Zenith Rising (Zenith Trilogy, #2)

by Leanne Davis

  He poured some coffee, and picked up an old newspaper off the counter, browsing through the piles of crap he found spread around it.

  There were messy piles of information Erica must have downloaded from the internet. Piano playing, job careers, band auditions, even pamphlets on musical programs at the local community college. The hairs on the nape of his neck bristled, and shot a physical jolt through his head. He crumpled up one of the white pages in his fist.

  Erica stumbled into the kitchen with her hair all mussed up, and her eyes looking sleepy. She smiled as she poured coffee, and noticed what he was looking at. She didn’t cringe, or look worried, or even seem to care in the slightest that he found the piles of literature on her counter.

  “What is this?” he finally asked.

  Her eyes narrowed on his face at hearing his tone.

  She shrugged, leaning her hip into the counter, and took a sip of coffee. “Some information I found; nothing too specific, just some interesting stuff about the music industry.”

  “This is about me obviously. Why? Why do you have all this shit about music?”

  She stiffened. “No real reason. Ideas, I guess. Keeping up on the latest information gives you more choices, and ideas. Maybe somewhere in there is an opportunity with your name on it.”

  He stood up. “For me to what? Go to college? Get educated so I’m good enough for you? Tell me, Erica, how does one get into college if he never even finished high school?”

  “I suppose, just get a GED.”

  He turned his back to her and paced. “Is that what I need to fuck you? A GED? A good enough job. College? You think you’re going to groom the poor, stupid, loser kid you’re screwing into someone good enough for you to date? Turn me into the next Nick Lassiter or Roy Bennett?”

  Erica calmly set her coffee cup down beside her, and straightened her body with annoyance. “No, thank you. Nick Lassiter, and Roy Bennett both fell in love with other women while they were with me. No, Spencer, what I was doing was gathering harmless information for a man who hates his job. And his position in life. For a man who thinks he’s not good enough to go out with me. I know how you feel when you look at me, and my career. You show respect for it and me, but you also hate it. You wish I wasn’t quite so rich, quite so old, and quite so successful! It would be so much easier for you to handle being with me if I were a lousy waitress somewhere, or a convenience store cashier. Admit it, Spencer; that would stroke your ego. Make you feel okay about yourself. You take my success personally. I’m not stupid. I see how it riles your male ego and all your confidence.”

  She paused, with her eyes blazing as she spoke softer. “The stupid part is, if I were the man, and the doctor in this relationship, it would be naturally accepted and even considered wonderful. Quite a catch for a little woman who hasn’t figured out her career! That would be okay though, wouldn’t it? But since I’m older, with a successful career, and a woman, it somehow reflects poorly on you, doesn’t it?”

  He stopped pacing and stared at her, looking dumbfounded. She continued, “So what I was actually doing, Spencer, was accumulating some innocuous information for you. You can read it, or burn it. I really don’t care. I wasn’t trying to fix you or improve your status. All I wanted to do was make you feel better about yourself.”

  She pushed away from the counter and stormed past him. He stuck a hand out, and grabbed her upper elbow as she passed. “Wait. Just wait.”

  She stopped and looked at him. “Why? You already know how I feel about you. But I’m not willing to be less, not even for you. I can’t help what I am, or what you are. I don’t care if it changes or remains the same. You do. But I refuse to feel guilty about it anymore.”

  “I never said you should feel guilty.”

  “You say it every time you sneer about what you are and what I am.”

  He sighed. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about it. But it’s hard to look in the mirror when I’m with you and feel like a man. It didn’t matter before you because there was only Rob to judge me. Suddenly, now there is you. There are people looking at me, and wondering why you would choose to be with me. Since I can’t even understand why you’re with me, how can anyone else?”

  “The problem is you’re afraid to go for something more, and you get angry at me for suggesting that. But you won’t even try. Either give music up completely, and find a job doing something else; or follow your dreams, and exploit your talent. Give Zenith another chance. Try different things. If one doesn’t work, try another. That’s all the information I collected: things you could try if you chose to. What I care about is how unhappy you become, and how nasty you act to me.”

  Spencer wondered how she saw everything so crystal clear, so correctly, and still tolerated him. She was right about everything. Yet he couldn’t muster up the will, or the energy, or the faith that if he worked really hard, good things would follow. He couldn’t find the motivation to try anything different. Anything better. Enthusiasm was what he lacked in life, and why he floated. All he ever could envision was that he’d end up failing and be humiliated. He’d fail on his own as swiftly as Zenith did. What was the point of even trying?

  Still, he couldn’t give it up, or think of something else he wanted to do. So there he sat, feeling stuck, drowning in self-pity, and useless. Directing his rage at the only person who ever gave him an ounce of credit, and feelings of worth.

  She turned towards him fully and cupped his face in her hands, but he resisted, and looked away until she turned his face and forced him to make eye contact with her. “I know why you think life can only kick you down. That’s all it’s done to you to date. I know that. Really, I do. And we both know exactly why you are the way you are. I don’t care if you do anything more, or different. But I know you want to play music. I see the joy in your eyes every time you even glance at a piano. I know you’re good enough to be great. That’s all you’re seeing here: my undying faith in you.”

  She dropped her hands and he turned and quickly scanned all the papers piled atop her kitchen counter. He finally stretched a hand out, and picked up the first sheet. It was an advertisement for a piano player at a local restaurant called Piano Tunes, that featured piano contests each evening from seven until nine. He flipped that to one side, and grabbed another sheet. It was a music program through a local community college. There were several advertisements seeking a piano teacher.

  He looked back up at Erica. “I’ll take the stuff home and glance through it.”

  She smiled. “Do whatever you want with it.”

  He hesitated before adding, “I might not be too receptive to some things.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Spencer, you are not ‘receptive’ to anything.”

  “Okay. I don’t blindly accept things usually. But thanks, for—” For what? For seeing him as a human being? As a man? As a person with more than an ounce of worth? For loving him? “For everything.”

  “Consider it payback for all the help you gave me after I was attacked. For that pamphlet. You’ve done a lot for me too, Spencer. That’s the part you don’t see. You give a lot to me too.”

  He knew that wasn’t true, but since she wanted to believe it and believe in him, it was hard for him to ignore her. Or totally discredit her. How should he have reacted to a woman with a doctorate, who seemed to think it was okay he didn’t even earn a high school diploma?

  “I have to go.”

  Erica jerked back. “Because of the crap I found?”

  “No. Because I’ve got half an hour to get to church.”

  “Church? I had no idea you went.”

  “Thought I’d give Preacher Don a visit.”

  “What for?”

  “I don’t know exactly. But after his last visit, I decided to keep a better eye on him and Tamira.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Too bad. I do. Don’t look so worried. I’m not going to physically attack him this time. I’m
going to sit in the audience and just watch the show. Check out who else is watching the show. Nothing more. Just an objective observer. And no, you can’t go. I don’t want you anywhere near Preacher Don.”

  “Just promise me that’s all you’ll do.”

  “I promise.”

  ****

  After spending a long hour of listening to the warnings of fire and brimstone from Preacher Don, and the Hallelujahs and Amens of his avid audience, Spencer was glad to finally get outside and find peace and quiet. He was disappointed that Tamira was not in attendance.

  He couldn’t figure out who would be so intent on going after Erica. Who could possibly wish her harm? She was the most selfless, kind, patient person Spencer had ever known, and without being annoying or condescending. What could anyone see that was so hateful about her? Perhaps someone was jealous of her. That was the only motivation Spencer could find, and the only person who fitted into that theory was Tamira. But like Erica, he also couldn’t believe Tamira intended to physically harm her.

  Later, he seriously perused all the stuff Erica collected for him. He read through a lot of it and considered it good research. There were myriad ways to pursue a career in music, often with no common path, like the training a doctor must have. Erica, as usual, gathered intelligent and useful information. Rob walked in as he continued reading.

  “What’s all that?”

  “Just some crap Erica found.”

  Rob picked up one of the sheets and read it. He nodded. “That’s good. You should go for it, or something… anything.”

  “What about you?”

  Rob sighed as he grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water. “What about me? Spence, forget about me. Go for it. I told you, I already blew my chances. You didn’t. I’m too scared to return to music, or become a lead singer again. You’re not. You should do it. Do it, man, for me. For us. For what Zenith could have become.”

  He stared at his best friend in the world, but couldn’t fathom getting on a stage without Rob. Rob had always been his rock, his one solid connection to anyone. Without Rob, he would have been lost to the streets. Or dead. Rob always made sure they were okay, and worked so they could live somewhere, and had food to eat. Rob made Spencer care about living again. Spencer survived and made it out of his teens, thanks to Rob Williams, alone.

  Rob thought the few bad years of alcoholism somehow changed his future in music for him. He thought that somehow Spencer would be better off without him. Never. No way. Barely four years separated them, but when he was thirteen, it could have been twenty years. Rob was the only one who protected and fought for him and believed in his talent. Rob was the only one who helped him when he was a trapped, scared-shitless, little kid.

  At thirteen he was scared of everything, especially the things that had already happened to him. And then he faced what could happen to him. He was terrified living on the streets of being hurt and having no home. But he always had Rob there.

  And now Rob was suggesting that he forget all of that? Forget Rob?

  “I was thinking, we could, you know, get our GEDs.”

  Rob set his glass down and smiled. “Yeah? Might not be the worst idea. Might help us not feel quite so shitty inside. Yeah, sure, why not?”

  “Why not?” Spencer echoed. Why didn’t they ever bother before? Once they got off the streets, why did they never bother? Why did it take someone like Erica to motivate them?

  “Erica got some stuff here for Community College. Can you believe that shit? I’m going to what? Go to school? Community College?”

  Rob studied Spencer. “Why not? Yeah, man, why not do that? Why couldn’t you do that? Your only limitation is never getting the chance to finish school. Your childhood ended at thirteen, you never had another opportunity to go anywhere, or do anything better. Erica is that chance, Spence. Take it.”

  “You don’t even like her,” Spencer grumbled, becoming uncomfortable. He was scared that Rob was right. Erica was his one and only last chance for finding anything of value in his life. For him to become anything decent. But what were the odds that someone like Erica would end up with someone like him in the long haul? Or anything else that would benefit him?

  “Man, I’d marry the girl if she weren’t two inches taller than me.”

  “You’d marry anyone. Never met a dude who could have sex as often as you like, but refuses because you’re not married or engaged to the girl.” Rob didn’t do one-night-stands. He hardly looked at women who did, or came onto him. He was a total freak for exclusive relationships. He loved being married. And mourned the failure of his marriage as much as a death in the family. He still grieved over what he lost with Joelle.

  “Tell me, now that you have someone who cares about you, that it’s not a thousand times better than with any one of those moronic groupies you screwed your way through.”

  “It might be better,” Spencer finally admitted after a long moment.

  “Then make sure you don’t lose her.”

  ****

  Erica was finishing up her day when she heard a knock at her office door. Marge entered. “Hey, there’s a woman here who wants to see you. She says she has something important to discuss with you, but she won’t say what.”

  Erica couldn’t imagine who it could be. “Let her come back. It’s fine.” Erica sat down at her desk and waited a few heartbeats, until there was another knock. The woman crossed over her office threshold, but Erica didn’t recognize the newcomer as anyone she’d ever met before, not even as a former patient.

  Erica stood up as the woman stretched her hand out to shake. She was a tall, handsome woman, as tall as Erica, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a pretty face. She looked to be in her forties, at the most.

  “Are you Dr. Heathersby?”

  “Yes. And you are?”

  “You’re Erica Heathersby?”

  “Yes.” She waved her hand towards the nameplate on the front of her desk.

  “Sorry. I’m nervous, I just didn’t dare to hope I’d actually found the right Erica Heathersby. You’re really a doctor?”

  “Hope so. Do we know each other?”

  The woman flushed. “Oh no. No. excuse me. You must think I’m deranged. My name is Lydia Briggs.”

  Erica sat down, and motioned for Lydia to do the same.

  Lydia was staring at her, taking in her office, her decor, her hair, her stethoscope. Erica wondered what warranted such scrutiny.

  “I’m sorry, did you want to see me about becoming your doctor? Or is there a specific condition you felt was urgent?”

  Lydia’s gaze came back to her face. “Oh no. I don’t need a doctor. I work for a local magazine. I’m a contributing editor of the society pages.”

  Erica frowned. “You’re a reporter? Did you want some kind of interview?”

  “No. Nothing like that. I ran across your name in an article we’re working on. It was for eligible bachelorettes in the Seattle area. You know, an expose on local, professional women who have successfully become outstanding in their chosen fields. However, when we looked into your background and achievements, someone mentioned you weren’t single and that you already had a boyfriend.”

  Erica grimaced. Spencer would love this. “Uh, that’s private, Ms. Briggs, I can tell you right now that I don’t want to be featured in any column, or interviewed for any article unless it’s related specifically to my work.”

  “My reason for coming here is more about the name I ran across as being connected to yours.”

  What the hell? What did this woman want? She visibly swallowed before taking a deep, calming breath, and seemed to Erica on the brink of tears.

  “The name was Spencer Mattox. Do you know him? Spencer?”

  “I’m sorry, I really prefer not to be interviewed, on any personal subjects.”

  “Please, is his name Spencer Martin Mattox?”

  Erica was growing as agitated as Lydia Briggs. “And I’m not going to say anymore to you. Please be so kind now to leave me alo
ne.”

  “I can’t. I just need to know for sure. Please, I’ve searched for a long time.”

  Erica jerked forward. “Why? Why are you searching for this man?”

  Lydia licked her lips. “Because he’s my son.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “You’re Spencer’s mother?”

  “So you do know him! It’s my Spencer. He’s alive! He’s really alive!”

  A stab of guilt filled Erica’s chest. Spencer would have skinned her alive for talking to the very woman who betrayed him so mercilessly, and behind his back. But God, the woman Erica saw before her appeared to be in so much pain, and hearing Spencer was alive seemed like the only thing that could cure her. Erica couldn’t look Lydia in the eyes and play dumb. No matter how much Spencer didn’t want to know or see his mother again, here she was. “He’s alive. He’s fine. Spencer is fine.”

  Lydia closed her eyes for a long moment and tears streamed down her cheeks. She was not like Erica pictured Spencer’s mother to be. Erica envisioned a cold bitch that all but abandoned her helpless son. Not a well dressed, classy-looking woman who could have been Erica’s own mother. Not a woman with fat tears and pain in her eyes, now profoundly relieved to learn her son was still alive.

  “Thank you. Oh God, thank you. I didn’t think after all this time, he’d be alive and well. I can’t believe he was only twenty minutes away from me all these years. Twenty minutes. God, oh my God. I gave up looking for him years ago. I thought he was dead, or in prison, or strung out on drugs. I thought I was too late. And he’s here, and dating you. My God, he’s dating you, a beautiful doctor. Is that really true?”

  “You were looking for him?”

  Lydia opened her eyes, but was still breathing with difficulty. Looking so touched by the good news, Erica didn’t think she was faking it. The woman was practically resurrected at hearing her son was alive and well. This woman loved Spencer. “Yes. Of course. I looked for him for years. He followed a punk who lived next door, Rob, and left home at only age thirteen. One day, they were both just gone. They seemed to just evaporate into thin air. He never let me know he was okay. Or that he was even alive. That Rob Williams somehow convinced him to leave us.”