Beastly Lights

by Theresa Jane

  “Who is she?” he demanded, and I felt nervous under his scrutinizing glare.

  “She’s...a friend of Liam’s,” Lucinda explained, and his eyes narrowed. I felt the overwhelming need to explain myself to the boy as irrational nerves started to spread through my body.

  “I don’t like him either,” I announced, my hands raised defensively. He watched me for a beat longer before he nodded his head, and I felt a sigh of relief rush out of me.

  “Freya, would you mind watching him while I deal...with this,” Lucinda said, as more of a statement than a question, gesturing to where Liam was, a tired look consuming her striking features. “Jarred had to go into school early this morning and I was meant to handle the kids. I was dropping Charlie off when I got my brother’s call.”

  “Sure,” I answered, trying to process everything she had just told me. Which man had been her brother? I was still trying to come to terms with Lucinda having kids, she didn’t strike me as the motherly type.

  “Davis, will you wait with Freya for me?” He nodded. Lucinda gave him a hug and a quick kiss on the forehead before darting down the hallway, leaving me alone with the little boy.

  As his eyes turned to me, I realized something. I knew nothing about kids, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be a mother. It had never been something I thought about until this very moment as the young boy watched me suffer a mild panic attack. I felt like I had to do something with him, I just didn’t know what. Under pressure, I blurted out the first thing I could think of.

  “I can make it rain warm milk?”

  * * *

  “Can I lick the spoon?” Davis said excitedly, bouncing where he sat on the bench top as I put the tray of cookies in the oven. We didn’t try the coffee machine because Davis didn’t like the way it was looking at him, and I agreed. All the red buttons were intimidating.

  “Would your mom let you lick the spoon?” I asked cautiously.

  “No,” he sighed dramatically, letting his little head hang low before he returned to eyeing the bowl longingly.

  “Then you better eat fast,” I smirked, his eyes lighting up behind his frames, and he almost dove for the bowl.

  “Whoa there little man,” I chuckled.

  “I see my favorite nephew is still feeding his sugar addiction,” I heard someone say from the hallway, and I looked up in surprise.

  “Uncle Ant,” Davis said excitedly, scurrying across the bench and launching himself into the tall, dark-haired man’s arms.

  “Hey there big guy,” Ant laughed, holding his young nephew on his hip after barely catching his airborne body. “Were you making cookies, or are you the cookies?”

  “Cooking isn’t cooking unless you get dirty,” he recited before he turned to me. “Right, Freya?”

  “That’s right, Davis,” I smiled, wiping down the bench where our mini flour war had taken place.

  “Your mother isn’t going to be very happy,” Ant frowned, dusting off the flour on Davis’s nose.

  “I’m not going to be happy about what?” Lucinda asked, stepping out from behind Ant. Looking at the two side by side, you couldn’t deny that they were brother and sister, they both had the same striking bone structure that just made you want to look at them all day.

  “You seem to have a budding chef on your hands,” Ant smiled, setting Davis down on the floor as he quickly grabbed for his mother’s hand.

  “We made cookies, Mommy,” he told her gleefully. “Can we stay a little bit longer?”

  “Sorry Davis, but we really need to get you to school,” she consoled, bending down and brushing the flour from his hair, which had turned a pale gray.

  “Do I smell cookies?”

  “Ryan,” Ant hissed.

  “Uncle Rynosauce,” Davis yelled exuberantly, pulling free from his mother’s hold and running over to the shiny man. I looked at the man curiously as I realized his eyes matched his hair, both a vibrant violet color. “Do the magic, do the magic uncle Ryno,” Davis chanted as he bounced excitedly in front of his other uncle. However, this time I couldn’t see the family resemblance. I wasn’t sure Ryan was related to anyone on this planet, let alone the people standing in Liam’s kitchen.

  “So, you’re the new maid?” I drew my eyes away from Ryan as he pulled a coin out from behind the young boy’s ear. Davis could barely contain his excitement and demanded more as I focused on his skeptical uncle. I fought the urge to take a step back from him even though there was a bench between us.

  “I know, I’m not very good,” I shrugged, motioning to where the paint still stained the floor. I had no intention of removing the footprints anytime soon.

  “No, you’re not,” he agreed.

  “Where has he been?” I asked, curious to know how he had disappeared for such a long stretch of time. Even the media hadn’t been able to find him.

  “Probably jumping from one seedy place to another. He does this every time there’s a tour coming up,” Ant answered coldly, glaring out at the window as the sun rose higher in the sky.

  “Why?” I prodded, testing how far I could push him.

  “There’s a lot of pressure, people pushing him to do things he doesn’t want to do, millions of fans desperate to have a piece of him,” he shrugged, looking back over at his nephew as Ryan made Davis’s glasses disappear. Which was met with excited applause from the little boy.

  “Davis sweetie, we need to go now.”

  “No,” Davis groaned as Ryan set his glasses back on his little nose. “Just a few more minutes, please.”

  “No, you have to get to school and I have to do some work,” Lucinda said firmly, stretching out her hand to her reluctant son.

  “Can I stay with Freya?” he asked hopefully.

  “No, Freya has work to do too.”

  “Please, Freya,” he begged, looking over at me for support, but I wasn’t about to go up against his mother. She didn’t look like someone to mess with on a good day. He had the advantage of being her son, I didn’t, and I wasn’t going to risk going head to head with her.

  “No Davis, now we need to go,” Lucinda said firmly, and the little boy heaved a long sigh before begrudgingly resting his hand in his mother’s.

  “Daddy would have let me stay,” he grumbled.

  “No, Daddy wouldn’t,” and I had no doubt that Davis’s father would do anything the tall, breathtaking woman asked if he knew what was good for him. “Now say goodbye to your uncles.”

  “Bye Uncle Ryan and Uncle Ant,’ he grumbled petulantly, offering them a sad wave.

  “We have to go, Ant. Can you explain this to her?” Ant nodded as the two disappeared down the corridor, and I realized belatedly that I was the ‘her’ they were talking about. I frowned as the mother and son disappeared down the hallway before the door shut behind them.

  “Explain what to me?” I asked when there was just the three of us.

  “Liam’s last stunt has severely damaged his image. Usually when he does stuff like this, it sends ticket sales sky-high, but this time it looks like his fans have gotten tired of his antics,” Ant explained and I looked at him in confusion.

  “So what’s it got to do with me?”

  “You get to play babysitter,” Ryan smirked, standing beside Ant and wrapping his arm around his waist, and I suddenly realized how he could be Davis’s uncle even though they looked nothing alike.

  “What do you mean babysitter?” I asked dubiously.

  “You get to make sure he stays out of trouble and for the most part stays inside the apartment,” Ryan smirked.

  “What?”

  “Lucinda has instructed our little rock star that he needs to remain inside the apartment until his tour starts in under a month. No girls, no parties, which in Liam’s world translates to no fun,” Ryan finished with a mocking smirk stretching across his lips.

  “How am I meant to do that? Liam is an adult, I am not going to sit around all day and make sure he doesn’t dri
nk himself into a stupor,” I replied adamantly.

  “The rest of us have jobs, and Liam’s other supposed friends are the ones who get him into trouble. It has to be you,” Ant answered, and I notice a slight edge to his voice.

  “I have a life too,” I shot back at Ant, and he raised his eyebrows skeptically.

  “You’re Liam’s maid, you’re going to be here anyway,” Ant replied patronizingly.

  “That doesn’t mean I can keep him from leaving the apartment. If you haven’t noticed, Liam doesn’t live by anyone else’s rules.”

  “This is important, a lot of people’s jobs are riding on the success of this tour and if Liam isn’t ready, then the crowds won’t come,” Ant said. “Do it or don’t, I don’t care anymore, I’m tired of his antics.”

  “Ant?” Ryan said worriedly as Ant pushed away and started heading for the door.

  “I have to get to work, Ryan,” I heard Ant mutter, and then he disappeared down the corridor.

  “Please, Freya,” Ryan said, turning back to me. “This friendship means a lot to Anthony, they’ve known each other for a long time, but he can only take so much of Liam’s self-destructive behavior.”

  “What can I do?” I asked, perplexed.

  “When we picked him up, he was awake and he was muttering your name. He wanted to know if you were all right. He got frantic for a moment when we didn’t know who you were or whether you were safe. We had to call Lucy, hoping she knew who the person he was searching for was.”

  “I don’t understand,” I frowned.

  “Generally, when he goes on these benders, we find him a few days later, muttering Jenna’s name, half passed out in his own filth,” Ryan explained, scrunching up his nose.

  “Who’s Jenna?” I asked, desperate to know more.

  “You’ll have to ask Liam, I’ve already said too much,” he answered. “I don’t care either way whether pretty boy in there is drunk or sober, or how quickly his life is spiraling out of control, but Ant does and I do care about him.”

  “Wait,” I said, but he turned and followed Ant out of the apartment. Then my eyes quickly shifted to the hallway where I knew Liam was but at that moment, the alarm on the oven went off and I went to get the cookies instead. I wasn’t sure I was ready to see him yet.

  Chapter 11: Fractured Dreams

  I’d had seven cookies. Well, eight, but the first one was just to test they weren't awful. I had been glaring down the hallway for over an hour now. I had stood up and sat down, walked around the kitchen counter and even contemplated moving all the furniture again.

  I only stopped my procrastinating when I heard him shout from down the hall. It caused my heart to stop and my stomach to drop. He sounded like he was in pain. I hesitated for a moment, shuffling my feet as I decided what to do, and then I heard him shout again. Without making a conscious decision, I found myself walking down the hallway to his room.

  Tentatively, I pushed the door open and found Liam tangled in his sheets, his bare chest glistening with a layer of sweat. His face was contorted into a look of distress and his hands were clenched tightly at his sides. He groaned out again, and it forced me across the threshold until I found myself beside his bed. I looked down at him as my heart beat wildly in the confines of my chest. What was I doing here?

  "Liam," I said softly, my hands clenched tightly in front of me. He muttered something incoherent and twisted again before suddenly he shot up. His eyes were wide and his chest was heaving as he tried to suck in all the air he could.

  "Liam, are…are you all right?" I asked worriedly, and he turned to me with wild eyes, causing me to step back in alarm.

  "Freya?" he breathed, running his hand over his bloodshot eyes.

  "What happened?"

  "Giraffes," he muttered, and I looked at him in concern. I seriously worried about how many brain cells he may have lost over the past few days. "Always giraffes."

  "What?"

  "Jenna was feeding the giraffes at the zoo," he mumbled. "She loved to visit the zoo."

  "Okay," I answered uncertainly, shifting on my feet. "Who’s Jenna? Why are there giraffes?"

  "Why are their tongues so long and purple?" he grumbled, resting his head back in the pillows.

  "Liam, who is Jenna?" I prodded, taking advantage of his delusional state.

  "Jenna loved the giraffes."

  "Did you like the giraffes?"

  "No," he scoffed. "Damn things were always so creepy."

  Slowly, he pushed up from the bed, rubbing at his eyes again. When he looked up, they seemed to settle on me for the first time and he looked surprised to find me there.

  "Freya, what are you doing here?" e asked coldly, and I felt myself bristle at his tone.

  "I heard you cry out and what is that?" I gasped, pointing at a burn mark on his stomach. It was small, but it looked angry and before I could stop myself, I reached out and ran my fingers across it. I felt his stomach contract, shrinking away from my touch, and I heard the hiss as he released a breath through his teeth, but I didn’t move. It was as if someone had burned him with the butt of a cigarette.

  "What happened?" I asked gently, looking up into his faded golden eyes. He was watching me closely as I leaned over him. I knew it was inappropriate, but I couldn’t bring myself to move.

  "Nothing," he finally murmured after what felt like an eternity. Instantly, whatever moment we had been sharing shattered. I pulled my hand back instinctively and flushed with embarrassment. I wanted to ask him so many things, like who was Jenna? Why did he do it? Where did he go? But instead, all I could think about were the things I had read about him. The tour, his apparent girlfriend, and why I had never seen her.

  "You have a girlfriend," I blurted out, and all I wanted to do was reach into the space between us and take the words back. Judging from Liam's quiet laughter, I knew it was too late to do that.

  "Freya, you’ve been here for almost a week and not once have you seen me with the same girl twice. What makes you think I have a girlfriend?"

  "The magazine had a photo of the two of you, America’s Sweetheart?" I shrugged as I drew patterns on his carpet with my toes, keeping my eyes trained on the black beneath my feet.

  "It's publicity, Freya. Her publicist made a deal with Luce. I didn’t have a say," he frowned as he brought his knees up and rested his elbows on them, his head hanging heavily between.

  "What do you get out of it?"

  "I don’t know," he sighed, shrugging his shoulders. He looked as if a heavy weight was pressing down on him and suddenly, I remembered what Ant had told me.

  "Why don’t you say no?" I questioned.

  "Have you met Lucinda?" He laughed bitterly.

  "And her son."

  "Davis," he smirked, laughing at his own private joke.

  "He doesn’t like you very much."

  "I broke his guitar. Apparently, he has a memory like an elephant."

  "He liked me just fine," I shrugged. "We bonded over how much we don’t like you."

  "Of course you did," he chuckled darkly. Then a heavy silence fell between us as I waited for him to speak. After a long time, I grew tired of waiting, and I asked the question that had been playing on my mind since I had met Ant.

  "Why did you tell me you didn’t have any friends?"

  "Because it’s the truth," he answered tiredly.

  "I met Ant," I announced, "and Ryan. Ant seemed to care for you like a friend would."

  "I don’t need friends, Freya," he replied with a raised voice, looking up at me fiercely with his tired, bloodshot eyes. I stared back at him, standing my ground as he glared at me. Then, he finally sighed before letting his head drop again and muttering something I couldn’t hear.

  "Liam?" I asked uncertainly.

  "They always leave, Freya," he said bitterly, and for a moment when he looked at me I saw a crack in his walls, but only for a moment, and then it was gone. His breathing was heavy and he s
eemed to immediately regret what he said as he ran his hands roughly through the tangled waves of his golden hair.

  "Liam, where have you been?" I asked, trying to settle the rapid beating of my heart.

  "I don’t remember," he muttered, rubbing at his temples. He pushed up from his bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I said nothing at all and just watched his retreating back until the door closed.

  I stood there for a moment, enveloped in the silence, glaring at where he had been before I left his room. My mind seemed to swell with more questions than I had answers.

  * * *

  "Feel better?" I asked. Liam winced at the sunlight streaming in through the giant windows of his apartment as he entered the kitchen.

  "No," he grumbled, slumping to the stool across from me as I set a greasy burrito on the plate in front of him.

  "What’s that?" he mumbled, resting his head in his hands.

  "Breakfast, for those who don’t know when to say enough is enough," I replied, pursing my lips at his disheveled appearance. He grunted in reply before looking down at the steaming mass on his plate.

  Burritos were my specialty, after mystery omelets. I’d made many in my life to help cure a hangover, and they were never my own.

  "Coffee?" He asked, swallowing a giant mouthful of burrito.

  "Umm…" I stuttered, looking over at the coffee machine. I could have sworn one of its red eyes winked at me. "We aren’t really on speaking terms yet."

  "Of course," he chuckled, pushing his empty plate away and making his way around the counter to make himself a coffee. I looked down at his plate in surprise, wondering how he had eaten it so quickly. Then, I looked over at Liam as he made his coffee and frowned.

  "Why did you do it, Liam?" I asked cautiously, staring intently at his back as his shoulders tensed. He remained silent, and I let out a frustrated sigh before throwing his plate in the sink and marching over to the couch, staring down at the people as they passed below.

  Moments later, I felt Liam sit beside me with a coffee extended for me. I took it, shooting him an angry glare, but he wasn’t paying attention.