I look down. Breyson looks like he's slightly zoned. "Anyway, after I got the tattoo I went to your house. Your mom told me I could stay anytime I wanted. I remembered the window that stayed unlocked, so I snuck in. I walked into your room and found that photo on your nightstand of us. I put on your clothes and then laid with that photo in my arms until I fell asleep. That's when the dream came. We were on that same beach, but this time it was different..."
I watch him swallow; his Adam's apple bobs up and down. "This time I started out...alone. I thought it was just a cruel remake of the first dream, because I was in the same swimsuit, but my tattoo was present, my new one. You were walking down the stretch of beach. All I could think was there you were, just as real as you could ever be. You stopped and held out your arms. I took off running as fast as I could and jumped in your arms. You felt just as real as you looked."
My tears are streaming now, present whether I want them there or not. "Those damn wedding bands were present again. You walked me out into the water and made love to me." I close my eyes. "It felt so real. It was the realist thing in my life then. The weird thing about it though was that you kept saying things to me in Spanish. I couldn't figure it out. Then, you walked away from me. You left me there, in the shallow of that water, alone. You walked further into the ocean and vanished before my eyes. I screamed and ran after you, but you were gone. I remember waking up to Briar holding me. I kept telling him I needed to know what you said in Spanish, because it had to be some kind of clue, but I think everyone thought I was crazy."
Breyson looks like he's seen a ghost. He finally begins to blink when I don't say anything else. He sits up quickly, grabbing my face in his hands. "I was in Spain. That's why it was Spanish, baby. I was in Spain. Oh my God, baby, I was in Spain." He keeps repeating it to himself over and over.
Breyson has never told me anything about his time away. He said he was still trying to process everything and then with trying to get me back he just wanted to savor the good for a while before he started digging back into the dark places of his mind, but that he promised when he could he would tell me. I want to know more, but I'm okay with waiting. I lived in darkness long enough that we can just resurface a few at a time. I would rather spend the majority of our days living in the good. I can't explain some of the things that have happened in our lives, but it's time to lay the past to rest.
He removes my hoodie and pulls my dress up, removing it too. "I need you, beautiful. Right now all I need is you."
He places his lips to mine. What Breyson wants Breyson will get. Now I live to please him. That's what you do when you love someone. You do everything you can to make their wishes comes true...and so I will, underneath our lit tree with the company of the moon and stars.
Chapter 11
Kinzleigh
A knock sounds at the door, waking me. "Go away," I mumble. Breyson and I stayed out at our tree late, rotating between talking and making love until the wee hours of the morning. I'm so tired that when Bryce woke up to eat I picked him up, gave him what he wanted, and got back in bed with him. I figured he would fall asleep at some point.
The knock sounds again. I sit up, trying to focus my eyes. Breyson has already left for the day. Bryce is still sleeping. I place pillows around him as a precaution and get out of bed. There goes that knocking again. "I'm coming, I'm coming." I grumble as I walk down the hall.
I get to the door and open it. A hand holding a coffee shop cup comes toward me. "I brought a peace offering."
It's kind of hard to stay mad at him. I take the coffee. "You're still not off the hook, but this is a start in the right direction. You still remember how to talk to me early in the morning. What is it with all you early risers? Haven't you ever heard of sleeping past eight?"
I smell it: white chocolate mocha. Yes, he definitely remembered my favorite. "I don't sleep much anymore. Not by choice."
I take a sip, letting the warm tasty goodness swarm my mouth. I want to ask him questions, but last time that didn't turn out too well.
Last night's talk with Breyson got me thinking about someone I haven't thought of in a while: Riggan. I want to find him. The tattoo shop is the first place I'm starting.
I step to the side and allow him to enter. He walks in looking around the room. I might as well get right to it. "There is something I want you to help me with today."
He turns around to face me. "Yeah, what's that?"
"I want to find someone that's important to me. His name is Riggan. Actually, I think you'd like him. You two have a lot in common. Last time I saw him he was going through a lot and being around me didn't help, so I want to make sure he's okay."
He lifts a brow. "Breyson is going to be okay with you hunting down some guy?"
"I'll call him before we leave, plus, you'll be with me. Are you up for a scavenger hunt of sorts?"
"Sure...I guess. Who's Riggan anyway?"
"The one that did this," I say, as I pull up my shirt to the bottom of my bra.
"Holy shit. That's a big piece." He walks closer and bends over, taking it in. "Damn, that's some good ink. I wouldn't mind having him do one on me."
"He freehanded it," I say as I lower my shirt.
He stands. "No shit?"
"I swear. I was a little worried at first, but when he was tattooing he seemed like he had it all together. Each time after that he was withdrawn into himself; like a barrier that was up while he had a tattoo gun in his hand was crumbling. After he left the hospital from my accident I could tell he was off. I don't want him blaming himself just because I was with him. I tried to check on him a few times before I left with Preston, but I think he's avoiding me. The few times I went in the tattoo shop to ask about him no one had seen him, supposedly. There are things that I know, so either he's avoiding me or everyone he tattoos with is telling me the truth and he's not doing well. I really hope it's not the latter, but I have a bad feeling in my gut."
He is looking at me, rubbing his hand through his short, black hair. "Okay, but if we're going to do this then you need to leave Bryce with Mom, she's home today. From the way it sounds we will be going places not okay for an infant."
He's right. I had not thought all the details through, but this is something I feel that I need to do. After everything that happened I want to find him. Something that body guard at Abby's spot said is really bothering me. "Okay. Let me get him and myself ready. Will you call Mom? You can watch TV if you want."
"Sure."
I turn and walk back into the bedroom, now anxious. I have no idea what will happen or if I'll be prepared for what I'll find, but you don't give up on people just because they're in a dark place. That's when they need someone the most...
***
"It's that tattoo shop right there," I say pointing at the overhead sign on the building to my right.
He pulls into the parking lot and finds an open spot in front of the door. I barely wait for him to kill the engine before I'm stepping out of the car and running for the door.
I walk inside. Everything looks exactly as it did. The front counter is vacant. I walk past it and through the door to the back. Each chair is filled with a client. The artist closest to the door looks up from the large back piece he's doing on a girl that can't be much older than me. It looks like feathery wings. He's lean with a Mohawk, spiked with red tips on his brown hair. The only space clear of tattoos, that I can see, is the frontal of his face. Normally, that many tattoos would creep me out, but somehow it fits him, or maybe it's because I've become fond of tattoos. "Can I help you," he asks.
Konnor walks up beside me. "I'm looking for Riggan. Is he here?"
The guy looks over at the artist in the spot beside him as if he's verifying what to say. The beefy guy beside him nods. "Riggan had to take a leave. We're not sure when he'll be back."
I need more information than that. "He did a piece on me several months ago. My brother wanted another and liked mine, so he was going to use Riggan. Do you know where I co
uld find him?"
"He didn't say. Just said he needed a break and left." The guy looks at Konnor and gives him a head nod since his hands are sheathed in latex. "What's up, man? I'm Kyle. One of us has an opening in a few hours if you want to come back.”
This is not going how I planned, but with Konnor being smart like he always is, he saves it. "Cool. We have a few things to do. We may stop back by."
A head pops up from the back chair. "Kinzleigh, right?"
My eyes immediately follow the voice. I recognize the familiarity of him, but why is not coming to me. Where do I know that spiky, sandy-blonde hair? You can tell he's built, because of the tee shirt he's wearing that has been almost shredded. The sleeves are cut off and half of the side underneath the arm. He's sitting in the chair getting an arm piece. "Yes..."
That moment when someone knows you and you can't remember their name, but you don't want to admit you don't remember them so you don't offend them, yeah that's me right now.
He laughs, clearly amused by my lack of memory at the moment. "It's Maddox. Maddox Burns. I met you at Abby's Spot. I was the sexy drummer," he says winking at me.
My eyes widen as I finally remember who he is. He doesn't look like the rock boy right now. He actually looks completely normal, and he’s dressed like Breyson and his friends dress when they work out.
I realize I'm still standing here staring at him. "Oh yeah, sorry, you just look different. I didn't recognize you."
"What do you want with Riggan?"
"I just want to make sure he's okay. I consider him a friend."
He looks at me for a minute before he says something to the tattoo artist at work on his shoulder piece. "Hey, Justin, can you give me a second?"
"Sure, I could use a smoke." He sets the tattoo gun down on the sanitized tray that holds the ink and removes his gloves before walking outside.
"Come here," Maddox says as he glances around the room. I do as he says and walk across the room to where he sits.
He starts talking in a low voice that only Konnor and I can hear. "Since Abby died Riggan goes off the deep end from time to time when he can't cope. He depends on other things to do it for him. We thought he had finally got his shit together when he started working here, but after that night at Abby's and what happened with you he kind of snapped. We've all tried to check on him, but it does no good. I'll give you the last address he was spending a lot of time at. He will be at his apartment or there most likely, but there are no guarantees."
He pulls out his cell phone and looks at me. "Give me your number and I'll text it to you. That way you'll have my number if you need any help."
I call out my number one digit at a time, watching as he keys it in his phone. When he looks up I can feel mine vibrate signaling I received a text. "Thanks, Maddox. I appreciate it."
I start to back away when he stops me. "Oh, and Kinzleigh..."
"Yeah?"
"Don't be surprised at what you find. The Riggan you met was the version that had his life together. This one, well, the picture won't be as pretty."
My stomach nose-dives to the floor. Now, I want to find him more than ever. I nod, unable to speak for fear of what else he might say. I take off in a dash for the car, not stopping until I'm sitting in the passenger seat.
Konnor is a few seconds behind me. He shuts the driver's side door and looks over at me. "Are you sure you want to do this, Kinzleigh? You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
"But you do, right?"
His jaw steels as if I just slapped him in the face. I didn't mean it that way. I'm just worried. "Konnor, I didn’t mean anything by that other than you've been around people involved with drugs. I swear that's all..."
"It's fine. Why apologize? I did try some things for a while, so it's true. The difference is I was trying it with other rich kids, so I didn't have to deal with any of the dirty or filthy shit that comes with true drug addicts. I'm with you, I just want to make sure you want to do this."
"I need to do this," I say. We could be the difference in life or death, slavery or freedom..." I take a deep breath. "He saved me once. It's time I return the favor."
Konnor's look softens at the words that come from my mouth. One bad decision can change a person's life, altering it forever. I know that now. If I can help someone I will.
"Tell me where to go," he says and begins backing out of the parking lot.
***
We stopped by Riggan's apartment first. It was locked. We knocked for a good ten minutes with no response. Knocking was being modest. It was more like banging. I listened closely for a grumble, footsteps, yelling, something, but got nothing. His neighbor, a middle aged woman, opened her door finally and said he hasn't been home in a few weeks.
A dead end…
Here we are, at the address that Maddox gave us. It's a house down one of the avenues not far from the shop. It's a small lot with a yard that hasn't been cut in a while. The paint is chipping off the wood and there is a green porch light that is still on. Why green I have no idea.
Konnor walks closely beside me as we ascend the porch steps. The boards creak a little as we bear weight on them, giving away their age. I begin knocking on the door, waiting for someone to answer. I stand here for a few minutes when we finally hear someone walking through the house.
The door opens and a girl answers. She's tall and slender, skinnier than me, with a bad blonde coloring job and open sores on her arms and face from picking. She looks like she could be pretty if she didn't look so run down. She squints her eyes as she looks at us both. "Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for Riggan. Is he here?"
She glances at Konnor and smiles as she rakes her eyes down his body. It gives me the creeps. "Sure," she says. "He's in the back room. You can go back."
She moves to the side, opening the door further. I walk in as close to the doorframe as possible, avoiding touching her. She watches me as I pass. "He's going to love seeing you. He has this thing for blondes."
My nose scrunches as I look at her, but obviously I wasn't discreet at all.
She starts laughing. "Not me. Riggan is my half brother." She holds out her hand. "I'm Lilly."
I'm hesitant to touch her, but it's just bad manners not to shake her hand. I don't know much about drug addiction, but if I was going to assume I would say she is definitely on something. I touch the edge of her fingers with mine, trying to be polite.
I look at Konnor. I can tell he's thinking the same thing. I release her hand from mine. "Riggan is down the hall, last room to the right."
I begin walking through the room. There are empty soda cans and pizza boxes lying on the bar, but other than that this little old house is unusually spotless.
I turn to walk down the hallway and everything is quiet. I'm getting nervous. I make it to the last door and place my hand on the knob. I'm not sure if I should knock or barge in.
"Riggan," I call out to the closed door.
No answer.
"Riggan." This time I say it a little louder.
I turn the doorknob and find that it's unlocked. I push the door enough to crack it open. I hear nothing, so I push it open further. What I see once it's wide open breaks my heart.
Riggan is sitting on the floor with his back against the full size bed and his head slumped down. His legs are bent and his knees bilateral with his chest. He is resting his arms on his knees. He has a pipe in one hand and a lighter in the other.
I rush over and kneel on my knees in front of him. On the floor beside him is a small photo, unfolded with wear lines like it's been carried in a wallet for a long time. It's her, Abby, lying on the bed in cotton shorts and a tee shirt with a textbook and notebook in front of her, biting on the cap of a pen. Her hair is piled on top of her head and she's not wearing any makeup, but she has a huge grin on her face as if the photographer is talking to her. I recognize that the room is Riggan’s bedroom, in the same gray and black tones as it is currently.
There is such
a sadness knowing she is dead. She didn't get a second chance like my Brey. She looked happy. It makes you wonder what she thought the day she woke up on her last.
Next to the photo is a small bag with the remains of a crystallized substance inside. I look at him again. He hasn't even moved. "Riggan," I say as I lightly shake his shoulder. "Wake up."
"Riggan." I shake him harder.
He jumps, but lifts his head. He looks at me, but his eyes aren't focused. By the way his eyes look I would guess he hasn't slept much in a couple of days. "Riggan," I whisper. What are you doing?"
His eyes are dilated. "Abby?" His eyes are filling with moisture.
I take his hand and remove the pipe, putting it on the bedside table, followed by the lighter. These are those times when you want to scream that life is not fair, but it wouldn't do any good. I can just hope that one day he can lay her to rest enough to move on. Would it be too much to hope that he gets another chance at love?
He's watching me. I can tell he's high. It doesn't take a genius to see it. "No, Riggan. It's Kinzleigh." I think this is the only time in existence I've ever hated telling someone my name.
"Where is Abby?"
What the hell am I supposed to say to that? He's clearly not coherent. I cannot and will not tell him something with that amount of sensitivity. "I don't know, Riggan." I lie.
"But you look just like her," he says. "Are you trying to play a trick on me, Abby?"
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
"Riggan, you need help. I want to help you."
He grabs me by the waist, trying to pull me toward him. "Come here, baby. Do that thing you use to always do."
I'm trying to pull away, but he is stronger than me. "Riggan, it's me, Kinzleigh. Remember you did a tattoo for me and then we went to Abby's spot. You saved me from being run over by a car. Do you remember?"
He stills and looks at me. I'm starting to think he is finally focusing back to reality when he looks down at my left ring finger. "What the fuck is this, Abby? Huh? It was one fight. One fight and you're giving up on us? You said you liked my music, and that you'd always support me, but yet you refuse to go with me? You can write anywhere. I won't take that away from you. Let's talk this out. I need you with me."
Lasting Fate Page 19
