I nod my head, looking around. When he shows me the back room, I notice a small keepsake box with a yin-yang carved on the top on the bedside table. I turn around and smile at him.
“That’s pretty.”
“It’s yours.” He shrugs as if it were nothing.
“Thank you.” I get closer to him and hug his middle, my head resting on his chest. He runs his hand up and down my back slowly as we stand holding each other in silence. With Tyler, this doesn’t seem like refuge. It seems like this is the way our lives are supposed to be.
We separate and Tyler grabs a hold of my left hand, kissing my scar. “You’re welcome. Get settled in here while I talk to the guys and make sure we’re all good to go.”
I look around the small room after Tyler leaves and realize how well they utilize the space on these things. A built-in dresser lines the wall. I unpack my duffel bag and organize my clothes in the drawers. I place my shoes under the chest and sit on the bed. I bounce a few times feeling its comfort level, and then scoot back to lean against the wall.
Next to the door there is a closet. I can put my art supplies there. I still have room to open my easel and paint. I am happy Tyler packed that for me.
I toy with the box he got for me and feel the wood carving against my skin, tracing the design. That man makes sure I know how important I am.
I walk out of the room and through the bunks, and I hear Tyler speaking.
“No one bothers her. No one gets too close. She’s going to be with us the rest of the tour, and I expect y’all to respect her. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” I hear someone respond. “So, you wanted the room to have a lock so you could . . .”
“Shut the fuck up,” Tyler roars. “Respect. Didn’t your momma teach you any?”
I walk through the curtains into the lounge. “Hey.” I look around trying not to show any proof that I heard their conversation.
“Hey, Red. I was talking to the guys.”
“Okay.” I notice the other guys smiling. We stand awkwardly for a few seconds, and then they start talking amongst themselves.
“Thanks,” I whisper into Tyler’s ear.
“You heard?”
“Yeah.” I shrug.
He pulls me in with an arm around my shoulder and says, “We’re leaving now. Our first stop will be in Virginia, and we’ll go from there.”
“Sounds good.” I squeeze the arm I have around his lower back. He looks down at me, our eyes connecting. “Did you bring the box with the art supplies?”
“Yes,” he breathes out. “Fuck, Red. Don’t look at me like that,” he growls quietly into my ear. I breathe in deeply, wanting to give him that, but unsure of how I could. He brushes his lips against mine and picks up the box near the front of the bus.
Tyler drops the box on the floor and sits on the bed. His eyes search my face.
“Are you good?”
“Yes. I wish I weren’t here for the reason I am. I wish I could sit on your lap and let you touch me. I wish—”
Tyler pulls my arm towards him, landing me on his lap. “I asked if you were doing okay. You can sit on my lap. It won’t be the first time or the last. You’ve overcome that. I can kiss you.” He cups my face, his thumb brushing against my cheek, and touches his lips to mine. “I can savor you.” He deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing mine. “I was your first and last kiss. Understood?”
I nod.
“Good. I can touch you.” He runs his hands down my back and around to my hips, squeezing them. Something jolts inside my body, causing me to shiver in a good way. I close my eyes and breathe. It’s okay for this to feel good. It’s not the first time my body reacts to Tyler. I’m not dead. But each time I need to remind myself that it is acceptable to feel this, to enjoy it.
His lips touch my forehead, my cheek, and move to my neck. I sit completely still as his breath tickles my skin and his tongue lightly leaves a wet trail. I close my eyes and my breath picks up. Tyler’s hand moves slowly up my arm to the curve of my neck and stops when it holds the back of my head. His thumb caresses my cheek, and I lean into his touch.
I feel him beneath me and tense. He holds me closely before I can jump off his lap. “I love you, Mikayla. We aren’t going to do anything more than this. I want you to feel this.” He places my hand over his heart. “I want to make love to you one day, but I care more about my heart and yours. Remember, my touch and my kiss are to show my love, not my selfishness. You come first. And because I tell you I want you, doesn’t mean I don’t respect you. I know how much you love me. I know your heart.”
My body relaxes and I break into a smile. I hug him as hard as I can. “I love you. So much. Thank you. Thank you,” I repeat. I’m grateful that someone sent him into my life. I inhale his scent.
“Are you sniffing me, Red?” He laughs.
“Yes,” I giggle. “You smell good.” I plant a kiss on his neck and stand up.
I look through the box and organize the supplies in the closet, leaving out the easel, a canvas, and some paints and brushes.
“You’re going to paint?” Tyler asks, hugging me from behind.
“Yeah.” I place the canvas on the easel.
“I’m going to go see what’s going on out there. Okay? I’ll come check in on you later. I know you get lost when you paint.”
“Thanks.” I turn my head to look at him, and he kisses me softly before leaving me alone in the room.
I close my eyes and center myself. Then, I pour paint onto the palette and begin painting.
Hours later, I take a step back and stare at the portrait of a young boy. His eyes are slightly slanted in sadness and one lone tear trails down his face. Everything from his cropped hair to his thin neck is in shades of blues and greens. The paint dripped a bit as I painted and I allowed it to move where it needed to go on the canvas. It adds an extra dimension to the painting, and to his sadness.
I stretch my body and roll my neck. I go into the bathroom with the paintbrush and palette to rinse it off. Tyler is speaking to someone on the phone and smiles when he sees me go into the bathroom. After I wash my hands and make sure the brush has no remnants of paint, I go see Tyler. The stars now pass quickly by us as I sit next to him on the sofa.
“That was Sam. She’s working on the situation.” I nod and swallow hard. “We’ll figure this out.”
“I know.” I tuck my feet under me and cuddle into him. “Where are we by?”
“Not far from Greensboro.”
“And what time is the concert tomorrow?” Their first show in this leg is in Richmond. I don’t understand the flow of the cities, but seems like the North East will have the first few shows then up to Canada a bit and back into the states.
“Seven. We’ll be there a few hours before, practicing. We will have a room where you can hang out. I’ll make sure to feed you, too,” he teases when my stomach growls. “We should be stopping for food soon.”
“Okay.” I get more comfortable next to him and sigh when his arm goes across my back and holds me in place.
“Where is everyone?” I ask when I hear the silence.
“Probably sleeping in the bunks or resting. We go through bursts of quiet and then lots of noise.”
I nod and yawn. “Maybe you want to sleep.” Tyler nudges me.
“No. Leave me here with you.”
He kisses the crown of my head, and we sit quietly with each other.
Tyler’s first concert was amazing. It was my first concert ever, and watching him from the side of the stage was a surreal experience. I realized how famous he is. People had signs and shirts. Hell, women wanted to attack him.
After the third concert, I started getting the hang of this touring business. Tyler and the others have long days when they have shows. In between the concerts, Tyler has appearances, interviews at radio stations, and private events. He makes sure I am always nearby, no matter where he is working.
It has been cool to witness all of this. See for myself how t
he music industry works. Tyler has been on tour for a month now, and we have not heard anything else from my stepdad. No sign of him, but Sam insists not to let my guard down.
Tyler looks over our shoulders everywhere we go and has my extra security following us. I’m tired of the unknown. He could have called to simply scare us. Called as a spout of anger and nothing more. Who knows if he even remembers making the phone call. And as much as I never want to see him again, I prefer confrontation to get it over with, than constantly questioning what is going to happen.
I lean back against the chair in the waiting room while Tyler finishes the concert. I hear the music from here, but I was too tired to stand by the wing and watch any longer. We were up early today, and last night I struggled to fall asleep, so I painted for hours before I finally got some sleep.
I close my eyes briefly as I hear “Whiskey Nights” playing through the speakers. Tyler closes out the concert, and I wait for his return. Not long after, I hear him say, “Red?”
I smile, my eyes still closed. He touches my face softly, and I open my eyes to stare into his.
“Tired?”
“Yeah. You did good.”
“Thanks. Glad you could still hear me in here.”
“Me, too.” My blink is slow and prolonged. Tyler laughs.
“We’ll leave in a few.”
“Okay.” I close my eyes again and wait until it is time to go back on the bus.
Some time later, Joe gives the okay. Before I can stand, Tyler picks me up and carries me. I’m too tired to argue.
“Goodnight, Red.” He places me softly on the bed and takes off my shoes.
“Tyler?”
“Yeah?” He looks tired too.
“Will you stay here tonight?”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I nod sleepily, and move across the bed.
“I’ll be right back,” Tyler says.
I drift into sleep, only feeling the bed shift with Tyler’s weight and his arms holding on to me.
“Let’s go for a run,” Tyler says after we eat breakfast. We drove all night after the concert and woke up in Ohio. I slept better last night, and I know having Tyler there helped.
“It’s freezing outside. Actually, snow covers the ground.”
“So? Then let’s have a snowball fight. I need to get out of here for a while.” I watch as his entire body moves around, anxious. I throw on a coat and my sneakers.
“No snowballs, but we can go for a walk.”
Tyler smiles widely and grabs my hand as we walk off the bus. The cold is slicing, but I put on a brave face. We walk a few steps in silence, the snow crunching under our shoes. I definitely need to buy a pair of boots, sooner rather than later. The tour has shown me how unprepared for the cold I am, and how little real-life exposure I’ve had.
Tyler’s hold on my hand is tight, and his jaw is clenched. I watch him a second, taking in every detail. His shoulders are tense as well.
“Are you okay?”
He sighs audibly and shakes his head. “No. I feel like I was played with. I hate not having control over any situation, especially when it comes to your safety. I swear it had to be him, but we haven’t gotten anything else since then. I don’t want to risk it, though.”
I stop walking and look him dead in the eyes. “You are doing the best you can. It is not your job to find him. It is your job to continue doing what you need to do, which is playing your music. Obviously, the police weren’t going to take that threat seriously. I’m not going to tell them what I went through. It’s done. They won’t do anything about what happened in the past in another state. I want this to be over. Fully over. Frankly, knowing he’s out there pisses me off because he has power over us now. Let it go, Ty. You got me, and I got you.”
He closes his eyes a moment. “I fucking love you, Red. It will be over.”
“It will, but we are the only ones who can end it by letting it go and living. He only wins if his shadow has power over us.”
“You’re right.” Tyler brushes his fingers over my lips before leaning down and placing his lips on mine.
We continue walking quietly. The smell of wood burning enters my nose. I inhale the comfort and imagine what it would be like to live in a cabin in the middle of the forest with my art supplies, books, Tyler and his guitar. And a horse named Brave.
I smile to myself as I imagine this life.
“Ready to go back?” Tyler breaks me from my thoughts.
“Yeah.”
Sometimes the days feel never ending. Mostly the days when there is a lot more downtime.
Once we get back to the bus, Tyler walks straight into the room and asks me to stay with him a while.
I hate knowing that he’s so stressed over this. I want him to understand that I am stronger than I used to be. That having his support means so much more than he can imagine. It has been a long time since I have felt like I belong to a family. Tyler makes me feel like that. He is my family.
I run my hand through my hair, gripping it tightly at the roots. I worry about Mikayla and each day she proves to me how strong she has become. She is keeping me sane when all I want to do is hunt down her stepdad and kill the guy. For the sole purpose of fucking with her life again. My life. I’m not putting up with mind games.
I watch her paint while I lie on the bed. She transforms when she is in front of a canvas, possessed by her imagination and emotions. A true artist. A true warrior. I don’t even think she realizes what she’s painting until she is finished. But I watch each stroke carefully. Her body moves to a subtle rhythm as she creates beauty.
I close my eyes, grateful we have some down time today. I have been obsessing over the situation and the reason why Mikayla is on tour with me. I wish things were different and she were here with me because we are living our lives the way we want. I’m happy to see she’s at least enjoying the tour. I love seeing her excited during concerts and the awe that washes over her face when she sees the fans.
As I remain on the bed, my breathing begins to slow until I’m completely relaxed.
I feel her scoot in next to me, and I sleepily wrap my arm around her and pull her close.
“You’re done?” I whisper.
“I’ll finish later.” Mikayla adjusts her body to fit mine and kisses my chest.
It feels like hours later when I open my eyes; Mikayla is sleeping next to me. I watch her. Her face is gentle and peaceful. Her breathing is slow and steady. Her hands are pulled into her chest.
I want to reach out and feel her eyelashes against my skin. They fan down so softly. I want to kiss her slightly open lips and mingle our breaths. I want all of her. Instead of standing and stretching, I keep Mikayla in my arms. In the last few months, I have turned into a real fool in love. Cash must have rubbed off on me.
My phone vibrates on the built-in table next to the bed and I lean over Mikayla careful not to wake her. I open the text and read.
Sam: How is she doing?
Tyler: Good . . . Better than I am.
Sam: It will be over soon . . . I have a friend from Amsterdam visiting, and he’s good at finding people.
I chuckle. What the fuck?
Tyler: What are you going to do when you find him? Beat him up on Red’s behalf?
Sam: Are you okay?
She’s quick to change the subject.
Tyler: I’m doing all right. Tired.
Sam: Get rest and stay well. Take care of her.
Tyler: I plan on it.
I have no doubt that I am taking care of Mikayla as best I can. Keeping her in my life is my priority. Making her smile and showing her how much I care come before anything else. And staying by her side as she finishes healing her scars.
Some nights, when I spend too much time thinking of how she will react to confrontation, I am tempted to have one sip. I don’t tell her this. She doesn’t need that on her brain, and I know it is part of my process. Bill says he went through the same thing, but each day got easie
r. I never realized how much I needed a drink until I decided to no longer have one.
Stressed? Grab a beer.
Overwhelmed? Serve a whiskey.
Excited? Let’s celebrate with a shot.
Everything required alcohol. It was a staple in my life for years. And at twenty-eight years old, I’m sober. At twenty-eight, I have decided to never have another drink in my life.
I look down at Mikayla and brush some strands of hair away from her face. If it means having her by my side every day of my life, I’ll spend another eighty years without a drink. I never want to be the cause of her pain. I never want to do to her, or anyone else, what my father did to my mother.
I lean back on the mattress and place my arm over my face. The woman sleeping next to me empowers me and she doesn’t even know it. It’s her silence that pacifies me, and her words that strengthen me. Whoever the fool was that said a man needs a strong woman by his side was damn right.
I feel her move on the bed, getting comfortable.
“You’re awake,” she states with her eyes still closed.
“I am.” I hold back my laughter.
“I could tell. You’re lying down too stiff.” She moves up on the bed and looks at me, placing her chin on my shoulder. “Are you still worried?”
“I’m thinking.” I drape my arm across her body, running my fingers down her back.
“Okay.” She doesn’t push and I love her for that. Instead, she watches me carefully, giving me time.
I finally chuckle and squeeze her hip. “Don’t stare too hard.”
“Thank you,” she says seriously.
“For what?”
“For having a place for me in your life. For protecting me. For standing up for me, even when I can do it myself. Mostly, for loving me how I am, scars and all.”
“I love all of you. Those scars remind me of your battle. They remind me that because of them, I was able to meet you. And although they may fade a bit with time, I’ll only love you more. You have no idea what I feel for you. I try to show you, but I don’t know how to show you the magnitude of love I feel. I’m learning, though.”
Twisted in You Page 28