by L. B. Dunbar
Slipping out from under his protection, he tightened his hold on me, dragging me back to him in what I thought was his sleep.
“Where are you going?” he muttered, without even opening his eyes.
“Coffee,” I whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
He didn’t respond and I was convinced he just talked in his slumber. He needed the rest. He must have been drained from the emotions of yesterday, if his aggressive drum playing last night had been an indication. He looked peaceful at the moment and I took in his features. Beside the large body and shorn hairstyle, he had chiseled cheek bones beneath his constant thick stubble. His mouth was slightly pouting, demanding to be kissed, and his dark eyes, which I couldn’t see at the moment, I knew, were a rich chocolate color. He was strikingly good looking and any woman would look twice at him.
I helped myself to his kitchen, finding both the coffee maker simple to use and his coffee supply limited. He had a fancy brand, but the bag was nearing to the bottom and I made a mental note to replace it. Then I scolded myself and told myself to erase the note. I couldn’t get involved with Perkins Vale. I had other things to take care of, which did not include him.
As I waited for the coffee, I braced my hands on the island counter and let my mind drift over our non-kiss. He was hesitant with me, but he obviously responded to me. He was attracted to me, if for no other reason than I was female. He had a reputation, I knew. I’d researched him on the limited Internet at the shelter yesterday. Known to bring women to ecstasy without even touching them, I now knew firsthand how that was possible. He never really touched me last night, but I had been so fired up I was ready to combust. A pulsing energy throbbed through my middle as he slid his nose over my sensitive area above my shoulder and under my ear. Just thinking about that minimal contact had me tingling between my legs again, and I clenched my thighs in hopes to soothe the sensation.
I was so focused on my fantasy that I hadn’t noticed Perk exit his bedroom. His hand scanned my hip as he passed behind me and mumbled, “good morning,” stopping in front of the coffeemaker. Where his hand made contact on my hip left a trail of electricity that did nothing to squelch the burning desire between my thighs. I hung my head in frustration.
“You mentioned a mother last night,” he said, addressing the coffeemaker as if looking at it would make it work faster. “What about a father?”
I didn’t want to talk about my parents, but I gave into his question.
“My father died before I was born. I don’t know anything about him.”
“So your mother was single?”
It was an odd question.
“Yes.” I looked at him puzzled.
He turned in my direction after filling two cups and handing me one.
“My mother was a single parent, as well. My father died as you know.” He paused. “I was about three or four, I guess, when it happened. My dad was Alan Vale, as you know as well. When he died in that hotel room, my mother thought it best to get away. Out of the limelight, as she would say. It really wasn’t so much to protect us from the circus that followed, questioning what he was doing in that particular hotel room. What he was doing with so many drugs in his system. It was more to prevent us from discovering music. To keep us from the evils of it, as she called it.”
I didn’t need further details. It was well known that the famous lead singer for the Valentines had overdosed accidentally; in a hotel room he wasn’t supposed to be in on tour. It was rumored he left behind a young family that disappeared after his death.
“Who’s ‘us’?”
“Us?” he questioned.
“You just said to keep ‘us’ from music. Is it just you and your mom?” I implied that there was more to his family.
“I have a younger sister, Didraine.” He stopped, lost in a memory for a moment, before continuing his family history. “My mother took us to the woods around Lake Avalon, where we were homeschooled for years. It wasn’t until I was almost fourteen that she decided I should enter high school and meet kids my own age.”
I stiffened, for a moment, at the thought of him as a fourteen-year-old boy in the woods by Lake Avalon.
“She worried that kids would be a bad influence and introduce me to music before that time. Little did she know that kids were cruel, and I hadn’t been introduced to music by them. They had no influence on me whatsoever.”
“Why not?”
“It’s hard to be influenced, when you’re ignored.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” For all he had shared, it was evident he was done, and a thought occurred to me.
“I know what you’re doing,” I said, as I narrowed my eyes at him.
“What I’m doing?” His face showed his confusion.
“You’re telling me all this in hopes that I’ll open up to you. Share my story, as well.”
“I…I’m not doing that.”
“I’m not willing to share, though.”
He stared at me and the hurt in his eyes proved to me that I had been wrong. He was opening up to me simply to share his story. He was trusting me with it and I had just slammed him for it. I cleared my throat at the awkward silence and tried to change the subject.
“Want to tell me about Arturo?”
He seemed hesitant after he just opened up to me. I held his gaze, hoping he could read my apology and accept my invitation to talk.
“There isn’t much to say. You obviously know about the accident, but we don’t know more. His body has disappeared which is beyond strange. Our manager, Kaye Sirs, has been on the phone constantly, but Mure Linn, Arturo’s mentor, father-figure, protector, hasn’t responded to a single phone call. It’s like he’s disappeared too and it’s pissing people off. Guinevere is a mess and the rest of us don’t know what to do, but wait.”
“No body? That is weird. Did you try all the hospitals in the area?”
“Done.”
“What about medical centers? Specialty hospitals?”
“Done. Nothing.”
“Police department? There had to be a report. What happened?”
“We don’t know. He was under a viaduct and crashed. That’s all there is. A smashed bike. A splash of blood. No other clues; except the ones I could offer of the two guys chasing us. The police are investigating, but I don’t think I was helpful enough.”
His large body sagged against his counter and he hung his head, placing his hand over his hair in that soothing manner he has. I couldn’t help myself. I needed to comfort him. Stepping in front of him, I removed his coffee mug from his hand and placed it on the counter behind him. I took his large hands in my smaller ones, covering them the best I could. I had practice at this speech.
“Perk. Look at me.”
He obeyed and I almost lost my thought at the sadness in his eyes.
“This was not your fault. Do you understand? You did not hurt him. You did not cause the accident to happen.”
“If I wasn’t…He just demanded to help me. I was so focused on…I just…”
“Focused on what?”
His dark brown eyes met mine and I had the answer. He had been so focused on me that he let his best friend go. Guilt washed over his expression, and I felt the weight of his emotions. My heart sank a little, as I wanted to take that blame from him. It wasn’t his fault. It was mine.
“Perkins Vale, stop it. I will not let you blame yourself. If you have to blame someone, blame me.”
His eyes jolted up to mine again. “Never,” he hissed. We stood in frozen silence, gazes locked on one another for several moments. When Perk swallowed hard, my eyes fell to his lips and the spell was broken. I wanted to soothe him and I only knew one way. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem tempted by me, despite his attraction to me physically. I leaned toward him as if to kiss him, but he pulled back.
“Did you brush your teeth? You smell minty?”
I laughed. “Yes.”
“How?”
“I used your toothbrush,
like I did yesterday.”
His mouth fell open and I laughed harder. He was so shocked, but a slow smile spread on his lips. The tension of talking about his parents and Arturo seemed to drain out of him for a brief moment.
“I guess I better get you back to the shelter. Or do you have a job? I could drop you there.” He stopped abruptly and his face showed his concern. “I’m sorry. Was that rude to ask?”
“No, it’s fine. Taking me back to the shelter is fine.”
“I need to get back to Arturo’s,” he tried to explain, but there was no explanation needed.
We finished our coffees and Perk led me to his garage. He helped me on the bike after handing me a second helmet to wear. Speeding through the streets of New York on a busy sunny morning, compared little to the race we had through the darkened alleys only two nights ago. On this ride, I held on tightly around Perk’s waist without complaint. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on his hard abs and feel them under my palms again. I rested my head against his back, as best I could with the helmet, and pretended to myself that I was hugging him.
When we pulled up in front of the address I gave him, I knew immediately that he was taking in the surrounding area: the rundown buildings, the boarded place down the street, the pieces of garbage in front of the storefront next door.
“I don’t want to pry,” he hesitated, “but I hate the thought of you living here. You could stay at my place until you got your feet under you.”
It was sweet that he offered, but I was offended.
“Do you think I…What makes you think I need to get my feet under me?”
“Don’t you?”
I didn’t answer. I handed him back his helmet.
“Thanks for the ride, Perkins. Good luck today with Arturo.” It was a blatant dismissal of him.
“You’ll use my phone number, if you need anything. Right?”
I walked a few steps away from him and he continued.
“Like if you want to check up on me. You can just call,” his voice was hesitant.
“Why would I check up on you?” my voice bit.
“I don’t know. But you did last night,” his sheepish tone stabbed at my rudeness.
“And you didn’t like me stopping by to do that?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. As a matter of fact, I would say I loved that you stopped by to do that.” With that comment, he revved the engine and accelerated slowly in a U-turn before the scream of his bike took off down the desolate looking street.
The band in the forest ten years ago…meeting Kaye Sirs
[Perkins]
I entered Arturo’s home again to find the living room empty of everyone but Kaye Sirs.
“Hey,” I greeted him. Kaye looked exhausted, and a slight head nod was his only response.
“Anything new?” I asked, to which Kaye simply shook his head. I continued to look down at the man, who slipped his hands into his blond hair and tugged the short locks.
“Where is everyone?”
“Guinie finally laid down. Lansing went home. Tristan left for who knows where and who knows whom. I expect everyone back soon.”
“What about Ingrid?”
“She hasn’t come back.” Kaye appeared troubled at this response, and he looked toward the window at nothing particular.
I had a sudden flash of the blank face I’d seen on Kaye Sirs the first time we met.
Lansing Lotte had requested that I meet Arturo King after our first encounter by the side of the lake that summer, eleven years ago. Given an address and directions to Mure Linn’s home within the woods, I was making my way when I came across a toe-headed blond boy talking to a pretty girl. She wasn’t the girl I had seen the summers ago in that mysterious home I hadn’t been able to find again, but she was still looked nice. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her shorts showed off long tan legs. I noticed she had on dark lipstick, though, and black fingernails.
As I drew closer to the two, I realized they were in more of an argument than a conversation.
“What’s wrong with you? You always look so sad,” the boy accused.
“Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m just…fine.”
I had heard that word before. My sister, Didraine, used it often when our mother asked what was wrong with her. If I had to guess, it was the same thing I struggled with…school. The first year had been hard for me. The other kids were cruel. Deciding that I would attend school left Didraine alone with only our mother, and she began to beg to attend school also. Mother refused and Didraine had a perpetual unhappiness about her.
“I asked you a question a week ago and you still haven’t answered,” the boy’s voice was slightly condescending.
“What question, Kaye?” the girl responded, but her eyes averted him.
I felt guilty intruding on this awkward altercation, as I simply wanted to approach the home behind the couple, which I realized was the address given to me by Lansing. I advanced slower, not wanting to appear like I was eavesdropping. I didn’t have any real experience with girls. My only true encounter had been the girl in the forest, all those years ago, and I hadn’t been able to find her again.
“I asked you to go out with me. You haven’t answered yet,” Kaye softened his voice, a shyness creeping into his tone.
“Why do you want to go out with me, Kaye? You’re always picking on me at school. Calling me emo.”
“Well, you are. I mean; you are so dark. But we aren’t in the city and it’s summer. Let’s hang together.”
“Why? So you can blow me off when we get back to school in the fall? So you can tell all your friends you did things with me that you never did? I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
The girl tried to step around this Kaye kid when she noticed me.
“I’m sorry,” I stated. “I’m looking for Arturo King and I have this address as his home.”
“Who are you?” Kaye growled as he looked over his shoulder at me. When he turned his full body to face me, his eyes widened as he took in my size.
“I’m Perkins Vale.”
Kaye seemed to be waiting for more information, which I did not offer. Waiting out the awkward silence, my eyes met the girl’s dark brown ones over Kaye’s shoulder. She smiled slowly at me and I smiled in return.
Kaye’s facial expression gave away several emotions. Surprise. Puzzlement. Anger. He seemed to recognize that my smile had to be in response to something pleasant, and he turned on the girl to catch her grinning at me.
“Why would you smile for him?” Kaye demanded, as he reached out a hand and shoved the girl in the shoulder. She didn’t fall, but she stumbled backward with the force. I was immediately pulling back the smaller boy in anger.
“You don’t touch a girl like that,” I said, as I gripped his thin shoulders. The girl’s stunned face proved she was more shocked than physically hurt.
“Get off me,” Kaye whined.
“You’re a prick, Kaye,” the girl threw in his face. “I’ll never go out with you. Tell that to your friends in the city.”
She stormed away. We both watched her retreat down the gravel drive. Kaye shrugged his shoulders hard, pulling out of my grasp.
“You fucked that up for me, dude,” he accused.
“Looks to me like you fucked it up yourself,” I retorted.
The troubled appearance on Kaye’s face gave away his slow recognition that he might have made mistakes on his own.
“What did I say?”
“I think insulting her by calling her…emo…was that the word? Might have hurt her feelings.”
“What was I supposed to say? I was stating the truth.”
“Why didn’t you tell her she was pretty? That would have been another truth.”
Kaye’s eyes opened wide again in surprise and then shut down to anger.
“What do you know?”
“Nothing,” I answered honestly. “I just want to meet Arturo.”
“Well, he’s not h
ere at the moment. He went to Edgewater Park to find Reddington Knight.”
I shook my head to erase the memory. I didn’t want to remember Reddington, at the moment. Guinevere came down the hall from the bedroom she shared with Arturo. Tristan arrived in rare form, looking disheveled in his clothes from the day before, and Lansing arrived with coffee and bagels.
“Guinie? You need to try to eat something,” Lansing addressed her, his voice full of concern as he handed her a plain bagel. She declined and refused to look up at him. There was something odd about how the two of them were interacting with one another, but I couldn’t read what was different about them.
Tristan stood to head to the bar, while Lansing turned to me and offered the bag of breakfast options.
“Thanks.”
“Coffee?”
“I already had a few cups this morning. I’m good for the moment.”
“A few cups?” Tristan inquired. “Work out this morning?”
“Nope. I was busy.”
Tristan raised his eyebrows in a knowing glance.
“Oh yeah. With who?”
I didn’t answer, but I felt the heat on my face. Tristan had me.
“Who?” Tristan laughed softly, dragging out his question. “The girl from the other night?”
The room fell dead silent at the implication. They all knew that it was in escaping with Hollister that Arturo and I had separated. Tristan let the silence pass for a moment before he spoke again.
“She must be really special, two nights in a row with you,” he mocked.
They all knew that I never was with the same girl twice. I would leave with a girl, but I never saw them a second time. I didn’t date, as most of us didn’t until Arturo met Guinie. I didn’t have long standing relations like Tristan with his harem of followers.
“She…” I didn’t know how to respond.
“Leave him be,” Guinie admonished. She smiled softly at me with empty eyes. Her lake-blue glance drifted down to her outstretched hand. She stared at the giant diamond on her ring finger. She spread her fingers, flexing them open and closed several times, as her eyes remained on that sparkling spectacle. Lansing looked away, but Tristan wrapped an arm around her. It wasn’t affection he was offering, but comfort. Without a glance at him, she leaned against his side as his hand slowly traced a circle on her upper arm. Tristan had a bottle of Jack between his thighs, and he raised it by the neck to take a long pull.
