Black Rose (Lewiston Blues Series/Black Family Saga Book 3)

by Scully, Felicia X.

  I pad my way across my room toward the staircase. Once in the kitchen, I head straight toward the back door and steal my way outside. It’s a cool night but at the risk of waking Dash I don’t bother to go back in for my sweater. Instead, I walk down the stairs smiling as my bare-feet hit the cool, thick grass. Hugging myself, I glance up at the moon and wish for a split second I was back in New York—even Seattle would do. The view isn’t great. I hardly ever see stars or moonlight, but in a city with so many people with so many damn problems the weight of my own never got to me. I can’t decide whether or not that’s a good thing.

  “Hidey ho, neighbor.”

  I stand on my tiptoes, peering over the hedges toward the laughter that follows.

  “Hey, Luke,” I reply, my voice uncertain. I haven’t seen him since the night he tried to choke the life out of my boyfriend. Ever since I’ve been both embarrassed my dirty laundry was aired out like that and slightly terrified of the boy I grew up thinking was a saint.

  He nods his head back, gesturing for me to come join him and, for a moment, I’m frozen in place, wondering if going over there is the best idea. On the one hand, he did go from belligerent to homicidal in thirty seconds flat and on the other hand, the guy he flew off the handle at is lying upstairs in my bed, with no clue where I am. Should he wake up, for any reason, I can’t imagine he’d be thrilled to find me hanging out with his latest arch nemesis.

  “It’s okay,” Luke calls, regarding me with a smirk. “Your boyfriend and I made nice. Don’t think he’ll see it as a betrayal.”

  With one last glance back at the house, I slowly make my way into the Black’s yard. Luke is sitting on the bench on their back porch now, a beer in one hand a rectangular piece of paper in the other. I make my way up the steps and sit down beside him. When he notices me staring at what I now realize is a photograph, he tucks it in his pocket and leans over to retrieve another beer from the cooler beside him.

  “Your kids?” I ask, my eyes still on his jacket pocket.

  He nods, then opens the Budweiser and hands it to me.

  I don’t know what else to say, so I take it keeping my eyes on the mouth of the bottle. As far as I know, Luke hasn’t seen his kids—in the flesh—for over five years. The last time was the day he got out of jail. And that was only his son, Ray. He’s seen his daughter once. In the hospital, the night Shannon died. When Sheila told me he’d given them up while he was in jail—signed them away for what he believed would be a better life—I’d been shocked. It didn’t seem like a Luke-move at all. But time and circumstance had changed him into a guy I didn’t even recognize. By the time he got out of jail, he couldn’t find anyone that would hire him. He’d already signed all his money over to his kids, so he was left with nothing and no real chance at getting them back. So in usual Luke fashion—at least the Luke of the last decade—he self-medicated and made things worse for himself.

  I’d been kind of pissed at Sheila for a while, but it soon became clear that although her sister had chosen her as the kids’ legal guardian, it was her parents who took full responsibility. She still had a lot of cleaning up to do, so she became mama-in-training while her parents called all the shots. Including shutting Luke out for good. As much as I know she doesn’t agree with it, she’s never really had a choice.

  “You get locked out or something?”

  My gaze snaps up to his and the way he’s watching me—eyes traveling from head to toe and lingering from the neck down, suddenly makes me self-conscious. Still in my ankle-length black cotton nighty, with no bra and underwear, I can’t imagine what I look like. I sit back a little, doing my best to avoid the moonlight.

  “No,” I reply. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

  He chuckles. “Story of my life. Insomnia sucks. Especially when you’ve got loud neighbors.” I catch the mischievous curl of his lips, just before he brings the bottle to his mouth again.

  Speaking of…“What happened that night?” I ask, quietly. “You kind of…snapped.”

  He shrugs and takes a long guzzle.

  He almost looks guilty and I suddenly feel terrible for bringing it up. He said he and Dash had patched things up. Maybe I should just leave it alone. But I can’t help but wonder what got into him. Why he is the way he is. After years of being a bystander, why is he all of a sudden an instigator.

  “Seemed like things were getting a little out of control,” he finally says. “Thought I’d lend a hand.”

  Of course. Because that’s the kind of guy Luke is—at least the guy I used to know. Even if he did handle it badly.

  I fiddle with my own bottle, chewing on my bottom lip. “Well, thanks. I guess. It was nice of you.”

  Luke nods, but doesn’t look at me. He stares off into the distance and, for the first time, I notice the permanent scowl on his face. Almost like Dash’s—the grimace everyone else sees, but I don’t really notice anymore.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  Luke’s dull gaze meets mine, almost like he’s only just noticed my presence and he asks, “What?”

  “Are you all right?”

  He blinks then takes another swig. “Are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure about that? Dating the world’s angriest human being and all?”

  I sigh and place my beer down beside me, before making steady eye contact. “What happens between Dash and me is my business, Luke. And while I appreciate you coming to my rescue or whatever, I was perfectly fine. I had it…handled.”

  He laughs. “Sure.” The way he says it, like I’m a child, pisses me off.

  “I didn’t need your help,” I cross my arms over my chest and he rolls his eyes.

  “Dash isn’t just an asshole, he’s Grade-A. He intimidates to get what he wants, treats most people like shit—especially women, courtesy of his lovely mother. He’s only ever happy when he’s banging on those drums.”

  “He’s happy with me,” I respond with as much snark as I can muster. The way he’s judging me, my boyfriend, my relationship doesn’t sit right with me at all. I don’t know Luke like I used to, but he doesn’t know me either.

  Luke scoffs. “I don’t see how.”

  I sit back doing my best not to react, but it’s too late. I close my mouth and swallow hard.

  “That’s not what I meant.” Luke rubs his forehead. “Not you, Coco. Him. He’s not an easy guy to be around. I meant I just don’t know how you’re happy with him.”

  “Well, I am. And I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

  He laughs, lightly. “You’re probably right. But in the future, when you guys get into it, do you mind taking it inside? At least try not to disturb the peace?” He smiles, one that’s semi-familiar and I allow my shoulders to drop, before picking up my beer and leaning back on the bench. I cross my legs in front of me and glance up at the starlit sky.

  Luke side glances me. “So you’re just going to hang out here, uninvited huh? Now there’s the Coco Puffs I know.”

  “You invited me!” I snicker before taking a small sip. “I haven’t heard that nickname in years.”

  “You were like a fucking leech when you were little. Never went away. Used to drive Cole and Ross crazy.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind,” I say.

  He pauses for a moment, something flickering behind those gray eyes. “Younger siblings unite.” He clinks his bottle to mine with soft chuckle.

  “So,” I ask, my gaze stuck to the wood panels beneath us. “What’s up with you these days? You say Dash is Grade-A, but I thought you were going to kill him the other night.” I don’t know why I bother to bring it up again, maybe because things finally feel normal for once. I recognize a piece of the old Luke Black, the guy I used to be able to talk to about anything.

  He shrugs. “Just don’t like being intimidated. Or watching other people get bullied.”

  Our gazes meet and I nod slowly. “I really was okay, Luke.”

  “That happen a lot? He yell at you of
ten? Handle you…like that?”

  “It’s complicated.” I swig my beer, then bring my feet up and my knees to my chest.

  “There’s nothing complicated about the way he was in your face like that. That shit’s not cool. You’re his girlfriend. He should have a little more respect.”

  “You don’t understand. It’s a long story.”

  “Still. Not cool.”

  I sigh, deciding to let the subject drop for good. There’s no point in trying to make him see things my way. Besides, a story about pregnancy scares and STDs isn’t exactly a conversation I want to have with my neighbor—no matter how close we once were. “Thanks anyway,” I say. “It was nice of you to come to my rescue like that. Even if you were borderline psycho when you did.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Puffs. Any chance I get to put Dash Martin in his place is a moment well spent.”

  I shrug one shoulder and reply, “Well, if there’s anything I can ever do for you—you know, return the favor—just let me know.”

  I place my beer down and rest my chin on my knees. We sit there in silence for several moments before Luke asks, “You mean that?”

  I nod. “Of course.” And smile. “No matter what you say, you were still being chivalrous and I appreciate it. Even if it was just a bonus.”

  Luke turns to face me, clears his throat, and then almost as if he thinks better of it, shuts his mouth and begins to nurse his beer again.

  “What?” I ask. “What were you going to say?”

  He licks his lips, then lets out a heavy sigh. “Things are kind of fucked up right now,” he says without looking at me. “Like really fucked up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a lawyer right?”

  I nod.

  “And you and your dad are still on good terms?”

  I pause. If good terms means we still see each other once a week and he doesn’t look at me like I ripped his heart out by not following his footsteps to a tee, then yeah, I guess we are. I nod. “Sure, why?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Well, unless you’re looking to get back into the music business, my credentials won’t do much for you. I’m an entertainment lawyer. I’ve only ever worked with athletes and a musician here and there.”

  Luke sits forward, elbows meeting his knees. “I don’t need your credentials so much as I need your clout. Your Judge Rose’s daughter and I’m hoping you can convince him to help me out.”

  “With what?”

  A few minute later, I sit perfectly still on the bench, unable to look away from him. He’s relayed his problem so calmly, with such little emotion, I’m not even sure he’s being serious. But he has to be. Who would lie about something like that? And why would he lie about something like that to me—of all people?

  “If you could help, Coco, I’d really appreciate it. I tried to talk to my dad about it, but he’s being a dick and I’m running out of options. I tried to file papers at the courthouse but they wanted me to jump through all these hoops.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “She doesn’t have a whole lot of time left.”

  “And you…want to help her?”

  He frowns. “Of course. She’s my mother. She may have fucked up royally, but she doesn’t deserve to die for it.”

  I take his hand in mine and he immediately stiffens. Still, I don’t let go. I squeeze it, then rub my thumb across his warm skin. “That’s nice of you. Brave.” He meets my gaze and I offer the most sympathetic smile I can. “Unexpected.”

  He presses his lips together, his gaze dropping to my touch. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

  I pull my hand away and cross my arms. “I’ll be seeing him this weekend. Dinner with Cole and Maya. I’ll ask him then.”

  “What do you think he’ll say?” he scratches his scruffy chin, nervously.

  “I think it’ll take some convincing, but I also think what you’re doing is so admirable, he’ll seriously consider it.”

  “Even though he’s the one who put her away?”

  I nod. “Even though. My dad never hated your parents, he was just doing his job. Granting you Medical Power of Attorney, will be the same thing. All in a days work.”

  We sit in silence for a few more minutes, Luke finishing off his beer as I stare up at the sky.

  “Do you think I’m crazy? For wanting to help her? I mean after everything she did, does it make me pathetic?”

  He doesn’t look at me as he speaks, not until I rest a hand on his knee. “Luke,” I start. “You’re brave, like I said. And what you’re doing…I don’t know many people who would. After what your parents put you through, I can’t imagine how you feel. But I completely understand. I don’t think you’re crazy at all. I only wish I had the chance to save my mother’s life. As it turns out, I barely got the chance to know her.”

  He rests his hand on top of mine. His fingers tips are cold from the bottle and slightly damp from the condensation that’s settled on its surface. He closes his eyes briefly. “If you don’t want to be involved, if it’s too hard—”

  “Of course not. I’m going to help you. I promise. You haven’t had the easiest life.” I turn my hand palm up and clasp it with his, squeezing it lightly. “It’s about time things started looking up, wouldn’t you say?”

  He smiles, squeezing back. “I guess you’re right.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Luke

  As if morning wood wasn’t bad enough these days, I’ve woken up with illicit fucking images to go along with it. Thoughts I have no business having. A thin black nightdress, no bra, crisp breeze and a warm hand ghosting across mine. And that dream.

  Fuck.

  I do my best to push my dick down as I head straight toward the bathroom in search of a cold shower. As the icy water streams over my blazing skin, it doesn’t quite quell the ache in my southern region. And the images of her won’t stop cluttering my mind. The way she looked in that thing she was wearing last night, the way she touched me, smiled at me. How much her body has changed over the years. From a girl to a bone fide fucking woman. And no matter how much I try to stop it, the memory of seeing her completely in the buff all those years ago, comes tunneling back nearly knocking the wind out of me.

  She’d just been with Dash. At the ranch out in Woodinville. The night after Ross’s twenty-sixth birthday party. I walked into the room that morning to nothing but a full frontal view of Cocanda Rose and I can’t say I was even the slightest bit disappointed with what I saw. I wasn’t interested of course. Not back then. Back then, it had been a very long time since I’d looked at Coco that way.

  She was my neighbor and for the longest time, just the little girl next door. Then she kept getting older, we kept getting closer and I started wondering what the hell was going on with my prepubescent body. I’d started to feel things for her, a certain way around her that I couldn’t control. Kind of like now. But I managed to get over my little crush back then, successfully keeping it a secret from everyone around us. Just like I plan to do with this sudden attraction right now.

  Even though my dick is withstanding mercury dropping temperatures, I keep telling myself it isn’t the girl who’s got me like this. It’s the lack of any kind of contact with the female race for the past six years. When Coco touched my hand last night, I hadn’t expected to react like I did. For my heart to go off like a hummingbird and my junk to stand at attention. I’d hugged her at the hospital with no reaction. Maybe it was what she was—or wasn’t—wearing. I didn’t expect her to waltz over in nothing but her night clothes either. Even if she did, I didn’t expect it to turn me the fuck on. I’ve seen Coco in all kinds of different outfits, from princess dresses to naughty nurse Halloween costumes. But there’s something about the way the thin fabric draped across her chest, the way the wind caught it just right, painting it onto her body like a—

  Fuck! I smack the tile in frustration, then shut off the shower. I’m shivering, but still hard as hell. Wrapping the towel around me, I bypass my roo
m and head straight for the living room. I shove my go-to anecdote into the VCR and set out to relieve myself. Twenty minutes later, I feel like that much less of a man as I shut off the dirty movie and indulge in a much warmer shower. And though, I haven’t quite gotten those forbidden images from my mind, I have managed to quench the insatiable thirst—until I step out on to the back porch for a cigarette, letting out a string of curse words in the process.

  From where I stand, I can see over the shrubs that separate the two yards and just beyond the fenced pool in the Rose’s backyard. Perched on the edge of a lawn chair, slapping suntan lotion all over her already-toasted skin is Coco, in nothing but the tiniest red bikini I’ve ever fucking seen. I turn right back around and head toward the door. If I have to barricade myself inside this house for the rest of the day, that’s exactly what I’ll do. But there’s no way I’m allowing that image to be permanently engrained in my memory. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.

  Why the fuck did this girl ever have to come back from New York? Or meet me in the hospital that day? Or step into my yard last night? Everything was fine. I was fine. Living life the way I was destined to. Now I’m not so sure I’ll be able to continue being the guy I promised myself—and Shannon—I’d be.

  As I begin to mount the stairs, there’s a light knock at the front door. My heart instantly somersaults and I continue to my room. If, by some chance, she’s come to invite me for a swim, I need to run for cover before my weakness gets the better of me.

  The second I reach the top of the stairs, the door opens and I whirl around expecting my brother. Instead, I see the girl who he committed emotional suicide with.

  “Sheila? What the fuck?”

  “You didn’t answer and I have a key,” she replies sheepishly. “Sorry. I actually came to return it. And...well, to talk. Coco said she saw you on the back porch a minute ago.”