Just Breathe (The Blue Series Book 1)

by Chelle C. Craze

  “It’s that time again,” Dar says.

  “Tool Time?” I say awkwardly. I think I’m the only one that doesn’t know the exact time out of the three of us. Dar and Lucas don’t laugh; no, they howl in unison, but I don’t know why. They both look at me with pity in their eyes.

  “What time is it? I fail to see what you two think is so hilarious. Seriously, tell me,” I insist. Just as the words leave my mouth, I notice Lacey walking toward us. She looks pissed, and I do the only smart thing. I start desperately searching through my purse for anything.

  “What in the hell are you looking for?” Lucas asks, bending to look into my bag.

  My head pops up frantically. “My mace!” I shout, causing Lucas to laugh. I guess I’m the only one who notices Lacey’s fire-blazing eyes burning holes into me.

  “Cass, I was joking about the mace ordeal. Stop!” Dar says, enunciating every word and grabbing my wrists, putting an end to my search. She cautiously releases her hold only seconds before Lacey approaches the table. For safe measure, I leave my purse unzipped.

  “Hey, Lucas, good to see ya again. Dar, Ca-ssan-dra,” Lacey addresses each of us as she places our shots onto the table, but she says my name with absolutely no feeling. I giggle inside, knowing she hates me. The feeling is mutual. The extra weight on my shoulders from Lucas’ arm is a bit uncomfortable, but I find some sick pleasure knowing it bothers her. Respectable women around the world stand and cheer in triumph as I imagine myself break dancing. Lost in my thoughts, I don’t even notice when Lacey leaves, but now she returns with beer chasers for all of us. I bet she could have won the lead role in Mommy Dearest with the murderous look she was giving me. She quietly sets the glasses onto the table and heads back to the bar.

  I exhale and chant with Dar, “Here’s to the men we…um. Dar?” I abruptly sputter and set the shot glass down onto the table.

  She stares at me and sets her shot glass down as well. “What?” Her voice raises two octaves. She freezes.

  “Do you remember you drove us, and um, well? I don’t want to sound like a mother hen, but I do want to live through the night.” I look like a stammering idiot, feeling my face begin to blush.

  “Don’t sweat the small stuff. I’ll pay for you all to take a cab home, just as I did last night.” Lucas winks at me, and Dar finishes the cheers for the first time ever without me. I’m too stunned to complain about the chant. I can’t believe he paid for the cab. He probably did it to feel better about stealing my phone.

  We all tip our shot glasses to one another’s in a silent agreement to killing our neurons. Sip beer… one… sip beer…two… sip beer…three… sip beer. Wow, I never realized how much like a Sesame Street character I sound. The Count would be proud of me. Caught in the moment, I imitate The Count after I finish. “Three shots. Ah, ah, ah.”

  Lucas contorts in a baffled facial expression; he almost looks like he’s in pain. “Now, I have heard it all. Did you really just pull The Count out of left field?” He licks his lips. “And, a pretty damn good impression of him at that.”

  “Indeed,” the only word I can muster.

  “The who? The Count? Like Count Chocula?” Dar asks. Lucas and I howl in amusement.

  “So, you paid for our cab last night?” I ask, wiping the liquor off the corner of my mouth.

  “I did, as I plan to do the same tonight. That is, after you do one thing for me.” Lucas winks and squeezes my shoulders. I can think of a few things I would do for him. I’ve always had a weakness for someone who could sing, not to mention someone who looks like he does.

  “What would that be exactly?” Impatiently, I hold my breath, waiting to hear his answer.

  “Well, as much as I’m enjoying watching your face turn every shade of red and seeing your eyes go back and forth from hate and pleasure… I did have an ulterior motive for inviting you to come out tonight, other than to see you again. Dartanya told me you play?” He motions his head toward the stage.

  “Mmm…hmm.” Dar did have a hand in this. I’ll remember that the next time she wants me to do the dishes. She loves to cook, but I usually clean up after her. I shoot her a hateful glare, but she bats her eyelashes innocently.

  “Well, I figured you could play a song for me, and then I’ll give you back your phone.” Lucas takes my hand and ever so slightly brushes his lips against it, sending chills through my entire body.

  I forgot about my effing phone; how is that possible? It was the reason I came here tonight. I guess my plan I began our evening with is now gone. I unsteadily weave forward and then backward, affected by the alcohol or Lucas, or both.

  “I would actually love to,” I say, my head a little woozy. The only reason I can play without going into a full-blown panic attack is by using the coping mechanism my mother taught me. The fact my mom is gone still eats away at me. The only consolation I have is that I was able to meet Dar because of it.

  As if I said her name aloud, Dar stands and pulls me to my feet. She slaps me across the ass. “Go get ‘em, tiger!” I rub the spot she hit, and I turn away from them.

  I walk up to the stage more slowly than necessary, swaying my hips with each step. Lucas zooms past me, hops up on stage, and whispers something into the emcee’s ear that makes my palms start to sweat.

  The emcee nods, acknowledging whatever Lucas had said and then begins to speak, “Guys and dolls, looks like we’re going to have a little cricket come up and chirp tonight.” For a brief moment, he bends over, holding his stomach as he laughs, but then he composes himself. “This beautiful woman with the red hair approaching the stage is Cassandra and is performing...” He pauses, covers the microphone with his hand and whispers to me, “What is it exactly that you’re doing, honey?” Normally, playing guitar makes me feel better. Why is this time different? I don’t know why, but I’m nervous. My stomach churns, and my palms sweat.

  “‘Snuff’ by Slipknot,” I whisper.

  The emcee uncovers the mic and announces the title. A small crowd slowly forms in front of the stage. Their curiosity must win and draws them out of their seats. Dar and Lucas cat call at me but remain seated in our booth. I take the guitar from its stand and begin to tweak it for my specifications. After sitting down on the stool, I adjust the microphone to my height. As the silver pole descends into itself, I realize Lucas must be around six feet tall, judging by how high he left the stand. “Hello, my name is Johnny Cash.” I give my best Johnny Cash impression. That makes a few people stifle a giggle. “Wow, tough crowd.” I scratch my temple. “I know what song I said I would play, and I will. After this...”

  I strum the first chord heavily and then back off a bit. My voice is faint when I begin to play “Rusty Cage” in Johnny Cash’s rendition, but by the second verse, I’ve found my confidence, and my tone rises. Once I begin to sing, the shock is apparent on the crowds’ faces. That is, except Dar. She’s known me long enough to expect the unexpected. My voice is in the middle soprano range, similar to Joan Jett. The shock written all over Lucas’ face makes this moment perfect and is almost worth him stealing my phone. At the end of the song, I let the music run its course in my veins. Letting all my pain emit through every last sound the guitar strings offer, I close my eyes and strum the last few bars of the song forcefully. I silently sit with my eyes closed for a moment, pulling back all the pain I released. When I open my eyes, the crowd has gotten bigger and is practically standing on top of one another, their faces unreadable. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing. Just as I prepare to start the song I originally promised them, they explode into a mixture of squeals and whistles. The sound level they reach actually surprises me; they are even louder than they were after Lucas performed.

  “Well, not so tough after all. Thank you all. For those of you who have no idea what song that was, you should be ashamed of yourselves.” I suppress a laugh, and my voice sounds like I’m scolding a child. I allow myself a quick glance at Dar, but I avoid Lucas. I finally feel calm, and I’m not going to ch
ance it by looking at him. “Not really, that was my version of ‘Rusty Cage’ by Johnny Cash.”

  A smile creeps across my face, and I start to play “Snuff”. I can sing this song with ease. It’s one of my all-time favorites, and I have every note memorized. Playing comes as my own personal anti-depressant. When things would go wrong as a child, I would lock myself in my room for hours and play. Many times, I played through the tears, letting my torment flow away with the resonance of the sounds.

  Just as I finish the song, my right eye betrays me. A trickle of wet slides down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away, hoping no one noticed. I hate to cry in front of people. It shows weakness, something I don’t want people to think of me as. Even if Mom wasn’t the best in the world and is nonexistent at the moment, she’s still my mother. I grasp the neck of the guitar and remove the strap. After shaking a few hands and meeting the crowd, I reach the booth where I’d left Dar and Lucas, but Dar is gone. “Where is she?” I swear that girl could get into trouble with a saint.

  “Relax, Cricket. She went out to the car to get her cell phone. I don’t know what it is about you two always losing your phones. Before you even say it, I really didn’t steal her phone. I promise,” he says with so much sincerity I believe him. “You were amazing. Absolutely fucking incredible! I’m glad I didn’t have to follow you. Never mind, I’d follow you anytime. You have a nice ass.” He stretches out his neck, pretending to check out my ass.

  By the way I’m standing, he can’t see my backside, but blood pools in my cheeks, thinking of him checking out anything of mine. “You know, most women would prefer to be asked out on a date. Most would prefer you not to be so overbearing. That being said, I held up my end of the deal. Now, give me my phone,” I nervously rant, and I hold my hand directly in front of Lucas’ face and tap my foot.

  He removes my phone from his pocket and holds it out to me. I reach for it, and he yanks me toward him. I’m so close I can feel his breath on my mouth. “You know, you’re probably right.” He teases with his breath, torturing my mouth. “Most women would prefer those things. You, however, are not most women. You’re the most beautiful, stubborn, and alluring woman I’ve ever met.” With each word he speaks, he draws closer to my lips. My heart pounds, trying to escape from my chest, begging him to end the torture and close the distance between us, but he doesn’t. Unable to move, I get lost in his eyes like I’m under a spell; I refuse to be the one who gives in.

  He’s the first to break eye contact. He cocks his head and makes a slight growl from his throat. He looks…amused? I feel something heavy land on my back, causing me to collide with Lucas and our lips to brush. “What the hell? Did you catch the number of that train?”

  I turn around to find a drunken, stumbling Dar, the source of our collision. She shouldn’t drink after taking her medicine, but she won’t listen to me. When I try to move away from Lucas, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me onto his lap.

  She sits right beside us, leaving me no option but to stay where I am. Otherwise, I’d be pushing her onto the floor, which I consider doing, but I won’t intentionally hurt her.

  “Uh, Houston, we have a…” Dar hiccups. “Ah, I hate drunk-ups. We have a problem. See, I left my keys in the car and a certain paranoid redhead I know, not mentioning any names...Cass-and-ra, locked my car. Do you have your keys?”

  “My keys? No, you drove, so I didn’t bring them. For fuck’s sake! We can’t get into our apartment, and you know Mrs. Weatherbee isn’t going to hear us this late.” I look down at my phone. “It’s 1 AM. What in the hell should we do? Why would you ever leave your keys in the car?” I rant, trying to figure out what we’re going to do. We obviously can’t stay at the bar all night long.

  “Well, Cass, you’re the one who locked the damn thing,” she says defensively and then hiccups again. “We wouldn’t be in this pre-dish-a-ment if you hadn’t.” She attempts to poke me in the forehead, failing miserably and almost jabbing me in the eye.

  Lucas nudges me, and I hear him curse under his breath. “Listen, Cassandra. I’m not saying this as some elaborate scheme to get you into my bed, not tonight anyway, but you all need a place to stay, and I have an extra room you can share.” He bites his lower lip. “That is, unless you want to share with me. Then, by all means, I’ll welcome you with open arms, love.”

  I look at him in disbelief. Get into his bed? I roll my eyes. He holds up his hand when I open my mouth to speak.

  “It was a joke, only a joke.” He chews on the corner of his mouth, trying not to smile. “Don’t sweat the small stuff, remember? You’re not staying here.” He waves his hand in the air. “Come on. You get Dar up, and I’ll call a cab. Grab your phone first, though, because you wouldn’t want to lose it again.” Lucas eases me off his lap and excuses himself from the booth.

  What does he mean by ‘get Dar up’? Oh, how in the…? She passed out that quickly? I wonder how much they drank while I was on stage. I wake up Dar enough to make out random moans and groans. Lucas helps me get her out of the bar and into the cab. I don’t believe it’s a good idea to stay with Lucas. I’m already thinking about him too much as it is, but at the moment, I can’t think of any other option.

  Mrs. Weatherbee, our landlord, goes to bed at 9 PM religiously. I always worry about talking too loudly around her. I’m afraid I’ll blow her off her feet or something along those lines. She’s eighty, tiny, and sensitive to sound. I guess that settles it. Dar and I have no choice but to stay the night with Lucas. Hopefully, we will come to see the light of day tomorrow.

  I slide into the cab beside Dar, and Lucas follows. “Would you quit giving me that look? I’m not going to hurt you, not now, not ever. Come up for some air.” He taps my forehead and then traces the outline of my nose with his finger. His touch makes me a little on edge, but I can’t fight what it does to my body. I close my eyes and welcome it as a distraction. My muscles relax, and I lean my head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around me.

  Lucas gives the cab driver directions to his place, and I exhale loudly. With my ear pressed against his chest, I listen to his heart beat erratically like mine. He’s as nervous as I am, and possibly, as unsure about all of this.

  Chapter 4

  Even in disasters, there are miracles

  In the middle of a hurricane, there is a calm of the storm

  While your world is crashing before you

  Shattering into a million microscopic pieces

  Somewhere at that very moment

  Someone is blissfully happy

  Such is the balance of the world.

  Cassandra

  Mom really knew how to pick a winner when she chose him as her boyfriend. I liked this guy, though. He was the coolest. Who else parties with a woman’s sixteen-year-old daughter? One of the reasons I liked him so much was that he didn’t attempt to take on the role of my dad. Every other washed-up-has-been my mom dated tried to tell me what to do and when to do it, but not him; he was so down-to-earth.

  We passed this bottle of Jose Cuervo for a while. It was his idea. I don’t remember drinking that much, but my head is swimming. I’m wasted. I’ve never drunk this much in my life. Usually after two shots, I’m done. Man, when Mom comes home from work, she’ll be so pissed we drank her tequila. I can’t see straight, but I try to keep my eyes open.

  He says, “Come on, Kid. You need to drink more. I told you that you were drinking with ‘The Big Dog’ tonight.”

  I can barely understand a word of what he’s saying or even look at him. There was three of him the last time I checked. He literally forces the alcohol down my throat by putting the bottle up to my mouth and making me take another shot. Despite fighting the urge, that last shot makes it impossible for me to hold open my eyes.

  A horrible stabbing pain brings me from unconsciousness. I’m being ripped apart from the inside out. He’s on top of me, holding down my arms. My legs are restrained by something. I drift in and out of consciousness. Every time I wake, I�
��m slurring, “No.” I try to get him off me by clawing at him. I beg him to stop, but he pushes harder inside and places his hand over my mouth and nose, cutting off my oxygen. I inhale, but it’s too hard to even attempt to take a deep breath. Breathe in...Breathe out. It’s so unbelievably hard to breathe.

  I can’t see anymore. My throat is on fire every time I inhale. I only smell him, a mixture of tequila, car oil, and clove cigarettes. The last thing I remember hearing is a devilish growl as he said, “You’re so cute. Don’t fight me, you stupid little bitch! You know this is what you wanted. If you tell anybody, I will kill your mother! Got that? Tell no one!” He squeezes my shoulders with his hands. I think he wants me to say something, but I can’t. I’m too terrified to speak, so I nod my head as tears slide down my face. “Good! Life lesson number one, you fucking slut. Trust no one!” I try to fight losing consciousness, but his hands keep tightening around my neck, and then the pain finally stops…

  People’s instincts differ when they’re waking up. At this moment, mine happens to be my fist, flying out in front of me in defense. It collides with something while a scream escapes my lips. Survive first. Explain later. I force open my eyes, only to find we’re still in the cab. The ‘something’ I hit was Lucas. When I try to slide away from him, he pulls me closer. “Lucas!” I shriek. “I’m so sorry. I have night terrors. I didn’t mean to...I thought you were…never mind...”

  I gasp at the shock of the situation. Guilt washes over my entire body, and my stomach begins to stir from the consequences.

  Lucas places his index finger lightly over my lips and stops the words from spilling out of my mouth. My body involuntarily shakes, as soft sobs escape around his fingertip. “It’s…uh... okay, Cricket. Go back to sleep.” He removes his hold from my lips and then wipes my tears away with his thumbs.

  My imagination must be going wild. In this dim lighting of the moon, it seems like he wipes my tears and then places his finger into his mouth. My eyelids are so heavy; they begin to close by themselves. I try to protest, but Lucas’ soothing voice sings and lulls me to sleep. “You are my calm, my wind, and my rain.” He then hums a soft, beautiful, but unfamiliar medley.