by J. D. Brick
“What. . .Why are you giving me Blue's keys?” Kendra asks.
“Just read the note.” Bryson's eyes are fixed on me. I hear Kendra tearing open her envelope; the sound hurts my ears. I watch her reading and see her mouth make an O in surprise. Her eyes fly up to meet mine.
“He's giving me his car. Says he's not going to need it. What the hell? Where is Blue? What's going on?” Bryson doesn’t answer.
I rip open my envelope and pull out the piece of paper and the flash drive inside. I thumb through the money that’s in there too: several hundred dollar bills. “He spent all day recording in my studio.” Bryson's voice is soaked in sorrow. I just stare numbly at the device in my hand. “The songs, they're. . .incredible.”
The flash drive dissolves before my eyes. I blink away the tears and try to focus on what Blue has written.
Keegan:
By the time you read this, I'll be on the bus that goes to Fort Sill. I can hardly make myself write these words. I never wanted to hurt you and now I can see your face as you're reading this and I know that I am hurting you. I'm hurting you very much and I hate myself for it. I am so so sorry. I meant it when I promised to run away with you. I was going to do it. I swear.
But then I went to Bryson's office and when I walked in, he was sitting there playing one of his songs, one that I used to listen to all the time when I was a kid. It's a song about what true courage is, about what true love is. I used to wish Bryson could be my father instead of Bill. But when I was standing there listening to the song today I realized nothing Bill ever did was as bad, as cowardly, as what I was doing. I realized I can't go on like this, lying, running away. I can't let you pay the price for what I did. That's what Bill did to people. And I've been acting just like him.
I have to tell them what really happened in Afghanistan, Keegan. I have to do it. I have to face this. I'm sorry not to tell you in person. But I wasn't sure I could walk away from you if I did. I didn't trust myself even to tell you over the phone. I don't think I could stand to hear your voice.
I promise you that I will be back. I will come back to you!! But until I do, I need you to fight back. DO NOT give up the paper, DO NOT drop out!! Use the talent you have, use your writing ability and fight back. Make Lugner and Jason pay. Tell everyone what they did.
Use this cash to pay my part of next month's rent. The landlord's name and address are on the fridge. You guys will have to find somebody to move into my room.
I love you. I love you. God, I love you Keegan! Please forgive me. Please.
Blue
P.S. I wrote all these songs for you. I meant to record the set and give it to you for Christmas. I hope you like them. Bryson said they are really good. I think he meant it. I told him everything.
I love you.
“If there's anything I can do.” I raise my head slowly and watch Bryson twisting his hands as he speaks. “There's got to be something I can do.” His voice falters. “Blue has become like a son to me.”
I say nothing. My mind’s full of cotton and my tongue feels too big for my mouth. But then, as if I'd grabbed an electric fence, a shock jolts me to my feet. I run into the house and up the stairs to my room, kicking off my slippers and yanking on my boots, then grabbing a coat and my purse. I’m pulling my keys out of the purse when I get back to the front porch.
“Where's the bus station?” I yell at Bryson, running toward my car.
Bryson looks alarmed. “Corner of Birch and Sequoyah,” he calls back. “But it's too. . .”
I slam the car door and turn the key, shoving it into reverse.
“Keegan!” I hear Kendra shout. But I just shift into drive and press hard on the gas.
Only a couple of people—one man, one woman, several empty seats between them—are in the bus station when I yank open the door. They don’t even look up, just keep staring at the dingy gray floor tiles. I've never been in a bus station before; for some reason, in the seconds I stand there blinking under the harsh fluorescent lights, trying to figure out what to do next, I think of Megz. How many times has she been in places like this, all of her meager possessions in a cheap suitcase next to her? She'd told me once she's never been on an airplane. She looked ashamed over that.
I step up to the ticket counter and wait for the plump, middle-age woman sitting behind safety glass to look up from the magazine she’s reading. When she finally does, I find myself speechless. Whatever I planned to say has just skittered out of my brain like a cockroach suddenly exposed to the light.
“Yes?” Her tone’s so indifferent it makes me even more nervous.
“Um. . .I. . .” The man and woman in the worn-looking vinyl chairs are now staring at me.
“I need a ticket. I think.” I closed my eyes for a second. “Look. . .”
The lady behind the counter raises one bored eyebrow. I take a breath. “My boyfriend is on a bus to Fort Sill. At least I think he is.” I’m speaking in a rush now. “And I have to find him before he gets there. I have to talk to him.” I’m starting to cry. “He left without telling me, and he's going to do something that I know he'll regret. . .and. . .”
The attendant looks slightly less bored.
“I think he already left on a bus from here going to Fort Sill, and I need to catch up with him and get on the bus and talk to him before he gets to the base. So I guess I need a ticket? Or I need to know what to do. I mean, can you tell me if he's on the bus? His name is Blue Danube.”
The woman purses her lips and sighs. “I have a daughter your age. You girls, you just don't get it, chasing after these useless guys.” Her face softens a bit, and her voice follows suit. “Honey, they're not worth it. Believe me.”
“This one is worth it.” I pull out a credit card and slide it under the glass. “Can I catch up to the bus somewhere?”
She shakes her head, but picks up the card. “I can't tell you who is on that bus, honey. All I can tell you is that there's a bus that's already left here,” she looks at her watch, “about half an hour ago, and it's going to make three more stops before it gets to the base. So if you were to drive straight to the town of Percy, you'd probably beat the bus there.”
She pauses, waiting for me to say something. “So do you want a ticket from Percy to Fort Sill?”
I swallow. “Yes, yes I do.”
A few minutes later, ticket in hand, I floor it as I steer my Nissan back on to the highway, driving—as my Grandpa would have said—like a bat out of hell toward the town of Percy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Five Minutes
Keegan
The Percy bus station is smaller and shabbier-looking than the one in Hickory Flats. I park under one of the few working lights and glance at the clock on the dashboard before getting out. 9:10 PM. My ticket says the bus is due to leave Percy at 9:30.
I walk into the station, remembering just as the door swooshes shut behind me to hit the Lock button on my key fob. I haven't really considered what to do with my car if I’m taking a bus to Fort Sill. I haven’t really considered a lot of things.
No one’s waiting inside the ticket office. Another woman, a bit younger than the first one, sits behind security glass, earbuds in, moving her head to the music. I finger the ticket in my coat pocket and feel my heart fluttering in my throat. Water. I need a bottle of water.
I have to feed a crumpled dollar three times into the vending machine before a bottle drops into the bottom. I pull it out and unscrew the lid, gulping half of the water down. When I start to put the lid back on, it slips out of my fingers, hits the dusty floor and rolls under the machine. No way I am fishing it out.
I go outside, looking up the road, hoping to see the bus arriving. A guy in torn jeans and a hoodie is leaning against the wall, dragging on a cigarette. His eyes crawl all over me. My heart starts beating faster and louder. I go back inside.
I'd just taken another gulp of water when I see, through the dirty station window, the bus lumbering into view. I pull out my ticket and go
outside, standing on the curb, bouncing up and down on my toes, not sure if I’m excited or terrified. Or both. Creepy guy takes another drag and throws his butt on the ground, then smiles at me. The smile does not reach his eyes.
You sure as hell better be on that bus, Blue.
I choke on the exhaust that spews out of the bus as it comes to a stop in front of me. When the doors open, I hop on and then fumble in my purse when the driver asks for ID. Creepy guy’s standing so close behind me that I can smell his beery breath. I steal a glance into the darkened bus as the driver processes my ticket. I don’t see Blue.
Clutching my purse against my side, I walk slowly down the aisle, looking for Blue. Not many people on the bus and most of them seem to be sleeping. “Want to sit together?” Asshole is right behind me, his lips brushing my hair. I pull away from him.
“My boyfriend is on this bus. Back off.”
“Sure he is.”
I am beginning to panic. I can feel it seeping in as each step brings me closer to the back of the bus. And then I see Blue.
He’s only a couple of rows from the rear. He’s asleep, his head leaning against the window, the orange-tinted light from outside slanting across his face. I stop next to his seat and turn to glare at the guy behind me. He made a point of brushing against me as he slouched into the seat across from Blue. He reeks of smoke and body odor.
I stand there staring at Blue. His face is drawn, and he looks exhausted, even in sleep. I study his profile, the faint stubble that runs all the way from his sideburns down to the soft part of his throat. I want to cradle his face, kiss away the strain. But so many emotions have seared my spirit in the last few days. I am reeling from all of it. Anger ranks pretty high up there as one of those emotions. Some part of me is definitely pissed off.
I’m still holding the water bottle with about a quarter of the liquid in it. I didn't choose what I did next. Not consciously anyway. But my hand surges forward of its own accord, and I toss the water in Blue's face.
Blue
It might as well have been propane, followed immediately by a lit match, that hits me full in the face. I come roaring up out of my seat before my eyes are even fully open, my skin burning, in full flashback mode. I accidentally knock the bottle out of Keegan's hand. My hands automatically go for her throat and have already begun to tighten before I realize who it it, where I am.
“Blue.” She doesn’t even raise her voice or try to wrench my hands away. She’s crying. “Blue, it's me.” And I go from blazing hot to ice cold, just like that.
“Keegan.” I can do nothing more than whisper. “Keegan.” I grab hold of the seat back in front of me to steady myself. “What are you doing here? What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I'm going with you, Blue. If you're determined to do this, I'm going with you.”
“No, you're not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Keegan.” I place my hands on her shoulders. “You can't.”
“Everything all right back there?” the driver calls, and some dude next to us laughs.
“I guess her boyfriend really is on the bus,” he says sardonically.
I have to wipe a finger across my eyes to clear the water that’s blurring them. “Why did you throw water on me?
She goes, in an instant, from speaking quietly to yelling. “Because I'm so mad at you!” She pounds her fists against my chest. “How could you take off like that, Blue? How could you just sneak out of town and leave me with some stupid piece of paper? How could you?” She keeps pummeling me, and I let her. I want her to. But then she collapses against me and buries her face in my neck.
“I can't do this without you, Blue! she sobs. “I can't do my life without you. You've changed me too much. I don't want to. You have to take me with you. I can help you.”
I wrap my hand around her arm and begin to pull her toward the front of the bus. “No!” She yanks her arm out of my grasp. “I'm staying on!”
“Keegan!” I take her arm again, clenching my fist tightly, digging into her skin. I don’t want to hurt her. But I have to get her off the bus. She pulls back again, but this time I hold on.
“Hey!” the driver yells. “What the hell is going on back there?”
I drag Keegan down the aisle with me. “Dammit, Blue! Let go of me.” She starts kicking me.
I manage to get her to the front and stand panting in front of the driver. I’m still holding Keegan in an iron grip.
“If you two can't settle your little domestic dispute in the next minute, you're both off this bus,” the driver says, eying us with disdain.
I fish around in my pocket, trying to open my wallet and pull out a bill with one hand. I lift the bill up so I can see it. A fifty. I shove it toward the driver.
“Please,” I say in a low voice. “Five minutes. I just need five minutes with her, outside, and then I'll get back on.” I thrust the fifty at him again. “Please. Five minutes.”
Keegan’s stopped struggling; tears run down her cheeks. It breaks my heart. “Keegan, come talk to me outside for five minutes. If you still want to come with me after that, I won't try to stop you.”
She nods, and I inch the fifty-dollar bill toward the driver with my fingers. He glances swiftly back at the other passengers, then crumples the bill in his hand. “Five minutes, and this bus leaves,” he says.
I take Keegan's hand, leading her off the bus and over to the side of the station. As soon as we get out of sight, I pull her into my arms, my fingers on her face, and kiss her. It’s a desperate, greedy kiss; I push my lips against hers so hard she stumbles back against the wall of the building. Then I shove my tongue into her mouth, exploring, memorizing. She moans and matches her tongue to mine, her lips to mine. She grabs my face and kisses me back so hard, so completely, that for a moment, I weaken. Maybe there’s a way.
No. There is no other way.
We rest our heads together for a few moments, then kiss again, this time softly. I can taste tears, but I don’t know if they were mine or hers.
“I know what you're doing, Blue.” She clutches my hand. “You're saying goodbye. You. . .bastard. . .you're saying goodbye.”
I close my other hand around the back of her neck and whisper into her ear. “Listen to me. There's no way for you to go with me. Not now. They won't let you on the base. You'd be stuck there, and I couldn't help you. There's nothing you can do for me right now.”
She’s sobbing and shaking all over. “We can still run away, Blue! My car is right there. Come with me.” Dammit, come with me!”
“I can't. I just can't. I have to do this, Keegan. And there's nothing you can do for me right now, but there's something you can do for yourself. Like I told you in the note, you have to fight back. Use your gift. You're a journalist. Use that gift. Don't you dare give it up!”
I've just taken her face in both hands when I hear the driver's voice yelling. “This bus is leaving!”
Jabbing my eyes to clear them, I focus on each feature of Keegan’s face, locking them into my memory. “I have to go now, Keegan, okay? You have to go back to campus. Okay?”
Very slowly, she nods.
“I love you, bar girl. I will come back to you.”
It’s hardest thing I've ever done, pulling away from her. Her sobs burn my eardrums as I walk toward the bus. I hate myself. I fucking loath myself at that moment. She deserves better. I’ve got one foot on the first bus step when I think of something that makes me turn to see if Keegan has followed me. She’s standing a few feet away, watching me with an expression of such agony that my legs go weak. I grab the railing and start to just get on. But then I turn back to her.
“I need you to go to Tulsa.” I can barely speak. “Tell my mother. Tell her everything. And. . .will you take care of Max?”
Tears are spilling down her face. “Yes.”
I mouth the last words because no sound will come out: I love you. And, just as the bus doors close, I hear her shout, “I love you, Blue!”
My heart is already broken. It cracked in two the day my mother died. I can still remember the pain in my chest, a chisel cutting through my brittle teenage ribs and slicing the blood-pumping muscle in half as I watched her fingers slip out of my hand and turn white. It had healed, as most broken hearts eventually do—or so they tell us.
This is different. Watching the lights of the bus taking Blue away from me until they disappear causes my heart to implode. It doesn’t just break; it falls in fragments, dropping piece by piece from its place nestling between my lungs to somewhere around my feet. It hurts like hell. I want to die. I want to just give up and die.
But Blue wants me to fight back. He wants me to be strong. Fine. I'll fight back. I’ll fucking fight back.
An idea’s already forming in my mind, a plan. I swallow the lump in my throat and wipe my eyes, then pull a tissue out of my purse. I blow my nose with one hand as I search the Contacts list on my phone with the other. I need the ranch's main number. I haven’t called it in so long that I no longer have it memorized.
It rings about a dozen times before the housekeeper answers. I ask to speak to Virginia and walk quickly back to my car while I wait. I'd just clicked the car door to lock it when I hear her voice, husky from sleeping and worried.
“Keegan, what's wrong?”
“Virgi. . .Grandmother, I need your help.”
TANGLED UP IN BLUE IS BOOK ONE IN THE IKANA COLLEGE SERIES FROM AUTHOR J.D. BRICK.
BOOK TWO, SHELTER FROM THE STORM, WILL BE AVAILABLE SOON.
PLEASE VISIT JDBRICK.COM FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT THE SERIES AND THE AUTHOR.