Songbird Caged

by Lisa Edward

  The dinner gong rang. Seriously, they had a dinner gong. I guess if you were somewhere in another part of the house, you would never hear a normal person calling you for dinner.

  We were seated, as expected. Cole and Prue were at one end of the table. Victor and Mrs Michaels were on the side next to Prue. Mr and Mrs Harrington were on the opposite side next to Cole. Pops and I were way down the other end of the table. On a sixteen-seater table, there were four seats next to both Victor and Mrs Harrington, but they were left empty so we were sitting as far away from Cole as possible.

  Cole frowned as he took in the seating arrangement. He said something quietly to his mother who shook her head firmly before practically ordering him to sit down beside Prue.

  He looked at me apologetically, and I shrugged. I knew I would be made to feel like a leper, but I was angry at his mother’s treatment of Pops.

  Pops squeezed my hand to gain my attention. “So this is what the naughty corner feels like,” he joked.

  I laughed. “Yep, this is the fun end of the table. Better to be away from the stuff-shirts.”

  Pops giggled like a little boy, his eyes shining mischievously. “Well I couldn’t think of better company to be in.”

  I raised my eyes, still laughing, to see Cole watching us. He looked like he would much rather be down this end of the table, too. He raised his hand and waved, then mouthed something to me.

  I held my hand to my ear playfully. “Sorry, what was that?” I called.

  His eyes darted to his mother, who was giving her best impression of a prune face.

  “I just asked if everything was okay down there. Do you need anything?” he called back.

  Pops leaned forward. “You’ll have to speak up, my boy, I can’t hear you all the way down here.”

  I bit my lip, and dropped my eyes. While the three of us found our misbehaviour amusing, Cole’s mother was glaring at Pops and me.

  Cole pulled a soft pink peony out of the flower arrangement that had been centred at their end of the table. He folded his napkin into a paper plane and put the flower in it, then flew it down to me. The napkin was cloth, so it didn’t fly very well, but it did manage to just pass Victor who reached out and grabbed it, before carrying on the second leg of the flight to me.

  The first course was carried out by two servers on silver trays. It was seafood bisque, and smelt delicious.

  “You’ll have to excuse me if I slurp or spill,” I told Pops. “I’m left-handed, and I’m having trouble eating with my right hand.”

  “No problem, my dear girl. I slurp and spill, and I don’t have any excuse.”

  Laughing, I squeezed Pops’ hand. He was just the sweetest man you could ever meet, and always made me feel welcome. Unlike some of the other people at the table.

  I looked over towards Cole, still smiling, and met Prue’s spiteful stare.

  “Victor, darling,” Prue started sweetly as she rested her hand on Cole’s arm. “Why did you bring her to my birthday dinner? I mean, I know you feel sorry for her, but this is a family dinner, not a charity.”

  Cole slid his arm out from under her claws. “I don’t feel sorry for her at all, Prue. Tara’s more my family than you are. That’s why she’s here.”

  “But it’s not appropriate to bring her, Victor,” Cole’s mother chimed in.

  Cole turned to his mother. “You did invite her, remember? When we saw you in Paris last week.”

  Prue nearly choked on her soup. “You were in Paris last week, with her?” She glared at me.

  I smiled back sweetly.

  “Yep. I took her for her birthday. We had an awesome time, didn’t we, babe?”

  I grinned broadly. “Best time ever.”

  Prue forced a smile that turned into a sneer. “That’s wonderful. So, Tara, what do you do with yourself now? Victor has mentioned he sees you occasionally at a bar.” She grabbed Cole’s hand in her bony fingers again. “Perhaps you could attend the fundraiser we’re having next month. We’re always looking for good waitresses.”

  Bitch! And what was this we business? It wasn’t her fundraiser.

  “I can definitely give you the names of some good waitresses, but I won’t be able to work that night, I’ll be attending as a guest. Cole has already invited me.”

  Cole beamed at me. I had initially declined his invitation, but how could I refuse the chance to see Prue squirm?

  “Actually, Tara’s not a waitress, she part owns the bar, and is opening a restaurant,” Cole told them proudly. “You should see what she’s doing, and all the great ideas she has. There’ll be a burlesque-type show, not like the Moulin Rouge exactly, but something along those lines.” He looked at me adoringly. “And Tara will be in it, of course.”

  Prue sat there open mouthed. “You’re going to dance in your underwear,” she said disgustedly, like I was a hooker on a street corner.

  Cole gave me a wink. “Yes, and I’ll be there every night, cheering her on.”

  “Oh no you won’t.” Prue turned her steely gaze to Cole. “No husband of mine will be going to seedy bars, and watching girls flaunt themselves in their underwear.”

  The look in Cole’s eyes made me cringe, and I was some distance away down the other end of the table. “I will be supporting Tara in anything and everything she does. Besides, our engagement, Prue, is not set in stone.” His eyes darted to me before returning to Prue. “Things have changed since we were kids, and our mothers came to this hare-brained agreement.”

  I could just see it now. If Prue got her claws into Cole, we would quite possibly never see him again. She would try to make him change to become the Victor she wanted, and as hard as he tried, I didn’t think he would be able to resist her and his mother’s hold on him.

  “What’s on your hand?” she asked, distracted by the tape over Cole’s knuckles.

  Cole moved his hand from under hers, and showed her the tape. I had expected her to be concerned, but of course, she wasn’t. He had received more sympathy from the slutty stewardess on the plane than from his so-called betrothed.

  “Your hands feel like the hands of a labourer. Honestly, Victor, they’re so rough. No husband of mine will be putting his rough hands on me.”

  “I don’t have any complaints there, Prue. I’m more than happy to not put my hands on you.”

  I smiled, and looked down at my own hands.

  “Could that girl be any more conceited?” Pops whispered, shaking his head disappointedly.

  “She’s always been like that,” I told him. “Even when I was going to her birthday parties as a little girl she would have pony rides, and not let anyone else ride the pony.”

  The main course was served. It was rack of lamb. I looked down at my plaster cast, and back at the three lamb sections that were joined together, wondering how I was going to manage a knife and fork. I was just contemplating picking them up still intact and eating them like a Viking, when Cole appeared beside me.

  “Can I help?” he asked sweetly.

  I smiled, grateful that he had realised I couldn’t manage by myself.

  He pulled the chair that was closest to me even closer, and sat down, then proceeded to separate the lamb and remove the meat from the bone.

  I looked around the table, slightly embarrassed that I needed to be helped like a child. But I smiled when I saw Victor’s eyes. He wasn’t watching me; he was fixated on Cole, with a look of pride on his face that was quite overwhelming, as Cole diligently cut the meat into bite-sized pieces.

  Once Cole had cut up my dinner he went back to his place at the other end of the table, but he didn’t sit down. Instead, he picked up his plate and cutlery, and carried it back down to the seat beside me.

  “Enough of this ridiculous segregation. If we can’t all sit together, then I’d much rather sit down here with you.”

  He gave me a wink, and started eating as if nothing had happened.

  We chatted to Pops like we were the only people in the room. Pops asked me what I thoug
ht of the house, and I tried to express how impressive I thought it was, but words failed me. It was almost too much house to take in.

  “What was your favourite room?” Pops asked, interested by my opinion. “I bet it was the ballroom.”

  “The ballroom was impressive, but my favourite room was the library. I just love books and reading. When I was in my last relationship, I spent a lot of time alone. Quite often, I would spend an entire weekend curled up in a big chair reading, being swept away to another time or place. Reading was my salvation, in a sense. It took me out of the sad, lonely place I was in to a world where anything was possible.”

  I looked at Pops and Cole, embarrassed. That was no doubt way too much information.

  Time had gotten away from us. We needed to leave if Cole was going to make it back to Songbirds and the band by nine pm.

  We politely said our goodbyes, and with a warm hug, promised Pops we would be in to visit him the following Sunday.

  COLE CHANGED into his grungy jeans and T-shirt in the backroom, while I occupied a stool at the bar next to Nicole.

  “Wow, you look awesome,” she said, taking in my dress and hair. “Hot date with Cole that lasted—” She looked at her watch. “—until nine o’clock.” She raised her eyebrows jokingly.

  I quickly filled her in on the events of the evening, and told her all about Prue. I knew it wasn’t my business, but I needed to be able to talk to someone about the whole Prue-and-Cole engagement fiasco.

  It was the first time I had sat down to watch The Sons play in quite a while. I was always at the bar, but was kept busy running around, so usually only managed to catch glimpses of the show.

  Cole was amazing to watch. He held the crowd in the palm of his hand, and absolutely owned the stage. The way he interacted with the audience was like a master-class in performing. He was engaging, cheeky, suggestive at times, and thoroughly entertaining.

  Nicole and I got up to dance, and worked our way to the front of the stage. Cole reached out to touch our hands with a huge grin on his face. When he couldn’t get close enough, he jumped down off the stage, and danced with us as he sang. Girls around him immediately started touching him everywhere they could reach: on his chest, back, and ass, and ran their fingers through his hair.

  It made me so angry that they thought they had the right to molest him. I could see he wasn’t enjoying it, either. Whenever a hand reached for his crotch he turned his body, or batted the hand away. When he felt fingers tug at his hair, he jerked his head out of their grasp. As soon as the song ended, he climbed back onto the stage, safely out of reach of the pawing hands.

  He looked down at me, giving me a sad smile. Was this how it would always be? Girls who knew him thought he was such a man-whore that they had the right to touch him anywhere they wanted?

  I knew The Sons set-list well enough to know that the make-out song was next.

  I hadn’t watched Cole perform this song for a few months. The sight of him pulling a girl up onto the stage so he could gyrate on her, and make out with her, made my stomach churn.

  Excusing myself from Nicole and the dance floor, I dashed upstairs to Reds. I could still hear the band, but I couldn’t see them. I pulled out a fold-up chair and sat in the middle of the room. I would wait until the song was over before I resurfaced. It was the only way I could keep my sanity intact.

  Absentmindedly, I ran my fingertips along my lips. Cole’s had been the last lips to touch mine, and I could still vividly remember how they’d felt. His lips were soft, and full, but strong at the same time. His kiss had consumed me, rocking me down to my toes. Cole didn’t just kiss with his lips, he kissed with his entire body, and it made you feel it in your entire body.

  Yes, his were the last lips I had kissed, but mine were not the last for him. He had been with—I puffed out my cheeks trying to think—probably four or five girls in the last week and a half since we returned from Paris, and countless others that he had kissed, just for the sake of it.

  I buried my face in my hands, biting my lip, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. I was so confused. My lips should never have touched Cole’s. I was Riley’s, and they belonged to him.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to remember how it had felt to kiss Riley. I couldn’t remember; it felt like an eternity ago. I tried to picture his face, his smiling sapphire-blue Irish eyes. The only eyes that kept leaping to the front of my mind were sexy, and emerald-green.

  “Are you okay?” Nicole asked as she reached the top of the stairs.

  I shook my head as tears began to fall. “I’m forgetting him. I’m forgetting Riley.”

  She pulled up a chair beside me, and wrapped one arm around my shoulders.

  I leaned into her, resting my head against her. “It’s only been just over ten weeks, but every time I try to think of him or picture him in my mind, I can’t see him.” I sniffed back the tears. “It feels like there’s a dark cloud hanging over my head, and it’s blocking me from seeing him.”

  She rubbed my arm reassuringly. “You’ll be fine. He’ll be back soon, and you can spend as much time as you want together getting reacquainted.”

  Nicole was right. That was what I needed to do. Riley could be back in as little as three weeks, or at the most, three months. As soon as he came back, I would take him on a holiday. We could go back to Fiji, and rekindle our relationship. Maybe we could fall in love all over again.

  I just needed to hold on, and have faith that everything would work out. I knew I loved him—I just needed to remind myself why. I needed to keep the promise I had made to wait. I owed him that much.

  My phone rang, shaking me out of my dark thoughts. I checked the number. It was Kelli.

  I took a deep breath, blocking one ear with my finger to muffle the sound of the band before raising the phone to the other ear.

  “Hi Kell.”

  She was silent.

  “Kell, are you all right?”

  All I could hear were muffled noises on the other end of the phone. I got up and paced around the room, trying to find a quiet spot with better reception.

  “Kell, talk to me, what’s wrong? Is it the baby?” I asked, panic starting to swell in my gut.

  “He’s dead, Tara. Coop’s dead,” she managed to choke out.

  I unsteadily dropped onto a chair, the words echoing in my brain but not making any sense. How could Cooper be dead? He was going to be a dad, and get married, and have a wonderful life. No, he couldn’t be dead. How could fate be that cruel?

  “Oh God, no,” I whispered. Kelli’s words finally sinking in.

  My thoughts immediately raced to Riley. I needed to know what had happened, and if Riley was okay. They were always together, side by side, brothers in arms. If something had happened to Cooper, then Riley wouldn’t have been far away.

  “I’ll be right there,” I told her, as my legs threatened to buckle under me again as I stood. “I’m on my way, okay?”

  I managed to blurt out to Nicole what had happened as I raced down the stairs. I didn’t know what to do as I ran around frantically in circles. Did I tell Cole I was going?

  “Just go. I’ll let Cole and Marcus know,” Nicole said, giving me a quick hug.

  I checked my phone. There were no missed calls. Thank God, Riley must still be alive.

  I went to leave before remembering I didn’t have a car to get to Kelli’s. I was going to have to run home and get mine.

  Cole came over as soon as the band had finished their set. He started to ask where I’d disappeared to, but stopped when he saw my tear-stained cheeks, realising something was terribly wrong. I was trying so hard to hold it together and think, but one look at his face and I crumbled into his arms.

  “Take my car, or I can drive you.” He held me at arm’s length, and looked at my face. “I’ll drive you.”

  Kelli opened the door, her face flushed, and eyes puffy from crying. I didn’t know when she had received the call, but she looked like she’d been crying for h
ours.

  I didn’t know what to say. What do you say to your best friend when she has just found out that the love of her life is dead? “I’m sorry” just doesn’t cut it.

  So I hugged her. I held her and rubbed her back, and let her cry until she felt strong enough to pull away. When we had stood in the doorway for what felt like ten minutes, she finally let go and we went over to the couch and slumped down.

  I wanted to know what had happened, what she had been told. Was it during a fire-fight, or an explosion? I needed to know if it was just Cooper or the entire unit, but I couldn’t ask. She needed to tell me in her own time when she was capable. And right now, she wasn’t capable of anything other than bawling her eyes out.

  She lay her head down on my lap, and I stroked her hair. She was crying so hard I thought she was going to hyperventilate.

  I couldn’t believe the happy-go-lucky, jokester Cooper was dead, so I didn’t think the finality of the situation would have sunk in for Kelli, either.

  She would never see him again. Never hear his booming voice, or laugh at his silly mischievous jokes. He would never get to hold his unborn baby, or be the awesome dad I knew he would have been.

  She had wasted so much time being stubborn, and waiting for Cooper to propose to her. All that time that she could have spent with him instead of living apart. But she’d thought they had a lifetime ahead of them to spend together. She’d been wrong.

  It just wasn’t right. The more I thought about it, the angrier I was getting. He was too young, and had too much life ahead of him. In what universe did it make any sense for Kelli and the baby to have to live without him by their sides?

  I wanted answers, the facts of what had happened. It was the only way I could deal with this.

  Needing to keep busy, I made tea, then sat down beside Kelli again on the couch, slinging my arm around her shoulders. Finally, the tears started to subside enough that she could manage to talk.

  She had received the call just before she called me. All they had told her was that Coop had been killed in a helicopter accident.