Deepest Blues

by Heidi Hutchinson

  Sway grinned. “I have no doubt about that, Sparky.”

  Clarke smiled easily. “Why do you call me Sparky? Where'd that come from?”

  “Sparky Clarkey,” Sway teased, then shrugged. “I don't know, your eyes light up periodically.” He dipped three fries into his ketchup and took a messy bite. “I keep trying to figure out if they have a pattern, or if there's something specific that triggers it.”

  She shook her head and looked down at her nearly empty plate. Girl could eat.

  “Maybe you shouldn't be looking into my eyes so often.”

  “Aw, that's not fair. I like eyes. Especially beautiful ones.”

  She laughed out loud at that one and threw her body back in the booth. Her shoulders still shook a little with laughter, her cheeks flushing pink. “Everything I've heard about you is true, isn't it?”

  “Depends, I suppose,” Sway replied noncommittally. He kept eating, talking around his food. “I'm not as much of a whore as my reputation implies. But I do like women.” He winked at her. “And they like me.”

  “You're very charming,” Clarke admitted.

  “I've been called so much worse,” Sway replied with mock confusion. Clarke snickered and he reached for a napkin to wipe off his hands.

  ***

  Mike cracked his neck. Once on each side. He took in a breath and blew the air out of his mouth in mild frustration. Propping an ankle up on his knee, he sunk a little further down in his chair. His arms folded over his chest, reaching as far around his ribs as he could.

  He knew he was acting antsy, but he was a little bummed from missing lunch with Clarke. While he knew that Sway was keeping her more than a little entertained, he still liked those tiny breaks in his day when he got to see her. He enjoyed the easy calm he found in her presence.

  But he had had to take the Tesla in for repairs. Already. Even though he had just purchased it. It wasn't anything astronomical, mostly maintenance, but he wanted to take care of it sooner rather than later.

  That was one of those things he had to do for himself. If he let things start to slide like laundry or routine errands, he'd start to not pay attention to bigger things, like going to meetings. Besides, the dealership wasn't the worst place to hang out. If only he weren't so bored.

  He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his email, trying to find something to occupy his brain for the remainder of his visit. He was vaguely aware of the front door opening and someone new entering the building.

  A conversation began nearby between the new arrival and a sales associate, but Mike wasn't listening. Eventually the voices moved further away and he tuned them out entirely.

  “Mike?”

  He felt the hair on his neck stand up and his lungs squeezed, making it difficult to take his next few breaths.

  Two feet in sandals with a bazillion tiny straps over them came into his line of sight. He followed them up to a long set of legs in skinny jeans, then came the classy blouse that was strategically tied in the front like she didn't care what she looked like. Mike wanted to stop, but it's as if his eyes paid no mind to what he actually wanted them to do. They stayed on their course, now up to the long neck, perfect chin, high cheek bones, iridescent blonde hair and striking blue eyes.

  Mike swallowed. “Hello, Ilsa.”

  ***

  Clarke didn't argue when Sway demanded he pay for their lunch. Mostly because she couldn't. She'd left work without her purse.

  She slid her hand in the crook of his offered elbow again as he walked her back to work.

  “I'm happy to say I had a wonderful time,” she said sincerely.

  “I have my moments,” Sway replied proudly. “Though I'm probably going to make you super cranky with me right now.”

  Clarke felt her stomach tighten in preparation.

  “I was wondering if you had a shower I could borrow and a place to nap away my jet lag. I'm still on London time, if you can believe it.”

  “I thought you were staying with Harrison and Mike.” Clarke frowned and focused on the sidewalk in front of her.

  “I am,” Sway replied quickly. “But Mike didn't give me a key, and he won't be done until later. And Harrison doesn't fly in until tomorrow.”

  They reached Soaring Bird and Sway held the door open for her. “If it's an imposition, I can always get a hotel. I just figured since we were besties now, I'd at least ask.”

  Clarke's mouth smiled of it's own accord. “Fine. But you have to clean up after yourself, and don't do anything weird to my place.”

  He followed her up the stairs to her office where she got her keys, then wrote down directions to her place and the gate code.

  “I promise to hang up all your towels. Musty towels are the worst,” Sway said seriously.

  “And you can't leave until I get there because I don't have another key.”

  “Right.” He turned to leave. “Maybe Mike will be done with his crap by then and we can all get dinner together.”

  Clarke agreed and waved as he jogged down the stairs and out the door.

  She returned to her office, sat down and stared down at the spreadsheets blindly. Slowly but surely Mike was pulling her into his world. Connecting her to his extended family one person at a time. Making it harder to not feel a part of them... of him.

  ***

  “You look, wow, Mike,” Ilsa swallowed and smiled shyly. “You look really good.”

  Mike honestly could not believe that he was looking at her. That she was standing right in front of him at the Tesla dealership in casual sandals, sunglasses resting on top of her head.

  Like she was a regular person.

  He took a breath. Exhaled. Felt the dagger drawn on his back itch just enough for him to lean against his chair and apply pressure to it.

  She moved to the seat beside him without him telling her to, or maybe he did and he just forgot. She swung her overly large designer handbag into her lap, crossed one ankle over the other and angled her knees toward him.

  “How have you been?” she asked, a swoop of platinum hair falling over one eye. She moved it back into place with one of her delicate hands.

  Her blue eyes looked toward the doorway where the sales associate had gone and she shifted a bit in her seat, trying not to let his silence fluster her. She hated silence. Always filling every moment with conversation or music. Silence made her nervous.

  “Marcus is buying a car,” she announced, as if Mike had asked what she was doing there. He had, only it was in his head.

  She licked her lips and her eyes locked onto his. “I'm six weeks sober.”

  Mike's lungs suddenly released and his breathing came more quickley. His heart rushed to catch up with the sudden change in air flow. “Three years for me next month.”

  Her mouth curved into a soft smile. He allowed himself to really look at her then.

  She was more beautiful than she had ever been. Her eyes were clear and her skin was glowing.

  Ilsa had always reminded Mike of moonlight, a beam that danced in and out of his life, and for brief moments she would reflect the sun right into his world. Maybe it was the ethereal shimmer of her blonde hair, or maybe it was the graceful way she moved.

  Mike felt something solid shift in his chest. Like a weight releasing, or pendulum swinging. He had felt for a while now that he was close to something. Close to closure.

  Close to a reckoning.

  Was it possible he had found it?

  ***

  “I refuse to flirt with Lia,” Sway protested flatly.

  “C'mon, I want to see what she does,” Clarke begged around her slice of pizza.

  “Heck no! Some girls give off a vibe that has taken me years to pick up on, but she definitely has it.”

  “What vibe is that?”

  “Uh, she'd just as soon knee me in the boys as give me the time of day.”

  Clarke doubled over in hard laughter.

  Clarke had gotten off of work and gone home to find that Sway had made himself comf
ortable. He'd managed to go to the store and was making homemade pizza for her as a thank you.

  They spent the evening joking around, telling stories and doing a good job of getting to know each other. And to Clarke's delight, Sway was a perfect gentleman. While he had a naturally flirtatious personality, he never made her feel uncomfortable. Quite the opposite actually. She was reminded repeatedly of Paul by some of the things he said and did.

  Could two strangers fall into perfect harmony after just meeting? She had never really thought about it. Maybe it was her lack of thought on the matter that made it so easy. Or perhaps it was her growing sense of belonging in Mike's life that she knew she would eventually fit anyway. So she might as well skip the awkward parts.

  She checked her phone, wondering where Mike was. Neither one of them had heard from him all day. As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

  “That's probably the man of the hour now. I have to hit the head,” Sway said over his shoulder on his exit to the bathroom.

  Clarke pulled the door open and was caught in a hug that picked her up off her feet and spun her around. She automatically wrapped her arms around his neck as he buried his face in her neck.

  “She's sober,” he said then, excitement evident in his voice.

  He set her down and held her by her waist, beaming a high-wattage smile directly at her face. She smiled in confusion. “Who?”

  “Ilsa.” Mike's head dropped back and he closed his eyes. A happy groan escaped his mouth and he looked at her again. “I saw her at the dealership. We ended up going out for coffee and catching up. God, Clarke, this is amazing. She's six weeks sober and she looks..” He bit down on his bottom lip and smiled huge again. “She's more beautiful than I remember.”

  Clarke's heart had started the steady rhythm it took when her body felt that it was under imminent threat. Like when she had cracked her head on the surfboard. Or when her dad had called to tell her about Paul. When the police had shown up on her front porch the morning of the funeral. It would start pounding steadily, keeping her body even and not allowing her emotions, no matter how fierce, take over.

  Why did things happen in her life like a bomb going off? No warning, no casual lead into it. Just, boom. Everything was blown to smithereens.

  “She's coming to a meeting with me tomorrow,” Mike continued, oblivious to Clarke's rigid posture. “I'm just so happy. I had to come and share it with you.” He took a deep breath and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “I'm not stupid, I know that she's still new to this, but it gives me hope, you know?”

  Clarke nodded dumbly.

  “Don't tell anyone yet. The guys wouldn't understand, and I want to make sure she's comfortable before reintroducing her to them.”

  “Are you guys...” Clarke's throat stuck and she cleared it. “Are you back together?”

  “No,” Mike shook his head, but his smile didn't fade. “Not this soon into recovery for her. But wouldn't it be great if God gave me a second chance?”

  “Yeah,” Clarke croaked out. “That would be really great for you guys.” It would suck for her. More than suck. It would kill.

  He took another deep breath and let it out, grinning from ear to ear. “Anyway, I really wanted to share it with someone, and you were the first person I thought of. I better get going, Sway is probably waiting for me to get home. I'll call you tomorrow, 'kay?”

  He released her and the door was shut before she had a chance to reply. All of her breath went with him. She stared at the wood, unseeing, then startled when she heard a noise behind her.

  She whirled to find Sway within reaching distance.

  “Oh, Sparky,” he whispered. He looked as heartbroken as she felt.

  But she shouldn't be heartbroken at all. He had been upfront since the beginning.

  Sway folded her into a warm hug, tucking her head under his chin and smoothing her hair back. “The way Mike talked about you, I thought... Were you not at that place yet?”

  That was a good question. Clarke's pulse was so solid. It was keeping her alive, even as she felt that small bloom of hope begin to die.

  “Sometimes I thought we were, or that we were close to it.” She felt wetness pool under her face on Sway's shirt. “But it's entirely possible I imagined the whole thing.”

  She felt Sway shake his head in disagreement—or protest—she wasn't sure.

  “I saw you. I saw you stand there. And smile at him.” Her tears increased. “So brave, while your whole world stopped. You love him.”

  More tears escaped and Clarke was powerless to stop the flow.

  “He was so happy,” she whispered though her emotion, afraid her voice wouldn't be strong enough to hold if she tried to use it.

  Sway held her tighter, somehow knowing that if he let go, she would fall apart physically as well.

  She'd already lost all the important things in her life. She had no idea that something this simple—this small—could have this much of an effect on her.

  It wasn't worth it. The hoping for a better future.

  It wasn't worth it at all.

  Chapter 14

  More Heart, Less Attack

  New Year's Eve. The end of all that was, the promise to begin all that could be.

  Clarke tapped on the side of her coffee mug with her index finger. She was pretty sure she had slept last night, she knew she hadn't been conscious.

  She wasn't tired. She wasn't awake.

  She was somewhere in between, lost in her thoughts. Trying to figure out how to get through today. Then she could worry about tomorrow. And all the days after that.

  Day one would be the hardest.

  Walter jumped onto the table, crumbs from his food stuck in his whiskers. He licked his chops a few times. “Meow?” he asked. When Clarke didn't reply, he head-butted her forehead. Hard. As if to will her sadness away and replace it with his reminder of feline devotion.

  Her hand came down on his back softly and she tried to smile. “Hey, big guy.” At the moment of contact, he began to purr and pushed his head down the length of her face until he eventually lay down on the table in front of her and rolled his belly skyward.

  Of all the things that could have changed the progress Clarke was making in her personal life, Mike reconnecting with Ilsa was the furthest thing from her mind. Ilsa was supposed to be a memory. A bad one at that. Mention of her was always in the negative.

  Even if he still loved her.

  Which was... so obvious last night.

  Clarke gave Walter a little pat and then stood up to leave for work.

  “I love you, man cat. I'm going to Lia's tonight, but I'll be home early.” She kissed his furry head. He sat up and his tail twitched with irritation. He made a point of turning his back to her, as if to imply he didn't see her anyway, so why would he care if she left? It was all a ruse though, he loved her.

  Sway had stayed as long as he had dared last night. Mike eventually called and asked where he was. Sway didn't mention being at Clarke's. He also agreed to keep it to himself that Ilsa was back, though that took a little more convincing.

  Clarke knew Mike enough to know that he wouldn't have been so happy to see Ilsa if he didn't truly believe she was a changed person. His elated smile filled her vision again and she tried to blink away the sting in her eyes that the memory brought with it.

  She'd never seen him that happy.

  Never.

  Clarke swallowed hard and slid her sunglasses onto her face. She just had to get through day one.

  She made it to the Land Rover, buckled the seatbelt, turned the key in the ignition, and began to back down the driveway. The CD player switched to the next track and piano filled the cabin.

  Clarke's chest compressed with new weight. Shaky fingers pushed the AM/FM button, cutting off the song Mike had recorded while she had watched. Talk radio replaced the soulful melody and Clarke bit her bottom lip lightly.

  Where the hell was Greta? She could really use her friend right about now.

&nbs
p; ***

  “Tell me another story about your sister.” Mike said into the quiet of the hotel suite. Ilsa had left hours ago. He had no idea where she was, and part of him didn't care. She'd started to disappear more often and instead of being suspicious, like he knew he should've been, he was mostly relieved.

  The guys had gone out. They invited him, but he just wasn't up for it. Literally. He was enjoying the soft pillows of the sofa and the muted lighting in his room. It was quiet. It was hardly ever quiet. He liked that.

  “What do you wanna know?” Paul asked.

  Paul had stopped by his room after the show. Mike wanted to believe that the guy wanted to be his friend, but he knew that the kid was probably worried about his well being. He was getting harder to fool. Though sometimes it looked like curiosity. Like hell if Mike was going to let him indulge like that, though. It was one thing for Mike, who knew what he was doing.

  Paul was good and clean and right. Mike was willing to fight to keep him that way.

  “If she's as great as you claim she is, how come she doesn't have a man?” Mike took a long drag from his cigarette.

  It was a question that had been digging at him for some time now. Paul's sister was an enigma; beautiful, free-spirited, gentle, kind, passionate. He knew so much about her, without ever having met her or even seen a photo. She could be make-believe for all he knew. Sometimes he did play make-believe with the idea of her. When he was alone and couldn't sleep at night, he would let himself wonder what it would feel like to be loved quietly. Would he feel clean? Would the darkness retreat?

  “She's waiting for the right guy, I suspect,” Paul answered slowly.

  “Maybe I'm that guy,” Mike said out loud, even though he didn't intend to.

  “Maybe you are.”

  Mike craned his neck around to look at his friend. Paul was studying his cigarette, his face contemplative.

  “You'd have to get clean first,” Paul muttered, resting his cigarette in his lips and standing up.

  “I could do that,” Mike said without thinking.

  Paul chuckled and went to the door that led out to the balcony. “And Ilsa would have to be gone.” He opened the door and went outside.