Fall From Grace (6 page)

“Grace, you have never and will never quietly exist. You shine on earth as if the sun was born here. You have been a beacon for all of humanities sufferings and exhilarations.”  His voice became a whisper, “And you, my dear, have been steadfast in your belief of finding something that I know for a fact, does still exist.”

His words brought me to my knees and I crashed to the floor.  “Please, Gabriel.  Please tell me where he is.” I pleaded.

Embracing me tightly, he whispered against my cheek, his lips just brushing against my skin.  “I’ve told you too much already, Grace.  Just live this life of yours.”

My head spun franticly.  “Please, Gabriel.  Please!”  I begged.  But in an instant, he was gone.  Out the window, through the door, or into thin air, I had no clue.  My heart pounded against my chest, remembering the words Gabriel said to me.  I wondered what his punishment would be for helping me keep my faith.

Sleep came swiftly and heavy.  Tucker’s kisses and Shane’s hands on Barbie haunted my dreams until my body could take no more of it and I woke at six.  Three hours of sleep was not nearly enough, but my body wouldn’t let me stay in bed any longer.

I slipped on my running gear and headed towards the front door.  I ran down the steps and almost tripped over Shane who was sitting on the last step.

“Ouch!” He scrambled to his feet as I ran into him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.

“I was going for a run and I thought you or Conner would be up for one.”

I laughed.  “Conner won’t be up for a while.  Shane, did you even sleep?  I only got like three hours.”

His face flushed.  “Nah, I’ll sleep later.  I have too much energy.”

I smiled, “Wow, that must have been a really great lap dance, huh?”

“Shut up!” he muttered elbowing me.  He started running towards Central Park and I followed, laughing.  Gabriel gave me hope last night and nothing Shane would do could make me feel bad.

We repeated the same trail as the day before, our feet hitting the ground in unison creating a calming rhythmic cadence.

Less than three hours later, we collapsed sweaty and exhausted on my couch.  Shane aimed the remote toward the television and flicked through the channels.  We settled on some unknown comedy show and laughed uncontrollably at the jokes we heard.  That’s exactly how Conner and Lea found us when they woke up and stumbled, groggy from sleep, into the room.  Shane and I slumped over the couch, both of us sweaty, panting and laughing.

“Oh my God!  Did you two just have sex out here?  Ewww.  Grace!  Come on, Shane really?” Lea yelled.

We laughed even harder.  “What?  You seriously think that we just had sex?  Here on the couch?” I asked.

Shane looked at Conner and gave him a thumb up.  “Dude, if you guys look like this after you guys get freaky, that’s awesome.  But, no we just came back from a run.  I wouldn’t touch Grace if you paid me.  She’s really a man.”

Shane stood up still chuckling.  “I’m starving.  Grace, you hungry, bro?  I’ll make you breakfast.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, immediately suspicious.  What could this man possibly make me for breakfast?  “Are you even capable of pouring cereal into a bowl?”

He arched one eyebrow at my joke; eyes sparkling.  “Are you insulting me?”

I shrugged.  “Um.  No, not really.  It was an honest question.”

He walked across the room and theatrically waved his arms toward the kitchen door.  “C’mon. You have to be just as hungry as I am after all that sex…I mean all that running.”

I threw a pillow at him.  He ducked.  “Oh, so now you’re saying you do have sex with guys?” I laughed, following him into the kitchen.

Most of Shane’s body was already deep in the refrigerator piling stuff into his arms.  When he was satisfied with what he found, he dropped it all on the counter and reached for a frying pan.   “So, honestly, why did you think I wouldn’t be able to cook?”  He was facing the stove pouring a cap full of vegetable oil into the pan, so I couldn’t see his expression.  He cracked three eggs at a time right into the pan.  I wonder how many shells just dropped in there?

He flipped the top of the garbage pail open, tossed the shells in, and repeated the process.  After chopping, dicing and adding all the ingredients, he turned the burner on.  He lifted his sweatshirt over his head and wiped the sweat off his forehead with it.

Oh dear God, he is perfect!  A large black tribal tattoo that began as a dragon at his elbow curled around his right shoulder and traveled onto his shoulder blade.  The thick black tribal strokes exquisitely turning into a dove, wrapping its wings around itself.  His skin was a soft bronze stretched over the ridged hardness of his muscles.  It was completely understandable how girls threw themselves at him.  I pitied him, wondering if he’d ever feel anything more than the sensations of his own skin.

He got out two plates from the cabinet as if he owned the kitchen.  Geez, how many times has he cooked in this kitchen in the last six months?

Placing one plate in front of me and another in front of him, he sat down and shoved a fork full of food into his mouth.  “Spinach, mushroom, green pepper and cheese omelet ala Shane,” he said between chews.  “You haven’t answered me.  What is it about me that made you think I can’t cook?”

I stabbed the omelet with my fork and took a bite.  Crap, it was delicious.  “You just strike me as a shallow person who gets everything they want from other people.  I would have bet that you’ve had a different blonde make you breakfast every morning of your life.”

He gave me an amused look.  “Well, you’re half right.  I am shallow, but I can cook, and honestly, I like chicks with jet black hair better than blondes,” he laughed.  His icy blue eyes regarded me.  “Well?  Is it good?”

Best freaking omelet I’ve ever had.  I stopped the words from fumbling out of my mouth.  “Yeah, sure.  Thanks.  I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” I grumbled.

He shoved another fork full of food in his mouth and chewed.  He leaned forward with a serious expression on his face, “So, what’s the deal with you?  What’s with the intense Shane revulsion?  I’ve never had a girl not jump at the chance with me.  Or, wait, are you into chicks?”

I laughed at his audacity.  “So you think because I’m not falling for your crap that I’m a lesbian?”

“Bi?  Maybe just playing hard to get?”

“You really are full of yourself.  Brace yourself Shane, this might be hard to hear,” I teased.  “But you just don’t do it for me.  Sorry.”

Shane’s eyes brightened at my words.  “So, who does it for you then?”  He purposefully drew out the words, making me shake my head.

I stood up and placed my plate into the dishwasher.  I leaned back, rested my elbows on the counter, and thought for a minute.  “Someone who doesn’t think of me as a walking vagina.”

He howled with laughter.  “A walking vagina!  Oh, shit, if only there was such a thing!”  He was laughing so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

I smiled.  “And what’s your deal?  What happened to you making you think that women were put here just to serve you?  Maybe something happened that makes you so insecure that you would be incapable of having a relationship or normal friendship with a girl?”

His smile faded.  He stared at me with those eyes.  “There’s no deep dark reason, no insecurity, nothing to read into.  I just don’t want anything more from someone.  Ever.  There is no need for it.  Every girl I sleep with knows my intentions clearly.  They want to fuck the lead singer of Mad World, so I give them want they want and get what I want from them.  There’s no need for more.  None of them are worth more than that.”

That was so sad.

He stood up, stretched his arms over his head, and yawned loudly.  “So, what do you do?  Where were you living all this time?” he asked, immediately ending his sad monologue.

I squirmed, not meaning to.  “Jobless at the moment.  I’ve been living with my brother in a hospice for the last few months, so my job was just to trying to make him comfortable.”

A sympathetic expression passed across his face.  It didn’t fit his self-proclaimed moral free ideals, making me think that there was way more to Shane Maxton than a pretty faced lead singer.  But, what did it matter?  I had my own problems, my own past to deal with, and I was positive mine was more unbelievable than his was.

“That’s heavy.  What about your parents?  Did everybody in your family just move there to be with him?”

“Nope.  My parents are both dead.  It was just me and Jake.”  I wanted this Spanish inquisition off me.  “How about you?  What’s your family like?  Where are you from, what do you do?”

“Normal family.  They all live in Florida now.  Nothing dysfunctional.  My parents are still married, no one had dependency problems, and no one ever hit me,” he said flatly. “And being the lead singer for Mad World really pays all my bills.”  He seemed curt and uncomfortable.

I nodded. “Hmm.  Sounds like you’re put together all nicely.  Even though you’re standing here having a difficult time having an innocently normal conversation with someone of the opposite sex, knowing that there is no way in hell I’d ever sleep with you.  No, Shane, you’re not dysfunctional in any way.”  I pushed myself off the counter and walked out of the kitchen, done with the stupidity of our discussion.

Shane knocked the kitchen chairs against each other trying to make sure he’d get the last word in, “Hold on!” he yelped.

“Save it for someone who actually would care about what you had to say, Shane,” I called from the next room.

I locked myself in my room, inserted my iPod into its speaker dock and melted into oblivion when the first sounds of music touched my ears.  I was determined to spend this entire Sunday in bed, reliving Gabriel’s words repeatedly in my head.

Chapter 5

The force of the front door smashing into the wall, causing the entire apartment to shake, jarred me from my sleep.  I peered over at the window, dusk was settling.  The neon red numbers on my clock said it was only four in the afternoon.  Ugh!  I just wanted to sleep until next week!

I listened at the door, wanting to make sure I wouldn’t be walking out into a private spat between Lea and Conner.  When I heard Shane’s voice, I rolled my eyes.  I laughed to myself. Well, it can’t be anything serious then.

Still in my comfortable flannel pajamas, I walked into the living room.  The whole band was there, bickering between each other, while Lea and Conner tried to make sense of what was going on.  Alex the other guitarist and keyboardist of the band sat in the middle of all the commotion with both arms in casts.

Everyone stopped and looked at me when I came in.  “Are you seriously wearing teddy bear pajamas?” Alex asked me.  He raised one eyebrow, “That is incredibly adorable and sexy.”

I couldn’t help but smile and I lifted up my slippers to amuse him further.  I pointed to them, “Complete with my comfy teddy bear slippers.  What in the world is going on in here?  Why are both your arms in casts?”

Brayden threw his hands into the air.  “This loser spent the morning in the hospital after getting his ass kicked last night!”

I took a closer look at poor Alex’s face.  His bottom lip was red and swollen, there was a cut above his left eye, and reddish-purplish bruises were forming over both his cheeks and across his nose.  Ouch.

“Holy Crap!” I yelled.  “What the hell happened?”

“Seems that one of the bimbos from last night had a boyfriend.  That said boyfriend introduced himself to Alex by way of his fists and a baseball bat,” Lea said, handing out bottles of water and bowls of chips to everyone.  When did she become the model hostess?

“A baseball bat?” I asked.

Alex’s cheeks turned redder.  “Yeah.  The dude jumped out on me from the closet with the bat.  I threw my hands up to block it and he broke both of my arms.”

“Please tell me the boyfriend looks worse,” I pleaded.

Ethan’s deep laugh echoed throughout the room.  He really was the biggest guy I had ever seen here, maybe 6’ 7” and his voice matched.  His pin straight long hair was so blond it was almost white.  He reminded me of the guys in those hair bands from the 90s.  “I think maybe Alex hit him with some splatters of blood, but that’s about it!”

Everyone laughed, even Alex.  Well, no, not everyone.  Not Shane.  Shane stood leaning against the front door with his arms and legs crossed.  He had an angry expression on his face.  “Yeah, well, that’s all really funny, but who is going to play rhythm guitar this weekend, or next?  Or, how about the week after that?  Who the hell are we going to find who can play as good as Alex, and play his keyboard, sing, and learn all the fucking songs before Friday night?”

Once again, Shane’s voice silenced a room.  This time, it wasn’t with the sounds of his singing, but with the anger, he had for a friend.  Jackass!

Lea gave me a sideways glance.

I grimaced at her, warning her to keep me out of the situation.

Conner motioned for Shane to calm down. Impressively, he took control of the whole situation.  “Listen, it’s only Sunday.  We have until Friday night.  You know that there are shit loads of guitar players in New York City that have your CDs, knowing your music by heart.  Let’s ask around, make some flyers and have a small audition on, let’s say, Thursday.  You guys can pick the best player.  You definitely won’t find anyone who can play the piano and the guitar like Alex, but just don’t do the songs that call for both.  Alex, how long do you have to have the casts on?”