“Good,” I said and entwined my fingers with his. I was so tired, so drained that I could barely move. “I could use having you around more.”
He wrinkled his face in thought, biting his lip.
“How about this? I got a couple weeks coming in vacation time…”
“Go on,” I urged him. I was too weary to think. I just wanted to hear it.
“I could just take that instead and finish today. We can have a few days together and I could call Elliott Bay and start there on Monday.”
“Okay,” I said. He made it sound so simple, so easy. “What about Montana?”
“Screw Montana. Someone else can go.”
“Good.” Right now I just wanted everything to be in order. I didn’t want to make any decisions for a while. The rest of the world could turn without me for a few days. I had Ian, I had my home, my husband, and I didn’t want anything more than that. I didn’t want the nightmares that were waiting for me.
“I’ll take the car and the paperwork into the office this morning. Then it’s just us.” He smiled. “I love you.”
I smiled back without the energy for words. He’d made the decision; he’d jumped, because of me. Right now I didn’t feel worth it.
“Hey,” I said, remembering something. I wasn’t even sure why it had sprung into my mind. “Tonia from The Rocket is moving to New York and she can’t take her cat. What do you think about us having him?” It seemed just inane and ordinary enough to be just right for what I needed at the moment. A dose of regular life.
“You think that’s a good idea with Ian?”
“Sure,” I told him. “It’ll be good for him.” Probably for all of us, I thought.
“If you want to do it, sure,” he said. “We had cats when I was a kid, I like them.”
I smiled. “I’ll give her a call. It’ll be a weight off her mind.”
It was nothing, really, but somehow it centered me and brought me back to the here and now.
After Dustin had packed all his work things in the car and driven off, Ian and I rediscovered all the presents he’d received for his birthday. Yesterday seemed a long time ago, separated by a deep gulf. I let him play, watching and thinking. He kept crawling in and out of May’s tent, vanishing into the tunnel, giggling happily. None of what I’d just experienced would ever touch him. Thank God for that, at least.
I was passing through the kitchen when the phone rang just after nine.
“Is it true?” Tonia asked. No Hey, how you doing, no Hello. “Carson Mack killed someone after his gig?”
The question jolted me straight back into the previous night, feeling so bitterly cold that I could hardly hold the receiver, once again smelling cordite and death.
“It is. I was there.”
“Oh, Christ, Laura. Are you okay?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “But I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“Sure.” She backed off. “Look after yourself. Give me a call when you’re ready to talk. I’ll have some work lined up for you.”
“Thanks,” I told her. “And we’ll take the cat when you move.”
“That’s great.” I could hear the relief in her voice. “Thank you. You get some rest and put your head together, okay?”
I’d no sooner hung up than May was on the line, asking the same question.
“Please,” I said, “can we talk about it later? I just can’t…”
“Sure,” she agreed readily. “You need help with Ian or anything?”
“We’ll be fine.” I smiled at the offer. “Thank you.”
Ian played some more. It was as if he knew that I wasn’t going to be good company today. My thoughts kept floating away. My body felt heavy, my arms and legs seemed to weigh a ton.
I made it through the rest of the day. The phone rang time after time. I let the machine take it and didn’t even listen to the messages. As soon as Dustin arrived home from work, briefcase empty, all the cares of the job gone from his shoulders, I kissed him, shook my head and crawled into bed, praying for sleep without dreams.
Thursday, Dustin looked after Ian. I woke, wished I hadn’t and slept more. It seemed I could barely keep my eyes open for half an hour at a time.
By Friday morning I was beginning to feel human again, ready to face the world. But I didn’t want to talk about it. If anyone tried, I was going to cut them off. My head felt heavy and way too full.
A little after ten-thirty I was passing through the kitchen and the phone rang. The light on the answering machine glowed green, the tape full of messages. Without thinking, I picked up the handset, glancing at the calendar. April 8.
“Laura?” It was May. I could hear a television in the background at her end. I was ready to tell her that I really didn’t want to tell her what had happened when she said, “Have you heard?”
“What?”
“Turn on your television - CNN, local, anything. They’re saying Kurt’s killed himself.”
“Kurt?” My mind was a fog. I was confused. I didn’t know anyone called Kurt.
“Cobain.”
About the Author
Chris Nickson was born and raised in Leeds and he first realised he wanted to be a writer when he was 11. As a teenager, though, music dug its claws into his soul, and for many years he played in the US, both solo and in bands like Harvey & the Larvae and Heat In The Room, that few people ever noticed. Finally, landing in Seattle, his passions met as he became a music journalist. Now, hundreds of interviews and thousands of reviews later, he lives back in England, still a music journalist, but also a novelist. He’s the author of five Leeds-based Richard Nottingham novels, The Crooked Spire (set in 14th century Chesterfield) and now his love of music, crime and Seattle have come together in the Laura Benton Emerald City trilogy.
Hear Chris Nickson’s Spotify playlists for West Seattle Blues and Emerald City.
And hear Gary Heffern singing Carson Mack’s song, “West Seattle Blues” here.
Also by Chris Nickson
“Emerald City” – first in the Laura Benton Emerald City Trilogy
May 1988: Why would Craig Adler OD? That was what music journalist Laura Benton wanted to know. He’d been clean for months, everybody swore it. And with his band, he was about to sign a major label record deal, the first of the new Seattle wave to break out of the Northwest. But as she digs into the story the pieces don’t quite add up – and then the threats begin. Just a phone call at first, then a bullet and more until dreams turn to nightmares in the Emerald City and Laura finds herself desperately fighting for her reputation - and her life.
“The Broken Token” – first in the Richard Nottingham historical crime series.
Pickpockets, pimps and prostitutes: All in a day’s work for the city constable – until work moves too close to home… When Richard Nottingham, Constable of Leeds, discovers his former housemaid murdered in a particularly sickening manner, his professional and personal lives move perilously close. Circumstances seem to conspire against him, and more murders follow. Soon the city fathers cast doubt on his capability, and he is forced to seek help from an unsavoury source. Not only does the murder investigation keep running into brick walls, and family problems offer an unwelcome distraction; he can’t even track down a thief who has been a thorn in his side for months. When answers start to emerge, Nottingham gets more than he bargains for…
“Solid Air: the Life of John Martyn” – the biography of musician John Martyn.
For over four decades, John Martyn was a musician’s musician (lauded by artists as disparate as Eric Clapton, Phil Collins and Bob Marley), a superb guitarist and singer who straddled the worlds of folk, jazz and rock, earning an OBE and being honoured with a Life Achievement by the BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards shortly before his untimely death in 2009. He was a true innovator, constantly pushing the boundaries of his music. He leaves behind a body of work that ranges from the beautifully intimate to the majestic, created during a turbulent, troubled, but uncompromising life -
all detailed in Solid Air.
To learn more about Creative Content’s eBook and audio titles, visit www.creativecontentdigital.com
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