Blue, Light and Dark (Chubby Chasers, Inc. Series Book 2)

by Brashears, Angie M.

  I suck in a breath. He’s breathtaking. Tanned, toned, tattooed. I take in the scenery. My eyes skim his chest. Just a quick peek. But I’m drawn to him. He walks to a linen closet in the hall and pulls out a handful of Budweiser beach towels. When he returns, he uses his boot and pushes the towels around to mop up the drops of water on the weathered hardwood floor. It’s rude, I know, but I can’t stop staring at him.

  “Is that…?” I tilt my head to get a better view of his bare chest.

  He looks up at my question and sees me staring, follows my eyes, and looks down at his stomach to see what he’s missing.

  “You didn’t!” I shove his shoulders back so I can see his chest. He chuckles, but stands tall, letting me look my fill. There, above his heart, written in beautiful swirls is Blue. It’s beautiful. The feminine script almost looks out of place on his muscled chest. Tied in an extravagant bow, to the tail of the E is a dainty pink ribbon. Dangling from the end of the ribbon is a realistic-looking silver bell.

  Without even realizing it, I step closer and feel the need to touch it. My finger traces the writing. “Blue Belle,” I whisper, awed to see my name seared into his flesh. It’s beautiful, elegant, and insane.

  I look up into his face, perplexed. It’s been there long enough to heal.

  He grins down at me. “I told you I was going to do it, and I’m a man of my word. Hit the tattoo parlor the morning after I met you.” He strokes my cheek with whisper touches while he talks.

  I shake my head, my eyes never leaving the tattoo. When I finally look into his eyes and see the kindness there, I give him a shy smile. “It’s beautiful, but…” Crazy? Psycho? But I hold my tongue.

  “I know. It had to be. I told my guy to make it unforgettable, like the lady it belongs to.”

  Sweeping me into his arms, he holds my head to his chest. My cheek pressed over his heart, rubbing against my name. My stomach feels like an elevator ride without brakes. I feel like I’m flying blind, driving without a steering wheel, galloping without a horse. This is a man I could lose my heart to. He talks into my hair. “Even if this is the only chance I get you to myself, I wanted a reminder of you with me always,” he murmurs before kissing the top of my head and pulling away.

  I hug myself, attempting to fill the aching sadness that’s created by the absence of his strong arms around me. I don’t know whether to feel impressed or offended by his chivalrous attitude as he pulls a Red Sox sweatshirt from a laundry basket, which sits on a wicker chair, and stretches into it. He grabs a set of keys from a hook by the door and turns to me, his brow arched. “Ready?”

  I nod, though I’m not sure if I really am.

  We drive through the dark foothills, each lost in our own thoughts. There’s no talking, just peaceful silence. At one point, he points to the radio, but I just shake my head. He understands without needing words.

  When we hit the onramp for the freeway that will take me back to the Chubby Chasers apartment, I yawn. “I’m so comfortable, I could fall asleep.”

  “I know. Me, too,” he says, making me laugh. I stroke his arm. “I’ll keep you awake.”

  There’s so much about him I don’t know. “What made you come to California? Are you from here?” I turn my head toward him, and without even thinking how it’s going to sound, he says, “A palm reader said I’d find my true love here.” His eyes stay on the road, but mine widen.

  “A palm reader?” Is that even a real thing?

  He nods but doesn’t elaborate.

  I frown. I’m sort of glad I didn’t know about the tattoo and the palm reader before I decided to go to his house. “So…you believe in that stuff?” I say, not sure I wanna know the answer.

  “I do, with my whole heart.” He grins at me, and I’m not sure I believe him, but that doesn’t stop me from smiling back.

  “Superstition is what has kept me whole my entire life. I’ve never stepped on a crack, never broke a mirror, never walked beneath a ladder, and always swam on an empty stomach.” He winks at me. “Why not, right?”

  I nod, thinking about everything he’s said. “You’re not a warlock, are you?”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “No, Blue. No special powers. I’m just a normal guy from Boston. That’s where my whole family lives. I walked into a carnival tent one night, blasted on pot and who knows what else…that was before vet school. I had no ambition, no purpose in life other than catching the fiercest buzz I could on a daily basis.

  “So I stumble in, thinking I’m heading into the bathroom. I knock over candles and statues. Thinking back, I’m surprised I wasn’t thrown out, but the crystal gazer must have seen something missing in me because she pulled me to a round, scarf-covered table and pushed me into a rickety folding chair.

  “Before I could even clear the fog in my mind to protest, she sat across from me and grabbed my hand.” He holds up his right hand, palm to me. I inspect it—looking for the woman’s fingerprints or potions, I don’t know—but I see nothing. He continues. “She dripped some candle wax from a lit candle in the middle of my palm. I remember bracing for the burn of it, but, Blue, it was cold.” A meaningful look from him makes me shiver. “That’s how I felt,” he says.

  “Frankie, you better not be fucking with me because this is the best story I ever heard.”

  He snorts. “You haven’t heard the best part. She peeled the wax right off my palm—it was about the size of a dime—and popped it into her mouth, chewing on it with her eyes closed.”

  “What?” I ask, just a little grossed out.

  He nods. “And swallowed it.” He’s nodding as he says it. I smack his non-driving arm. “You are fucking with me!” I laugh, but he’s serious as a judge. He holds his hand. “On a stack of Bibles, I swear, your Honor.” I laugh harder at his words. But his face doesn’t change, and I realize he’s telling the truth.

  I’m intrigued. “So then what did the wax-eating fortune teller do?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he says with a serious smile. “She spit across the room. I didn’t see it leave her lips, but it must have been a real lunger. It sailed clear across the tent where it hit a brass spittoon. I still can hear the loud ping! it made when it hit.

  She spoke in a haunting voice. ‘Your journey has yet to start, but has to start now. Pack one bag, take nothing else of this life with you, and travel to Connecticut. You need to learn the healing path that’s been laid out for you. There’s a school there that’s just had an opening, and it’s got your name in its books. Commune with the animals, heal their broken hearts, and if you work hard, you’ll find your true love in California.”

  He nods, an earnest look on his face. There’s no deceit there. “I was in Connecticut the very next day.”

  I blow out a breath. “Whew, what a story, Frankie.” I lean back in my seat, taking his words in.

  “And it’s all true,” he says as he takes the exit that will bring us to my temporary home.

  “What’s your last name, Frankie?”

  “Duchene. I’m a good Irish Catholic boy.” He grins, and I feel my heart stretch.

  “Blue, can I see you again? Maybe catch that movie?”

  I nod, hating the hole I’m digging myself into.

  Javi

  That feeling’s back again. The maddening itch behind my eyeballs, the painful twist in my chest. It’s been stronger since I got off the phone with Blue. It’s a panic beast, running rampant through my body, demanding that I take action now. I’ve been good, hit my group therapy and my personal brain-picking session, so it’s not the need to flee that has my back up. I search inward, looking for the reason that I’m so on edge. Beautiful blue eyes and smiling red lips float behind my eyelids. Blue. I’m losing her.

  Blue

  Because I’m too amped up and can’t sleep when I get home, I call Bradley. Dr. Timlan knew what she was doing with her homework assignment for me to find a friend outside of Chubby Chasers. I give him the deets.

  “He’s gay,” he
says, rather dismissively, after hearing about our magical first date.

  I roll my eyes. “No he’s not, you dick.”

  “Gay, gay, gay. Toss him my way.”

  “Ugh, stop. He’s not, I promise you.”

  “No, bitch. I promise you…gay!”

  I snort. “Methinks you might be the gay one.”

  He just laughs. “Must I explain myself…again? Not gay, just up for whatever, Blue. And speaking of whatever, bring your tuna can over here. Lemme get a whiff, make sure you didn’t turn him off with an extra fishy smell tonight.”

  “Perv,” I say, laughing, before hanging up on this crazy movie star.

  I tap my nails on the table, restless. I can’t help it. I call Sasha. “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “It’s one in the morning. What do you think I’m doing? Eating.” Crazy.

  I laugh, “You have a sec?”

  She burps right in my ear. “Sure, what’s up, Blue? How was Frankie?”

  “Too good. That’s the problem.” Her chewing is distracting me. “And back away from the Doritos. Your noshing directly in my ear is driving me nuts.” I hear the bag crinkle as she puts it to the side.

  “Expand please. I’m not seeing how having a good time is a problem.”

  “Really? You don’t see the problem?” It’s late, and I’m good and wound up.

  “Oh,” she says as it clicks.

  “Yeah,” I say back.

  “Javi,” we both say at the same time.

  She’s quiet for just a moment. “Well, it’s not like you two are married or anything. You’ve been apart from each other more than you’ve been together. Are you guys even together?”

  Deciding to avoid the question, I launch into a colorful recounting of my night with Frankie. From his way with a gun to his way with me, I cover it all.

  She blows out a breath. “Yeah, Riley said he’s one of the good ones. The best, actually. Listen, you don’t belong to anyone. Get that out of your head. No one has copyright on Blue Belle. You are your own woman. Do what feels right to you, Blue. Besides, Javi should have kept his shit together and none of this would have happened,” she grouses.

  I don’t answer, but I’ve been thinking the same thing about Javi lately. Why couldn’t he get his shit together? Why does he need a lock and guards between us for me to feel safe? The edges of anger start to flare around my heart, at him, the situation, just everything. The emotion is foreign to me, feels like a too-tight bra. I don’t usually get mad, I just eat.

  “Okay, bitch. Sleep on it. Just don’t go running away and marrying anyone tonight. Do like Gretch and I do. Play the field. Spread the wealth around.” I hear the crinkle of the Doritos bag as she hangs up.

  I don’t know what to do with this seed that’s starting to bloom in my chest. Sasha’s right. He should have kept his shit together. I can’t sleep—too much sugar, Frankie, just too much. I head into Sam’s room, the spare bedroom, plug my headphones in, blast some Rihanna—We found love in a hopeless place—and walk my frustrations out on the treadmill.

  Damn you, Dr. Timlan! She knew exactly what she was doing. Freedom of choice can be a curse.

  When I finally feel like I can sleep, I lie down on my bed and notice I’ve got a text. From Frankie. Attached are a few of the selfies he shot. I don’t even recognize myself. I’m glowing.

  Here’s the proof you needed. Blue, can’t stop thinking about tonight. You make me smile, Darling, and think of all kinds of possibilities when I’m with you. Taking my boat out tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. I’m at Slip 16 in the Laguna Harbor. I’ll wait for you. Please come have some fun with me and the pack. Bring a suit. Yours –Frankie

  He’s attached a Google map complete with driving directions.

  Frankie

  I don’t know why I didn’t tell Blue the whole story. The gypsy lady, real. All true. But I omitted the part where I saw her in my vision. Too heavy for a first date, but it still nags at me. Maybe I should have warned her. She thinks I’m a loon anyway; would any more tarnish have come to my character if I’d shared the foreboding tidbit?

  As I got up to leave, the palm reader grabbed my palm one more time. And planted a kiss right where the wax had been. As soon as her papery lips touched me, time and my heart both stopped. I didn’t know who she was at the time, but in the vision that seeped into my brain, there she was, Blue Belle.

  Dirty, disheveled, spread out…naked. But seeing her in this state did nothing for my libido. This wasn’t about sex; it was about control.

  She lay broken, sobbing, with snot dripping off her upper lip. I realized she was tied and had no way to get free.

  “Save her…save yourself.” The palm reader’s dark whisper seemed to come from within me. I opened my eyes, and the vision disappeared. Along with the palm reader, her candles, incense, hell, even her tent…all gone. Where a carnival had been, rocking in full swing, now only grass remained. It was as if it had never been. I stood alone and buzzed, tears streaming down my face in an open field, staring up into a starless sky, already making the necessary plans in my head that would bring me to her.

  Dear reader, continue at your own risk. If you wanna stay in the light, with the unicorns, click the HEA, and your world will continue to turn on its axis, with you none the wiser…

  …but if you’re like me, and want a little pain with your story, follow me into the shadows, march forward, and click the DEA, and I’ll meet you on the other side…if you make it.

  Dark Ever After (DEA)

  Happily Ever After (HEA)

  DEA - DARK EVER AFTER

  Blue

  Sorry you couldn’t make the boat trip. The dogs got tired of waiting after two hours. Maybe next time. ☹ Frankie

  I think about that text a lot. Probably more than I should. I did bring it up in therapy. The Doc knew something was on my mind anyway. That’s the problem with headshrinkers; you get one little idea in your head, your mind expands with the possibilities of it, just so they can burst your bubble. While running through an association exercise in the office, my mind was in the middle of expanding, going as far as wondering if I should call Frankie. So sue me. I wasn’t listening. My mind was on Ferris wheel rides and motorcycles.

  “What is it, Sara?” Dr. Timlan asks, exasperated. “I’ve asked you the same question three times.” She blows a piece of sandy-brown hair out of her eyes and frowns at me. The harsh tone catches my attention. I look up and figure who better to talk to than my fifty-dollar-an-hour therapist.

  “It’s just…” I begin, and I don’t know where I’m going with it, then start again. “Remember the date assignment last week?”

  She nods. I do, too. Good.

  “It was more than just a few laughs at a carnival with a friend. It continued on to his house.” Her eyebrows go up. I raise both hands to stop her dirty thoughts. “And no, it didn’t go further than the living room. It was cold out. We went to his house to get his Jeep, and I met his dogs. Did I tell you he’s almost finished with vet school?” She shakes her head, studying me. “We had a kind of connection. Oh! He also had my name tattooed on his chest, right over his heart. So there’s that.”

  Her eyes widen. “A real tattoo?” she asks, incredulous.

  I nod. “A real, honest-to-goodness tattoo. See, I’d met him once before. The day Javi said he didn’t want to see me anymore. Or rather his therapist said that he didn’t want to see me anymore. I was so wrung out emotionally that Sasha arranged a night out, a ‘man’s-an-ass party.’ We met up with her man, Riley, at the Handlebar. You know, the biker bar?” She thinks a minute and shrugs. I guess it’s not her kind of place.

  I continue. “She’d called ahead, arranged everything, and he brought a pack of hot bikers with him. Frankie—the boy toy—zeroed in on me, made sure I had a good time. It was obvious he took a liking to me. During a drunk confession session, he said something about getting my name tattooed over his heart. I laughed, thinking it was playful banter and then didn’t think any
more about it.

  “But not two weeks later, I call him for my date. He shows up, we have a great time, head to his house, and he trips and gets all wet—”

  “Was that planned? Him getting all wet?” she interrupts.

  I think for a second before shaking my head. “No way. He almost broke his neck to avoid stepping on his blind dog. The water was a total accident. Anyway, he pulls his wet shirt off…and I see it. My name on his chest. It’s not like he got the call from me and hit the tattoo shop. It was healed! The real hinky part? The part that keeps bugging me? He didn’t show me. I had to see it, myself. And when I asked about it, he just explained that he was a man of his word…that’s weird, right?”

  Dr. Timlan leans forward, hands on the desk. “I don’t need to answer that for you, Sara. You already know the answer to your own question. A guy you spent a few hours with goes out and gets your name tattooed on his chest, not even knowing if he’s ever going to see you again. Then, when he does get the chance to see you, it’s not the first or even the second thing he talks about. In fact, if the water was never spilt, you might have never known about that tattoo, right?”

  I frown, “Well, when you say it like that—”

  Dr. Timlan holds up both hands. “Not me, Sara, you. I just repeated back to you what you told me. What is it about this encounter that has you so distracted?”

  I’ve been over it in my mind so many times, I don’t even have to think about the answer. “Well, he asked me to go out on a boat trip with him the next day. Him…and his dogs.” I smile at the memory of the ragtag pack. “Gave me directions to the boat slip and everything. The crazy part is, I think I wanted to go. He’s easy, you know?”