert held up his hands in defeat. “What can I say? I love the guy.”
“And he was there for you when mom died,” Nat said, nodding.
“That redeems pretty much everything, doesn’t it?” Mr. Hubert nodded, his smile now walking the edge of sadness.
“Pretty much,” Nat put a hand on her dad’s shoulder, “except for setting my tree house on fire. Nothing’s going to wipe the slate clean on that one.”
I sat there, watching them laugh, and I wanted to cry. Why was it that some people got wonderful, loving families and other people got crackheads and rapists?
It wasn’t fair at all.
Silas.
“Tell Laurie I said hi,” I called through the open passenger window at Tanner’s retreating back. His house, beyond the white picket fence, was exactly what you’d expect in a town-and-country magazine. Bright white siding. Crisply painted green shutters. Respectable. Even after midnight, it was daylight enchanted.
“Tell her yourself. She’ll be there tomorrow tonight.” Tanner didn’t turn around, but I heard the smile in his voice. Continuing that fall, down deep and hard, giving his heart. I hoped he didn’t regret that.
“You mean tonight!” I called back, looking at the clock on the dash blinkingly telling me it was well after midnight.
When I got home, I just sat there in the driveway, long after the engine had cooled. I didn’t want to go into the house and be alone again. When I was working, chatting with Tanner, I could let the world go, let the past go.
But inside, confined by walls and loneliness, I wanted to cut myself and let the blood free-flow. I’d found purpose as an EMT, found my real calling maybe, but the past still lingered like a sour odor after an Easter egg hunt where not all the eggs had been found, and they were rotting there, in the places they were hidden, gone but not forgotten.
I had one too many rotting eggs stuck inside my body and mind.
I leaned the driver’s seat back and closed my eyes. When I woke up, sunrise was shooting colors across the sky.
I SLEPT ANOTHER FOUR hours, this time in my bed. I didn’t dream. I was grateful for that. Often, I was one bad vision away from wanting to use or drive off a cliff.
I’d no damn idea why I was feeling so fragile lately. I’d been doing good. I’d been doing good.
I got up then, a hunger in my stomach that had nothing to do with food. Eating would fill the void, for a while. Exercise would cut the desire, for a while. Singing tonight would fill my soul. For a while. That’s how it was—a constant battle to find a fix that sated the need for what I could no longer have.
I’d turned my phone off when I’d gotten into bed. I switched it back on now and stuffed it in the pocket of my sweat pants. It buzzed like mad moments later, but I ignored it. Coffee and breakfast first. Badgering mother later.
Pulling out a pan and carton of eggs, I set about making an omelet. A poor man’s version, as my dad would call it. Just cheese in the middle. He’d always said it was no different than scrambling some eggs and tossing in a handful of cheddar. A proper omelet has meat and veggies.
But my pantry and fridge were barebones right now. If you gave me a choice between grocery shopping and a hot poker to my groin, I’d pick the latter more often than not. There was something infinitely lonely about walking the aisles as a single person, placing single-person food in the metal cart. Just enough of this so it wouldn’t spoil before your single mouth could eat it. Just enough of that for a recipe for one. Inevitably, there’d be either a grandmother-type prying over if I was eating properly or a single woman eyeballing me like I was the last eligible bachelor in the small town. Neither was appealing.
I took the finished omelet into the living room, spilling coffee on the small pallet-wood table when I set my mug down a little too hard. I cursed, grabbing a throw blanket and swiping up the mess quickly before it ruined the stain. I tossed it afterwards onto the floor. I’d wash it later.
Putting my feet up, plate on lap, I switched on the television and mindlessly watched some Law & Order rerun. No matter what time of day, or how long it had been since I’d caught the show on TV, the episode always seemed to be one I’d seen more than once. It was like some sort of damn time paradox—where the show pretended to actually make new installments, but in reality they just showed the same five over and over again, convincing viewers that they were just somehow missing the newer tapings.
The eggs were bland, greasy from the cheese, desperately in need of salt and pepper. But now that I was settled, no way was I walking back into the kitchen for condiments. So I ate them, as unenjoyable as they were, and I downed my already-cool coffee in two gulps.
Then I just sat there, staring at the television, not retaining anything that was happening or being said, though the ending came as no surprise because I’d instantly remembered who the bad guy was and that the kidnapped kid had survived, despite being buried alive.
I paid some bills after I forced myself to get my ass off the couch. Kept the lights on for another month. Which was a good thing. It gave me something to debate whenever I got so low that being gone felt like a possible path. I could always look at a lamp, or run the vacuum and tell myself that I’ve paid to stay here another month, so I should stay. I didn’t grow up wasting money, I wasn’t about to start.
What does it say about a person that paying an electric bill is enough to delay suicide?
Maybe that the person doesn’t really want to fucking die at all.
It was five o’clock when I finally checked my phone messages. Tanner had written, double-checking I’d be at the gig tonight. He texted four more times, reminding me to bring this and that. The last message was ‘Laurie’s looking forward to seeing you’. That one made me smile, because I knew he was giving me shit, that he wouldn’t tell her ‘hello’ for me, because that was my own damn job.
I should have showered before leaving, but I didn’t. I changed out of sweatpants into something a little more rock and roll and a little less ‘single bum’.
I didn’t realize until I was driving away from the house, gear packed, what shirt I was wearing. Black with a simple no-frills symbol on the front. No writing, no explanation.
Asher had given it to me.
There ain’t water enough to clean this soul
Circumstance done took its toll
Left me shattered
To a point where life don’t matter
Filth and memory inside my brain
Not even the rain can quench the pain
Keep me dirty, keep me dark
To death’s house I do embark
Call me bitter, call me cruel
I won’t play the drug’s next fool
Not again
Anna.
“Come with me tonight. It’ll be fun. A whole gang of us are going.” Natalie was stood in the doorway of my room, her shoulder leaned against the hard frame, her hair bouncing with life as she spoke, not unconvincingly, of how fun going to a bar would be for live music.
“I don’t know, Nat. There’s so much to do. We’ve got campus orientation tomorrow. I need to get a good night’s sleep.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “You need a good night’s sleep to walk around and listen to some junior show us where classrooms are and drone on about campus history and how great the cafeteria food is?”
I laughed at that. “No, but I need to also confirm my scholarship stuff, check that my vouchers are at the bookstore, and who knows what else.”
“Anna, for the first time in our lives, we’re not totally being controlled by parental figures. And literally tomorrow is all about making sure everything�
�s in order.” I started to protest, but she stopped me. “No, seriously. I’m one hundred percent on board with keeping our noses in textbooks once classes actually start, but right now is our opportunity to get the... I don’t know,” she shrugged, “get the lay of the land. Meet some great people. Maybe flirt with a boy or two.”
I swallowed at that last comment. The only thing I had no desire to do, whilst experiencing the whole well-rounded college thing, was date. The peanut in my stomach did a little hoppy thing, like a hiccup, and I imagined that he or she was agreeing with me. Wholeheartedly.
“I’ll go with you, on one condition.” I bit my bottom lip, wondering how she’d respond.
“Okay, what is it?” She walked towards me, taking her ‘spot’ on the opposite bed.
“No boys. I’m just... not wanting that right now.” As soon as I said it, my hands itched to cradle my stomach. But I didn’t really know the girl sitting in my room. I couldn’t trust her with such a big secret yet. So I controlled my movements and didn’t give myself away.
Nat pouted a little before smiling. “Well, I thought you were perfect, but maybe you’re not totally, completely perfect. Because, Anna? Boys are going to be a huge part of my college years.” She laughed, a full-bodied, happy sound. “Dad never let me date! Now, I’m not saying I want to lose my v-card in a sweaty fit of strange, but I do want to get one hell of a first kiss. And then a second. And a third.” She shrugged. “Not necessarily from the same guy.”
We laughed together then, though I personally felt a little sick to my stomach. Losing my v-card, as she put it, had never been a choice.
“So, you’ll come then?” She stood up, running a hand through her curly wild hair.
“I nodded, as long as the ‘no boy’ thing stands.”
“On my honor,” she said dramatically, holding a hand over her heart, but the other behind her back.
The Beat Between Us: A Rock Star Redemption Romance (The Heartbeat Series Book 1) Page 3