“What is this, like a math game?” he asked, trying to push those unpleasant thoughts away and concentrate on getting to know his son. And Bobby nodded his head. “You like math?”
“Yeah,” the child nodded. “Math's fun. But sometimes it's hard.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Buz agreed. “You want to show me how to play the game?”
He handed the device back to him, and he listened, completely fascinated as the little boy explained the rules of the game to him. He couldn't concentrate much on the game itself though because he was way too busy memorizing every tiny detail about his son. He was amazing. And so beautiful and smart. And he had this great, rollicking laugh that Buzzy found totally contagious.
They spent the rest of the afternoon holed up in the kid's bedroom, just goofing around. They clicked immediately, talking at length about such heavy topics as Bobby's favorite school subjects, who his friends were, which girls at school were gross and which ones were just lame. They talked about which sports were cool, and they debated over who was more powerful – Iron Man or Thor. And they both agreed that Thor could probably take Captain America in an even fight if neither one of them had their hammer or shield respectively. Bobby showed him all of his favorite toys, and they built a fort between the bed and the dresser, and they sat under it playing UNO and Guess Who.
Buzzy had great fun spending so much time with him. But as they were building the fort with the blankets from Bobby's bed, he couldn't help but notice once again how run down the house seemed. There were multiple water stains on the ceiling where the roof had leaked, and all the walls looked as if they could use a fresh coat or two of paint. The carpet in the living room and here in Bobby's room was the same carpet Buzzy remembered from eight years ago, and it could all stand a good shampoo. Or to be completely replaced. They didn't have nice things, Buz noted, and much of the furniture here in Bobby's room appeared to be second hand. But the house itself was neat and clean. It was simply dated and worn. Sort of like the tires on Janie's car. As if she had been too busy keeping the roof over their heads and food on the table to worry about patching the many holes or keeping up with what was in fashion. She was obviously struggling a little bit to keep things afloat.
The thought irritated him once more as he wondered again about why she hadn't simply asked him for a little help. Why hadn't she told him about Bobby? If he had known that he was a father he would have done all he could to take care of his son. To take care of her. That was all he had ever wanted after all. Just to take care of her and to make her happy. Why had she denied him that?
“Hey, what's this?” Buz asked, pulling out a small three-ring binder that sat on the bookshelf. The binder was white and it had a colorful child's drawing on the front of it. Buzzy squinted his eyes trying to make out what the picture on the front was supposed to be, but the words 'Bobby the Dinosaur Boy' were printed at the top in crayon.
“That's one of my Bobby books,” Bobby said as if it were common knowledge.
“Bobby books?” Buz frowned.
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Mom writes them for me. I have lots of them. See?” he said, pointing to the book shelf and pulling out six more binders, each of them with a colorful child's drawing on the front. There was 'Bobby Battles the Barnyard,' 'Bobby Visits the Doctor,' 'Bobby Goes on a Hayride,' and several others still sitting on the shelves.
“Your mom wrote these?” Buzzy asked with a small smile.
“Mmm hmm. She used to write them all the time, but she doesn't do it anymore. Now all she does is work all the time,” Bobby said with that cute pout of his.
Buz was astonished as he opened up the binder in his hands and began reading. It was a fully developed and completed children's book, all about a little boy named Bobby who loved dinosaurs so much that he wanted to be one, and Buzzy smiled as he flipped through it. The pages had been printed off a computer, not handwritten, and there were two more children's drawings inside to illustrate the story.
“Did you draw the pictures?” he asked, looking at Bobby, and the boy nodded his head with a smile. “This is amazing. Can I read the others too?”
“Yeah,” the boy smiled.
Buz gathered up all the small binders – twelve in all – and took them into the fort, and the two of them sat and went through each book together, one by one. The stories were all very imaginative and engaging, and each of them had a message to impart or a lesson to be learned. And they were all illustrated by the charming crayon drawings of a child. His child.
The books were really incredible, and Buz was amazed at Janie's writing talent. He had read things that she had written back when they were in school, and he knew that she was a great writer, but for some reason this collection of children's stories made a big impact on him. And he wondered if that was because they made him feel as though he were learning a little bit about the parts of his son's childhood that he had missed.
They were lying on their backs in the fort when Buzzy heard Janie's phone ringing in the other room, and he suddenly realized that it had rang a few times since he had been in Bobby's room. And each time, Janie refused to answer it.
“Something smells really good,” he said as his stomach began to growl.
“Mom's a really good cook,” Bobby said.
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. And when they looked out from beneath their fort, Janie was standing in the doorway with a small smile on her face as she examined their handiwork. She looked at Buzzy with astonishment as she said, “Dinner's ready.”
“Look, mom! Mr. West showed me how to build a fort,” Bobby exclaimed.
“I can see that,” she smiled as Buz crawled out and stood up.
“I'm sorry. I'll help him put his bed back together after dinner,” he said quietly.
“It's okay,” she replied timidly. “He's clearly had a great time.”
“So have I,” Buzzy smiled, looking back at Bobby as he crawled out of the fort.
“Go get washed up for dinner, okay?” she said to him.
“Okay. Come on Mr. West,” he said, grabbing Buzzy by the hand and taking him completely by surprise.
He laughed and looked back at Janie as he was being pulled out of the room. “We're going to wash up for dinner, I guess,” he smiled.
Janie couldn't help but smile back at him. Bobby had obviously taken an immediate liking to him, and Robby seemed genuinely pleased by that. What had she done, keeping them apart? Why had she believed that Robby not knowing the truth would be the best thing for any of them?
She sighed as she left the bedroom and headed back to the kitchen. She went about setting three places at the table with chopsticks and spoons and glasses of juice, and then she ventured out to the living room to check on Robby's bodyguard once more. The large gentleman had steadfastly refused to join them in the kitchen, asking only for a sandwich and something to drink, and Janie had told him to feel free to make use of the television and the bathroom while he was there. She couldn't imagine what it must be like for him, forced to listen in on private conversations while remaining mute and invisible. And she couldn't imagine what it must be like for Robby either, needing a bodyguard. Sometimes she still couldn't believe how successful he had become. She set a sandwich, chips and soda on the coffee table for Shawn and smiled shyly when he thanked her.
Back in the kitchen, she grabbed three bowls from the cupboard and began filling them with rice. Then she added an assortment of julienned and sautéed vegetables – zucchini, carrots, mushrooms, spinach and bean sprouts, to each bowl, making sure to place them in such a fashion as to make the colors visually appealing. She added some sliced, cooked beef and a large dollop of chili pepper paste to each bowl, and then topped them all with an over easy, delicately fried egg.
She was placing the bowls on the table when Robby and Bobby finally made their way into the kitchen amid a plethora of giggles. She looked up to see that Bobby was slung over his father's shoulder so that the child's feet were da
ngling in mid-air as he laughed uncontrollably. And the look on Robby's face was one of pure, unadulterated joy. Janie smiled broadly at the scene before she suddenly burst into quiet tears, quickly turning away from them and moving toward the sink.
Buzzy's bright smile morphed into concern as he gently set Bobby on his feet. He wanted to go to her, to make sure she was alright. But he suspected that she would probably just push him away. He moved toward the table instead, taking a seat across from Bobby as he continued to watch her. Then he looked at the bowl in front of him in shocked silence for a moment.
“Bibimbap?” he asked softly.
Janie pulled herself together and joined them at the table, taking a seat between them. She smiled timidly at Robby's astonished voice. “Well, I'm sure it won't be nearly as good as my uncle's or my mom's, but … you sounded almost nostalgic for it the other day, so …” Her voice trailed off self-consciously as she shrugged her shoulders.
Buzzy's eyes met hers and he smiled at her for a moment. “Thank you,” he said softly.
“You're welcome,” she smiled.
He held her gaze for several seconds before Bobby began chattering away about the fort they had built in his bedroom. And he tried to pay attention to what the child was saying, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering frantically what was going through Janie's mind at that moment. He tore himself away from her eyes and turned his attention to the delicious smelling food in front of him, mixing his rice and vegetables carefully with his chopsticks.
“Here, let me help you with that, sweetie,” Janie said, reaching over with her own chopsticks to make sure Bobby's bowl of mixed riced was well blended before the child began eating.
“You should come play in the fort with us, Mom. It's really neat!” Bobby said as he took up his spoon and dived into his bowl.
“I'm sure it is,” Janie smiled as she finally turned to her own food.
They ate in silence for a few minutes – or, in as much silence as Bobby would allow. The child chattered on happily about the fort and the games he and Mr. West had played in his room as Buz and Janie listened and stole shy, careful glances at one another as they ate. And Janie could feel that old familiar pull in the pit of her belly whenever their gazes would collide for a few seconds. He was still so freaking handsome. Those pretty-boy good looks were all still there, and Janie's heart fluttered as she watched him.
When there was finally a lull in Bobby's conversation, Buz looked at Janie anxiously. “This is delicious, Janie. It is every bit as good as your mom's,” he said quietly, stuffing another spoonful into his mouth.
She smiled almost bashfully at him. “You don't have to say that,” she said.
“I'm just being honest,” he smiled. “This is great. Thank you.”
“I told you Mom was a good cook,” Bobby smiled. Then out of the blue, the kid suddenly asked, “Why does your friend eat in the other room? Why doesn't he eat in here with us?”
“Well, Shawn isn't really my friend,” Buzzy explained. “He sort of works for me.”
“He does?”
“Mmm hmm. And he stays in the other room to give me some privacy,” Buz said as he took another spoonful of his mixed rice.
“What does he do?” Bobby asked.
“Well, he's my bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard!” The kid's voice was full of surprise, and Buzzy couldn't help but chuckle.
“Yep.”
“Why do you need one of those?”
“Um, well …”
“Mr. West is a famous man, Bobby,” Janie spoke up.
Bobby looked at his mom with wide, disbelieving eyes. Then he looked back at Buzzy. “You're famous?” his little voice asked in wonder.
Buzzy laughed slightly. “Um … just a little bit,” he shrugged, feeling apprehensive about telling Bobby this for some reason.
“Mr. West is the drummer in a very popular rock band, honey,” Janie continued to explain.
“You are?”
“Yes, I am,” he smiled.
“What's the name of your band?” he asked, now greatly intrigued.
“Have you ever heard of Jagged Ivory?” Buzzy asked.
The kid nodded his head eagerly. “I'll be rockin' you, rockin' you! Every night!” His voice was excited as he sang part of the chorus from one of Jagged Ivory's biggest hits. “That song has cool drums in it at the end. Is that you?”
Buzzy smiled bigger than he ever thought was possible at the kid's mention of the drum solo at the end of the song, and he nodded his head as he watched the excitement in the boy's eyes. “Yeah, that's me. You like the drums?”
“Yeah, drums are cool! And Mom loves that band,” he exclaimed. “I mean, your band. She listens to them all the time, right, Mom?”
Buz's eyebrows shot straight up at that piece of information, and he slowly looked over at Janie. “Does she?”
Janie looked completely embarrassed to have been outed by her son as Robby stared at her.
“Yeah. Sometimes she turns the music up really loud, and she dances around,” Bobby offered.
Buzzy smiled at the boy's words as an image of Janie dancing flashed through his mind. He used to love to watch her dance. It was always so sexy, and she was so good at it. But back in high school it was something she refused to do in front of other people because she was always so shy and self-conscious. It was always a real treat when he could get her to dance for him.
“I'd like to see that,” he said quietly as he stared at her. And she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. “Thanks for the support.”
“You're welcome.”
They finished their dinner with light conversation about music and Buzzy's bandmates as Janie continued to ignore her ringing cellphone. And afterwards, Bobby pulled out a Jagged Ivory CD case and examined the cover picture, asking who each of the guys were. He suddenly wanted to know all about them and what instruments they played. And as he told Bobby all about his band of brothers, his own cellphone suddenly sprang to life, indicating that he had a new text message.
Buzzy, what's going on, man? Any progress? We're all sitting here wondering and hoping for the best.
The text was from Otis. And Buz smiled as he read it because he knew that it was sincere. The guys were probably all gathered in Benji's hotel room, playing video games and talking about Buzzy's dilemma.
“Who is Buzzy?” Bobby asked, leaning into him and reading his text. Buz laughed at his nosiness.
“Do you always read other people's texts?” he smiled.
“Bobby,” Janie admonished as she cleared the table.
“Sorry,” he pouted.
“It's okay,” Buz smiled, running his hand over the top of the boy's head. “And Buzzy is me. That's what my friend's call me.”
“Oh.” Bobby's voice was soft as he watched his new friend reply to his text.
Just had dinner with Janie and Bobby. He's so awesome! Hung out with him all afternoon. This kid is amazing! Still doesn't know who I am yet. Still need to talk to J about things. Thanks for the good thoughts.
“What is this a picture of?” Bobby suddenly asked, running his fingers over the large tattoo on Buzzy's forearm.
Buz held out his arm so that the entire tat was visible. “That is a picture of my two great loves,” he answered honestly.
“Are these drumsticks?” the child asked.
“Yep,” Buz confirmed.
“Because you love the drums?”
“That's right.”
“These are the flowers we have on our porch,” Bobby said, still examining the tattoo.
Buzzy thought about the pots of calibrachoa Janie was watering when he showed up yesterday and slowly nodded his head. She had always loved those little flowers. “Yeah, they are,” he said quietly.
“You love flowers?” the boy asked.
Buz hesitated a moment as he met the child's questioning gaze. He had gotten this tattoo in Virginia, shortly after leaving town when Janie had broken up with him. He had pulled a pict
ure of the flowers out of a magazine and taken it to the tattoo parlor with him so the artist would get them just right. He hadn't wanted just any flowers on his arm. They had to be perfect.
“I love what the flowers represent,” he said quietly, suddenly feeling his heart beating faster.
“What do they represent?”
Again, Buz hesitated. And his eyes drifted up to where Janie stood. Her back was to them, but he could see her listening.
She was trying to busy herself with cleaning up the kitchen, but she couldn't help but overhear their conversation, and she tried not to show that she was hanging on their every word. As they talked she had stolen a couple of glances at the tattoo on Robby's arm. Drumsticks entwined with a vine of tiny flowers. Bobby was right. They were all very bright and colorful, just like the pots of 'million bells' on her porch.
“Someone special,” he finally said. “They represent someone very important to me.”
“Who?” Bobby asked innocently.
“Okay, Bobby,” Janie said, turning from her task at the sink. “It's getting near bedtime, you know?”
“Mom,” he whined as he protested. “Can't I please talk to Mr. West some more?” he begged with a serious expression on his little face. As though spending time with Buzzy was suddenly extremely important to him.
The look in his eyes was so pleading and innocent, and Janie simply didn't want to deny him access to Robby any more than she already had. She felt so guilty. “Just for a little while longer,” she said, giving in. “But then you must get ready for bed, okay?”
“How about I go with you?” Buz offered, putting his phone away. “I promised your mom I'd help you put your bed back together anyway.”
“And you can tuck me in,” Bobby suggested.
“I would love to tuck you in.” Buz smiled.
Chapter Seven
Buzzy listened as Bobby prattled on, never missing a beat as he talked about the band and the fort as they worked to dismantle it and remake his bed. And when they were finished and Bobby had brushed his teeth and gotten into his pajamas, Buz smiled at him as he climbed into the bed and slipped beneath the covers.
The Essential Jagged Ivory (Jagged Ivory Boxed Set) Page 65
