But this was different and judging from the knot between his brows, he knew it, too. He shifted from his position and met her at the top of the stairs. Lifting the backpack from her shoulder, he placed his other hand on top of hers and led her to his room.
“Have a seat,” he said, motioning to the big cherry bed and placing the backpack in an armchair. “So I guess you need a place to stay for the night?”
“Just for tonight. I can crash on the couch.”
“If that’s what you want.” He lit a stick of the patchouli incense he always smelled of and crossed over to his desk. He sat on the floor in front of her, legs crossed, holding part of a joint in his mouth and a lighter in the other. “You ever smoke a joint, Edie?” he asked, taking the joint between his fingers.
“Yes, well, a little. I tried it at church camp last summer.”
“D’you like it?”
“I guess. I was too scared to smoke much of it.”
“You’re safe with me. Let’s smoke a little. Just a little, okay? Too much and I just wanna sleep. Let’s go up to the roof.”
They crawled out onto the balcony off Skyler’s room and up onto a flat section of roof over the kitchen.
Smoke began to fill her head and her lungs bringing with it a sense of calm happiness. It was like when she was a kid and would get the giggles and wouldn’t be able to stop. Everything was just so damn funny.
Skylar’s eyes shrank to slits where she could barely see the celestial blue light behind them. She must have stared at him longer than she had realized, because he finally crawled over to her and put his face close enough to hers for their breaths to intertwine.
“You’re really beautiful, you know?” she said.
He hung his head and said, “Not as beautiful as you might think. You don’t really know me that well.”
She reached out for him and touched his face, moving her fingers along his jawline to his chin. She toyed with the bracelets that covered his wrists.
“Why did you come here tonight?”
“My dad doesn’t trust me anymore. He destroyed my room, went through all my things. I just can’t feel at home somewhere I don’t have any privacy. I’m eighteen, for God’s sake. I mean, when do I get to say what’s good for me?”
“They love you. They worry.”
“I know. I just want to be free to do my own thing. Like you guys do.”
“You don’t need to base your decisions on us. The girls and me had no one, no home, nothing. We only survived because we stuck together.”
“But you’re happy, aren’t you? Living by your own rules?”
“It’s not that simple. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a bit of a problem shifting gears too quickly. My dad got tired of the mood swings and kicked me out.”
“Like at the party?”
“Kind of. When I get around a lot of people, sometimes I don’t know whether I should look them in the eye or if that’ll piss them off. I mean, do you shake their hand or is that overkill? I don’t like being in spaces where there are too many people, but I force myself to so that people won’t think I’m really crazy. But then, other times, I’m the life of the party.”
“Don’t they have medication for that?” This, she regretted the moment it left her lips. Part of why she felt so drawn, so attached to him, was the motion of his temperament. He was moody and sometimes, withdrawn, but he was deep and dark and full of secrets like some ancient woods and she knew that his flaws were linked to things long past that could no longer be remedied.
He studied her, eyes searching for what meaning lay behind her words. She had wounded him.
“Yeah, I guess. I just, I don’t like them. I feel like I cease to be me. It helps with the lows, but I lose the highs and that’s the only time I feel alive.”
She moved close to him, trying to understand.
“I’m not strong like you,” he said, pulling back the bracelets to expose scars that could only have been caused by a razor’s edge. “Sometimes nothing is certain, and I don’t even know what I think.” He sat on his knees in front of her and buried his head in her chest. “I just know what I feel.”
15
“Why don’t we go out tonight? Like on a real date.”
“That’d actually be great, but I don’t think I managed to cram anything but t-shirts and long skirts into my bag on the way out the door.”
“I’m sure Rix can set you up. The girls have got the den downstairs full of stuff.”
“All right, where are we going?”
“How about The Devil’s Den?”
“The club out on 408? I can’t get in there.”
“You can if you’re with the band. Why not? We play there sometimes. Great atmosphere.”
Rix came to get her and showed her to the room where there were multiple steamer trunks, rolling clothes racks, and plastic tubs filled with an assortment of clothing and stage wear that most people never dream of. “Good grief. You really wear all this stuff?”
“I try. It’s not all mine. Wendy and Arlene are the same size, so a lot of it is theirs. You’re closer to my size, though, I think. What do you think?”
“I don’t even know where to start. I’m used to wearing dresses, so let’s just stick with that for now.” She told herself that wearing a skirt was for her own comfort and had nothing to do with the fact that it gave Skylar easy access to places she wanted his hands to be.
“I’ve got some cool boho type stuff over here,” she said, rolling one of the racks closer to Edie. “A lot of dark colors, mainly black, but there’s a few that are a pale pink that would suit you.”
“Wow.” The rack was full of flowing sheer dresses, delicate crochet pieces, floral dusters and kimonos, even some lace skirts. “They’re beautiful.”
“Yeah, I went through a gypsy phase. You’re welcome to any of them you like.”
One stood out to her as something that might accomplish her goal of driving Skylar mad and she gently lifted it off the rack. Rix grinned, revealing two large dimples in each cheek.
“That’s what I thought.”
“What?”
“You picked the one thing that is sure to drive him nuts. Bold, for a preacher’s kid.”
“I never wanted to be a preacher’s kid. I’ve done a hell of a lot to prove that I’m not down with the whole holier-than-thou crowd. Some I wish I hadn’t.”
“No regrets, babe. Do it. Live your life.”
“Thanks, Rix.”
“No sweat. Now, let’s go have some fun.”
The dress was black crochet with only a string tie holding it up. Backless and shorter than a mini skirt, it bordered on being a swimsuit cover-up, though the skirt did have a thin satin lining beneath it. Wendy had some combat boots to pair it with and she swept her hair up back into a messy braid.
Skylar’s eyes went wide when he saw her. There was a little upturn beneath the scant mustache and the change in his breathing was audible. His eyes followed the line of her dress from the neck down to where the lace lay over her breasts and fell away to her hips.
Moving behind her, he put his hands on her hips and whispered against the crook of her neck, “Whoa.”
“You like?” she smiled, feeling high on the chemistry between them.
“Mmm,” he growled.
“Can I borrow your phone before we go?”
“Sure. It’s on the desk in my room.”
She took Skylar’s phone into the bathroom with her just in case Billy answered, but it went straight to voice mail, so she decided to text him instead. Texting as quickly as she could, she left a short text telling him that he’d better call this number as soon as possible. She was really starting to worry that he might not ever come back.
Skylar was wearing black pants with a dark grey t-shirt that had the sleeves rolled up. His eyes were smudged with the kohl liner and wild black waves fell over his forehead making the blue of his eyes look like pale moons in a dark heaven.
The patchouli w
as heavy when he came near, making her want to bury her face in his hair and inhale the scent. It was earthy and lusty and mystical.
Skylar and the girls had packed up the guitars, amps, an insane amount of cords and pedals, and a keyboard into a van they borrowed from a friend. They weren’t scheduled to play, but sometimes, if the club had a cancellation, or the crowd didn’t like the band, somebody else would get a chance to play.
She would admit her heart danced a little when she visualized Skylar on stage at a club. She remembered the night of the party and how he’d commanded the guitar and the crowd while he was playing. She secretly hoped the scheduled band sucked so she could idolize him in his element.
After an hour-long drive south, they pulled the overloaded blue truck into the parking lot of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Black metal siding provided a backdrop for a huge red neon sign that read Devil’s Den. The tail of the “s” swerved back around the words and ended in a pointed tail.
Wendy and Arlene drove with Rix in the van and beat them there by about ten minutes. Wendy had talked the owner into letting them have a ten minute set and there were three guys unloading the van.
“Looks like Wendy’s got things under control. Wanna go inside?”
She took Skylar’s outstretched hand and followed him past the guys working the door. One of them gave her a suspicious glance, but said nothing. He gave Skylar a smirk and a little wave and they disappeared into the darkness.
Red and black streams of light refracted off glass partitions that separated the dance floor from the more private tables that were cloaked in shadow. Skylar greeted a couple of people along the way, eventually guiding her to a table just at the edge of the floor near the stage.
It struck her that she wasn’t even sure what kind of music he played. He listened to a lot of singer-songwriter stuff, but that’s not what he was playing the night of the party. That music was a dark mix of slow back beats, low and rhythmic, with a probing guitar riff that made you want to swing your hips.
“Don’t run off.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to make an appearance with the other bands backstage. I’ll be back in maybe ten minutes.”
None too happy at being left alone, she sulked in the shadows.
A pulsating beat filled the sound system and the energy from the music clutched her heart with its vibration. She saw the girls come onstage and recognized that this was their set. A voice boomed through the driving beat to introduce them to the crowd.
“Give some love to Lithium and Lust.”
A moment later, Skylar was onstage. The lack of enthusiasm from the crowd didn’t deter him. Without missing a step, he grabbed the microphone stand and dragged it out in front of him.
The beat sped slightly, leading up to the bridge, where the guitar licks became grinding and demanded your allegiance. As the crowd gathered around the stage, Skylar commanded them and the spell he was weaving over them took hold.
She stayed her course, enjoying the music and the show, smiling and trying not to melt beneath his penetrating glare. By the time Skylar finished the song, the crowd was so pumped she hardly heard the woman behind her say, “So, you must be Edie.”
“Do I know you?” Edie noticed she had a hard look about her, but even with the scowl she wore, she was extraordinarily beautiful.
“Skylar used to live with me, before he inherited the house.”
“Oh.”
“Apparently the house came with some baggage.”
“Excuse me? Look, I don’t know your history with him and I don’t care to. If you have a problem with Skylar, then maybe you should take it up with him.”
Edie felt him watching her before he’d crossed the twenty paces it took for him to reach her. Inserting himself between them, he said, “Marla. This is Edie.”
“We’ve met.”
“Don’t cause a scene. We just came here to play and have a good time,” Skylar said.
“We need to talk. Now.” Marla stalked away toward the back.
To Edie’s dismay, Skylar disappeared backstage with Marla and she was left at the table, alone. Half an hour had passed before Rix and Arlene saw her and came to get her.
“Don’t just sit there. Get out there and dance!” Wendy said. “Look, Marla and Skylar have a long history. Drama from the word go. If you wanna get him away from her, you’re gonna have to do something drastic.”
“Like what?”
Arlene shoved a random guy into her path and said, “Make him jealous.”
Marla knew who she was and that meant something, didn’t it? She began to wonder if that was why he brought her here, to use her to rekindle the spark between him and his old lover. Heat and adrenaline began to pulse through her at the notion.
When Skylar reemerged from the dressing rooms, he found the table empty and began searching for her. She watched him moving around the dance floor and waited until he caught sight of them before making the guy in front of her glad he came.
She wasn’t about to let him think he could use her in whatever game he was playing. She would be no one’s pawn.
Edie took Wendy’s shot of bourbon and downed it in one go. Making certain that Skylar’s eyes were on her, she began to dance closer to the poor guy Arlene had thrown in front of her. He wasn’t bad looking, but he was average in the light of Skylar’s glory.
She put her hands on the guy’s neck and moved her hips toward him. Moving her hands down his chest, she flipped the hem of her skirt up, teasing.
The music abruptly stopped and Skylar’s voice boomed through the speakers. “This one’s for you, Edie. Hope you’re having fun.”
Her heart sank like a scolded child’s as the beginning notes of a Bob Dylan song floated to her ears. His anger and hurt and jealousy burned through her with every word of “Make You Feel My Love” and she found herself at the altar of the sky once more.
After the song was finished, he jumped down from the stage and disappeared into the crowd. The lack of live music was attributed to technical difficulties and dance tracks began playing through the sound system.
He stormed through the crowd, a fierce squall that met her head on. Skylar took her by the arm and forced her away from her pawn.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Having fun, like you said.” She tried to disguise the tremble in her voice that would betray her.
“Why, Edie? Because I was talking to Marla?”
“You left me. I thought…the girls said that,” she broke off.
“The girls don’t know everything. I was only talking to Marla because she asked me to play another set. The last act canceled.”
“I’m sorry.” She was sorry to hurt him, but the sight of him standing there so angry, sweaty and hot and flustered because of her, made her want him.
He took a step toward her and stopped, railing against himself. She put her hand out to touch his cheek and he pulled away. Every muscle of his body was pulsing with emotion, a coiled spring ready to strike.
“Are you really that jealous?” he asked.
“Aren’t you?”
There was a rush of heat and sweat and patchouli when he came at her, possessing her right there in front of everyone with a probing kiss that sent her reeling.
The throbbing beat of Depeche Mode’s “I Feel You” thundered through the club as Skylar’s hands moved down her back and onto her bottom, drawing her closer. His erection apparent against her lower belly, they swayed together to the music.
Skylar turned her around so that her behind fit against his lap and she used her new position to her advantage, moving her backside back and forth against him. His hands clutched at her hips as he planted his mouth on her shoulder, trying to change the motion of her sway.
“You’re killing me, you know.”
Skylar’s hand disappeared beneath her skirt, massaging her thighs and skimming the front of her panties.
“We can’t do this here,” she moaned, leaning back against him.
“We can do whatever we want.”
They moved to the depths of black at the fringes of the crowd and found an empty booth. He sat her in his lap and whispered, “You know that’s part of why this feels so good, right? You think it’s dangerous, that it’s not right somehow. You might get caught.”
“I guess.”
“Have you ever got caught?”
“No,” she whispered.
He pulled her hips back into him and in a ragged voice said, “I wanna fuck you right here, right now.”
They could scarcely move to keep people from noticing. He slipped into her while his smoldering breath scalded the bare skin between her shoulder blades. With every kiss he planted, the stubble scraped the sensitive skin on her back sending new sensations down into her pelvis. She put her hands on the table to steady herself as he moved his fingers over her sex.
Barely moving, his hands dug into her hips. He was struggling not to fuck her harder and not being able to move in any way that would release them was driving them both mad with want.
In desperation, she began to swivel her hips, grinding herself onto him and making him pant. Unable to stop herself, she grasped the edge of the table and pushed, riding him until they were both satisfied.
In that moment, she didn’t give a damn if anyone knew what they were doing.
16
She was beginning to think Skylar would never let her come up for air. For days, they’d done little more than make love and smoke pot and eat. At times, they lazed around the old house reading books and looking through art he had done years before.
He divulged that he had grown up in Phoenix. His mom left when he was five and his dad had such a drinking problem that he hardly noticed he had a child, let alone care for him.
“I was about fourteen when I left. No one even came to look for me. Two years later, I heard he was dead.”
“Is that when you met the girls?”
The Color of My Native Sky Page 8