The Rebellion

by S. L. Scott

  She laughs again. Peeking out of the bathroom, she replies, “I did. Don’t worry about me. I loved every minute being with you.”

  It’s my turn to smile. “Sorry for falling asleep on you.”

  “You’re tired. It’s okay. You obviously needed it. I’m going to shower.” She waggles a condom between her fingers. “Want to join me?”

  I don’t even bother waiting to answer. I’m up and in that bathroom in seconds. Once we’re under the warm water, she’s already soaping her body and I help her out by taking over. Running the bar all over her breasts, I then go lower and soap between her legs. Her breathing picks up. She’s fighting it, making me chuckle, when she asks, “Do you like touring?”

  “I like playing for the fans. I like the high I get.” Cleaning my own body, I watch her watching me.

  Her eyes are questioning but she doesn’t ask what she’s wondering, so I give her my answer, “It’s better than drugs.”

  “Do you still smoke or do any?”

  “I haven’t in a while.” Wetting my hair under the spray, I reply, “I partied. Hard. But when I joined the band, I couldn’t keep doing that shit. Touring is hard on the body, but it’s harder on your mind.”

  Turning us around, I put her under the water. While I stroke her hair under the shower spray, she asks, “What do you mean?”

  I pour shampoo into the palm of my hands and start washing her hair. “I’m doing what I never thought I’d get to do—be in a band, tour the world, make money, but that’s only fulfilling in some ways. Not in others.”

  “Money doesn’t make everything better?” She almost seems disappointed.

  “Money makes things easier, not necessarily better. When I meet people, I don’t know if they want something from me, want to use me in some way, or if they’re genuine. It’s just easier to stick to those we already know.”

  “Is that why you invited me? Because it’s easier?”

  “No.” I rinse her hair. When she opens her eyes again, I cup her face and kiss her. “I invited you because I never stopped thinking about you, never stopped caring about you, never stopped . . .”

  “Never stopped what, Derrick?”

  Somewhere between her telling me she was full from dinner and standing in the after of our lovemaking, I lost all reason and rationale. I need this woman. Not just tonight, but always. “I never stopped loving you.”

  Her hands caress my face and she lifts up on her toes. “You taught me what love was, you’ve shown me I can have it in my life again. I’ve never stopped loving you either.”

  The pull between us sends our bodies against the wall. I spin and let her press to my warmth while I take the cold wall. My voice is low, and direct. “Turn around.”

  When she does, I move her forward and drag my hands down her arms before taking her wrists raising them up and against the wall. I harden just from looking at her—the curve of the sides of her breasts and then inward to her waist. I appreciate the way her hips curve out and then kneel down to confess the sins I want to commit against her. As the shower rains down over us, I fuck her with my mouth, my tongue taking her until her legs are shaking and her orgasm subsides, I stand up behind her. “Hold on.”

  Slipping the condom down over my hardness, I then push between her legs. She adjusts and I slide inside her without production, just need, just instinct to tie myself to her in every way I can. I cover her hands and thrust. “I fuck my hand imagining it’s you.”

  Her head falls back on my shoulder, exposing her neck. Nipping, licking, kissing, I savor her. With her eyes closed, she says, “I touch myself wishing it was your hands on me.”

  “I’ll make all your wishes come true, baby.” I slide my hands down her wet skin, over her shoulders, and around to her breasts. Taking hold, I fuck and thrust, love her body like she wants, like I need. Moving even lower, I slip my hand between her legs and appreciate her clit. She jolts, sensitive to my touch, but presses against my hand.

  I run the end of my nose behind her hair, and whisper, “Come for me. Show me how good this feels.”

  “Fuck me, Derrick. I need you. So much. Harder. Make it so I only feel you. Only you.”

  “Always me.” I speed up and then pinch lightly.

  “Always you.” Her body tremors, squeezing around me.

  “Oh fuck. Yes.” Grabbing her hips, I start thrusting hard, her body taking and giving until I feel the rush and can’t hold back. A few lingering pumps and I drop my forehead on her shoulder. “Jaymes.” I release. Release everything holding me back from realizing what she is to me. Release my fears of opening up and letting her in. I release myself to her, my soul bowing at her feet. “I love you.”

  28

  Derrick

  I promised her tonight.

  No questions.

  Just sharing our bodies.

  For me, sharing so much more.

  Jaymes didn’t tell me she loves me. She doesn’t toss around words with that much importance without care. I know how she feels though. She told me she never stopped loving me. That’s enough. For tonight, that’s enough.

  Sun’s coming up. The Nevada sky lit up. She’s been asleep on me for a few hours. The peace she’s found in my arms makes me wish we could stay like this forever. She’s given me the same peace. Dragging my fingers down her back lightly, I stare out the window.

  The new day will give me the answers I need, but I fear what the repercussions of this new information will bring. Reggie has a hold over her. It doesn’t seem he’s in the picture, but he’s definitely in her life.

  Her phone chirps with a text. I reach over to the nightstand and grab it before it wakes her. There’s a message from Rochelle: Ace is crying. I’ve been holding him for a while, but I think you might want to come down. Suite 12447. Glancing to the time, it’s not quite six a.m.

  I hate disturbing Jaymes. She’s sleeping like she hasn’t slept in years. Maybe she hasn’t. I reply: This is Derrick. I’ll be there in a few minutes.

  Setting her phone back down, I very carefully, extra slowly extricate myself out from under Jaymes. She readjusts but doesn’t wake. I kiss her cheek and then get dressed pulling jeans and a T-shirt on. Slipping on my black Adidas, I don’t bother with socks or tying the laces. I just grab the room key and my phone and go.

  Dex answers the door. “Come on in.” I follow him inside as he continues, “He’s a great kid.”

  “Yeah.”

  But then Dex stops and turns back to me. Crossing his arms, he says, “Something’s going on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He whispers, “We found him hiding in the closet crying, but he was dead silent. Rochelle got up an hour or so ago just to check on them. CJ and Neil were in one bed. Ace in the other when we tucked them in. But he was gone. She freaked out and we searched everywhere. She found him in the closet. He wasn’t afraid of her, but he wouldn’t talk about why he was there either.”

  “Shit.” I see the concern etched in his face. I’m sure it matches mine. He also looks as tired as I feel.

  We start walking again. “They’re in our room.”

  When we enter, Rochelle is sitting in bed and smiles sympathetically. Ace is curled on her lap, resting his head on her chest. Her arms are around him, but his eyes are wide open. He sits up when he sees me. “Derrick.”

  “Hey buddy, I came to get you and take you to your mom.”

  He comes running to me and my arms go out automatically. Throwing himself into my arms, he hugs me tight. I place a kiss on the side of his head before I realize what I’m doing. Damn. Like his mother, all I want to do is protect him from whatever scares him. I catch a glimpse of Rochelle whose smile was once filled with sympathy is now full of pride. Standing all the way up, I bring Ace with me. He wraps around me like a little monkey and I carry him to the door. Before I leave, I tell Ro and Dex, “Thanks for last night. We’ll touch base with you guys later.”

  Ace gives Rochelle a side hug and fist-bumps Dex before we lea
ve. They’re only three floors down from us, so I manage to avoid being seen. Back in the suite, I ask him, “You hungry or tired?”

  “I’m sleepy,” he responds with a giveaway by rubbing his eyes.

  “Okay.” I glance toward the other room and then to the one I’m sharing with Jaymes. “Hey, go take a piss and meet me right back here.”

  “You said a bad word. Mommy’s gonna be mad.”

  “Then let’s not tell her, kid.” I nod my head toward the bathroom. “Now go and don’t forget to wash your hands.” I sound like my mother.

  As soon as he runs along, I go into the room and kick off my shoes. I should have put my boxers back on earlier, so I strip my pants off and slip those on in a hurry. Rushing to meet him, we both come out at the same time. Kneeling down, I say, “So, I’m going to let you decide where you want to sleep. In that room with the two beds or in that room with the one big bed and your mommy.”

  He rubs his chin while looking between the two options. I have to admit, this kid is seriously fucking cute. He points to the room with two beds and I smile. “That one.”

  “All right. Let’s go tuck you in then. I have a show tonight and need to get some sleep.”

  “What’s a show?” he asks while we’re walking in the bedroom.

  “It’s a concert. A show.” He doesn’t look satisfied with that answer. “I play in a band. We play music live for people to enjoy.”

  “Ohhhh. What do you play?”

  “I play guitar and I sing.”

  “Like Mommy, but she doesn’t play anymore. I play guitar. I got one for Christmas once.”

  Now this is something I can work with, we can bond over. “Really?”

  “Yeah, it’s blue and white. One of the strings is broken, but Mommy fixed it with duck tape.”

  “Duct. T,” I sound out.

  “Yeah, that stuff.” He climbs into bed and sits there expectantly.

  So I pull the covers up and say, “Lie down. You can’t sleep sitting up.”

  “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

  “Yeah. I’m tired too.” I can’t wait to climb back in bed with Jaymes and hold her again. This weekend is flying by too fast.

  “You’re sleeping here?”

  “No, in there.”

  “My mom’s in there.”

  “Right.”

  “But I thought . . .” Tears the size of puddles pool in his brown eyes and his bottom lip pops out.

  Oh shit. “You thought I was staying in here?”

  He nods, pulling the covers up to his nose. Looking down at him like that I see so much of his mother in him. Not Reggie, thank fuck. Well, shit. There go my plans. “Do you want me to stay in here?” He nods again. This is news. I’m not sure what to do, but I know I don’t want him to cry. “Where do you want me to sleep?”

  With a huge smile, he pats the bed that he’s in. “Will you stay here, Derrick? Please?”

  As much as I want to wake up next to Jaymes, this kid needs me more. “Sure.” I climb in on the other side and he immediately rolls to his side, so I match his position. “Have you ever played a real guitar, not a toy?”

  He nods excitedly. I think he’s happy to please me. I rub my hand over his head and then pull the covers up a little higher making sure he’s comfy. “Snug as a bug.”

  “My mommy says that too.”

  “You’ve got a great mommy.”

  “She likes you. She told me.”

  “I like her, too.”

  “I used to play Mommy’s guitar. She kept it in the living room.” As much as I’d like to say his thoughts are scattered like a kid’s, I know a few adults who act the same.

  It’s a nice segue back to a topic I think Jaymes might be happier that we’re discussing. My curiosity gets the best of me, and I ask, “Where does she keep it now?”

  “The mean man took it.”

  I wasn’t prepared for that. My heart stops beating and I find I stop breathing for a second. Trying to control my facial reaction, I fist the blanket. “What mean man?”

  His demeanor is so commonplace that I start questioning what he’s lived through, what he and Jaymes have had to survive. “The one that hurts Mommy.”

  Narrowing my eyes at him, I lean up. “Who’s hurting your mommy?”

  “She calls him Reggie. I hear her, but I hide in the closet and don’t make a sound. Just like she told me.”

  Holy fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  FUCK.

  Flopping back down, I stare up at the ceiling. I cover my face with my hands not wanting Ace to see my anger, his words ringing in my ears, “The one that hurts Mommy.”

  “Are you mad at me for not protecting Mommy?” Oh, God. No. This incredible little man.

  My hands are down and I reach over and rub his shoulder. “No, buddy. I know you take care of her the best you can. I just . . . I don’t know why someone wants to hurt her.”

  “She says for money. And drugs. I heard him say he got money for her guitar for drugs. That made me sad, so she told Santa to bring me a new one. I meant for her. She thought I wanted one for me.”

  Damn. This kid. He’s going to be the death of me. “You did that for her?”

  “She used to sing and play for me. That made her happy. It made me happy too. She has to work a lot now and has school. She doesn’t smile as much.”

  I’m going to fucking kill Reggie. I contain my rage for Ace. He deserves to be happy. So does Jaymes. What kind of shit are they caught in?

  “When I play the blue guitar it doesn’t sound like the other one, but even with the duck . . . duct tape, she smiles.”

  “I bet she does.”

  There is so much to process through the innocence of this kid who struggles to make his mom smile. He reminds me so much of myself. I remember doing the same for my mom, through the abuse, the alcohol and fights with my father. The day he left was one of the best days of my life. When I turn back to Ace, his eyes are closed and his breathing is already evening.

  Wish I could fall asleep like that. His little arm is outstretched toward me and his hand is palm up. I roll back to my side to face him and cover his hand with mine.

  * * *

  The room is pitch black. Confused, I look at the clock. 1:25. I’m not even sure if that’s a.m. or p.m. Much less what city I’m in.

  I fucking love blackout curtains. Jaymes. Ace.

  I sit up and feel next to me for Ace. The bed is empty so I throw the covers off and make a break for the door. Swinging it open, Jaymes and Ace look up from a game of checkers they’re playing on the coffee table. She smiles. “Hello, sunshine.”

  “Hi,” I reply, not fully with it yet. My body feels sluggish and I don’t know if it’s from the sexual activities all night or the tour catching up with me.

  Ace asks, “Wanna play winner?”

  “Sure. Just give me a few minutes, okay?”

  He doesn’t say anything, his attention back on the game. But Jaymes is staring at me, trying to hold a silent conversation.

  Is something wrong?

  Are you all right?

  You’re worrying me.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  Please still love me.

  I mouth, “I love you.”

  She smiles, though it’s more relief flickering across her face than happiness. Happy. Smiles. Ace.

  Fuck.

  “I’m going to get dressed.” I have to talk to her about everything he said to me early this morning. How do I even broach that topic? When I enter the other bedroom, I rub the bridge of my nose. I’m fucking starving and can’t have that heavy of a conversation on an empty stomach. I need strength. The kind of strength she’s shown she had to have to endure the life she’s been living. The life where her daily worry is if she’s protecting her son from “the mean man.” I don’t know much about what’s going on with them when it comes to Reggie, but I do know that Reggie Rogers is a dead man. No one hurts my family and gets
away with it. No. One.

  29

  Jaymes

  Derrick moves from one bedroom back to the one we were sharing last night. With a mighty fine itch the way he’s rubbing the back of his neck. Something’s wrong. Something’s off. I woke up to an empty bed and Ace playing with his cars along the living room windowsill. He told me Derrick got him from downstairs and then they had to go to bed to rest for the show.

  I also got a long, very excited explanation about what a “show” is and a lot about how Derrick plays guitar like we do. That part made me smile, but the rest of the story’s pieces haven’t been put together yet. As much as I’d like to follow him into the room and barrage him with questions, he just woke up, so I’ll give him some time.

  “Jaymes?”

  I finish my move, my red checker jumping over one of Ace’s pieces, and look up. Derrick’s near the door. I get the signal to come to him, one nod into the bedroom, and get up. Maybe he’s ready for those questions after all. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to play. Can you watch a little TV until then?”

  “Yeah.” Ace gets up and climbs onto the couch. I turn the volume up so he can hear the show we had playing in the background.

  When I walk into the bedroom, Derrick is holding the door. He closes it enough to leave a crack open. It’s thoughtful of him to do that so we can hear if Ace needs me. He turns and comes to me where I’ve stopped. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Then I’m hugged awkwardly, like he’s forgotten how to do it. “Umm . . . Is something wrong?”

  “Can we talk?”

  “Wow, okay. Of course.” I walk to the chair by the window and sit, and wait.

  Sitting on the corner of the bed, he drops his head in hands and scrubs his face. When his eyes meet mine again, he says, “Have you talked to Rochelle?”

  “I texted a quick thank you, but I wanted to tell her in person today. Why? What’s going on? You’re starting to scare me.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “I don’t mean—”

  “I know you don’t mean I actually scare you, but if Ace hears you he won’t know the difference.”