Echoes of the Heart

by Casey, L. A.

  It’d been nearly a whole decade and I was still hung up on him.

  When I reached work and entered the diner, I was actually happy to find that we were busy because it gave me something else to think about other than Risk, other than how pathetic I really was for not being over my childhood boyfriend. I threw myself into work, I barely spoke to Joe, or the other waitresses unless it was to do with orders. I didn’t want to talk to anyone if I could help it and I think my co-workers could sense that. I knew they knew why too. They were aware that I would arrive late to work because I was attending Mr Jones’s retirement ceremony. They obviously knew that Risk was there too.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that I was feeling sensitive because of him.

  The day passed by quickly thanks to the steady flow of customers. My feet were aching. I worked myself to exhaustion and I couldn’t wait to go home so I could shower and fall into bed where I would hopefully have a dreamless sleep. I was standing up, leaning against the hostess counter, checking over the inventory of our stock and making a note of what deliveries needed to be made the next day. Mary Well’s was a themed diner so the only music that Joe wanted played was from the forties to the eighties by the original artists. I loved that. It made sure that I would never hear Risk’s voice while I worked.

  I was humming away to ‘Greased Lightnin’’ as the song filled the diner. I grabbed the tray next to me, intending to put it back in its spot, when the bell over the entrance door rang. I automatically straightened and turned with a smile on my face to greet the potential customer, but the face peering down at me was one that had been on my mind all day long.

  “Hello, Frankie.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  RISK

  “Lads, I’m nervous.” May paced back and forth in the hallway outside of the emergency exit of the hall of Sir John Leman High School. “Why am I fucking nervous?”

  “Because you’re not going out to a crowd of Sinners like you’re used to. You’re going out to people who taught you as a child and knew you before you were a rocker and you’re worried you can’t be cool because deep down you know that they know that you aren’t really cool. Am I right?”

  “Angel’s right!” May’s eyes turned wild. “I’m an imposter. Everyone knows it!”

  “Leave him alone.” I shoved away a snickering Angel and stood before May, placing my hands on his shoulder. “Relax, you’re good.”

  “I’m good.” He nodded frantically. “I’m fine, this is fine.”

  “Totally fine.” Hayes said from my right. “Mate, breathe. This is home. We’re good.”

  “Home.” May nodded. “We’re home. I shouldn’t be freaking out.”

  “Exactly.” I squeezed his shoulders. “Here, we’re just a couple of regular lads.”

  “Regular lads that are global rock stars and carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.”

  May looked like he was going to collapse but he snapped out of his breakdown when Hayes got Angel in a headlock, shutting him up. He laughed and so did I as Angel spluttered curses and promises to kill Hayes, who smirked and shoved our drummer to the floor.

  “Leave him be, dickwipe.” Hayes grinned as he held his hand out to Angel. “Get your laughs by tearing into someone other than our brother.”

  “You three are no fun.”

  Hayes pulled Angel to his feet and clapped a hand on his back. Angel was chuckling again as he reached over and shoved May. His eyes gleamed with amusement telling me he wasn’t being cruel with May, just a regular dick who thought stressing him out was funny.

  “You’re too easy to play with, Mayo.”

  “How can you be called Angel when ‘demon’ is so much more fitting?”

  We all snickered, then leaned against the wall of the hallway, waiting for our cue. We had met with the principal of the school when we arrived and we were hustled to a staff-only hallway to avoid any kids seeing us and a riot ensuing. There was going to be a brief video some of the students had made for Mr Jones, then he’d make a speech and welcome us on stage. It was one of the more basic and least stressful appearances we had ever done, but the fact that it was for Mr Jones made it a big deal. That was probably what May was so worried about it in the first place. Like Hayes and I, he thought highly of Mr Jones. He probably thought he would mess up his retirement ceremony.

  “Mr Jones is gonna be buzzing to see us,” I commented. “When was the last time we saw him? Five years ago?”

  “Four,” May corrected. “He came to a gig we had in Manchester, we got him backstage passes. Angel was sick that night so he didn’t get a chance to meet him. Remember?”

  “Not really.” I shifted. “I remember seeing him but nothing after that. I was likely out of it.”

  That made me feel like a piece of dog shit. Angel bumped my shoulder with his, gaining my attention.

  “You’ll remember this encounter with him and every other from now on,” he said. “Focus on that.”

  Angel was a hard arse, but he cared about me and the rest of the guys like brothers. I appreciated him and Hayes and May. The three of them saved my life when they threw my arse into rehab. I was still alive because of them. I always reminded myself of that when I thought they intruded on my life a little too much. They, more than anyone, had the right to.

  “Hey,” May said and he moved closer to the door. “Look, they’re playing that video the kids made for Mr Jones.”

  The glass of the doors was covered with sheer coloured paper on the other side of the panel, but parts of it were ripped, enabling us to peek into the hall without drawing attention to ourselves. We were bunched together like a group of schoolgirls as we watched the video projected onto the back wall of the hall. I smiled as I watched the video but then I saw my younger self along with a younger Frankie. A memory I had long forgotten was playing in front of me and it stole my breath.

  I sang to her and her smile, her eyes, everything about her was for me in that moment. I had forgotten how she looked at me like I was her entire world. I’d forgot how much I loved that about her, I’d forgot how much I loved it when she looked at me like that.

  “I take it that’s the infamous Frankie?”

  “Yeah, man,” I answered Angel. “That’s Frankie.”

  “She’s cute.”

  Gorgeous. She was gorgeous.

  The video came to an end and silently we all straightened away from the door and adjusted our clothing. I expected the lads to rip into me over what we had just seen on the video, but none of them said a word. I couldn’t even look at them; I didn’t want them to notice that seeing the memories I had forgotten about made my chest ache. Since we returned to Southwold, I thought of Frankie more than I had in five years, but seeing her face as I remembered it on screen, smiling my way with love shining in her green eyes? That was almost more than I could cope with.

  It worried me. When I couldn’t cope with something, I drank or used and now that I was sober I couldn’t do either of them. It meant I had to deal with how seeing Frankie’s face made me feel instead of simply blocking those emotions out. I tried to run through things my therapist told me to do when I found myself in a situation like this but, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember a single thing he had ever told me.

  One thing was on my mind, one person . . . Frankie.

  “You good?”

  Hayes put the question to me and I nodded instinctively to cover up my lie.

  “I’m good, man.”

  Before any of the guys could say a word in response, Mr Jones’s voice boomed as he introduced us.

  “Please, join me in welcoming past students and global superstars, Risk Keller, May Acton and Hayes Hurley. They’ve taken a break out of their busy schedule to come home to Southwold and attend this ceremony for my last year at Sir John Leman High School. They’ve brought along Angel Reyes, too! Our very own Southwold boys are home! Give it up for Blood Oath!”

  “Let’s get it.”

  The door to the ha
ll opened and, holy shit, it was only a small crowd but they made themselves heard. Everyone was on their feet, waving their hands and screaming our names. One by one we filed our way up onto the stage. I had a huge smile on my face as I clasped hands with Mr Jones and gave him a hearty hug.

  “Great to see you, sir.”

  “And you, kid.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “You’re looking great, Risk.”

  I reached up and touched my sobriety coin.

  “I feel great, sir.”

  I moved aside and snorted as Mr Jones ribbed Angel, offering to give him drumming lessons for free which made Angel beam happily as he shook the man’s hand. When I turned to the crowd and waved, the screaming became deafening. I made eye contact with as many of the schoolgirls as possible because they ate that shit up. I didn’t get it, but looking at them seemed to make their day and seeing how happy they were made mine so it worked out well for everyone. After a couple of minutes, the screaming died down and everyone retook their seats.

  We remained standing side by side next to Mr Jones.

  “Hey!” a girl suddenly shouted. “Aren’t you the girl in the video who was kissing Risk?”

  My eyes sought out the girl who shouted and my eyes zeroed in on the woman everyone else was staring at. Frankie Fulton. I felt like I had been kicked in the chest at the very sight of her. I felt like the ground fell away from under my feet.

  There she was. My Frankie.

  She was staring directly at me with big wide eyes. A burst of warmth filled my body at the familiar sight of her. Happiness filled me to the brim. Just as I was about to jump down from the stage and walk right up to her to say hello, to hug her, to do something, I quickly found that I couldn’t do a fucking thing because Frankie suddenly turned and all but sprinted from the hall, leaving me to stare after her like a fucking idiot.

  Hurt replaced the happiness that seeing her brought me and I wanted to crush that feeling and bury it away forever but I couldn’t. I was aware that everyone had looked from the exit to me and I plastered a smile onto my face just so no one could see how much Frankie’s reaction to me had hurt me. Mr Jones took everyone’s attention as he asked us questions about being home and retold some old stories of our times together. I laughed at the correct moments and answered questions when they were put to me, but mentally I was no longer present in the hall.

  I couldn’t stop replaying Frankie’s rapid departure upon seeing me.

  I didn’t even get a second to fully take in her appearance before she ran. I could see the bottom of the baby pink Mary Well’s uniform under the coat she wore, and her mess of unruly red hair was tied up into a pretty high ponytail, but that was as much as I could see. Her coat had been puffy, so I couldn’t tell if her body still looked the same or if it had changed over the years. I hated that I wanted to find out because I shouldn’t have given a fuck about Frankie just like she clearly didn’t give a fuck about me.

  She wouldn’t have run like a bat out of hell at the first sight of me if she did.

  On the outside, I was still smiling and laughing, but on the inside I was seething as the hurt I felt turned into anger and all I could think about when Frankie’s face popped into my head was, fuck her. If she wanted to act like she didn’t know me then fine, I didn’t give a shit. Fuck her. If she didn’t want to sit in the same room as me, what-fucking-ever. Fuck her. If she couldn’t spare me one fucking minute to say hello after nine poxy years then fine. Fuck her.

  Bitterness filled me.

  I held on to that emotion throughout the entire day, I couldn’t even shake it when me and the guys jammed with Mr Jones in our old music room, nor when we returned to May’s house later in the day. Frankie had taken over my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about how she saw me then ran like I was some sort of virus that she couldn’t wait to be away from. It felt like a kick in the gut each time the scene rolled through my mind. I should have blocked her out, I should have forced her from my mind but I couldn’t. I had an incredible urge to see her up close. She was wearing her Mary Well’s uniform at the school so I knew where she would be.

  Before I could think better of it, I asked the guys if they were hungry and only Angel said yes, so I drove us to Mary Well’s in a flashy car that our manager had rented for us. I hated it. It didn’t fit in with Southwold, it made us stand out. Angel was silent the entire drive, but when I parked the car and we both hopped out, he sighed out loud.

  “Mary Well’s diner. She works here, doesn’t she?”

  “Who?

  “Don’t play stupid, it doesn’t suit you.”

  Angel knew what I was doing just as much as I did.

  “I want food. I’ve been craving one of Mary Well’s burgers for years. You can wait in the car if you want.”

  I started for the entrance. Angel cursed then fell into step beside me.

  “You’re gonna regret this, man,” he said as I reached for the door’s handle. “Don’t say some shit you can’t take back.”

  I ignored his wise words because I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t want to listen to reason. I didn’t want to be the bigger man. For once, I just wanted to be an arsehole to make myself feel better. I wanted to see Frankie’s face and I wanted to hurt her just like she had hurt me earlier that day.

  After all, she broke me first.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FRANKIE

  I dropped my empty tray in surprise and flinched when it clattered against the floor. I was in a state of disbelief. He was standing right in front of me. Risk. My Risk. His ice-blue eyes were locked on mine and I almost felt paralysed under their watchful gaze.

  “Risk,” I blurted. “Hi. Hey. Hi. How are you?”

  His focus remained on me and his lips didn’t so much as twitch. I bent down and quickly snagged the tray from the floor before I straightened up. The small action left me out of breath . . . seeing Risk left me out of breath.

  “What’re you doing here?”

  “This is a diner.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m hungry.”

  “Right,” I said, stupidly. “Right. This is a diner. Right.”

  “You said ‘right’ three times, Frankie.”

  “Right,” I cringed and glanced at the man who was just behind Risk. “Uh, just the two of you?”

  Risk nodded, still keeping his eyes on mine which made me feel all sorts of under pressure.

  “Okay,” I turned, put my tray down on the counter and grabbed two menus. “Follow me, please.”

  I hurried over to booth one but paused when the visual of Risk leaning over the table on our first date when we were fifteen, asking me to be his girlfriend, then kissing me, popped into my head.

  “Problem?”

  He was right behind me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up because I could almost feel his body brush against mine. Almost.

  “N-No,” I spluttered. “Uh, maybe booth two will be—”

  “This one is fine,” Risk interrupted. “It’s just a booth, nothing special about it.”

  Somehow, I managed not to flinch. I shouldn’t have been surprised that the booth held no memories for him. It’s not like he remembered kissing a girl when he was fifteen and I was stupid to even consider that he would.

  “Of course.” Risk and his friend slid into the booth. “Here are your menus.”

  The man with Risk was Angel Reyes, the Mexican member of Blood Oath who they recruited when they were in America their first year. He was the drummer of the band and he was insanely talented, I had heard him play. I had heard all of the band play . . . I just didn’t hear Risk sing. I bought all of Blood Oath’s albums: the instrumental versions. I wanted to support their music and that was the only way that I could without risking my sanity.

  I focused on the pair before me and forced myself to be calm and collected. I reached down, grabbed my order notepad from my apron and my pen from the top of my head and said, “Can I start you gentlemen off with some drinks?”

  “A Coke,” Risk said without
missing a beat. “Cherry . . . Coke.”

  My eyes locked on his, but I said nothing. I wasn’t sure if he was referencing the nickname he once called me, but he didn’t look like he was teasing me in any way so I shook it off. I looked back to my notepad and jotted the order down then looked to his friend.

  “Just a regular Coke is fine.”

  I nodded and placed my notepad back in the pocket of my apron. My eyes glanced to Risk’s hands momentarily and my heart skipped a beat when I saw there were scribbles of black ink on the backs of his hands that disappeared up his wrist and forearm under his sleeves. He used to always write random lyrics and songs notes on the backs of his hands and on his arms. It was nice to see that hadn’t changed.

  “I’ll be right back with your drinks.” I plastered on a warm smile. “Please take your time to scan the menu.”

  When I turned and walked over to the opened hatch that led behind the counter, I flicked my eyes to the mirror on the wall and I saw that Risk’s eyes were following as I moved. It made me conscious of every step I took until I rounded the corner and was out of his view. I leaned against the wall and placed my hand on my chest, willing my heartbeat to slow because I was at risk of either an asthma or a panic attack, or bloody both if I didn’t calm my arse down.

  I hurriedly made both of the men their drinks, then made my way back to their booth. I was very focused on my steps to make sure I didn’t trip or do anything to attract notice to myself. The diner only had four booths filled, but it was only one booth I was concerned about messing up in front of. I reached booth one and smiled once again.

  “Cherry Coke.” I placed the cup in front of Risk then placed the other in front of Angel. “And a regular Coke.”

  “Thank you,” Angel said.

  “You’re very welcome,” I replied. “Are you guys ready to order or do you need another couple of minutes?”