A Bleu Streak Christmas

by T. I. Lowe

  •♫•♫•♫•

  Tonight was not my best night. Thankfully, Dillon had my back and nixed mine and Will’s drum duet. There’s no way I could have concentrated enough to keep up with the kid, much less catch flying sticks on cue.

  I pull on a pair of boxers, being mindful not to hit the angry area on my leg. The shower did no good, so now I’m praying sleep will be kind, but I have my doubts. My dumb leg is thumping in agony more intense than I could ever beckon from my bass drum. It’s close to overbearing to put any weight on that leg. Stupid injury.

  A knock sounds at the door, so I hobble over and find Izzy on the other side with a big bag and laptop.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Watch a movie with me.” She doesn’t wait for my reply. Instead, she steps around me and lets herself in.

  I keep standing by the door, trying to figure out a way to kick her out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Izzy

  Never have I felt so bad about something in all my life. The concert was painful to witness tonight. Mave’s eyes held a storm of pain while he took it out on his drums. I’m not sure the gum did any good. I watched helplessly as his jaw flexed throughout the entire performance. He also didn’t lend his vocals to any of the songs. It’s impossible to imagine how severe it would be to have a broken bone and stitches with no pain meds to dull it.

  “I won’t be good company,” he mutters, still standing by the open door.

  My focus is setting up the laptop and not letting him push me away. “That’s what everyone keeps warning me about. Dillon says it’s best to leave you alone when you’re like this, but I want your company, so tough.”

  “I’m a walking catastrophe. It’s best you keep your distance.”

  “You’re not the most accident-prone person I’ve ever met, so stop trying to make yourself so special,” I tease, but see his jaw start working in all seriousness.

  “I’ve overdosed on drugs. You heard me in the ER.” He slams the door and limps over to me, holding his arm out. “You see this eagle? It’s to remind me never to stick a needle in my arm ever again, and the only high I ever need to soar on is God’s grace. It’s something I will have to fight the rest of my life.”

  “But you said you’re not defined by your past.”

  “I’m not, but I still have to live with the consequences of it. I can’t go back and you don’t deserve to be caught up while I’m dealing with it.” He rubs his hands through his hair, sending it standing on end—even it looks frustrated.

  “You done?”

  “Done with what?” he growls.

  “Self-loathing, because I’m really ready to watch this movie. Before we can do that, I need to help you get your leg propped up and iced.” I point at his leg. “You also need to take some Ibuprofen to help with the swelling.”

  He gives me no more lip. Instead, he throws on a T-shirt and eases onto the bed, grumbling under his breath. A grouchy Mave is definitely interesting. It’s sort of cute, but I won’t be sharing that with him. After setting several pillows under his swollen leg, I gently place an icepack on top of his angry shin.

  “Here,” I say, handing over two pills with a small bottle of water. Once he’s downed them, I tap the eagle inked in the crook of his arm. “Isaiah 40:31 is one of my favorite Bible verses and I think this is my favorite tattoo.” I smile, but he doesn’t return it.

  “I’m not in the mood for some dumb romantic comedy or chick flick,” he grumbles.

  “Good. Neither am I. I’ve got us the new crime thriller.”

  He tosses the empty water bottle into the small trash can and crosses his arms.

  “I got you caramel cupcakes and a quart of milk.” I pull the white bakery box out of my bag and open the lid to show off the oversized cupcakes inside.

  He actually uncrosses his arms and accepts my treats. I’m not sure how well my plan works, but by the end of the movie, the cupcakes and milk are gone and I think he yelled enough at the laptop screen to scar it for life. Let’s just say the movie got on his last nerve. He grumbled about it being stupider than that book I had him read. All I know is, his mind was preoccupied for a while from his leg and problems, and so I considered the night a small success.

  All I want is to let him know he doesn’t have to go through this or anything else alone. I want more than I should to be there for him. Maybe he’s trying to scare me away, but I see no possible way to walk away from Maverick King.

  •♫•♫•♫•

  Today isn’t any better for Mave. It’s worse, actually. He awoke today unable to bear any weight on the leg. Crutches and more icepacks have arrived with pretty much the entire crowd camped out in his hotel room.

  Ben joins us this afternoon. Holding a tube up, he says, “Good news. Topical numbing cream. Put it on your leg around the stitches and it’ll help with some of the pain. Do not put it on Blake’s mouth to shut him up.” We all chuckle at his joke, except for Blake and Mave.

  I grab it from him and gently rub the cream around the wound. It works pretty fast, because my fingertips are numb as numb can be. Thank goodness, Mave will get a little relief.

  “Bad news is I can’t let you on the stage tonight. Will says he’ll be glad to fill in for you.” Ben rocks on his heels as though he’s waiting for Mave to explode.

  He doesn’t have to wait very long.

  “No way! It’s my leg. Not my arms, and the bone is only chipped!” he yells. His eyes instantly redden.

  “What kind of family would we be if we let you work through an injury? I already suck for making you work last night. No one told me the bone was chipped,” Ben yells back.

  Oh… This man is good. He knows just how to manipulate these guys into getting what he wants. I’ve noticed one thing in particular with Mave. He doesn’t want anyone to ever feel guilty, so Ben just played right into that. The whole group looks on with downcast expressions. Those stinkers are playing him, too. I don’t blame them, though. They want him to get better and won’t waiver until he does.

  Where did this dynamic group of people come from?

  “Can I stay back with him?” I ask Ben.

  “Absolutely. I’d really appreciate it, if you did. I’ve got a doctor popping in here shortly to check on you, Mave. He already knows the no-narcotics-drill. He said he may give you something for inflammation. I gave him permission for that only.”

  “Thanks, man,” Mave mumbles as he readjusts on his pillows, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

  Later this evening, when everyone departs for the concert, Mave visibly deflates. I had a feeling it was coming, so I’ve already ordered him a southern spread for supper that I lucked up finding with some research.

  He hobbles out from taking a shower and stops in shock. Pointing to the tray I have placed by the recliner, he asks, “Where’d that come from?”

  “There’s this famous soul food restaurant close by. I even talked to the owner to make sure she knew how to properly make sweet tea. You’re in luck!” I pat the chair for him to have a seat. He discards the crutches by the chair and plops down before pushing it back to recline. I can’t help but run my hand through his damp hair and give him a kiss. “You smell yummy.”

  “You can have me for supper,” he flirts, sounding more like himself.

  I ignore him and work on propping a pillow under his leg to elevate it even more. “Let’s get some of this fried chicken and macaroni and cheese in you so you can take that anti-inflammatory medicine.”

  I don’t have to tell him twice. He digs in and doesn’t stop until all of the containers are empty and the gallon of tea is drained. Where does he put it? Seriously, the man can eat an obscene amount of food.

  We move over to the bed after this, and I curl into his side and play my fingers through the short beard developing along his defined jawline. “This not shaving is very attractive on you.”

  He sighs deeply and pulls me closer to him, and I’m very content with that.

&n
bsp; “I battle addiction, Izzy.”

  I keep my face buried in the crook of his neck and enjoy the feel of him playing in my hair. “You’ve already told me that.”

  “Yeah, but I have a new addiction.”

  My hand stills. “What is it?”

  “You. I’m addicted to your quiet calm. I’m always restless, but you’ve become a balm for it. You soothe me. I know we’ve only known each other just shy of not very long, but being on a concert tour packs a lot of life in a short period. In rock nation time, we’ve already known each other close to three years.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, and you’re an addiction I’m not going to be able to give up. You’ve already shown me you can put up with my issues.” He slightly raises his leg before gingerly placing it back on the pillow. “Please let me keep you.”

  I lift up and kiss him for my response. What starts off soft and slow, quickly turns into heated and wild. The man kisses like he plays his drums—passionately with wicked skill. I weave my hands in his lush locks and hold on to the moment for as long as I can.

  Clanging at the door, followed by a loud hoot has me bolting off the bed.

  “Ah ha! Caught you making out with my boy instead of tending to his needs.” Max tsks. He crosses his arms, but the grin gives his playfulness away.

  “She was tending to me just fine until you interrupted.” Mave huffs, crossing his arms with no playfulness to be found.

  Max ignores him and sits on the edge of the bed. “Concert went fine. Will was great. Dillon let everyone know you tried out for the Olympic figure skating category, but ended up with a booboo instead. We did the backstage pass thing and your fans wanted to know why you weren’t waiting in the lounge to sign autographs.”

  “I could have done that.” Mave huffs some more.

  “No way would we have kept you off that stage if you were that close. Seriously, bro. You need to stay off the leg to let it heal.” Max pulls his phone out. “Your social media is blowing up. They want pics of the leg.”

  “They want to see his injury?” I ask, dumbfounded.

  “Oh they eat that mess up, babe. You should peruse Mave’s Instagram. It chronicles all his injuries over the last several years. It’ll be a good indicator of what you’re getting yourself into.” He gets a pillow to the head by Mave for that comment.

  Max turns his attention back to his brother and snaps several pictures, some of just the leg and a few of Mave laid up on the bed with only the lounge pants on. I’m not crazy about those shots going viral.

  Max heads towards the door and pauses. “Oh yeah. More good news. Ben says you can perform the New Year’s Eve bash if you keep off the leg and use the crutches when you can’t. He says to practice ‘Renewal’ while you rest.”

  “Done,” Mave answers with a little spark to his voice.

  Max waves and is back out the door as abruptly as he entered.

  Turning back to my handsome patient, I smile with excitement. “You’re going to sing.”

  “Guess I am. I’ll need my journal from the bus.”

  I’m about to rush to get on that, but his warm grasp stops me. “I need another kiss first. Baby, you’ve got to keep kissing me back to better.”

  Well, who am I to deny him that!

  He whispers along my lips, “I agree with Grace. You should let me keep you forever.” He deepens the kiss for a spell before pulling back. “Izzy, I’m in love with you.”

  My response is as immediate as the tears that spring to my eyes. “I’m in love with you, too.” Wrapping my arms around his neck, I caress this unexpected gift in an unrushed embrace.

  After the tears dry and my heart settles into contentment, I place a kiss on his cheek and skip out the door to find him his journal. An exhilarating feeling follows me around and keeps whispering that my life is just beginning.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mave

  The start of a new beginning goes down at midnight tonight, suckers!

  Times Square is a madhouse. I feel like a gimp with having my bodyguard push me around in a flipping wheelchair, but Ben ordered it and what the man says goes. We’re hulled up in a lounge, and I’ve taken up position in a leather recliner for the day as we watch the streets below form into a human sea.

  I’ve mostly kept my eyes on my doll. Jewels needs a special gift for taking my girl shopping again. Izzy looked like a snow princess back in Chicago, but tonight in New York, babe looks like a rock goddess—off the shoulder black dress with several studded belts hanging recklessly on her fine hips and killer black boots that look dangerous. Smoky eyeshadow and glossy lips gives her an air of mysteriousness, tempting me to work on slowly figuring out for the rest of my life—seems fitting for my mystery-reading doll.

  Problem is she looks too dang good and all the men in the room agree, with their unwelcoming eyes zeroed in on her. She’s not left my side, though. And when a dude does brave it to approach, she’s quick to grab my hand. Yeah, my chest is puffed out with that. Man, I’m in crazy-love with her. There’s no doubt that’s what this is, because I have never felt this way before. Izzy says I march to the beat of my own drum, but the babe altered the beat the day I met her. I never want that beat to change.

  I’m restless with wanting to give her the gift I have shoved deep in my dress pants pocket, but I’m gonna try to rein it in until midnight.

  “Thanks for my new duds,” I say close to her ear, while tapping a beat on her hips. All that lovely hair is half-pulled up in a mock-mohawk, and so I’m taking full advantage of all that soft exposed skin along her neck.

  She wiggles around on my lap. “You look very handsome.” She smiles that sweet smile for me, running her fingers along my beard stubble.

  Izzy gets me. I dress with my drums in mind and not for fashion. She’s outfitted me in a vintage tee with a zip-up hoodie along with these kicking dress pants, instead of a dress shirt and jacket, so that I can work my drums without anything binding me.

  “These Vans are killer-cool.” We both look down at the black slip-ons she bought me to accommodate my swollen foot and stitches.

  “It’s show time!” Tate hollers out and we all hoot and holler back. Izzy hands me my crutches that I finally talked Ben into letting me use to get on stage. No way was I pansying out there in a wheelchair. The doctor fitted me with one of those removable braces, so the stitches don’t get rubbed. Is it comfortable? Heck no! I’ll endure it, as long as I get a pass on stage.

  We’re the last act before the ball drops and the adrenaline coursing through me can hardly be contained as I position myself behind my drums, feeling home again. Dillon said to launch right into the song, so get on with it. The crowd is deafening as I tap the first beats. There are only two songs before I close it out, and it’s all I can do not to come out of my skin. Ignoring the throb in my sore leg, I lose myself in the beats and soar on the natural high of performing. We all join Dillon and sing like it’s the end. The mass of bodies sway as we do so, until the last note is played, causing that human sea to undulate wave after wave. The place is infectious and my skin comes alive with tingles.

  “Hello, New York!” Dillon shouts into the mic, causing the fans to lose it. “Y’all ready for a New Year?”

  They all shout the agreements. I hear them, but don’t see them. My eyes are trained on my doll beside the stage. She sees only me, too. I mouth, “I love you.” She returns it, making me feel on top of the world.

  “I know we are super stoked for the year ahead. We got some weddings on the way and a baby and a new album!” Dillon gives out way too much information there.

  The crowd hits hysteria.

  “So I’m gonna sing you one more song, and then Mave is gonna limp out here and sing you one he personally wrote.”

  They erupt again. Izzy and Jewels are even jumping up and down by the edge of the stage. We hit it with “Crashing” as the place rocks out with us, but it’s over in a flash, with the voice in my earpiece telling me to move
to the front.

  Moments later, I’m switching spots with Dillon with my heart pounding in my ears. I readjust the earpiece, hoping the whooshing will calm, before the music starts. Dropping the crutches, I ease onto the edge of the stool and take in the vastness of the crowd.

  “The title of this song is “Renewal.” My voice comes out quiet for me. I have to pause with them screaming and clapping. “Pretty fitting for the new year. We all want new starts and chances at new beginnings. I’ve been granted more than I deserve, and so I want to dedicate this to the Man upstairs who blessed me with a second chance.”

  After the applause settle down, Dillon taps out the hushed beat with Max strumming the opening chords.

  Bending my head towards the mic, I finally allow the first lines I’ve held in my heart for years free. “You gave me it all, nothing short of it all.”

  The world settles around me, the restlessness fades as I regard Izzy off to my left briefly before shutting my eyes.

  The guys carry the slow melody as I continue, “So I owe it all to you, nothing short of it all. Tears poured out and faded it all away. Life paused short, before stumbling past yesterday.”

  The melody picks up as the guys join me for the chorus.

  “You renewed me. You allowed me to live. Gonna hold tight to this second chance. Won’t allow it to get away. You renewed me. You allowed me to live.”

  We repeat it before I steal another glance at Izzy. She’s wiping her eyes along with Jewels. The next verses I sing through a tight throat.

  “This second chance undeserved, but gonna take it and own it. Goodbyes had to be said, ghosts buried away with so much dread. Somehow, life kept going well past yesterday.”

  I float away on the chorus and bridge and don’t return until the music quietens and the crowd breaks out to deafening levels. The band surrounds me and hoists me up like I’m some champ. I’m not. God is the champ. Dude rescued me and I won’t be squandering this second chance.