Please, Pretty Lights (Pretty Lights Series Book 1)

by Ina Zajac

  She shrugged and glared back at him, but said nothing.

  “Come on…guess,” Nick taunted her. He began humming the Jeopardy time-is-almost-out song. “He’s from Sea-aaa-ttle!”

  Matt could see they had pushed her too far, so he shot Nick a stop-being-an-assclown glare.

  Nick stopped humming and yelled down, “Buzzz. I’m sorry, but you’re out of time. The question we were looking for was ‘Who is Duff McKagen?’” He hit the bass drum twice for effect. “Part of Seattle’s punk scene before it was cool, then on to Guns N’ Roses, Jane’s Addiction, Velvet Revolver—”

  “Shut the hell up already!” Matt yelled.

  Nick scowled, then offered an obnoxious cock of his head. “And Walking Papers,” he added. “Okay, now back to balloon animals.”

  Alicia laughed, but Kaytlyn just flipped her hair back, and whined, “You guys are so old.”

  Nick ignored her and zeroed in on Alicia. “So, Autumn-Alley Cat, you should come back after work tonight.” His sticks hovered above the snare. He released enough tension so they fell and rebounded, slow at first. “We can go up to my room and make balloon animals.” He brought them to a fast, firm roll, then hit the hi-hat. Then back around the toms.

  Alicia’s smile could not have been any wider. Matt looked on, jealous. Women seemed to love his friend’s corny sense of humor. Nick wore I-don’t-give-a-fuck like cologne. It pulled Alicia up onto the stage. She was asking him about the ink on his right arm—Animal from the Muppets. She went around the drum kit and he leaned toward her so she could examine it. Nick lowered his voice. Matt had to laugh—so typical. Nick was probably reeling her in, telling her he had more body art, under his shirt. Matt smiled and shot his friend a tip-of-the-hat look. But then he sensed Kaytlyn.

  Matt looked over to see her hips swaying in his direction and was caught in her wide-eyed seduction. He couldn’t help but appreciate the way her boobs were heaving out of her pink bra, which was peeking out through her delicate black blouse. A few months back they had hooked up for a while. While she had been fun, the whole thing seemed way too convenient. Even the hottest girls lost their appeal when they tried too hard. He hadn’t touched her since he heard she was one of Carlos’s back-office sex toys, which made her ineligible to maintain her friends-with-benefits status. He wasn’t naïve enough to think girls were virgins, but he didn’t want to have a visual. He also loathed that yeah-I-fucked-her-too look that passed from man to man.

  She took another step closer. “Your strap is crooked. Let me fix it.”

  He tensed. It wasn’t crooked. He would know. He shifted his weight away from her. “I don’t like people touching my stuff,” he said, using a tone much harsher than he’d intended.

  “You used to like me touching,” she gazed up and whispered, “your stuff.”

  No doubt, the girl had some skills, and she knew it. Black eyeliner made its way across her lids and leapt out toward her temples. She rested her hand on his ass. He wished he could vanish out of the situation and go anywhere else in the world. He would rather clean the couches in the Hotties champagne room after a bachelor party than have to reject a girl right to her face.

  Josh was coming in through the side door, and Matt saw his escape. “Hey, man, nice of you to join us,” he said as he got up on stage.

  Kaytlyn returned to the couch as though she had been scolded for trying to steal a cookie. Maybe he was a jackass, but Matt didn’t bother to console her. Mixed messages would be bad. Instead, he turned his attention to the guys. Within a few minutes, just as he had hoped, the girls left without any drama. Nick and Josh walked them out to Alicia’s car while Matt remained on stage, muttered, “Bye ladies,” and admired his bass as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Sometimes he was obsessive, but more often than not, he just didn’t want to deal with people.

  He positioned a folding chair in his usual spot. It was just upstage and to the right of the drum set. The stage was painted black, but there were three parallel indentations where his bass stand rested. He liked to be halfway between those marks and the drum set. He began tuning his bass, gently resting his pointer finger on the E string and his ring finger on the A string. Growing up, he had dreamed about being on stage playing his bass in front of a sea of enthused fans. He had not dreamed about driving keys of cocaine across state lines. Looking back, it was one of those minor decisions he’d made with little consideration.

  She came to him again, the way she had smiled. Why was he thinking about this girl so much? She’s engaged. Engaged wasn’t married, he told himself. She felt lucky somehow. Fuzzy lyrics made their way into his mind.

  He wanted to figure out a way to get to know her outside of the club, in broad daylight where he could make out who she really was.

  The home tour...

  He would call and ask her to help, maybe bring some food. He felt a hopeful smile lift his cheeks. Every year since he could remember, strangers had trounced through G-Dane’s house and “oohed” and “ahhed” over the woodwork. Everyone said the staircase was a treasure. This would be the first year that Nick’s grandmother would be coming as a guest. Of course, it would always be her house, but he and Nick, and hopefully Via, would act as hosts for the day. She didn’t know yet that he and Nick were both decent cooks, that they were perfectly able to entertain the tourists. Just a little white lie. What could it hurt?

  CHAPTER 13

  VIA

  VIA PARKED across the street, not sure how many cars would be coming and going throughout the day. She was twenty minutes late, for no particular reason other than she had changed her clothes four times. She would blame the ferry.

  Her hands were clammy. Her tongue burned from the mint in her mouth. Why was she so nervous?

  Day 78, she realized.

  Don’t think about it, she scolded herself as she opened the trunk and grabbed the mini quiches and baby lemon pies, two trays of each. Should she take two trips? Probably. But the morning air was cold. She had forgotten her gloves.

  The house looked so dramatic draped in morning fog. The yard was beyond impressive, though those rust-colored trees she had admired before were now just skeletons. The guys must have had a grand old time raking them all.

  She started down the walkway and remembered how she had run right into Matt that first morning. At the time, she’d never thought she’d see him again, yet here she was. She couldn’t tell him no when he called. He needed her help. She could never resist the “H word.”

  She was startled by hissing behind her. What the—? Something was nipping at her ankles. Dogs? She shrieked and ran up the porch steps. They were right on her heels, relentless. Her foot caught on the top step. She bit it, fell to her knees, and watched her goody trays tumble out over the porch. More hissing. Afraid to look, she screamed.

  The front door opened and Matt looked out through the screen door, his brows furrowed together in confusion. “What the fuck?”

  He opened the screen door enough for her to squeeze through then closed it. She slid up next to him. He put his arm around her. From the safe side of the screen door they watched two raccoons tear apart quiches and pies. Lemon pudding covered their claws and whiskers. A third paced back and forth. Crazed. It bobbed its head from side to side. A fourth hunkered down under a porch chair, licking a cake pan.

  “I can’t believe this,” he said, pulling her hands into his. “Did they bite you?”

  She had to think about it. “No,” she said. Embarrassment seeped through her whole body. Had she really screamed like that? Were they rabid? Her knee hurt from the fall, but she was too embarrassed to mention it. Her mind was a whirl.

  “Wild raccoons in West Seattle?” she asked him.

  Nick was there. “What the fuck?” They gave him room to look out through the screen door. The hissing got louder again. One of the raccoons was zooming back and forth from one end of the porch to the other.

  Matt shot Nick a look.

  “No. You think?” Nick
asked.

  “Has to be. Special treats from your Betty Crocker Stalker.”

  Matt let out a little laugh, which led to another. Nick shoved him so hard he let go of Via.

  “It’s not funny,” Nick scolded him. “Stop laughing, chucklehead.”

  “I don’t get it,” she said.

  Matt spoke right over her. “G-Dane will be here any minute. What should we do? A broom?”

  “No.”

  “Should I get my acoustic?” Matt asked, still snickering. “Play them some Eagles?”

  “No, wait. I know.” Nick ran upstairs.

  “This girl, she creeps on Nick—hard. She’s always leaving brownies and cookies on the porch,” Matt explained. “We just toss them. God knows what’s in them—roofies, PCP.”

  “The raccoons are high?”

  “Hope it’s just weed.”

  Nick came back with a big firecracker and a lighter. “Get back.”

  “M-80?” Matt asked. “You can’t, you can’t, they’ll go deaf!”

  Nick opened the door, lit the fuse, tossed it out onto the porch, and closed the door again. “No way I’m letting tweaker raccoons bite my grandma!”

  Matt pulled Via back, deeper into the living room. Nick joined them and they watched through the front window. Boom! Raccoons bolted and scattered in all directions.

  “One, two,” Nick counted, “three, four. They all seem okay.”

  Matt scrunched up his face. “That’s so messed up. They are freaking out, high as fuck. Where they off to now? Did you even think about that?”

  “As long as they stay gone ‘til four,” Nick said.

  “Bro, I told you to talk to that girl.”

  “Oh no,” Via realized. “The food.”

  Matt opened the front door. They all peeked out onto the porch.

  Slivers of aluminum foil were scattered about among splotches of whipped cream and lemon. She could only see three of the pans.

  A white minivan was pulling up. The lettering on its side read “Wesley Gardens.”

  “Ah, fuck me all to hell,” Nick grumbled as he sprinted down the walkway.

  “I’ll grab a mop,” Matt told her. “My favorite is in the basement.” She wondered how many mops he owned while she collected pans and ran them into the kitchen. By the time she got back to the porch, Nick was coming up the walkway with a one-hundred-pound, white-haired old lady in his arms. Gently, he set her down at the front door.

  “Oh my Goddess! What on earth?” she asked when she saw the mess on the porch.

  “Raccoons,” Nick told her. “Jumped Via here. Scarfed down the food she brought.”

  The old woman let out a chuckle, which calmed Via’s nerves.

  “Hi, G-Dane.” It was Matt, there with a quick hug. His voice was bright. “I want you to meet Via.”

  “Via? What a lovely name,” she said, her wrinkled pink lips curled up into a kind smile. The little woman shuffled into the house, her face crinkled in adorable determination. She seemed far too young to be using a walker. Her bold turquoise necklace popped against her ivory sweater. Her pants and shoes were basic black. “Sorry, dear, those little buggers have been a pain ever since the neighbor boys threw away their science experiment. Didn’t close the garbage lid down tight.”

  Nick directed them all into the living room. Grandma Daney and a dark-haired woman, whom Nick introduced as Nurse Amy, sat on the couch next to the fireplace.

  Curious, Via had to ask. “Science experiment?”

  “A three-foot-high volcano made out of Oreo cookies, and it didn’t make it through the night. I hope they didn’t nip you. They could have rabies.”

  “No, not a scratch.”

  “People are going to be here any minute,” Nick said. “Dude, will you make the cider? I’ll make a Thriftway run?”

  “Done,” Matt assured him. “I’m sure the ladies will have a good time getting to know each other.” On his way through the dining room, he turned and told Via, “She’s ultra-granola, thoroughly groovy.”

  “The house looks lovely,” Grandma Daney said as she took in the room. “It feels so good to be home. The energy is so beautiful here.”

  Via just smiled, sensing Grandma Daney had more to say.

  “My grandfather built this house for my mother,” she said, looking toward the staircase. “There is love in every colonnade, every beam. He attended to every little detail.” She closed her eyes, inhaled, and held it. Then she smiled and exhaled, calm and sure. “I’m ready,” she said. She opened her eyes again and smiled in Via’s direction. “People can come now.”

  Looking back into Grandma Daney’s thoughtful, pale eyes, Via instantly adored her. The old woman sat with her hands together in her lap. When Via saw the way they trembled she wanted to hold them, ground them in her own. God, if only she could have known her own grandmothers.

  “I’m beaming love in your direction,” Grandma Daney said. “Can you feel it?”

  She could.

  Before anyone could say another word, there was a solid knock at the door.

  ***

  VIA

  IT HAD BEEN a long day, but even after three-dozen tourists, Nick’s grandmother didn’t seem the least bit tired. Nick said she was seventy-one and healthy, except for the Parkinson’s, which is why her hands shook so terribly. Nurse Amy seemed to be there every hour with another pill. Nick said the medication she took for the shaking made her nauseous and the medication for the nausea made her drowsy. Apparently not today. Her cheeks were rosy, her laughter, frequent.

  The porch stairs were a problem, but it seemed like they could easily build a ramp. She would ask Matt about that later. For now, she was happy to stand back and listen to Grandma Daney talk about the house her grandfather had built back in 1916. The latest visitor was a plump middle-aged woman, nice enough.

  “Yes, it’s true some of the current wall paint is not in keeping with the Craftsman style, perhaps it’s a bit bright, but I’m not a fan of mustard yellow, and after all, the Craftsman movement itself was about artistic freedom.”

  The middle-aged woman smiled. “The ceiling beams and built-ins are gorgeous. The window seats are lovely. But it’s a shame you’ve remodeled the kitchen. The island, and all.”

  Grandma Daney laughed in the woman’s face. “That remodel got me a dishwasher. That’s progress. Now please, help yourself to some apple cider. It was so nice meeting you. Namaste.” She led Via over to the couch where Nurse Amy sat hunched over, hyper-focused on her phone. “Namaste is what I tell people when I want them to go away,” she said. “Now, we finally have a moment to ourselves. Let’s sit and chat. Did the boys tell you I can see auras?”

  “No. Can you?”

  “Auras, orbs, lights—everyone can. We can see anything—anything we are open to, that is. I can see you are a seeker, an Indigo Child, perhaps.”

  “A what?”

  “Special spirits,” she said. “Born wise beyond their years—curious, empathetic, creative, intuitive. Mattais is one, for sure. It makes sense he would attract another into his experience.”

  Intrigued, she turned and looked toward the kitchen, but she couldn’t see either of the guys. She turned back. “Special spirit? You can tell that, just by looking at me?”

  “I can feel your soul force. It’s delightful.” Grandma Daney smiled. “You have an energy blockage though. Fourth chakra—that’s your heart.”

  She brought her hand up to her heart. “And?” she asked. “Is there a cure?”

  “Oh, of course,” Grandma Daney said. “People block off their life’s energy, their inner power, all the time.” She leaned forward.

  Via did too, her hand still against her heart.

  “Dear, I’m guessing you tend to be hard on yourself. This life isn’t everything, you know. Don’t take it all so seriously. Have fun.”

  “This life?”

  “Yes, we are all spiritual beings, having human experiences. Remember, you are eternal. This is just a life you’re
having.”

  “You believe in reincarnation?” Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Another shot at a happy childhood. Maybe in her next lifetime.

  “I prefer the concept of nonlinear time,” Grandma Daney said, eyes shimmering. “The power of now. Countless lifetimes, all happening right now.”

  “Mrs. Daney, please,” Nurse Amy said, putting her phone away. “You’ll scare her. She’s not used to your new age, law of attraction, great awakening rantings.”

  “She’s not scared, and she must be very special to have Mattais doting on her.”

  True, he had been in to refill her cider, more than once. She loved the way he looked at her. Like he didn’t care what other people thought. Dan wouldn’t even hold her hand in public.

  “He’s a sweetheart,” Grandma Daney added. “Brilliant, actually, but—”

  “But?” Via’s chest felt heavy. “But what?”

  “I’m afraid he was born to parents who don’t understand him. He’s a nonconformist. Creative types always are.”

  “His parents?” she asked. “I don’t know anything about them.”

  “They’re wonderful. Live in Phoenix now. They didn’t know how to handle his sensitive nature. Poetry and painting soothed him; they wanted football. He didn’t go to college and that was challenging for them to accept. Though, life is our ultimate classroom.”

  “That’s enough,” Nurse Amy said. “Please stop it. I’m embarrassed for him.”

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to gush, but I am so fond of Mattais,” Grandma Daney said warmly. “So, tell me, how did you two meet? I bet it’s a cute story.”

  CHAPTER 14

  VIA

  BURTON COMMUNITY CHURCH didn’t look much like a church from the road. It had no steeple. It lacked a prominent cross. Its windows were clear and offered no inspiring stained glass portrayals of Jesus Christ in all his glory. Dan had promised her BCC was becoming more and more progressive, but she wasn’t so sure. Its board of elders was made up of a bunch of old, white men. While there was a rainbow banner hanging outside, she couldn’t help but feel some holier-than-thou resistance, especially from the older parishioners. Dan said it would be a process and to be patient. He encouraged her to focus on the next generation, which she did. She strived to preach tolerance while they were still young enough to grasp it.