Sweet Forty-Two (2 page)

Her death stuck to me like thick, cold mud, dried under the hottest sun I’d ever felt. It tugged at my skin, ripping the hair from my arms one at a time before I could brush the dust free. Dust. One day, seemingly just like that, I was able to stand up and brush it all off like dust.

Still, when I looked across the room into Ember’s eyes, or watched Bo bow his head slightly before each time he played his guitar, she was there. She was there when I bailed after the funeral and escaped to Ireland for three months, ditching the closest friends I’d had in years. Rae was there, snuggled amongst the ruins of centuries old castles on the edges of family farms, and she was there in the quiet moments before I drifted to sleep. She was in my dreams.

Dust lingers, and I was desperate to wash it clean, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t even know if I could, but I had to try.

“Hey, you okay out here?” Ember quietly slid the screen door open and met me in the adjoining Adirondack chair.

I nodded. “Of course.”

“You know, Bo found a great therapist here. If you want to set—”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “It’s okay, Ember. Really.”

“Ireland isn’t therapy, Regan.” I could tell she rolled her eyes without even looking at her.

“Says the girl who’s never been there. Anyway, I’ll be fine. CJ’s plane lands in a couple of hours, and he and I will be exploring some while I apartment hunt. That way I can get out of your hair and let you and Bo play house.” I tried to smirk but couldn’t when I looked at her.

Ember’s eyes softened in a way only hers could. Just barely. Just enough. “No rush, you know. You’re welcome here any time. All the time.”

My sister was several years older than me, and I didn’t spend a lot of time with her growing up. While Ember and I never directly talked about it, it was like we’d adopted each other as brother and sister. I knew she was worried about me because I didn’t talk much about Rae, but there wasn’t much I felt I needed to say. I just needed to get settled in my own apartment, get playing with the band, and the rest would take care of itself. I needed to push through this.

Just a little longer and I’d be okay.

“How long is CJ planning on staying, anyway?” Ember’s nose scrunched a little as she formed her question.

“Ha, don’t worry, Em, I won’t let him touch your things.”

“Mmm.” Ember arched her eyebrow as she took a sip of her coffee. “Thank you. Okay, love, I’m out to run some errands, then I’ll be at the studio the rest of the day.”

“You have fun, and I’ll try to make sure CJ is in bed with a dose of penicillin by the time you guys get home.”

Ember choked on her coffee as she laughed. “This. This is why I love you. Later.”

“Later.”

A couple of hours later I was waiting in San Diego International Airport. CJ had, in true CJ fashion, invited himself out for a visit. I’d only been in San Diego for about a week, and was still looking for my own place to live, but he said it was too cold in the Cape to wait for me to get my act together.

“Hey, asshole!”

And, there he was.

CJ’s movements didn’t match his looks as he brightly bounced toward me. He was clearly hung over, his usually-gelled hair sticking straight out on all sides, making him look like Animal from The Muppets.

Okay, maybe his movements perfectly matched his personality.

“What up, cuz?” I high-fived him, pulling him into a half-hug.

Even though he was a couple of years younger than me, my mother had always demanded that I play with him, given he was an only child and my sister was out of the house most of the time. I looked after him for as long as I needed to, but once high school came, and we went to different schools, he no longer needed me. While I was always taller, he doubled in size across his shoulders and in every muscle of his body. CJ could take plenty good care of himself and was able to find many girls who could take care of what he couldn’t.

“Let’s get this party started, bro. It’s cold as balls back home, man. God, it’s gorgeous here! You lucky fuckin’ bastard. What’s up first?” With his ADHD in full effect, CJ bounced beside me as we walked to my car.

“How’s the band been going?” I asked a few minutes into our drive.

“Slow right now, our next big show will be St. Patrick’s Day.” CJ’s hands rapped lightly against the dashboard as he looked out the window. “So, where are we going?”

“We’re going to head down to South Park, I think. I’ve heard great things about the neighborhood, and it seems affordable.”

“Oh no shit! E’s Tavern is in South Park. We
have
to go there.” His drumming got louder as he smiled.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “What’s so special about E’s?”

“Well, for one, they’ve got live music. Stage, open mic nights, everything. You could play there when you’re not recording. But, most importantly,” he stopped his drumming and arched an eyebrow, “Georgia’s there.”

Of course.

I couldn’t help but laugh when he flicked his tongue ring against his teeth as he wiggled his eyebrows. “Do I even want to know?”

Probably not
.

“Oh,” he returned his attention to the road, and his fingers to the beat, “you’ll know.”

“What’d you run out of women on the East Coast who bought your shit, so you had to outsource?” I’d always wondered how he avoided sleeping with the same girl twice.

CJ’s face crinkled a bit. “Fuck no, dude. I’ve never slept with her. It’s ...
Georgia.
”

“Surprisingly, CJ, I don’t follow your logic. Georgia is female, yes?” I watched him grin as I sipped from my water bottle.

“Yeah, but it’s not like that. We went to high school together until senior year when her dad pulled her out of school and moved her here. He used to own that bar in Provincetown we played at in high school.
Dunes,
remember?”

I nodded.
Dunes
was kind of a dive bar, but it was the only one that let us play on weekends when we were teenagers. I had no recollection of Georgia, though I
did
have a clear memory of the owner of the place, and it wasn’t a pretty one. He was kind of straggly with your standard town-drunk demeanor. The fact that he had children at all was concerning on a number of levels.

“Anyway,” CJ continued, “we stayed friends after she moved, and...”

I cut him off as I spit out my water. “I’m sorry,” I coughed, “what the hell did you just say? Friends? And a girl? In the same sentence?”

“Fuck off,” he mumbled, sitting back and crossing his arms.

“Okay, okay, no need to get your panties in a bunch. We’ll go to E’s to meet your
friend
.” My air-quotes around the last word was a little too much and earned me a punch in the arm.

E’s Tavern was on Ash Street, and from the outside looked as much like a grocery store as a bar. The bright-blue painted wood exterior had me fearing I’d end up in the middle of a happy hour for senior citizens. Reminding myself that I was in the middle of South Park quelled my fears. I’d heard from a lot of friends around the country that this hip area of San Diego was where I’d want to make a home for myself. Checking out the wildly painted bungalows all around me, and hearing the saxophonist playing on the corner, I’d say they were right.

“We can’t stay here for too long, Ceej. I still need to find a place to live.” I slammed my door shut and shoved my hands into my jeans’ pockets.

“Relax, dude. We’ll have a drink or two, I’ll catch up with Georgia, and we’ll go.” He held the door open as if he’d been there a thousand times before.

Stepping in, I was indeed relieved. E’s was a spacious tavern with lots of dark wood. Tables and mismatched chairs painted different colors scattered the floor and a sizable bar wrapped around two sides of the interior. It was a Saturday, but it was only late afternoon, and the place was pretty busy. That was a good sign, and once I spotted the large square stage in the far corner, I took that as a
really
good sign. South Park just might be my neighborhood after all.

Halfway on our walk up to the bar, I stopped dead in my tracks. CJ was right. I knew her when I saw her.
Georgia.
Not because I recognized her from somewhere, but because all the energy from the bar orbited around her. CJ’s face lit up a second before the short girl with bleach blonde hair tied up in a red bandana looked up from pouring a drink, and shrieked.

“CJ!”

“G!” The smile on CJ’s face was more honest than I’d ever seen him look. It went all the way to his eyes, and he didn’t even stick out his tongue ring.

Ignoring social convention, this girl gripped the edge of the bar and leapt over it as if it were a pommel horse. The closer she got to us, the shorter she looked. She was a good foot shorter than me, putting her around 5’3”, but her smile and fierce indigo eyes made up for the difference in an instant. She wore a short-sleeved red plaid shirt tied at the waist, which was perfectly positioned to show off a silver belly button ring, and
short
jean shorts with frayed threads hanging from the hem.

As she jumped into CJ’s arms and wrapped her arms around his neck, I noticed the boots. Black combat boots with an inch or so of red and black striped socks peeking out from the top. I don’t know what struck me as most odd — that she was wearing all of that, or that she pulled it off like she could never wear anything else. CJ swung her around once before setting her down.

“How the hell have you been?” she asked as he patted her head like she was his little sister. A diamond stud in her nose caught the light as her face pulled back into a bigger smile.

“Better, now. Georgia, this is my cousin, Regan. Regan, this is Georgia Hall.” I swear to you he was blushing.

Georgia
.

The name CJ scoffed at when I’d asked if he’d slept with her. Given that reaction, I’d assumed she was ... something other than this intriguing girl with amazing curves standing in front of me.

I stuck out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Georgia.”

Looking me head-to-toe once with an intense look in her eyes, she finally stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you, too, Regan. I gotta get back to the bar.” Turning on her heels we were left to follow her to the deep mahogany bar. It was then that I caught a black keyhole tattoo behind her right ear.

Interesting.

Just as we gave Georgia our drink orders, the phone rang at the far end of the bar, and she had to answer it.

“So ... Georgia...” I turned to CJ as he continuously drummed his hands on the bar. He never stopped.

“Yep. Pretty hot, huh? How about that ass?” Blushing CJ left, and vile CJ returned with a mock ass-slapping gesture.

I rolled my eyes. “Classy. So, what gives?”

CJ looked genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve known her a long time, she’s pretty good looking ... and you’ve never?”

“Nah, it’s ... complicated. Her mom got sick and left her dad, and then Georgia moved out here ... it’s not important. We’re just friends.” He nodded toward the middle of the bar, signaling Georgia’s return.

“Here you go, boys.” She leaned forward and set our pints of Guinness in front of us.

As she pulled her hand away I noticed a tattoo on the thumb side of her left index finger, running the length of it. I’d assumed the first tattoo I’d noticed was a one-off. A dare. A flight of fancy. More than one tattoo, though, takes guts. Judging by the type and location of the two on Georgia, though, I was betting she had more.

I wanted to know where they were.

I didn’t look long enough to read what it said, because I got distracted. I can’t be sure, but it looked like she’d unbuttoned an extra button on her shirt. Either way, there was a lot of cleavage staring CJ and me in the face. He wasn’t even looking, which made me uncomfortable since he was the pervert, and
I
was the one who couldn’t look away. I shouldn’t have been looking. Though, I suppose the fact that I wanted to was a good sign of some sort of moving forward.

Or, it was just cleavage.

“Thanks, G. What’s the matter? You look pissed.” CJ took a large gulp of his dark beer, never taking his gaze from her eyes.

“Fuckers,” she muttered. “We had Celtic Cross lined up to play tonight and they bailed. Their drummer can’t hold his liquor, apparently, and is too hung over.”

“Lightweight.” CJ chuckled, drinking more of his beer.

“Anyway — hey,” Georgia stopped her train of thought as her beautiful eyes widened, “you still play, don’t you?”

“Won’t ever stop.” He smirked.

“Come. Tonight. I’ll try to get some other people in here. You can pull something off, can’t you? It’s going to be packed in here tonight and they
need
music. Please?” She batted her short, dark eyelashes and he caved.

CJ nodded in my direction. “Regan plays the fiddle. Not just plays ... owns. I bet we could get Bo and Ember to come along too. They play guitar, sing…”

Georgia smiled brightly and looked right at me. “Oh, so those gorgeous eyes of yours can read more than just my breasts?”

CJ spit some of his beer back into his glass. “Burn, dude.”

“I ... uh...” I looked down immediately, vowing to never look back up.