“Why not? Matthew is a good man. He worked on Norma Jean’s as if it was his own restaurant. Plus, he gave Luke and me the crown molding for free. That high quality craftsmanship easily cost Matthew two grand.”
“I don’t care if he is the Dalai Lama. I don’t want anything to do with him,” I said, even though the taste of his lips stilled burned on mine.
“The other day you gave your sandwich to a homeless man on the corner. On Saturdays, you volunteer at the rehab center, counseling former drug addicts. Yet you are treating Matthew, a ‘friend,’ as if he has rabies.”
Annoyance zapped through my veins, pushing me to a standing position. Marlene was like a dog with a bone. “I said drop it.”
“We promised not to hide any secrets from each other.”
“Some secrets are worth hiding.”
Her voice encased in ice, she spoke. “Yeah? Well, you don’t have a very good track record of which secrets are worth keeping and which aren’t.”
“Oh my God! When are you going to move on? Luke is your husband now. You got the picture perfect family you always wanted.”
She braced one hand on the couch, ready to give me a piece of her mind when her face paled. Crumpling back into the cushions, Marlene eye’s squeezed shut as a pitiful whimper left her lips. She wrapped her hand around her middle and bent forward.
Concern brushed away our fight. I kneeled at her side. “Marlene! Are you okay?”
“We need to go to the ER,” she breathed. “Something isn’t right.”
“All right. Stay there. I’ll call your mother to come watch Nil.”
“And Luke -- call Luke.”
With shaking fingers, I dialed Marlene’s husband first, praying he would answer.
“This is Matthew. Luke is currently indisposed. May I take a message?” A chorus of laughter could be heard in the background.
“Put Luke on the phone.”
The humor faded from his voice. “Camille? Is everything okay?”
Glancing over at my best friend, sheer panic etched into her features, my heart somersaulted in my chest. Marlene couldn’t lose this baby and have her happily ever after threatened -- not on my watch.
“No, everything isn’t okay. Luke needs to come home. The baby...” My voice cracked. “It’s the baby.”
As she’d stared at with me those evergreen eyes, I couldn’t lie to her I was this picture perfect guy because the cold harsh truth was that I was her worst enemy. Once that fact came to light, the man who I had become now wouldn’t matter. She would see me as the monster who’d broken her spirit. So I returned to the shadows where I belonged. Even there though, her candy-flavored lips and lilac perfume followed me like a mirage. The past three weeks, the ache that resided in my chest had gotten numbed by my music, and if I did say so myself, fueled some of my best performances yet, until reality called and we had to cancel the next three tour stops. Our fans weren’t happy about the change in schedule, but there was little the band could do. Luke’s wife and his unborn child needed him. He had caught an earlier flight than the rest of us, but we were only two hours behind.
Sean tapped his drumsticks on his knee. “I hate flying,” he said for the umpteenth time.
“Have a drink.”
“I can’t. What if the plane crashes and I’m too drunk to swim?”
“That’s not going to happen, man.”
Sean anxiously glanced out the window to the expansive ocean below. “But what if it does? I can’t take the risk.”
“Fine, then read a book.”
“A book? Yea, good idea. I’ll read a book.” He tugged a paperback titled Divorce is Another Word for New Beginnings free and cracked the spine.
“Seriously?”
A deserved flush reddened his cheeks. “Shut up. The woman at the bookstore said it helped resolve her bitter feelings toward her ex.”
“Was she hot?”
“If you like sixty-year-olds but…” Sean grinned slyly, “Her granddaughter was.”
My arm pumped in the air as I hooted enthusiastically. The passengers around us rolled their eyes and grumbled their displeasure.
“Did you ask her out?” I questioned.
“I didn’t get a chance. She only came into the shop for a second to drop off her daughter.”
“Are you positive she’s single? Because I’ve traveled down that road before, and it’s never pretty when the husband finds out you’re screwing his wife.”
Sean laughed. “I’m positive. I kind of eavesdropped on their conversation about how her two jobs are killing her dating life.”
“So what’s the next move?”
“Keep going back to the bookstore until she reappears.”
“Tenacity. I like it!”
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed a swig of soda. Skepticism seeped into his expression. “I’m not sure about the kid thing though. Little humans are so loud and....”
“Messy?” I offered.
“Yea, exactly.”
If I were Sean, a woman with a child would be marked with caution tape. Only because I had enough baggage of my own, but Sean wasn’t me. He grew up in a middle class family with two brothers and parents who were endlessly supportive. The worst experience of his white bread life so far had been the divorce. Sean was resilient though and wouldn’t carry around the pain his ex caused him for long.
“You are thinking too far ahead, dude. You haven’t even talked to her yet.”
“You’re right. Talk first, ask out second. And then who knows? The future is ours for the taking.”
Sean had begun to sound like the material he was reading. “You really need to lay off the self-help books.”
He studied the cheesy pale blue cover in his hands that had a woman flashing her pearly whites. Sean glanced over at the Texas businessman who sat in the row across and offered him the book. After a beat, he accepted the torch so to speak. Throughout the remaining flight, the man had his nose buried in the pages.
Without a distraction from his anxiety, Sean set his focus on me. “I couldn’t help but notice this tour was a little different than normal.”
Although it was obvious what he was hinting at, I faked ignorance. “What do you mean?”
“There weren’t any walks of shame from the bus in the mornings.”
“So?”
“So you aren’t living up to your nickname as the band whore.”
“I told you -- I’m getting old.”
Sean looked at me with skepticism, then as if a light bulb clicked over his head, his mouth formed a perfect circle. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, man. Have you tried anything? There is no shame in popping a few pills. Everybody does it, even men who don’t have a problem.”
“My dick works fine, thanks,” I said dryly.
“Then what’s the issue?”
I’d never had a type. Small boobs, large boobs, boyish waist, curvy waist – it didn’t matter as long as they had a working vagina and an appealing face, they would end up in my bed. During our time together, I would drown in the sensation of pleasure and let my past regrets fade into the background. That wasn’t possible anymore. Not when my regret came in the form of Camille.
Sean waved his hand in front of my face. “Earth to Matthew.”
Yanked from my musings, I returned to the present and answered his question. “Does there have to be an issue? Maybe I’m tired of fucking random chicks.”
“That’s like saying I’m tired of cheesy popcorn.”
“Those aren’t the same at all.”
“Whatever. All I’m getting at is that you don’t give up something you love cold turkey without a reason.” His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. “Is it because of a woman?”
“No,” I grumbled.
“It is! Holy shit. Are there pigs flying?”
My top lip curled. “It isn’t because of a woman, okay? Here.” I shoved my thriller novel into his lap. “It’s a lot better than your pansy self-help bullshit. No
w leave me alone. I need a nap.”
Bunching my sweatshirt under my head, my eyes snapped shut. That didn’t deter Sean from getting the last word in. “You are so gone, bro. It’s like you aren’t even in the same realm anymore.”
As soon as the wheels touched the ground in Seattle, my phone lit up with a text from Luke. He and Marlene were on the fourth floor at Virginia Mason. They hadn’t heard from the doctor yet but they were hoping to in the next hour. My bandmates and I arrived at the hospital and rode the elevator in somber silence. In my head, I said a prayer that Luke and his wife would come out of this with a healthy baby. The metal box spit us out into the fluorescent-lit hallway. After asking the nurse where room 406 was, she firmly laid down the rules and told us visiting hours were over. However, we could twiddle our thumbs in the waiting room. Too worn down to bargain, Milo, Sean, and Ash followed me to a room stuffed with worn couches and sad side tables scattered with magazines. A large flat screen blared CNN in the corner.
I sighed with relief. “It’s empty.”
“Thank God. I could not deal with some fan right now, asking me to sign her boobs,” Milo said.
Ash called him on his lie. “We both know that’s bullshit. You are always game for some boob signage.”
The guys laughed and proceeded to fling themselves on the lumpy couches. My gaze darted to the vacant hallway outside, wondering where Camille was. I figured she would be here. As if summoned, she rounded the corner, crutches gone, with a bag of Doritos and M&M’s. Camille halted, looked around, and dumped the M&M’s into the Doritos. Throwing the empty bag away, she dug her hand inside and munched away at the sweet and salty snack mix. My stomach clenched. I didn’t understand how she could possibly eat that shit. As Camille drew closer, her red and splotchy complexion spoke of the tears she’d shed. Of course, I should have figured. My sisters always reached for either ice cream or junk food when they were upset. Preoccupied with her own thoughts, she didn’t notice my presence until we were toe to toe.
A startled gasp broke from her lips as she stumbled back a few steps. “You scared me, Matthew.”
“You should watch where you’re going then.”
“And you shouldn’t be blocking doorways. We all have our faults, now move.”
Grinning, I ignored her request. “Are you eating processed chemicals for dinner?”
“It’s been a long night.”
My heart reached out for Camille. She’d witnessed her best friend in a mountain of agony and had to make the call no father wanted to get. Nevertheless, sugar and fat wouldn’t lessen her worry.
“Do you want to join me in the cafeteria?” Off her hesitation, I sweetened the deal. “I’ll buy whatever your stomach is craving.”
“A cheeseburger and a salad?”
“Whatever your heart desires.”
“Okay.”
It wasn’t the most enthusiastic answer I had gotten from a woman to go to dinner with me, but anything besides a no would suffice. It felt amazing to step out of the darkness, even if I had to return by the end of the night.
Matthew told me to stay away from him, but here we are, eating a sad hamburger, mine with extra ketchup, his plain. The people around us like zombies, mindlessly shoving food into their mouths while grief hung above them. If this were a first date, it would need a location do-over. It wasn’t though. On dates, you actually converse, which we hadn’t done since Matthew brought the food to the table.
Breaking the awkwardness, I dipped my French fry into a pool of ketchup and made small talk. “How was the tour?”
“Good – really good actually. It felt like home to be back on stage. I will miss that feeling once Five Guys is kaput.”
“Are you going to join another band?”
“I don’t know. Yes – maybe.” Matthew shrugged. “It depends on what band wants me. I’m also thinking about being a solo musician. I have the connections, and since Luke is building his own record label, I could attach myself to that and have more creative freedom.”
“You’re lucky.”
“How so?”
Pushing my half-eaten plate of food away, I tucked my foot under my leg. “You’re doing what you love, which is a lot easier said than done.”
His lopsided smile caused my stomach to somersault. “If you could be anything, what would you be?”
My teeth snagged my bottom lip as I debated whether to indulge my dream nobody else was aware of. For being a pompous asshole sometimes, Matthew had the gift of making me blab, which wasn’t an easy feat. Around ninety-nine point nine percent of people, I wore a thick coat of armor.
“Come on,” Matthew coaxed. “A circus performer? A trash collector? A palm reader named ‘The Divine Hand’ who has three cats and a talking parrot that squawks curse words at the customers?”
The worry that sat heavy on my chest lifted as I chuckled at the image he depicted. “No, no, and no. If I had the option, I would be a screenwriter.”
“What genre?”
“Romantic comedy.”
“Like Nora Ephron?”
My eyebrows shot to my hairline. “You know Nora Ephron?”
Matthew zeroed in on my plate. “Are you done?” When I nodded, he switched his empty plate for mine and went to work on the remaining French fries. “My oldest sister, Cindy, made me watch a marathon of her films during a snowstorm that left us stranded at the house. With nowhere to go, I was forced to sit down and shut up. Her words, not mine.”
“Which one did you like the most?”
“The one about AOL.”
“You’ve Got Mail with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan?” I said, bursting at the seams.
“Yea.” He smiled at the excitement in my voice. “I’m guessing that’s your favorite?”
“Duh! While Sleepless in Seattle is the most renowned, I adore the plot of You’ve Got Mail. A bookstore owner who falls in love with the very man who shutters her business, yet Ephron makes him so damn likable. Not to mention their chemistry is off the walls. If I can be half the writer she was, I’ll die a happy woman.” Matthew looked at me with a mixture of affection and amusement. “What?” I asked.
“I like witnessing this side of you.”
“What side?”
“This intense passion for something you love. I could talk about music for hours and I feel it’s the same way for you about writing.”
“It is, but I don’t normally do so.”
His mouth scrunched to the side. “Why not?”
“Because I feel like people look at me as if I’m crazy when I mention I write screenplays. Especially, when they ask if I have sold anything and I say no.”
“So? Everybody thought it was a pipe dream when I told them I wanted to be lead singer of a rock band. I wouldn’t be here today if I’d listened to them.”
“Since I was child, I have been easily influenced by other’s people’s opinions,” I bluntly stated. “It’s a flaw that doesn’t make it easy for me to veer off the traditional path.”
“Fuck that. You are the lead character in your story. Would you rather live a life filled with adventure or monotony?”
“Adventure, but….”
“But nothing. You need to seize the day and all that other bullshit. When you are lying on your death bed, you aren’t going to remember the time you aced that exam or went to work and filed endless paperwork your boss was on your ass about.” His eyes flickered with infectious zeal. “What you will remember though is the time you went cliff jumping in Thailand, or got caught in the rain and instead of running for the nearest shelter, you tilted your head back and let the water soak through your clothes.” His pupils dilated as they shifted to my mouth. “Or the feeling of complete surrender as you give yourself to another human being…”
My blood boiled with lust while the noises from the cafeteria dulled, leaving Matthew and I. He stared at me, his pupils dilated with hunger. The roaring need to feel his naked flesh against mine consumed my soul. I wanted to find the nearest empty bre
ak room to act out the desires I had entertained since meeting him.
The heat suddenly got extinguished in his gaze as he flinched and jerked forward. “Shit,” he moaned.
Looking under the table, I saw him cupping his groin. “Did you flick yourself in the balls?”
“If I didn’t, there would be a tent in my pants Russia could see.”
A sense of satisfaction I had that kind of effect on him rolled through me. “So you are attracted to me?”
“Of course I’m fucking attracted you. Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You are every guy’s wet dream, but…”
He didn’t need to finish his sentence; I knew where it was headed. “I deserve better. Yea, I got it, although it’s extremely self-righteous for you to assume you are tuned into my wants or needs more than I am.”
“Have you had a one-night stand before?” Matthew questioned.
“Yes,” I lied.
“No, you haven’t, and that’s because you are the kind of woman who wants sex to be special. Not a meaningless act.”
I shook my head vehemently. “That’s not true.”
Raising an eyebrow, Matthew waited for me to elaborate, but I couldn’t. Some details were better kept to myself, like how the lights had to be darkened and the shades drawn before my clothes came off. Even then, there were certain positions I stuck to -- mostly missionary. I didn’t want Matthew to realize what a basketcase I was when it came to sex because my brain wouldn’t shut off the insecurities that plagued me.
Matthew spoke. “Okay, fine. It’s my fault we got on this subject anyways. Forget I said anything.”
Was he kidding me? Him using his talented tongue to make me reach Nirvana was burned into my very vivid imagination. Nevertheless, Matthew’s ego didn’t need to be stroked. It was big enough as it was.
“Fine. Forgotten.”
He let out a shuddered breath. “Thank you. Shall we go back to our original conversation topic?”
“What? That I need to live a life filled with adventure?” I snorted. “That’s like advising a nun to go be a hooker. It won’t happen.”
“A nun can be a hooker if she wants.”
Broken Lullabies Page 7