Why me? Why did this happen to me? If Sager is right and there is a God, why had He done this to me?
I started to shake, tremors of rage that needed an outlet. I swept my arm wide, knocking everything within reach to the floor. Plastic thuds. Metal clangs. Shattering glass. Who gave a shit? What use were beauty products to a blind girl?
A memory flashed into my mind of me standing in Tyler’s bathroom surrounded by shards of glistening glass.
I thought I had been afraid then.
Now I knew what real fear was.
Was this my life? Day after day of darkness without any purpose? Without any hope?
I somehow managed to get out of the bathroom without cutting my feet, but the anger still raged inside of me. If I could have peeled off my skin with my fingernails to release it, I would have. Stumbling into my room, I stood within it clawing at my wrists. I hated myself. Hated being this weak. This needy. Hating. Hating. Hot tears leaked from my eyes. I staggered to my bookshelf and started grabbing things. Thick college textbooks I couldn’t read anymore. Stupid plaques with motivational sayings that were nothing but bullshit. Pictures in frames I could never see anymore. One after another, I picked them up and threw them across the room feeling a surge of satisfaction as they smashed into the wall.
My dad came running after that, by the time everything was as busted up and broken as my miserable life.
He cursed, blistering words, irreverent ones, damning the God that had condemned him and his daughter to this living hell.
My chest heaving up and down, the adrenaline left my body. I wrapped my arms around myself and dropped to the floor, emotionally spent. But he didn’t come and hold me, and I didn’t reach for him.
The days ran together. Light grey for morning. Impenetrable black for night. The tangle of doubts and regrets became a maze inside my head that I couldn’t find the will to navigate.
So I slept.
If I could have slept forever I would have done it because in my dreams I could see again. Vivid colors. Distinct shapes. Intricate texture. Remarkable depth.
But then I would inevitably wake up to the bitter truth.
I loathed waking.
During one of those awake times, despair clawing its way up my throat, I had sunk to my knees beside my bed. I had grasped the rosary the way I had watched Sager do, and I had prayed. I had prayed with all that I had in me.
“Please, please forgive me,” I had pleaded. “I’m sorry for all of the bad things I’ve done. For being mad at my dad. For sleeping around.” I had cast around for every wrong thing I could think of and had confessed it. “Please let me see again even if it’s just enough that I can see his face.” A sob had choked me as I imagined his handsome features and the lure for me I found in them. Afterwards, I had waited and waited for an answer, but none came.
Then, I had picked myself up from the floor and very deliberately slipped the rosary off of my neck and set it aside. I had placed it on the nightstand carefully, only because it belonged to him, because it meant something to him. But it didn’t mean anything to me.
I didn’t think the God Sager believed in cared much for me.
So I decided I didn’t care for Him, either.
Or myself.
But I cared about Sager. My lifeline. My only light in the darkness.
“Siri,” I called out, my desperate grip tightening around the phone I never let go of anymore because he was on the other end of it. “Read the text messages from Sager Reed.”
“Reading the text messages from Sager Reed,” Siri said.
Sager: I don’t like one letter, one word texts from you. I understand if you’re tired. I know you’re working through stuff. But we agreed to work through them together. You asked about the concerts. They’re going great. Even the encore with me singing. They love your song, babe. But right now things kind of suck. In my hotel room alone without you. King has the one next to mine. I’ve been cranking up the volume on my headphones but I can still hear him over there with a bunch of the groupies. The headboard’s been slamming against my wall along with a bunch of ridiculously exaggerated screaming. I knocked on the wall and yelled at him. Told him they’re faking it. He’ll make me pay for that in the morning. But I don’t care. I care about you though. I miss you. I know you need to be where you are. I just want you to do everything you can to get better. For you. For us. For the future
Sager: It was good to finally actually talk to you on the phone last night. I’m going to call you every night after the show from now on. I’m all keyed up from the adrenaline and I like drifting back down to earth and then going to sleep with your pretty voice in my ear. I had a really good dream about you last night
Sager: I couldn’t remember if we talked about where I was tonight. I got kinda distracted with the flash of your boobs. Thanks for indulging me by the way. I went to bed a happy man. Well, as happy as I can be after seven days without you. But anyway, we’re in Chicago. Mary rented out this fancy restaurant after hours called the Girl and the Goat. Sounds weird, right? We celebrated our album hitting number 20 on the rock charts. It’s fucking insane. The whole tour has sold out already. Front to back every single show. All the way through Seattle
Sager: You asked about the others. They’re all keeping busy. War is on the phone with Shaina every day. Bry with Lace. Diz with April, and King—well the groupies are starting to line up for him outside every venue. He’s developed a reputation. I think it’s going to his head. His thinking one. It’s getting annoying
Sager: In New Orleans. You and I are coming back here together. The first chance we get. The food. The people. The architecture. The music. I love everything about it. I did at least fifty sketches. And I’m almost finished with your painting. I just don’t have the eyes right yet. I’m going to need another sitting with you. There’s this expression you get when you look at me that I want to capture but I just can’t seem to get it right from my memory
Sager: Why didn’t you answer your phone? I didn’t like talking to your dad. If I did or said something to upset you, you need to tell me. Call me right now or I’m getting on a plane and coming to you
Sager: Wise of you to call me. You sounded sad though, babe. Why don’t you go out with April? She said you keep telling her you’re too busy with your appointments, but friends are important. They can help carry our burdens. I’ve got the guys to distract me or I would be going totally fucking crazy worrying about you and missing you. Call April
Sager: Dallas is redneck central. Worse than Oklahoma City. I don’t like barbecue and I’m not anybody’s honey. Do I look like a chick?!?
Sager: Nine days since I’ve seen you. Still over four more weeks to go. Too many fucking days left. It really sucks that Mary added in those two additional shows back to back at Madison Square Garden. Not because I don’t want to play there but because I was planning to fly to Vancouver during those two days off to surprise you. Now I have to get my ticket refunded. It seems like an eternity since we parted. An eternity since I’ve touched you. Kissed you. Made love to you. I wish you would at least consider coming to Seattle. I talk to Jude every night before I go on stage. He’s a cool kid. I really would like you to meet him. Plus, I MISS you
Sager: Pick up your phone!
Sager: Your dad is not answering his cell. Pick up yours!!!
Sager: King talked me down from calling the cops, but only because April agreed to go over to check on you. I am officially pissed. And worried. Pick up your phone!!!!!!!
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Sager
“Give me my cellphone back, asshole,” I snarled at King, real vehemence in my tone. I hadn’t heard from Melinda in twenty-four hours, and she hadn’t sounded right the last couple of times I had spoken to her. April was on her way over, but she hadn’t called back yet. I reached for my rosary before remembering I had given it away. I offered another silent prayer. All kind of scenarios were running through my head, none of them good. I felt like a pressure cook
er about to blow. This long distance shit and having to rely on others to take care of my girl when that was something I wanted to do myself made my blood boil.
“No way.” King tucked my phone into his pocket and threw out his arms, taunting me. “You’re driving us all fucking insane over that puta.”
“She’s not a bitch, Juaquin.” I got up in his grill, my eyes flashing like lightning. “And it’s you not me who’s driving everybody crazy. You’re out of control. You don’t have to shove your shlong in every bitch that spreads her legs for you. Having that redhead blow you while we were on stage was not cool. You can get arrested for shit like that. And you screwed up the intro to ‘Beauty’.”
“That’s the real reason you’re pissed. It’s always that girl, pendejo.” He poked me in the center of my chest. Hard. “What you need is to get laid. One pussy’s the same as any other. Two’s better than one. Three’s better than chips and spicy salsa.” He shook his head and gave me a disappointed look. “You used to be fun before she came along and screwed everything up. Now you’re completely pussy whipped, like a fucking rollercoaster depending on what kind of mood she is in.”
“Give me a break, King.” Pissed, I leaned in, fists clenching. “It’s called being in a relationship. Show some compassion. She just had her dreams taken away. She’s got that and a whole lot of other shit to process right now. You of all people should understand how difficult it is to turn your life right side up again after it’s been turned upside down. That when a person is hurting what others see on the outside is only the tip of the iceberg compared to what’s going on inside.”
“Yeah, whatever, but I’ve had enough of her drama.” He lifted his chin, his gaze unwaveringly hard. “I’m sick of it. Sick of her.”
“Whoa, guys.” SG slung over his shoulder by a strap, Dizzy inserted himself between us. “Can we stow the animosity until after the show?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder where Samantha Daniels-Reynolds had a phone glued to her ear, her fingers flying over her iPad and her narrowed gaze fixed on us. “Things are going good. None of us needs a bad report getting back to the Queen.” He pinned us both with a look. “You feeling me?”
“Yeah. For sure. But give me my phone back,” I told my best friend, keeping my body language neutral but letting my threatening tone and the flare in my eyes give him the message that I wasn’t messing around.
“This isn’t over.” He passed me my cell, his brows drawn together. “You need an intervention,” he muttered under his breath heading for the riser and his drum kit.
Maybe he’s right, I thought. I was totally and completely obsessed with Melinda. But if I needed an intervention my best friend did too, because I had a pretty good idea he was attempting to work Miriam out of his system after running into her again when Bryan’s family had flown out to see the band in Nola. Since then he seemed to be trying to set some kind of record with the hookups. That might be a fun idea in theory, but if that was his way of getting over her, it was never going to work.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Melinda
“Stop it! I’m gonna hurl.” Awash in nausea, I opened my eyes to a world cluttered with grainy shadows, a world that was swaying now because of whomever was shaking me. I grabbed the hands currently latched around my upper arms trying but failing to pry them loose. The grip was feminine but firm and surprisingly tenacious.
“Oh, Thank God!” April. I always suspected her hands were strong from twisting open all those beer bottles night after night at the Mine and were they ever. She didn’t give me a chance to get my bearings before she suddenly crushed me to her chest.
“I can’t breathe.” My protest was muffled by her shirt. “Loosen up.”
“Dammit to hell, Mel!” she exclaimed, squeezing me harder while rocking us back and forth, my mattress springs squeaking beneath us. “I couldn’t get you to wake up. You scared me to death.”
“Can you stop it with the movement?” I mumbled. “Please.”
“Sorry.” She released me and moved off of the bed. “Let me hit the light so I can see you. This room is as dark as a tomb.”
“No. Don’t.” But it was too late. The unavoidable occurred as light flooded the room, changing it for me from solid black to grey.
“This room is disgusting,” she complained. “What the hell happened here? There are dirty dishes everywhere, stinky clothes and liquor bottles...” I heard clinking as she apparently picked up stuff and shoved it aside. I tried my best to track her movement, but my gaze was unfocused. I wouldn’t be able to fool her long. And truthfully I couldn’t recall the reasons why it mattered anymore.
I was blind.
That wasn’t going to change.
I was resigned to it now.
I knew what would come next.
The clinking reached a crescendo then stopped. Abruptly. I could feel her gaze on me. I braced, my fingers curling inward, my nails digging into my palms.
“Mel,” she whispered. “Oh my God, Melinda. Are you…blind?”
Pity.
I could hear it in her voice.
“Yes, but don’t,” I said. “I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me.”
The bed dipped as she returned and sat down beside me. She took my hand, enfolding it in her own. A moment passed and then another.
“He doesn’t know, does he?”
“No.” I shook my head. I knew who she meant without his name being spoken. He was all that filled the empty silent place I had withdrawn into. I didn’t think I had any tears left, but they fell freely across my cheeks anyway.
“Who’s been taking care of you?”
“My dad.”
“Really? He buy you all that cheap booze, too?”
I fell silent. I could hear her soft breathing. “He keeps me supplied. I think it’s easier on him if I’m passed out,” I admitted. That way he didn’t have to feel guilty about falling short with me. “It’s ok, really, because...” I clamped my lips together and shrugged. “Well let’s just say this whole thing hasn’t brought out the best in my dad.”
“He’s an asshole.” She threw her arm around me and brought me closer. I dropped my head to her shoulder soaking up the comfort like a sponge.
“You can’t stay here,” she stated definitively. “This isn’t good for you. You’ll stay at my mom’s place. She has an extra bedroom.”
“No.” I lifted my head. “Thank you, but no. She just got out of the business of being a fulltime caretaker. I’m not going to burden her or anyone else.” I sniffed. “My dad and I will figure it out.”
“Melinda T. Belle.” I jumped. I knew that voice well. “Snap out of it,” Mary ordered sharply. “If you don’t want anyone taking care of you, then take care of yourself.”
My stiffened spine snapped straight. “How...who told you?” I stuttered.
“April called me when she couldn’t wake you,” the Black Cat CEO explained. “She did the right thing. I should have heeded my instincts and insisted on seeing you when I stopped by a few days ago, instead of believing your father when he told me that everything was ok.” She made a disapproving sound. “Have you been keeping your appointments with the counselor?” Her voice came closer. I tracked her shadowy form as she moved noiselessly across the carpet. April must have cleared a lot of the debris field.
“No. After the airport it wasn’t hard to convince him that taking me out in public wasn’t a good idea.”
“I’m not going to ask what happened at the airport. I imagine it wasn’t good. I had high hopes for your father once upon a time, but I’m beginning to think he’s never going to fulfill those expectations. You however are another matter.” There was a rustling and a great deal of clattering. “Do you have anything bigger than this dusty duffle for your things?”
“No. Why?”
“April,” she snapped the bartender’s name like a whip. “Go into the bathroom across the hall. Grab any shampoo and conditioner that looks like it belongs to her.”
“Sure.” April kissed the top of my head and abandoned me.
“You’re coming home with me.” The bed dipped again. This time accompanied by familiar Christian Dior perfume.
“No I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. That wasn’t a request, Melinda. You can’t hide from your problems. That doesn’t work. You have to face them head on. You won’t be coddled at my house. You’ll be expected to earn your keep.” I felt a hand stroke across my hair and gentle fingers tucking a strand behind my ear. “I won’t indulge you, but you won’t be ignored, either. What you will be is encouraged, and if you will allow it loved as well.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Sager
“What’s all that caterwauling in the background?” I asked April. “I can barely hear you.” I exited the back door of the venue and ducked into the waiting limo. The driver slammed the door shut. Three sets of speculative eyes inside hit me. Our tour manager didn’t even look up. She was focused on the iPad on her lap, solving the most recent logistical crisis I was sure. King was missing, but apparently we weren’t waiting for him. The driver was already pulling the stretch away from the curb. Hopefully King had secured transportation to the airport in addition to whatever other services he was currently receiving. The next four weeks were going to be a city to city whirlwind without a minute to spare in between. Perform. Off to the airport. Fly to the next stop. Head to the hotel. Try to sleep a little. Radio interviews and PR stuff. Sound check. Rinse and repeat. Too many cities. Too much traveling. No wonder Brutal Strength had backed out. I was ready for it to be over, not only because of the exhausting schedule, but because I also wanted to be with her.
The Complete Tempest World Box Set Page 154