The attendant looked confused and uncertain. “It’s not something that’s usually done, but under the circumstances, I don’t see why not.”
Cole sat in the front row on the right side of the plane. The one seat next to him was empty. He quickly unbuckled, reached over his head, unlocked the compartment and pulled down his guitar case. Once he removed his guitar, he shut the case back inside the luggage compartment.
When he was buckled back up, he began to play. It felt awkward playing on a plane, and he wondered how many people could actually hear him. He played a soft, soothing ballad he had yet to record. Halfway through the song he became so engrossed in his music he never noticed how hushed the plane had become.
When he strummed the last chord, the passengers clapped and Cole’s heart dropped. He asked if anyone had a request. A young mother several rows to his left, flying with her two young children, requested a hymn.
Fortunately for Cole, his mother had been a Christian, and he’d gone to church regularly growing up. As he played, it all came back to him, including the words, and the young mother sang along with him, surprising him with her lovely voice.
Cole continued to play until the turbulence faded and the seat belt sign blinked off. He replaced his guitar and went to the bathroom at the back of the plane. The one closest to him was reserved for first class passengers only. On his way back, many people thanked him for what he’d done and Cole’s face warmed with each and every compliment.
The young woman, who had sung with him, hugged him, and he found out she sang with a famous choir. She introduced herself as Katie Devers, and she didn’t bat an eyelash when he introduced himself as Cole Jackson.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jackson. I love your music. And thank you. My children were truly frightened and your playing helped calm them immensely.”
Cole smiled at her. “I think it was their mother’s voice doing the calming. You have the voice of an angel. If you ever care to work with me, please give me a call.”
She seemed embarrassed and surprised by his offer.
“Thank you. God bless you for what you did for everyone on this plane.”
He shrugged his shoulders because to him it was no big deal. He did what he could do to help. Anyone else would have done the same in his place.
Later that evening, Cole sat on his back deck while the sun set over the water. Every shade of yellow, orange and red imaginable radiated in the sky, not to mention the pinks mixed in as well. No wonder people lived at the ocean. The serenity of it was incredible.
After he downed his soda he strolled back inside. His internal clock ran on east coast time and exhaustion crept up on him fast. He had a meeting first thing in the morning with his parole officer. He’d been summoned to meet with him, and Cole suppressed worry over why as it hadn’t been a month yet. Depending on the outcome of his meeting, he had a plane to catch to Chicago. But now it was off to his large empty bed alone.
***
“No,” AJ yelled as he was thrown awake from his nightmare. He sprinted into the bathroom and puked up his dinner. It’s not possible? No way? He couldn’t have? Never would have? His legs gave way, and his body crumpled to the unforgiving cold, hard tiled floor. The painful pounding of his heart beat against his chest. Everything appeared hopeless as he realized the implications of his dream. Was it a dream or was it reality?
He curled up into a fetal position, his body raked uncontrollably with pain, sorrow and shame.
What had he done?
Lindsey?
Cole?
God help him. What had he done?
Why after all these years were the events of that night returning to him?
The reasons were Cole’s return to the world of the free and Ward trying to suck up to them for his past mistakes. AJ always had a niggling feeling Ward had a thing for Lindsey. Had they engaged in an affair? Lindsey admitted to seeing others besides him. Was it Ward? It made sense since Ward had been reminiscing about earlier times when she lived. He’d also stated he’d seen him and her together the night she died. It was true, they’d been together, but not in a sexual way. They’d had their first real fight, and over something ridiculous. But AJ would swear his life on a Bible she lived and breathed when he’d left the hotel room.
So if it wasn’t him or Cole who committed murder? Thinking about it made him even more nauseated. Perhaps his memory and mind played tricks on him?
***
Cole swore as he reached around in the dark for his cell phone. What the hell time was it, and who the hell would call him at this hour? He found his phone just as it stopped playing the obnoxious ring he had it set on. After turning on the light and wincing at the time on the digital clock, Cole scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to wake-up. Then he glanced at his phone and the missed call from AJ. Why would he call at this hour? Hell, it was even later in Chicago or earlier depending on how you looked at it. He called him back and waited two rings before AJ picked up.
“Hello.”
“AJ, its Cole. Did you just call me?”
He heard AJ clear his throat. “Aye, ah..um...had this really weird dream about Lindsey, and ah didn’t know who else tae call.”
Cole heard something in his tone of voice that made him wake-up and pay more attention. “Okay, you want to tell me about it?”
“No, not really, it just freaked me out at the time. Forget about it. Go back tae sleep.”
Before Cole had a chance to reply, AJ disconnected the phone. That was, without a doubt, the strangest phone conversation he’d ever had with AJ.
He headed into the bathroom to relieve himself and then climbed back in bed. Wide-awake now, Cole reached for the television remote and turned it to HBO. He finally dosed off only to be woken up a short time later, his heart pounding, his body drenched in sweat as he sat up and hugged his knees to his chest.
Damn, he thought he’d finally broken free from his nightmares. Shit. This nightmare didn’t relive his prison life. It was about Lindsey and AJ, and the trial. It must have been the call from AJ that triggered his mind to conjure up images of Lindsey in his sleep.
Christ, would he ever lead a normal life?
He doubted it.
He swung his legs off the bed and resigned himself to hitting the shower. Sleep would not revisit him tonight.
To soothe his frayed nerves, he let the hot water pelt his face as he thought of Shannon. He could picture her perfectly in his mind’s eye. How she looked the first time they met. How her eyes glazed over when she came for him and the love that shone from her cobalt eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking. Which was very rarely when they were together as he had trouble keeping his eyes off her.
Then his heart clenched as he remembered what she’d looked like the last time they’d been together. He saw her tears in her defeated eyes, skin as pale as the moon and her body trembling as though it were below zero in temperature. He pounded his fist into the shower wall. Lucky for Cole, it was fiberglass and not tile. Fiberglass had give, but he still flexed his fist open and closed. Fiberglass or no fiberglass, it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.
Cole honestly didn’t know how much longer he could go on without Shannon? She had become his other half and he needed her, wanted her and craved her. He wanted her more than ever and continually had trouble concentrating on his concert tour as his thoughts drifted to her. He had finally found the love of his life and wouldn’t you know it, the relationship was doomed just as it had begun. He was cursed. No doubt about it. There was no other explanation. His whole life had been cursed.
Chapter Fourteen
Cameron sat staring out the bus window at all the miles and miles of farmland as cornfields flanked both sides of the road for what seemed liked forever. Would he ever come out the other side of the maze of green, yellow and brown that defined the state of Kansas in his eyes.
Today, he didn’t feel well. His stomach protested something he’d eaten. He’d already used the bus’s closet sized
bathroom three times during the past hour, and he needed to use it again. He was doubled over with unbelievable cramps that stole his breath away, causing him to take short, shallow breaths. He prayed the pain would subside, and he’d make it to the toilet in time because he couldn’t get up just yet as another wave of excruciating pain hit him.
He tried hard not to groan out too loudly as the pain seized his stomach, but he knew he did as this girl several rows in front of him kept looking back his way. And by the look on her face he knew he wasn’t successful in being quiet. How embarrassing.
The pain suddenly eased and he ran into the john, pulling his pants down just in time as whatever caused him to be sick left his body. God, would it ever stop?
Weak and shaky, Cameron washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face, hoping to stop the spinning in his head. As he stumbled back to his spot, he used the backs of the tall seats to keep him upright. After collapsing into his, he hugged himself, fighting the dizziness and sweat and chills plaguing him. He’d never felt this bad before. His stomach seemed to have turned inside out and his ass hurt something fierce. If he had to crap one more time, he didn’t think he’d survive.
“Excuse me.” He looked up to see the girl standing beside him in the aisle. She cleared her throat and seemed somewhat hesitant and nervous and then she asked, “Are you feeling ill?”
Cameron looked her over with as much intensity as a sick as a dog sixteen-year-old could. She was maybe a year or two older than him, petite and dressed as a Goth. She was pretty, but all her eyebrow piercings and nose rings took away from it. Cameron never did care much for body piercing, except maybe the belly button. She wasn’t rail thin, nor heavy, but she was stacked.
“Yeah I am,” he groaned out, clutching his stomach as the cramps hit him again. Not now Jesus, not now.
She held out a bottle of pink stuff, causing Cameron to smile. The pink stuff his father lived on. But he hesitated, looking at her speculatively.
“It’s not open.” She held it closer. “Take it. You’ll feel better.” Her face broke out into a warm smile, and Cameron knew he could trust her. Reaching out, he took the bottle from her, read the directions, fumbled to open the children’s safety cap and poured the desired amount into the measuring cup.
“Thanks.” He went to hand it back, willing his hands to be steady.
She shook her head, causing her jet black hair to sway. “You’re going to need it.” Then she left him and went back to her seat. Cameron smiled as he lay down as best he could on the bus seat and prayed for sleep.
Maybe if he slept for a while, he’d wake up feeling normal. He hated being sick, and if he wanted to be truthful with himself, he wanted his mom or Cheryl, or even his dad when he felt like this. Someone had always been there for him when he was sick, which wasn’t often, but still, someone was always there to make him comfortable. Make him soup, check his temperature and watch a movie or play video games with him. You name it, they’d done it for him.
He rolled onto his side, curling into a ball, and felt the first tears dampen his face. He swiped them away in disgust. Damn, he wished he’d brought his cell phone with him so he could call one of his friends. Running away seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, he was lonely, sick and tired. Sleep. He needed sleep and then, when he felt better, he’d make friends with Goth Girl.
When he finally woke-up and wiped the sleep from his eyes, he noticed the bus sat motionless, parked in a rest area and the sun crept low on the horizon. By his best estimate, he’d slept for about four hours. The cramps in his stomach had subsided for now, but it still felt odd. He didn’t know whether to risk food or just get a soda. He’d play it safe and get off the bus and buy a Coke. But as he gathered his stuff together the driver and several passengers returned. Damn, it was too late. He’d have to wait for the next stop.
Goth Girl approached him carrying a plastic convenient store bag. She hesitated, smiled shyly, and then kept on approaching.
“You’re alive,” she said quietly.
“Hmm, barely,” he replied.”
She gestured to the seat beside him. “Can I sit?”
Surprised, Cameron replied, “Sure.” He scooted over to the window seat and moved his belongings to the floor to make room for her.
“Is that your guitar?” she asked, pointing to the case on the aisle seat opposite him.
“Yeah,” he answered.”
Her eyes widened and he noticed she had pretty deep blue eyes. “Do you play?”
Cameron rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling better. Was she for real? “No. I just lug it around with me for the hell of it.” He regretted his sarcastic tone immediately because she blushed and looked embarrassed.
“Oh, I mean. I figured you played, but you know, some people play, and some people really play.”
“Uh huh, well I’m one of those who really play.”
Her eyes lit up and she glanced up the aisle. “Do you think anyone would mind if you played now?”
Cameron shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I could start, and if someone complains I’ll stop.”
She removed his guitar from the case and whistled. “Nice guitar—top quality.”
“Yeah.” Cameron tilted his head. “How do you know?”
She handed over the instrument. “My old boyfriend’s in a band. I used to sing for them.”
“Cool.”
She blushed. “Yeah, well, no big deal. They aren’t very good, neither am I.”
Cameron began playing. His hands were unsteady from being sick, but the more he played the steadier they became. He glanced up now and again at Goth Girl who sat, smiling and moving in her seat to the rhythm
He began to sing, softly so not everyone could hear, and he became lost in his music. It became his world. So tuned into his music he forgot where he was, who he was with and where he was going and why. His music turned all encompassing. He became one with his guitar, nothing else mattered but the sound emanating from him. And he truly had no idea how beautiful it sounded to those around him.
After playing nonstop for about thirty minutes, he paused and looked at Goth Girl, who just stared in awe.
“What?”
She shook her head. “Shit, you’re good, better than good.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah well, I told you I could play. And if you think I sound good on an acoustic guitar you should hear me on an electric one.”
“I know you told me you could play, but shit man, you can really play.” Her eyes widened again with awe and he felt a strange sensation in his gut. She reached down for her bag. “Oh...I forgot. I bought you crackers and a soda for your stomach.”
Cameron’s heart lurched at her thoughtfulness. She may dress odd, and look odd, but she seemed really nice. He took the food from her. “Thanks. How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing, besides you can buy me something at our next stop.”
He smiled at her and again felt his insides do something weird, and it had nothing to do with having been sick. “Sure.” After he polished off the crackers and downed the whole can of soda, he suddenly realized he couldn’t exactly call her Goth Girl to her face.
“I’m Cameron.” He put out his hand, waiting for her to take it.
She paused then smiled and damn she looked pretty. “I’m Amber.”
Cameron suddenly felt his face heat up as he realized he still held her small, warm hand. He let it go.
“Are you going to LA too?” she asked as she twirled a lock of her obviously dyed black hair that shined blonde at the roots.
“Yeah,” he replied a little hesitant.
“Why?”
“Is this the Spanish Inquisition?”
She laughed. “No, the Amber Inquisition. Obviously, you seem like a rich kid so if you’re traveling somewhere you’d fly. Are you running away?”
He glanced at her, his guard suddenly up. “So what if I am?”
“Don’t be mad.” She paused and bit h
er lower lip. “I thought we could travel together and be friends.”
Cameron regretted snapping at her. “I’m sorry. And you’re right. I did take off.” He shook his head, took a deep breath and expelled it. “My dad’s a cop, he doesn’t understand me.”
She snorted. “That’s tough. My dad’s a lawyer.”
Cameron snapped his head toward her. “No way.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ya way. My mom died last year and since then he’s buried himself in his work. I thought…” She gestured toward her hair and face piercing. “If I drastically changed myself, he’d notice me.” She hugged herself and her voice quivered. “He didn’t.”
“I’m sorry.” Cameron’s throat scorched as he fought back his own tears while Amber’s silently travelled down her pretty face. “My parents are divorced. My mom’s a writer and my Dad remarried and he and his wife Cheryl are expecting baby number four. Sometimes I feel like an intruder in their house. My dad has this whole other family, whole other life. I feel like I’m only there because my mom travels a lot, and there’s nowhere else for me to go.”
Amber reached for his hand and held it. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen. And you?”
“Seventeen last July. I’m a senior this year.”
“Junior,” he added.
“Where’re you from?”
Cameron liked the feel of her hand in his. He moved and entwined her warm fingers together with his. “Massachusetts and you?”
“Newport, Rhode Island.”
“Why are you going to LA?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed like a good destination. I’ve never seen the west coast and thought I’d like to.” She studied him with her deep blue eyes. “What about you?”
“I’m looking for someone.”
She tilted her head and her eyes sparkled with interest. “Who?”
Cameron laughed and shook his head. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Try me?”
“Cole Jackson,” he said with a resigned sigh.
“The Cole Jackson,” Amber said, her voice raising several octaves, “from BlackJack ?”
BlackJack (A Standish Bay Romance Book 1) Page 17