In Your Honor

by Heidi Hutchinson

  “Hey.” Taylor flipped him a video game controller. “You wanna help us kill some Nazis?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 10

  Free Me

  Carl wanted a cigarette. Mostly so he had something to do as he waited for the next bomb to fall. Not that the tour had been going badly—it wasn't. In fact, it had been going very well, which is why Carl was feeling on edge. When things seemed too easy, it was usually because they were.

  He'd given up smoking for two reasons. One: it was time. He wasn't a teenager anymore and it wasn't cool. Not that it ever really had been. But with the yellow teeth and thinning hair, it was definitely further away from cool than ever before. And two: Kendra literally cringed every time he lit one up. Come to find out, she'd lost a close relative to lung cancer. She was pretty sensitive to the issue.

  Normally, Carl didn't give a shit who felt what about what cause, but Kendra was nice to him. In fact, she was downright adorable. She never lectured him on his bad habits like some had in the past. She was sweet, understanding, and truly worried about him all the time. He hated it when people worried about him. So he had quit smoking. Cold turkey.

  The bands were healthy, sober and getting along with one another just fine. In fact, everyone was downright chummy, which only added to Carl's apprehension. Things were too easy, it seemed. Adding Lucy to the bill was great, Taylor Stevens was learning the ropes quickly, and Double Blind Study were the consummate professionals of any tour manager's dream.

  “How's the toothpick working for ya?” his friend, David Warren, asked from the other end of the phone. They'd been friends longer than Carl could remember, and they'd probably be friends until the day they died. David was a novelist of sorts, but Carl had never read his work. Their friendship didn't deem it necessary. They'd seen each other through loss of family members, horrible girlfriends, the ups and downs of their respective careers, and now they'd both quit smoking.

  Carl rolled the toothpick across his lip with his tongue and then back again. “It's all right. I'm not ready to declare it a cure-all, though.”

  He heard David's soft chuckle. “It sounds like things are going very well. What are you so worried about?”

  “Shit, Warren, you know me. I wouldn't be normal if I wasn't worried.” Carl frowned as he noticed a crowd of nearby crew members forming in an area behind one of the buses.

  “Maybe it'll be a drama-free tour this time,” David speculated rationally.

  Carl could now hear raised voices where the crew members were gathering. “Not a chance. In fact, I have to go.” Carl rounded the corner and scowled. “It seems my most experienced talent has decided to take up boxing.”

  “Damn. Call me back.”

  He hung up the phone and slipped it into his back pocket just in time to see Blake take a swing at Luke. Luke dodged the blow and shoved Blake into the rear end of the bus.

  “I don't want to fight you, Blake!” Luke shouted, his face red with anger.

  Blake reoriented himself, his face twisted in hurt and rage. “You have no right to tell me what you think you know about me!”

  “Blake! This isn't my fault!” Luke shifted his body, preparing for another attempt from Blake, but it wasn't enough. Blake's fist shot out and cracked Luke in the jaw, sending the singer reeling backwards.

  Luke righted his lean body, all attempts at diplomacy vanishing. He charged headfirst and caught Blake in the stomach with a shoulder, sending them both to the ground. He straddled the guitarist, gripping the front of his shirt with one hand while sending a fist into Blake's face with the other, landing high on his cheek. His fist pumped back quickly and hit Blake again, this time in the mouth.

  His arm cocked back again, preparing to strike another blow, when Carl grabbed him from behind. Carl wrapped his arms around the stronger mans shoulders and hauled him backwards. A couple of the guys from security snagged Blake by his arms as he scrambled to his feet.

  Carl moved to stand between the two men, shoving one hand against Luke's chest.

  “What the hell?!” he yelled, looking back and forth between the two men who were both breathing hard. “Are you kidding me with this?”

  “Stay out of this, Carl,” Luke seethed, his glare not leaving Blake's.

  “Oh, like hell.” Carl pushed Luke back further. “Look at you two idiots! I thought we left this shit behind years ago!”

  By now, Sway, Mike and Harrison had been alerted to what was happening and showed up to assist. Carl was thankful Lenny had taken Kendra and Lucy out for lunch, so that none of them had to witness this. He was the opposite of proud of his boys today.

  “Some of us don't know when to grow up,” Luke bit out towards Blake, who stiffened as the security guys tightened their hold on him.

  “You think you know everything!” Blake growled. “Stop pretending like you give a shit about us. We're not brothers. Brother's don't betray each other.”

  “I didn't do this, Blake! You told her you wanted to be friends! That means she's allowed to see other people! You can't seriously expect the rest of us to keep her on hold for you!”

  Carl ground his molars together in frustration. “This is about a woman?! Again?!” He was shouting. He tried to never shout, it was bad for his blood pressure.

  Blake finally met his eyes and then dropped his head in defeat. Carl then looked to Luke, who appeared to shrink back a little as well. Carl wanted to knock their skulls together.

  “Would you two knuckleheads look at what you've done to yourselves? You have a show in a couple hours! Luke, how do you plan on explaining that bruise on your face to your wife? Or how about you, Blake? You want to tell Lucy about yours? Are you proud of what you've accomplished? This is bullshit!”

  Fist fights had been a regular occurrence when they were younger. Carl couldn't count how many times he'd accidentally gotten socked trying break up another brawl between the boys. Blake and Luke always seemed to be the ones to use their fists first and their words last.

  Blake used the back of his hand to wipe the blood off his mouth. He looked at the red streak soberly for a minute and then sighed heavily.

  “I guess I overreacted,” he chuckled lightly.

  “You guess?” Carl glowered at him, but was relieved that the fight was over with as soon as it had started. “Frickin' rock stars and their frickin' issues.”

  “I'm sorry, Luke.” Blake took a step towards Luke and held out his hand in truce.

  Luke grabbed it and pulled Blake in for a hug. “I'm sorry too, man.”

  “Best friends again?” Carl asked dryly. They nodded in unison and smiled at him sheepishly.

  “Sometimes we have to work things out the old fashioned way.” Luke gave a half-smile and Carl rolled his eyes.

  Blake wiped more blood from his mouth. “You got me good, too.”

  “You've gotten quicker with that right hook. I didn't even see it coming.” Luke rubbed the already swollen area on his jaw. Blake grinned, breaking open the split in his lip even further.

  “You two need therapy,” Carl grumbled, and fished his phone out of his pocket. He stalked away while redialing David.

  “So, tell me the story,” David answered.

  “Apparently boys will be boys,” Carl said tersely and spit out his toothpick, fishing a new one from his front shirt pocket. “I was just thinking, maybe it's time I write my memoirs.”

  “Memoirs? Surviving Rock and Roll: The Life and Times of the World's Most Stressed-Out Tour Manager.” David chuckled at his own joke.

  “Don't laugh. You're the one who has to write it down.”

  ***

  Blake shouldn't have hit Luke. It wasn't his fault that Blake felt so helpless when it came to Lucy.

  And it was true, Blake couldn't expect to claim friendship only while keeping her reserved for whenever he got good and ready to stop being an idiot. But thankfully Luke was quick to forgive, as always, and Lucy wouldn't find out about the real reason for his split lip and black
eye.

  He had come up with a dozen different ways to keep Lucy from going to California with Shane. He lay awake at night, plotting, scheming and devising the most brilliant of ideas, and by morning he'd have circled back around to his original conviction: she deserved to be happy.

  Even if Blake convinced her to stay, it would be under false pretenses. And nothing would have changed. They'd be right back where they were the night she broke up the fight between him and Frank.

  The sound of the rain was so loud, Blake could hear it drumming through the walls and on the roof above him when he entered the apartment complex. He shook the water out of his hair and almost toppled over in the stair well. Setting down the half-drained bottle of Jim, he climbed the stairs, leaving wet footprints from his boots with every step.

  There had been only a threat of rain when he'd walked away from the buses at the venue. But by the time he'd gotten too far to turn back, he'd had enough whiskey that he didn't care much about the rain. He only cared about seeing her. It had been far too long. And he missed her. He couldn't wait to bury his face in her sweet, honeysuckle hair and hear her whisper his name.

  Stopping at her door, he raised his hand to knock, picturing that look of shock and elation she would bestow on him. Water ran out of his hair and down his neck, collecting in the collar of his shirt under his jacket. He rapped on the door and waited. It swung open and he gave her a crooked smile the moment his eyes hit hers.

  “I knew it. I frickin' knew it.” Lucy's mouth drew into a hard line and she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Hey, Lucky,” he greeted, leaning into the doorway, one arm braced on the door jamb. So she was pissed, wouldn't be the first time. He shrugged it off and raised an eyebrow. “You gonna invite me in?”

  “Who is it, babe?” A male voice came from inside the apartment.

  Lucy held his eyes as she let the door swing open further, and Frank Jackson stepped up behind her. He slid a hand around her waist familiarly, and Blake's gaze narrowed to that singular point of contact.

  “Hey, Diedrich.” Blake's body stiffened at the sound of his voice. Frank knew damn good and well he wasn't supposed to be here. Blake had warned him, repeatedly, to stay away from Lucy.

  “What the hell are you doing with my girl, Frank?” Blake growled.

  Lucy rolled her eyes and moved to close the door. “No. This is not happening.”

  Blake put his hand against the door and pushed it open forcefully. Lucy backed into Frank, who backed further into the entry way. Now, Blake was fully in the apartment and he could see the candles and wine glasses.

  “Is this some kind of a date?” he asked, hearing the slur in his words but not caring.

  “Blake, you're drunk. Go back to the bus and you can call me when you sober up.” Lucy hadn't raised her voice yet, which was surprising to Blake. Was she trying to put on a show for Mr. Rich Daddy Oil Douche?

  “Answer my question! Is this a date?!” He knew he was overreacting by the way Lucy took another step back, eyes wide, face pale.

  Frank stepped around her and glared at him. “Yes, actually. Now are you going to leave, or do I need to call the police?”

  That was the wrong thing to say. Blake took a step and hurled his fist into Frank's face. Frank staggered back as Lucy yelled in surprise, but then Frank reared up and threw his own punch. Even drunk, Blake saw it coming, blocked it easily, and answered it with a jab to Frank's gut that knocked the wind out of him.

  Blake let Frank reel around the room for a bit, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to decide if the guy deserved more. Frank looked up at him through a scowl, lowered his shoulder, and charged. Both men crashed through the open door and out into the hallway.

  Blake scrambled out from under Frank's weight, hauling the other man up by his shirt collar. He slammed Frank's back against the wall, his head bouncing loudly on the plaster. Frank shoved against Blake's chest, and Blake let go of his shirt and quickly connected his fist with Frank's face again. Blake felt and heard the satisfying crunch of broken bones against his knuckles. Frank cried out in pain and slid to the floor, covering his nose that was already pouring blood.

  “What the hell, Blake!” Lucy yelled, finally breaking through the thunderclap in his head.

  Frank tried to stand up, shouting curses, and Blake cocked his fist back again, but then Lucy stepped in front of his line of fire. He faltered.

  “What are you doing? What have you done?!” she shouted at him. Blake could see Frank behind her, blood still running down his face as he held his hands over his nose. Blake looked back to Lucy. Angry tears squeezed out the sides of her eyes and she shoved him, causing him to take a step backwards. He was right at the top of the stairs and she continued her advance, so he backed down the stairs carefully.

  “You wanna fight, big man?” she yelled. “C'mon, I'm not afraid of you!”

  Blake's mouth fell open as he tried to speak but it was harder being met by a gale force wind in the form of her fury and pain. “I can't—I would never hurt you!” he finally managed to shout back.

  She shook her head as her jaw clenched. “You're so thick,” she growled. “You can't even acknowledge that you already have.” Her words stunned him and his mouth fell open.

  “You sonofabitch! You're going to jail for this!” Frank spit from over Lucy's shoulder.

  “Yeah, you look real tough hiding behind a woman,” Blake snarled.

  Lucy's scowl darkened and Blake fixed his gaze on her again. She descended the stairs swiftly, grabbing his arm in a twist, and pulled him down the three flights. She opened the door to the outside and pushed him through it. He staggered and spun around, desperate to find her face through the rain.

  There she was. Standing right in front of him, arms at her sides, breathing hard, pain radiating from her eyes.

  “We're done, Blake.” Her hair was soaking up the water quickly and he couldn't tell the difference between tears and rain on her face. But he heard the finality in her voice and it burned right through his insides.

  He couldn't think clearly, whether it was from the whiskey or the adrenaline still racing through his body, he didn't know. But he was still confused and he still wanted answers.

  “What are you doing with him?” he shouted, and she closed her eyes in anguish.

  Then the fire came out.

  “It's none of your business anymore, Blake! You didn't want me! You've been gone—”

  “I came back!” he protested, gesturing wildly with his arms.

  “It's been a year since you were here last! You haven't even called!”

  Blake took a breath. A year? Had it really been that long?

  “You can't show up unannounced, drunk, and expect me to greet you with open arms! It doesn't work that way! You broke me, Blake! You finally broke me! I'm not your girl anymore!”

  She's not my girl anymore.

  Blake stood silent. His emotions were getting mixed in with his thoughts and he couldn't tell top from bottom. But her words hit something inside. They penetrated his thick layer of denial and he could see it on her face. She was broken. He had done that.

  “I'm with Frank now,” she continued. “He's good to me and he makes me happy. Hopefully he won't call the cops and have you arrested.” She took a breath and closed her eyes again. When she opened them, something more permanent had taken up residence inside: indifference.

  She's not my girl.

  “You can't come back anymore. And you can't call me. Especially if you're drunk.”

  He nodded his head and looked at the ground, letting the water beat down on him. Feeling defeated. Empty.

  “Promise me, Blake,” she demanded sharply. “Make a promise that you can finally keep.”

  Her voice was cold and he realized he'd lost her. She wasn't his girl anymore. The truth ripped through him like a hot blade, gutting him, leaving him lifeless.

  “I promise.”

  That was a night that stood out in Blake's mind as the
worst night of his life. He had been gone too long, had made too many promises without enough follow through. He'd gone into a jealous rage, not intending to start a fight, but Frank had always been able to push his buttons. His actions severed the delicate thread that had been keeping Lucy attached to him. He would never forget how she had looked at him. If a broken heart had a face, that was it.

  He could handle it differently this time, he could finally put her ahead of himself.

  “You're awfully subdued,” Sway observed from his perch on the arm of the couch in the green room.

  Blake gave a halfhearted shrug. “Looking forward to break, I guess.”

  “Really?” Sway questioned, unconvinced. “Looking forward to it, are ya?”

  Blake swallowed and looked around the room. It was mostly empty, Harrison and Mike were huddled over some music in the corner, and Luke was on the phone. The other band was on stage for their own sound check, an event that Blake had started to avoid the last couple of days. More for his own sanity than anything else.

  “I'll just be happy when it's over,” he confessed, a little surprised at his own honesty. He felt a little more broken and a little less protective after taking two hits from Luke Casey. Maybe he'd finally knocked something loose.

  “Why don't you just tell her how you feel?” Sway asked earnestly.

  Blake clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Because it's not time yet.”

  “What if she falls in love with the guy?” Sway outright stated Blake's worst fear.

  “Good, I hope she does.” Blake tried to look as unaffected as possible. Sway rolled his eyes but stopped pushing.

  “What are you gonna do for the week off?” he asked instead, pushing his blond hair out of his face.

  Blake had been hoping no one would ask him that question. Normally, he would lie, but he was trying to be a different person...a better person. That didn't mean that telling the truth got any easier.