Behind the Bars

by Brittainy Cherry

  “This looks more than midlist, Ray.”

  He smiled. “It pays off when you connect with the right record company who doesn’t want to morph you into something you’re not and they still give you enough to buy a decent apartment. Come on, you can have the master bedroom.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not taking the master bedroom.”

  “Snow, come on, I was just…” His words faded away as he turned to look at me. He crossed his arms and gave me a goofy grin.

  “What is it?”

  His eyes glassed over, and he placed his hands behind his neck. “You’re just so grown up, that’s all.”

  I shifted around in my shoes and shook my head. “Ray, don’t make me cry. I’ve done way too much crying lately.”

  He nodded and sniffled a little. “It’s just…I’m so fucking happy you’re here.”

  I agreed. “Me too.”

  He grabbed the handles of my luggage and started back down the hallway. “But you’re taking the master bedroom—no ifs, ands, or buts.”

  I tried to disagree, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. The moment we walked into the room, I couldn’t even fight the tears. On the bed were six cards and six gift boxes wrapped in gold paper with silver bows.

  “What’s this?” I asked him.

  He nudged me in the arm. “I missed six birthdays, so those are your six gifts.”

  “Oh, Ray,” I murmured, pulling him into another hug, and this time, crying into his T-shirt. “Thank you, for everything—for the gifts, the room, for taking me in.”

  He smirked and kissed my forehead. “Welcome home, Snow. I’ll let you get some rest.”

  Home.

  It’d been so long since I’d seen home.

  I sat down on the bed and opened each card first, my heart swelling as I read the words. Each card had a picture of Snow White on it, and inside were words he’d written to me over the past six years, wishing me a happy birthday, telling me how he wished he could be there to celebrate with me.

  As I opened the gifts, I realized they all went together. The first box held a charm bracelet, and the following five held the charms—a microphone, a heart, a music note, a snowflake, and the letter J. I put all the charms on the bracelet and then placed it on my wrist.

  Ray was always there for me, even when he wasn’t physically there. During my years with Mama, he told me I’d always be able to call on him when I needed him the most, and when I reached my breaking point, when I needed a place to run to, I ran to him and the only city that had ever felt like home.

  I didn’t unpack a single thing from my suitcases. All I did was open them up, grab pajamas, and crawl straight into bed. As I closed my eyes, I allowed my battered heart to rest for the first time in a long time. I didn’t overthink my life, my current situation, or anything. I gave myself a much-needed break. I climbed into bed, closed my eyes, and went to sleep.

  I’d forgotten how good it felt, allowing my mind to rest.

  I awakened the next morning with sunbeams dancing through the windows, warming my arms. I jumped up, feeling on edge for a moment in the unfamiliar surroundings. I rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes then let out a sigh of relief.

  I’m okay. I’m home.

  My stomach growled the moment my nose smelled burnt bacon. I pulled myself from the bed and wandered into the kitchen, where Ray was failing at making breakfast.

  “What are you doing?” I laughed, watching him flip already ruined pancakes.

  He turned around to see me, his face covered in pancake batter, and I couldn’t stop giggling.

  “You look awful. This smells awful.”

  He snickered. “I just wanted to cook you a ‘welcome home’ breakfast.”

  I walked over and picked up the burnt bacon. “And you sure did cook the hell out of it.” I bit into the bacon and grimaced. “How about welcome home beignets at Café Du Monde?” I offered.

  The sigh of relief that escaped his mouth was so entertaining. “Yes! Beignets are a much better welcome home, anyway, but before we dive deeper into this celebration…” He nudged me over to the living room and we went to sit down. “Has your mom called you?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Emailed?”

  “No…”

  He sighed. “What happened exactly?”

  “Well, I told her I couldn’t take it anymore. I told her I couldn’t take the way I was being treated and said I wanted to come back here.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said I couldn’t go. She told me we were so close to the breakthrough. Then I begged her.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I begged her to come back with me, to leave Trevor. I told her we could start all over and build a life for ourselves.”

  “What did she say?”

  I nervously snickered and bit my bottom lip. “She said I was the greatest disappointment of her life and if she could…” I let out a breath. If I could go back in time, I would’ve never had you. Her words echoed in the back of my mind as I tried my best to shake them off. “She told me to have a good life,” I lied. “And I told her to do the same.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It’s better this way.”

  “But I know how much you wanted her to...be something she’s not. I know how hard you tried to build that relationship.”

  I gave him a bright smile, trying to ease his sadness over mine. “It’s really okay. Yeah, I wanted to build that relationship, and I tried. I gave it my all, but it wasn’t enough. I’ve come to terms with it. I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked with hesitation.

  “One hundred percent certain.”

  “Well, just know you got me, and I’m in it for the long run. Always and forever.”

  “Always and forever,” I murmured, at him. “I cannot thank you enough, ya know, for everything you’ve done for me throughout my whole life. It takes a special kind of person to take on another man’s kid.”

  “Being related by blood doesn’t make someone family, Snow White. Love does that.”

  “I love you, Dad,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest.

  His eyes glassed over, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You called me Dad.”

  “That’s who you are.”

  “I love you, too, Daughter. One more thing…” He grimaced as his eyebrows knit, and he clasped his hands together. “I gotta ask you something that’s hard for me, Snow, and I need you to tell me the truth. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Did anyone ever hurt you? Did anyone in the industry ever take advantage of you?”

  “Ray, come on.”

  “I’m serious, Jasmine. Did anyone ever…?” His eyes were filled with fear as he asked me the question.

  I reached out and squeezed his hand. “Only with their words. Sometimes they’d touch my lower back or try to put me in demeaning clothes, but nothing worse than that.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  The relief that left his body was intense. “Good, but I swear to God, if I ever come near anyone who made you feel lesser or touched you in any way…I’ll murder them.”

  “My hero.” I laughed. “But really, Ray, I’m okay,” I swore. “I’m home now.”

  We headed over to Café Du Monde down in the French Quarter, and as we sat down, we just kept staring at one another, smiling. “I’m real proud of you, ya know,” Ray told me as a plate of beignets was delivered to our table. Powdered sugar went everywhere as we dived in. “For taking care of yourself, finally, for walking away when you needed to.”

  “I should’ve walked years ago.”

  He shrugged. “The timing’s only right when the timing’s right.”

  Oh, Dad, how I missed you.

  “So,” he said, shoving more beignets into his mouth. “Tell me everything about you that I’ve missed.”

  I chuckled. “We talk all the time.”

&nb
sp; “I know, but it’s different having you here, in person. It’s just…” He leaned back in his chair in awe. “You’re just so grown up. It’s crazy how much I’ve missed.”

  He didn’t know the half of it.

  We sat talking and talking over the beignets and coffee. The conversation came effortlessly, and words just rolled off our tongues. Ray was one of those people who made you feel loved just by the way he spoke to you, as if you were the only person he cared about. What I missed most was the way he talked about music, the way his eyes glowed bright when it came to discussing the studio, the fans, and the lyrics of his songs, the way it lit him up inside. Ray’s lover was music, and when he spoke of it, he spoke in the sweetest melodies.

  “Oh, by the way, you have a job.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “I got you a job at Eve, the rhythm and blues club. You can work as a waitress, and whenever you’re up for it, you have the stage to sing.”

  I shook my head. “Why would they hire me without knowing me? They don’t even know if I can sing.”

  “Yeah, but they trust me. I used to perform there before my career shifted. You’ll love it. Mia is the owner and one of the best humans in the world. I vouched for you. You start on Monday.”

  “You’re too much good.”

  He laughed and shrugged. “You’re not lying. I just hate that I have to catch a flight back to Los Angeles tonight,” he said as he paid the bill and dusted powdered sugar from his shirt. He was supposed to be with the band as we spoke, but when I’d called him, he’d promised to be there for me when I got back. I knew we wouldn’t have much time to spend together, seeing how he was currently on tour for the next few months, so I treasured every moment he gave me.

  “It’s really okay,” I promised. “You’ve gone above and beyond with everything. I cannot tha—”

  “If you thank me one more time, I’ll dump all of this sugar on you. Snow White, I’m always here for you, no matter what, because that’s what family does. We show up.”

  We stood up and started walking down the streets of the French Quarter. I’d forgotten how much I loved it, the life and energy of New Orleans, from the voodoo shops to the voodoo donuts, from the random human ‘statues’ on Bourbon Street to the live music at all hours.

  It felt good to be back, felt right.

  “So, we have all day before I gotta get to the airport. Any requests on what you want to do?”

  “Well…” My hand wrapped around the key necklace I hadn’t taken off for the past six years. The key a shy boy had given me years back still rested against my skin. “There is one thing.”

  “Here we are,” Ray said, pulling up to the house on the corner of Maplewood and Chase. My heart was in my throat as I stared at the red brick home with a freshly mowed lawn and a large oak tree out in front, the branches filled with vibrant green leaves. Ray reached out and touched my shoulder. “You sure you want to do this? Six years is a long time. A lot can change, Snow.”

  I nodded. “I know, but still if I don’t find out what happened, it will eat at me every day.”

  I climbed out of the passenger seat of the car and headed up to the front porch. Birds danced along the street, singing their songs of freedom as my heart remained chained to the memories of the boy who’d once seen me.

  My fist hovered over the door as my mind battled my soul. My mind told me to run away and leave the past in the past, while my soul reminded me of Elliott Adams.

  My heart pounded as I imagined what he’d look like. Was he still the nerdy, skinny boy with thin-framed round glasses? Did he still have his stutter? Did he still smile so gently that his dimple only showed a little bit?

  I finally built up the courage I needed and knocked on the door. Then I waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  I glanced back at Ray, who was staring my way with a frown on his lips.

  When no one answered, my heart dropped into my gut. I shrugged toward Ray, and started walking back to the car. Just then, I heard the door creak open. “Hello?”

  I spun around, my body filling with hope, but it quickly vanished when an older Caucasian gentleman opened the door. “Can I help you?” he asked.

  I gave him a tight smile and cleared my throat. “Hi, yeah. I was actually, um, I, well…” My voice was shaking, along with my hands, and the words wouldn’t form at all. I only took a breath when I felt Ray’s hands on my shoulders, giving me comfort.

  “Hi, I’m Ray, and this is my daughter Jasmine. She used to have a friend who lived here. We were wondering if you might know him. Elliott…” Ray looked my way for the last name.

  “Adams,” I said, still shaking.

  The older gentleman lowered his brows and shook his head. “I’m sorry, the last family that lived here moved over five years ago. I’ve been here ever since.”

  My heart…it broke.

  “Do you, um, do you have any idea what might have happened to them? Or where they went?” I asked.

  He frowned, rubbing his hand over his bald head. “I’m sorry, no.”

  “It’s okay,” Ray said, shaking the guy’s hand. “Thanks for your time.”

  “I wish I could’ve been more helpful,” he told us.

  “You’ve done more than enough,” Ray replied, giving him a smile.

  He walked me back to the car and opened the passenger door for me to climb inside. He shut the door, then hurried over to his side of the car and hopped in. “I’m sorry, Snow.”

  “It’s fine, no worries.”

  “Are you okay?”

  I laughed. “Of course.” I shook my head back and forth and gave him a big smile. “It was a long shot anyway. I just had to try.”

  We drove back to the apartment and hung out until it was time for Ray to head to the airport.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” I asked.

  He smirked and cringed. “You’ve been driving on the wrong side of the road for the past six years—I think I’ll take my chances with a taxi.” He hugged me tight. “Anything you need, though, you call me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He walked into the hallway then called back to me. “And, Snow?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re in New Orleans, one of the best places in the world to redefine yourself, to rediscover yourself. Go find the music. Go find your soul.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jasmine

  Later that night, I put on a pair of jeans, a black shirt, and a leather jacket. I was going to do exactly what Ray had advised me to do: I was going to go searching for my soul.

  I went to see my favorite parts of the city—well, not my favorite parts, my favorite part.

  I walked down Frenchmen Street and filled my lungs with New Orleans air. I traveled down the alleyway behind the bars and allowed myself to remember as the music from inside filled my ears.

  There was such a peacefulness about those bars, that alleyway.

  It used to be home to me, my safe haven.

  I closed the dumpster and climbed on top, like we used to do. The sky was cloudy, and even though I couldn’t see a single star, I began to count them, because I knew they were there, just like I knew somewhere out there, a boy named Elliott still existed.

  I thought about him often…only every single day for the past six years.

  I always felt silly letting Elliott still exist in my memories. It had been ages since I’d last seen him, since he’d last written me, but still, I kept the key he’d given me around my neck. So you know you always have a home to come back to.

  I didn’t have a clue why I kept it after all these years. For protection? For memories? For pain? For hope? I didn’t know, but during some lonely, dark nights, it was that key that kept me going. It was the reminder of a time when things were good.

  It was a reminder that maybe someday things could be good again.

  So, whenever he did run across my mind, I’d wish for our paths
to cross again. I’d selfishly ask the universe to do whatever it took to bring Elliott back into my life. I wanted to see him by any means, just for the knowledge that he was doing better than I was.

  Where had he and his family ended up? I knew I was no one he needed in his life. I was so far from the girl he once knew, but still…I wondered about those eyes and who they stared at each night.

  I prayed for my personal gain. I wished and hoped for his hazel eyes to somehow, someway, lock with mine. I just needed to see the man he’d become, even if only for a moment’s time. I wondered about his music and whose ears heard his sounds. I wondered if he was happy.

  I hoped and prayed he was.

  After a little too much time living in my memories, I stood up from the dumpster and headed to Frenchmen Street. There were dozens of people out that night, the same way the streets had been packed when I was a teenager. People were shouting, dancing, and loving on the energy.

  When I heard a saxophone, chills raced down my spine. I turned on my heels and started in the direction the sound was coming from. My mind was racing as I took off in a bit of a jog toward the sound that seemed so familiar to me. The sounds were leading me to the corner.

  To our corner.

  To the place where I’d sung my soul and Elliott had played his heartstrings.

  The sound was splendid, surreal, and I was out of breath when I reached the corner. Still, he wasn’t there.

  An older man stood on the corner playing music, and he played as if his life depended on it. A crowd had formed around him, cheering him on.

  I began to choke up. While I listened to his notes cry into the air, I tried to compose myself.

  Stop it, Jasmine, I warned myself. You’re being ridiculous.

  But I couldn’t help it. His music was beautiful. I just wished it were coming from another person. I hated myself in that moment for the way I remembered.

  Why would I miss a boy who never wrote me back?

  Why did I care after all this time?

  I sat down on the curb as the older gentleman played the saxophone. He played it so well. He went to war on the instrument, making love to every note. He performed like the music was his source of oxygen. He played as if it were the last time he’d ever play again. He left his soul on the battleground of music, and he owned his story.