Soul Breather (21st Century Sirens Book 1)

by T Stedman

  She zoomed off not to Kent but to Colchester. Her thoughts went from excitement to terror and back again. She needed to get back to America as soon as possible, but first she must see Sean.

  Chapter 5

  Jay was in a comatose sleep after his long flight and water aerobics with Tia. He was dreaming of manga eyes in an inferno, when the loud banging on his door brought him to his senses.

  “Fuck off! He shouted into his pillow.

  “Jay, Let me in!”

  Jay dragged himself out of bed and staggered to the door in the hallway with his eyes still closed. He glanced at his clock in the hall – 4.30 a.m. – and flung open the door. “Fucking Hell, Dant!”

  “Sorry mate!” Dante said, pushing past him and into the hallway; slightly stumbling, off his face as usual for the time of day.

  “What are you doing here?” Jay asked as he got straight back into his bed and into the same position he’d left, face down into his pillow. He lifted his head when the thought occurred to him, “I thought you’d been called home to Ireland?”

  “Nah, I couldn’t face it. I’m lying low for a while,” he said, as he held the curtain back and peered out of the large window.

  “The ‘Kats Wiska’s’ is lying low?” Jay knew the haunt that Dante would always go to if ever he wasn’t in town. “You only had to ask at reception, they’d have given you a room.”

  “They don’t have a stocked bar like you.” His Irish accent was thicker than ever when he was drunk. “Besides, I wanted to touch base with ya.” He turned and went over to the sideboard.

  Jay groaned, “Fucking hell, Dant. I just got off a ten and a half hour flight. I’m knackered!”

  “Talk to me man,” Dante said, pouring two scotches and shoving one next to Jay’s face so it slurped on the bed.

  “Aghh!” Jay sat up, giving in to the force of nature that was his best friend. “Why didn’t you go home?” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “Me dad is in full ‘looney tunes’ mode.” He plonked down into the armchair. “I can’t stand it. It makes me want to drink more than usual.” He took a large gulp of scotch.

  Jay just nodded and resigned himself to the intrusion and the knowledge that Dante was staying for the foreseeable future. “I saw her again.”

  “Who?” Dante said, settling down for the night; feet up, pillow behind his head.

  “That bird.”

  “What bird?” His bloodshot eyes were slowly closing.

  “The one … you know … Dannyl’s bird … well not Dannyl’s bird, now my bird.”

  Dante laughed and raised his glass, “I never thought I’d see the day brother, when you’d find someone you wanted to see again, let alone a girlfriend.” His eyebrows were up but his eyes still closed.

  Jay shifted uncomfortably, “I dunno about girlfriend?”

  “There’s hope for us all then,” Dante said, trailing off. His feet were now up on the coffee table as he nodded off, glass still in hand.

  Jay, who was now wide-awake, reached for the scotch. Girlfriend, he scoffed and poured another drink. I don’t want to share her though.

  A frown crept across his brow.

  ***

  Tia stopped just outside Colchester Barracks, got off and leant backwards on her bike, taking off her helmet and shaking out her long hair. She felt it, thinking she must look a nightmare with it still damp. Taking out her phone she texted Sean that she’d arrived, and waited.

  She was exhausted now she had stopped. It must be around three or four in the morning as it was still dark.

  She had promised Cash that she would check in with Sean as soon as she got back to England, and to be honest, she could do with his steadying influence.

  She saw an army vehicle coming out through the barrier. Sean got out the passenger side and jogged towards her. He held up a hand of thanks to his mates in the Land Rover, and then it sped off into the distance.

  Sean came up to her and kissed her on the cheek. “Hi babe, give me your keys. I’ll drive; you look like death.”

  Sean was a big guy with strawberry-blonde crew-cut hair, a few freckles and blue eyes. He was off-duty in jeans and a t-shirt, but everything about him shouted military.

  She threw him her keys, put her helmet back on and straddled the bike behind him. He revved the bike and screeched away. She nestled into his back and indulged in the warm feeling of safety he always gave her.

  They pulled into a travel inn.

  “I’ve booked you a room here,” Sean said, as he dismounted the bike, “So you can get some sleep before you ride back.”

  She followed him in meekly, dog-tired.

  Sean grabbed the keycard from reception and escorted her to her room, which was uniform and basic. “Get yourself undressed and into bed,” he ordered.

  She stripped down to her underwear and slipped under the sheets and threw off the duvet. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked back the hair from her face. She closed her eyes and accepted the affection which she’d seen so little of in her life.

  His phone beeped and roused her again. He looked at it and put it back into his pocket. “Come on then, what’s the news?”

  “I’ve met someone,” she said tentatively, and looked at his face and waited for his reaction.

  “Okay … you want to tell me about him?”

  “I don’t know him that well yet, but I really like him … I’ve never felt like this about anyone before … it scares me,” she finished in a whisper.

  He pulled her across the bed and into his arms, so he was cuddling the top half of her body. He rocked her as you would a small child. “Just tell me one thing Tia, and it’s important. Does he have anything like this?” He drew back and pulled out his dog tags from inside his shirt at his neck, and amongst them there was a necklace with a piece of mounted turquoise at the end. “This stone. Anything like this?”

  She looked at it. She’d noticed it before but never thought anything by it. “Yes, he’s got a bracelet, but it was Dannyl’s. He won it in from him in a card game.”

  He pulled her back into his embrace. “That’s good then.”

  “What Sean?”

  “Nothing. Listen,” he said, changing the subject, “There’s something I need to tell you as well.”

  His phone rang and he took it out, looked at it, and switched it off. “I’m getting married, Tia.”

  She pushed away from him again and looked into his face for confirmation, “Really … Sarah?”

  “Yeah, she’s pregnant … that’s her texting and ringing.”

  “Congratulations,” she said, unsure for a minute if she was pleased for him or not. Although their relationship was not sexual, she still saw him as hers.

  “Look Tia, I’m still here for you okay? I’m leaving the army in a few weeks and when I’m settled I’ll contact you, but the important thing is that I’m still here.” He looked intently into her eyes, giving her shoulders a little shake. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she said and allowed him to tuck her back down into the bed.

  “Sleep now. I’ll be here in this chair while you sleep. I’ve just got to call her before I’m in the doghouse, okay?”

  She nodded, smiled weakly and closed her eyes. She lay there listening to Sean’s platitudes to the lucky Sarah, and she drifted off into exhausted sleep to his deep rumbly voice.

  She was completely unaware when her phone rang and rang. It was resting on the bedside table, buzzing on vibrate.

  Sean looked at it for a minute, and then making up his mind, he picked it up, pressed the answer button and put it to his ear. “Hello … no she’s asleep … I don’t really want to wake her as she’s shattered … shall I say who called? … Okay Jay, I’ll tell her.”

  Chapter 6

  The next day Tia had left Sean with promises that she’d speak soon and hopes that he wouldn’t get in too much trouble with his girlfriend.

  She spent the day at her place in the Kent countryside.

&n
bsp; Through friends of Cash’s, she lived in a converted loft above some stables. It was a wonderful space. Her space. Precious.

  Access to it was gained from a rickety retractable metal ladder, but once inside it was lovely. Its walls were all exposed brick in the one large room. There was a wood burner, a large bed, a multi-coloured sofa, a high back wing chair, a screened off roll top bath – her sanctuary – and a kitchenette in the corner. Fish and vegetables didn’t need much cooking. She had permanently set up record decks, and a few fluffy rugs and some quirky Alan Streets originals hung on the walls and completed the eclectic look.

  In a great mood after she selected her records for the evening, she put them into her record case and set off for London. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

  She decided to park near Jay’s place first and speak to him quickly. She hoped he would be up for hooking up later. Then she would go on to the little club she was playing in.

  It was about 11 p.m. when she got there. Jay’s place was really busy already as she walked through the foyer. She made her way towards the bar; turning heads as she always did with her magnificent mane of hair cascading down her back in large blonde waves over her leather biker jacket. Skin-tight leather trousers, biker boots and visor sunglasses made her look like something out of a music video.

  She was about to go into the crowd in the bar area, when the lift opposite pinged open and Jay walked out. God, he looked gorgeous. A dark blue suit paired with the palest blue shirt, left tieless and the top button undone, paired with Italian shoes – yum.

  He stopped for the briefest second when he saw her, but smiled a small smile and came straight up to her. He kissed her on the cheek in welcome, but stepped back a pace after.

  “Hey!” she said. The tentacles of paranoia crept across her mind from his body language alone.

  “Hey, he replied. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight?” He looked past her distracted into the busy crowd.

  “No sorry, I just popped in. I have to be in Rare Moods in an hour, so I have to go …” As she looked at his eyes she felt the oddest pain in her chest. He was looking at her but he wasn’t. It was as though the lights were on, so to speak, but no-one was home. “I wondered if you wanted to meet up later?” She felt lame as soon as she said it.

  He looked at her for a second as if he was preparing to say something, and then changed his mind. “It’s frantic here tonight. Listen, I’ll try to meet you there, okay?”

  Before she could answer he was already walking past her. “Sure,” she said, quietly and turned and walked out into the foyer again. She turned back briefly but he’d disappeared into the bar.

  She continued walking without paying much attention and bumped into some poor person just walking into the place. “Sorry,” she said, looking up into his face, “Mark!” She shouted.

  “Wow, Tia!” he said, and pulled her into a hug.

  “What are you doing here?” she said, completely thrown.

  “I could ask you the same question.” He looked so pleased to see her.

  “I’m DJ’ing at a little place in Greek Street in a minute … you?”

  “I’m just meeting someone for a quick drink, then I’ve a got a late business dinner. But listen … let me meet you later?’

  “Erm …” She looked back over her shoulder. Don’t kid yourself girl. “I’ll probably be home by then,” she said, turning back to him. “I’m not feeling that great tonight.”

  “Let me pop round to you then?”

  “I live in Kent, it’s a bit of a trek.” She felt about as much use as a wet weekend.

  “No worries, I could do with getting out of town for an hour or two. And to be honest Tia, I’ve had the day from hell. I could really use some female advice.”

  She looked at his face and he seemed genuinely upset and his eyes were pleading. “Okay.” She wasn’t sure whether she was losing her mind or affected by the disappointment she felt in the pit of her stomach, but she told him where she lived.

  She said goodbye to Mark and stepped out into the bustling street. Her disappointment in Jay was a tangible weight she kicked along the floor.

  ***

  Mark’s heart sang. He couldn’t believe his luck. His father had blown a gasket when he’d had to tell him he’d let her go back to England, and now his bacon was saved.

  As the doors sprung closed behind him and he saw the reason for his visit step out of the lift and walk across to the bar. He sighed. Let’s get it over with.

  He followed him into the bar area of the hotel his father had virtually given his eldest brother’s best friend. He had to admit begrudgingly that he was good at his job judging by how busy it always was.

  He could easily see across the crowd being so tall, and there was his useless waste of space brother, propped up in his usual position, next to the bar. His friend, and partner in crime, Jay, stood with him.

  Mark said a few, ‘Hello, how are you’s’ to breathless fans who recognised him on his way through the crowd and eventually came to a standstill to the left of Dante. “Brother, fancy meeting you here …? I might have known this is where you’d be hiding.”

  “Marco?” Jay acknowledged, lifting his glass.

  “Oh feck off, arsehole,” Dante muttered in his thickest Irish brogue.

  “I had to come here, father wants you home. It’s urgent Dante,” Marco reasoned, slipping in to his Irish lilt as well which he only did around his family.

  “Don’t tell me, he wants to crown me king?” he taunted, “Double whisky, Paul. Whatcha having Jay?”

  Jay sensibly made himself scarce. He obviously knew which way this conversation was going; he’d witnessed it many times. “No Dant.” He held up a hand. “I’ll catch you later Marco.” He nodded a goodbye, and disappeared into the crowd, glad to escape.

  “Listen you pisshead,” Marco said, through gritted teeth as soon as Jay had gone. “I’ve found one, they exist.”

  “Yes, but you lost her didn’t ya?” Dante smirked.

  “Yes … no … look, she’s here in London. I’ve just seen her. She’ll be at Rare Moods, on Greek Street, for the next couple of hours. If you don’t believe me, check her out for yourself.

  This is it Dante, time to grow up.” Throwing his hands up, he left.

  ***

  Dante watched his brother stride off through the crowd and rolled his eyes. He had the right hump with him, and no mistake. He looked over at Jay who appeared to be busy sorting out a large party who had just come in. What could it hurt?

  He got Jay’s attention by putting his hand up and signing he was off, and Jay nodded. Then he jumped in a cab outside, as it was raining, and sidled into the traffic on his way to Rare Moods.

  He’d been there before. It was a small, low ceiling place for serious music buffs. Not a cattle market club for picking up girls. He and Jay had discerned the difference many years ago.

  When he got out of the cab he was already buzzing. The city lights were a pleasant blur – everything fuzzy, warm and right with the world.

  Jay was subdued tonight. He’d have to force it out of him later. For now he was going to enjoy wiping the smug smile off his poncey actor brother’s face, when he proved again what a pile of shit all this Atlantean bollocks their father had fed them since childhood was.

  The doorman knew him, as most of them did in the trendy clubs in London. He and Jay had frequented them for years as a double act. Most owners viewed their attendance as a good review for their club, so they never queued and were always ushered straight in.

  The ambient music clutched at him as soon as he was in earshot. Like a lure it pulled him to the main room just off the bar area.

  God, it was hot in here. Low ceilings. He began to perspire and became short of breath. Bloody hell, he felt weird. He grabbed on to a table ledge. Surely he hadn’t drunk that much? He shook his head. No, this was different. It was a fucking repeat of the turn he’d had at the Bluebell a few days ago. His heart was jumping and
palpitating all over the place. He held out his hands to see how badly they were shaking.

  That was when he caught sight of it: his antique ring. The only concession he had allowed his lunatic father was that he wore it continually.

  He remembered the excruciating pain when he was first given it on his thirteenth birthday. The ring contained a spike that had to break into the skin when it was first worn, and could only have one owner. The white opal had swirled red before it had settled to its pearly white. ‘If it ever turns turquoise son, you have found one,’ his father had said. And ‘if it ever goes deepest purple, you have found your queen; your most compatible mate in the world.’

  He’d listened just like his brothers but only ever thought it a pretty fairy story, never really believing that anything so fantastic could happen, especially to a waster like him. But today – this day – as he looked at his shaking hands it was deepest purple and thrumming.

  He looked up and around him. Who could it be?

  Overwhelming motion sickness was overtaking him, but he needed to know who it was. She was in the room, but who? He scanned the heads on the dance floor – nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps she was ordinary.

  That was when he saw the commotion.

  Three people were in the DJ’s booth. Two men were either side of a female who looked like she’d stumbled or nearly fainted or something. But as he shook himself to clear his head he homed in on what she looked like. She must have sensed him because she thanked the two men either side of her, stood unaided and looked over at him. She had sunglasses on but he somehow knew she was looking for him. He stood stock-still and for a second he was mesmerised, until a wave of nausea came over him so strong that he thought he’d spew up where he stood. He had to run to the nearest men’s room.

  Dante only just made it inside a cubicle when he vomited. When the spasms had stopped, he came out of the cubicle and splashed water onto his face. He felt better though.

  He looked down at his hands again and the shaking was better, but the purple in the ring was fading. Fuck!

  He ran back out into the club but a new DJ was in the booth. He rushed to the bar? Nothing. He looked down at the ring and it was white. She was gone. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!