by Jane Charles
A moment of panic flashes in Kelsey’s eyes, and I bet she couldn’t remember the last time she just wandered. I was afraid she didn’t do anything for relaxation, but that worry was put to rest when Mary said she borrowed books from the library. Kelsey does like to read. Then, I started worrying that the books weren’t novels or other entertainment, but education. Like she used to read with Brandon.
“Okay, we will walk and breathe.” She looks around. “But why here instead of another place?”
“Well, I thought we could look at some art while we were at it.”
“There’s a gallery around here?”
I laugh. “This is the gallery.” I grin. “Haven’t you ever been to Bushwick?”
She blinks and interest lights. “I’ve heard of it, I think.”
“This is some of the best graffiti and street art in New York.”
“Then we should probably hurry. It’s going to be dark in an hour.”
Kelsey isn’t the only one who needs to learn to relax. Until today, I hadn’t realized I hadn’t been doing much of that myself. I’ve been in limbo, pushing the art, hoping to work for a comic company. Doing the tats on the side to make ends meet, but as I told her, all of that changed with her tattoo. I’ve done a lot of hard thinking since I left her on Sunday and had to face the fact that I was chasing a dream that I’d been chasing since I was in high school. Except, it wasn’t my dream any longer but a habit of that dream.
I haven’t even told the guys my change of plans and wasn’t going to tell anyone, but I blurted it all out to Kelsey anyway. I had to tell someone, and even though I live with my five best friends, brothers if not by blood, it’s Kelsey I wanted to talk to about it.
“So, what do you think?”
“About?”
“Me becoming a teacher.” Even though we are supposed to be breathing and being, I hold my breath.
“If that is what you want to do.”
Not exactly the answer I was hoping for.
“Do you think I’d be a good teacher?”
The corner of her mouth tips. “That depends on where.”
Now time for the real confession. “Baxter. I’d like to teach at Baxter. Or, a place like it.”
“It has nothing to do with me?”
I was afraid she’d think I was getting all serious way too fast. “You are a plus in this, of course. But it was Louie.” After talking with him, it’s what started the whole epiphany of what the hell am I doing with my life. “I’d forgotten how great that place is. Their reason for being.”
“I think you’d be perfect for Baxter.”
“Then I guess I better figure out what classes I need to finish up my degree.”
We walk and look at the graffiti and street art until it starts getting dark. I need to do this a lot more. Just wander and talk with Kelsey.
“Did you always know you wanted to be a teacher?” I ask her.
“I always knew I wanted to do something with music. It’s everything to me. I’m just not good enough to be a performer.”
“I’ve heard you play,” I remind her.
“I’m good at the piano. I know music, and I can sing. That doesn’t make me a performer. So, teaching was the only other option.”
“If you could perform, would you?”
A look of horror comes over her face. “Hell no. The idea of being on stage in front of an audience makes me sick.”
“Didn’t you have to at school?”
“That was different, and I was forced to or I’d fail the class. I threw up every time I had to go on stage. I don’t want to spend my life like that.”
“So, what do you want to do now?” It’s too dark to see much anymore.
“Doesn’t matter to me. Unless you don’t think I’ve breathed enough.” She says this with an impish grin.
“You liked this. I know you did.”
“Yeah. It’s good to just do nothing but something.”
“Well, we can go to a restaurant or pub and get something to eat or go back to the brownstone and see what Dylan has cooked up.”
“Are you so certain he’s cooked something?”
“Yeah. He’s been working on a novel. When he needs to think through scenes and outlines, or whatever the hell his process is, he cooks. When I left, he was just starting to work on a pan of lasagna.”
At her groan, I know we won’t be going to a restaurant.
“Doesn’t anyone else cook in your house?”
I laugh. “The rest of us get by and can throw stuff together.”
“You did mention you’ve managed to conquer boxed meals by adding meat,” she teases.
“That’s about all the rest of us can do.” He shakes his head. “Dylan, is another matter altogether. He likes to cook and healthy meals for all of us is a priority of his.”
“Dylan’s your house mom, isn’t he?”
I just laugh because that’s exactly what he is with all the cooking and cleaning he does. Not that he tells us what to do or demands to know where we are going or when we’ll be home, but he does make sure we are fed and picks up after us, bitching when we make a mess. “Maybe I’ll start calling him mom.”
I can’t move. I’m not sure I will ever move again. One thing about meeting Alex and the guys from school again is that I’ve eaten better in this past week than I did all of the past year.
Dylan was the only one here when he came in, but he left without eating, with a messenger bag over his shoulder, and said he’d be back sometime. It was odd, just me and Alex in this big house, eating lasagna and garlic bread, watching an old movie on AMC, but a perfect night to end a long week.
I did need to stop and breathe. Alex was right, I don’t do that enough. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I did. Certainly not since I left high school.
I need to do this just being and breathing more often. Especially if it involves being curled up on the couch with Alex. Though, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the shock that it’s Alex I actually want to be with.
It’s getting late, and I probably should go home, but I can’t seem to drag myself away, or offAlex. He’s reclined against the back corner of the couch, and I’m lying on him. My head on his chest, his arm around me, playing with my hair. Bliss.
Whoever thought I’d ever use Alex and bliss in the same sentence?
Well, it’s not really that late. Only eight at night, but I can barely keep my eyes open. Probably from walking in the fresh air, a great meal and really relaxing for the first time in years.
His phone dings, and Alex grabs it from the table and looks at the text. I read it, even though it isn’t any of my business. Actually, I can’t really help it since he’s holding his arm out and typing with this thumb while his other arm is still around me.
Joy: I need you. When do you want to do me?
Did Alex just get a booty call?
Alex: Anytime
Joy: Great! See ya soon.
“Shit.” He starts typing. Tonight’s not go just as the doorbell rings.
I sit up so he can answer, not sure if it’s time for me to leave or not.
“Thank God you’re home.”
“Hey, Joy.”
“You know, when I get the urge I always think of you.”
“About that, Joy.”
Where the hell did I put my coat?
“Bedroom?” This Joy starts going up the stairs and pulling her shirt up at the same time.
I definitely need my coat since Joy is clearly ready, willing and able to give Alex the one thing I told him I would not do.
“Joy!”
She pauses and turns. “What?”
“I have a guest.” He points to me.
Joy’s eyes go wide, and her mouth forms an “O” as she starts smoothing her shirt back down.
I know her. Another student from Alex’s graduating class. Have they been fucking since Baxter?
“Kelsey Fry?”
Why does everyone say my name like that? As if it�
��s shocking I still exist.
Then she looks at Alex. “With you?”
Well, our mutual hatred for each other wasn’t exactly a secret. I’m just surprised so many people remember.
Alex’s phone rings. He glances down at it and goes still.
“What?” I ask.
“It says Reed’s.”
“Answer it,” Joy and I say at the same time.
I cross my fingers and take a deep breath. Is it wrong that I hope he makes the cut but they don’t want to air the audition tape? That’s what would happen in a perfect world, but we aren’t in a perfect world. “I’m going to be sick,” I mumble to myself as the wonderful lasagna threatens to make a second appearance. Alex and the Reeds is going to be all or nothing. He’s good at what he does and I’ll need to prepare for the world to hear everything that I’ve kept private for so long. It’s my personal life and nobody else’s business. So why the hell did I spill it all in front of a camera?
All I’m hearing is “okay” and then an “I understand.” My heart sinks.
Alex is pacing and listening. Joy sinks down on the couch next to me. Both of us waiting for him to get off the phone.
“Okay, he says, but I have a favor to ask.” Alex looks at me, our eyes meet and I can tell he’s worried. “Kelsey and I, well we said some things that shouldn’t have been said. Could you edit out all reference to our high school? I think we started to say the name a few times and I know we mentioned the current dean’s name. That can’t be aired.”
More listening, which is driving me nuts. What the hell are they saying to Alex?
“It’s just that…” He looks at us again. “I need to tell you something, but you’ve got to promise me that it will be kept in complete confidence. It’s our fault in the first place, but if certain information gets out…”
“What the hell did you two say?” Joy asks me.
I wave my hand to shush her. We can talk about this after Alex is off the phone.
We then listen as he tells whoever he’s talking to all about Baxter, where the kids come from, and that this place gives fresh starts. To anyone outside of it, Baxter is a high school for the artistically gifted. Not kids that once lived on the street, some were in juvie, others in gangs, drug or alcohol addicted, all kinds of mental and emotional issues, former prostitutes, and the list goes on and on, all lumped under a category of Troubled Teens. He explains that if anyone learned the truth, none of us would have gotten into college and even if we did, we sure as hell wouldn’t get any jobs.
“I need a drink.” Joy gets up.
“Me too,” I mumble
She marches into the kitchen and comes back out with a couple of beers.
I probably shouldn’t hang out since Alex and Joy clearly have something going on, and I’m just in the way, but I want to know exactly who he’s talking to. If they want to know why Alex needs editing, then he must have made it.
When she comes back through, Alex grabs my beer from her, and Joy heads back into the kitchen. This isn’t going good. Not at all.
“Funding? The Baxter Foundation. The family is rich, but they need to do a lot of fund raising. Not even they have enough money to keep the school going and growing.”
He listens some more as Joy comes back with my beer.
“At last count, I think they were nearing about 300 students, and growing. They don’t like to turn anyone away with need and talent, but they are starting to run out of room.”
He’s nodding as whoever is on the other end talks.
“Thanks man. Appreciate it.”
More silence, which puts me further on edge.
“Me? I’m going back to school. I’ll do tats on the side, but I think I want to teach art.”
He finally hangs up and takes a drink of the beer.
“Well?” Joy and I demand at the same time. She may have gone for a beer, but she hasn’t even twisted the cap off yet.
“Didn’t make the cut.”
He’s kind of disappointed but not seriously bummed.
“So, why did he need to know all that about Baxter?” I’m almost afraid of the answer, and my stomach keeps tightening.
His cobalt eyes meet mine. “They still want to air the segment. They want to use some of the auditions that didn’t make it. We were an interesting couple.”
All color leaves Kelsey’s face. I know she doesn’t want her story out there, and I don’t exactly want mine told either, but we both signed waivers.
“I was hoping for the opposite. That they’d hire you but not air us.”
“So that’s how you two met up, because when I saw Alex two weeks ago, he never mentioned you.”
“Kelsey was assigned to me for the audition.”
Joy snorts. “And you two hadn’t seen each other since Baxter?”
“Nope,” I answer and take a swig of the beer.
“Oh, I cannot wait to see that meeting.” She laughs.
Kelsey and I aren’t laughing, and I’m really worried about her.
“Who called?” Kelsey asked. “One of the Reeds or a producer or something?”
“Paul Reed.” I’m glad it was him and not anyone else. He got my concerns.
“He’s going to edit, isn’t he?”
“Yep.” I take a seat across from Kelsey, and Joy sits on the arm of the couch.
“Of course he is,” Joy says.
Kelsey is nodding. “They give so much to charity and helping people out, none of the Reeds are going to screw over a bunch of kids getting a better shot at life just for ratings.”
“Besides, they don’t need you two to get higher ratings. They’re at the top already.”
That was my take, but I’m still not comfortable with us being aired.
“When will it be on?” Kelsey asks. She’s gripping the beer bottle so tight her knuckles are white.
“December 9th.”
“Merry Christmas.” Kelsey takes a drink, and any of the breathing and relaxing we did earlier is wiped away.
“So, I guess this is a bad night to ask you to add this.” Joy pulls a piece of paper from her pocket and hands it to me.
“What is it?” I can tell it’s a flower, but I’ve never seen it before.
“A lotus flower. It smells so good.”
“Nobody can smell it on your body.” I’ve been adding to Joy’s tat since I put the first one on the small of her back. “You’ve already got a garden growing as it is.”
“But I need this one.” She sobers. “I had another dream.”
Even though she’s been through all kinds of therapy, Joy still suffers from the nightmares of her youth. I’m not sure there is anything anyone can do to help her. The tattoos do for a while, but she barely goes six months before she needs something else added. Like the lotus flower tonight.
“You’re here for a tat?” Kelsey asks.
“Yeah.”
Kelsey’s face begins to turn pink, and I look back at the messages from Joy.
“I think Kelsey assumed you were here for something else.”
“Like what?” Joy’s really confused.
I read back the texts.
“And then you started to take your shirt off as you headed up to the bedroom,” Kelsey adds.
“Oh my God.” She throws her head back and laughs. “I am so not here for sex.” Then she looks at me. “You’re a cutie, Alex, but, um, no.”
That’s my life. In a room with two pretty girls and neither of them have any intention of ever having sex with me.
Not that I want to have sex with Joy. We are friends, and I kind of think of her as a sister. Kelsey, on the other hand, is totally different. I get why she feels the way she does, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want her.
“We can do it another time.” Joy stands and carries her unopened bottle of beer to the kitchen.
“No,” I blurt out. My night is already ruined and probably every day from now until that segment airs. Alex might as well add to Joy’s tat. “Why don’t y
ou guys do it tonight?”
“That’s okay. You and Alex are hanging and I’m intruding.”
Alex looks at me and lifts an eyebrow, as if asking me permission, or it’s my decision.
“Go ahead. I kind of want to watch, if that’s okay.”
“I don’t care.” Joy shrugs.
Alex stands and sets his beer in front of me. “If I’m going to do her tat, I’m not drinking this.”
He’s only had two swigs. Most of the beer is still in the bottle.
“Appreciate that. I don’t want a drunk Lotus flower on my back.” She heads for the kitchen. “I’ll put my beer back and have it when you’re done.”
“I’ll get my stuff.” Alex heads up the stairs and Joy comes back to the couch.
“So, you and Alex, all cozy here, watching TV?” she asks as if searching for more information.
“Just watching TV.” Joy and I were not friends. We weren’t enemies either, we just had nothing in common. I’m not even sure what her art concentration at Baxter was. I just remember her hanging out with the gardener. Baxter had formal gardens up closer to the administration building that was actually an old plantation house at one time. Then, there were beds of flowers all around the campus, and bushes, trees, pretty seating areas with stone walks, and every time Joy had a free moment, she was planting flowers or pulling weeds.
Alex comes back down with a case and sets up at the dining room table. He’s got Joy’s picture under tracing paper and making a stencil.
“Ready?” he says after a bit.
Joy pulls off her shirt as she walks to Alex.
She has a garden growing on her back. I don’t know how low it goes because it looks like it is growing out of the waistband of her pants. Not one flower is the same, and each is a different color. “That’s beautiful.”
“Thanks!” Joy grins.
“Thanks!” Alex says, giving Joy a look that clearly states that she has nothing to do with that tattoo other than offering up the skin.
“Where do you want it?” he asks.
“Just add it where it fits.” Joy stakes a seat on a chair, straddling the back of it so Alex can work on her. “It’s your masterpiece.”