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

by Scully, Felicia X.

  “What? What terrible thing have I done now?” My head is buzzing from the rum and I know I should let it go, but it’s like my mouth is refusing to listen to my brain. “I’m doing my best here and I wish everyone would just let me be. I just want to deal with this—with everything—on my own terms. I just want to make my own decisions without being pressured. Is that too much to ask? Don’t I have that right?”

  “Of course you do. But, well, part of being an adult is not just making your own decisions but making them with others in mind.”

  I roll my eyes, then jump off the bed. “Oh, so you’ve got all the answers, do you?” I glare back in her direction. “Here’s the thing about the adult world, Coco. It’s not as easy as you think. It’s not college and your own apartment on Daddy’s dime in the city of your choice. Sometimes it’s about breaking free and finding out who you really are, who you’ve had to bottle up for years. I did that. I did what I wanted for once. And it backfired. It shattered everything to pieces and now I have to put it back together. No can do that for me. Not Dave, not my parents and definitely not you!”

  Coco has moved to the edge of the bed now and her mouth is wide open as she processes my rant. I’m breathing heavy, my chest heaving and I’m quickly starting to regret my words. I’ve always been jealous of the way my best friend lives. She’s never really needed permission to be who she is. She’s never been judged for it. She’s never known what it was like to escape a narrow-minded upbringing. She’s been free to explore and to just be all her life.

  But I’ve never hated her for it. Not openly anyway. I clench my teeth, biting back the apology I know I should give. Of course I’m too proud. And besides, I’m not the only one in this room casting judgment.

  “And pretending to be Roscoe Black’s girlfriend can?” She gathers up her things from the floor and makes her way toward the door. “I’m just trying to help,” she adds, as she turns the knob. “Maybe you’re not as grown up as you think you are.”

  I’ve been lying on the bed for about five minutes, trying my hardest to fight threatening tears, when the door opens again. My heart jumps with relief, until I realize it’s Roscoe. For the first time, the sight of him makes me sick to my stomach. I turn back on my side to stare at the wall.

  “What was that all about?” The bed shifts as he stretches out beside me. “Coco practically ran me down the stairs.”

  “Nothing,” I mumble. “What are you doing back so early?”

  “Am I interrupting?” he asks, a chuckle in his voice.

  “Forget it. I’m just tired.” And pathetic.

  “Me too.” An arm sneaks around my waist and no matter how hard I try to fight the urge, I lean into him. “Long day. But good day,” he says into my ear. “I booked a gig.”

  I turn to face him. “Are you serious? What do you mean a gig? Doing what?”

  “Playing.” His eyebrows knit together. “And singing. It pays a hundred dollars a night. Not much. But it’s something. Figure I’ll put in two nights a week.”

  “I didn’t know you wanted to sing again.”

  He shrugs. “Either did I. Until I saw Ryan and Dash at Chagrin’s.”

  “They’re back?”

  “With the new band. They played last night. Saw Bryce and he offered up a gig. I accepted.”

  I smile. “That’s great.” But I’m not so sure it is. I’m not so sure that scene is what either of us needs right now. “When do you play?”

  “Wednesdays and Fridays.” He kisses my forehead. “Hope you’ll come cheer me on.”

  “You know I will.” I kiss his lips, then pull back examining his face. “You need to shave, Ross. Gross.”

  “I thought you liked it rough.” I swat him away, as climbs off the bed, grinning. “Want a drink?”

  I glance at the clock. It’s barely four and I’ve already had three. But after my little tiff with Coco, I could use something to take the edge off. “Sure.”

  He makes his way toward the door and stops short, his gaze falling to the foot of the bed. He picks up my shopping bag and holds it between us. “What’s this?”

  “Went to the mall with Coco.”

  His hand disappears inside the bag and he pulls it out, holding my new leather skirt. “You bought a skirt?”

  Crap. I nod, tight-lipped.

  “And shoes?” He holds up the pair of platform ankle boots, narrowing his eyes as he watches me. “With what?” he asks.

  I should let it go. But the way he says it, like he owns me—or worse thinks I’m supposed to answer to him, grates me. I’ve had enough judgment for the day. “What does it matter?”

  His eyebrows shoot up and he shoves my things back in my bag, retrieving the receipt. “You spent two hundred dollars on a skirt and a pair of shoes? Where’d you get two hundred dollars?”

  Is he serious?

  “I wouldn’t expect you to know,” I say. “It being my money and all.”

  It’s almost like everything clicks at once. He glances up at the ceiling, then back at the bedroom door. “You paid the electric bill. But you don’t have money, Sheila. You’ve been living with me since the beginning of the year. You’ve complained about being broke a thousand times. You don’t have any—” His gaze bolts back to me. “Please tell me you didn’t borrow money from Coco.”

  “Of course not.”

  That might actually be worse than the truth. Letting Cole Rose know Ross is broke would be much, much worse. I hope.

  “God, not your parents.”

  “Like they’d ever give me money.”

  “Then who?”

  Shit. I should have gone with that last one. “It’s not a big deal. I got a little loan. And you don’t have to pay it back. It’s fine. The power’s on and we’re all good, right?” I flash him a smile, but it does little to appease him.

  “Who’d you borrow money from?” He’s crossed his arms over his chest. The dragon, inked in green that’s wrapped around his forearm twitches and I can tell he’s not planning on letting it go anytime soon. “Sheila.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s obviously something if you can’t just tell me.”

  I get up from the bed and head toward the door. “About that drink.” But Roscoe stops me, curling his hand around my upper arm and pulling me gently toward him.

  “Can you please just tell me? I don’t get what the big deal is.”

  I sigh, wriggling free. “And I don’t understand why you care. You weren’t asking these questions last night when you came home to a heated house.”

  “Because you were distracting me! With your…” He waves his hands toward me, gesturing up and down my body. “With your sex!” He lets out a growl.

  I laugh. “It’s not a big deal. Bill paid. Power on. End of story.”

  “It’s a huge deal. Where’d you get the money?” He steps in front of me, blocking my path this time.

  “From Dave, alright? He’s a family friend. He said I could come to him if I—”

  “That dude your sister tried to pass off as the kid’s father? Are you fucking kidding me? You asked him for money?”

  I shrug. “Like I said, he’s a friend.”

  “Oh, a friend. Like he was to your sister. Always sniffing around, making Luke look like the enemy.”

  “You don’t know anything about that!” I scream. “Leave her out of this.”

  “Is that what that was? You put on a sexy dress, make me dinner, seduce me so you don’t have to tell me you’re taking money from another guy? That’s what you did? Paid my bills with another man’s money? What the fuck?”

  “What do you think? The power company just decided to take pity on us? Someone had to pay it?”

  “What the hell would you go do something like that for? I had it handled. I told you I’d fix it!”

  “With what? Your hundred dollars a night?” I scratch my head, then dramatically begin counting with my fingers. “Let’s see. That’s what? One, two, three—three weeks with no he
at, light and hot water? Brilliant plan, Ross. Bravo!”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No fuck you, Ross! I did what I had to. How about thanking me? How about thanking Dave?” The moment I say the last part I regret it, but I’m too proud to admit it. Instead I cross my arms and narrow my eyes.

  “You’re a fucking piece of work, you know that? Why would you fucking humiliate me? I’m doing my best here!” He snatches up his jacket.

  “No one asked you to, Ross. I don’t need you to take care of me.” I turn my back. “Clearly.”

  “Why the fuck are you here then?” He’s so close to me, I feel the backwind of his scream. “Fuck this,” he adds quietly. “Fuck you, Sheila.”

  I flinch as the door slams and I listen to his angry retreat down the stairs.

  Perfect. Two arguments in less than an hour. I’m on a roll. Maybe I should just call my parents now and get it over with. It’s tempting but even I’m not that brave. Instead, I crawl into bed and pull the covers over me, doing my best to shut out the rest of the world.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ross

  “Fucking Chiclet Teeth,” I say. I’ve never even met the guy but I can only imagine what he looks like. My brother’s described him enough times, ranted about him enough times for me to know he can’t be trusted.

  Luke laughs on the other side of the glass. I haven’t heard a sound like that come from him in so long I instantly perk up.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Life,” he says, hunching over, his elbows propped on the table in front of him. “Don’t worry, bro. Dave’s not so bad. Innocent really. Too innocent. It’s not like he’ll fuck her or anything.”

  “I thought you hated the guy. What gives?”

  Luke shrugs. “He’s an asshole, yeah. But he’s got conviction that’s all. He puts his mind to something and just fucking does it. Consequences be damned.” He smirks. “Even after I beat his ass he looked out for Shannon. He just doesn’t care.”

  The way he says her name, like it’s not the most painful word he’s uttered in weeks, catches me off guard. But it doesn’t seem to faze him so I don’t say anything about it.

  “Guess he’s got something against the Black brothers.”

  Luke chuckles, “Or the something for the Carlson sisters.”

  Shit. No doubt he’s probably right about that.

  “No one said it’d be easy,” Luke continues. “You’re not just dating a Carlson sister. You’re dating Sheila Carlson. The way you’re acting, you’d think you didn’t just spend the last eighteen months of your life with her.”

  He’s right about that too.

  “And don’t forget. She’s only nineteen. She’s got a lot to learn about everything.”

  “Jesus, when you say it like that, it makes me sound like a creep.”

  Luke smirks. “Mom’s almost ten years younger than Dad.”

  “Shit. And look where she ended up.” Shit is right. What the fuck is wrong with me? “Sorry, bro. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “It’s cool.” He smiles. “So you and Sheila, huh? All those months you were lying your ass off. I knew you liked her. Why didn’t you just say something?”

  “Timing was just off, I guess.”

  “You in love with her now or something? Because the way you’re carrying on about Dave…”

  “No.” I laugh. “I mean, I like being with her. But, to be honest, I don’t know what we’re doing. It all happened kind of fast, you know?”

  “Are you kidding? You’ve known her for almost two years.”

  “As an employee. A friend. When she was our tour manager, having her around was different. There was a reason for her to be there. A reason other than me—now it’s just a lot of pressure sometimes. When I screwed up before, she stuck around because it was her job. Now…”

  “She can leave whenever she wants.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So maybe that’s a good thing.”

  I want to tell him I’d be crazy to think that. That her leaving is the worst thing for everyone except for me but I choose to keep my feelings to myself. I haven’t seen him this upbeat in longer than I can remember.

  “Maybe,” I mumble.

  “Have you talked to her? About going back?”

  “After the fight we had today, I might not have to.”

  He looks back at me. “Look, Ross. I’m not trying to get in the way of whatever you guys are doing. But if it’s complicated and not all that serious, maybe you just need to let her go. The sooner she goes home…”

  “I know.” I clear my throat, then shake my head. “I will. I just don’t know how to bring it up. She doesn’t talk to them at all, Luke. I’m surprised she even talked to Dave.”

  “Well, as shitty as it is that she’s taking money from another guy, maybe it’s not so bad. If she’s willing to talk to him,” he shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe that’s the first step.”

  “Maybe.” I shuffle in my seat and glance around the dank room. “You doing okay in here?”

  “About as good as I can be. It isn’t exactly the Ritz Carlton.”

  “Goddamnit. I miss that place.”

  He smiles, then rubs his forehead. “Yeah. Good times.”

  “Maybe too good.”

  I catch a glimmer of mischief in his eye and all of a sudden, seeing him behind this glass isn’t so bad. He’s doing okay. He’s not the dark, scary Luke I’ve been visiting these past few weeks. I’d considered whether or not he needed to be on suicide watch or something. He hardly ever smiled, barely said two words. And just like with Sheila, you couldn’t say a damn thing about Shannon without threatening a fucking rainstorm. He didn’t want condolences and he especially didn’t want memories. I don’t know what happened. But I’m glad it did.

  “I’ve been going to see the baby,” I say, quickly, gauging his response. I don’t want to upset him but, at the same time, I want him to know she’s okay. He didn’t ask. I’m not sure why, but I’ve been looking forward to telling him.

  His expression doesn’t change much but a light flickers behind his eyes. “Really?”

  I smile. “She’s damn cute. I can’t exactly touch her. I can’t even go in the room, ‘cause I’m not on the list but I can watch her through this window. The nurses know me now. I’m not sure how comforted we should be about the fact that they’ll break the rules for me, but I’m grateful anyhow. I visit her a couple times a week. More if I can.”

  “How is she?”

  “Getting better. First time I went to see her a few weeks ago they were feeding her through this tube in her nose. They took it off last week though and she’s drinking from a bottle now. So that’s good. It’s great actually. Means she’ll be ready to go home soon. And she’s been gaining weight. I call just about everyday to check to see how she’s doing.” Luke chuckles and I glance up. “What?”

  “You’re really into this whole being an uncle thing, huh?”

  I shrug. “She’s family. Got the looks to prove it.”

  He laughs again and we sit in silence for a few minutes until he finally mutters, “So the band’s…uh…”

  “Done for.” I shrug. “Whatever. Just another in the list of Ross Black failures, I guess.”

  “I never thought you’d quit. You didn’t have to.”

  “Neither did I. But I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

  “Like what? I’m in here. It’s not a luxury hotel but it’s my home for the next nine months.”

  “Eight,” I say. I’ve been counting down the days. I’d think he would be too.

  “Whatever. They’re all just days to me.”

  “Don’t worry about me. The band didn’t happen and I’m cool with it.” The guard captures my attention, calling out a five-minute warning.

  “I still can’t believe you quit your band.”

  I sigh, turning back to my brother. “Why is that such a big surprise? Bands break up all the time. ‘Sides we’re the talent
, you and me. You and me together. So…”

  “So you quit the band because I got my ass thrown in jail.”

  “That’s not it. You almost died, Luke. I had other things on my mind.”

  “Yeah, but I’m alive. And you’re not one to quit. So you tell me what gives.”

  “It’s…” I’m not even sure. Originally, I avoided the band because I spent 24/7 in the hospital. After Luke recovered and they carted him off to jail, I spent my time trying to find him a lawyer. I hired the best because, just a few short months ago, we could afford it. Didn’t do much good. So I spent the next few weeks, drowning in the sorrow of my failure. Now I’ve found a new distraction. And I like her just fine. I don’t need music when I have Sheila to take care of. The addiction’s become one in the same. “It’s just time to move on,” I finally say. “I’m too old to be in a band,” I add with a chuckle. “I still play. I booked a few gigs at Chagrin’s but music’s not the only thing that matters anymore.”

  “Good. It’s good to hear you haven’t completely give up on your dream.”

  “You mean like you did?”

  “I didn’t give mine up so much as I threw it away.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  Luke scrunches his eyebrows, staring at me through the warped window.

  “Berklee,” I say.

  His frown melts away and he shifts his gaze.

  “You got in?”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “You got in,” I say. “And you didn’t go. What the fuck, Luke?”

  “Not like we could afford it.”

  “You have a Trust Fund. You can afford anything you want.”

  He shakes his head.

  “So that money’s good enough for your kids but it wasn’t good enough for you?”

  “It’s not the same thing,” he snaps. “And you know it. That money, everything we ever had up until that tour, it was wrong. I don’t care about technicalities. Using that money would’ve been wrong.”