He nodded, walking forward and extending his hand. “Yeah, I’m Benny.”
She met his palm with her own, before adjusting the grip so she managed to cradle his hand in hers. Squeezing and tugging, she pulled him a step closer and then, lifting to her toes, she pressed her lips to his cheek, fingers of her other hand cupping his jaw. Grinning up at him, she said, “I’m Eddie. Want you to know, Slate’s brother is always welcome in this house.”
Footsteps in the hallway heralded the entrance of Bear, and Benny watched as the big man scooped an arm around Eddie’s middle, tucking her to his side, holding out one hand for a wrist-clasp with Andy. The two men didn’t speak, but a bond deeper than friendship was written on their faces. His gaze cut to Benny and he lifted his chin, then said, “Bear.”
With a nod, he introduced himself. “Benny.”
“Boys, cool it.” That was to the small boys running through the room, the older of the two hitting the couch cushions at a run, planting a foot and vaulting over the back. “Come on, Miguel, can we not try to kill ourselves today?” Then, on a shout, Bear called over his shoulder, “Vic, Mitty—Benny’s here.” Lifting a hand to Eddie’s face, he tipped her chin up and leaned down to brush his lips across hers. “My heart, I need to talk to Slate outside for a few. Can you help the guys get set up?” Gaze back to Benny, he said, “Club business, I’ll come jam after we settle shit, yeah?”
Hand nervously fiddling with the case strap over his shoulder, Benny nodded, relieved he’d get a chance to talk to Vic and Dmitri without much of an audience. Moving his gaze to Eddie, he saw her watching him and wondered if she’d seen his relief. “No worries, me and the guys can catch up while you talk to Andy.”
Snorting a laugh, Bear echoed him softly, reaching out to slap Andy’s shoulder. “Andy. Hilarious, brother. Buy him a clue.” With nothing more than that, he and Andy turned and exited through a door leading to the parking lot, neither man looking back as the two band members strolled down the hallway and into the room, skirting the boys now energetically wrestling on the floor.
“Hey, man,” Vic greeted him, hands stuck in his pockets, looking unsure of himself. Dmitri circled close, silently thumping him on the back as he swung to face Eddie. “How…you doin’ okay?”
“Sober ninety-eight days.” The doc said it was okay to count the hospital stay before he was shipped off like a misbehaving dog to corrective school. “I’m cool.” Hand to the strap over his shoulder, he jostled the guitar case. “You guys ready to play a little?” Vic nodded enthusiastically while Dmitri gave a shrug. “I’m a lil’ rusty. You’ll have to cut me some slack.”
Dmitri’s neck twisted, head turning to face him and Benny braced when he saw the anger burning in his eyes. “Thinkin’ you got all the breaks you’re getting for a while, man.”
“Fair,” he returned instantly. “More than fair.” Holding out his hand, he showed the tips of his fingers. “I’ll play until I can’t, then I’ll play some more. I want OY back, man.”
Eddie spoke up, her voice casual, even with the emotions swirling between the men. “Slate know you want that?”
Arms out to either side, he bumped into Dmitri, who stepped sideways. “He brought me here, didn’t he?” Not really an answer, but then again, he didn’t want to lie to her, and he hadn’t talked directly about the band. Andy had to know he wanted it back, though. Gaze to the closed door separating his brother from him, he considered. “Gotta count for something.”
She nodded. “Might do so. Let’s get you set up.” She preceded them up the hallway, calling over her shoulder, “Miguel, Roderigo, don’t forget about practice tonight. Gather your baseball stuff.” To the three men following her, she said, “Youth league, takes a ton of time, but will be worth it if those two learn to be teammates.” Her tone was loving and casual, tolerant of the steady riot of noise from the two boys.
“You’ve adopted them, right?” Andy had said as much, but since neither she nor Bear were Mexican, the lack of birthparents was glaringly evident.
“Bear did. It was final about a month ago.” Even from behind he could see her head tipped down, hear a tone he couldn’t decipher enter her voice when she said, “They are his family. Those are his boys.” Framed pictures on the wall captured Benny’s attention, and he stopped stock-still in front of one. An image of his brother was on the wall. Andy, a broad grin on his face, sitting astride his bike, what looked like a dozen kids piled on with him. In front, behind, hanging from his shoulders, in his lap—they were attached to every possible location. The two boys he’d met today, a taller girl, half-hidden behind Andy’s shoulder, and a whole slew of others who all had the same look to them. Eddie’s voice carried amusement when she said from beside him, “Slate looks good with them, yeah? It’s good he loves kids.”
“He wants kids?” That was something he’d never thought about, being an uncle to his brother’s children. It seemed weird asking her a question he should know the answer to, but thought she probably already recognized, like everybody else did, how the two brothers weren’t really friends.
Eddie giggled. “Ruby’s preggers, so I hope he does.”
Twisting to face her, he stared in shock at her brilliantly happy face. “No shit?”
“Shit free.” Leaning in, she gave him a quick hug and then backed up the hall towards an open door. “Barely, but this is good.” A serious expression hit her face, and he grimaced because he knew this was about Ruby getting kidnapped. “She didn’t get pregnant until after everything, so she and Slate can just be happy about it. And they are.” Gesturing to the door, she waited. “Come on, play your guitar for me. I love music.” She grinned and teased him as he hesitated. “Sing to me, kind sir. Regale me with one of your, no doubt, many talents.”
An hour later, his fingers had a steady, deep burn stinging the tips, but he and the guys had an audience of four smiling faces he wouldn’t trade a full venue for. The oldest brother, Rafe, wandered in early during the session and sat on the floor next to Eddie, who was leaning against a bed. She already had Miguel’s head in her lap, so Rafe took possession of her shoulder, angling into her. Roddy, the middle boy, was lying on his back, head pointed towards where Benny, Vic, and Mitty were seated on the second bed, chin tipped to the ceiling so he could look at them upside down. Eddie seemed to have forgotten baseball practice and Benny didn’t remind her, not wanting to break the moment. He and the guys were jamming and flowing, rolling the lead back and forth between the guitars; Vic showed himself a taskmaster, pounding on the beatbox and sounding out the rhythm, keeping them marching ever forwards.
The door opened to show Bear with Andy walking in behind him. Eddie startled and looked at her watch, wrinkling her nose. Bear went to her first, stooping to ruffle Miguel’s hair and then cupped her jaw, lifting her mouth to his. It wasn’t sappy or stupid, didn’t make him look pussy whipped or foolish, simply a natural action that let you know this couple was affectionate like this all the time. It looked good, sweet, and beautiful. She whispered to Bear, and he grinned, kissing her again, a quick reassurance for whatever worry she’d shared.
Grabbing a well-worn six-string off a stand by the closet, Bear settled onto the bed near where Eddie sat while Andy leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. Looking at Bear, Benny asked, “Anything in particular?” Vic and Mitty laughed, and Bear grinned at them before turning back to Benny. “What?”
“Dude can play anything,” Vic said, starting a distinctive beat using the heels and palms of his hands to improvise the bass lead-in for a hugely popular song. “Check this.” Looking at Bear, he grinned, bobbing his head in time. Eyes closed, Bear listened for a minute, then he smiled, fingers moving on the strings, and he rounded the corner on the melody, picking up where Vic was in the tune. Mitty—Benny had adopted the nickname already—grinned, also falling into line.
Benny listened for a minute more, then found his place. Support to Bear’s lead, counter to Mitty’s adaptation of the bass line, Vic taking over
the percussion. Perfect. Seamless. As if the four of them had been playing together forever. They went from that to an 80s classic, which got Andy’s fingers snapping, and then to a different decade, followed by another current popular selection. Eyes closed, Benny followed the lead of whoever felt moved to pull them into a song.
A discordant twang pulled Mitty’s playing to a halt, and Benny opened his eyes to see his friend nursing a finger, pulling it from his mouth to see blood welling from a cut caused by a broken string. “My cue,” Eddie said, sliding Miguel to one side, the deeply-sleeping boy not waking. Andy moved to one side, as pushing to her feet, she walked out while the musicians all stretched hands, which seemed to be painfully cramping all of a sudden.
Benny glanced at the window to see only artificial lights outside. Jesus, we’ve played all afternoon and into the night. A noise at the hallway caught his attention, and he twisted in time to catch the barest glimpse of what might be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Dark hair trailing over her shoulders and down her back, she walked past the doorway and down the hall, calling in a musically accented voice, “Eddie, I’m home.”
Benny ripped his gaze away from the door to see Andy watching him closely, eyes narrowed. What now? He shivered, the beauty of the woman moving through him in a way he felt might mark him forever. Memories of dreams from rehab washed over him, and he closed his eyes.
Dark eyes, red lips, smiling up at me. Singing.
Fingertips touching the strings of the guitar, gliding over the frets and stopping, then moving, stopping, strumming. Humming, he sang in his head, If you’d told me I’d see her once and be hooked, I’d laugh at you. If you’d told me her beauty would call to me in the night, I’d laugh at you. If you’d promised me a lifetime of beauty like hers, I’d laugh at you. Knowing nothing is as sweet, nothing is as pure as the promise of love.
“What’s that?” Bear called across the narrow space between them.
Benny shook his head, fingers already digging for his phone. “Nothing,” he lied, and Bear laughed, clearly understanding what was going on.
“Gimme a sec,” Benny muttered, then froze in place as Bear’s fingers picked out the song as Benny had played it, then added alters to make it better, embellishing and changing phrasing in a way that made Benny’s fingers itch to play. “Wait up. Jesus. Hold on,” he said impatiently, then hit record on his note app, frustrated because when the music had him in its grip like this, wringing his heart in his chest, nothing moved fast enough to keep up. “Okay, go.”
Picking up the main melody, Benny held it steady, repeating the verse phrasing until Bear and Vic were with him, Bear adding in the alters again, changing it up even more. Then Benny opened his mouth and softly, so softly it felt like he was in church back in Enoch, whispering on the back bench with Danny, he sang.
When the last notes died away in the room, he looked up to see Bear grinning at him, lips stretched wide in his face. “Exquisite, man. Honored. Nothing more beautiful than the birth of a song.”
Benny grinned back and was looking down to save the file on his phone when he heard Eddie coming back up the hallway. Eyes to his phone, he didn’t see the two women walk into the room, so was startled when he heard the musical voice again, so close he could feel it against his skin. Looking up, he had a brief glimpse of her face before she angled away to talk to Rafe. He focused on her eyes first. Luminous and brown, they fit perfectly in her beautiful face. Then he saw her mouth, generous, full lips. Lips he wanted to feel moving under his.
She lifted her chin, and he had a flash, like a memory, but knew he’d never met her before. He was sure he’d remember her. If there were a million women lined up, he would pick her out if he’d ever been blessed to see her before. In his head, music and lights surrounded her, and he could swear he saw her crimson lips moving, smiling as she sang along to an OY song. Shaking his head, he finished with the file, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Feels good.” He belatedly responded to Bear’s statement, picking the guitar back up, hissing through his teeth when he set his fingertips back to the strings.
“Give it a rest, Benny. You don’t have anything to prove to me, man.” Mitty scowled at him over Eddie’s head as she wrapped tape around his finger. “That was a good one to end on if you want.” Shaking his head, Mitty looked at Eddie. “Well, doc, am I gonna live?” Benny shivered at the words, not sure why they bothered him.
Laughing, she tucked his finger into his palm, closing the rest of his fingers around it. “I think so.” Twisting to put one knee to the floor, she looked up at Benny. “This is Bear’s daughter, Lucia. She’s Rafe and the boys’ sister.”
Lucia. He would definitely remember her name. Still filled with the unsettling thought that he’d met her before, he smiled and stuck out his hand. “Benny Jones.” With her chin tucked to her neck, she gave him a quick smile before lifting one hand in a wave, keeping her distance and leaving him hanging in a way no one in the room could miss. Shifting to a similar wave, he said, “And you’re Lucia. Pleased to meet you.” Definitely not a fan. Shit.
It felt as if every person in the room were staring at him. He had performed in front of hundreds of fans, lit up like a Christmas tree by spotlights, and never felt as exposed as he did at this moment. Time to run away. Jerking his gaze from her, he looked at Andy, feeling more like a kid than ever when he asked, “Ready to go home?”
Twelve
“I can’t believe you’re still living with your brother,” Vic said on a laugh.
Benny leaned over to pick a glass off the floor, downing the last of the tea Ruby had brought him an hour ago. He grimaced at the watered-down taste of melted ice. “Me, either,” he responded finally, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. “Andy’s still on his trip, though, and he wanted me to hang out here so Ruby wouldn’t be alone.”
“I heard that,” a feminine voice called from upstairs, and Vic laughed. “It’s a small apartment, baby brother. I can hear—everything.” She giggled, and he cringed. “But, you’re in luck.” Quick footsteps descended the staircase and Benny looked to see her approaching the couch, her beautifully rounded baby bump preceding her. Giddy with happiness about the pregnancy, she had been the perfect housemate. Their friendship had grown strong, and he felt close to her, closer than he’d ever felt to a woman, and Benny realized he did think of her like his sister. Bossy and sweet by turns, she hassled and managed him, making life better because she was there.
Ruby was never up in his face about his recovery, helping smooth things instead of making them harder. Once she learned his routine, he would find her patiently waiting for him at the door, keys in hand, so she could take him to scheduled meetings. Without him having to ask for favors, or having to put a difficult and embarrassing request into words, she saw the need and handled it. Like she handled his brother.
Against the doc’s express orders to get Benny into an organized treatment plan, Andy had listened to Benny’s promises about staying straight. He swore to Andy all he had to do was remember the last few times he laid eyes on their mom, and he’d turn away from anything mind-altering. Their deal was he'd attend at least three meetings a week, find a sponsor, and not slip. All threats aside, if he fucked up, he knew Andy would have him back in rehab so fast his head would spin. Just the thought of that Arizona desert wasteland was more motivation not to ever do it again.
So he hit the meetings and tried to make the available programs work for him. Some weeks saw his ass in a folding chair more than three times. Just trying to stay straight, keep his tally going in the right direction. Two hundred and fifty-three, and counting. But, every day saw him still struggling to hold in the wanting, that need so huge in his head, pounding and echoing through his thoughts, begging to be fed. The desire eating through his belly in a way he knew he needed help to beat it back. His sponsor was a cool dude, a local photographer who needed to stay sober so he could keep working. Sometimes all Benny had to do was text him, and when the response came i
n, simply seeing it would steady him, making it so he could breathe through the next sixty seconds.
One minute at a time. Still sober, he thought, looking up at her. “Why is my luck turning?” Pushing his lip out in a pretend pout, he whined, “I like my luck. Don’t turn it. Stop touching my luck! Imma tell Andy.”
“Silly,” she said, flopping on the couch beside him, hand on the side of her belly. “Slate called.” Grinning, the happiness poured out of her in a giddy flood, and he found himself smiling back at the petite beauty. “Guess who’s going to New Mexico?”
“My brother finally wise up that if he left you alone here much longer, you’re gonna pop before he sees you again?” He made the sound like a champagne cork, and her laughter bubbled out again, echoed by Vic’s. “I take it you’re headed out to see him?”
“Yeah.” That one whispered word held a lifetime of longing, and he thought there might be something there. Closing his eyes, he tried to follow it, frustrated when nothing surfaced. Nothing. He’d written nothing in months. Unless you count Lucia’s song, he thought, then dragged his fingers across the strings randomly, breaking the silence with the jangling noise. He and Vic had worked on the song he’d started calling “The Promise of Love,” but it wasn’t quite right yet. We’ll get it.
Mitty had headed home to Michigan for a break, leaving Vic and Benny behind, but promised he’d be back in a heartbeat when they were ready to start performing.
Benny just wasn’t ready, yet.
The idea of getting onstage gave him chills, making his insides shake as much as his fingers did a dozen times a day. He’d talked to Bear about it, learning how music came into his life, listening as his friend talked about losing his wife and daughter to a terrible accident. Loss that changed the fabric of his life in a way he was still struggling to recover from.
Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself Book 1) Page 11