by Lindsey Hart
He got up and poured them both a cup of coffee. He added cream since he knew Jordan couldn’t stomach the bitter molasses tar that Ted passed off as morning java, without something to help it go down.
After his mug was set down in front of him, Jordan nodded his thanks.
His mind wondered briefly before he reined it in. In an odd way, Ted reminded Jordan of his grandfather, the one person who meant more to him in the world than anyone else. He’d been fighting lung cancer for four months. He’d been so sick when Jordan left they didn’t think he’d make it another week, but he pulled through. Jordan wanted to cancel the tour when he found out, but Henry Wall wouldn’t hear of it.
Son, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. No need to slow down and stop for an old man who should have gone a long time ago. His creaky smile had been followed by a racking cough tinged with blood. Besides. I miss your grandma. It’s been nearly twenty years since I saw her. I’m ready to go, Jordan. I don’t want you to stop your life because of me. I want you to keep living it. You of all people deserve it. Find your happiness. Find yourself. He’d smiled then, like he knew that despite three bestselling books which were, essentially about that exact thing, finding your true self and living the best life you could, Jordan was as lost as ever.
Ted threw a small notepad and a pen onto the table in front of Jordan, startling him. “You look like you need to talk. You thinkin’ about him again?”
Jordan’s hands shook as he reached for the pen and small notepad. He flipped it open, to the first blank page. There were a ton of torn away papers, all used by himself, though Ted carried the notepad with him in the pocket of the worn out plaid shirts he preferred.
He didn’t have to confirm what Ted already knew. He was the only person Jordan had confided in about his worry for his grandpa and his impending grief at the passing he knew wasn’t long in coming. It would happen during the tour and somehow, he’d get through it. That’s what he’d always done. Picked up his life and carried on with it.
To his shame, the sting of hot tears welled up behind his eyes and clogged his throat shut. Not that he could have said anything had he wanted to. He glanced towards the window quickly, blinking furiously.
“Aww, shit.” Ted sunk back down across from Jordan. He braced his hands on the faux wood tabletop. “There ain’t any shame in crying, Jordan. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve seen a grown man cry, I’d be a rich man, as they say. You have no idea the kind of things I’ve seen on the road. Loneliness, drugs, heartbreak… musicians, man. They’re a breed all on their own. Me, when I lost my own parents, my dad first, then my mom ten years later, I cried like a baby. Bawled my eyes out both times. Am I ashamed to admit that? Absolutely not. I’ve seen a lot of guys lose their way, lose their souls, dry up ‘til they don’t feel nothing at all. That ain’t for me. You get what I’m saying?”
Jordan nodded again. He managed to get his emotions under control, despite how free Ted was about sharing. He didn’t grow up that way. The people who he called mom and dad always taught him to be tough, at least when it came right down to that kind of thing. His dad was strict, the kind of guy who was quick to hand out punishment and never once used the words, I love you, and had absolutely never shed a tear in his life. He didn’t think he’d ever even seen his mom cry.
He finally grabbed the notepad and scrawled something on the first line. Even his writing was off, his hand shaking so hard he could barely grip the pen. He turned the pad around and pushed it across the table.
Ted took it between fingers twisted and swollen with arthritis. He stared at it for a minute before he set it back down.
“So, your mom will text when it happens? You won’t go back for the funeral?”
Jordan reached for the pad. Again, it was exchanged.
“Not if you have shows. You should cancel them Jordan when it happens. Go home. Pay your last respects.”
He grabbed the notebook back, wishing like hell Effie was there to translate. The thought of her, swimming through his mind, her beautiful bohemian fairy like face and her gorgeous smile, nearly made him wince. He thought again about the way she’d sidestepped the kiss he’d been stupid enough to try and he felt more foolish than ever.
He scribbled another line and handed the notepad over.
“You already paid them. Said goodbye before you left. It’s what he wanted.” Ted’s rheumy blue eyes, faded with time and age, glistened with wisdom and kindness. Jordan couldn’t have asked for a better driver. Ted had been the one person he’d hired himself. He knew as soon as the guy stepped into the small office where they were holding interviews, that he was the right fit.
He snatched back the notepad one more time and scribbled one last line before he stood, coffee untouched. He paused though because he couldn’t leave before he knew what Ted thought.
He wasn’t surprised at all to see a sheen of moisture form up in the other man’s eyes. “Well shit.” He set the notepad down. “Yes, I’ll be with you. That’s a pretty high honor.” He took a shaky breath and picked up his coffee, dark black and thick as hell, and took a long pull. “You gonna call makeup in here and break the news to them or should I?”
Jordan grinned, the atmosphere once again light though his heart remained as heavy as it had since the day he’d left the farm and stepped onto that bus. He’d wanted to prove to everyone, with that first book, that he could make it. That one day he’d put his life together and be something, that everything that happened before that only made him stronger. That those who had tried to break him, ironically enough, turned him into a success.
Even with the so-called fame and the money, more successful books, and a tour he didn’t feel like he was there at all. Sometimes he still felt like the baby who was abandoned by his own mother, left bleeding and broken and scarred. Sometimes he still felt like the kid no one wanted.
Success meant nothing when it came at the wrong moment. He’d liked the idea of doing a tour, getting away and seeing the country, meeting new people, until he’d found out that his grandpa wouldn’t be back home waiting for him when he finished. In the face of his grief, all that success meant nothing at all.
He got a grip real fast before he could lose his shit and really break down, right there in the middle of a damn tour bus. He was the one who told people how to get their lives together.
He slowly pointed towards Ted and the guy laughed so hard his burly, gnarled shoulders shook.
“Alright, I’ll do it, but next time, it’s on you.”
Jordan signed, there won’t be a next time, even though he knew Ted didn’t know ASL. He turned slowly and went back to his room. He needed an hour alone before he faced his crew and then another full auditorium of people looking to him for all the answers.
If only they knew that he was still as lost as they were.
CHAPTER 7
Effie
Effie stood backstage, far earlier than she needed to be there. She felt she needed extra time to ready herself for the show. She had a good hour yet, but she hadn’t slept well and felt more than a little off her game. She was afraid she’d mess up and humiliate herself yet again.
Her dreams were haunted by Jordan’s face. She would never forget the burning intensity in his eyes, the way the neon lights glistened off those spectacular blue orbs or the light that came from within. She’d replayed that moment over and over, that moment right before he kissed her.
Sometimes she changed the outcome. She’d considered what it would be like to be kissed by the man she hadn’t been able to banish from her thoughts since she’d first seen his headshot online weeks before she found out she’d got the job.
But no, he’s my boss. I can’t lose this job. I can’t go there. I won’t go there. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would actually consider anything with strings attached either. Is that what I want? Strings? Why him? Why him when no other guy has ever held my attention? What is it about Jordan Wall?
Effie didn’t have any ea
sy answers, so it was a frustrating night and a long morning and afternoon. She wished she could pop over to Jordan’s bus and check on his eye and cheek. The areas were already darkening, bruises and swelling forming up on their cab ride home.
But she’d completely humiliated herself and him, in the process. There was absolutely nothing she could do to make it better.
The only thing she was absolutely certain of was the fact that if Jordan hadn’t been in her mind before, he was there now, and he was there for good. Something had changed. Something was different. She was determined to keep him out, to keep him at a distance. It was absurd. She’d never even expected him to notice her. He was famous, the main attraction, and she was just a translator, nothing at all. Now, after the near miss, she knew only one thing; she wanted that kiss.
If there was a next time, she’d take it.
No, there can’t be a next time.
She was so lost in thought she didn’t hear the heavy footsteps behind her. When someone tapped her on the shoulder she started, nearly jumping right out of her skin.
“Oh my god, Jordan,” she gasped. “You nearly scared the life out of me.”
I’ve done that before, he signed. Sorry. It’s not like I can just call your name.
“No, of course not. It’s alright.” Effie took the opportunity to study his face. His makeup team had done an incredible job. The bruising around his eye was completely gone and there was just the slightest amount of swelling on his jawline. She couldn’t even tell that he’d been hit there the night before. “I want to apologize again, er- for last night,” Effie mumbled, realizing that by bringing it up, she’d only served to embarrass them both all over again.
Jordan’s broad shoulders rose and fell. His clothing, a dark dress shirt buttoned right up to the top with a dark blazer and equally dark slacks, was as immaculate as ever. His clothing always seemed to fit him so well, like it had been tailored. Maybe it had been. His pants hung on his narrow hips like a sinful form of seduction.
Effie dropped her gaze, heat rushing to her cheeks. This isn’t me. She couldn’t even recall the last time she’d ever blushed before she met Jordan. She noticed that his hands were moving, and her eyes jerked upwards.
Did Cora make it back ok?
“Oh. Yah… it’s funny you should ask though, she’s been sick ever since she got back in, about an hour after I did.”
How much did she have to drink?
“She swears it’s not that. She says she didn’t have a lot. They didn’t finish off the bottle they bought or anything. Probably lost it along the way like we did. She didn’t say anything about Hank, but I saw him buzzing around with the sound people when I came in so I’m sure he’s fine. She has a really high fever, so I would tend to believe it’s not just a hangover.”
Not good.
“No. She was really upset about not being able to work tonight.”
Tell her to relax and take it easy. The only thing that matters is that everyone tries to stay healthy so that the shows go off smoothly. I would hate for people to have paid money for a ticket and feel disappointed because of something on our end.
“Yah. No kidding.” Effie swallowed hard. “Anyway, you’re early… for the show I mean.”
I was hoping I could talk to you first.
“To me?” Effie squeaked. She blushed again, at the sound of her tiny little surprised voice.
Yes. I wanted to say that last night wasn’t exactly appropriate. You have nothing to worry about in the future. I think we need to just both forget it and move on…
Move on. If only it was that easy.
“Yes,” Effie heard herself agreeing, as though it was someone else speaking. She nodded violently, fighting her own wild disappointment down.
Jordan returned her nod and walked off, disappearing back in the direction he’d come. They didn’t have to be on yet for another half an hour.
Effie took a deep breath. The sounds of people shuffling into the massive auditorium already reached her.
Forget it. That was far easier said than done, especially when the person she was supposed to forget kept walking around, handsome as sin, temptation incarnate.
CHAPTER 8
Jordan
Ted waited until Jordan was up the next morning, sipping his usual dark java, to break the news.
“We have an outbreak of some flu on our hands. Six sound people are sick since yesterday morning. Four others went down in the afternoon, two more in the evening. Two people from makeup this morning.”
If Jordan had the ability to, he would have sworn softly under his breath. As it was, his hand clenched around his mug.
Ted threw down the usual notepad and pen onto the tabletop and Jordan scooped them up. His hand cramped up from writing he went so fast.
We can’t have anything threaten the show. I don’t want to refund sold out venues and we don’t have time to reschedule. Since we have four buses I think it would make sense to quarantine the sick onto two busses, the healthy on another and the recovering on the forth. Do you think it could work?
Ted paused for a minute. “Yah,” he finally said, wrinkled brow creasing further. “It seems to be a twenty-four to forty-eight hour thing. I think Cora in sound got sick first and she’s already feeling a bit better this morning. It’s mostly a fever, aches, pains… unpleasant, but some will probably choose to work through it if we need them to.”
Alright. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. I think we should use our bus for those that are still healthy.
Ted’s bushy brows nearly disappeared into what would have been his hairline if it wasn’t so receded. “That’s not gonna work. There are fourteen sick so far. We don’t have room for the rest.”
We’ll have to split the recovery bus with those that are healthy still since people are probably more contagious before or right as they get sick.
“Good plan. We have five bunks since I have one. There’s also the pull-out couch so we have room for one more person, maybe two, but it wouldn’t be a comfortable night.”
Jordan just nodded. He slammed back the rest of his coffee, even though it was scalding hot. He just hoped they could contain the outbreak. He’d left home, left his grandfather behind for the tour and it just wasn’t in him to do anything halfway. He wouldn’t cancel shows if he didn’t have to. He could only hope that everyone would stay healthy or people could at least get sick in waves so that they’d have enough people to run the sound and lights.
Even a skeleton crew would be better than nothing.
Jordan banged the table suddenly, demanding Ted’s attention. He turned, and Jordan started writing furiously on the notepad.
What about Effie? Is she sick?
“Not so far.”
Good. Get her on this bus immediately. We really only need a few people to keep the shows going and that includes me and her. As long as we can manage to stay healthy, we’ll be alright.
Ted nodded, but Jordan read the doubt in his eyes. He knew that Ted thought they would have to cancel some shows. You couldn’t, after all, fight against a virus. Not really. If it chose to strike, that was that.
***
Fate sometimes played tricks on even those who had the best of intentions.
Five people were moved to Jordan’s bus. By the end of the following show, four people had to be moved off. The flu spread like wildfire through the crew. He’d said that he hoped he and Effie stayed healthy and so far, they had. Their bus consisted of himself, Effie and Ted.
Be careful what you wish for.
Isn’t that what everyone always said? Jordan always thought it was a stupid saying until he came face to face with the one woman who had succeeded in throwing him off his game. Hell, she did far more than that. Effie’s presence sent his senses reeling. She made his head spin. Her scent filled up the bus though he was pretty sure she didn’t wear perfume. Her presence was like a light in a dark tunnel. He couldn’t explain how she seemed to fill up every nook and cranny of the bus. And
his life.
She invaded his mind, his waking and sleeping moments, took up his thoughts in a way that she shouldn’t. It was completely irrational, given that they barely knew each other.
He’d never felt instantly drawn to another person. He’d never been comfortable, not really, with anyone else other than his grandfather. There was something magnetic about Effie, something that he couldn’t explain or understand, no matter how hard he tried.
Thinking about his grandfather made him infinitely sad. He knew the time was drawing close, and what was he doing? Getting up on stages, selling people a line that he didn’t even fully believe in himself. He wasn’t doing it for the money or even the fame. He didn’t need the recognition. He didn’t need to prove himself to anyone, or at least he told himself he didn’t. No, the shows weren’t about that. They were about escape. Escape from the small-minded town he’d never been able to leave.
It was about his grandpa’s last instruction: find yourself. He was the only person in the world who guessed that Jordan hadn’t done that, especially after reading his books.
Somewhere en route, in the early morning hours, the grey light of dawn sneaking through the shitty blinds in his room, Effie tucked into the bunk just outside the door, he got the text that he’d been dreading.
His grandfather had passed in his sleep, painlessly. It was over.
CHAPTER 9
Effie
A violent crash woke Effie from a deep sleep. She was wrapped in her bunk in layers of sheets and blankets. When she started awake, her first instinct was to sit upright. She cracked her head on the top bunk pretty damn fast and lowered herself down, a little dazed and hazy from the pounding spot on her forehead.
What the hell was that noise? She could tell it was early. Grey light of early dawn flashed through the window she could see when she craned out of her bunk. She tucked herself back quickly before she could fall out and damage something else. As it was, she was probably going to have a massive welt for makeup to cover up. She could apply the thick stuff on her own, but actually using it for a purpose- that was probably beyond her skills.