A Blue Tale (8 page)

“Then we will, tomorrow.”

“But – if we’re gonna be friends, then you have to stop touching me all the time, like that – like the way you do.”

He took three steps toward me, even closer than before.

“You don’t like when I touch you?” He asked, his mouth turned up slightly on one side, his eyes burning into me.

“Yes…no—I don’t.” I stuttered.  “Stop looking at me like that, too.”

He didn’t say anything, he just nodded, but the grin never left his face.

We stood, neither moving an inch, just existing together in complete silence for minutes.  Luci finally jumped from my arms, ran to the back door and disappeared through the cat door.

“Umm, I guess I’ll…” I said, gesturing after Luci.

“Is your arm okay?” He asked, completely ignoring my attempt to flee.

I absentmindedly pushed my quarter length sleeve up and rubbed my arm; it was sore, but nothing serious.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Faster than I could react, his hands were on my arm.

“You are not okay! Look.” He demanded.

He lifted my arm from my side revealing a purple bruise, perfectly shaped like fingers, surrounding my upper arm.  I watched breathlessly as his deft fingers glided tenderly over each darkened spot.  When he’d touched every inch of each bruise his eyes returned to mine.

“Fuck me, this is my fault.” He whispered.

I shook my head. “It’s no one’s fault, it was an accident.  Really, I’m fine.”

“It’s my fault for not getting you away from Sutton sooner.” 

He had a look of desperation on his face I didn’t understand.  His eyes were focused off in the distance; I lightly touched his face, hoping to pull his attention back to me.  The instant I touched him his eyes flashed to mine.

“Deacon I promise, I’m fine.” I said, my touch never leaving him.

His hand covered mine, his head leaning into my palm for a moment before quickly pulling away.

“C’mon, you need to put some ice on your arm so it doesn’t get sore.”

He laced his fingers with mine and tugged me forward, leading me toward the back door of the house.

“That’s not necessary,” I said, trying to reason with him. “It’s a couple of bruises.  I’ve hurt myself worse shaving my legs in the shower.” He stopped and his eyes flashed to mine then moved up and down my body—I immediately knew mentioning the word shower had him picturing me naked; fucking men!

I rolled my eyes as he shook his head rapidly.

“Yes, it is, so don’t fight me, or so help me, Eli, I’ll pick your ass up and carry you. A bruise might not be life threatening, but I caused it, and I damn sure won’t let you suffer because of it.”  He had a “don’t fuck with me” tone that I took as a serious warning and followed swiftly behind him.

We entered the house and I directed him towards the kitchen.  Once there, he put his hands on either side of my waist and effortlessly lifted me onto the counter.  He turned and opened the freezer, pulled out a bag of peas, and placed it on my arm.

“Where’s some Tylenol?” He asked.

“Umm…” His question surprised me, and I was too shocked to have an immediate answer.

“Tylenol, Advil, aspirin – where?”

I pointed down the hallway, “Bathroom.”

He quickly disappeared down the dark hallway and returned just as fast.  He pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator then handed me two small, white pills.

“Take them.” He demanded.

I looked at his face, not understanding why he was helping me. He barely knew me, why was he being so nice – especially after his harsh words when we’d first met.  People were usually nice to me after they found out who I was, who my dad was, but not like this; not to this extent.  They just usually wanted to weasel into my life so they could see what it was like, like I was only here for their entertainment.  Deacon wasn’t like that though.

“They’re aspirin, don’t worry I’d never slip you anything.” He teased.

“That’s exactly what someone would say just before they slipped me something.” I informed him.

“Yes, you’re right and you shouldn’t take pills from strangers—ever. But I promise it’s just aspirin, so take the damn pills.”

“Because the man that has forced himself into my house would never try to drug me and take advantage of me.” I teased.

He smiled faintly and raised his eyebrows at me. “Take advantage of you, yes I’d do that in an instant…drug you, no. Now take them.”

He put his hand under mine, leading it to my mouth.  I opened wide and let the pills fall in before taking a big gulp of water.  I put it down and started to jump down from the counter, but he held up his hands to stop me.

“Just stay put, what do you want?”

“Umm, I just want something to eat, I haven’t eaten much today.  My stomach won’t like the aspirin.”

“When was the last time you ate?” He asked in a scolding tone, making me flinch.

“I’m not sure, it’s been a busy day.”

“You should take better care of yourself.” He said bluntly.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

I scooted away from him and jumped off the counter then retreated around the island to put some distance between us—I couldn’t seem to think with him so close.  He eyed my every movement with his signature scowl directed right at me.

“Look Deacon, thank you for the medicine and water.  But don’t think you know me because you don’t.”

“I never said I knew you, I just said you needed to eat.  There’s a big difference.”

He turned back to the refrigerator and started searching through its contents.  I watched, completely stunned, as he pulled out sliced cheese and butter, grabbed a loaf of bread from the counter, and moved to the stove.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

He stopped and held up his hands, a frying pan in one and a spatula in the other, “Umm, cooking.”

“I can see that, but no.  I can find something to eat, you don’t need to cook.”

“It’s a grilled cheese, Eli, it’s not like I’m whipping up a gourmet meal over here.  Just sit down and chill the fuck out already.  Good Lord, you act like no one’s ever done anything nice for you.”

“Grilled cheese?  That’s what my dad always made.” I said faintly as I fell into a chair at the table while memories of my dad standing exactly where Deacon currently was standing washed over me.

“Yeah, a grilled cheese.”  He said, turning back to the stove.

Minutes passed while he cooked and I stared into space, trying hard not to let my childhood memories rip my heart open and pour out all its baggage in front of Deacon.  I’d already come to terms with these feelings, it had been years since he died.  But something about Deacon made them flood through my soul more than they had in years.

I was startled when he set a plate in front of me with a perfectly cooked grilled cheese.  He sat next to me with his own plate piled with three grilled cheese sandwiches.  The smell of gooey cheese hit me and my stomach immediately let out a loud growl I knew he had to hear.  I cut my eyes toward him and he gave me the biggest smile I’d ever seen. 

Before I could start eating, Luci jumped on the chair next to me and stood with her paws on the table.

“Get down, Luci.” I snapped and swatted her away. “Sorry, she likes cheese.”

“Why is her name Lucifer?” He asked for the second time tonight.

“Cinderella.” I answered.  He shook his head at me and shrugged his shoulders.

“The cat in Cinderella is named Lucifer.  I thought everyone knew that.”

He made an amused grunting sound that really felt good to my ears. “No, I can promise I didn’t know that.”

“Cinderella was my favorite fairy tale growing up.  I still read it all the time and watch the old cartoon at least once a year.” I admitted and then felt childish, so I added, “Umm my dad bought it for me, and he read it to me every single night when he was alive.  It’s my favorite, every little girl wants to live a fairytale.”

His face softened and he nodded.  We both stopped talking and ate.  I could feel the time ticking by, but the silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable, it was soothing.

Chapter Ten

Eli Blue

“So, your dad?  He was a fan of the grilled cheese sandwich, too?” He asked after we’d almost finished eating.

I nodded.  “Always when I was sick.  To him a grilled cheese fixed anything from a hangnail to a hangover.”

“Wise man, that father of yours.” He said with a smile before shoving his last bite in his mouth. 

“Yeah, you two seem to have quite a few things in common.” I told him.

“Just because I own a blue guitar doesn’t mean I’ll ever measure up to your dad.” He said with his eyes turned down toward his plate.

“Deacon, you’re just as good as he was, maybe even better.” I told him softly, but the expression on his face said he’d never believe me.

He shook his head. “No fucking way, Eli. I’ll never be as good as Kirk Savage, I don’t even dream of being that damn talented.”

“You are, I don’t know who taught you how to play, but you’re damn good.” I said, seemingly more confident of his talent than he was.

He grunted, “No one taught me how to play, I just learned.  The only possible role models I ever had were ones looking for a free ride funded by the foster care system, and I can promise, of all the places I lived, there were none worth looking up to.”

“How many different places did you live?” I asked, not sure if he’d be willing to share anymore, but wanting to know more about him.

“Seven.” He said grimly, his mouth a hard line. “Most before I even started school, though. It’s hard to find anyone willing to take on a young kid with so many issues adjusting, but just before my tenth birthday I was placed in my last home.”

“You must have liked being able to spend so many years in one home. Do you still see those foster parents?”

A small smile touched his lips, but his eyes seemed to fill with sadness at the same time. “No, I was actually only there for a few years before I ran away and lived on my own.  They were both deadbeats more interested in sitting around all day, drugged out, than anything I had going on. The man loved your dad though, that’s actually where I first heard your dad’s music and touched my first guitar, so at least he gave me that, right?”

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, if he enjoyed drugs, then I’m sure he enjoyed my dad’s music; too often those things seem to go hand in hand. I really hate that.”

“It’s just…your dad’s music stayed with me when I was at my darkest point, and it ultimately helped me leave a bad life behind for music.  That’s why I have the blue guitar, my way of paying tribute, I guess.” He quickly said.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound otherwise.”

“No, it’s fine.  I came to terms with that side of my dad a long time ago.  It’s not always easy for me to talk about it, though. I just don’t trust many people.” I admitted.

He smiled and his face lit up. “I’m glad you trust me because you can; you can trust me with anything.”

“I feel like I can, especially since you lived through something sorta similar.” He nodded, so I continued. “It took me years to even begin coping with what happened to my dad, but once I saw what a horrible person my mom was on drugs, I was at least thankful my dad hadn’t let his habit ruin us.”

“I’ll never forget the day I heard about his…what happened—about your dad…” He fumbled for the right words to use instead of having to say “overdose”. People did it all the time, like simply saying the word would somehow cause me pain – as if I hadn’t dealt with the fact my dad was a drug addict long ago.

“Yeah, it was rough on me for a while, and, of course, my mom made it a million times worse by trying to use me every chance she got. Once dad was gone, I was her ticket to fame and fortune; I honestly think that’s all I ever was to her—a means to an end.  Once I finally got away from her, she turned right back to the same drugs that killed my dad – I assume they’ll kill her one day, too.”

“That’s how the naked photo spread happened?” He asked, his eyes dancing as he thought back to it.

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, that was her idea.  I wasn’t old enough to tell her no; she was my guardian, so I just did it. Really, I don’t think I understood what was happening.  My dad had only been gone for a couple months when she took me to a random warehouse and had me strip all my clothes off.  The actual shoot wasn’t bad, a little awkward, but not as traumatizing as what came after.  The attention I got because of those pictures was way more than I could handle.”

“Well at least that’s one thing we have in common – shitty parents.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, who would have guessed shitty parents would bring us so close together.” I laughed, but it was true.  Knowing we shared that bond made me feel more drawn to him, like I understood his actions better. “But when my dad was alive, he was a great dad, I couldn’t have asked for more.  Sometimes, I guess there’s just more important things than your kids.”

He reached across the table and laid his hand on mine. “I have no doubts: I bet nothing was more important to him than you.”

I nodded slowly as tears filled my eyes.  I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to tell me that, after all these years, even if it might not be true.  So much of my life I’d resented him for leaving me, for being too reckless with his life when he was my whole world.

“Thanks.” I said softly.

“I meant what I said before, those photos in that magazine of you were something to look at, but nothing compares to you now – not even fucking close.” He said as a heated expression crossed his face.

He slowly stood from the table, took both our plates to the sink, and then walked down the hall. 

“Come.” He called back to me.

I followed after him, wondering if this day could get any weirder when, halfway down the darkened hallway, I slammed into a very hard body.  My hands instinctively went up and landed on his chest.  I felt the soft cotton of his shirt and pushed harder to dig my fingers into the hardness underneath.  He pushed me against the wall and leaned his body into me, a position that was already becoming familiar.  My breath quickened, inhaling his delicious scent deeper within me.