by J M Wolf
Adam giggled through the phone. “Of course she doesn’t know how to keep her mouth closed. She can’t keep anything closed, including her legs. How do you think she ended up having me?”
“Gross,” I groaned, and I swear I could have gagged on the spot. “I don’t need that mental image in my head.”
Adam cackled like a hyena. It was nearly impossible for me not to join him. Adam’s laugh and free spirit were contagious. It was one thing I admired him for.
When Adam’s laughter died down his tone grew more serious, which was a rare occurrence because other than his music and career, he rarely took anything seriously. “Seriously, Bluejay, are you sure you’re okay?”
I nodded even though Adam couldn’t see it. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Who was the freak that was harassing you? My mom said you told her it was someone you knew back in school.”
I debated telling Adam the truth about our demented and obsessive professor. Adam was the one person I told everything to, along with Damian when he was still around. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Adam; in fact, he was one of the few people I did trust with my life, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. My embarrassment over the choices I’d made always got the better of me.
“It…it was just some guy I was seeing while we attended Julliard. It’s nobody you know,” I lied and hated myself for how weak I’d become.
“Wait a damn moment. Pause, and rewind. You were fucking with some guy and didn’t tell me about it? I don’t know which to do first; grill you for the juicy details or stomp my sexy boots up your ass for not telling me!”
I rolled my eyes at the mental picture of my best friend gasping with his hand over his heart like the drama queen he was before throwing a hissy fit.
“Oh please, you wouldn’t hurt me. You love me too much,” I retorted with a smirk.
“Oh honey, I love my baby blue to pieces, but I will still cut a bitch for keeping secrets, and you damn well know it.”
God I missed his sassy ass. “Hey, if you want juicy details I have some involving Gerard.”
Adam gasped. “Tell me everything!”
So I did. I told Adam about our dinner date and about my meltdown. Adam called me a diva for that, which I ignored because if anything, he was the real diva. I also told Adam about me walking into Gerard’s room and that I ended up falling asleep in the man’s arms. I just finished telling him about what happened when we woke up when Adam could no longer keep quiet.
“You had sex with Gerard?” Adam gasped.
My forehead creased at that. “Not technically.”
“What do you mean by not technically. Did you, or did you not get freaky dicky with your daddy’s man?”
“Well, we fooled around, but…well,” I hesitated because it was embarrassing talking about my sex life or lack thereof.
“Well, what? Tell me!” Adam pressed.
“He…never went inside me,” I said making it sound more like a question.
“What?” Adam screamed, and I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “You got down and freaky with the stud, and you didn’t let him put his king size dick in your ass? What the fuck is wrong with you? Have I taught you nothing? Oh, where did I go wrong?”
I took back my earlier thoughts. I didn’t miss his sassy ass. In fact, I wanted to pretend I didn’t know him.
“What the hell are you talking about? You haven’t taught me a damn thing,” I shot back.
“Babydoll please, did you forget how many times I plowed my man meat up that plumpy little ass of yours? I sure as hell taught you many things about having an orgy.”
I groaned, “I regret ever giving you my virginity.”
“No you don’t,” Adam shot back. “As much as you cried out my name, begging me to hurry up, to give you relief, and begging for more. You sure as hell don’t regret it.”
“What did I ever see in you?”
“You saw that I was the best thing that ever happened to you. Your life would be boring without me.”
That much was possibly true. With Adam, there never was a dull moment for anybody involved in his madness. Now he got to share his excitement with people all over the world thanks to his music. Something I hoped to do one day.
Bringing the subject back to Gerard, I said, “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt this way about anybody before.”
Serious Adam rose back to the surface. “Do you love him?”
Love. That word formed a knot in my throat. Did I love Gerard? How could I when he and I barely knew each other? How could I, when in a week, he’d be leaving? How could I when he loved my dad, despite my dad no longer being with him?
“No,” I mumbled. “I don’t think I love Gerard, but I do like him, Adam. I like him a lot.”
“Do you think he feels the same?”
“I think so.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I sighed. “What if I do fall in love with him? What then? He leaves in a week, Adam. What if once he leaves we drift apart?”
“Have you talked to Gerard about you guys’ relationship yet?”
“No,” I said solemnly.
“Why?”
“We haven’t gotten around to it.”
“You better talk to him about it, Bluejay. Don’t be stupid. Gerard is obviously the best thing to have ever happened to you, and if you fail to grasp it while you still can, you'll never be able to forgive yourself.”
I knew Adam was right. What if Gerard was the love of my life, or had the potential to be him? Would I risk not finding out because of fear, or because he was my father’s first? I kept hesitating and second guessing myself, but where had that gotten me? I couldn’t do that anymore.
“I got to go, Adam,” I whispered.
“Okay,” Adam replied. “I’ll be back in town Friday for the memorial.”
“Thanks, bud.”
“Hey, Bluejay?”
“Yeah?”
“Come to my last concert on Wednesday in New York. Bring Gerard with you. I want to meet him, and I want to see how you are with him.”
I hesitated before answering. Since Adam got his singing career, I hadn’t been to a single show of his. It mostly had to do with trying to put the music dream I once had behind me. I knew Adam wanted me to attend to show him support. I felt bad for not fully congratulating him on his big achievement, but I wasn’t sure about bringing Gerard with me. Having my best friend meet my potential hope for a boyfriend was a big step.
“I don’t know, Adam,” I said.
“Jace, I want you to be at my concert. I’m not taking no for an answer. And you better bring Mr. Big Stuff to the show with you.”
I huffed out a breath because I knew I wasn’t going to win this debate. It wasn’t in Adam’s nature to give in, but it sure as hell was in mine.
“Fine,” I said sounding agitated.
“Great! Make sure you wear something sexy!” Adam said sounding giddy with excitement.
I chuckled. “Yes, Adam Love. I promise to look like I belong in your posse.”
“You better!”
I was about to hang up when Adam called my name again.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Talk to him, Bluejay. You have between now and my concert to talk to him. Make sure you do.”
I smiled. “I will. Have a great show tonight. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Jace. That means a lot coming from you.”
I hung up after that then fell back in my bed staring up at the ceiling. My life was a fucking mess. I thought when I graduated high school my life would grow and I would do amazing things with it. Instead, my life cracked up in the center, and everything around it fell into the deepest part of despair like a fissure. Adam was right about one thing. There was a chance Gerard Ramhart could be the best thing to happen to me in this time of utter chaos.
Thinking about Gerard also got me thinking about the situation he and I now found ourselves in. Everyone kept telling me
to talk to the man, and I knew they were right. We were never going to be able to move forward unless we discussed all the obstacles in front of us and figured out what to do about them. He seemed to be willing to talk about them too, but I could also see the hesitancy in his eyes. I’m pretty sure his mind was on the same rollercoaster as mine.
Lastly on the list of clusterfucks in my life, was Brett. What was it about me that he simply couldn’t leave me alone? What in the world made him think that I’d go with him since, according to him, I belonged with him. I’d never go back to the fucked up life I was living with him. I’d rather die than be his puppet again.
Would I ever be free from him? Would I ever be saved? Saved from being his puppet?
My eyes widened when a lightbulb went off in my head. When those last questions came to me, I began to hear music playing in my mind. My brow furrowed as I repeated the last question. Can I be saved from being his puppet? I kept repeating that over in my head while the imaginary music played with the words. My smile was growing wider when I realized what was happening. I was creating song lyrics.
I sat up in my bed then turned to my left, staring at my old music producing equipment. My keyboard, my drum and studio mixer, my microphone. They all sat on my desk by my window collecting dust. I hadn’t touched my equipment since my dad died. There was a tune I was working on that week before Desiree and I got the call about Dad. I began trying to sing the lyrics I was coming up with to the same tune, and found that they matched.
Curiously, I got up off the bed and walked to my old equipment, wiping the dust off them with my hands. I grabbed my laptop and placed it right in the center before turning everything on again. After waiting for all my stuff to boot up, I opened up my files to see if I had saved the music. I grinned when I realized I had. I hit play and closed my eyes as the old tune vibrated through my bedroom.
I bobbed my head to the beat and began mouthing words that were coming to me. Lyrics. I hit pause and ran downstairs to the garage. I started rummaging through my boxes until I found my old song book. Jackpot. Going back upstairs, I hit the play button and began forming a new song.
The next couple of hours were spent with my headphones on. I shuffled between my song book, to my keyboard, to my mixer, and my laptop. I was knee deep in the song trying to get everything right. When I felt the music was ready, it was time to record the audio. I pulled out my microphone with the isolation shield attached and plugged it in. I took a deep breath, hit play and began to sing.
The feeling of singing after not doing so for so long was uplifting. It was like falling in love all over again. Once I bellowed out the first few notes, my eyes shut, and I let myself get lost in the feeling. Just as I had with Gerard the night before, I opened myself up letting the emotions spill out of me.
Everything poured out of me with this song. My frustrations about Brett, not wanting to be his puppet, wanting to be saved, wanting to break free. I let it all be known. Real music held a message. It told a story. This song, Puppet, was my story. The story about a man who enjoyed controlling me and molding me to fit his wants, but I refused to let him dictate me ever again. This was my first step in moving forward with my life and leaving the past behind me.
When the song ended, and I felt my body sag in fatigue, I pulled the headphones off and took a deep breath. For the first time in almost a year, I wrote a song. I finished a new song. I was writing again. I couldn’t stop the smile that was splitting my face even if I wanted to. I didn’t want to stop smiling. I was able to create music again.
The sound of clapping caused me to jump in surprise, and I looked to my right. Gerard was standing outside my bedroom. He wore a small grin, but in his eyes, I could see the knowledge of what I was singing burning inside them. He heard my song. He heard my feelings.
“Wow, you have an amazing voice,” Gerard said calmly.
I was too stunned to make any remark about him eavesdropping while I was tucked away in my bedroom, so I just said a simple, “Thanks.”
Gerard stepped inside my room and wrapped his arms around me. God, he smelled so good. Like musk, and man, and…was that lavender? Probably from using my soap. Gerard brought his head forward to mine, taking my mouth in his. I willingly opened up for him because I enjoyed the feel of Gerard claiming my mouth as his. I wanted to be his. I never wanted this feeling to end.
Gerard pulled away and I whined in protest. Chuckling, Gerard gave me a quick peck before looking me in the eyes.
“Did you write that?” he whispered softly.
I nodded.
“You’re very talented.”
I beamed with pride. “Thank you.”
His face darkened, and I knew what was coming. “I also remember you telling me that your music tells a story.”
I nodded.
“If that was your story and you were someone’s puppet, who’s the guy pulling your strings?”
Gerard
Jace’s song haunted me. When Desiree and I stepped inside with the groceries, she and I both froze at the loud music playing upstairs.
Desiree’s brow creased as she listened more carefully. So did I for that matter. Then, I heard what I thought sounded like singing. Desiree gasped with wide eyes as she slowly turned to face me.
I looked at her just as shocked. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I think Jace is singing,” she responded, not bothering to hide the excitement in her voice. “He’s working on his music again.”
I set the bags of groceries I carried on the counter before taking the stairs two at a time, following the music. I stopped in front of Jace’s bedroom door hearing him sing his heart out on the other side. I slowly turned the knob and opened the door. Jace was on his feet in front of a microphone, headphones on, but the music was blasting in full volume. His eyes were squeezed shut and his voice was powerful. I listened intently to the words he was singing.
I want to cut the strings you used to tie my wings,
Because I’ve been your puppet for far too long.
I’m done playing your games; it’s time to leave the stage.
Because I’ve been your puppet for far too long.
When will I be saved, saved, saved, saved?
I want to be saved, saved, saved, saved from being your puppet.
You know you’re good at entertaining.
I wear your bruises as proof. What can I do?
You’ve modeled me as your perfect man.
Your charm’s illusional. Delusional.
Bile rose up my throat at the words he cried out through the microphone. His song was about pain and crying for help. Help from who? Who was he singing about? I had to know.
When he finished, I clapped my hands in congratulations for being able to work his craft once again. He was stunned to see me, but I calmed him with a kiss. Then, I asked the question I wanted to know the answer to.
“If that was your story and you were you’re someone’s puppet, who’s the guy pulling your strings?”
I sensed Jace’s hesitation. He was trying to pull away, and I couldn’t have that. If he was hurting, I wanted to know by whom. I wanted, no, needed to know who was the puppeteer he wanted to be saved from.
“Jace, please tell me. If you want to be saved, then let me save you. Please talk to me,” I begged.
Jace’s eyes filled with emotions. I could practically see the mental war going on in his mind about whether or not to tell me. He wanted to trust me, but I saw his hesitation to trust. I didn’t want to push him more than I was already doing, so I waited.
Jace croaked out, “Can I tell you later tonight? Please?”
I smiled as I released the tension in my body. “Do you promise to tell me?”
Jace nodded.
“Can I ask you something now, though?”
Jace looked up at me, waiting for my question.
“Is it that guy from earlier? The one who tried to hit you?”
He pressed his mouth shut as his emotions threatene
d to erupt. He slowly nodded as a single tear fell from his right eye. My heart broke at that. What did that bastard do to Jace?
I resisted the urge to storm out of the house to see if I could find that jackass and knock his ass down again. Instead, I pulled Jace into a protective hug and let my hands run up and down his back. Jace clutched my shirt tightly as his body shook. From what, I had no idea. All I knew at that moment was that Jace Garrison needed me, and I was going to make sure I would be there for him.
We sat around the dinner table that evening chowing down on Desiree’s bacon-wrapped meatloaf with garlic mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables. It was fucking delicious, and I was halfway through my second plate. Desiree was in the middle of talking about her day at work
“So this customer from another town, I forgot which, runs inside having a panic attack because some other shop totally fucked up her hair. I didn’t know how bad because she was wearing a big ass hat to cover up the disaster.”
Jace laughed. “I don’t blame her. If my hair were a hot mess, I’d cover it up too.”
“Oh my God, Jace, a hot mess was putting it mildly. After saying the other three shops she went to were booked solid, she begged one of us to fix her up. I’d already canceled an appointment because my client never showed up, so I was available. She was happy to hear that and hightailed it to my station.”
“So how bad was it?” I asked with a smirk.
Desiree tried her best not to laugh as she continued to tell the story. “The poor lady. I don’t know what the fuck happened or who butchered her hair, but as soon as I opened up that hat, her hair was in a giant knot with ends sticking out all over the place, and it was green. Like bright ass snot green.”
Jace and I both laughed at the image of the poor woman’s rats’ nest of hair.
“How the hell did that happen?” Jace asked in between gasps for air.
“I have no idea! As soon as I pulled that hat off, everybody in the shop was shouting, Damn!”
Laughter erupted from the table. As I let myself enjoy the conversation and the laughter, I couldn’t help but relish the feeling of seeing Jace, Desiree and myself laughing and having a good time. We looked like a real family. A family I wanted to join. We were grieving a loss, but I also saw that we were going to be okay. Jace and Desiree would be okay.
