The Fall Of Sky

by Alexia Purdy

  “When are you coming back?” The ever pressing question I failed to hold in.

  He squirmed in his chair, appearing restless, tired with a tiny air of annoyance.

  “I told you, I don’t know. I’ll let you know when it changes. Otherwise, I don’t know why you even bother to ask.” His accent grew stronger when he was down south, making him sound even more irritated than he appeared to be.

  I tried to not let it upset me. I nervously reached up toward my ear and fiddled with the small earbud, like I was having a hard time deciphering what he was saying. I wasn’t. My nerves were shot, and I was as restless as he was.

  “You been okay? You look worn out,” I asked, leaning forward to get a better look at him.

  He did the same whilst scratching the back of his head. Some of his longer locks swept into his eyes before he resumed his previous positon and shoved them back like a nuisance.

  “I’m fine. It’s the ranch work that needs to be done, keeping me fit here and exhausted. Can’t sit for a moment and slack off. The handlers are brutal here. I have to participate in the daily chores of the ranch if I’m to keep the respect of my men. Things aren’t just given here. One must earn the respect, and I’d be looked down upon if I just sat around all day. Much unlike what most Americans believe.”

  My blood ignited, and the slow burn that ached for me to give him a taste of my thoughts about his opinions on certain things remained stilted. I couldn’t yell at him here, not in public, though I was seething at his subjective opinion on Americans. I barely got to speak to him let alone ruin our relationship over his broody attitude. It was all fatigue induced. That had to be it.

  “We’re still working on recording the second album, but this break has been really nice for all of us. It rains here a lot, and it’s quite cold. I never thought I’d hate the rain, but sometimes, I just want to see the sun so it can warm my frozen fingers.” I paused, noting his deepened golden brown tan as he listened. “You probably see more than enough sun down there. No vitamin D shortage, right?” I laughed, but it came out hollow, stunted.

  He gave me a short nod and a miniscule smile. I could hear voices again through the earphones, interrupting our solace.

  “Emilio, te necesitamos. Vamonos!” A woman’s voice echoed into the microphone, and Emilio waved them off. He looked more than annoyed. He looked downright angry.

  “Ya voy. Ya te dije!” he snapped at the woman and whatever group accompanied her. Falling footsteps hurried out of the room, leaving Emilio huffing like a primed bull.

  “Look, Liv. I got to go. Things need to be tended to here on the ranch as well as some other places here. I’ll call you next week, same time.”

  “Emilio—wait—I…” But he’d closed the laptop and the line went dead. The screen went dark, Emilio long gone, but I was still there, staring at the dark square pop up window on the laptop as a single tear dropped down my cheek.

  It was such a short call. They’d been getting shorter every week. Every single time, I had managed to get to some sort of café where the internet was least likely to be monitored by Jonas to call Emilio via my laptop or smartphone. Every week, he had some sort of excuse to cut our conversation short.

  He was slipping away, faster and faster than fine sand through my fingers. Still, I wanted to hold on even more. This fatal combination was not good for either of us, and I was afraid that one week, he wouldn’t answer my call at all.

  What then? What happened if Emilio never came back?

  “Time to go.”

  Lonzo stood before me, observing my teary eyes before glancing at the darkened screen. He reached over, pulled out a napkin and handed it to me, then gently shut my laptop. Lifting it up, he propped it to his side. “Come on, Liv. Time to go back to the real world.”

  I didn’t reply, but accepted his free hand to rise to my feet. I followed behind him, leaving the bustle of the café behind as we spilled out into the busy Los Angeles streets. He led me to his SUV, the windows darkened so much, no one could see any of its insides. Slipping into the passenger side, he handed over my laptop and swiftly shut the door behind him before heading around to the driver’s seat. He was still employed as security detail and was stuck with me most of the time since Audrey didn’t go out much but I did.

  Lonzo knew what was going on. His best friend was Emilio, and if he knew anything else about Emilio’s absence, he wasn’t telling me shit.

  It was nice to know I couldn’t count on him with matters of Emilio.

  “Where to, Miss Westing?” He was all business, a cold exterior that made me wonder if there was anything underneath it. Most likely not. He was as blank as a white sheet of paper and hard as rock. Just as well. I didn’t need any more complications.

  “The hotel is fine,” I mumbled weakly, still stuck in my own grief. Glancing over to him, I saw him give me a tiny nod before he started the car. When he looked away, it dawned on me how much I took him for granted. I never thanked him or asked him to take me anywhere politely. My manners had disappeared, and I didn’t like who I’d become the last few months.

  I reached over and placed a hand on his arm. “And Lonzo?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for helping me.”

  He flicked his eyes toward my hand, his dark brown eyes narrowing pensively, but he didn’t shake it off. Instead, he gave me another quick, curt nod before facing forward and maneuvering the SUV onto the road.

  “You’re welcome, Miss Westing.”

  I let go of him and turned to stare out the window as the rain began to pour down. The sky had been holding it in as thick, grey clouds above our heads for days, and it chose on and off to eventually dump its buckets of cold, icy rain down onto the streets of the city. I didn’t mind at this moment. It matched my glum mood.

  As we pulled up to the hotel, the bellhop headed over to cover me with an umbrella. I loved being catered to like this and threw him a tiny smile. His white teeth flashed as he grinned back. Before I stepped away, I turned back to grab my laptop.

  “Another thing, Miss Westing?” Lonzo leaned to the side, digging his dark, cold eyes into me.

  “Yes, Lonzo?” My fingers curled around the computer as I waited.

  “You need to get away from them. Both of them. Do what you have to, but neither of them are who you think they are. Don’t drag this on. It will only get worse.”

  I swallowed down the dry knot forming in my throat as I threw back a shaky nod, scooping up my laptop. I stared into the impenetrable wall of his eyes, finding no sympathy. Stepping away, I let the bellhop shut the door behind me before swinging around and marching up the steps into the hotel.

  Lonzo’s scathing words of warning stung in the back of my mind more than anything. They twisted and turned in my head as I swept past families and an odd couple or two crowded at the front desk waiting to check in, some with clothes soaked to their britches. No one gave me a second’s notice. Their eyes looked right through me as I passed them by—an afterthought, no more than a stranger rushing by.

  Jumping into an empty elevator, I held my breath until the doors slid closed and I could finally let the tears burning holes in my eye sockets pour out and spill a river down my flushed cheeks.

  I was so fucked and I knew it. I’d been screwed for a long time coming.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Audrey

  I pulled my jeans on, feeling out of sorts. An unrelenting headache taunted me for three days, and it was really killing my mood. But that wasn’t the worst part. No, of course there had to be more to it. Life couldn’t be simple, ever. I was late. Again.

  Running the brush through my long, bronzy brown strands, I stared at my reflection without make up. My skin was pale. I’d been sick on and off from a severe stomach flu or something for a week now. I had my suspicions about pregnancy, but after the last miscarriage, I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. It’d broken me emotionally, and I didn’t want to go through it again. The disappointment, the depress
ion it caused to know I’d lost the baby was the worst thing I’d gone through in my life. I prayed I wouldn’t have to go through the same heartache again.

  But I had other worries to include alongside the old ones. I didn’t know who the father was.

  Shit.

  Letting out a slow breath, I glared at myself. How stupid could I be? I’d been with both Saul and Random around the time it would’ve happened…if I had the dates right. Never had I been so careless, and I was left with a hollow pit in my stomach that made me want to puke as the panic wafted in and out.

  “What’s the plan today?” Saul’s voice drifted in from the restroom. It was deep and resonating, like listening to a sweet baritone singing.

  “Oh, you know, going to get my annual doctor’s checkup.” I feigned a smile as Saul leaned on the doorway to the bathroom, grinning at me. His faded blue eyes appeared to watch me, even though I knew he couldn’t see the distress on my face. His slender yet muscular body was half dressed, showing off his wide chest that I could never stop admiring. He had soft covering of light hair I loved running my fingers through. There was nothing but a gentile love and adoration pouring from him, and it only made me feel more like the traitor that I was.

  “Want me to go with you?” He scratched his light brown hair which he’d let grow longer since we’d been on tour. I liked it this way, scruffy and wild, though it often fell into his eyes and was a bit unruly. It gave his pristine appearance some gruff, a most desirable trait. Plus, he thought it would be good for the “rock ‘n roll” image.

  “No, it’s okay. Stay here. I don’t think the OB/GYN office would be fun for you.”

  “Audrey.” He reached out and grasped onto my waist, pulling me gently into his embrace. I faced away from him, letting him snuggle my neck with warm kisses. Letting out a blissful sigh, I let it relax me as much as it could. “I’d go anywhere with you. You know that.”

  His tongue did sensual things to me—deep, captivating things which only he could accomplish.

  “Thank you, but…it’s kind of a girl thing.” I turned and cupped his face, feeling the rough sandpaper stubble on his otherwise smooth face. “Really, I’ll be alright.”

  His pensive eyes made me gulp down my fear, glad he couldn’t see the worry plastered across my face. I hoped my voice didn’t shake enough for him to catch on to me. There was a certain benefit to his blindness, even though there was little I could hide from his heightened senses.

  “Alright. If you need anything, just call. I’m heading to the gym in the upper floors. Lonzo is going to spot me.”

  I smiled. “That’s great. Have fun, Hon.”

  He gave my booty a slight tap with his hand, grinning wickedly as I swatted him away. I heard him leave a few minutes later, quietly locking the door behind him.

  I missed him already. He was such a good man, and it made me feel cruddy once more to know how epically I’d messed up. What would he do if he knew I was pregnant and that I’d cheated on him? Would he stay? Would he leave? What if the baby wasn’t his? All these questions plagued my head, causing it to tense enough for me to require a head massage. I kneaded my fingers though my scalp before running my brush though the tangles. Done, I tossed it across the counter and went to pull my shoes on.

  Nothing I could do about anything now. Best to keep mum about things, for worrying couldn’t possibly benefit anyone now. I could possibly lose the baby again. Nothing to worry about really.

  As I left the motel to walk to the nearby doctor’s office, my confidence built itself back up brick by brick. Everything will be okay, I told myself. Either way, I’d have to deal with the consequences, good or bad. There was no other choice.

  As I sat in the waiting room, I continued to attempt to convince myself that the sky wasn’t falling.

  But it was, and I could feel the pieces smacking into my head from above.

  Denial at its best.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Liz

  The rain slapped turbulently against the windows where I sat on the edge of my bed, strumming my guitar. My melancholy mood plagued me into a somber space I couldn’t shake off. I’d been here before, in this melancholy place I often sought out when my mind was a jumbled mess and my heart was in splinters. Things were out of control, and I never saw it coming.

  Feeling the twang of strings under my fingers as I played my heart out, I let the hollow of the guitar vibrate the last chord until I couldn’t hear it anymore. The notes drowned into some oblivion I wished to slip into, and I wanted to follow it more than anything right now.

  “Fuck!” I yelled out into the emptiness of my hotel room. Well, it was more of a tiny studio apartment the record company was paying for while I stayed in the city for a couple weeks. Audrey and Saul had their own place down the hall, close enough to bother if need be, far enough away to garner some peace in my turbulent mind.

  I slid to the ground and rested the guitar on the shag carpet that must’ve been vacuumed a thousand times, for its ends were all twisted like tiny little dreadlocks. Running my fingers through it, I wanted to rip out the threads and toss them away. But I didn’t. I could barely sit perfectly still, unable to breathe in too deeply for fear it might wake up my senses and force me to face the hot mess of my life.

  I was pregnant. Positive about it. A woman didn’t need a doctor to tell her these things, though I’d picked up a test at the corner shop to verify it for myself. The two lines were undeniable, and I promptly tossed the plastic stick carelessly into the tiny waste receptacle in the hotel bathroom.

  What now? What was I going to do now?

  I groaned and ran my hands violently through my long, wild locks. I needed a trim; they were unruly and riddled with split ends. Even my black nail polish sat chipped and ragged on my short nails. I was makeup free, but there was nowhere to go anyway, so I didn’t bother putting any on. We were on break for a solid two weeks. No recording, no shows. Just as well. We needed it.

  Crawling toward the window sill which spanned the length of the wall along one side of the apartment, I leaned against the cool glass, watching the sheeting rain pour down onto the fire escape and the streets below. It was the worst time to visit this vibrant city; the weather was skewed, and frankly, I was surprised they even let us hole down here at all. The expense for two miniscule studios was still a small fortune in this city. New York City in late winter was a miserable hell in the weather department, but it should’ve been more exciting to be here, regardless.

  Tomorrow, I’d go outside. Maybe then the rain would take a break so I could wander the streets, listen to the street performers, buy some new threads, or maybe see a show. I always wanted to visit here, and it beckoned to me. Heck, it was still early enough, if the rain let up later in the afternoon, I was going to check out a bar down the street. It looked like a hip joint from the way it was always busy when we drove past it.

  I needed to shake these blues away, get some excitement going, since the lack of adrenaline from doing our performances was starting to leave me aching for a hit of something. I wasn’t one to sit still in one place for too long. I needed out of this cage before I lost my mind.

  Keeping my thoughts off Emilio, Jonas, and this pregnancy was difficult. It was going to take that and more to keep me from losing my mind. There had to be decent distractions available around here. The sooner, the better.

  This was no place to be cooped up forever.

  Closing my eyes, I listened to the melancholy drumming of raindrops splashing the exterior of the building. I could hear lyrics inside my brain aching to get out. Times like these wreaked havoc on my mental health, and the process of writing it out in lyrics and songs was therapeutic. I sighed and took one more glance out the window. There was nothing to do but move on. Keep going. Keep singing.

  I reached for my guitar, pulling my sound equipment along with it to sit near me, and leaned against the window. I tweaked a few knobs and hit buttons on the mini drum pad. Beginning with a slow bea
t to cycle through, I let the low vibration fill me up. Next, I set up my microphone so it crouched level with my mouth. I pulled the guitar strap over my head again and began to strum out chords. Hitting the record button, I sang a note into the mike, letting it drag on until it faded, before thumping the pad once more. Turning more knobs to get duplicate tracks running, I added more background vocals this way, synchronizing the music along with interchanging beats.

  It was time consuming at first, but once all the instruments were going and the recorded vocals harmonized in an endless loop, I started the song I’d been haunted by for days, already written out in my ever constant companion of a notebook.

  “Nothing stays the same

  No one ever does

  And the bitter face you own

  While you say you never have

  Doesn’t cover the lies you’ve told

  I’ve held your hand

  Kissed your wounds

  For I’d kill for you

  This I do willingly for you

  Drown in this river

  I would for you

  Sing until the notes run out

  Just for you

  There’s no one else but me for you

  But you don’t think that way

  How else do I prove this love to you?

  When you just walked away?”

  I paused, letting the beat continue without me. My background vocals echoed and haunted the apartment as they bounced across the walls and hit me like a gun shot. I let my mind wander to Emilio as I bobbed my head to the beat. The bastard hadn’t returned my calls this week. Sure, I’d called him at a time other than the agreed upon one, but I needed to talk to him. Maybe I’d tell him about the pregnancy. How could he profess his love and say he missed me when he didn’t even answer his phone? He could, I just knew it. But he didn’t.