Lennon's Jinx (Lennon's Girls #1)

by Chris Myers

  After she changes, I hand wash her clothes in the sink. I’m that domesticated.

  Jinx watches me. “Wow, I would’ve never guessed you knew how to do laundry.”

  “I’m a man of many talents.”

  “Your mom is really beautiful. She could pass for her early twenties.”

  “I guess so.” Unlike Jonathan, partying hasn’t hurt Heather’s looks. She also wasn’t a drug addict like him because she mainly stuck to booze. After I cut her off from the day spa, she concocted homemade treatments to keep her youthful image, and they seem to work. The gym equipment I bought doesn’t go to waste because she faithfully uses it every day.

  “You don’t get along with her.” Jinx drags out the words.

  “We get along fine. I just want her to get off her lazy ass and be a parent for once or get a job. Do something. Anything.” My voice rises a bit.

  “My mom works all the time. I hardly see her.” Jinx studies the floor tiles with her tiny bare feet. God I’d like to suck every one of her toes. They’re painted gold and teal. “My stepfather barely works at all.”

  “I guess we’re at opposite ends of the spectrum.”

  “Your parents have money.” Her voice drifts off.

  “Money doesn’t solve everything, but it helps.”

  Jinx scoots up on top of the washing machine. That loose tee she’s wearing makes my imagination run wild.

  “My mom only worked part-time until my dad got sick. His medical bills sucked us dry, even though we had insurance. We lost the house. I think Mom married my stepfather so that I’d have a babysitter when she travels.”

  I’m wondering if I can give her a therapeutic hug without forming a tent pole in my pants. I’m guessing not. “What does your mom do?”

  “Pharmaceutical sales. She’s does well, and we’ve managed to get out of the hole we were in.”

  Her silence leaves gaps filled with unanswered questions. She’s obviously not happy with her home life, but for once, I don’t push her. I have enough of my own demons to fry, Jonathan for one.

  When I finish washing, Jinx follows me into the laundry room where I toss her clothes into the dryer. Harry waltzes in, eyeing Jinx’s ankle like a bone. She screams and jumps into my arms. Her hands wrap around my neck. “What the hell is that?”

  “Our dog.” My dick rises to the occasion because she’s naked under a thin tee, and I am a guy, and she’s amazingly cute.

  She slides down me and gets poked. “You are such a sleaze.” She beats me with her tiny fists.

  I love it when she does that. It’s hard not to laugh. “No. You barely have any clothes on, and I’m excited. You could be nice to me.” I stop before I finish my thought, which is to make up for me not getting any tonight and a few other nights I was deprived. That’ll really piss Jinx off, so I shut my mouth.

  Jinx narrows her eyes at me. “Why does everything have to be about sex with you?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it. I have to remember that she’s not a pub girl or any fun.

  When her clothes finish drying, I drive Jinx to the station. It’s close to four in the morning. “Your parents won’t be upset with you coming home so late?”

  “My mom’s in St. Louis on business. My stepfather will probably be out.” Jinx gets out with her keyboard and CDs and slides into her car.

  We share the same sad song. Our parents aren’t there for us. For me, if Heather remarries, she’s out of our house. She’s holding out for Jonathan, a worthless cause. That used to be a sure thing, but this last time, he hasn’t come back, except to retrieve Currie for a visit.

  Jinx’s life has an added twist that forms knots in my tired muscles. Something’s up with her. It’s only a matter of time before I find out what.

  Absolution

  Lyrics and Punky Music by Jinx Armstrong

  Chorus:

  I miss the way you taste.

  I miss your touch.

  I miss the world that once surrounded us.

  I beg for absolution and your kiss.

  Cut the scars from my heart.

  Scrub my soul raw.

  Erase the hard lines that have stripped me bare.

  Water washes the dirt away.

  But only on the surface.

  Beneath are the lies that cage me.

  Free me with your kiss

  Forgive me for my sins.

  Knock down the walls between us.

  Take me in your arms and away from here.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  JINX

  Saturday morning, I sit in the shower and soak, the steam clearing my mind, the water washing away His touch. Is it because I’m going to be eighteen soon that He thinks He can continue where He left off, where my life ended?

  Instead of sleeping last night, I worked on my solos and wrote another song to add to my pile of unfulfilled dreams and in part to impress Lennon, Danny, and Clive.

  Once again, Lennon rescued me, and he ditched his skank to drive me back. When he wrapped me in his arms, I felt safe from everything bad. That scares me more than his reputation.

  Step-monster hasn’t had the chance to tell Mom about my weed yet. She won’t be home until Monday, then I’ll be grounded for eternity. I can’t stand staying here.

  When I get out of the shower, I dress for the cold and walk the mile and a half to the Corner Coffee.

  “One mocha latte,” I say to barista boy. He’s cute with dimples in his chin that spread to his cheeks when he smiles.

  “Coming right up, Jinx.” A machine grinds beans behind him while he pushes the tin cup under the whirring blades to mix my favorite blend.

  He hands me the burning-hot cup of caffeine rush, the aroma waking me. His face blushes. “You know, Jinx. I don’t always work. Maybe…we could hang out together.”

  “Really?” I haven’t been asked out in a long time, if I don’t count Alex, the meathead who hit on me at my party. Speak of the devil. He slides up behind me and brushes up against me.

  I would toss my coffee at him, but I can’t afford to buy another one. When I graduate, I’m out of here and away from all this bullshit.

  Barista boy’s lips curl down. Wait, I want to say to him, but stupid Alex slips his hand around my waist.

  I shove him back. “Get away from me. I’m not interested in you one iota.”

  Barista boy smiles at that.

  “Later?” I say to barista boy.

  “Maybe tomorrow?”

  “That may work,” I say.

  I turn away from Alex and walk home.

  “I could give you a ride,” Alex calls to me.

  “No thanks.”

  On my way back, creepers crawl across my neck like someone is watching me. I spin around to search the street, but the cars just fly past me, not giving me a second glance. I hit the crosswalk signal and wait before entering the road.

  A Camaro races up to the stoplight and screeches to a halt. I jump back, spilling coffee on my wool pea coat. ‘What the—?”

  Alex beeps his horn at me. I give him the one finger salute and stalk to the other side of the road.

  I am getting stronger, and I wonder if it isn’t partially because I joined the band and due to Lennon’s encouragement. Singing on stage got a little easier by the end of the night. It was the most terrifying and yet the most exhilarating experience of my life. I just need to stay sober around certain guys and watch my back and lock my doors.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  LENNON

  Unfortunately, I had to be my own best friend in the shower last night. Even then, I could barely sleep, and when I did, coppery waves of hair feathered my dreams.

  We have to be at the wedding by noon, so I drag myself out of bed and go to the hospital.

  Mrs. Nowak is on her phone just outside when I enter Zoe’s room. The staff will prep Zoe this morning for her first bout of chemo this afternoon.

  Currie and Zoe are watching a Pixar movie. The room is maxed out with flowers, balloon
s, and stuffed animals.

  “Hey, ladies.” I hand Zoe a plush penguin, her favorite animal, Mickey D French fries, and a milkshake.

  “Where’s mine?” Currie asks.

  “I didn’t get any for you. All that grease is bad for you.”

  She jumps up and peeks behind my back. “Give them to me.”

  I pull the other bag out. “McDonalds is not healthy. You can’t have any.” I steal a fry.

  “Unh, unh.” She swipes them away from me, but only after, I snag them out of reach a few times. I love teasing her more than I do Harry.

  Zoe takes a long pull from her milkshake. “This is so much better than hospital food.”

  Currie picks at her fries. Dark smudges circle under her eyes. They’re also puffy, like she’s been crying. My heart aches for her. She’s too little to go through this. I pick her up, cradle her in my arms, and kiss the top of her head.

  She swats me. “I’m not an infant anymore.”

  “You’ll always be my baby.”

  Zoe points to her cheek. “Where’s my sugar?”

  I give her a kiss there. She grins big for me.

  “What did you get?” I ask, checking out her plunder.

  “Clive bought me the humongous penguin in the corner.” The stuffed animal is five-feet, propped up against the wall. “Danny Boy and Susan got me the Barbie and horse.”

  “You made out. Are you going to share?”

  Zoe pokes my nose. “I’ll make an exception for you.”

  “What about me?” Currie asks. “I’m your best friend.”

  “You’re cute, but you’re not a hunky monkey like Lennon.”

  Currie throws a small stuffed animal at Zoe who catches it and throws it back.

  While the girls finish their food, Mrs. Nowak talks on the phone. I hope everything is going well. From her raised voice, the conversation sounds heated.

  Zoe squishes up her face. She leans forward in her bed to peek out of the room, searching for her mom.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I have to pee really bad. Is Mom off the phone yet?”

  “No,” I say.

  Panic seizes her expression. “I’m a little dizzy. I don’t want to fall.”

  I tear the sheet from the corners of the bed. “It must be toga time.”

  “It’s what?” Zoe asks. “This is embarrassing. The hospital gown opens in the back. I don’t want you to see me naked.”

  “I’m a master at togas.” I wrap the sheet so that it’s short and loop it over her arm. “Ready?” I say as I lift her from the bed.

  Zoe’s arms hug my neck. “I guess so.” She studies her new look. “Kind of catchy.”

  Currie follows us into the bathroom where I set Zoe on the pot.

  “Currie will help the Goddess Aphrodite on her throne.”

  Zoe giggles.

  “Call me when you’re ready,” I say, closing the door behind me.

  Mrs. Nowak stuffs her phone in her pocket and enters Zoe’s hospital room. “I’m sorry. Crisis at home. Brea doesn’t know what to wear for the dance tonight. I bought her two dresses.”

  She sighs. “Her first date.” Mrs. Nowak’s face pinches. Tears form at the edge of her hazel eyes. “I want to be there for her, but I can’t leave here.”

  In all the years I’ve known the Nowaks, I’ve never seen Mrs. Nowak break. Her normally kept hair is disheveled and bags hang under her eyes.

  I get the distinct impression that this isn’t a routine chemo treatment. “What’s wrong with Zoe?”

  “The doctors want to do a bone marrow transplant for her leukemia. They’ll be able to give her higher doses of chemo. I just…don’t want my baby to go through this anymore.”

  I know it’s selfish, but I’m thankful Currie isn’t sick. I give Mrs. Nowak a hug. She’s the mom I never had.

  “What time does Brea’s dance start?” I ask.

  “Eight. Don’s out of town on business. I’m not sure what to do. Currie hasn’t been sleeping well. She should go home and rest tonight.”

  “How about I come back to the hospital after the wedding, around five-thirty or six? Then you can help Brea.”

  Mrs. Nowak grasps both my arms. “Would you? I’ll come back after Brea leaves for the dance, so you can take Currie home to bed.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Currie yells from the bathroom. “A little help here please.”

  Mrs. Nowak will have a hard time lifting Zoe, so I’m ready for duty. “Are you decent?” I ask, knocking on the door.

  “Close your eyes,” Zoe says.

  I do. Currie takes my hand over to Zoe. As I stoop, I reach out my arms. Zoe loops her arms around my neck. I pick her up. “Can I open my eyes?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s my goddess. All that bright light. I think I might fall.” When I stumble, Zoe tightens her grip on my neck.

  “Don’t drop me,” she says.

  Zoe’s still wrapped in the toga I made her. I carry her to bed and gently place her in it.

  “Do you like my toga, Mommy?” Zoe asks.

  “It’s beautiful. Did Lennon make that for you?”

  Zoe nods. “He’s the best.”

  “What are you ladies doing this afternoon?” I ask.

  “Movies and homework.” Zoe makes a face. “That’s Currie’s idea.”

  “It’s a good one.” I check my phone for the time because I don’t wear any jewelry, other than the keys around my neck. Jonathan does. He has almost enough to look like a thug. “I’m going to head to the wedding. What do you guys want for dinner?”

  “Chinese,” they both say.

  “The usual?”

  Both nod with enthusiasm. Before I leave, I give all the girls a hug including Mrs. Nowak. She whispers in my ear, “You’re a prince. Thank you.”

  I’m glad somebody thinks so. She should talk to Jinx and put in a good word for me.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  JINX

  Every little girl fantasizes about her fairytale wedding, and I’m no different. Katie Winthrop even gets the castle. I gaze up at the Carlton, Mansion, a historic landmark. It reminds me of the Tower of London. I want to go there someday. If only I could click my heels together to make a wish.

  I arrived early, ahead of the guests and the guys to practice on the baby grand at center stage. After Lennon’s reprimand, I spent a few more hours holed up in my dad’s den going over the solos again. I hope I can do them justice. Two of them aren’t easy and are a stretch for my range.

  The staff lets me in but tells me that when the guests arrive I need to wait at our table until the rest of the band is here. We have our own table where the wealthiest and most powerful Chicagoans will dance, eat, and toast the bride? How did Lennon manage that?

  The tables are set with linens, and American Beauty roses adorn every one of them. I wonder what it’s like to have this kind of money and a dad like Mr. Winthrop. He either loves his daughter or wants to impress his friends.

  My dad won’t be around to give me away, and that rips open my heart. I wish Lennon understood how important a dad can be, even one who’s made oodles of mistakes like Lennon’s.

  As requested, I wore the purple dress Lennon picked out with black stockings and my character shoes from theater. They were the only ones that looked good with the dress. I used to perform in the musicals during the spring but haven’t the last two years because of work.

  My keyboard at home is nothing like the baby grand here or at the warehouse. I yawn as I set out my music, hoping I don’t fall asleep.

  I practice an hour, pressing harder on the keys than I normally would. My voice sounds good, but I worry about getting the shakes like I did last night. Thankfully, Zach won’t be here today.

  I’ve never had a problem with performing on stage for choir or theater. Somehow, this is different. It’s real. Maybe because I’m getting paid. Performing doesn’t seem to affect any of the guys. Lennon’s singing is effortless. When
he sings, his voice works its way into my bones, giving me goosebumps.

  A cute waiter, probably a student at the University of Chicago, walks over to me. “The rest of your band is here. You have a beautiful voice. I look forward to hearing you with them.”

  Heat prickles my neck. “Thanks.” I keep my lips locked tight, so I don’t say something stupid.

  Zach’s comments about my singing last night still hurt, though I was happy he hadn’t brought Kelly. What’s up with that? At school, they’re normally stuck together like Siamese twins.

  The waiter tidies up a few place settings before disappearing into what I assume is the kitchen. He winks at me, which sends sparks spiraling up my arms.

  Lennon strolls in carrying three guitars. Clive has a violin case, a sax, and his bass. Danny has Susan in tow along with his sticks. The guys all have on Armani suits with purple silk ties. They look professional. Susan has on a calf-length, flowing dress and heels. Despite my designer label, I feel shabby next to them.

  “You look beautiful,” I say to her.

  She twirls in her dress. “I can’t believe we’re at the wedding of the decade.” She squeals with delight. “I can’t wait to see what Katie and her bridesmaids are wearing.”

  It’s the first time she’s really talked to me. I’m glad she’s loosened up. I hate being the only girl, and I can’t talk to the girls flocking around Clive and Lennon during the breaks. They seem dumber than dirt.

  “You look ravishing,” Clive says to me, clasping my waist.

  I shudder only a bit, biting back the flashes of memories of that night.

  Lennon nods at me. “You look good.”

  The compliment works its way into me, heating my cheeks. He can be charming when he wants to be.

  “Ready?” Lennon asks.

  The lump in my throat sticks to my larynx. Hope it doesn’t ruin my singing. “I guess.”

  “You’ll do fine,” Lennon says. “Relax.”

  The guys hook up to the existing amps and mikes on stage.