Mason’s voice rang out in a loud and raucous shout. “Fuck yeah, love me some Kentucky down-home music.” Crap, now I gotta remember what fucking bluegrass songs I know.
“Well, that’s for later. Guess we’ll have to play some rock and roll after all. Y’all ready? Ready for some music right here and right now?” He settled himself on the stool with his heel propped on one rung, guitar balanced on his leg, other foot planted on the stage as he waited out the applause. “Here we go.” Without additional preamble, heel bumping against the stage floor, keeping time, he swung into the first song he could think of, “Born Into Trouble,” and as the men on stage with him found their places in the melody he looked straight at Slate, willing him to understand the meaning behind the lyrics were so different now. Promising himself he would tell his brother outright, make him understand.
Mouth working automatically, words flowing easily, singing a song he had performed so many times he had literally done it in his sleep, Benny’s heart skipped as he watched Mercedes make her way to the table he’d been trying to ignore, the woman seated there looking at him, watching him. Waiting for him to claim her. Lucia’s face swung to the side, her attention taken from the stage when Mercedes planted herself in the chair next to her. Shit.
Twenty
Benny played onstage for nearly three hours without a break. There were moments where he spoke into the microphone, talking to the patrons around the bar, speaking to his friends and family. Mercedes kept him supplied with water, and along with the rest of the band, he found himself upending bottle after bottle, the lights taking a heavy toll on all the musicians. The other men had gradually collected stools and chairs, and they now sat in a rough half circle reminding Benny strongly of group, an intimate collection of people who shared a force in their lives that drove them to great lengths to feed their need. In this case, it was music and the joy they found while creating it.
After each run to the stage with an armful of bottled water, Mercedes retreated back to the table she seemed to be permanently sharing with Lucia. Moments after she replanted her ass in the seat, the two women leaned in close, having what looked like a lengthy heart-to-heart. Bonding over a sticky bar table listening to the oft-changing music led by a man who felt more broken bard than band front guy. But it was the role cast for him tonight, and he led his friends from song to song, even dredging up a bluegrassy tune Mason approved of, if his smile and bobbing head were any indications.
All night the music had held him together, and when he felt like he’d fall apart, Bear took over, nudging their playing to some of the songs he knew best, the angel playlist he’d shared with Benny. What Bear had first started out with. Playing and singing along with him was surreal, knowing the man had lost everything and then worked his ass off to find there was more to come. More in his future, waiting for him to be ready to claim it. He never gave up.
Benny’s eyes drifted back to Lucia, thinking about the claiming part of things. It wasn’t until this last trip to rehab that he’d spent much time talking about the things that happened with Benita. He’d opened up to Doc about all the shameful things he’d done at Benita’s urging, but if he were honest, and honesty was surely demanded when doing the kind of soul searching he’d been conducting, it hadn’t been hard to talk him into any of it. Doc argued strongly that all blame rested on Benita’s shoulders, but Benny knew differently.
At first, yes. Maybe. He’d been too young and vulnerable to reject anything she wanted, his need for acceptance so strong that even her brand of fucked-up felt good. But, even after the power in the relationship shifted, he scarcely refused her anything. Couldn’t find it in himself to turn down a blow job, or a wet dick and Benita liked it. I liked it. Collusion disguised as acquiescence.
Doc had explained how things had gotten tangled up in his head. Desire and drink. Booze and bustin’ his nut. Tied up together in a way that meant he didn’t have a good chance at ditching one without the other. Thank God, that was the one thing he seemed to have known instinctively, not been able to put a label on it before the doc talked him through, but knew in his gut. So, since arriving in Fort Wayne, all those months ago, he’d unconsciously abstained from sex.
He and Lucia had played around a little, and when the need reared up inside him, it scared the shit out of him. So even before going back to rehab this last time—please God, let it be the last time—he had kept things slow and low-key as much as he could, suffering her touches and teasing, giving her what he could. Knowing what she needed was more of the same. Tender caring, from someone who loved her. Someone like me.
“Hey, you in there?” Bear’s voice came from beside his ear and Benny jerked away, pulling his head around to find him standing close. “You’ve been staring at my Luce for a good ten minutes, strumming the same tune. We’re tired of playing that one, dude. Pick something and go with it.”
Nodding slowly, he let his hands rest on the strings, waiting as the others did the same, Vic using the moment to set his guitar aside and make his way off stage. Without giving himself time to think about what he was doing, Benny shifted his grip, readying for the first swing across the sound box.
Turning to look at Lucia, he found her eyes on him, and the steady, loving look took his breath away. Even now, she cares. A D-minor slipped to a C-major, then back again, and again, weaving through the sounds into the melody. Bringing Bear, then Chase in, setting their roles in the song, Mitty bleeding along the edge with them until they settled, then Benny swung off to the counter, holding and holding, then the bridge, holding a moment, then back around to the melody. They took one full tour through the music before he let himself lean into the microphone, every eye turned towards the stage as the spotlight focused on him.
“This is a song I wrote a few months ago. We’ve been working on it, polishing it up, waiting for the right time to let it shine. This feels good. Feels right. Full circle here tonight, playin’ in Marie’s with friends and family. I hope you like it.” He paused briefly, then, pulling all his courage together, said, “Luce,” his voice fell to a whisper as he finished, “this is for you, baby.” Bear’s indrawn breath was audible, but his hands never wavered on the strings as Luce’s lips parted, waiting. “I call it, ‘The Promise of Love.’” Then Benny, for the first time in his life, sang a song to a woman he loved. A woman he prayed knew every word had been written for her, meant for her, and she was meant for him
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
Nothing is as sweet,
Nothing is as pure,
As the promise of love.
There’s a moment in time where your heart knows,
Mine beats for you.
Never making peace with the hollow left behind,
My heart weeps for you.
Finding you again grants my dream come true,
It’s always been you.
It’s you for me and me for you
Nothing is as sweet
Nothing is as pure
As a promise come true.
Be my promise, baby.
My promise of love.
True love come to me.
My promise come true.
Love me, like I love you.
Be my baby, be mine.
My baby.
Mine.
As the last notes trailed off into silence, the bar erupted in applause. Stomping boots, slapping hands, piercing fingers-in-the-mouth whistles—they gave him one of the loudest ovations he’d ever received. But most important was the woman who made her slow way towards the stage. Dark hair swinging around her shoulders, brown eyes only for him, he waited, and she came to him. Mine.
Twenty-One
Benny stretched, roll
ing to his side on the couch, hearing voices in the kitchen. Fuck. He needed more sleep. Sounded like Ruby had company, and since he was still staying with them, camping out on their couch, she couldn’t entertain in the living room, so she made do. Never complaining, that wasn’t her way, she simply made things work. Shushed laughter told him she was watching out for him. He stretched again, then rolled to his back, shoving one hand behind his head, as with his eyes closed, he considered his night.
Best ever, was the first thought to pop into his head. Finding the music, finding his way through to being able to bring that out in himself, felt like he was flying high over everything. A better high than he’d ever had before, and he made a note to call Doc and tell her he got it. How tied up music and sex was with the booze and drugs for him. Harddrive had been the first person to see he needed something other than what he was getting, but over time, even the music had gotten warped somehow.
Not anymore, he vowed, then grinned. Being part of a productive, creative, sober band would be a change. A huge one, one he knew wouldn’t be easy, but it was a challenge he welcomed. Bear was a big part of what happened last night, and he couldn’t believe the change in course there. In the weeks since he’d been thoroughly put in his place by the man, Benny had come to realize some hard truths about himself. The work he’d been doing wasn’t for anyone this time. Wasn’t for Slate, or Ruby, or even Lucia. All for me.
He sighed. Luce. These past weeks of seeing her, knowing she was out of reach, never to be his, never anything more than a friend had been harder than anything he’d ever done. Knowing it was through his own behavior and actions he’d lost her? That tore his heart out of his chest, every time he woke and knew he wouldn’t be seeing her that day. Or the next. Or ever, if Bear had his way.
Then to see her last night, looking at him with such hurt in her eyes, but still showing up to support him. For all she knew the distance between them was entirely Benny pulling away, needing space. Intentionally being busy. Having other plans. The million and one excuses he had come up with in response to her calls and texts, her inbox messages, and dozens of questions passed through Ruby. I love her. This affirmation was as rock solid now as he had been when he told Bear. A statement he knew would only grow stronger every day. No matter what, even if he never got to tell her. Then last night happened.
Her in his arms last night? Amazing.
She walked to the edge of the stage, and he laid his guitar down, jumping off the raised platform. As he had so many times in the past, he reached for her hand, but she slipped through and into his arms. He held her, then, as if they were in a private room, as if there weren’t a hundred bikers and their women watching. Blocking out the words, the shouts of laughter, the rumbling questions. Holding his Luce close, wrapping her up in everything he had to give her, face buried in her hair, hers pressed tightly to his neck. Arms secure around his waist, she held on, and when the men on the stage behind him began playing a slow song, he swayed with her, breathing her in. Beginning to believe this was happening. She was real.
When the music ended, he led her to a quiet corner of the bar, sitting beside her on the bench seat of a booth. “Benny,” she began to speak, then faltered, halting when he lifted a hand and curled his fingers into her hair, tugging her mouth closer to him for a kiss, the soft brushing against her lips torture when it ended so quickly. Then, in a rush she said, “We need to talk.” Now his heart was seizing in his chest, but for an entirely different reason. Terrified. Those words didn’t say “we’re building something here,” they didn’t say “I cannot wait to be with you.”
She couldn’t have missed his silence, but she forged through, making certain all was good with him as he found his fears weren’t based on anything. Mouth open, he stalled, not knowing what to say, but she made it all right, as he knew she would.
“With Bear’s stuff, and whatever it was that crawled up your butt, we haven’t had much time to talk. Everything happened when we were barely getting used to each other.” She took a long, shaky breath. “But, I want you to know I understand you need to work on your sobriety.” Chin tipped down, she hid from him, and he reached out to lift her face, needing to see. There were tears in her beautiful eyes, but she bravely moved forward in the resolute way he’d come to expect from her. “Just don’t shut me out again, okay? I need to know you're all right.” Gaze locked on his, she pinned him in place. “You…matter so much to me, Benny.” There was the tiniest hitch to her voice when she continued, “I need you to know that what you said? Up there on the stage? It meant everything.”
“It’s all true, you know that, right?” He heard the pleading in his voice, willing her to believe him.
“I know, Benny. For a long time now, it’s been you and me.” That tremble was again present, and he leaned into her, resting his forehead against hers. “And what you gave me up there? You gotta know it comes back to you tenfold. A hundredfold. So much, Benny. Promise.”
DeeDee shook him from his thoughts when she walked into the living room, holding Allen, pausing in the doorway with one hand on her hip. “You’re finally up.” With a grin, she padded barefoot towards him, and Ruby appeared in the doorway behind her, Dani in her arms. Eyes to DeeDee, he stared up as she stopped in front of him. “Got a favor to ask you, kiddo.”
***
Standing in the Zamboni tunnel just off the rink, Benny shook his arms out for the thousandth time. Bouncing from foot to foot, he tried to shake the nerves wrecking his composure. Wireless microphone clenched in one fist, his fingers were hurting, the flesh bloodless and white from clamping so tightly around the plastic. The sound of the crowd rose in the arena, swelling into the space, chatter and conversations lifting to the rafters as people filtered in, finding their seats. Hockey. He shook his head.
The Tridents were in the playoffs, but if they didn’t win tonight, it would be the last game of the year for the team. Sudden death, he thought and had an unexpected memory of ceiling tiles split by bright lights, flashing overhead as the surface he was on racketed down an endless hallway. He shook it off. Jase’s team had to win to keep going, and a loss would mean immediate elimination.
DeeDee had organized this, him being here, giving him a chance to perform without the pressure of performance. One song, one minute and fifty seconds by his watch. No music, pure voice; he would be singing the national anthem a cappella. He’d joked with Slate earlier about taking book on the length, telling him he’d throw short or long if he got a sign. Like I’ll ever make it big enough to worry about that. Chin lifted, he hummed a scale, stretching his neck to one side and then the other, trying and failing to block out the sounds around him.
Feet planted wide, face raised, eyes closed, he let himself grow still, calming his thoughts, and just breathed. Simply…breathed, soaking in the knowledge he was about to sing again. Sing for people who didn’t know him, and who, for the most part, could do without his performance entirely because it would be lodged midway between the team taking to the ice and when the referee would drop the first puck of the game. A necessary annoyance for some, a patriotic celebration for others, but not entertainment. That would be the guys with sticks. Realizing he wasn’t the draw, an even larger measure of the stress and nerves dropped away.
And then it happened. As it so often did, trying to take him unawares.
The craving flooded in around the edges of his mind, swamping him, taking him under. He was drowning, carried off in a tide of hunger for something. Anything. Cramps curled in his belly, gut and muscles revolting, a riot in his body for a demand that must be met. His chest seized, lungs refusing to work. No air. Nothing. Pure need.
Heat hit his skin. A small hand to his arm captured his attention, and he tipped his head down to see Mercedes looking up, her hair blue and purple this week. “Bibi.” All she had to do was say his name, and he took a breath. Another one. Her belief anchoring him.
An arm circled his waist, and he looked the other direction, seeing those beautiful bro
wn eyes shining up at him with love. He stared, breathing, wondering if she knew the miracle she performed every time she looked at him like that. He had everything he needed, right here. Everything.
Mercedes’ hand flexed on his arm, and he felt her push him, hearing the introduction coming from the announcer, “…Jones, lead singer for the chart-busting band, Occupy Yourself.”
Lucia smiled, and he dipped his head, brushed his lips across hers and took a deep breath, giving himself a final moment of peace before he stepped out onto the rug the arena crew had dragged onto the ice. Wouldn’t do for the loudmouth guy to fall on his ass. “Please rise, and gentlemen, remove your hats…”
Microphone lifted to his lips, Benny swept his gaze across the people crowded into the rows of seats stretching far overhead. As he opened his mouth and took a breath, there were only a few faces turned his way, most of their eyes were fixed on the flag hanging from the rafters. Perfect. Strong and proud, his voice flowed out, mastering the notes, rising and falling, until two minutes and three seconds later his lips closed, cutting off the final word. Applause, ringing so loudly his chest shook with it. An unfamiliar noise, the slapping of wood on ice and he looked over to see Jase and the Tridents looking at him, yelling and whistling, tapping their hockey sticks against the boards and ice, congratulating him.
Two fingers to his brow, he saluted Jase, gaining a chin tip in return, then he was off the rug and back into the tunnel. Stepping to one side, he, Lucia, and Mercedes waited so the arena workers could quickly clear the ice, close the doors, and ensure everything was ready for the game to begin. “Well done, Bibi.” He flashed Mercedes a grin intended as thanks for her quiet praise. Lucia received thanks of a different kind, his mouth working against hers, her giving back to him at the same time, arm tight around his waist, squeezing.
Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself Book 1) Page 19