Rocking Her Heart

by Melanie Shawn

  She gestured at a folding chair that sat empty a few feet behind him. She used it to set cartons on while she looked through them, or sometimes to stand on when she needed help reaching a high shelf. He pulled it over and sat down just outside the open door to her small office, then slouched low in the seat and extended his legs until he was resting his feet on the edge of her desk.

  “Oh, by all means, make yourself at home,” she teased.

  “Thanks, Abs. I will.”

  She leaned back in her own chair. “So, to what do I – and all of my customers – owe the pleasure?”

  “I just missed your face,” he said simply.

  “Oh.”

  Wow. It was only a few words, and he’d said them so casually. But they hit her like a brick to the chest even more than they would’ve if he’d made some dramatic pronouncement. She thought that the way he spoke, as if what he said were no big deal at all, added to the power because it was so stripped down there was only room for what was real, and true.

  “You want to go grab a drink?” he asked.

  She was about to agree, her go-to automatic response when he asked her anything these days, when she remembered. “Oh, crap. I can’t I’m supposed to be meeting Gen and Ella tonight to go shopping. We’re looking for presents for the guys in our lives.”

  He laughed. “I hope you’re talking about me.”

  She shrugged. “You’re definitely in the running.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows wolfishly. “If you want to get me a present, I can think of a lot of things you can give me that I’d like a helluva lot better than anything that comes from the mall.”

  She laughed. “You have a one-track mind. And that track is very dirty.”

  He spread his hands wide. “I don’t know why you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  She glanced at her watch. “Oh, crap, it’s past closing! I’ve got to go out and relieve Charlene.”

  “Is Charlene the girl who was at the register? Because if so, she closed the shop and locked the door before she went home, ten minutes ago.”

  Abby breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, man. It’s so nice having help. It’s a little hard to make the mental adjustment, though, after having done everything by myself for so long.”

  As she heard the words coming out of her own mouth, her heart caught in her throat a little. Damn. She’d been talking about the store, but what she’d said really applied to her whole life. And Jet…well, having him to lean on had been the biggest change. She just had to wonder how much longer she was going to have him.

  She looked down at her lap, determined to shake off the melancholy mood. Hell, whether she was going to have Jet in her life for a few more years, or months, or days, or hours – it didn’t matter. Whatever it was, she was determined to make the most of it.

  “You know,” she said in a low and sultry voice, making a point to lean forward at just the right angle to give him a great view of the cleavage poking out of her neckline. “I don’t have to meet the girls for another 45 minutes. What do you say I give you one of your Christmas presents a little early?”

  Chapter 17

  Jet

  Jet looked around at the nondescript community center door and thought, for the thousandth time, about turning around and getting back in his car. Just ditching this whole idea and driving the forty-five minutes back to Valentine Bay.

  After all, it’s not like he’d told anybody he was planning on finding an AA meeting and giving it a shot. No one was depending on him. No one was going to be disappointed in him if he didn’t walk in this building.

  Except me.

  He was working hard to create a life where not only his friends and family could be proud of him and his actions, but he could be, too. That wasn’t always going to be easy, he knew. In fact, sometimes it was going to be damn hard.

  Like now. He didn’t know why it felt so terrifying to walk into this meeting. He’d played shows for crowds of thousands, simulcast to millions. What was so scary about talking to a group of a dozen or so?

  He knew the answer to that question without even having to think too hard. The difference between the scenarios was vulnerability. He wasn’t playing a role when he walked into AA. He was just being himself. Jet Valentine, in the flesh. No band, no screaming fans, no panties being thrown, no hype. Just him, being real, and trusting that that was enough.

  Yeah. Fucking terrifying.

  But, regardless of how crappy it felt to push himself outside his comfort zone, he knew this was something he had to do. Overthinking it was just making it worse. Without hesitating a minute longer, he pushed through the glass door at the front of the community center.

  In the lobby, there was a hand-drawn sign with the letters AA and a crude arrow pointing to the right. Jet started down the hall and only had to go about 10 feet until he found an open door with another hand-lettered sign that let him know he was in the right place.

  Despite feeling like he was about to lose the fast food lunch he’d eaten in the car on the way to this meeting, he stepped through the door and took a seat.

  A middle-aged, balding man stepped to the front about two minutes later and got the meeting started.

  It was just like every one he’d seen on television. Introductions, announcements. Serenity prayer. Then, the leader invited people to share.

  Jet was happy to see that someone else raised their hand right away. He didn’t want to be the first one to talk. He knew that he was going to have to say something before the meeting was over. For some people, he was sure it was incredibly helpful to just come and listen to the struggles of others in the same situation. In the future, that might be the case for him as well.

  But for this? His first meeting? The thing he was struggling with the most was being vulnerable. In order to conquer that, he had to share his truth. If he didn’t do that, everything he’d made himself do so far just to get in this room would be for nothing.

  Jet listened to three people tell their story. They were very different people, and very different stories, but they all had one thing in common, both with each other and with him – they’d all lost or destroyed important people or things in their lives because of alcohol.

  The other thing that all of them had in common was that they were working hard to change things, and live a better life. Jet felt proud that now he could consider himself a part of that group, as well.

  Finally, he summoned the courage to stand up and share his own story.

  “Hi, my name is Jet.” He swallowed hard. He was sure that saying the next words would get easier over time, but as of now he had to speak past the giant lump that had formed in his throat to spit them out. “I’m an alcoholic.”

  The rest of the room returned his greeting and he was surprised by the rush of warmth and camaraderie that filled him. Yeah. The people in this room understood. It felt good to be around people who “got it.”

  “My parents died five years ago. I know a lot of people my age have lost their parents, and they get over it. They deal with it just fine. That wasn’t me, to say the least. I dove into a bottle and stayed there. Last week, I was… Well, fired from my job, I guess you could say.

  “That was one part of my wake-up call. Realizing what I could lose, and have lost, as a result of my drinking, and my out-of-control antics.

  “I decided to come home for a while. Finally face my parents being gone. And I discovered something while reconnecting with my family, and old friends.

  “There are people in this world that depend on me, just like I depended on them. And I may not have been dead, but I certainly haven’t been dependable. So now I want to change that.”

  As he sat down, he half expected the room to turn on him. For people to sneer, and tell him that he hadn’t had it all that bad, and how dare he compare his story to theirs.

  No one did that, though. Instead, he was the recipient of encouragement and even a few claps on the shoulder.
<
br />   It occurred to him, in fact, that the only person in the room that seemed to think he was a piece of shit was him.

  Time to work on changing that. And he figured that here, and in other rooms like this one, was a pretty good place to start.

  Chapter 18

  Abby

  As the festive sounds of Darlene Love and Ronnie Spector’s version of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” filled the food court, Abby ran up to the table where her friends were sipping from fountain drink cups and skidded to a stop. She flopped down in one of the empty chairs and dropped her purse into the other, then struggled to take her coat off as she huffed, “God, you guys, I’m so sorry I’m late!”

  Ella put her hand on Abby’s arm, her eyes concerned. “It’s okay! Seriously, Abby. Don’t worry about it.”

  Gen leaned back in her chair, lifted her straw to her lips, and eyed Abby appraisingly as she took a drink. Abby felt stripped bare, vulnerable, as Gen’s laser-sharp gaze traveled from her head to her toes and back again.

  Then, suddenly, Gen sat up ramrod straight, her eyes widening. “Oh. My. Freaking. God. You did it!”

  Abby blushed, but tried to play it off. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Uh, yeah. Ya do,” Gen smirked.

  Ella looked back and forth between them, brows drawn together, her face the picture of confusion. “Well, I don’t. Tell me. What are you talking about?”

  Gen turned to her friend. “Abby and Jet got tangled up in the tinsel.”

  Ella’s brows only drew further together. “Tangled up in the…what? What are you talking about?”

  “Yeah,” Abby said, injecting an innocent note into her voice. “What are you talking about?”

  Gen laughed and pointed at Abby. “Stop trying to play innocent, you Jezebel. You’re way more naughty than nice right now. Stop denying it.”

  Abby opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again. Heat spread over her face and she knew her cheeks must be lighting up like a Christmas tree. Finally, she gave a huge sigh and dropped her chin to her chest, her shoulders slumping.

  “Fine,” she mumbled. “I give up.”

  “Wait, what was that?” Gen intoned. “You’re gonna need to repeat that, a little clearer and a little louder. So the cheap seats can understand you.”

  “Hold on just a minute,” Ella interjected. “Are you saying that Abby and Jet have been…”

  “Oh, yeah,” Gen confirmed. “It’s written all over her face. They’ve been playin’ reindeer games.”

  Abby’s head snapped up and her hands flew to cover her face. “Oh my God, enough with the Christmas puns already. Yes. Jet and I have been hooking up since he’s been back.”

  “Oh my gosh, are you serious?”

  Abby took her hands away so that she could see if the level of delighted surprise on Ell’s face matched that in her voice, and she wasn’t disappointed.

  “I knew it,” Gen said, and everything about her – her voice, her face, her posture – telegraphed self-satisfaction. Hell, Abby couldn’t blame her. She had, after all, predicted it. And she’d been right.

  Still. That didn’t make it fun to be on the receiving end of the “I told you so” parade.

  Ella threw her arms around Abby’s shoulders. “Yay, yay, yay! You know what this means, right?”

  Abby didn’t have a clue what Ella might think it meant, but before she could even venture a guess, Ella rolled right on. “We’re gonna be sisters! All three of us! I can’t wait!”

  Abby tilted her head to the side. “And…how do you figure that?”

  “Well, duh!” Ella rolled her eyes. “I’m marrying Donovan. Gen’s marrying Gavin. When you marry Jet, we’ll be sisters!”

  “Okay, now,” Abby cautioned. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself. We haven’t even acquired the cart yet, let alone that horse you’re trying to put in front of it.”

  “You’re right,” Ella agreed, sitting back in her own chair and sipping her drink. “I know I’m getting carried away. It’s just so exciting to think about the possibilities, though. You know?”

  Oh boy, Abby thought with a grimace. Do I ever.

  “Okay, then. If Ella’s moving too fast, tell us what’s really going on.”

  Abby shook her head. “I would if I could. But to tell you the truth, I’m not really sure. Jet’s only been back a little while, and this is a really chaotic time for him, what with all of the band drama going on. I don’t think he knows what his own future holds, or what he wants for himself, let alone what our collective future holds, and what he wants for us.”

  “And how about you?” Ella asked, her voice serious. “That was all about what he wants. What about what you want?”

  Abby nodded “True. I guess I haven’t really given that much concrete thought either. I mean, I’ve wondered about it. Pretty much constantly, in fact. How long is he going to be in town, will this be an ongoing thing or is it just a vacation fling? Stuff like that. But that’s different than actually figuring out for myself what I want.”

  “Very different,” Gen agreed.

  Abby sighed and stared off into the distance for a long moment. The cheery, festive atmosphere in the mall felt a little abrasive, it was in such stark contrast to her quiet, contemplative mood.

  There were no malls in Valentine Bay. It was far too small. Even this relatively modest mall was a thirty-minute drive. The closest really nice one was two full hours away. Because of that, Abby wasn’t used to the loud crowd chatter, the hustle and bustle, the bright lighting, and the overwhelming piped in music, which had now switched to Little St. Nick by The Beach Boys.

  The whole thing was kind of an assault on her senses. Even still, it didn’t take her very long to come to a conclusion. She turned to her two friends. “Yeah, I think I know why I haven’t thought about what it is that I want, and haven’t spent any time trying to figure it out.”

  “Why?” asked Ella, leaning forward.

  At the same time, Gen leaned back in her chair and intoned, “Oh. Do tell.”

  Abby shrugged. “I didn’t have to. I already knew. I’ve always known it deep down, I think. I want Jet. In fact, maybe that’s all I’ve ever really wanted.”

  Chapter 19

  Jet

  Mila’s arm snaked around Jet’s waist and she looked up at him, her face shining with pride and excitement. “I can’t believe you’re really here at my Christmas recital! I didn’t think it would really happen!”

  “Hey, what are we? Chopped liver?” Troy joked.

  “Yeah, Mila. Come on. You didn’t even pick the best brother to be excited about,” Donovan teased, and punched Jet in the shoulder.

  Jet looked at Gavin. “What? You don’t have some joke or dig you want to toss in?”

  Gavin shrugged. “What can I say? The kid’s got taste.”

  Jet gave him a satisfied grin. “That’s right.”

  “I mean, it would be better if she had good taste. But, what are you gonna do?”

  Jet laughed and gave Mila’s shoulder a squeeze. “They’re just jealous.”

  Mila stepped away. Jet thought that she was all but vibrating with excitement. “Okay, you guys. I have to go backstage and meet up with the choir. For, like, warm-ups and stuff. Will you make sure you’re sitting where I can see you?”

  “Trust me, kiddo. When those doors open, we’re gonna be shoving little old ladies aside left and right. It’s front row or bust.” Jet said and gave her one last hug.

  She hugged each of her other brothers in turn and then went running off across the lobby of the school’s performance center and disappeared through the side door that led to the backstage area.

  Troy looked around the lobby. “Dang. It’s getting crowded. Maybe we’d better move toward the doors. I mean, unless we actually want to have to do Jet’s ‘old lady trampling’ thing.”

  “Hey! I said old lady shoving. Not trampling. I’m not a monster.”

  The four guys edged clos
er to the auditorium doors. Gavin gave him a small jab with his elbow. “Who’d have thought that Mila would be playing to bigger crowds than you these days?”

  “Oh, very funny,” Jet deadpanned. “It’s only a matter of time until I’m performing again.”

  Donovan’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  Jet was taken aback by the surprise in his voice. “Uh…yeah.”

  “What have you heard?” Troy asked.

  Jet shook his head. “Nothing. I mean…I was just talking about in general. Just because my band, you know—disbanded.”

  His brothers groaned but he pressed on. “Just because I won’t be onstage with Valentine doesn’t mean I’ll never perform again. It’s in my blood. It’s who I am. I’ll get back there again at some point. I…shit. I have to.”

  Gavin said, “I’m more worried about what else gets in your blood when you tour. Or should I say, your bloodstream.”

  Jet nodded. “Fair enough.” He knew he had that coming. A lot more than that, really.

  They were all silent for a moment, and Jet had to admit that he was a little unsettled by how shocked they were at the idea that he’d return to performing at some point. He’d just assumed that was a given.

  And, it made him even more reluctant to tell them about the fact that Rome, one of his former bandmates, had texted him that afternoon wanting to meet up for coffee.

  Jet didn’t know what it was about. But if just the idea of him someday, even far in the future, returning to the stage took his brothers this much aback…crap, how were they going to react if they found out that he was reconnecting with an old bandmate? Especially at this early stage of getting his shit together, and his sobriety?

  Not well, would be his guess.

  The doors opened and they hurried down to the front. Although they didn’t make it onto the front row, they did get into the second. Jet figured that, with the number of eager and proud parents that had flooded into the aisles at the same time they had, the second row was a win.