Trinity (Moonstone Book 1) (14 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Trinity

“So let’s take it from the start again,” Gwen began as Shawna tapped her drum sticks and led us into the song.

Closing my eyes, I listened to the beat and stepped up to the microphone just as my phone began ringing. Abandoning the song I flung myself across the room to grab the buzzing item.

“Jesus, Trinity,” Olivia laughed, as I whizzed past her, “expecting a call maybe?”

My insides turned over as I searched through my bag for my phone, heart pounding and my mouth dry. My hand curled around it and I yanked it out of the depths of my bag.
My mom
. Instantly my whole emotional state changed and I was gutted. And then disappointed with myself at the same time. For five days now I’d been jumping every time my phone rang or beeped with a text, for five days my eyes had automatically gone to the door of The Bean each time it opened. Searching and expecting,
hoping
, it was Luke.

For the first few days I pretended that wasn’t what I was doing but I couldn’t lie to myself any longer. I wanted him to ring.

No I didn’t. Him ringing me was a very bad idea. I was right to end it when I did. It’d only been a few days. He had an emotional ex-girlfriend who seemed to be a permanent fixture in his life and I had my own problems.

But still… I wanted him to ring. I was disappointed when he didn’t. I sighed inwardly, feeling mentally exhausted every time I thought about my feuding emotions and my feelings towards Luke.

I clicked answer and brought the phone to my mouth. “Hi, Mom.”

“Trinity where the hell have you been?” she hissed down the receiver.

“I’ve moved in with a friend,” I told her patiently, turning my back on the band and lowering my voice.

“You what?” she shrieked, “and when were you going to tell me?”

I hadn’t told her. I hadn’t spoken to her since she’d pushed me over and cut my forehead. Automatically my fingers went to the healing scar on my head. The stiches were out but it would take a while for the scar to fade. The bruising on my ribs had gradually subsided too thank goodness, and I could now draw breath without wincing.

Even still. I’d moved out a week ago and she was only
now
phoning me to check where I was?

“I guess now,” I told her, hating how meek I sounded. My mother always did that to me.

“Well fine. Good for you. But what about me?”

I started at this. “What about you?”

“So you are just going to move out and never come visit again.”

That was pretty much the idea. For years my mother had all but ignored my presence in her life, and before that I’d been nothing more than an inconvenience, an accidental pregnancy that had ruined her life. And that just wasn’t just me assuming things and feeling sorry for myself, they were direct quotes that had been sprouted in my direction countless times over the years.

“I guess I can come visit,” I muttered but my insides twisted at the thought of going back to that house. But after all, she was still my mom.

“You’d better,” she warned, “your wild ways have caused enough worry for me and Kent these days.”

“Kent?”

“What you think your father doesn’t care about you?” she snapped.

Yes
! I wanted to yell but didn’t. For years my mother had been telling me how ashamed he was of me, how my existence threatened the happy home he had with someone else and made her relationship with even more difficult. Never once, had she ever suggested that he might care, that he might be interested, or even that he might want to meet me.

“I thought I was an embarrassment to him,” I told her.

“You are. But he is not a coldhearted man, Trinity,” she said, “he cares about you. You think he likes knowing that his daughter is off throwing herself at guys and strutting around in revealing outfits? What you do affects him in more ways than one.”

I nodded as if I understood what she was talking about when I really didn’t. But I didn’t want to argue with her, I never did.

“So you will come over on the weekend,” she said, not asked. “And you have more stuff here that is yours.”

“Okay.” I told her and hated that I was agreeing to this. I needed more time, I needed more time away from her so that I could break the few fragile bonds that still hung between us. It wasn’t a healthy relationship we had, I was well aware of that, but it was the only familial relationship that I had and I guess I was scared of cutting all ties. That would mean that I was completely alone then and the coward in me in hated the idea of being entirely alone. I was scared.

When I turned back to the girls they were busy chatting amongst themselves, pretending they hadn’t heard my conversation with my mother. I swallowed, hating the shame I felt at other people knowing how unloved and unwanted I was by my own parent. Not for the first time did I wish I knew who Kent really was so I could over and reveal my existence to his wife and family. But I knew I would never do that. It wasn’t their fault and they didn’t deserve to be hurt any more than my mother or I did. Telling them would only cause them heartache and achieve nothing. And besides, who was to say they didn’t already know and turn a blind eye anyway?

Once, years ago, after my grandparents passed away and I had to start sleeping on the streets the need to confront him burned deep insides me. I’d begged my mother to tell me who he was, a last name, a street address, anything. That had only got me a slap across the face so after that I’d resorted to other tactics. I told myself, as I searched through the cupboards and drawers in her bedroom, that I had a right to know who he was. That I had a right to meet my own father.

I found nothing. Some cheap, tacky lingerie that made me sick to my stomach and a few scraps of jewelry that I recognized as gifts from him after he’d been MIA for longer than normal, but otherwise nothing. Not a photo, not a letter, nothing.

I’d googled Kent in our area but had come up with too many to follow up on.

It would be easy to think he didn’t give a shit about my mother if not for the fact that even after twenty years, he just kept coming back to her. Over and over again. If we were that much of a threat to his life, that much a hindrance, why did he keep coming back?

“So,” said Gwen now, casting me a wary look, “I’m guessing that wasn’t Luke.”

I shook my head, tucking my phone back in my handbag. “My mom.”

Molly snorted but didn’t say anything.

“Why don’t you just call him?” Gwen asked, “If you like him, call him.” It was simple for Gwen. You want something you go and get it. It wasn’t so simple in my world. I couldn’t even get my father’s last name out of my mother.

“Bad idea,” I muttered making my way back to the microphone. We were busy practicing the playlist the bride and groom had given Gwen for their wedding. Honestly, it was so sweet and sappy I wondered why they’d bothered to ask us to perform in the first place and I wanted to say no. To the songs at least, to the money, no.

“I can’t see why,” Gwen said, “Toby said he was hung up on you. You are obviously hung up on him. Easy as to me.”

I snapped my head up to hers. “Did Toby also tell you he has a long-term girlfriend? “

“That Melissa chick? She’s a bitch and they are over.”

I sighed. “She
is
a bitch. But he went out with her for five years. They had plans for the future, were going to get engaged, when he decided he wanted to take a break and sow his wild oats.” I stared at her hard, “don’t you get it? I’m the field he wants to sow?”

She made a face. “So what if you are? You
can
have a little fun Trinity.”

I shook my head. “Not me. I can’t have fun without my feelings getting involved,” I told them all honestly, “I wish I could, but I can’t. As it is we saw each other like four times and I am already jumping when the phone rings and I hate it. I hate that he has had that effect on me. And as much as I wish he would call he hasn’t. That tells me more than what his words do.”

“He hasn’t called because you told him not to,” Molly reminded me, “because you cut him down in front of his mate, right after you’d spent the night. That’s gotta hurt a guy’s pride.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

The girls exchanged glances and then shrugged. “Sure. Instead of talking about this romantic, sappy shit lets sing some
Celine
.”

I laughed at the irony. “
Celine
it is. Let’s start with
My Heart Will Go On
.”

****

We practiced enough Celine and Mariah that I thought I might go insane. I knew all the lyrics now, it hadn’t taken me long since they were fairly simple. When we finished Shawna and Olivia suggested we go out for a drink.

“I want to have a beer and listen to something that is not sung in an F Sharp,” Shawna explained and we all had to agree with her.

Houdini’s was the closest bar and we all agreed to go there. Briefly, I wondered if I might see Luke but I didn’t let my thoughts linger too long in that direction.

There were quite a few people in there when we walked in. Music was what I noticed first and it was loud, grungy and male. A far cry from what I’d been singing all afternoon. I grinned to myself, feeling better already as I followed Molly and Shawna through the crowd to find a table. Gwen and Olivia went to get us a couple of drinks.

Sinking into a chair I looked around. I’d been to Houdini’s before, it was a popular hangout for the more upmarket crowd, the college students. Gwen came here often and sometimes we’d tag along with her. She knew people here, whereas the rest of us didn’t.

A DJ played music and some girls were dancing, a group of guys standing on the edge of the dance floor watching them.

Over in a corner were a few pool tables that were occupied.

Despite myself, I scanned the crowd for Luke. I wished I wouldn’t do that and wondered how long until I stopped. I hoped it was soon. He was probably out with Melissa. I was sure they had rekindled their relationship. God, if my mom hadn’t been able to walk away from a fucked up relationship after twenty years what hope did Luke have?

Gwen and Olivia placed an array of shot glasses filled with clear liquid on the table in front of us. I raised questioning eyes to them.

Olivia shrugged. “What? We deserve it after singing that shit all afternoon.”

I couldn’t agree more, so as Gwen counted us in I downed the shot with the rest of the girls.

Fire burned my throat and my eyes watered for a moment as I took a second to regain my senses. I’d never been much of a drinker, had the occasional drink at parties or at the bar with girls, but I’d seen my mother wasted too many times. And she was a pathetic drunk. All crying and weeping and feeling sorry for herself. She’d say hurtful things, things spoken from the deepest, darkest place of misery that cut more than her hand. I never wanted to be like that and apart from a drink here or there, I’d never been drunk.

Gwen, however, had other plans for tonight. She pushed another glass toward me. I tried to resist but she insisted.

“Two shots, Trinity,” she told me, “you will feel so much better and I don’t know about you but I need to wash that fucking
Mariah
right out of my head.”

I laughed. She was right. I wasn’t driving, two shots were nothing really, and god she was right about the Mariah. I would be dreaming of her high pitched voice if I didn’t do something to get rid of it.

Suddenly another shot was in front of me and without too much thought I downed it. The third one didn’t burn as much as the other two and I found a dull warmth beginning to spread throughout my muscles. God, I hadn’t even realized they were tense until they suddenly started to relax.

A great song came on and Molly pulled me to my feet with a “Let’s dance!”

There were more people on the dance floor now, including some boys. There wasn’t a band but a DJ and I enjoyed the latest top twenty hits he was pumping out. It also felt great to be on the other side of the music as well, dancing and enjoying it instead of creating it. God, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in a club and not been the one on stage and had been there simply to dance.

It had been way too long.

Shawna and Gwen joined us and the four of us were having a great time, the songs merging from one to the next. A few guys had sidled up alongside our little group and Molly was now dancing with one, although she was keeping him at arm’s length.

“Holy shit,” I heard one of them say and I looked up to see a very tall guy with shagging blonde hair leering at me. “You’re the lead singer of that chick band.”

“Moonstone,” I grinned at him, feeling a little bit elated that we’d been recognized. And in Houdini’s as well which generally attracted a different crowd to the one that frequented The Silver Den.

“You guys are awesome!” he shouted the words into my ear so I could hear him over the music and his hot breath tickled my ear. “And the lead singer is sexy as.”

His words ran like a caress over me.
See,
I told myself,
this is what I needed
. To meet someone different, someone else who liked Moonstone as much as Luke. Someone who liked me.