Falling Away

by Penelope Douglas

  And everything was black. The walls, the furniture, the equipment, the floors, the ceiling, and even the employee dress code.

  But by far the best feature was the theaterlike stage. Intricate old-world design still survived in the carving of the frame surrounding the wide and high platform. With the full-on black, this place felt like a cave hidden away from the rest of the world where hard music gave the finger to the world outside.

  “You want a drink?” I asked, putting my hand on her back.

  She widened her eyes, curling her lips in a nervous smile. “I think I might need one.”

  I smiled to myself, leading her over to the bar. I still hadn’t figured out why I wanted to bring her here, but she hadn’t run away yet, so …

  She stopped at the bar, turning to look at me as the bartender stepped over.

  “You won’t get carded,” I said, knowing what she was thinking.

  “Uh.” She held the railing of the bar, tapping her fingers. “Parrot Bay and pineapple juice, please,” she ordered, and then immediately looked at me. “And shut up,” she scolded.

  “I’m not laughing.” I laughed. “I told you. I like that you’re a girly girl.”

  And I did. Jared loved Tate’s no-nonsense, tomboy demeanor, but that had never been my thing. Juliet reminded me that the world could be pretty and soft.

  I paid for her drink and my bottle of water and took her over to one of the high tops facing the stage. Disturbed’s “Stupify” beat over the sound system, and I leaned down, placing my forearms on the table and trying to look relaxed.

  But while everyone else around us talked and smiled, moved and bobbed their heads to the music, I felt as if my tongue was stuck in my throat. It was like this every time I came here.

  Knowing she was in here somewhere.

  I let the rush of blood heat up my chest, and I tried to keep my legs under me, because I was so nervous. I thought Juliet would be a distraction tonight, but unfortunately I had to pay more attention to my breathing than usual. I looked around the room when I really just wanted to look at her.

  Why was I showing her this? Why, when I hadn’t even shown Jared?

  I clenched the water bottle instead of running my hand through my hair. I’d been better at reminding myself that I no longer had hair, so I learned to stop myself before I ran into the short hairs that I still hadn’t gotten used to.

  It wasn’t bad, actually. I liked the haircut. But as Juliet and I got closer, I realized I was changing more and more. I’d abandoned my routine, changed my style, and Jared and I were constantly fighting. None of which was her fault, but it still proved to me that I was spiraling. Up or down, I wasn’t sure.

  “Okay.” She let out a sigh, sounding frustrated. “I’ve been patient for three days, and—”

  I jerked my head to the stage as the lights—what little there were—began to dim.

  “Here,” I interrupted, tipping my chin to the band coming out.

  She stopped talking and turned her attention to the two guitarists, the bassist, and the drummer strolling out. All four members of Skull Feathers—the name clearly taken from the name of the club or vice versa—took up their instruments as the music stopped and the crowd started cheering and calling out.

  “Who …?” Juliet looked to me, confusion written all over her expression.

  I held up a finger, asking her to wait.

  The drummer pounded twice, sending fire shooting up from the two flamethrowers on each side of the stage, and Juliet laughed, probably out of shock. Her eyes shot to me, lit up with awe.

  I smiled and watched her. I’d seen the show before, after all. A hundred times.

  The glow from the flames blazed across her face, making her green eyes dance with light. Her mouth was open slightly, and the amazement in her expression was like looking at a child seeing fireworks for the first time. Entranced, she followed every movement with her eyes.

  The band started, the heavy vibrations of the drums humming through our bodies, and the crowd went wild. Pounding feet, banging heads, jumping, losing themselves. The band was doing a cover of Rob Zombie’s “Dragula,” and when the crowd cheered louder, I knew who was onstage, but I didn’t look.

  I had to see Juliet see this for the first time. If she was grossed out, I’d whisk her away and apologize. If she liked it…. Well, I doubted she would. This show wasn’t for most.

  “Wha …” She looked to me, the question in her eyes, but she hurriedly turned back to the stage.

  I watched her, knowing what she was seeing.

  She was watching a dark-haired woman, midthirties, who wasn’t in the band. She didn’t play an instrument, she didn’t sing, and she didn’t dance.

  “Oh, my God.” Juliet’s eyebrows, pinched together, and that was when I saw it.

  The realization of what was happening. Her eyes flared, and her head cocked to the side as she watched, completely interested.

  And I closed my eyes and smiled, relief flooding me. She wasn’t scared.

  Turning my body around, I stood up straight and gulped down half the bottle of water, before fixing my eyes on the woman onstage.

  Her black corset shaped her waist, giving it a beautiful natural curve. The frilly black ruffled underwear brought everyone else’s attention to her behind when she walked across the stage, and the tall black top hat tipped lower in the front, covering eyes I knew were hazel. Her black hair hung in an abundance of curls down her back, and her black midcalf boots and the black pearls around her neck completed her goth-steampunk flair.

  Her full lips were red, and her eye shadow was a deep purple, but these didn’t distract from the natural beauty she possessed—her high cheekbones, slanted eyes, and olive skin.

  She was utterly beautiful, vibrant, and the life of this place. Everything and everyone revolved around her here.

  Her head swayed, and her wrists rotated to the music. She smiled, sang along to the hard music, taunting the crowd to scream louder for her.

  And behind her, the two stagehands, looking exactly as though they belonged here in their long dreads and black shorts, shirts, and boots, continued to grab the metal hooks hanging from the ceiling.

  My eyes flashed to Juliet. Her eyes were full of amazement, and I could tell everything she was feeling just by her expressions.

  Narrowed eyes? Confusion. Wide eyes? Whoa. Chin up with narrowed eyes? Interested.

  Looking back up to the stage, I saw the woman smile at the crowd, holding up her arms and looking like a goddess. I couldn’t see her back, but I knew what was about to happen. I tipped my head back, a rush hitting my chest as the cables lifted her into the air.

  “Jax?” Juliet said, sounding as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “She’s hanging. From hooks.”

  A smile spread over my face, and I leaned down on the table again.

  “It’s called body suspension. Weird, huh?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. But”—she tipped her head back, watching as the woman spun around in the air, her skin stretched where the four hooks held her—“she … she kind of looks …”

  “What?” I pressed, urging her on.

  “Like an angel. She kind of looks like a dark angel, doesn’t she?”

  I glanced back up, remembering my first time seeing what she was seeing. The woman was suspended above the crowd, dark and menacing, but completely stunning in her power. She held the attention, the eyes, and the hearts of everyone in this room.

  Nearly everyone.

  “I didn’t know people did things like this,” Juliet said thoughtfully, “but she’s really beautiful.”

  I looked back up, the purple, red, and white feathers in the woman’s hat contrasting with all the black in the room. “Her name is Storm Cruz,” I told Juliet. “She owns this club.”

  Juliet’s gaze left the woman and turned to me. “You know her?” she asked.

  I barely shook my head, looking way. “We’ve never met.”

  “But you come he
re to watch her shows.”

  “Here and other venues where she performs,” I admitted.

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I looked up at the woman’s body swinging around and around above us, wishing just once that she’d look down at me.

  My voice was a whisper when I spoke. “She’s my mother.”

  Juliet was quiet, but I could tell she was waiting for me to say something. I punched the clutch and shifted into sixth gear, taking a deep breath.

  “She was eighteen when she had me,” I started. “Despite her drug and alcohol use, I was born healthy. But she left me.” I ran my hand through my hair, thinking about me as a baby. Crying in the hospital. Helpless. The state probably wondering what to do with me.

  “She abandoned me at the hospital. No birth certificate had been filed, so they didn’t know who my father was until he tracked me down a couple of years later.” And I wished he never had. “It still took him a while and a paternity test to get ahold of me, but she, on the other hand, never looked back.”

  “You don’t know that, Jax. I’m sure she was messed up at the time,” Juliet said, trying to make me feel better.

  But I didn’t feel bad. Not about losing a mother I never had. Or losing a father I hated. I guess I just wanted to be acknowledged.

  “I don’t blame her,” I allowed. “Who knows what my father did to her, after all? She escaped. Did what she had to do. She’s happy, and successful, and living her life on her terms …” I trailed off and then added, “And she’s clean. Totally on top of her game right now. I was really happy to see her happy.”

  It was a comfort to know that my mother—or the woman who gave birth to me—was taken care of. Whether she deserved it or not, I would’ve cared.

  “But,” I ventured, “she hasn’t looked for me. That I do know.”

  And if she wanted to know me, she would’ve tried to find me. Hell, my footprint in the system rivaled the president’s. The system had my entire life documented, coded, and stored. That’s what happens when you grow up in foster care.

  “What does Jared say about this?” she asked.

  “Jared doesn’t know. The only person I ever confided in was Madoc.”

  I glanced over at her, seeing the confusion in her eyes before she looked away. Madoc was easier to talk to, and when I needed to confide in someone, I considered him the safer bet.

  “Jared thinks that everything hurts me,” I admitted. “He doesn’t want me to worry or struggle or be unhappy. He would take one look at her and think she was bad for me.” The outfit, the environment, the suspension … “Exactly what he thought about you,” I teased her, smirking.

  “Me?”

  I nodded. “You knew I wanted you in high school. But I never pursued you. You didn’t wonder why?”

  “You did pursue me,” she blurted out, laughing. “You flirted with me all the time.”

  I let out a condescending chuckle. “Baby, if I pursued you, I would’ve had you,” I threatened, reaching my hand over and running it up her thigh.

  “Jared thought I was too wild for K. C. Carter,” I explained. “He thought we’d have fun, and then you’d come to your senses and dump me on my ass.”

  A smile brightened her face, and she unfastened her seat belt, leaning over close to my ear. My eyes drifted closed as she kissed my neck, and I forced them open again to stay focused on the road.

  “So he didn’t trust me?” she whispered, her breath tickling my skin, making me clench the wheel.

  “Are you saying he was wrong?” I taunted.

  “I’m saying I’m tired of people telling me who I am.” She leaned in close to my face and gave me a disappointing, quick peck on the cheek. “Go to the Black Debs, okay?”

  The tattoo shop Jared frequents?

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Just go.”

  When we got back to town, I parked along the curb across from the shop, seeing the lights on, but the OPEN sign off.

  I turned to tell her, but her car door slammed shut, and she was already rounding the front of the car, carrying her black journal with her.

  Shit.

  I shook my head, wondering what the hell was going on. She needed a tattoo? Right now?

  But I still hurried my ass out of the car.

  Jogging across the street, I followed her into the shop and spotted Aura, Jared’s artist, munching on half a sandwich as she pored over some sketches.

  She looked up and stopped chewing as Juliet strutted right through the half door leading to the back.

  “Can you fit me in?” Juliet asked.

  Aura peered around her to look at me, probably hoping I’d explain.

  We knew each other. I’d come here with Jared, and Aura had been trying to convince me for years to get some ink. “You’d be hotter with some tattoos, kid,” she’d said.

  Yeah, because that was a reason to get tattoos.

  She must’ve done Juliet’s angel wings tattoo as well, because she seemed to know her way around.

  Aura held the sandwich close to her lips, finishing her bite. “The sign on the door did say ‘Closed,’ right?” Her snarky attitude ever present.

  Juliet opened her journal and flipped through the pages, tearing one out and handing it to Aura.

  “I want this,” she indicated. “Here.” She rubbed the inside of her wrist where her scar sat. “Please?” she asked, taking off the Gear on her wrist.

  I walked over, standing at Aura’s side and taking in the sketch Juliet had made. Actually it was text. The thick black letters in an intricate font read Non Domini.

  “What does that mean?” I looked up at Juliet.

  “It’s Latin. It means ‘no masters.’ ”

  She looked at me, holding my eyes as understanding passed between both of us.

  No mothers. No fathers. No gatekeepers. Non domini.

  I liked it.

  Snatching the paper out of Aura’s hand, I sat down in her chair. “Me first.”

  Juliet’s smile spread over her face. “You?” she said, her eyes lighting up. “You’re getting a tattoo?”

  I arched an eyebrow. “If you’re going to make a big deal out of this … ,” I warned.

  She shot out her hands. “No, no. I just don’t want you making quick decisions that you’ll cry over tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, well,” I explained, “I like it. It speaks to me.”

  Actually I loved it. It was me, and it was the first thing I didn’t mind having as a constant reminder every time I looked in the mirror. First thing that I felt I needed as a constant reminder.

  “Okay.” She nodded, accepting my answer.

  Coming up, Juliet kissed me on the lips and plopped her notebook in my lap. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be back in a minute.”

  She walked away, locking her hands behind her back to keep her skirt from swinging up as she walked.

  I shook with laughter no one heard and relaxed against the chair.

  “I like her,” Aura said softly, pushing up my T-shirt sleeve and cleaning the skin on my left biceps.

  “Glad you approve,” I mumbled.

  And then I looked down. “Hey, I thought she wanted hers on the inside of her wrist. Why are you cleaning my arm?”

  “She wants hers on the inside of her wrist. You’re getting yours on the biceps.”

  I rolled my eyes, feeling like Jared’s mom was talking to me. “You’re a ballbuster. I’m surprised you’re still in business.”

  I heard her snort. “You’ll love it, and you’ll be back for more.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed, just to shut her up.

  I splayed my hand across the cover of Juliet’s journal sitting in my lap and fanned the pages, flipping through to see if she had any other tattoo ideas.

  Her pen, clipped to the top of the journal, held her place, and I saw a journal entry.

  Close it. Close the book.

  I was closing it.

  I meant to close it.

  But I didn’t.
r />   Dear K.C.,

  I read once that the best thing that can happen to a woman is to get her heart broken. Before that, she has no real sense of herself. No real sense of pain, because only in love does she know what it’s like to find the one thing that gives her breath and then to lose it.

  After that, she knows she can survive. No matter what relationships come and go, she can count on herself to pull through, and although it hurts, the break is necessary.

  I woke up this morning before Jax did, and I started crying. I realized he was my first love—the one that should break my heart—and when he jumped off that cliff, I realized how much it would hurt to lose him.

  What if he doesn’t love me? What if he breaks my heart? He’s not the one I wanted to learn this lesson on.

  I never cried over losing Liam. I cried over his treatment, but I picked myself back up almost immediately.

  The thought of losing Jax makes my throat tight, and I can’t help it. I’m trying to be casual. To act like we’re just having fun, because I know that’s what he wants, but I don’t feel that.

  I love him.

  I love him so much, and I don’t want to, because I don’t think he’s ready to hear it. Why did my heart have to fall for him so quickly?

  I closed my eyes and dropped the book to my lap.

  CHAPTER 25

  JULIET

  Missed u last night.

  I stared down at the text I’d sent Jax two hours ago when I woke up. The same text I still hadn’t gotten a response to yet.

  “Should I pick you up after school?” Fallon asked next to me from the driver’s seat.

  I clutched the phone in my lap. “I don’t know,” I mumbled, unease twisting my stomach.

  Where the hell was he?

  After the tattoo sessions last night—during most of which Jax was silent—he’d said he wanted to me to stay with Fallon and Madoc until he’d upped the security on his house and Tate’s. When I questioned that Tate was still staying in her house, he’d shot back with “She is Jared’s responsibility,” and he wasn’t taking any chances with me.