Gibson's Melody: (A Last Score Novella) (Last Score (Gibson's Legacy and Trusting Gibson))

by K. L. Shandwick

  Advice in the form of how to keep safe, welfare plans, accommodation, and help with resumes had helped many women from abusive backgrounds retrain or find jobs.

  After we’d eaten, a dark-haired woman of around fifty called Margaret took us to our accommodation. She gave us some further literature to read through before she left us to settle in for the night. As soon as the door latch clicked and we were left alone we glanced around the clean, simply furnished living room of the apartment and burst into tears. They were tears of relief because we’d made it.

  Almost ten hours after we went to bed I woke to find my mom sitting staring out of the window at the beautiful snow peaked mountains. I slid out of bed and wandered toward her. Her head snapped around as frightened eyes connected with mine for a second before she released her breath and sighed heavily. “Sorry, old habits die hard,” she said, dryly. I slid my arm around her neck and hugged her from behind.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  “Headache,” she offered.

  “It’s okay, Mom, we made it.”

  She stared anxiously back at me and although I could see she was still fraught with worry, she gave me a half-smile. “Yeah, we did,” she said in a relieved tone as she patted my hand.

  Soft knocking on the door drew our attention toward it and I went to see who was there. A young girl stood hugging a basket of toiletries under one arm and carried some fresh towels in the other.

  “Breakfast is going to be cleared away in a few minutes. It’s almost 11:00 am. Chloe asked me to come and tell you, she’d like to meet with you right before lunch at 1:00 pm. Her office is on the first floor, second door on the left.”

  I smiled as she slid the basket from her hand to mine and without waiting for me to reply, she headed back down the corridor. I was ravenous and knew my mom wouldn’t even have thought about eating so I prompted her to get dressed.

  Mom went through the motions of dressing still preoccupied by her change in circumstances. I knew if I didn’t push her she’d forget to eat. We were opposites in that trait— anxiety made me hungry.

  I wasn’t used to people pulling together and doing their best to help each other, but I quickly got the sense of a community that worked together. What was different about the refuge from others I’d read about was there were men present. Chloe’s view was domestic violence didn’t just happen to women. Anyone who had a genuine need was never turned away if there was space.

  Coming from a hostile environment I was freaked in the beginning when people openly hugged each other. Once it was explained it was part of the therapeutic techniques to break the barriers of the negative contact the families had at home it made sense. The newer ones flinched, a wary look on their faces while those that had been there for a while instigated those hugs.

  The only time I ever saw everyone on the same page was if Chloe or Gibson hugged them. Every man, woman, and child in that community accepted their goodness and kind words simply because they had provided sanctuary.

  For the rest of that day I remember how Mom looked nervously around her and I knew she had started to fear for her future, even though I thought at the time nothing could have been worse than she’d already been through. Little did I know breaking free from Colin was the least of my worries.

  I would never have connected the name Chloe Barclay at Safe Houses with Gibson Barclay, the larger-than-life rock God. When she gave me her name I figured it was coincidental, but when I saw her I instantly knew it was Gibson’s wife.

  There had never been any pretentious behavior from Chloe. She was one of the most humbled people I’d ever met. Mom said she was my guardian angel after Chloe had welcomed us into the safety of her safe house. From day one we were treated equally at the refuge but that quickly changed when our situation changed after just one week when Mom fell sick. Mom had complained of headaches and was found collapsed on the floor in the corridor.

  Memories of that hellish time were cloudy, like everything happened in a blur. Initially, staff thought it due to the changes in her emotional state because it was common for women to arrive at the refuge malnourished, and usually physically and emotionally fragile after being removed from the stress of their abuse.

  When Mom was no better that evening Chloe asked for more tests to be done. Four hours later Mom had a full body scan which revealed the devastating news. Yet further investigations uncovered a very aggressive form of breast cancer with metastases of the brain. I was stunned. Mom had never complained of anything apart from headaches and occasional twinges in her back.

  Being told her cancer was extensive and the only treatment open to her was palliative care made me freak out. I thought my heart would break after all we’d been through and for that to happen to her.

  Watching my mom cry and apologize for being sick was heart breaking. She was more scared about leaving me behind than dying. I felt selfish for being petrified about my future alone and even considered taking my own life to be with her.

  Seeing my mother fade day after day was the scariest and loneliest time in my life. Instead of starting a new life together where we got to experience a life without fear, hers was rapidly ending.

  After a fortnight Mom’s decline was visible from hour to hour. One day I’d try to be brave the next I’d break down and crumple at the foot of her bed with grief. Chloe and her team were supportive and +tried to be reassuring but at seventeen years old how could anyone reassure me I’d be okay when my only parent was going to die?

  Whenever I was around her I tried to stay calm but as soon as I left her bedside I became vicious and angry, lashing out whenever one of the staff tried to placate me. Even on the days I felt I couldn’t face being with her Chloe encouraged me to spend every waking moment with my Mom.

  When Gibson arrived home from a short tour away I was surprised when he and Chloe came to see me together. I hadn’t seen him around since the day after we’d arrived and took it to be his visits were more about seeing Chloe than anything to do with the center. But that didn’t fit either because I saw how everyone else embraced him with a comfortable familiarity and figured we’d just arrived as he’d left.

  Gibson and Chloe had obviously discussed me and had thought ahead to the time when my mom was no longer around. Very tactfully and with great sensitivity they dealt with the elephant in the room. I was still a minor and when my mom passed I’d be an orphan.

  With Mom’s agreement legal papers were hastily drawn up by Gibson’s lawyers and after discussing my status with my mom, he and Chloe became my legal guardians. I asked how long that would be for and his initial response was a sincere sad smile and a piercing look.

  He reached for my hand and pulled me into a hug and made me feel safe immediately. “For as long as you want us, darlin’,” he’d said. I leaned back and stared at him in disbelief because my whole experience from the moment I’d arrived at the ranch had been life-changing, but not in the way I’d expected.

  The situation I had found myself in was bizarre. It felt like some psychedelic dream I’d wake up from, but it wasn’t. I stood was wrapped in the arms of Rock God, Gibson Barclay, and I had just listened to him as he conducted an incredibly detailed conversation with my Mom about my future and agreed to parent me.

  Facing up to some of the thoughts that I’d buried in the back of my mind still felt horrendous, but his words touched me in a way I could never explain. Tears burned in my throat as my heart both relaxed and squeezed.

  A rock star and his wife had agreed to keep me safe, and for most teenagers that would have been sick. For me it only made the reality of my mom’s death more vivid in my mind. The best I could feel was they had made the most devastating time in my life a little easier to face.

  My future without family felt overwhelming. For the first week after the burial I had lived in a defeated daze. I was furious with God, myself, and I hoped I never showed it, but with my mom for leaving me alone.

  Angry thoughts constantly swam inside my head and festered
in my belly because she couldn’t find it in her to fight anymore. And I felt even worse whenever I thought about how we’d finally started to live the lives we were supposed to have only to find out my mom had already begun dying. She was so sick that by the time she was diagnosed with her cancer it was too late. In my darkest moments, I had wanted to die too.

  Eleven days after the funeral Chloe knocked on my studio door. She’d been really kind but when she stated that she knew how it felt to have no-one at a vulnerable time I almost bit her head off. I stared in anger and felt patronized. I thought she had no idea how I really felt and thought she said it to comfort me. Just as I was about to blow I saw a pained look pass through her eyes and knew instantly she really did understand my needs.

  We talked openly into the night and I was surprised by her confident parental approach to helping me figure out what I’d do next. I was determined to graduate. I owed that to my mom. She’d suffered everything Colin had dished out in the hope I’d have a better life than she had.

  When I had left school so abruptly my non-attendance elsewhere had put me behind with my studies, but I was still afraid and I didn’t want to attend another school in case Colin tracked me down. He was devious, and clever, and I knew he’d find some way of getting to me. The thought of ever seeing him again gave me made me sick after what he put my beautiful mom through.

  Even though Gibson and Chloe said they’d be my guardians I still felt weird because I’d already extended my stay at their retreat. When I voiced this to Chloe she agreed.

  “You’re right. We didn’t want to push you and seem insensitive to your grief but the longer you are here the less help we can offer to another family in need.”

  My heart sank and I knew we had nothing. Gibson had already settled all the legal and medical bills associated with my family and I thought it wasn’t appropriate for me to continue school when I had to pay my way.

  Facing up to the future was the last thing on my mind. “I’m sorry, Chloe. If I can just stay until I find work or I can sleep in the barn or something.”

  Chloe’s eyes widened in shock. “Jeez, Piper. No. I meant you should move into the house. Gibson and I are going to take care of you for however long you want. Lifelong if you want us. Trust me, we’re not just carrying out a paper exercise with you, honey. I’ll speak to the housekeeper about your room. Maybe you’d like to come over and pick out which one you’d feel most comfortable in?”

  Choked with emotion I swallowed three times past the lump in my throat as my eyes welled with tears. “Come here, honey, I know it’s a huge ask at a time when you’re feeling so vulnerable but believe me, Gibson and I will do everything we can to help you become part of our family.”

  Stepping into her arms I let the tears flow because I no longer had the strength to hide how I felt as I allowed relief to wash over me. Whenever Gibson and Chloe held me it had felt like the home I’d never had. Gibson like the protector I’d never experienced and Chloe like the one person in the world who got where my head was at. I was still extremely grief-stricken but mingled amongst moments where I was able to breath. At those times I told myself there was hope.

  Chapter Two

  Sobering Moment

  Gibson

  “Who wants to party with us?” I yelled and pointed at the weedy looking nerdy guy with the long straggly hair and square rimmed spectacles in the front row. Droplets of sweat dripped from my hair and stung my eyes, as the heat beat down relentlessly from the spotlights suspended above me. I lifted the hem of my sodden T-shirt and wiped my face.

  The crowd went berserk when I gave them a glimpse of my body and all I was doing was trying to see. Glancing further along, I saw five college girls all in a row, one sweet looking with her perfectly straight black hair. They were just a few of the thousands of girls sat with their tongues hanging out wanting a piece of me.

  At one time I’d have nodded at one and they’d have been hanging back waiting for me after the gig, but my life was so far removed from the manwhore I was then, to where I am now. My mind flashed back to the sweltering conditions we’d been used to in the cramped bars we performed in night after night. Those girls were essential to my performance both during and after the gigs. They sure kept me trim…fucking and running. The lifestyle of a teenage musician was pretty awesome if a bit chaotic but playing music and getting laid was what I used to live for.

  Glancing down at the audience the sweet angelic face of a girl smiled widely up at me. It tugged at my heartstrings but not in the way you’d think. Chloe and I had been trying for a kid of our own and by that night we were down to hoping for a miracle.

  Some would say it was a good thing I hadn’t been blessed with a kid, but they’d have been judging Gibson the boy. Gibson the man was determined to be a bigger man, and that was all down to the love of a good woman—Chloe.

  Had my mom been alive she’d have told me you get what you’re given in this world and not what you want. If that was true then the good Lord had decided that kids weren’t to figure in our future. Without going into it too much when I found out what the problem was I was glad that Kace, Chloe’s ex-partner, was still serving his twenty year sentence for what he did to her.

  In the beginning Chloe couldn’t see past my manwhore legacy and for a while there I guess I couldn’t see past hers. Kace’s promiscuity had left Chloe infertile which was a bum deal considering she’d only ever been with two guys. The news left Chloe devastated and when she found out she had wanted to leave me. Even although she was hurting badly she had still been thoughtful enough not to want to deny me the chance to have a child because of a bad choice she’d made.

  Convincing her that what happened, or the consequences of that were her fault wasn’t easy but eventually I wore her down. It took a lot of love and persistence and gradually she accepted I’d rather have her than ten kids in my life. To me it wasn’t the end of the world because I figured we could still spread our love by caring for others.

  My eyes scanned the crowds again and a small dark haired girl with huge brown eyes caught my gaze. We connected in that second a flashback image almost threw me off my lyrics. Heavy eye make-up couldn’t disguise my familiarity to her. My eyes roamed over her then I noticed a kid beside her holding a placard up which said, ‘Gibson and Kiran 2008’. I glanced at the kid’s T-shirt. In bright silver glittery letters, emblazoned across the front it read, ‘Made in Chicago’. My heart literally stopped for a beat.

  Kiran? The name was unusual but I’d heard it before. Closing my eyes for a second I tried to draw an image from the recesses of my mind but nothing emerged.

  Turning to Mick I wandered over and shouted in his ear, “Ten o’clock about eight rows back. You get the same vibe from that message as I’m getting,” I asked. Mick continued to play but moved across to their side of the stage for a better look. “Damn, looks like a lawsuit in the making,” he shouted back when he came back over to me.

  “Shit.” My world fell from under my feet and turned toward Syd, my manager who stood in the wings. Nodding at Mick he knew instinctively what I wanted as I exited the stage to have a word with him.

  “What the fuck’s wrong?” He asked bending forward with his hand cupped over his ear.

  “There’s a woman with a kid out there and I think she’s mine.”

  “You’re fucking joking, right?”

  “I wish—” I stood feeling helpless.

  “And I wish I had a Buck for every woman that’s claimed you’re the father of their baby,” he chuckled, brushing it off because we’d faced accusations before.

  “Not this one. I got a feeling. Shit,” I replied and ran my hand through my sweat-soaked hair. I felt blindsided by the image of the girl still in my head while Mick did his best to cover for my absence on stage. Len continued to play a repetitive cyclic percussion on the drums but glared in a what-the-fuck-get-your-ass-back-out-here look.

  “Why do you think there’s something in this?”

  “I’
ve got a photograph of my mom as a kid and this one looks the spitting image of her.”

  “You sure? I mean it’s dark n’all.” The grim look he gave me said what I already knew. I’d be swimming in shit with Chloe if what I felt in my gut was true.

  “Invite them backstage. I can’t think—” I fell silent leaving him standing there as I made my way back out on stage to the roar of the crowd. I made a joke about drinking too much and having to take a leak in the middle of the concert. The audience laughed in unison and I launched straight into the next song.

  For most of the following song my eyes were glued to the woman and the child. It was fortunate it wasn’t one of the newer songs I was singing at the time so I did that on autopilot while my mind continually sifted through my vague memories. There were only a few I remembered during the year before I met up with Chloe again and then it came to me. The girl with the kid was a stripper I’d fucked one night when I was wasted.

  Jesus, Chloe is gonna have my balls.

  Chloe and I had been together for almost seven years and the kid looked like she was in the right age range to have been conceived before I met her—but not by much. Instinctively I knew the kid was mine.

  What an almighty clusterfuck. Just when I’d secured Piper’s position. My heart wasn’t in the rest of the gig. It was too busy lying at the bottom of my stomach and I couldn’t wait for the show to be done. Instead of three encore songs we played two then I called it a night. Drenched in sweat my chest felt tight with anxiety.

  Before Chloe I lived how I wanted to and never answered to anyone. I never made excuses for who I was and I never gave a damn who I screwed. The only criteria I had for women was they consented, were pretty and available. The rest either happened or it didn’t.