Daisies & Devin

by Kelsey Kingsley

  “Kylie … shit,” he muttered as his arms circled around me, turning his head to look at Brooke as she rushed towards us. Her hand was on my back, rubbing gently in slow circles.

  “I’m sorry,” I cried.

  “Honey, what happened?”

  I shook my head against Trent’s chest, because where could I even begin? They wouldn’t understand it. They wouldn’t understand the way seeing that joint between his fingers made me want to throw up. They wouldn’t understand that I knew firsthand that sometimes that’s where it all starts. That I could see it happening to him, with how easily he surrendered to it then. They wouldn’t understand my hatred toward Robbie for being everything I despised personified.

  Only Devin understood, and he wasn’t there.

  He was giving himself up in the way I always knew he could, for his music.

  “You want us to call Devin?” Trent asked, reverting to old tricks.

  “No,” I croaked, pushing away from him. I wiped at the tears, stopping them in their tracks. “I’ll be fine. I just had a really rough couple of weeks, and …” I choked, sputtered, and said, “I miss him.”

  “Oh, honey … it’s only been a day,” Brooke said gently, stroking the ends of my hair.

  I nodded, not wanting to get into it yet. Not wanting to talk to them about how a day was going to turn into months, and who knows what would happen after that?

  “Is that all that’s wrong?” Trent asked skeptically. “I mean, I get being sad, but this is kind of, um, extreme.”

  I knew they needed something more, so I added, “Robbie is a fucking dickhead. I guess I just needed to get my frustrations out.”

  It was the truth—not the whole truth, but the truth nonetheless—and they settled for it, with small nods and smaller smiles. They touched my shoulders, gave me hugs and offered to give me a ride home, but I declined. I insisted I could walk and I did, entering the apartment for the first time since I returned to Connecticut.

  Eddie pounced on me, purring enthusiastically with sandpaper kisses slathered over my jaw and cheeks. I managed a smile, grateful that I wasn’t coming home to an empty apartment. Emptiness would’ve been worse. Emptiness never provided a distraction.

  “Hey buddy,” I said softly, clinging to the squirming cat. “I hope you were good for Aunt Brooke and Uncle Trent.” He responded with a needy meow and I nuzzled my cheek against the top of his head. “I know, Eddie. I’ve missed you too.”

  I put him down and he scampered to the door, expecting Devin, and I shook my head. “I’m sorry, baby. Daddy isn’t coming home yet,” and with that yet, I wondered if he ever was. If he’d ever see Eddie again. I couldn’t imagine Devin abandoning him, but how would that even work? A custody battle over a cat?

  With the feline reunion behind me, I faced the apartment, taking a deep breath in the hopes of securing the bravery I desperately needed.

  I found none.

  Devin was everywhere I looked. His gym bag on the floor. His dirty socks under the couch. His cherished guitar propped up next to the recliner.

  It was the guitar that made me think of death. That the Devin I knew and loved was gone from this world, and all that was left was this new man with a new guitar. I stared at the worn wood, the nicked fretboard and lengths of string dangling from the tuning knobs. I missed its sound, I missed the way he looked at it.

  Fucking hell, I thought as I turned toward the table, I miss him.

  And there were the daisies. Dead and dry. Drooping sadly from stems of straw with crunched up petals scattered over the table top. That fucking table. His grandpa’s table. The place of so many memories for his grandparents, the memory of our first date and dozens more after.

  The daisies should have been my first giveaway that something wasn’t right. Of course he hadn’t gotten me flowers in months. It was always Richard running out to buy them for him. They had always been a symbol that things were good, that they were okay, so why the fuck did it have to take me so long to realize things hadn’t been okay in a while?

  I eyed the damn things for three hours, skirting around them like they were wild animals, before I finally picked them up and threw them in the garbage. My eyes watered at the sight of the empty circle imprinted on the table. The last time my life had been without daisies, had been just before my father died. Devin had never let me go without them after that, he made sure they were always there in my life. Now, once again, a man I loved had been stolen from me.

  Except this time, the man I loved wasn’t sick.

  I hurled the vase at the wall.

  It shattered.

  Tiny shards sprinkled over the floor like glitter. Larger pieces scattered haphazardly throughout the mess and I recalled that night in my dorm room. The broken vase, the glass implanted in my skin. Devin, plucking each piece out with a pair of tweezers and wrapping my hands up.

  I wiped at my eyes and shooed Eddie away, locking him in the bedroom, before I grabbed the broom and swept up my mess. When the floor was clear, I retired to the bedroom, deciding to skip a shower despite how grungy I felt. I needed sleep more and I collapsed on the bed, onto Devin’s side. I inhaled the familiar scent of his earthy shampoo—not that shit we got from hotel rooms. I wrapped my arms around it and I thought about him, sleeping alone in a cold, empty bed. Thought about him missing me, needing me, wanting me.

  And then, I thought about him forgetting me and smoking weed with Robbie. Doing lines of coke with Robbie. Getting wasted with Robbie. Falling down the rabbit hole with Robbie. Dying with Robbie.

  And with the pain of grief clouding my mind, I cried myself to sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Devin

  Six.

  That’s how many times I tried to call her.

  Eighteen.

  That’s how many texts I had sent her.

  Four.

  That’s how many times I hit my head against the wall, when it dawned on me that she wasn’t going to answer me.

  Three.

  That’s how many tiny bottles of liquor I drank from the minibar in my room, when I couldn’t think of any other way to numb my aching heart.

  I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t gone a single evening without wishing her good night since I was twenty-three. I didn’t know how not to, and so, I tossed and turned until the sun poked its ugly fingers through the curtains and laid them over my face. With a groan, I flipped the covers up and still dressed in the same clothes I wore after the show, shuffled my way to the bathroom.

  A heavy banging against the door pulled me from my intent to cleanse the night away, and I went to peer through the peephole.

  Robbie.

  I threw the door open, solely intent on kicking the ever-living crap out of him for being the cause for the fight, but was he, really? He was a fucking asshole, that was for damn sure, but it was my own choices that had led to the fight in the first place. And so, I resigned myself to not kicking his ass. But there was no reason for pleasantries.

  “You look like shit,” he said, laughing in my face before pushing past me into the room. “Where’s your woman?”

  “My woman went home last night,” I grunted, letting the door slam behind me.

  He nodded, dropping to the couch and kicking his legs up along the cushions. “Huh … you have a nicer room than I do,” he mentioned, letting his eyes take a gander around the room. “You even have a kitchen, man! What the hell is that about? The star always gets the good shit, I tell ya.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “What the hell do you want, Robbie?”

  He shot his gaze back at me, as though suddenly reminded that he had come by for a reason. He shrugged, “Just wanted to see how you were doing. Aren’t I allowed to check up on my buddy?”

  I shook my head, laughing bitterly. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

  He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “You’re using me, man, you know that?”

  “The hell are you talking abou
t?”

  Shrugging again, Robbie stuffed his hand into the front pocket of his shirt and grabbed his pack of smokes and lighter. Plucking one from the carton, he let it dangle between his teeth before setting it to the flame. Flipping the lighter closed and pinching the cigarette between his fingers, he pointed at me. “They all do it, you know. They all need that thing to blame the first time they smoke a joint or snort a line. Hell, you know what I blamed the first time? My dad and the belt he liked to use any time I looked at him the wrong way. But man, he wasn’t there, making me try the shit. I didn’t make you take a hit, O’Leary. That was all you, and if you need to blame me for that, fine. So be it. I can be a scapegoat. But I’m telling you right now, dude—you did it because you wanted to. You were curious. Because that little lady of yours, keeps you on a short fucking leash and you needed to let go a little bit before crawling back inside your cage.”

  He took a drag and puffed the smoke through his nose like a goddamn dragon. “It’s a shame, honestly. Hot piece like that … you’d think she’d know how to have a little fun, but that ass is fucking tight. If she weren’t spoken for, I might be inclined to loosen it up a little for her, if you catch my drift.”

  “I’m ten seconds away from ripping your tongue out and jamming it down your fucking throat,” I growled through gritted teeth.

  “Hey, I didn’t say I was gonna do anything, O’Leary. Chill out. Unless, of course, she’s no longer spoken for …” He winked and I took a step toward that weaselly little guy, with his stringy hair and crooked nose, and he flinched. “Easy, big guy. I get it, she’s off-limits—single or not.” And he winked again.

  Were we over? A sour dread flooded my gut and I had to sit down, thrusting my hands into my hair.

  “Aww, cheer up, buddy. Plenty of pussy out there.”

  “Robbie,” I said, exhausted and broken. “Please, shut up.”

  Much to my approval, he climbed off the couch. “Okay, okay, champ. I’ll leave you alone. I can see you’re hurting, but I wanted you to know, I’m here for you, okay?”

  I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

  “Hey, before I leave, can I ask just one question?” He pointed his cigarette down at me before popping it back between his teeth.

  “What?” I groaned, not bothering to look up at him.

  “What the fuck is her deal, anyway? Why did she get so bent out of shape over a little bit of weed?”

  I looked up at him, flaring my nostrils and wondering if I should divulge with him, the tragedy of Kylie’s life. I didn’t think he deserved it. But then again, everything I had to lose was already gone.

  “Her dad overdosed.”

  Robbie shot his thin eyebrows upward. He was intrigued. “Richie Rich isn’t her daddy?”

  “Her mom’s boyfriend,” I corrected.

  “Huh,” he said, tipping his head back. Letting his smoke spiral into the air. “Her daddy died?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well,” he said, nodding, “that sure sucks for him. Sorry to hear. But, that doesn’t exactly give her a reason to keep her man from having a good time, if you know what I’m saying, but … maybe you don’t. Anyway, come find me if you need me.”

  With that, he staggered toward the door and I was grateful to hear it slam behind him. But fuck, the shit he had said, about it being a choice I had made. Coupled with her words, about me being the problem, I wondered if they were onto something.

  If this was just a part of who I was now and if maybe I should embrace it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  One Month Later

  Devin

  I trudged my way from the stage and grabbed the bottle of whiskey I kept waiting for me. I pulled my phone from my pocket and looked at the picture of her I kept on my lock screen.

  Because I couldn’t let go—I didn’t know how.

  As I drank from the bottle, I stared at it until I convinced myself I could smell her. I unlocked the phone to hover my thumb over the button to call her. Again.

  All I did was call and leave her voice mails. To sing to her. To tell her about the places I’d been. To tell her about the Rocky Mountain Oysters I tried, managing a laugh about actually eating sheep’s testicles. To tell her about the best fucking cup of coffee I had since hers. Just to give her those memories and to feel like she’d been there with me.

  Always leaving out the drunken nights.

  Always leaving out the parts I couldn’t admit to myself.

  Leaning against the painted brick wall, I stared at her number. Debating with myself if she’d care to hear about another killer show that left me exhausted and drained of life. Did she need to know again, that I wished she had been in the front row? Did she need to know that I looked for her, even when I knew she wouldn’t be there?

  Sebastian clapped a hand against my shoulder. “Hey Devin, last night in Louisiana, man. You wanna hit up a bar or something?”

  I lifted my head from the wall and hit him with a half-hearted smile as I raised the bottle. “Nah, I’m good.”

  Ty pulled his sweat-drenched t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto a folding chair. “Come on, bro. You never wanna do anything. It’s been weeks since you heard from Kylie and it sucks, but you can’t mope around forever.”

  “A few weeks is hardly forever,” I protested, stuffing my phone back into my pocket and taking another swig from the bottle. Hoping it would help me sleep, although it never did.

  I felt like I hadn’t slept in weeks.

  Robbie sauntered in, eyeing me with mischief. I couldn’t understand why, until I saw the redhead behind him. Lurking nervously with a daisy pressed to her chest. My brows drew together, and I begged him with my expression to explain.

  “Boys, this is Becca.”

  Sebastian raised his bottle to her. “Hey.” Ty nodded his own hello, and I waved.

  “Nice to meet y’all.” Becca smiled. “Hey Devin.” Her voice was light and airy, a hint of Creole clinging to the syllables.

  “Well! Now that you two are acquainted,” Robbie said, releasing her and nudging her against the back towards me. “She is my gift to you, my brother.”

  I looked over Becca’s head to stare at him, disbelieving. “Uh, excuse me?”

  “I know, it’s very generous of me, but I figured you needed—”

  “You can’t gift a fucking person, Robbie.”

  Becca shook her head, wrapping her fingers around my forearm. “Oh, no no. When he gave me the daisy, I specifically requested you, so it’s fine. He means no harm.”

  Since Kylie left, Robbie had adopted the daisy tradition, utilizing it as an invitation for one lucky girl in the crowd. I hated it.

  I pulled my arm from her grasp to stretch my thumb and pointer fingers over my eyes. “Oh my God …” Shaking my head, I dropped my hand and forced my most sincere smile. “I’m sure he told you I’d be interested, but I’m sorry, I’m not. I’m married and—”

  Robbie snorted. “Okay, pal, you can drop the act. That bitch you called a wife hasn’t called you in weeks, man. Get the fuck over it and get your cock under someone else. Like Becca, here.”

  Ignoring him, I continued to smile at the hopeful young woman. “Can I call you a ride or—”

  Cackling, Robbie dropped onto the couch beside Sebastian. “The only ride she wants is you, dude! God, you’re so fucking dense, it’s almost adorable. Am I right, guys? He’s got that small-town idiot thing down pat.”

  Ty shook his head. “Come on, Robbie. When are you gonna learn to knock it off? You’re fucking exhausting.”

  “I’m sorry if I’m being a harsh motherfucker right now, but I need this guy to see the world the way it is. It’s my job to steer him in the right direction.”

  Sebastian scoffed. “Seems it’s your job to be a pain in everybody’s dick. I’m just waiting for you to fuck up enough to lose this job, like the rest of them.”

  “Ah, Devin loves me too much, right, O’Leary?”

  Love wasn’t the word I would
use to describe the way I felt for Robbie White. I wasn’t sure I even liked him at that point, but I have to admit, since Kylie left, he’d become a lot more tolerable. And he was a great drinking partner on those nights when I couldn’t stand being alone.

  I considered that maybe he was right. It had been a month since I saw Kylie, an entire month since I had watched her walk away, and I wondered if I’d ever hear from her again. Was I really going to spend the rest of my life alone? When I could revert back to my old ways and enjoy those casual encounters? The thought made me nauseous and I swallowed against the rise of whiskey in my throat. It was natural, I told myself; to have a tough time moving on. But, how else was I supposed to, if I didn’t try?

  Becca had the eyes of a siren, dark and deadly. They settled on mine, drawing me in, as she asked, “Do ya wanna grab somethin’ to eat?”

  Robbie laughed, slapping his knee. “I think she means her pussy.” His head hit the weathered bolster of the couch and he lifted his ass from the cushion to pull a bag of a white, powdered substance from his pocket. “You kids wanna take a hit of this before you find a quiet place to be alone?”

  The bile rose in my throat at the sight of the bag, at the flashes of vivid memory. Kylie’s college bed. The shards of shattered glass cascaded over the floor. The promises I made in that field. The promises I broke.

  I shoved those thoughts away. They wouldn’t do me any good. I shook my head at Robbie, told him I was good and placed a hand on Becca’s back. My fingers trembled against her paper-soft skin and I convinced myself to smile.

  “I’m starving,” I said, leading her toward the backstage entrance.

  ♪

  “They have the best gator tail in town,” she said, parking her Jeep outside a restaurant called Écrivisse.

  I wrinkled my nose, turning to her. “Um … what about burgers?”

  “They do have a burger that’s pretty good, but I’d recommend the gator, or one of their crawfish dishes.” She smiled, and I imagined a miniature lobster hanging between her teeth. I grimaced, and she laughed. “Boy, you came to the wrong state.”