I texted Easton. I prayed he would tell me to hold tight and that he would bail me out. He didn’t. He was overly optimistic that I would find some fun by the end of the night. I threw my head back and braced myself for another bump; then, I spent all of my energy on joining the party. I started with a shot.
By the time we got to the karaoke bar, I was feeling sick to my stomach. I didn’t know if it was my condition or not, but I hadn’t been able to consume alcohol the way I used to. Each and every time, my tolerance would shrink. I knew I shouldn’t have had any, but I wanted desperately to rid myself of my social awkwardness that came with being an introvert and the burden I carried of keeping a secret with the magnitude of cancer.
We stammered out of the limo. All of us had penis headbands, except for Chloe. She had a crown, a sash, and a ball and chain around her ankle. It was degrading at best. Everyone stopped and stared. I wished I was intoxicated enough not to notice, but I wasn’t. I was on the cusp of being chattier but also starting to yawn at an accelerated rate. I was ready for bed, and it couldn’t be later than seven.
The girls tumbled into the bar. I lagged behind. Something was off; it was either motion sickness or déjà vu. I stopped altogether on the curb as the others disappeared into the karaoke bar. I saw something I recognized. But what? I looked around the busy streets. A car honked as a guy hung out the back window with his phone. Was I a celebrity? No, I had a penis on my head. I snatched the hideous headband off of my head and hid it under my jacket. My stomach churned in humility. I was safer with the pack.
It was then, when I made my decision to head inside, that I saw him.
There, across the street, tucked behind the trash cans, was Simon. Like a hidden gem. I knew I recognized something, and it was his dog that came out to greet us when we unloaded from the limo—looking for scraps, no doubt. I crossed the street, thankful I no longer was getting the attention from onlookers, and came upon Simon sleeping on top of newspapers. His sign was different this time: “Need Help to Feed Family.” Poor guy. It was his only hope; he probably changed it out all the time, testing it like an advertisement. Seeing what sticks can be hard work. I knew that from my design classes at the college.
“Simon?” I said.
He was out cold. His clothes were so dirty that they were nearly black, and the deep wrinkles in his face showed pale against the dirt on his skin. His hair was so greasy, I wondered when the last time he had a proper shower. I stood above him—his dog whimpering—and I wondered what I could do to help this Tethered Soul.
“Simon!?”
I forced out a louder call, but my voice cracked. It’d been doing that a lot lately. I rubbed at my neck. The little dog begged at my feet, and I just stood there helplessly. The least I could do was give him a proper meal. Maybe the smell of hot food would wake him.
There was a taco shop two blocks down, if I recalled correctly. I made my way there and ordered five rolled tacos with guacamole and sour cream. I was back in no time, and Simon had woken up naturally. He sat, back hunched against the wall of a steakhouse. It was probably prime picking when they brought out the leftovers. I’m sure his dog loved it as well.
“Simon?” I said again.
Simon’s eyes widened at the sight of me and then dropped to the container of food. His dog stood on two legs and danced.
“I know you probably don’t remember me, but I’m Beck. I’m East—Sam’s friend.” I corrected myself.
Simon nodded. It was a brief encounter, and it was dark, I didn’t blame him for not remembering me in his drunken state.
“I brought you some food. Are you hungry?” I asked as I sat down beside him.
“Yeah!”
Simon took the food, his eyes large in wonder. He tore into a rolled taco. But no matter how hungry that man was, he still had the loyalty to share with his dog. Simon gave him one full taco. It was a generous gift. As if that wasn’t enough to melt my heart, he offered me one next.
“Oh!” I waved my hands about, “No, thank you, I’ve got to get back to a thing.”
Simon looked at me with questioning eyes.
“Yeah, my brother’s getting married, so I’m here with his fiancée, celebrating.” I pulled the penis headband out from my jacket and gave it a little shake.
Simon began to laugh; a toothless smile spread across his face, and I laughed with him.
“There! Over there!” Chloe yelled to the crazy one. Her long arm pointed at me from across the street.
Shit.
“Looks like the penis sisters found me!” I said to Simon, and we laughed some more.
The girls crossed the street, “What are you doing out here, Everly? We’ve been looking all over for you!” Chloe said.
“Yeah! We looked in the bathroom. Twice!” the crazy one said.
I rolled my eyes. Not on purpose. It was natural.
“OK, yeah, I’ll be right there,” I said, not wanting to leave the wisdom tucked within this homeless man. He was like a unicorn that only I could see.
The girls exchanged shifty glances.
“Like, let’s go then. Now.” Chloe had hero written all over her face. She would later tell the story as if she saved me from the dangerous homeless man.
I sighed and looked over to Simon. “Do you like to sing?” I asked.
The girls began to whisper. At least, they thought they were whispering. Simon chuckled and pointed to his chest.
“Yeah! Come with us! More food and drinks too!” I said.
Simon was quick to his feet. The girls were apprehensive—that was until the crazy one screamed.
“Wooooooo! Partaaayyyy!” She thrust her arms in the air as if she’d just won a boxing match and ran across the street. More cars honked, and Chloe ran after her, her legs pinned at the knees. I knew that run. The girl had to pee. I crossed the street slower than the girls before me, remaining at Simon’s side. He was a stiff man, and I assumed sleeping on the concrete would do that to the young and old alike.
The karaoke bar was loud for being at half capacity. The night was early, and I was thankful we got in when we did. Our party was by far the most obnoxious. Even worse than the woman singing “My Heart Will Go On.” I was embarrassed for her. She was most likely in her early forties, and she was not here to party. No, this woman was serious; she probably came here after work to fill the void of never becoming a professional singer. When she stretched out her voice, it was clear why this had never taken off for her. She felt it deep within her and looked like she might cry at the sound of her own vocals. Others might cry for a different reason. It was hard to watch.
The waitress got an extra seat for Simon. Most of the girls were taken aback by his presence, but the girl not named Alice gave me an approving smile.
“Hi, I’m Audrey.”
Audrey! I knew it wasn’t Alice!
“Hi.”
Simon gave her a toothless grin. He was so happy, and I felt grateful that I was able to brighten his day. It was fate that our paths crossed, and I was glad I came. Easton was right again. I did find a patch of happiness on this bachelorette night.
Simon ordered the kitchen sink and two shots of bourbon. When his food came, I ended up taking one of his shots with him. You only live once! Well, not Simon. He lived a lot.
“To Simon, and the amazing life he’s had the opportunity to live.”
I held out my shot glass, and the five other girls did the same. Bourbon, vodka, two Sex on the Beaches, and one dirty martini joined forces for a brief moment in the middle of the table to celebrate Simon’s life. It was nothing short of a miracle.
The night was a blast. I admittedly spent some of it throwing up in the bathroom, but that was only because my tolerance was zilch. Chloe showed us that she had somewhat of a decent singing voice, and at one point in the night, the crazy one showed us that she was wearing a neon pink bra. Simon got on stage to sing after some coaxing from the other five girls and me, and we all sang “Livin’ on a Prayer.” I only k
new the chorus; Simon didn’t know any of it. But that didn’t stop us from singing our hearts out. It was a night I needed. And I was grateful.
When the time had come to say goodbye, I left Simon with all the cash I had in my purse, as Easton had. It wasn’t much—sixty dollars perhaps—but he was touched. I said goodbye to Simon’s dog and finished up with a tight squeeze around Simon’s neck.
“Take care,” I whispered.
The five girls said goodbye to Simon, giving him high fives, and pats on the back, thanking him for singing with us on stage. Simon beamed like a new man. I wondered if I’d ever see him again.
I felt good on the ride home. Tired beyond belief, but happy. I never got my time with Chloe, but Simon was an unexpected surprise that made my night worth the exertion. Something about being in the presence of an old soul made me feel grounded like I was one with nature. And Mother Nature was a beautiful thing.
Chapter 21
I was already half asleep by the time the limo dropped me off. I threw my shoes into the shoe graveyard and padded barefoot to the kitchen. I forced myself to drink a full glass of water before bed. My full belly made me feel even more nauseous, and I ended up throwing it up no more than five minutes later. I must have been really down on myself because Easton answered a text I didn’t remember writing and came over to help. I knew enough to know I was embarrassed and that texting him was probably a mistake.
Easton was nothing less than a saint, though. He tied my hair into a ponytail and fetched me water. When I settled into bed after a hot shower, I begged him to stay. He didn’t hesitate. He crawled into bed with me, and I was thankful for the warmth of his body. I nestled my face into his neck.
“What did you do tonight?” I mumbled into the darkness. His hair smelled of cherry cigars.
“I played poker tonight.”
“Did I ever tell you I ran into your grandpa?” I fumbled on my words as I remembered the odd exchange I had with Clyde.
“You saw Clyde?” Easton asked.
“Yeah,” I said, partially aware that I was incriminating myself.
“Where?” Easton’s tone was confused. Possibly suspicious.
“Oh. Um.” My eyes searched the black void of my room, worried about how he might take my stalkery, “At that bar, the one you took me to.”
“You went to the bar? When?”
I took a deep breath. “I went when we weren’t talking. I think I was trying to run into you. I missed you,” I said. After what seemed like an eternity, I blurted out, “I was stalking you, OK?” I felt much better now that it was out. It didn’t feel like stalking at the time, but looking back now, the truth of the matter was clear. I was a crazy girlfriend, and I was ashamed.
“Hey, it’s OK; I was just worried for you. That’s probably not the safest place for you to be alone.”
Easton was understanding and forgiving.
“I just wanted to find you. I—”
“Shhh, it’s fine.” Easton ran his hand through my hair. “Did he say anything to you?” he asked.
“It was an . . . odd, exchange. He kind of acted like you were just a bar buddy and not his grandson. Now looking back . . .” I glanced up at Easton, and though I saw nothing, I stared, waiting for his answer.
“He knows me as a poker buddy. I know him as a little brother.”
I sat straight up, “What!?” I wanted to search his eyes, but it was so dark that all I could see was a moonlit silhouette.
“Two lives ago, he was my little brother. When I moved out for college, he was seven. It was a bad home. An abusive one. It’s always weighed on my heart. I shouldn’t have left him there alone. But, it’s not the first time I’ve seen it. Lived it. And it won’t be the last. I spent my last life looking for him to no avail. I ended that one short. I was twenty years old when I gave up on that one.”
Easton played with my locks, reflecting on his past life.
“I found Clyde at that bar, completely by chance. He didn’t remember me, but I knew it was him. I made it my mission to get to know him and hopefully find a way to enrich his life. So far, I’ve only made him laugh. He’s a tough nut to crack, and I think his substance abuse makes him damn near impenetrable. Still, I try.”
“It makes so much sense now.”
I laid my head back on Easton’s shoulder and pondered the awkward conversation we had outside of the bar.
I began to chuckle. “I probably looked like such an idiot to him!”
Easton found amusement in this. “I’m sorry. Grandpa just seemed like the closest thing I could think of at the time to convey how much he meant to me.”
I traced hearts over Easton’s chest. The pad of my finger barely pressing into his T-shirt. I felt terrible for him. It made me think of ways to make him feel better.
“That reminds me. Guess who I ran into tonight?” I said.
“Who?” Easton's heart was beginning to pulse under my hand.
“Simon.”
“You ran into Simon? Tonight?”
“Yeah,” I began to chuckle again. I rolled over to grab my phone.
“I brought him to the karaoke bar with us, and we all sang on stage together! It was a riot!”
I pulled up the multiple selfies I took of Simon and me, Simon and the crazy one, Simon and the girl who was . . . still not Alice. I paged through the photos in the dark, and Easton squinted, as the light was bright in his eyes.
“I don’t remember that girl’s name, but she was nice. And that’s when Simon and I took shots!”
Easton shot me a look I could only see by the light of my phone.
“What? I didn’t drink that much; It was only like three or four drinks.”
Easton continued to stare in disbelief.
I laughed, “I’m serious! I don’t think my body can process liquor like it used to. I felt sick after just one drink! But, then I drank more to squash the social awkwardness. It’s a real struggle sometimes.”
Easton’s disbelief turned humorous. His face cracked into laughter.
I laughed too, but I didn’t know what we were laughing at, just that his mood was contagious. The more I laughed, the harder he did.
“Beck?” Easton managed to squeak as he wiped a tear from his eye.
I sat on the edge of the bed. My phone was still lighting up his glorious smile.
“Huh?” I giggled, half dazed, half confused.
“That’s . . . not Simon!”
“What!”
I grabbed my phone from him and examined the photos. Easton was laughing so hard now he was rolled over to his side, his arm hanging off the bed. I shot to my feet and flipped on the overhead lights. I studied the selfies as if they would conjure an explanation.
They didn’t.
I wanted to say something, but my jaw just hung open as I watched Easton roll around in hysteria. My face flushed; I wanted to get him. But all I could think of was the pillow. I grabbed a throw pillow from the floor and chucked it at his face. In a million years, I would never make that shot, but tonight, I did.
The pillow knocked the laughter right out of his mouth. Now he was as shocked as I was.
We stared at each other for a split second with pure animalistic instincts. Without a strategy, I picked up the second throw pillow, but I was too slow. The first of the ammunition was fired back and already hurtling toward my head. I turned as it slammed into my shoulder.
I screamed.
Easton flew out of bed, ready to attack; I screamed louder and tried to run away. He was impossibly quick. He grabbed me around the waist, and I laughed so hard that no sound escaped my throat.
Easton grunted, pinning me to the bed. I fought with as much strength as I had. It wasn’t nearly enough to make a difference.
Both of us struggled to catch our breath. Our heart’s throbbing against each other.
I broke out into laughter once again, but something in Easton’s eyes melted my hysteria into depths of desire. The air shifted. For a moment, I took it in, th
e look in his eyes, the pounding of his chest. It was a moment I never wanted to forget.
“Do you,” Easton began, breathless.
I rolled my bottom lip in between my teeth, trying to freeze time. I wished I could live in that instant forever, basking in the light of Easton’s most cherished love.
I lifted my head, searching his eyes just long enough for my lips to find his. Time slipped away as we succumbed to our passion. It was the moment of a lifetime—the moment when I learned the difference between having sex and making love. I had never done the latter. It was the night I was able to convey just how much Easton meant to me. And I did so with every slide of my hand. Every plush kiss of my lips. The driving thrust of my hips. It was a slow, sultry dance to a melody only he and I could hear. The emotional bond we had, collided in a storm of lust and desire.
The sunlight penetrated my eyelids, and I scrunched my eyes while spreading my arms wide, stretching, and reaching. When I felt nothing but the cold sheets to my side, my eyes flung open, and I sat up.
I looked around my room for signs of Easton, but everything was unnervingly still. The dust sparkled in the air as it sank to the floor. In the distance, a car door slammed. My love, not lost. Not yet. I bolted to my bathroom and took a swig of mouthwash. My head pounding all the way. I perked up when I heard fumbling in my entryway. I spat and hurdled back into my bed, finding my warm spot. My anticipation grew with each footstep on the stairs.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Easton asked, holding a tray of coffee and a bag of what I presumed to be pastries. I could get used to this. A flush of my cheeks was enough to answer his question—and more. A dimple kissed his cheek.
“I feel surprisingly light today.” My eyes wandered the bedding. Easton laughed.
My heart began to pound. Maybe it was embarrassment, for the heat of passion last night was now out in the open daylight. Perhaps it was so surreal that I wanted to see if it would happen again.
The Tethered Soul of Easton Green: The Tethered Soul Series Book 1 Page 14