A Bleu Streak Christmas

by T. I. Lowe

  “Straight up.” I laugh. “Guess some things are just nature and nothing we can do about it, no matter how much nurture is given.”

  We settle down a while and I can’t help but watch her read. That stunning face wrinkles and scowls and her eyes widen at different parts of the book.

  “Izzy?” She looks back over at me, looking surprised that I addressed her by her actual name. “Do me a favor, though. Never let others’ opinion hold any power over you. Own who you are, okay?”

  “Okay.” She nods. “Here, read some of this while I go check on little Grace. Tell me what you think.” She hands over the iPad after returning the book to the first chapter. I think she’s running away from me and my conversation, but I’ll let her get away with it this once.

  She scoots by and I’ll be danged if Blake isn’t on her heels. “Izzy, you need help with anything?” he asks.

  “No. Thanks though.”

  Blake keeps walking in her wake, but I reach my arm out and block the aisle. “Off limits.” The look I give him should leave no doubt, but the fool keeps on anyway.

  “What? No way. I called dibs first,” he whines. Seriously. The punk just whined.

  “Not gonna repeat myself. And stop following her around like a flipping puppy. You’re bordering close to stalker status.”

  The other guys agree, so Blake huffs a few times and plops back down in his seat.

  I decide to give the book a go, but by the time the plane is minutes away from landing, I hand the device back over to Izzy with my own grunts of aggravation.

  “Should we send the definition of suspense to the author?”

  “No. He’s new on the book scene. I’m sure he’ll figure it out.”

  “Ah. You’re one of those people.”

  Izzy’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

  “You always give the benefit of the doubt. Bet you look for the good, instead of hunting down the bad in people.”

  Her pretty little cheeks paint up all pink. “What’s wrong with that?” She asks this with no confidence.

  “Stop worrying what I think of you, doll. Didn’t we talk about this earlier?” I wait for her to acknowledge me with a head nod. “For the record, there’s nothing wrong with that. I find it really appealing.”

  The urge to hug her hits me out of nowhere. Instead, I offer her my fist and am stoked when she hesitates none to tap her tiny one to it.

  “Welcome to Texas,” I say as I feel the plane touch down.

  Chapter Six

  Izzy

  Things have been going relatively easy so far with the exception of my tongue not wanting to unstick most of the time. This group is flat-out overwhelming. One on one is easier, but not many words escape then either.

  Last night was the first concert in Texas, which was held in the southern part of the state at Cooper Stadium. The band and the stadium owners went in together to make the concert free. All the fans had to do was donate a canned food item. I spent the event helping pack up box after box of cans, and it felt good to be a part of something important. I’m just blown away by the impact this good deed will have on the local food bank.

  I’ve been sticking to the shopping routine Tate has me on. Each day, he hands me a list and calls me a driver and I tackle it. I’m guessing he handles the shipping of the gifts, because they disappear overnight. I offered to take care of that, but he keeps saying it’s already handled. I don’t get why they didn’t take care of their Christmas shopping before the tour, but it’s really not my concern, so I do as I’m told.

  Something else peculiar happens at night. The band sneaks out for an hour or so, thinking they are getting away with it. They aren’t privy to me being a night owl, so I hear them whisper and sneak around in the dark. It’s none of my business, but my mystery solving instinct has been kicked on.

  Shaking my head of that bafflement, I try focusing on the task at hand. This task is to figure out the labyrinth of corridors of this venue to deliver a shoebox to Jewels. I’m getting right flustered. Texas certainly does do everything bigger. This concert hall, located in the northern part of the giant state, is massive. And I’m lost! Ugh! My nerves are skittering all over the place as I wander around. The last three doors have been incorrect and only produced Dillon coloring with Grace, Trace meditating or more likely napping, and Will and Mave practicing their routine for the night with drumsticks and a poor unsuspecting leather sofa filling in for drums.

  A quick glance at my watch indicates only ten minutes before show time. Relief washes over me when Jewels pops her head out of a dressing room down the hall.

  “Hurry, Izzy!”

  I set out in a jog and hand over the shoes. She rushes in and I follow, but stop when she scoots into the bathroom.

  “You have lovely skin. You know that, Max?” Jewels says from the other side of the door.

  What?

  He grumbles something I can’t quite make out, but I do hear his next statement very clearly. “I want this dress off.”

  “Tough. It’s staying on. Now, hold still before you smudge the makeup,” Jewels snaps.

  Her statement worries and confuses me at the same time. I’m pretty sure she was wearing jeans when she entered that bathroom a few seconds ago. What is going on in there? I think maybe I should leave. I want no part in whatever that is…

  My cheeks heat instantaneously as the door bangs open, producing Marilyn Monroe in full Christmas glam—a striking red-sequined gown with white fur trim and silver stilettos that I’m guessing were in the shoebox I just delivered. She’s even got a sparkling hairpin tucked into her fair locks.

  “I’m gonna break my neck in these stupid shoes,” Marilyn grouches out, sounding a lot like Max King.

  “What’s going on?” I stutter out to Jewels.

  “Lost a bet, gorgeous,” Max answers as he struts out of the room with a bit of a wobble to his stride.

  I swear to you, the man could totally pull off impersonating the iconic actress. The only clue it’s Max under all that glitz is his gruff voice and the sheet music inked along his right arm. He makes one killer drag queen, that’s for sure.

  His stunning form disappears down the hall, so I tear my eyes away and focus back on Jewels. “What was that about?”

  She snorts. “Max plays with fire. Got himself burned again by making a bet with Dillon on some silly dare. Max obviously lost, so he gets to perform in all of his beauty tonight.”

  “He sure is pretty,” I say in awe.

  “Who’s pretty?” Mave asks from behind us, causing me to jump and Jewels to laugh.

  “She’s talking about your sexy twin.” The tease is evident in her tone.

  An odd expression registers on Mave’s face before he stalks past us and in the direction Max just headed. In black jeans and shirt with drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket and dark hair perfectly tousled, I would describe Mave beyond pretty—downright dazzling.

  Jewels snaps me out of my gawking by grabbing my arm and rushing us after him. “Come on. I don’t want to miss it when the band sees Max.”

  When we reach the group backstage, they are howling in laughter.

  “You’re right, doll. Max sure is pretty.” Mave grins at me.

  I don’t know what to say to that, so I hand him a stick of gum instead.

  “Come on, hot mama. You get to strut out first tonight,” Dillon says as he waves for Max to proceed. As Max stomps by him, Dillon smacks him none too politely on the backside, causing the guys to lose it again.

  Seconds later, we hear the audience go wild. Curious, I edge closer to the stage to get a look at him. And there he is, center stage wielding his guitar, in all that drag queen glory—totally owning it.

  Max strums the first chords of a sultry rendition of “Santa Baby” and the place is eating it up. Bringing his glossy red lips to the microphone, he croons out, “Santa buddy, just slip a paddle under the tree for me. Been an awful naughty boy, Santa buddy.”

  The crowd goes wi
ld, making me miss some of his revised lyrics. They pipe back down, so I’m able to catch him singing in a gravelly voice, “Think of all the fun I didn’t miss. Think of all the babes I got to kiss.”

  Of course, they go crazy again—women jumping up and down, screaming with all their might.

  Dillon growls from beside me. “The bet was he had to sing the original in a girly voice.”

  Jewels laughs. “Somehow, Max has turned drag queen into a sexy masculine art form. Sexxyy! The women are eating it up!”

  And she’s right. The female fans are to the point of losing their crazed minds over him.

  “Santa dude, there’s one babe I really do need, you see. Santa dude, please for me.”

  Max exaggerates each word in the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard him produce.

  “So hurry over to my tour bus tonight.”

  The song concludes and a woman in the front row faints. No joke! Others are jumping around in tears. Good glory!

  The rest of the band saunters on stage and this packed-out theater goes berserk. They are roaring in maddening excitement.

  Dillon eases up and slings his arm over Max’s shoulder as he speaks into the mic. “Max was foolish enough to make a bet with me, so tonight y’all reap the benefits of his loss.” He has to pause with the place erupting in raucous laughter and catcalls. “Ain’t he purty?” They go crazy again.

  Max is getting in the spirit of it and does a little shimmy before twirling around. Mave taps out that vava voom drumbeat as Marilyn blows kisses at the audience.

  These guys certainly know how to work a crowd. I can bet this audience won’t be forgetting the show they saw performed here tonight for a very long time. I know I won’t!

  •♫•♫•♫•

  The adrenaline overload is still playing through my restless body at two in the morning. Unable to sit still, I wander out of my bedroom and decide to head next door to the larger condo. We all meet there for breakfast, so I want to get some dough proofing for cranberry orange bread. I’m going over the ingredients in my head when I plow right into Logan’s broad back.

  He whips around to steady me as I rub the sting out of my mushed nose. “Easy, little lady.”

  I extract myself from his arms and look around. The entire band is mulling around outside in the dark, dressed head to toe in black. Each one even has a black beanie shoved over their heads. I spot Will in the midst of them and go on the offense.

  “What are you guys doing out in the middle of the night dressed like burglars? And shame on you for dragging Will along in your mess.”

  “You caught us!” Max grabs me up and tosses me over his shoulder before I can register what he’s doing. “And I’m stealing you.” I’ll be darned if he doesn’t start running off with me.

  “Maxim King, bring her back!” Jewels yells. He returns me by her side and gently places me back on my feet before slinking away. “Y’all forgot a bag.”

  And that’s when I really take in the scene. The guys are loading up the gift bags I filled earlier and Jewels is handing one over to Dillon. That sweet burglar kisses her like there’s no tomorrow before she scoots back inside.

  “The lovely lady speaks up when it matters. I like it,” Logan croons out as he slides into the SUV. Good glory. The man is too smooth to just speak a word.

  It finally dawns on me what they are doing. “Secret Santa?”

  “We prefer Christmas Ninjas,” Will says, all tough as he climbs in the back with Logan and Trace.

  “Those are some tight sleuthing skills, doll,” Mave says close to my ear, tickling the skin with his warm breath and stealing mine. “We’ll take care of Will. Promise.”

  As I stand here and watch these incredible men drive off on a generous mission, embarrassment washes over me. That’s what I get for trying to get up in their business.

  It takes no time to form the dough, so I plant myself in a lounge chair and watch the blue pool water shimmer from the nightlights surrounding the yard. An hour more passes before I hear the guys return.

  “You’re a night owl or just having trouble sleeping tonight?” Mave asks as he claims the chair beside mine. Pulling the beanie off his head, he runs his hand through the dark mop. It doesn’t help the mess in the least. If anything, the tousled mess looks even more rumpled and appealing.

  The view is too much, so I shift my gaze back to the pool. “Yeah. Always have been. I like to do my baking at night.”

  “Oh yeah. Got anything baked up now? I could use some food. All those burglaries have worked up a mean appetite.” He laughs at his own joke. I do not.

  “Sorry about that. It’s none of my business what you guys do. I just saw Will with y’all and got worried.”

  “No worries, doll. We all got a pretty good laugh off it.”

  “Glad I amuse you.” I huff out. I chance looking back at him and ask, “Why do y’all do it? And in the middle of the night, no less.”

  He peers over the pool as he answers me—his mood shifting to somber. “We didn’t grow up in the land of good and plenty. More like the land of sparse and far in between. When we were kids, clothes or food would always show up on our porch and always on time with us needing it. And that’s all God.” He offers a small smile. “He put this tour on our hearts. These people are counting on these answered prayers that have been showing up in the middle of the night, whether they realize it or not.”

  “But why in the middle of the night?”

  “Matthew 6:3 tells us, ‘But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.’” Mave quotes the verse and I’m quite impressed. He really does read his Bible. “We want to give back, but don’t want the band to get credit for it. It loses the gift-giving blessing if people know.”

  “Wow. You guys just completely blow me away. How do you know who to minister to?”

  “That’s all Tate and Blake. They scope out situations near each concert venue. They find out the needs and send you out to grab it all up. Thanks for doing your part, by the way.”

  “Don’t give me any credit. I didn’t even realize I was helping. Plus, I’m getting paid, which feels really wrong now.” My head shakes in disappointment at that. I’ll have to have a talk with Jewels about keeping the paychecks. The experience in itself is payment enough.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Mave’s stern warning echoes in the stillness.

  “What?”

  “We all make a paycheck during this tour and you are, too.”

  “But—”

  “No lip.” Mave grabs my hand, I think to shut me up, but seems to decide to keep it. He rests our entwined hands together on the armrest of my chair and it really feels nice. There’s something about the calloused strength of his grasp that emits pure comfort.

  “You’re bossy.”

  “So I’ve been told. Now tell me something, Miss Izzy Walker. Why am I just meeting you, if we’re neighbors back home?”

  “You live in that gated fortress beside my little cabin?” He nods. “I didn’t realize. I keep to myself mostly.”

  “I’ve noticed. Me and the guys have been out in California a bit lately, but I still can’t believe I’ve not run into you one time. Jewels told me Southern Twist is you and your mom’s bakery. Now I’ve been in there frequently, and that Beth is one sweet lady.”

  I can’t help but smile at him complimenting my mom. “I stay in the back. Either in the kitchen or office.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re not hiding anymore.”

  His thumb is tracing a tight circle on my wrist, causing my pulse to race up several notches. I guarantee he feels it.

  “Why?”

  Mave’s deep chuckle sounds. “You ask a lot of questions when those sweet lips decide to work.”

  Well, now I’m blushing like a fool and trying to remove my hand from his, but he’s not allowing it. I give it a good yank as I stand up with him finally relenting.

  “Good night, Mave.”

  “G
ood morning, doll.”

  That sounds a lot like flirting, but I’m too flabbergasted to acknowledge it. Instead, I rush away quickly like the scared girl I am.

  Chapter Seven

  Mave

  Texas was tight. Talk about a straight-up natural high that I flew on all the way up north. We should coin this The Zigzag Tour with all the weaving we’re doing all over this country. Tonight, it’s Chicago then back down south to New Orleans in two days. We’ve got a gala thing tomorrow night that raises money for our charity—Music Notes. It’s a program that helps to give underprivileged kids access to music in the forms of lessons, instruments, and music camps. I’m proud to call it ours, so wearing some fancy suit and eating some fancy meal is worth it.

  “What about just going to bed after the concert for a change?” Trace whines. The baby isn’t even here yet, and he’s already sounding like an old man.

  Ben’s uncle is hosting us at his lake house just north of Chicago after the show tonight. The crowd is itching to let off some steam in private.

  Tate enters the backstage lounge, announcing, “Fifteen minutes.” He plops down beside Izzy on the couch and playfully nudges her in the side.

  She offers him a small smile before scanning the room. When her eyes come to a stop on me, I can’t help but smile in satisfaction. I don’t realize I’ve stopped tapping the beat out on the stool tops in front of us, until Will begins tapping the tune out on my shoulder with one of his sticks. I tap him in the head once before we go back to practicing our routine for the night.

  Without looking away from me, Izzy asks, “We’ll be on private property. How about shooting off some fireworks?”

  The room rumbles in unison, “No!”

  “Last time we goofed around with fireworks, some of us ended up in jail,” Dillon says as he eyes his pretty girl.

  “Let’s not revisit that tonight, Dimples.” Jewels shudders dramatically as she leans into Dillon.

  One glimpse at Izzy shows she’s completely lost.