Blackout (Lewiston Blues Series/Black Family Saga Book 2)

by Scully, Felicia X.

  Dave.

  He’s the only one I’ve spoken to from my old life. Back at the church. After Rowan’s little exercise, he practically begged me to go home and promised to help me any way he could. But after what he told me about my sister, home’s the last place I want to be.

  But he promised his help and there’s no time like the present to take him up on that offer. No matter how uncomfortable it’ll make me.

  I dial his number quickly and sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Hello?”

  I clear my throat. “Could I speak to David Baker please?”

  “This is Dave.” He sounds unsure when he answers, but as the seconds tick by recognition clicks in. “Sheila? Is that you?”

  “Yes,” I say, determined not to lose it like the little girl I suddenly feel like I am. “You called?”

  “I’ve been calling. For weeks. I haven’t seen you at the church lately. I was hoping you’d come back. How are you?”

  “Fine.” I should ask about my family. But I don’t. Because they can’t be doing any better than I am and that’s the last thing I want to hear. Not to mention, if they know what I know they’ll expect me to come running. And I can’t do that right now either.

  “That’s good, Sheila. I’m glad to hear it. We’ve all been worried.” There are a few more seconds of silence before he continues. “Your mom…she’d really like to see you. Do you think…? Would you come to town one day? I could pick you up.”

  They definitely know.

  I glance at the watch on Roscoe’s nightstand. “Are you busy today?”

  “Today? Well…your dad’s out of town. But I’m sure your mom would love it if—”

  “No, not them. Just you.”

  “I…no. I’m not busy. But—”

  “Great. Can you pick me up in a couple of hours? I need to ask you something.”

  More silence.

  “Sure, Sheila. I’m close by, I can be there in twenty minutes.”

  I give him the address and no matter how hard I try to squash the question at the tip of my tongue, my curiosity has gotten the better of me. “How are they? The kids. Is Mariah doing okay?”

  “They’re great. Ray’s so happy. It’s almost like….” I can hear the smile fade from Dave’s voice. “Mariah’s good. Really well. She’ll be home in a few weeks. She’s a little miracle baby. She’s growing like crazy for a preemie. The doctors are thrilled. They didn’t expect that type of progress without her mother’s…”

  My heart squeezes and I slam the phone back down on the receiver. I don’t mean to do it. It’s almost instinct. Like the mere mention of her causes me to go into panic mode. And after the way I already lost it earlier, I need a breather.

  I can’t believe I had another breakdown. Roscoe probably thinks I’m crazy. No doubt I am. I do my best to avoid them. To be the confident, take-no-prisoners girl he met all those months ago. To hold it together for every second of every hour in a day, but when I’m cold, hung over and crabby, how can I not forget everything wrong in my life? How can I not forget everything I’ve lost?

  I shouldn’t have gone to Coco’s. She’s the one who brought all this Shannon stuff to the surface. I don’t talk about my sister and what happened to her. That would require me trying to make sense out of it. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t begin to process how she could be here one minute and gone the next.

  Luke spoke with her. She was okay. She goes to sleep and then just like that…

  I don’t talk about her but I dream about her. Every night I dream about her. At first, it was torture. I’d wake up only to be reminded that I was in the real world again. That, in the real world, Shannon no longer exists. But after weeks of virtual conversations, I’m beginning to feel like it’s okay. My way of holding on. Because I never had the chance to say goodbye.

  In my dreams everything is normal. We talk and we laugh. Like everything really is normal. She never says anything about leaving and I never mention that she’s already gone. Then I wake up. And realty hits. Like now.

  The corners of my eyes are burning again and I’m suck in a shaky breath, squeezing my lids shut. I can’t let my mind go there. Not again.

  Agreeing to see Dave is probably a bad idea. It’ll do wonders for my sanity. And I know without a doubt he’ll bring up that letter. But this isn’t just about me. I have to keep it together for Roscoe too. I don’t think he minds my little cry-fests. I’m pretty sure he even expects it. But it doesn’t mean I have to keep losing it in his presence. I’m not the only one who’s in pain. Lately, I’m just the only one who can’t seem to process it.

  Dave hands me the cash and I offer up the sweetest smile I can muster. Not that I need to. He doesn’t seem the least bit fazed that he just gave me two grand in fifties. He keeps his blue eyes fixed on me and I squirm under is scrutiny.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  I nod.

  “Because you don’t look well. You’re pale and…you just don’t look like yourself.”

  “Well, my sister just died.” It takes a lot to say the words, but the fewer questions, the less probing, the better.

  It seems to shut him up quick enough. He nods, and squeezes my hand.

  “I think a trip home would do you good,” he says. “You should see Ray. He’s getting so big. His birthday’s coming up. Your mom wants to celebrate it. Just like…” He looks away and out through the windshield of his truck. “She wants to have a big celebration. Like she used to do for you.”

  Like Shannon would have. That’s what he really wants to say.

  “Maybe.”

  This seems to satisfy him. He nods, then sighs, stretching his arms forward and gripping the steering wheel. “Look, Sheila. I don’t mind this—letting you borrow money I mean. And I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to buy what I want but…if you’re not going to do it maybe you should say so.”

  His words are like a kick in the gut. I’m so startled by his bluntness I don’t know how to respond. So I just stare back.

  “I’m not trying to rush you,” he continues gently. “But time is of the essence here.”

  “I’m…my sister just died.” I can’t think of anything else to say. It should be the best excuse in the world, but it only seems to encourage him.

  He lets out a heavy sigh and turns to face me. “The only girl I ever loved was taken away from me. Twice. I’m sad. It’s unfair. It’s surreal. But…it’s not. It happened. Before it did she asked one thing of me—the only thing I can actually still do for her. I haven’t hesitated. I wouldn’t dream of it. I know it’s hard but—”

  “I’m nineteen years old.” I shake my head. “I don’t think—I can’t.” It’s the first time I’ve said the words out loud and it brings some semblance of relief. But it’s mixed with guilt as I watch the color fade from Dave’s face.

  “Oh.” He shifts in his seat. “You should probably let them know then.”

  For several minutes, I sit there wondering what I should say and how I should say it. I want to leave but it feels like I’m tethered here. Like I have some obligation to him—because of what he’s agreed to do, because he’s given me money, because he’s hurting just as much as I am.

  “Could you at least try coming back to those sessions again?”

  I don’t want to disappoint him further, but I’m in no position to make promises I know I can’t keep. “It makes me uncomfortable,” I murmur. “All those people. And Rowan’s a little off, don’t you think?”

  “Totally.” Dave continues to stare straight ahead. “But he’s also onto something. The guy’s experienced. He knows what he’s doing and I’m…I’m doing better. I think you would too.”

  “What makes you think I’m not doing better?”

  “You’re living with an older guy who apparently doesn’t have enough sense to pay his bills. You’re out here in this city all by yourself. You haven’t called your family in weeks or even bothered to visit your nephew. Have you even b
een to the hospital to see Mariah?” He’s gripping the wheel, his voice a few octaves higher.

  “What makes you think I’d want to step foot in a hospital after—?”

  “And you’re being you,” he cuts in. “Normally, it’d be okay. We’re all used to it. But under these circumstances, I think it’s time you grew up. You are grown up. You’re not a bratty teenager anymore but you’re acting like it. Stop being so stubborn. Come home, Sheila. They miss you.”

  His words crush me and I want to retaliate—yell at him for being insensitive but instead I say, “I was gone for three months the summer before last and my parents didn’t even bother to look for me. What makes you think they care now?”

  “They do. And they did back then.” He laughs softly. “You really think they didn’t search for you Sheila?”

  “Shannon said—”

  “Shannon didn’t know everything that went on after you left. Maybe she was too distracted. But they looked. They filed a police report and everything. Do you know how many missing children there were that year, Sheila? Hundreds. Some of them much younger than you. Some of them weren’t runaways. Most of them were reported months before. They looked. You weren’t exactly a priority case. You were seventeen. You told them where you were going and, after a few months, it didn’t matter. You’d turned eighteen. There was nothing the police could do. So your parents just prayed.”

  “A lot of good that did me.”

  Dave rolls his eyes. “Oh, Sheila. The world doesn’t revolve around you. If you’d just—”

  “Forget it,” I snap and drop the money in his lap. “I don’t want your help if all you’re going to do is lecture me. I don’t need you as much as you think I do.”

  He laughs and anger swirls in my belly. “Yes you do, Sheila. You need us all. But instead you’re pushing us away, thinking it’ll make things easier. Just…stop for a second and think it through.” He gathers up the bills and places them gently in my hand. “Before you tell them, just think it through. Okay? I’ll always be there for you. No matter what. But I think it’s time you were there for them too. I know it’s not going to be easy. But at least think about it. Can you do that?”

  I want to scream at him. Tell him to mind his own business. But it’s not like I didn’t bring him into mine by asking to borrow money. And it’s not like he didn’t love Shannon too. If I’m being honest, it’s not like he isn’t right. This isn’t a decision I can make so easily. I need more time.

  Dave glances over at me. “Whenever I get so sad I don’t think I can stand it anymore, I think about those kids. It’s the only thing that makes me brave. They’ve lost more than any of us could even imagine. They need us to be strong.”

  I close my eyes, trying to block out his voice.

  “Have you read the letter?”

  I shake my head.

  “Maybe you should.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ross

  I kick the empty beer bottle and it rolls across the rooftop, coming to rest at the ledge.

  Damn it, Luke. Of all the places you could have gone. Of all the things you could have done.

  Judging from all the empty bottles, he must have been smashed that night. How he managed to get that bike onto the highway is beyond me.

  That night, that morning, that entire week plays on a loop in my head. The hospital, my first time with Sheila, the morning after, back at the hospital. It was all…fucked up, surreal and incredible at the same time. I’ve often found myself wishing I could separate the hours and recreate entirely new experiences out of them. Or get rid of some of them altogether. If I could bring her sister back I would, if I could make my brother better, see him happy—the way he was when gave him the Harley for his birthday, the way his eyes lit up when he pulled off that sheet—I’d do anything.

  My life is so fucked up. Just like always. When things get good, they come crashing down around me. And usually it’s because of something I neglected. Something I could have changed but was too damn headstrong—or scared—to bother.

  I could’ve been something. Just like Cole Rose. I could’ve worn a goddamn uniform or a suit and tie. Something better than this mask.

  That’s exactly what this is—a mask. Hell if I’ll ever admit it to a damn soul. I like the tattoos, even the piercings—though I’ll admit the barbell through the nose might have been taking it too far. I just needed something, anything to make me stand out. My music did that for me. It made me Ross Black instead of Ross Black’s poor son.

  The life I’ve led hasn’t been a mistake, by any means. It’s just been my way of being me. Of dealing with what life dealt me. Maybe it’s not a mask. Maybe it’s my uniform. I’m not a banker, or a cop. I’m just me. I had to drop out of college. So what? I wouldn’t trade those years with my brother, being the man he needed me to be, for the world.

  I glance up at the orange sky, sinking my fingers into my hair. I need to get back. It’ll be candles and piles of blankets tonight and I want to set things up before she gets home. Maybe I can make it romantic somehow. I don’t really do romantic—meaning; I’ve never actually done it. But, I don’t know, there’s something about candles that give you a gold star just for trying. Sheila would look fucking amazing in candlelight.

  Despite the lack of warmth and the spoiling food in the refrigerator, I suddenly can’t wait to get home.

  Take-out, with the little cash I have left, candles and layers of down blankets and I’ll have her forgetting about this mess in no time. I can fix the rest of it tomorrow.

  As I rise to my feet again, the music coming from next door catches my attention. Someone’s doing sound check.

  My stomach twists at the thought.

  I make my way back through the building and over to Chagrin’s, lingering in the doorway. Just a taste of my old life. That’s all I need. Then I can go home and face my new one. I peer at the guys repositioning an amp on the stage and catch sight of one of the most beautiful guitars I’ve ever seen. It’s not as badass as my Stratocaster but, from where I stand, I can tell it’s a Fender. The body is sleek, with the complicated curves of a puzzle piece. Its powder blue finish, glints in the spotlight and I reach forward wishing I could touch it. I crane my neck, turning my body slightly to get a better glimpse.

  A Telecaster. An old one too. Probably from the sixties.

  Damn.

  I immediately take a step forward. I need to know who owns that little piece of heaven. And how much did he pay for it? But the second I step out into the open, I see someone who instantly puts me on edge.

  Jerry Cowell.

  He’s barking orders at a couple of roadies and pointing back and forth, from one side of the stage to another. I try to back out before he sees me but the guys sharper than a goddamn eagle.

  Eyes locked on me, he excuses himself and makes his way toward me.

  Fuck.

  I turn around anyway. I don’t care how much of a pussy it makes me to runaway from a confrontation. I’m not in the mood.

  “Ross!” he calls out to me.

  Of course he does. Because this motherfucker can’t take a hint. He couldn’t take the same clue when he turned up at the hospital while my brother was practically dead to the world. He didn’t get it when he showed up at Luke’s sentencing and, even after I told the idiot to go fuck himself, he still called my house trying to convince me to change my mind. When that didn’t work he tried to threaten me with legal action. Now here he stands in my town, in my bar, calling out my name like I’d want to look him in the eye again.

  “Wait up, buddy.” A hand rests on my shoulder and I clench my teeth. “I thought that was you.”

  You knew, asshole.

  “How are things, man? How’s your brother? Your girlfriend? She is your girlfriend now, right? I was always fond of her. Little spitfire that one. And not a bad catch.” He winks. “I can see why you’d want to take things to the next level.”

  My blood is beyond boiling now.

  “What
do you want?”

  “To invite you to the show.” He doesn’t miss a beat, slipping his hand to the inside pocket of his suit and pulling out a four by six flier. “The new band’s playing tonight. Their first gig. They’re pretty damn good. Didn’t think I’d ever replace the wunderkind twins. But the universe has a way of working things out, I guess.”

  “Wunderkind?”

  “Word around town is you two have something pretty damn special. Been playing for a while. Since you were ten and he was six? And you never mentioned who your daddy used to be—Seattle’s number one artist. That man’s a jazz legend. It’s shame about his situation—your brother’s too. That’s a real waste of potential. And to think you both gave up Berklee. I hate to say it, but there are some people who’d kill you just for that.”

  I clench my fists now, willing myself to stay calm. Word around town. Meaning Dash and Ryan have been running their mouths. But what’s this about Berklee? Luke never went to Berklee. He went to the University of Idaho. Everyone knows that. Or maybe there’s something I don’t.

  “Well, thanks for the invitation,” I reply. “But I’ve got plans with my girl tonight.”

  Jerry smiles. “I’ll bet you do.”

  The look on his face makes me want to smash him. Dirty motherfucker. With a reaction like that, I can’t imagine how many times he’s fantasized about her. And to think of all the time she’s spent alone with him. On tour. At the studio.

  I turn away from him and speed toward the exit. Head down, I nearly plow into Bryce Long.

  “Ross.” He slaps me on the back. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”

  I nod a response, ready to leave the scene behind.

  “Wait a minute,” he calls, following me out on to the sidewalk. He ducks his head, taking a step closer. “Look, about tonight.”

  I shake my head, cutting him off. “It’s cool. You need to make money, I get it.”