Under the Cornerstone (16 page)

I draw half of me in Brooklyn, half in California. I draw my Brooklyn side in tattoos and ripped jeans. I draw snow coming down on me while I hold an empty bloody hand outstretching towards Johnny, who isn’t in the picture. But he doesn’t need to be there because he’s a ghost who haunts me. My heart is where I left it, with him. On the left side, I draw my California side in a pantsuit. The background is filled with palm trees, the ocean, and sunshine. My bloody hand hangs beside my body and my heart lays at my feet, because even if I wanted it back it wasn’t mine anymore. California won’t ever give it back to me.

We eat sandwiches and drink beer while I paint. Alex lays on a blanket and reads a book. He looks more at peace than I’ve ever seen him. When he discovers the tattoos on my portrait, he makes me push up my sleeve and show him. Then he smiles and pulls his Henley over his head to reveal a body full of art. Both of his arms and his entire chest and stomach are covered. I gasp and instinctively trace the lines of his art. It’s beautiful.

He smiles down at me, “You can’t ever really judge a book by its cover, can you?”

“No. I guess you can’t. I never would’ve guessed,” I admit.

“It’s art.”

“It is, and it’s beautiful,” I reply.

“So are yours. Banksy?”

“Yes.”

After the day at the Sunken City, Alex opens up more and seems to relax a little more each day. We each begin to wear more casual clothes to work on the days we don’t have business meetings, and our tattoos shine as brightly as they were meant to. We laugh a lot, but there are times when I can see him drift off and the heartache he experienced six years ago seems so fresh on his face. He still hurts. I drift off sometimes myself, and the look on his face seems to be what it feels like inside.

I’m sitting at the table, finalizing details on a few designs when my phone rings. Jimmy’s goofy face appears on my phone screen.

Blood Feather is climbing the charts and the guys are attracting a cult following. The women go crazy over the guys, but hey, they were a good looking trio. They were getting a lot of radio play and even more media coverage. As they grew over the last four months, they were pushed higher on the bills and now open right before the headliner. That’s a big deal. They were growing so fast, much faster than other bands ever do.

Alex sees Jimmy’s ridiculous expression on the phone and chuckles, “Take it.”

He’s never met or spoken to Jimmy, but I’ve recounted enough stories about Jimmy Crawford.

I put it on speaker, “Yo.”

“Noely baby! My God, it feels like an eternity since I’ve heard your phone sex voice,” he says with his thick Brooklyn accent.

Alex snorts with laughter.

“Jimmy Boo!” I greet back.

“Cut that shit out,” he replies.

“You’re
my
Jimmy Boo,” I tell him.

“Okay. I’ll be your Jimmy Boo. Don’t say that shit in public. I’m a big ass man. You don’t call manly men like me Jimmy Boo.”

“Right,” I smile.

“Miss your face, Noles.”

“I miss your face too.”

“How’s California?” he asks.

“Sunny, relaxing, and the work is fulfilling.”

“We’re playing L.A. in ten days. You’ll be there right?”

I frown at my phone, and get lost in my head. I want to see my favorite band play, but I don’t want to dredge up any feelings I’ve managed to numb or bury over the last four months. I don’t know if I can see him right now. I don’t feel strong enough.

“Noely, don’t do this,” Jimmy begs softly.

Alex leans over and touches my shoulder bringing me back to reality. He gives me a sympathetic look.

“I don’t know, Jim,” I finally respond.

“When they decided to start a band, you were the one who pushed them to actually do something. You pushed Johnny to write his own songs and stop covering other people’s shit. You told him he had a fucking story and he should stop telling other people’s stories. When Ryan’s shitty drum set wasn’t cutting it, you walked all over Brooklyn bartering with pawn shops to get him a better set up. When Rich was too scared to put himself out there and book their first show, you took care of it. You learned the business and then you taught it to them. Then you taught it to me. You put your fucking soul into this band. You’re a part of it, whether you know it or not. You and Johnny… we don’t talk about that shit, but don’t forget me, Rich, and Ryan are still here too. We’re still here. We still need you. Don’t cut us off too.”

I yell in response as his last words light a fire in my ass, “I didn’t cut him off!”

Alex’s eyes raise in response to my outburst.

Jimmy sighs into the phone, “Noles, I do not bullshit you, fucking ever. Return the favor. You cut him off. Your reasons are your own, but you cut him off. It’s not my business unless you decide to share, but I’m not letting you cut the rest of us off. We’ve been together too long.”

I glare and frown down at my phone.

“You should send the tickets and passes to the Sinclair Hotel,” Alex pipes in.

“You Alex?” Jimmy asks with his menacing voice.

“Did you grab your dick for good measure?” I ask.

Jimmy and Alex both laugh.

“I’m Alex. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Alex greets.

“Fuck. Don’t believe half that shit. Most of the charges were dropped. The rest of them… I was framed,” Jimmy replies.

Alex chuckles, “I hear all the stories are true then.”

“Fuck, man. Brooklyn ain’t no joke to grow up in,” Jimmy tells him. “You looking out for Noely baby?”

“I am. I put her in a Presidential Suite at the Sinclair Hotel. You can send anything there for her and the front desk will ensure she gets it. I’ll alert them that she’ll be receiving a package from you to ensure there are no issues,” he says.

“The Prez Suite, Noely baby? Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about. You moved up in the world, Noe,” Jimmy says like he’s never stepped out of Brooklyn a day in his life.

“Would you mind if I join Noely?” Alex asks and surprises the shit out of me. “What?” he asks me. “I’m a huge fan.”

“Of Blood Feather?” Jimmy and I ask in unison.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” Alex asks.

“I don’t know. You’re like a millionaire or some shit, right? Figured you were the sort of guy who listened to classical music while you drink stupid expensive wine on your yacht,” Jimmy answers.

“I don’t care for classical music,” Alex admits.

“Well, there’s that,” Jimmy and I say in unison again.

We both laugh. You forget how much you pick up on and how familiar you are with someone when you haven’t seen them in a while.

“Fucking A, I’ll send you a pass and ticket with Noely. I don’t really want her there alone anyway. I appreciate you looking out for her. Noely, give him my number in case there’s any type of emergency,” Jimmy says.

“You were already listed as her point of contact,” Alex tells him.

“Aw, shit, girl. You make me feel all emotional and shit,” Jimmy says to me.

I roll my eyes.

“I love you, Jimmy. I gotta go. See you soon, okay?”

“Don’t fucking duck out on me,” he threatens.

“I won’t.”

“I fucking miss you,” he says with desperation.

“You okay?”

“The road is hard. I want to go home for a few months,” he admits.

“You guys have a break coming up in a few months, yeah?”

“Yeah. Three-week break, but we’ve got Ryan and Rich’s cousin's wedding to attend,” he says.

“Shit. That’s right. I’d forgotten Julie was getting married,” I admit.

“Speaking of, will you go as my date?” Jimmy asks.

“Of course,” I answer without a second thought.

“Wear something foxy. Really fucking tall heels and a short dress,” he jokes.

“Can I go too?” Alex quips and then adds, “For moral support.”

Jimmy gives a big belly laugh, “Yo, she’s foxy in sweatpants. I feel you.”

“That she is,” Alex agrees and I roll my eyes at both of them.

“Okay, gotta work, Jim. Love you,” I say.

“Love you too, Noely baby.”

Ten Days Later

Fuck. Fuckity-fuck. Fucker. Motherfucker. Brother fucker. Sister fucker. Father fucker. Fuck!

I look up at the ceiling, “Why couldn’t you strike me down with Ebola or some shit right now?”

“Who are you talking to?” Alex asks from the doorway of my bedroom.

“The universe.”

“Ebola is a nasty thing to wish for yourself,” he smiles.

“I just want the 24-hour version,” I say.

He laughs at me, “Get off the bed.”

I stand up and pout as I do, which only makes him chuckle more. Then he stops. His face grows serious as he looks me up and down. Suddenly, I feel naked.

His low, gravelly voice orders, “Sit down.”

I swallow hard. It’s been a while and he might be Alex, but fuck he’s hot. I’m horny
and
emotional. He walks over to me where I sit on the edge of the bed, and kneels in front of me. I instantly want to part my legs so he can face dive.

I’m unstable right now. Going to see the guys is freaking me out and making me think irrationally.

Alex doesn’t face dive, dammit, but he picks up the beautiful shoes, Rich had shipped to me. He found a boutique in New Mexico, Black Orchid Couture, and bought some seriously bad ass heels. Alex slips my foot into the five-inch, peep-toe heel adorned with machinery rivets, spikes, and an ankle strap. The burgundy shoe fits my foot like a glove, and Alex’s hand fastens the ankle strap.

“Now those are fucking shoes,” he says.

“You surprise the shit out of me sometimes,” I admit.

“Well, they aren’t the shoes I would’ve picked out for you, but they are very you. I couldn’t have found a better pair of heels to take you to a concert in.”

“Rich did good,” I admit.

“I don’t buy shoes for women I don’t fuck. You’re lucky to have such good friends,” he says and once again shocks me with his abrasive comment.

“Rich is like my brother. He’s the sweetest of them all, and does shit for people just because he’s thinking about them. If he runs across something that reminds him of someone, he buys it,” I explain.

“He sounds like a good guy,” Alex replies.

“He’s the tamest of the group,” I chuckle. “But he’s definitely a sweetheart.”

Alex straps on the second shoe and stands. He takes several steps back and extends his hand to me, “Now let’s see what you’ve got going on.”

I take his hand and stand. He looks me up and down again, and slowly turns me around checking out my spaghetti strapped, Rachel Zoe, sleeveless, black, fringe mini dress.

“Unfortunately for our ancestors, they didn’t make those numbers that short in the twenties,” he comments.

“Modesty is overrated,” I chuckle.

“You look fucking beautiful,” he tells me and then offers the crook of his elbow to me.

“Thank you.”

A limo waits for us when we emerge from the hotel, which once again surprises me.

“I plan on drinking tonight and partying like a rock star. I didn’t think I should drive afterwards,” he says as he takes in the expression on my face.

“It’ll do,” I pat him on the shoulder and smile up at him.

The limo takes us to The Staples Center where the concert is being held. The driver pulls into the back of the venue by the tour buses and parks.

“Jimmy said he’d meet us by the tour buses,” I say.

“Sounds good.”

Alex helps me out of the limo and I realize how differently he’s dressed tonight. He has on a pair of black chucks, dark distressed jeans, and a thin black tie on. The man looks good in black. He looks like one of us and the thought makes me smile.

I take his arm when he offers it again and follow him to the tour buses. There are seven here, so I look around for Jimmy.

“Noely baby,” Jimmy calls out to us.

I find him a few tour buses over smiling like a jackass.

“You look good enough to eat, Noe,” he says and picks me up into a hug.

Thankfully, we’ve been friends long enough, he knows to hold the bottom hem of my dress so my ass doesn’t fall out.

“Thanks for bringing her,” Jimmy says to Alex while he continues to hold onto me tight.

“Noles!” Rich’s voice reaches me.