Haunted (11 page)

I looked at him closely. He was angry, for sure, but under that he was afraid. I wasn’t ready to call him on it.

“I can appreciate your situation, but I told you all from the beginning that I am not a miracle worker. If you want miracles, you better start praying. I’m going to bed, unless there’s anything else?”

He looked surprised. I was sure most women didn’t talk back to him. I was not going to be like most women where he was concerned.

“No. That’s it.”

I glared at him once more and continued packing up.

He started walking down the stairs but stopped three from the top. “Hey Jaylene?” I looked over at him. “That was a great tattoo you gave my brother. Thank you. He loves it.”

I nodded and closed up my case. I was finishing my water bottle when I heard the piano playing downstairs. Apparently that was how Marcus was going to work off his frustration.

As I was walking toward my room, Star stepped out of Devon’s room. “He’s going to sleep. He said to tell you good night.”

“Thanks Star. For your help tonight, too. Hey, if this rock n’ roll gig doesn’t work out you can come be my shop boy.”

He smiled sadly. “Yeah, I might need that. Listen. I heard what Marcus said to you. We just want to play music together, you know? And we just want Devon to smile again. He blames himself for what happened to Maggie, no matter what we say or anyone else says to him.”

I touched his shoulder. “Hey, nothing anyone says or does is going to help him until he’s ready to be helped. But being there for him until he’s ready is the best thing you can do for him. He loves you guys. That much is very clear. Let’s just all get some sleep and we’ll talk more tomorrow, ok?”  

He seemed like he needed a hug so I opened my arms and he stepped into them. “It’s been a long day. I’ll see you for breakfast duty, ok? What time?”

He stepped back, “How about 8:00? No one should be up before that.

I nodded. “Eight it is. Good night.”

“Good night, Jaylene.” He turned and walked toward his room with his head down.

The piano played on downstairs and I thought if Marcus and Devon could make such beautiful music together they had to be able to work things out. I paused in front of Devon’s door, wanting to comfort him but knowing that it was too soon for that. I brushed my teeth and crawled in bed.

Sometime in the night I woke up and heard the soft strumming of the guitar playing next door. It was a melancholy sound. A tear slid down my cheek before I forced myself to turn over and go back to sleep.

I woke up early, around 6:30, and rolled out of bed to do some yoga. Stretching helped keep my back in decent shape. I’d seen too many tattoo artists have to give up their work prematurely because of back and neck problems. I know I had my degree to “fall back on,” but I wanted to have the option to keep tattooing as long as I desired!

I knocked on the door to the bathroom softly to be sure Devon wasn’t in there. When I heard no response I crept in quietly. I reached over to close his door and I… Well, I had a compulsion to peek. In the pale morning light I could see him lying across his bed. The sheet rode low across his torso. He was shirtless and in sleep, he looked so peaceful. If I could have been stealthier I would have loved to sketch him in this pose. Truly breathtaking.

I didn’t want to disturb him so I silently closed the door, wincing when I heard a squeak. I kept the light off, brushed my hair, used the loo and brushed my teeth quickly. I opened his door just a crack and then closed my door on the other side. This bathroom was making life interesting.

I tip toed down the stairs into the kitchen and turned on the lights. Mrs. Boudreaux and the dinner crew had left things spotless. I walked over to the pantry and took out a box of pancake mix and the syrup. I found the necessary cooking utensils without making too much noise and commenced making pancakes and bacon. I’d scramble up eggs at the very end. In the cold storage I found some fruit, so I placed it carefully on a tray and was backing out of the door when Star walked in.

“Hey. Why are you up so early,” he asked me through a yawn.

He was wearing a rumpled tee with his boxers and his hair was sticking up all over. Star was the lone blonde in the crew. He was lean all over, probably from the high metabolism that had him almost constantly in motion. He was the kind of guy who put you at ease, like he didn’t want anything from you other than to be near you. He had an enthusiasm for things that made him seem younger than he was. But the morning showed a few lines on his face I hadn’t noticed before. At 25, he’d been around the block. I wondered if the block hadn’t been too kind.

“Just woke up and once I’m up, I’m up.” I smiled cheerfully. I had a pretty good stack of pancakes going and the bacon was sizzling on the grill. He looked around and a hand involuntarily came up to his stomach. “You hungry,” I asked him. “Help yourself! The early bird gets the worm!”  

He laughed and rubbed his stomach.

“It smells awesome, thanks. Is there anything I can help with?”  

I shook my head. “You can eat before any of your drool falls on the bacon.”

He kissed my cheek and said, “You’re a peach, Jaylene. This looks fantastic!” He loaded up a plate and was making groaning noises when the door cracked open and three more shirtless guys in boxers came stumbling in.

“What smells so good? Jaylene did you do all this?” Jade came in last, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Hey guys, help yourselves. I’m about to scramble a bunch of eggs and then I’ll bring them out if you want to go take a seat.”

They each walked by and mumbled some sort of thanks and kissed me on the cheek as they passed by to get their plates.

“Oh, Star. I forgot to make coffee. Does anyone need some?”  

A chorus of grunts followed and Star shoveled one last bite in his mouth before he started making a pot of coffee.

“Sorry, guys. I don’t drink it so I always forget. There’s fruit, too, so make sure you guys get some.”

More male morning noises followed as they served themselves. I tried to ignore the various scratching going on and was glad they’d at least thrown shorts on. All this skin was a little overwhelming, though, and at any time I thought they could come to blows over the food or try to drag me off by my hair.

After making the eggs I put a plate together and carried it out of the kitchen. One of the boys was missing and I wanted to make sure he ate breakfast. No more hiding this morning. I wasn’t sure what shape he’d be in after he played his guitar for most of the night but I was going to try.

I pushed his door open and set down the plate on a small table near his bed. He was still sprawled as I’d seen him earlier. His hair was disheveled and I hadn’t realized that the top was so long. Pieces of it touched his chin. He usually had it pomaded back. It looked just like black silk so smooth I wished I could put my hands in it.

I sat on the edge of the bed and touched his arm gently. He stirred, rolling over towards me and the sheet slid down further revealing a fine covering of black hairs over pale white skin that gathered in a thin line before disappearing under the sheet. He grabbed my hand and pulled it to his chest. My breath caught and I froze. He looked so incredibly sensual. I wanted to reach out and stroke his hair, his face...I looked away and cleared my throat. He pulled my arm in closer, almost pulling me onto his chest. I stopped myself from falling with my right arm and I giggled, I couldn’t help it. He opened one eye and I giggled some more. His eyes went wide and he loosened his grip on my arm, but only slightly. I pulled it back and felt my cheeks flush.

“Hey. It’s you.” He smiled a sleepy smile, closing his eyes for a minute and stretching. When he opened his eyes again, he spied the food. “Is that for me?” He was smiling even more and I so wanted to reach out and touch the crinkles next to his eyes.

“I cooked. I wanted to make sure you got some before the cavemen downstairs ate it all.” That wasn’t an exaggeration. I was glad I’d been nibbling at it as I cooked because there were slim pickings after they came through.

“That was real sweet, thank you. You cooked all this?”  

I nodded and he sat up rubbing his face. I’m sure my face was on fire. I could barely act normal while sitting there with him. He was absolute perfection. He could have stepped off Mt. Olympus and into this room. His skin was like alabaster, making his tattoos that much more severe and stunning. His eyes and lips were a little puffy, making me wonder if he’d shed some tears during his solo jam session last night. But he seemed happier, in a much better place than when he went to bed.

I watched him take a few bites and he downed half the glass of OJ I’d brought. “This is really good. Thought you said you didn’t cook much?”

“I’ll tell you a secret...It’s hard to screw up breakfast. And besides fried chicken, which I can’t make, it’s my favorite meal. Any time of the day!”  

He chuckled at that. “Breakfast food is the best. Thank you. Thanks for breakfast and...” He paused and really hit me with that soulful gaze of his. My skin rippled with goose bumps. “Just thanks, for being here. I’m sorry I bailed last night.”

He took another drink of his juice and looked away, his face screwed up in pain like maybe he was trying not to cry.

I touched his hand, “Hey, I understand. It was a heavy moment and you needed a break. I think I get it.”

His eyes found mine and I thought maybe he had some hope in them. “You do?”  

I nodded and smiled at him. “I do. And you don’t have to tell me what it was about unless you want to. I know there’s a lot of pressure on you and I don’t want to be the cause of that. I just want you to know that I’m here if and when you do want to talk about her.”

His blue eyes were dark and he looked so pained I wanted to take him in my arms and fix it all for him.

“I want to. I want to talk about her, I do. I just don’t know where to start I guess. I can’t find the words.” He put his plate aside. He’d barely eaten anything. He pulled his knees up and rested his head on his forearms.

“Maybe you could start by telling me something about her? If you want, that’s a place to start. It’s obvious that you all loved her very much. She must have been amazing.”

His head lifted and his chin now rested on his forearms. “Maggie was everything. A best friend, a cheerleader, a mother. She took our sorry asses and whipped us into a successful career, never letting us slack off or forget what we were supposed to be doing. She was there for us when we needed a shoulder to cry on, when we needed a kick in the pants, when we needed a drinking buddy.” He cringed at that and looked away, toward the window.

“A person like that would be difficult to be without. And it takes a special person to be all those things.” I wanted to keep him talking but I didn’t want to push.

“She was special. To all of us. For me, it was like she was the only one who got me. She knew I loved the music and hated all the popularity shit. She’d listen to me complain and then remind me how much I loved to play and loved the guys. Without her it just feels like, what’s the point anymore? Why keep playing?”  

I was glad that he clarified that. I didn’t think he was suicidal, what I got from him was just a deep, deep sorrow.

“What do you think she’d want you to do now?”  

He looked at me confused, then his chin quivered and he looked toward the window again. He took in a shaky breath before he answered. “She sure as hell wouldn’t have wanted me pining away in a room somewhere, running away from my problems. I just have this weight on my chest, squeezing me. When I play our stuff, I feel like I can’t breathe. It hurts.” His breath was still coming in shaky as he rubbed at his chest with the heel of his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Devon. This is going to sound kind of shrink-y, but bear with me, ok?”  

He nodded and looked down at the sheets. I thought about how to put this gently.

“Devon, that pain in your chest is grief and it’s weighing on you. The worst thing about grief is that it can manifest in physical symptoms, like a panic attack does to people who experience extreme anxiety.”

He looked at me, engaged but wary.

“I know about that. My mama had those after my daddy died. That’s why I came home from school. They were getting worse.”

Ok, this was progress.

“And what did she do to help, do you know? Did she ever talk about it?”  

He shook his head. “I’m not sure. I know she saw doctors about it. It seemed to get better after a while. I was just so grateful that she wasn’t having a heart attack like she’d thought.”

“It’s hard to tell the difference for some people. It feels very similar. Doctors treat it with medicine. Sometimes people try talk or behavior therapy. Others find the root of whatever is causing the anxiety and try to deal with that.”

He shook his head, seeming a little irritated. “I won’t take drugs. I won’t do that. And a head doctor? I don’t know if I could do that.”

“I understand. Lots of people don’t want to see a therapist. It’s uncomfortable, they feel like they are crazy or people will think they are crazy. I’m not suggesting you need to do any of that.” I took a deep breath and went for it. “Sometimes it helps to just face the things that frighten us head on. If we can determine exactly what it is that is holding you back, or for lack of a better word, what’s got you afraid to move forward, we can start to chip away at that weight on your chest, give you some breathing room to start making some decisions.”

He blinked. “You sure you shouldn’t have done this for a career?”  I frowned. I wasn’t sure what he was saying. “I mean, you’re great at tattooing, for sure. But you seem to know what you’re talking about with this stuff.” He gave me his small smile and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“I just want to help, however you need me to. I’ll tattoo you guys from head to toe and listen to whatever crazy music you guys want to play for me. Hell, I’ll cook breakfast for you every day if I can just see that smile of yours a little more often.”

He blushed and couldn’t help but smile a little bigger. He pulled me by my hand, leaning me forward, and he took my face in his hands. “If you’ll just be here I’ll smile, a little. And if your breakfast cooking is this good, they’ll all be begging you for it every day.” He sat up a little and kissed me on my forehead. “Thank you, chère. This was a great way to wake up.” His lips were still against my forehead as he spoke.

It was so very wrong of me to want him this bad. I desperately wished I had the guts to look up and kiss him. Instead, I pulled back and said, “Well, now that you’re awake, want to tell me what that was you were playing last night?”  

He cocked his head to the side, curious, and then closed his eyes.

“I woke you, I’m sorry. When I can’t sleep, I play. It helps to get it out.”

I stood up and nodded at his plate, “That’s probably cold by now. Why don’t you come downstairs and I’ll heat it up for you.”

“I’d be glad to, but I think you might want to leave first.”

It was my turn to cock my head to the side. “Ok?”  

He laughed at my expression. “Uh, I think I promised you we’d be dressed around here and I’m not exactly, ah, presentable.”

Gods, my cheeks were on fire! Could he tell that I’d been ogling him in his morning glory? I was pretty transparent and my poker face was non-existent.

“Right. I’ll just take this and you can finish it downstairs. When you’re dressed. Ok. I’ll see you, after you, you know, yeah.”

I made a beeline for the door, desperate to get out of there without further embarrassing myself. Beautiful, naked men were completely outside my scope of expertise. Partially naked in my tattoo shop was one thing. Trussed up in bed looking like Adonis, not so much.

I hurried down the steps and almost slammed into Star.

“He didn’t eat?” He sounded worried.

“No. I mean, he did, but he needed to get dressed and it was getting cold.” He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “Oh, you know what I mean! He’s coming down to finish.”

“Oh, he is, is he? He’s going to finish down here?” He was so in trouble.

“Really Star? It’s like that? I thought we were kitchen buddies and now you’re going to mess with me like that?” I made like I was going to dump Devon’s plate on him and he cowered away.

“I don’t think I’ll be messing with you at all if he has anything to say about it.” He ran away from me laughing.

I yelled to him that I’d get him back.

I couldn’t be really upset, though. I felt a little giddy after my conversation with Devon. But then my heart dropped. Why was I getting excited about this? He was off limits on a couple of pretty major levels. He was probably a widower, he was grieving a woman he obviously loved, and I had no business being as attracted to him as I was. I was here for 15 more days to do a job. That did not involve getting intimate with the most troubled member of the band. No matter what Marcus said last night, I would be there for him to talk to, I’d tattoo him if he wanted, but anything other than that would be highly inappropriate on my part. New rules had to go into effect: No more breakfast in bed, no more anything to do with his bed or looking at him in bed. Too tempting. No more goose bumps. My libido needed to get a hold of itself. I could melt about him after the job was done and I was back snug as a bug in my shop. These were the new rules and I needed to stick to them.