Untitled

by Jackie Chanel

  “I can’t help it,” I complained. “I’m bored.”

  “Sunny will be here in an hour,” Delilah reminded me again. “Can we at least wait until she gets here? I don’t want to get all the way to Rabbit’s just to leave ten minutes later.”

  I can’t believe that Sunny is moving back to Atlanta. I bet she can’t believe it either. She surely didn’t expect to walk in on her fiancé and some Knicks dancer having sex on her pool table. I’m surprised that she’s not in jail for bashing them both upside the head with the eight ball.

  She got her revenge though, from what I heard. She waited until he went to practice and had a serious open house. For three hours, people walked through their apartment, buying anything that they wanted. She gave the leftover stuff to Goodwill and the Salvation Army.

  Xavier came home to an empty apartment and Sunny was gone. A week later, she called and told me she found an apartment in Atlanta and asked if she could stay with me until it’s ready.

  “You think Sunny’s still pissed off?” Delilah asked me. I shrugged my shoulders.

  “I haven’t talked to her in a few days. But I’m sure she is. She was going to marry that guy.”

  “I don’t think she was going to ever marry him,” Delilah commented. “She doesn’t seem like the type to marry her rebound guy.”

  “Rebound guy?” I raised my eyebrows. “Who was she rebounding from? Gavin?”

  “Isn’t Xavier the guy that she started dating after you guys slept together?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like we had a relationship or anything. She wasn’t rebounding from me.”

  “You keep telling yourself that,” Delilah got up from the couch and walked to her room. A few minutes later, I heard her giggling on the phone.

  Delilah’s laptop was sitting on the table so I decided to surf the Internet. Delilah had been working on a “To-Do” list so I saved it for her but something caught my eye before I closed the document.

  From the looks of her list, Delilah is planning on going to New Orleans. I should have known she’d want to go down there. When Hurricane Katrina hit, Delilah stayed glued to CNN and any other news program that she could find. She wanted to get down there right away to help out, but it was too soon and too dangerous. Now it looks like she’s already planning her trip.

  “Dee-Lee,” I called. “What’s this on your laptop?”

  “Mind your own business, Aiden,” she yelled back. “Use your own computer!”

  I sat the small computer to the side and walked into her room. She was sitting on the bed, cross legged and braiding her hair.

  “Are you going to New Orleans?”

  “Yes. Sunny and I are going after Christmas. You should come. It’ll do you some good to be somewhere else than Atlanta or Los Angeles.”

  “I’ll pass,” I answered.

  Delilah frowned. “Why? Are you scared you might break a nail or something? Those poor people down there need all the help we can give them. Do something for someone else for a change.”

  “I don’t think so, Dee-Lee.”

  “Again...why? Because there isn’t going to be a camera crew following you around? I’m telling you, Aiden, you could really make a difference down there. They still need volunteers to clean up the city and build houses. Come with us.”

  “No,” I repeated. “There’s too much sadness down there right now. My head isn’t in the right place to be surrounded by all of that. I gave Red Cross twenty thousand dollars.”

  “So! Do you think any of the people who actually need that money will ever see a dime of it?” Delilah’s voice was filled with anger. “Because they won’t. People lost everything, Aiden. Everything! They don’t have anywhere to live.”

  “I understand that, Dee-Lee. I’m not unsympathetic to what’s going on down there. I just don’t think I need to be there. Who are you and Sunny going with anyway?”

  “I met this girl down at Rabbit’s last week. She’s one of the new cooks. She came up here from New Orleans after the flood. She wants to go home but she can’t. So a group of us are going down there with her and see if there’s anything we can do to get her house fixed.”

  I know the girl that she’s talking about. Her name is Keisha. She’s a good cook, but she always looks like she’s going to burst into tears any minute. I thought Jo-Jo was just being hard on her. I had no idea that she was from New Orleans.

  “How are you and Sunny going to help this girl fix her house? Neither one of you know anything about building houses or fixing them, for that matter.”

  “I said group, didn’t I?” Delilah fired back. “I have connections.”

  “You don’t have any house building connections,” I laughed.

  “You don’t know what I have,” she snapped. “It’s all in who you know, Aiden. You know that. I know a lot of people.”

  When Delilah picked up her phone again, I knew that this conversation is over...for now. She will try again, but I’m not going.

  We had only been home from Rabbit's for a couple hours before I heard my bedroom door creep open and Sunny ease into the dark room. She sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Are you sleeping?” she whispered.

  “Not yet. What's up?”

  “I can't sleep.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Sunny shook her head, indicating that she didn’t want to talk about whatever is bothering her. I noticed that she kept looking at her now ringless left hand. Tears slowly ran down her face. In my moonlit bedroom, the trail of tears glistened on her face. She did nothing to hide the fact that her heart hurts.

  I hate to see her like this. The fact that anyone hurt Sunny infuriates me. I want to kill that lame ass French ballplayer.

  “Sunny,” I said softly.

  “Huh?” she whimpered.

  “Come here.”

  Sunny slid into my arms and laid with me while I rubbed her back. She didn’t speak nor did she stop crying until she eventually fell asleep. I stared at the girl with her head on my chest, scorn and scarred. Her face is so innocent, so soft, so beautiful. How could anyone fall asleep next to her one night and wake up the next morning and break her heart? I couldn’t.

  I wish some of what makes Sunny such a beautiful person had rubbed off on Ramey. Even after I threatened her with a lawsuit, she’s still taking shit about me and holding up our divorce.

  Mediation was a complete waste of time. We didn’t resolve anything. No matter what I say, she’s still being ridiculous with her demands. Since neither of us can agree on the settlement terms, we now have to appear in court...again. Our next hearing is in January. I’m so tired of the back and forth with this girl! Ramey just doesn’t give up. I thought that once I exposed her for the lying gold-digger that she is, she would shut up. I was wrong. I only awakened a much ballsier and mouthier beast.

  I can’t worry about that. What Sunny is going through ranks higher on my list of concerns than my soon to be ex-wife. Sunny is going through something much worse than a trivial divorce. She’s hurting and she needs me. This time she needs me to be there for her to ease her pain. I don’t care what any tabloid says or how Ramey feels; I’m going to do that.

  ****

  “Aiden,” Delilah grumbled, “if you’re not going to help me pack, can you please get out of the way?”

  I looked at what looked like hundreds of piles of clothes strewn about the living room.

  “Doesn’t seem like you’re packing anything,” I answered. “Looks like you’re just throwing clothes around the floor. Your suitcase is empty.”

  I got out of her way before she started yelling and went into my room instead. Sunny was in her usual spot, lying in the middle of my bed, staring at the ceiling.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she answered. She’s been saying that for two weeks but everyone one can see that she’s not.

  “Are you hungry? Want to go get something to eat?”

  “I ate already.”

  I looked at
my watch. Sunny had eaten two slices of toast six hours ago. I understand that she’s depressed, but even sad people get hungry.

  “Come on,” I urged. “You’re leaving tomorrow. Can I at least take you to dinner? I won’t be seeing you again for at least a month.”

  “You wouldn’t be feeling all sentimental if you were coming with us,” Sunny mumbled.

  We’ve been through this a dozen times. My physical therapist being here in Atlanta apparently is not a good enough reason for me to stay home. Yes, I can walk but I still have a few more months of therapy before I’m back to my old self again.

  Personally, I don’t think that New Orleans is the right place for Sunny either. As depressed as she is, she needs to be somewhere where she can have a little fun, like a beach or something. What she needs is a girls' weekend in Cabo, not rebuilding houses in a flood damaged and equally depressing city.

  Sunny sat up on the bed. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed deeply.

  “Aiden, please.”

  “Please what?” I answered.

  “Please come with us.”

  “I can’t,” I told her. “I have to finish therapy and help Joey and Roxy put together our tour.”

  “I know,” Sunny sighed again. “What if Kim comes with us so you can continue your therapy? And Joey...what if he came too?”

  “Sunny, I can’t ask people to just come to New Orleans on a whim.”

  “I need you, Aiden,” Sunny’s voice was so low that I could barely hear her.

  “What?”

  “I can’t do this by myself. I can’t sit alone in my hotel room every night thinking about what that bastard did to me. I can’t be around so much despair and sadness, with only Delilah’s happy-go-lucky ass to keep me company. I need you, my best friend, there. Please come with us.”

  How can I say no to that? How can I let her go to New Orleans alone, feeling the way she does? I can’t.

  “Alright, I’ll go,” I relented.

  “You’ll go?”

  I nodded. I don’t want to but I don’t have a choice. I have to be there for Sunny. I have to.

  “Yeah, I’ll come with you.”

  Sunny whooped and jumped off the bed and into my arms. She caught me off balanced and we fell back onto the bed laughing.

  Sunny’s t-shirt rose slightly and I could see the hint of a new tattoo on the lower right side of her waist, almost by her hip. The waistband of her shorts covered it.

  “You got another tattoo?”

  Sunny pulled down her t-shirt, covering up her recent ink.

  “Show it to me.”

  “No,” she insisted. “It’s private.”

  “Come on! How private can a tattoo on your hip be? Let me see.” I tugged at her shirt. She wiggled away.

  I reached for her again. “Let me see.”

  “Leave me alone,” she squealed when I grabbed the back of her shirt. She tried crawling across the bed but I caught her.

  “Let me see!”

  “No,” she laughed.

  “Yes!” The more she protested and tried to get away from me, the more intrigued I became.

  “No,” she protested again but her resolve weakened as I pinned her to the bed.

  “Let me up, Aiden,” she giggled.

  “Show me the tattoo.”

  She wiggled and laughed underneath me. Her legs were flailing and for a second I thought she was going to knee me in the balls.

  “Stop,” I laughed. “You’re not getting up until you show me.”

  “You can’t make me,” she laughed. “Let me up.”

  Holding both of Sunny’s wrists above her head with one hand, I reached down with my free hand and slid down the waistband of her shorts revealing the tattoo. Sunny stopped moving.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  She didn’t answer as I stared at the elaborate artwork on Sunny’s hip. I recognized it immediately. Surrounded by Sunny’s two favorite things, stars and blue butterflies, were my three guitars. The design was a direct copy of one of the pictures in my CD insert, so detailed that Keith Richards’ autograph was clearly visible. It had to have taken hours and a hell of a lot of pain to get such an elaborate tattoo. Why’d she do that?

  I ran my fingers over the tattoo and Sunny trembled under my touch. The tattoo wasn’t brand new. It had to be a few months old since it was completely healed and smooth when I touched it.

  “Those are my guitars,” I muttered. Sunny stayed silent but her chest heaved as she took deep breaths.

  I think tattoos on girls are so sexy, especially when they’re in discreet places. This tattoo is beyond sexy. So is the woman whose hip it’s permanently inked on.

  “Why’d you do this?” I asked. I couldn’t take my eyes off the ink.

  “You know why,” Sunny replied softly. “You know exactly why.”

  Unable to resist, I slid the waistband down further and brushed my lips across Sunny’s hips. She gasped.

  “Aiden...” she whispered.

  I kissed her hips again and looked at her. I slipped off my own t-shirt.

  “Look,” I whispered.

  Sunny touched the two day old ink on my chest. When Mike and I had gone to get new tattoos, I didn’t know what the hell I wanted to get as my fourth tat. When I saw the black sun, I was instantly drawn to it. Something just told me I needed that, a black sun over my heart.

  “Beautiful,” Sunny whispered.

  “It’s you,” I replied.

  “I know.”

  I touched her tattoo. “This is me.”

  She nodded.

  I lowered my head and kissed her forehead. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me closer. I felt the heat emitting from between her legs – the thin cotton of her shorts did nothing to help – and any inhibition I once had melted away. I started to kiss her. Once I started, I couldn’t stop.

  “You’re married,” Sunny whispered as she eased my jeans off.

  “My wife is dead,” I replied.

  Sunny burst out laughing. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

  “Neither should you,” I told her. “Especially when I’ve got you in such a compromising position.”

  “Are you going to take advantage of me, Aiden?”

  “Yup.”

  I slid my hands under Sunny’s shorts and slid them down. We were both naked from the waist down and all I could think about was how good Sunny had felt the first and only time we had sex. It was over five years ago, yet the memory was still vivid. When Sunny shifted her hips, I slid inside her, ever so gently. I moaned and closed my eyes, consumed by the warmth.

  Sunny’s nails dug into my back as I thrust deeper inside her. She buried her head in my shoulder, stifling her moans when I cupped one of her breasts and flicked my tongue across her hardened nipple.

  “Jeez-us, Aiden,” she cried.

  We made love for what seemed like hours until Sunny grabbed my head and kissed me long and slow. I felt her liquid heat engulf me and I couldn’t hold back any longer. She whispered my name over and over while I trembled inside of her until we both lay on the bed, spent.

  “Damn, Aiden,” Sunny sighed breathlessly. “How long has it been since you had sex?”

  “Sex or good sex?”

  “Nevermind,” she answered and curled up against me.

  I waited for her to ask if we should have done that but she didn’t. We both drifted off to sleep. We woke up an hour later and put our clothes back on.

  Delilah was almost finished packing when Sunny and I walked out of my room.

  “I don’t even want to know what you guys were doing,” she said. “Are we going to dinner or what?”

  “We’re going,” I said.

  “And I bet you’re coming with us to New Orleans.”

  Sunny grinned mischievously. “Oh yes, he’s definitely coming.”

  Her sexual implication wasn’t missed.

  “Gross, Sunny,” Delilah groaned. “Really gross.”
/>   I laughed. “We’re all adults. Get over it.”

  She’d have to because tomorrow we’re going to New Orleans for at least a month and I expect a repeat performance...multiple performances. This might be my chance to finally take my relationship with Sunny to a new level.

  She’s single. I’m getting a divorce. I love her. I have for a long time. I’m ready to be with her the way she deserves.

  It’s about time.

  Chapter 46

  As soon as we arrived in New Orleans, I knew that we needed to do so much more than rebuild Keisha’s house. This city looks like a war torn third world country. Entire streets that were once lively and full of activity were now ghost towns.

  We’ve been here a month, helping rebuild Keisha’s house. We’re close to being done. There are just a few things left to be done inside the house, then she and her kids can move back in. It’s been a lot of hard work and some days, like today, I’ve come back to the hotel in a lot of pain, barely able to move. My pain is nothing compared to what these people are going through.

  The people I’ve met here are simply amazing. They are true fighters. The spirit of New Orleans can’t be broken because it lives within every single person who calls this place home.

  I was surprised to find so many fans here. I’ve only played here twice, but there are so many people here that know me and there are hundreds of jazz and blues musicians here that appreciate my music. I’m honored...truly honored.

  Last night, I met two local blues legends at a bar. Roy and Fat Cat sat with me at the hotel bar for hours, talking about what Katrina has done to the music scene in New Orleans. It was the most interesting conversation I’ve had in years. Pain or no pain, I had a blast last night.

  Sunny walked out of the bathroom of our suite and frowned at me.

  “Aiden, why aren’t you dressed? We’re going down to the restaurant in fifteen minutes. Plus people are waiting for us.”

  Sunny and Delilah have put together a sort of celebration dinner for Keisha, her family, and all of the people who helped with the rebuild. We’re supposed to be leaving in a few days; however, with so much more work to be done here, I’m not sure I’m ready to leave yet.