Hard Lessons: (A Wild Minds Prequel Novel)

by Charlotte West

  “Have some cereal.”

  “I can’t have that shit. I’ll be bouncing off the walls. I need eggs, woman.”

  “Make them yourself then. Don’t forget you have to break the eggs before cooking them. You only eat the insides.” No joke, the man actually tried to scramble eggs once shells and all. Sometimes I didn’t know how he survived.

  “You’re the worst friend ever!”

  The band and Addy’s laughter followed me into the bathroom.

  I turned my face up to the sun, enjoying the warmth on my cheeks. The weather in San Francisco was fine, not nearly as stifling as L.A. Billy and the band had rehearsal, so I’d stolen Addy away to Fisherman’s Wharf. We were walking along the pier, Addy a few steps ahead of me. The girl had one speed—run.

  “So how long have you worked for Billy?” I dipped my chin and turned to Joseph. I’d invited him along when I saw him milling around the buses. He looked kind of pitiful, lost and alone. I’d always been a sucker for stray puppies.

  “Going on a couple years now,” I replied.

  “Any tips or tricks?” Joseph asked, hands in his pockets. I studied his profile. He had a five o’clock shadow, though it was morning. He wore casual clothes—jeans and a button-down flannel, with rolled-up sleeves. He was cute. Not hot like Billy, but there was something comfortable about him, plus we shared an interest in teaching.

  “I don’t know. I still haven’t quite figured him out. He’s a different kind of animal. I could give you a list of what not to do, though.” I’d learned Billy’s few triggers, the shit that really made him mad, or that he took seriously. There were two things. Addy and music. A roadie once called Addy a brat and Billy had him packing his bags the next hour. Billy even wanted to press charges. I’d told him there wasn’t a law regarding not liking a kid. Music was Billy’s lifeblood; he lived to create and perform. He took great care in the planning of the tour and shows. But I knew why now. He had something to prove. He’d been doubted, burned down by those he loved, and he’d risen from the ashes.

  “Oh yeah? Care to share?” Joseph nudged my shoulder.

  For some reason, I didn’t want to tell him of the deepest recesses of my boss’s black, sometimes soft, heart. I smiled. “Well you definitely shouldn’t put hair dye in his shampoo, or lecture him about smoking, or iron his shirts so there are creases down the middle.”

  Joseph whistled low. “You did all that?”

  “Billy and I had a rough start.”

  “But he kept you around.”

  “Don’t ask why. I earned my walking papers a long time ago. It’s probably because of Addy, she and I get along like a house on fire.”

  Joseph’s gaze lingered on me. “Yeah, maybe.”

  Up ahead, Addy let out an almighty shriek. My heart fell clean out of my chest. I scanned the crowd looking for assailants or a massive tidal wave about to roll in. No doubt about it, I’d stand in front of a bullet for that girl. “OH MY GOD, there are seals!” she screamed, running toward the railing. “They’re so fat and adorable. I want one!”

  I took a moment to catch my breath, pick my heart up and put it back in my body. “Addy, we talked about the whole shrieking thing.” I caught up to her, leaving Joseph behind.

  Set in the glimmering water on rotting docks were hundreds of seals sunning themselves. I put my elbows on the railing and leaned forward while Addy ran farther down. “There’s more down here!” she yelled. Joseph wandered to my side, taking the same position. There we stood, elbows touching.

  I gazed at the horizon, at the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz. “It’s really beautiful.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Joseph’s eyes weren’t on the scenery. They were on me. I laughed and he did too, both of us in an uncomfortable, embarrassed way. “Sorry,” he said.

  “No need.” How long had it been since someone called me beautiful? Billy had that Thanksgiving night, but that had been almost a year ago. And he’d been drunk. He hadn’t meant it. He hadn’t remembered it. Ouch, that still stung. He’d forgotten one of the most important moments to me. So unfair. But I was kind of glad. If Billy had remembered things could’ve gotten messy, complicated. Addy could’ve been hurt. Better to stay where I was, safe in Billy’s friend zone.

  “Daisy?”

  “Hmm?” I’d turned my cheek to check on Addy. She was barking at the seals, trying to get them to open up and communicate.

  “I don’t know if this crosses a line or something, so please tell me if it does, but I’d love to take you out sometime.”

  My mouth opened then promptly closed. “Like on a date?” Why did I need to clarify? Obviously, he meant a date. I was such a noob.

  “Yeah.” Joseph grinned. “You, me, at a dinner table set for two. We can talk, get to know each other better.”

  That sounded nice. An adult conversation. Maybe a few drinks. We did have similar interests. Why not? I grinned at Joseph, squinting my eyes against the sun. “Sure, I’d like that.”

  I groaned and rolled over, immediately regretting the action. Even the soft sheets hurt. Damn sun. Damn red-headedness and pale skin. I should’ve worn sun block during our outing to the pier. But I thought I’d be okay for an hour or so. Well, an hour turned to two then to three. By the end of the day, I was red as a lobster and felt like I’d been boiled like one, too.

  I’d put Addy to bed early. Every so often the bus vibrated with the sounds of the concert. Each breath was a study in pain. The music quieted. For a while all was silent except the aching throb in my head. Two Tylenol hadn’t numbed the pain. The bus door opened and I heard footsteps. Just a single pair. Since Addy and I had been staying on the bus the band partied in hotels and clubs, usually returning just before dawn then sleeping the rest of the day as the bus jumped locations.

  “Flower?” It was Billy. What was he doing back?

  “I’m in here,” I whisper-yelled, then groaned. Moving my mouth hurt. Maybe this was god’s way of telling me to shut up more often. “Addy’s sleeping, and I’m dying.”

  “What?” The alarm in Billy’s voice was evident. His footsteps drew closer and the curtain from my bunk was whipped open.

  I scrambled to cover myself, drawing a blanket up to my shoulders. “There’s no privacy on these buses,” I said, as loudly as possible without waking the child sleeping above me. Luckily for me, she slept like a rock. The sunburn on my face radiated down my body and I’d shucked the covers, and my pants, away long ago.

  “What’s the matter?” Billy crouched down and reached to touch my face.

  I batted him away. “The space between my ears hurts.”

  “You mean your head?”

  “Yes. Everything. My cheeks, my ears, my nose. Oh my god, my nose hurts so bad.” Maybe in a day or two I’d read my response as a touch dramatic. But I didn’t then. I thought it was fair given the state of pain I was in. As a child I’d rarely been hurt or sick. No broken bones. No chickenpox. No bleeding noses. I was healthy as a horse, my father used to say, though I did take offense at being compared to livestock. So on the rare occasion that I did get sick, it crippled me. I ceased to function.

  “What’s the matter?” Billy sounded scared. “Do you need a doctor?” He flicked on the light. I hissed at the light even though it didn’t actually make the sunburn worse. “My god, your lovely face? What happened?”

  I closed my eyes. “I’m sunburned.”

  “Sunburned?”

  “Yes.”

  “You mean all the I’m dying bullshit, all the theatrics is because you’re sunburned?”

  What an insensitive asshole. “Yes. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to die in peace and silence.” I turned from him. Couldn’t muster the strength to pull the curtain closed.

  “Nothing doing, flower. I’m here. I’m going to make it better.” Strong arms reached under me and I was lifted out of the bunk.

  “What are you doing?” I squirmed inefficiently against Billy’s hold. He carried me to the front of the bus and careful
ly laid me down on a velvet couch.

  “I’m rescuing you, kind of like in those terrible romantic movies you fancy. I’m going to be your hero, flower.” Billy went to the kitchen and wetted a towel. He came back to me and gently placed it over my face.

  I moaned. “That feels good.” The towel was cold and relieved some of the sting.

  “Still dying?”

  “It’s a little better,” I spoke from under the towel. “But it’s too soon to tell. Things are still touch and go.”

  “Jesus, and you call me a baby when I get sick. Pot meet kettle.” I didn’t respond. I felt Billy’s hand on my arm, his callused fingers tracing a path from my elbow to my shoulder. “You going to be okay for minute?”

  I made a sound of agreement. Billy left the bus. I don’t know how long passed. Long enough for my skin to heat the towel and for me to remove it, letting it drop to the floor with a wet plop. I’d clean it up later. Billy returned, rustling plastic sacks in hand. I scooted to a sitting position.

  “Did you go to the grocery store?” Color me surprised.

  “Trent drove me. It was a novel experience. I stood behind some snotty-nosed kid and his mother. They asked me for an autograph. If I get sick next, I’m going to blame you.” He pulled things out of the sacks—instant Jell-O, a bottle of aloe, cans of soup and a bag of hot dog-flavored chips.

  “Did you buy that stuff for me?”

  “Course I did. My mum used to feed me Jell-O and soup by the pound when I was sick. The chips are for Jett. He’ll get a kick out of them.” Billy fired up the stove. Then he set about opening drawers and closing cupboards.

  “Can opener is in the bottom right drawer,” I said, feeling helpful.

  “What do I need a can opener for?” he asked.

  I moved to get up. “I’ll make it.”

  Billy was beside me in an instant, pushing me back down. “Don’t move. You’re ruining my rescue.”

  I settled back into the couch. “You need a can opener to open the soup.”

  He grinned. “I knew that.” He so didn’t.

  “You’re out of touch.” Billy found the can opener. I watched as he struggled with it for a minute before figuring it out. He dumped the contents of the soup into a pot. “Why didn’t you go out with the guys?” I asked.

  His back was turned to me. Under his thin T-shirt I watched his muscles work. I pictured how his back would flex if he was on top of me, thrusting into me. Oh man, it was good my sunburn hid my flush.

  “Didn’t feel like it,” he said.

  “Didn’t feel like what?”

  Billy flashed me a concerned look over his shoulder. “I didn’t feel like going out.” Lust had clouded my thoughts. I’d forgotten I’d asked him a question.

  At his response my mouth opened and closed in surprise. “You didn’t feel like going out?” Color me twice surprised. I don’t think my heart could take any more shocks.

  He rummaged around the cupboards again, finding spices and some other things I couldn’t quite see from my vantage point. He began adding his finds to the pot. A strange, almost acidic smell filled the bus. “It’s not a big deal. I didn’t want to go out. Turns out I’m a rock star and I can do whatever I want.” He sounded petulant.

  A few minutes later and I was sitting up on the couch, bowl of soup in my lap. Well, it was supposed to be a bowl of soup. Billy stared at me expectantly. Spoon in hand I dipped it into the soup. Dipped might be the wrong word. Dug seems more appropriate. The soup was congealed, the consistency of Jell-O. I wondered if he’d accidently mixed the two. “It smells good,” I said smiling. It didn’t smell good. It smelled like vomit and skunk spray.

  Billy shrugged, a hint of pride on his face. “I added some stuff to make it better. That canned shit is always too bland.” He crossed his arms. “Well you going to eat it?”

  “Yeah, of course I am. I was just savoring the smell.” I pushed my spoon in further and lifted it to my lips. Here goes nothing. I already felt shitty from the sunburn, what’s a little tummy ache to accompany it? I chewed the soup. “Wow,” I said around my mouthful. “There’s something crunchy in it.”

  Billy’s mouth pursed. “It tastes like shit, doesn’t it?”

  I had to be honest. “It’s not the best soup I’ve ever had.” Then again, sometimes a little white lie didn’t hurt. “But it’s not the worst either.”

  The smile Billy bestowed upon me rivaled angels. I took a few more bites. Billy dumped dishes into the sink. He didn’t bother to wash them. Somebody would clean them later, one of the two housekeepers he dragged on the road with him. Or Addy would. She was going through a phase where she thought cleaning was fun. Favorite kid phase ever.

  Billy finished up in the kitchen. He grabbed the bottle of aloe from the counter and sat down on the couch. “Come.” He patted his thigh. “Lay your head in my magnificent lap.”

  I inched toward him and leaned down until my head was perched on his very hard thigh. He smelled good. Like cedar and just a hint of smoke. Despite my cheek’s tenderness I wanted to turn my head, nuzzle into his warmth. He squeezed some aloe onto his fingers and began applying it to my cheeks.

  The feeling was better than the wet towel. My eyes fluttered shut and I moaned. His fingers paused on my cheek. “Don’t stop, it feels so good.”

  “Fuck,” he said on a breath. His fingers started to work again, gently working the aloe into my cheeks. He adjusted his body on the couch and my head moved accordingly, just a little to the side so that it was turned inward, facing him. “How’d you get this badly burned anyway?” he asked, his voice coming out soft and husky.

  “I took Addy to the pier today. She had a great time. We saw seals. I’m afraid she wants one now. She’s going to ask you for one tomorrow morning. However long she bats her eyelashes at you, you must say no. I refuse to care for a seal.”

  Billy huffed out a laugh. “I am capable of saying no to her.”

  I popped open one eye and regarded him. “You’ve already bought her a car. She’s ten.”

  Billy frowned down at me. “That car was a steal. It isn’t every day you find a Maserati with crocodile seats for under a hundred thousand.”

  Those poor crocodiles. “She’s going to be spoiled.” I closed my eyes. Billy’s fingers had stopped again, so I brought my hand up, grabbed his wrist and shimmied it. “More rubbing please.”

  Billy sighed. “If I had a dollar for every time a woman told me that.” He squeezed more aloe into his palm and started on my forehead.

  “Oh, that’s so heavenly. It’s going to hurt more tomorrow.” The second day of a burn is always the worst. I dreaded the next forty-eight hours. “Joseph offered me sunscreen but I didn’t take it.” I didn’t want to mess up my makeup. Ah, vanity, the great destroyer.

  His hand stilled again. For god’s sake. I wiggled my head to get him moving. “Joseph came with you?” The rubbing recommenced. I closed my eyes and let my head relax against Billy’s thigh.

  “Yes.” Sleep tugged at my consciousness. “He asked me out on a date.”

  “He did, did he?” Was there an edge in Billy’s voice? I couldn’t tell. Sun sickness had stolen my reasoning.

  “Yep, we’re going to go out.” For me, tiredness was the equivalent of drunkeness. It gave me loose lips. “Then we’re going to fall in love and have chubby babies that wear glasses.”

  A hand traveled down my waist and squeezed my hip, tickling me. My body bent and I let out a tortured laugh. “The sunburn is making you mad,” Billy said. “Your children with Joseph would be hideous, pretentious hipsters.”

  “No they wouldn’t,” I said, in defense of my fake relationship. “Our children would be wonderful.”

  Another hip squeeze from Billy, another burst of laughter from me. “My opinion of you just lowered infinitely,” he said. “Take it back. Take back you want to have babies with Joseph.” Both of Billy’s hands came to my sides, tickling.

  I squirmed and laughed. In between giggles I sai
d, “Our children will be teachers and travel the world, imparting love and wisdom to all.” I wriggled and writhed, laughing, and somehow my body inverted itself. I was lying on the couch and Billy was on top of me. He stilled, lashes at half-mast as he gazed into my eyes. “My poor flower. All sunburnt and about to marry a vagabond teacher.” I shifted my legs, Billy pressed more firmly against me. I could feel his hardness on my tummy. His lips were a hairsbreadth from mine. If I lifted my head just an inch, we’d be mouth to mouth, kissing again. “You don’t really want children with that worthless man, do you?”

  “No,” I said, licking my lips. It was way too soon to think about Joseph like that. Plus any thoughts I had about long-term commitment and babies were settled around a certain rock star I couldn’t stop dreaming about.

  Billy moved his arms, hands coming up to cup my jaw. His thumbs caressed my bottom lip. “Thank god I’m here to set you straight. What would you do without me?”

  We stared at each other for a moment. I got lost in his eyes, in the swirling intensity, in the promise of passion. A car door slammed outside and along with it, a dog barked. The sounds sent me hurtling back to reality. Addy was just a few feet away, just a thin curtain separating her from us. “It’s getting late,” I said.

  “Yeah?” he said huskily.

  “We should go to bed.” I shimmied out from underneath him, capsizing to the floor with all the finesse of a drunk hippo. Billy moved into a sitting position and regarded me with a scowl. I stood, picking up the wet towel. I held it against my chest. “Thanks for the towel and soup and aloe. I better set this out to dry; it’s going to mildew if we just leave it. And you know, big day tomorrow.” We’d be driving all the way to Portland, Oregon. “I wanted to get Addy up early so we could get some outside time before the jump.” A “jump” was lingo for an all-day or night drive from one venue to the next. “Maybe I’ll get her some new markers or a new board game, too. We can all play.” My mouth wouldn’t stop running. I backed away from Billy, whose eyes followed me mercilessly, the flame of lust still burning. “Well, goodnight.” I darted behind the curtain. In the dark alcove I listened to Addy’s steady breaths, trying to match them with my own inhales and exhales. My hands shook. Addy comes first, I reminded myself. Addy comes first. But what about me? I thought. Didn’t I deserve some chance at happiness? Or at least the chance to explore this connection I had with Billy?