Under A Blue Moon : Indigo Knights Book IX

by A. J. Downey

  “Cool. Cool.”

  We hung up after a couple more seconds of chitchat and I stowed my phone and looked up the street. I turned to look at the café, but Saylor wasn’t there. Not yet. I had a couple hours before my shift, and I wanted to hit the grocery store and get some food in my place for the both of us.

  It was going to be a long day.

  When I pulled into the alley to park my bike at the 10-13, the last thing I expected to see was Saylor standing out front, strumming her guitar, chin held high, smile slight, her breath pluming the air as she sang her heart out on the sidewalk.

  I parked, shut off the bike, but I was still too far to hear. When I got up to the corner I paused and listened a moment.

  You tear me up like no one can do

  You carved a home in my soul.

  Promised my heart to you, you cut me through

  I'm wheeling out of control.

  The tempo was upbeat, her voice clear as she sang,

  If your love is poison, drink it down to the dregs

  If your love's a knife, run me through

  Whatever it costs me, no other I'd choose.

  I cut myself to pieces for you

  I walked around the corner and met her mismatched blue-green eyes. She smiled a little bigger, those eyes lighting up with surprise as she went into the refrain. I wiped suddenly sweating palms on the thighs of my jeans and with a nod to Saylor Grace, reached for the door into the 10-13.

  She smiled and I let a group of people out, holding the door for them as I stepped in and Saylor didn’t miss a beat, just smiled a little bigger, made eye contact with me and kept right on belting out her song.

  I don’t know what I’d honestly expected, but she was good. Damn good. A lilting voice with just enough country in it. Not quite bluegrass-y… I didn’t know what you would call it but ‘folk’ was the closest I could come. It was beautiful, and I was glad when one of the women leaving the 10-13 dropped a dollar or two into Saylor’s open case.

  I didn’t want to distract her, so I just went in and threaded my way through the bar area to the fishbowl and found my seat at the table.

  “The man of the hour,” Skids drawled and I frowned at Yale who raised his eyebrows and looked completely unapologetic.

  I looked to Blaze and said, “Looks like you get to meet Saylor Grace a little sooner than the weekend,” I declared.

  “Dude, not funny.” Golden scowled and I scowled right back.

  “Settle down, now,” Skids said and Yale brought his fingers down from where he had them steepled in front of his chest.

  He leaned forward and said, “Sorry, not sorry, Poe, but you were right. I met her, handed over your key and I have to admit… I like her. She doesn’t set of any alarm bells and she truly does seem both grateful and protective of you. You were right, she’s one of the good ones.”

  “That being said,” Skids interjected, “I really fuckin’ hope for your sake that this is a one-off thing.”

  “Totally is,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender.

  “That’s why I engineered her being here,” Yale said. “You were also right in saying she had to be met to understand where you were coming from. I figured that this way, everyone could and it would cause a lot less strife.”

  “Ain’t nobody here upset with you, bro,” Oz added. “We’re just worried, that’s all. This shit is way off your baseline.”

  Murmurs of agreement swept around the table and I realized – we were all here. It wasn’t very often we got the dozen of us, butts in seats around this table. It was kind of a rude awakening for me.

  “I didn’t know you cared,” I said, throwing a little sarcastic edge onto my tone. Except I guess I hadn’t. I mean, not really. I was the quiet guy, sure – but often times I felt completely unnoticed. This shit, everybody being here like this because I’d done something even remotely out of character? While it was somewhat annoying because on one hand I felt like everyone was second guessing me, on the other hand, shit, these guys cared. Had my back in unexpected ways and damn I was grateful to be a part of this squad.

  “Look man, I know we all get wrapped around the axle with our own shit – but hell fuckin’ yeah we care,” Driller said, leaning back in his seat.

  “You ain’t ever done anything like this. We know being a cop is all you’ve ever wanted and for you to risk that – are you sure you’re okay, bro?” Golden searched out my face.

  “I’m seriously fine, man. Just something about this particular case – I couldn’t not do something this time.”

  “Wait, go back,” Angel said. “Rewind back to what you just said.”

  I looked over at him and mulled it over.

  “I guess I’ve been feeling frustrated lately,” I said. “Like, I get out there and do my fuckin’ job and shit but I’ve been feeling like it doesn’t do a damn bit of good, you know?”

  Church turned into a bit of a support group with the admission, and I was glad to hear I wasn’t feeling alone. It was somehow freeing to be validated by my brothers and disheartening in the next breath to know that it was literally across the fucking board. That it didn’t matter if we were cop, fire, medical, or even the fucking lawyers. We were all operating in this perpetual state of burnout.

  “What’s going on with getting you a house, man?” Narcos asked.

  I sighed. “Got a real decent chunk saved,” I confessed.

  “Time to find a realtor?” Backdraft asked.

  “Close.”

  “Maybe it is. Maybe to help you through this, you need something good to focus on. A project that won’t blow up in your face and ruin your career,” Golden said.

  “You really have no faith in me, do you?” I asked him and he fixed me with a solid gaze and shook his head.

  “Oh, I trust you. I just don’t trust her. Not yet anyway.”

  “Have you talked to her?” I asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “You maybe want to reserve judgment until you do?” I asked.

  “No, not really,” he said evenly.

  Angel, his twin, rolled his eyes and fired off at G. in Spanish. Oz chuckled, and then full blown laughed at whatever G. shot back at his brother.

  “English, motherfuckers!” Driller called, grinning. We were all smiling and laughing and the mood in the room was way improved by the time the meeting was called.

  “Oh, hey, looks like a prime time to call your girl up here,” Driller remarked.

  I looked back over my shoulder and over to the bar where Saylor was smiling and accepting a paper coffee cup, her guitar back in its case, braced between her feet; trapped between her body and the bar.

  “Shit, hold up,” Skids said and went to the door and called out, “Hey, hold up, no charge for the tea, man.”

  The bartender manning the bar lifted his chin and waved Saylor off who smiled cheerfully in Skids’ direction. Her smile growing when she caught me looking her way.

  “Why don’t you come on up here, Saylor?” Skids invited.

  She nodded, picked up her guitar by the handle, and headed our way.

  “Um, hi…” she said stepping into the fishbowl and we heard a peal of laughter from the ol’ ladies table. Unfortunately, while all of the men of the Indigo Knights were in the house, not all of the women could make it. Probably a little over half of them were at their usual table as they played a round of darts.

  “How’s your night going?” I asked.

  “Good!” she declared. “Not the most lucrative spot, but not awful, either. It’ll get better here soon when it heads into the holidays. I make a killing at the really old carols.”

  “Come take my seat,” Skids said. “You’ve been out there on your feet all day.”

  “Oh, I’m fine, really.” She laughed him off and I smiled at her.

  “Don’t make him insist,” I said. She took the seat then, and I added, “And don’t any of you fuckers start grilling the woman, either.” There was laughter and she blushed faintly.
>
  “You know for a performer, I actually hate being the center of attention?”

  There was laughter and I did my best to pull some of the attention off of her by introducing all of the guys in turn. She made it a point to get up and shake everyone’s hand and the respect she showed everyone was genuine and real. A little while in her presence and anybody that had been hanging onto their doubts visibly started to let them go. Except Golden. He took a little extra work and a few minutes wasn’t going to do it.

  “You going out there for more?” Reflash asked.

  “Oh, no. I think I’m done for tonight. I’m probably going to figure out the busses here soon and go get some sleep.”

  “I can give you a ride,” I said. “You are going my way.”

  She laughed lightly and said, “This is true.”

  “Don’t forget your food,” Skids reminded her, and I felt a knot in my chest loosen, glad he’d taken care of that for her.

  We stayed a little longer beyond that. Shot the shit with the guys and introduced Saylor to the ol’ ladies of the squad.

  Finally, it was definitely late enough, the place starting to close down, the only patrons left were club, and tired staff going through their closing routines.

  “It was nice to meet you, Saylor,” Coco said and Saylor smiled. “You too!”

  Skids handed her a plastic grocery bag with her leftovers and a look of surprise crossed her face fleetingly at the heft of it. I didn’t say anything, but knowing Reflash, he’d hooked her up with more of whatever she’d had.

  “Ready to go?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  We went out, Blaze coming with us, Narcos and Driller were standing in the alley near their bikes with Youngblood and Chrissy having a final chat.

  “How are we supposed to do this?” Saylor asked, and I smiled at her.

  “Paracord and a prayer,” I said.

  She blinked and said, “Oh, hell no.”

  I laughed. “I was only partially serious. I used paracord last time, but didn’t have a passenger, so this could be just a little trickier.

  “Mm, no it won’t,” she said eying the line of bikes, “but I’m going to need some help.”

  “You ever ride before?” I asked.

  “A dirt bike, back home when I was like thirteen and never with a guitar. My granddad had liked to kill me when he found out about it, too.”

  I took her over near my bike and swore softly. “Anybody got a spare helmet I can borrow just for tonight? Mine’s at home in the top of my closet.”

  “Yeah, I got you,” Oz said, coming around the corner.

  “Where’s Ellie, anyway?” Backdraft asked.

  “Wanted to stay home and paint, she hasn’t gotten much time to herself to do her own thing. Big project came in at the museum and it’s takin’ like all of their restoration people to work on it.”

  “What the fuck she working on?” Narcos asked.

  “Big fuckin’ renaissance painting. Sucker’s like twelve feet. She took me to see it and I was like damn!”

  “Wow,” Saylor murmured. “What’s she doing with it?”

  “Cleaning it and restoring some of it. Fixing tears in the canvas, that kind of shit.”

  “That sounds amazing,” Saylor said and Oz grinned.

  “That’s my Ellie. I’m proud as hell of her. She’s leading this project up.”

  We got Saylor set, and she sat on the back of my bike and took her backpack off while I held her guitar. She lengthened the straps as far as they could go and knotted them so they wouldn’t slip through the metal slide things. She shrugged into one side and said, “Okay, set it up here?” I held the guitar to her back and Chrissy came forward and pulled the backpack strap left dangling around the guitar so Saylor could shrug into it on the other side. She pulled and tightened things as far as she could, trapping the instrument to her back and it was pretty secure.

  “Not a bad idea,” I said.

  “Ain’t you afraid that thing is gonna catch wind and rip right out the top and take you right over the back of the bike?” Driller asked.

  “Not really, I’ve made this work on the back of a bicycle before, except I had trouble with it slipping out the bottom, then. With the wide seat stopping it, I think we’ll make it.”

  “I’ll go slow where I can,” I promised her, dropping the borrowed lid Oz held out to me on her head. I helped cinch the chin strap.

  “Alright you guys.” I clasped hands and knocked shoulders with everyone. “I’ll see you on the flip side.”

  “Later man,” Youngblood called.

  “The Blue Line?” Blaze asked when I got to him.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe not tomorrow, day after?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded.

  “Cool.”

  I got on, and Saylor hung on.

  “You good back there?” I called over my engine after I started it.

  “Yeah!” she called.

  “Good, ‘cause here we go!”

  8

  Saylor…

  The ride was cold. I mean really cold, and it was already cold out here to begin with so that pretty much meant that by the time we pulled into the garage under Poe’s apartment, I felt frozen to my very soul. My teeth chattering uncontrollably, I leaped up as soon as he shut the engine off.

  “Ah, shit! Be careful of the pipes!”

  “I’m fine,” I said startled and he let out a breath pent up with worry.

  “Pipes are hot, always dismount on this side to be safe, okay?”

  “Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “It’s cool,” he said. “I’d just feel really bad if you got hurt.”

  I paused and considered him, hooking my thumbs in the straps of my backpack and holding them out, keeping my guitar tight to my back. It’d been an unwieldy ride and I kept feeling like it was trying to slip, but we made it just fine, laughing and giggling.

  “Here, I got it.” He grasped the top of my case and I shrugged out of my backpack. It swung wide and tagged him in the stomach and he ‘oofed.’

  “I’m sorry!”

  He grinned and laughed a little and said, “It’s fine, I’m just yanking your chain.”

  “You got it?” I asked softly, worried.

  “I got it, I’m right behind you,” he said. I nodded and trusted him to carry up my most prized possession.

  “You wanna try your key so I know it works?” he asked. “I didn’t get to come back here and test it, but I’m pretty sure it’s fine.”

  I fished out my key from my breast pocket and stared at it for a moment as the monumentality of it crashed into me and I teared up for a second.

  I had a key. I had a roof over my head when I needed it and even though it was temporary, the added security of it? God, that was huge.

  “Hey, Saylor Grace, what’s wrong?” he asked and I sniffed.

  “I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for all of the things you’ve done for me. I mean, I haven’t had a roof over my head in so long and even though it’s temporary...”

  He sighed softly and set my guitar against the railing, taking the bag of takeout off from around my wrist and setting it down.

  “Come here,” he ordered gently and wrapped me in a tight hug.

  I let him, my gratitude multiplying as I wrapped my arms around his waist and it was like things just clicked… and I felt the safest that I think I had ever felt in my life, barring when my granddad had been alive.

  I sniffed, silent tears dripping down my nose and put my ear to his chest and just listened to his steady heartbeat.

  I don’t know how long we stood there like that, him gently rocking me, twisting gently side to side, his leather creaking and sighing in the chill November night. Eventually, he broke the spell of calm ever so slightly by murmuring where my hair peeked out of my hat, “Let’s get you inside and warmed up. K?”

  “Okay,” I whispered back, my voice stronger than I expected it to be.

  I st
epped back and all I wanted to do was rush back into his embrace. To feel that safety, that warmth that had nothing to do with the actual temperature.

  I instantly felt guilty for wanting those things. I mean, hadn’t he done more than enough for me already? Wasn’t this supposed to be temporary, anyway?

  The key fit perfectly, working like a charm. I unlocked the door and got emotional all over again.

  I pushed my way into the warmer apartment and turned, Poe smiling down on me and gesturing for me to get in the rest of the way. I stepped into the kitchen and he handed me my food. I put it in the fridge and said, “I know I didn’t have this much left.”

  He chuckled and said, “Knowing Reflash, he dumped another one of whatever you ordered right on top.”

  “I think he did.” I turned and he straightened from sliding my guitar safe under the bed.

  “How’d you do today?” he asked.

  “Almost as good as yesterday. It all adds up. I have to find one of those coin machines tomorrow. My Crown bag is getting full.” I shrugged out of my backpack and dug around in it, hefting out the Crown Royal bag full of coins. I had to use both hands otherwise I risked tearing it.

  Poe let out a low whistle. “That’s quite a haul for only two days, Saylor Grace.”

  I shrugged. “About thirty or forty bucks, I think. I’ve been trying to keep track, but I can’t always. You don’t want to be flashing too much green out there. That’s how you get your bag ripped off.”

  “Here, let me tuck that away for you and get something hot to drink going. You’re still shivering.”

  I nodded and went around him into the room, going to the closet and plucking my sleepwear off the top of my suitcase in the back. I hung up my jacket and slipped a towel down off the shelf.

  “See you in a few,” he said.

  “I’ll save you some hot water.”

  “No need, I took one back at the station. I do anytime we have church.”

  “Church?” I asked curiously.

  “Club meeting.”

  “Ah, strange thing to call it.”

  “I guess so.” He kneeled by my side of the bed and stuffed my backpack in the cubby in the front of the nightstand, the Crown bag, he set on top.