Bittersweet Chronicles: Pax (13 page)

“Oh man,” I say, rubbing a hand over my face as I feel my throat thicken. “That’s my dog,” I tell Carly when she looks at me. “Is he sick? Did they have to put him down or something?” I ask Vaughn.

He sighs. “It’s worse than that, dude. Your dad found him this morning out in the yard. He was unconscious, foaming at the mouth. They took him in to the animal ER. They’ve been there with him all day. The vets tried all kinds of stuff to help him, but nothing was working, and your dad couldn’t stand to see him suffer any longer, so they put him down about two hours ago.”

“God,” I say, my voice rough with pain. I lean my head against the window.

“I’m so sorry,” Carly tells me as she holds my hand gently.

“What the hell happened to him?” I ask. “A stroke or something?”

Vaughn is silent for a moment as he gazes out the opposite side window.

“Vaughn?” I ask, prompting him.

He finally looks me in the eye. “He was poisoned, Pax. Someone poisoned Canuck.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. My family’s had two dogs in my life: Sailor, a chocolate lab my dad got right after my parents were married, and Canuck, the dog he got me after Sailor died of old age. Those two dogs were full-on members of our family. We bred Canuck when he was younger, and Uncle Joss and Aunt Mel adopted one of the puppies. Mike and Jenny adopted another. Canuck came to the beach house with us in the summer, and when my dad went on tour, the dog would often travel on the bus with the guys. He used to come to my hockey practices at the ice arena and was an unofficial mascot for my team.

“Why?” I breathe out. “Why would anyone want to hurt Canuck?” My chest hurts and my eyes are stinging, but I can’t cry in front of Vaughn and Carly. I have some damn pride left.

“I don’t know,” Vaughn says sadly. “There are some sick people out there, dude.”

“How would anyone even get to him? Our property is secured. You can’t just wonder into our backyard, the neighborhood is gated, and there’s a security guard there twenty-four-seven. None of neighbors would ever hurt Canuck. Everyone knew him.”
      “I don’t know, Pax. Your mom said they’ve notified the authorities and the neighborhood security staff. Everyone’s going to be working to figure out what happened, but they don’t have any answers yet.”

I lean my head back against the seat, and I’m hit square in the face with it again—I need to be with my family. I belong in Portland right now. I can’t believe this is happening and I’m not there to take care of them. What the hell kind of son and brother am I?

Through the swirl of emotions I’m enduring, I feel Carly’s hand on my arm. Her fingers are soft and her touch is gentle. She strokes down to my hand, where she weaves her fingers between mine as my hand rests on the seat. She gives a small squeeze and I know she’s telling me that it’ll be okay. Without words, she tries to comfort me, and I can’t deny that I would feel even worse if she weren’t here with me right now. There is something very soothing about her touch.

“You want me to drive the rest of the way? Maybe you can call them back?” Vaughn asks.

I clear my throat and try to clear my head at the same time. “No. It’s all right. Let’s get this over with. I’ll check in with them later.”

He nods, and I turn off the flashers, accelerating to pull back onto the highway. Before I do though, I turn to look at Carly. I give her hand a squeeze before I move it away to the steering wheel, and I mouth, “Thank you,” at the same time. She gives me a smile that is the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen on a girl, and my poor, aching heart trips a beat. So much bad and so much good at once. It’s hard to hold it all in one place.

When we arrive at the nightclub in Port Oasis where we’re supposed to drop the van, I’m surprised to find Lagazo himself waiting for us next to Vaughn’s rental car.

“You’re late,” he announces without preamble when we exit the van.

“Had to take an important call on the way up. You wouldn’t want me driving and talking, would you?” I snark. I’m heartsick and in no mood for Lagazo’s hazing.

He looks at me sharply. “Oh yeah? What could be so important you’d risk our little arrangement?”

“None of your damn business,” Vaughn speaks up. He’s apparently not in a much better mood than I am. “He delivered your van, so unless you’ve got another job for him tonight, we’re taking off.” He takes Carly by the elbow and guides her toward the car.

I can see by the way her lips press together that she doesn’t like it.

Lagazo gives Vaughn a wicked grin before he turns to me. “Nicky says you played real good the other night at Burn.”

I raise an eyebrow and don’t respond.

“Says you played one of my favorites—‘As Lush As It Gets.’ I’ve always loved that one. Kind of old shit for a kid like you to play though.”

I see Vaughn shoot me a look of concern. Carly is standing at the car, her arms crossed, glaring at Lagazo. There’s a sound of sirens wailing in the distance and it seems to distract Lagazo from whatever path he was heading down. He glances over to where his car and driver are waiting.

“Be at the warehouse on dock nine Tuesday at seven p.m.,” he says to me. “You get a few days off. Enjoy them.” Then he turns on his heel and strides back to his car, leaving the van sitting where I parked it, not seeming the least bit concerned about it.

It isn’t until we’re pulling out of the parking lot, Vaughn driving and me sitting shotgun, that I glance in the side-view mirror. I see Nicky exit Lagazo’s car as it continues to idle in the parking lot. He walks to the van and reaches under the rear bumper. When he stands, he’s holding a package the size of a shoebox in his hand and I realize that we most likely just transported drugs for Lagazo. My stomach churns and I close my eyes, leaning back into the seat, disgusted with myself—and with the world in general.

**

Over the next week, I spend all of my time doing things for Lagazo and performing. Every performance I do, either Nicky or one of Lagazo’s other guys shows up. Meanwhile, the jobs he has me do are bullshit. Things like working the door at his strip club when someone calls in sick, delivering paperwork to his accountant, picking up loads of liquor for a bar he owns downtown. I should be happy that it doesn’t seem like he’s all that interested in having me involved in the less legal aspects of his business, but I get the sense that he’s making stuff up to keep me on the hook. Carly comes along each time and seems just as confused by his motivations as I am.

I text my family about Canuck, but I don’t call. I can’t. I’m sure they think I don’t care enough to be bothered. But the truth is I care too much. I know that, if I hear their voices and their heartbreak, I’ll be on the next plane out of here, and I can’t do that. Because not only do I need to help Carly, but Blake has scheduled a meeting for me with a club owner up in Birmingham. The guy has two of the biggest live-music venues in Alabama, and he’s heard a demo Blake sent him. He’s interested, and it would be a big deal for me—the kind of thing that could get me noticed by a regional label that might be willing to sign me. There are several decent-sized labels in the South with national distribution. You put out a hit single with one of them and you’re liable to get an offer from a heavy hitter in New York or L.A. next.

Knowing this—that I could be on the edge of a big step toward my dream—I can’t risk slipping up. I said that I wouldn’t go back to Portland until I was a success, and if I get signed by a label, I could go home with a contract in hand, money in my pocket, and the knowledge that I did it all myself. Every. Single. Thing.

So I do what I’ve been doing for two long years—I put Portland and everyone I love there into a box in my mind. I shut it tight and try to make it through each day alone. Except, for the first time in a long time, I’m not so alone. I have Vaughn, a little taste of home, and I have Carly, a little taste of heaven.

Carly and I have been growing closer each day. Vaughn spends most of his days in Birmingham at the recording studio there. He’s always back in the evenings, but the task of making sure Carly is safe getting to and from classes is left to me, and I can’t say that I mind at all.

I realize I’m using my time with her as a distraction from all the other stuff that’s going on. It’s easy to lose myself in her and her world. I drive her to campus, hold her hand, and walk her to class like a love-struck high school kid. Then we spend hours just hanging out on the beach or watching movies at my place. She loves slapstick comedies and cheesy Samurai movies. I think she might be the coolest girl I’ve ever known.

“You seriously want to watch Revenge of the Shogun with me?” I ask one night as we both settle into the sofa, chocolate chip cookies and popcorn close at hand.

“It’s a freaking classic!” she says reprovingly. “Why would I not want to watch it?”
      “I don’t know,” I answer, watching the way her eyelashes float up and down as she takes a bite of cookie and savors it. “There just aren’t many girls who are into Samurai movies.”

“There aren’t many girls who were raised by a compulsive gambling father who once had to hide out in our apartment for three straight days with all the lights out and the phone off, and the only entertainment was a weekend-long Samurai movie fest at Movies Online.”

I stare at her. She has a funny little smile on her face, but her eyes aren’t laughing at all. They’re daring me to challenge it, to turn her interpretation of the story into what it really is—a tragedy.

“A weekend-long Samurai fest?”

She nods, her smile more assured now and the subtle scent of chocolate drifting through the air between us. “It was the only account he’d paid the bill for that month, so if we wanted to watch something, it had to be at Movies Online. And that weekend, he was hiding out from Ricky Fortier over a twenty-grand tab he’d racked up at Saucy’s, so he couldn’t set foot out of the apartment, or turn on any of the lights, or answer the phone. Three straight days of corn dogs and Samurai movies.” She shrugs.

“Sooo…does that mean you actually hate Samurai movies like you do corn dogs?”

She throws her head back and laughs. It makes me want to run my tongue down the column of her neck. It’s smooth and soft and pristine—too warm to be marble, but maybe a pale-peach silk.

“No. Surprisingly, I ended that weekend with a real appreciation for Samurai movies and Japanese culture. It’s why I’m taking Japanese 101 at school.”

I’m so in awe of her resilience, the quality of optimism and strength that runs clear through her. I lean over and whisper in her ear, “Will you speak dirty Japanese to me sometime?”

She blushes and gives me a little shove. “I don’t think they cover that until the spring semester,” she chides.

I put my hand on her cheek and turn her face to me. Her eyes are bright, and her cheeks pink. I can feel her breath as little puffs caress my skin.

“It’s worth my wait,” I tell her in a low voice before I kiss her on the lips and forget the rest of the world.

I’ve lost my shirt and she’s about to lose hers when I stop. “What time did Vaughn say he was getting back?”

“Not until really late,” she answers, the flickering light from the TV spilling across her flushed face.

“I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for. But you need to know that I’m completely crazy about you.” I kiss down her neck, and along the tops of her breasts.

She arches into me.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight, or tomorrow, or a month from now, but I want you in my bed. I want to give you all the attention you deserve.” I nibble on her earlobe. “Starting at your toes and moving all the way up to the world’s cutest ears.”

She sighs and runs her hand down my chest.

“Yes,” she moans.

“Yes?”

“Yes. Take me to your bed, Pax. I don’t need to wait til tomorrow or next month. I think I might explode if you don’t do everything you’re describing.”

“What the lady wants, the lady will get.” I lift her up and carry her to my bedroom.

In my room we leave the lights off and I set Carly on her feet slowly, taking time to let her body slide down mine before her feet touch the floor. I reach down and pull her shirt off over her head, then I stop and stare at her as my eyes adjust to the low light.

She’s wearing a simple white lace bra and her breasts nearly spill out of the cups as she breathes heavily, staring at me from beneath her long, dark lashes.

“Jesus you’re beautiful.” I squeeze both of her breasts in my palms and she hisses with awareness. “I could stare at you all damn day.”
      She moves her hand to the bulge in my pants and rubs my length. “Take your clothes off,” she orders.

I grin. “Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm.” She unbuttons my pants before I stop her, removing her hands and then unzipping and dropping my trousers and boxer briefs too. I step out of them, then raise an eyebrow.

“I think I’m at a disadvantage here,” I tell her.

She smiles a devilish glint in her eyes, then slowly, torturously, removes her pants, bra and underwear. By the time her little striptease is done I’m sporting a hard-on that could pound nails.

“I promised a toe to head session, didn’t I?”

She laughs and strokes one finger up my cock, which twitches at her in return.

I push her down until she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, then I drop to my knees in front of her. I lift one of her legs and place it on my shoulder, rubbing my cheek against her silken calf. Then I turn my head and delicately lick the tip of her big toe. Her entire leg flexes. I continue, licking the soft, fleshy pads of each of her toes individually, tasting the saltwater from her earlier dip in the ocean, and relishing the moans of approval that I hear.

After each tiny digit has been given ample attention, I switch to her ankle, licking and kissing my way up to the feather-soft skin just behind her knee. When my tongue swirls across that she gasps, then giggles.

“Ticklish?” I rasp out.

“Yeah, but it still feels so good.”

Next is the inside of her thighs. I set her leg back down with her foot on the floor, and suck gently on the expanse of alabaster skin that caresses my cheeks when I’ve got my head between her thighs. Holy hell. I could spend days in this exact spot.