Face the Music (45 page)

“You shouldn’t start things you can’t finish,” he teased.  “What were you thinking?”

“Who says I can’t finish?”  I had every intention of finishing.  But first I had to pee.  “Let me up.”

He climbed off me, and I got up and went to the bathroom.  When I came out, I wore nothing but a smile.  “You still have pants on,” I observed from the doorway.

He raised an eyebrow and let out a low whistle, but wasted no time getting undressed.  He followed me
in
to the bedroom.

We stood, facing each other, at the foot of the bed.  “I’m glad you came over,” he said, running his fingertips up and down my arms.

I laughed.  “I bet you are!”

He cocked his head as he looked at me.  “Really, I am.  Even without all this.  I like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you, too,” I said.  I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to me.  Our lips met.  His tongue pushed against mine, and I opened my mou
th wider, letting him in.  He m
oaned and pressed harder against me.

When we came up for air, I whispered, “I like this, too.”

I felt him smile against me.  “I’m so glad.”

I let all my worries fade with the intimacy of Chris's touch.  He was soft and gentle, always taking his time and never rushing me.  When we finished, I showered and put on one of his big t-shirts.  He patted the spot next to him on the couch.  “Ready to play?” he asked.

“I thought we just did.”

He
gave me a cock-eyed look
.  “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

I shrugged. 
“I don’t know
.  I
guess you make me feel good.”

“I like making you feel good.”

We played an alien-invasion game for a little while, and
after saving the planet from total annihilation, we
went back to the bedroom to watch TV. 
I sat back and snuggled against one of his large pillows, watching as
he
flipped though the channels.  He settled on some brainless horror flick.

The movie was gory, and I
quickly
bored of its predictable plot.  Rolling over onto my stomach, I admired the cross that was tattooed on his left bicep.  It was black with curvy designs that swirled out from the center.  He looked down at me as I traced my fingertip along its shape. 

“What made you decide to have this done?”

“Well, it’s a cross, so...”

I gave him
a playful pinch.  “I can see that.  W
hy did you do it?”

“I don’t know.
Why does anyone get tattooed?
”

“Which one was your first?”

He twisted away from me, revealing a
black and orange
flaming guitar on the side of his torso. 
It was about the size of my hand. 
Beneath the picture were the words
Dark Legends
. 

“What’s the story
with it
?”

“I was sixteen,” he began.

“Sixteen!  But
,
you can’t even legally…”

He s
nickered
and planted a chaste kiss on my forehead
.  “I lied about my age
.”

“Oh.
”
  I wondered
if
it had anything to do with his ‘rough patch
,
’
but
I
decided not to bring it up.

He grinned.  “I was part of a band
,
and we all decided to get one.  I p
layed the guitar, so obviously…
” h
is voice trailed off.

“Yeah, I get it.  What does ‘Dark Legends’ mean?”

He looked away, as if considering whether or not to tell me.  “That was the name of our band.”

I sat up and laughed.  “Really? 
Dark Legends
?  What kind of band was it?”

He shrugged.  “A metal band.  We were kids.  At the time it seemed brilliant.”

I looked at the TV and recoiled in disgust when a man’s arm was chopped off.  Blood spewed out in all directions, painting the sidewalk red. 

“Do you regret it?” I asked, returning my attention to
his tattoos
.

“No, not at all.  It’s a part of who I am.”  He turned from the TV and studied my
face, all traces of humor gone.

“What?”
I asked, suddenly worried. 
Mr. Doveland’s words echoed in my ears. 

“Are you ready to tell me yet?”

“Tell you what?”

“What’s got you so stressed out?”

I turned to hide my expression.  “I’m fine.”

He reached out and swept my hair from my neck.  Pressing his soft lips against my skin, he whispered, “Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here.”

I must have fallen asle
ep sometime during the movie.  When I woke up, i
t was three
in the morning
,
and I was drenched with sweat.  Chris was next to me, his bare
chest pressed against my side.  H
is arm
was wrapped around my belly, and o
ne of
his legs was looped around mine. 

I
lay
there for several minutes, letting
my eyes adjust to the darkness.  Not wanting to wake him, I
carefully squirmed out of bed. 
I slipped on my pants and shoes and tip
-
toed out the door, but was horrified to find the mob of reporte
rs camped out on the sidewalk.

“Allison Banks!  Did you spend the night with Chris Knots?” they yelled, snapping pictures as I crawled into a cab.  I cl
osed my eyes and hung my head.  T
his was not the image Chris needed.  I was sure it would be all over the news by morning.

I again considered Mr. Dovelands words. 
I know you’ll do the right thing.
 

I knew exactly what he meant by ‘right’, I just wasn’t sure it was something I could do.  Would my own selfishness keep Chris from reaching his full potential?

Chapter 23

My sleep was troubled.  I was running, but I wasn’t exactly sure what from.  All I knew was that it wouldn’t
be good if I stopped and let them catch
me. 

Everything outside was grey, and I ran through the empty streets, searching.  I didn’t know where I was going or what I was looking for, only that I would be safe once I found it. 

I came to a building.  It was drab against the already lifeless street, but as I got closer
,
I saw something, a mob of people, standing outside the doors.  They jumped to their feet when they saw me. 

I ran towards them, not because I wanted to be with them, but because I needed to get inside.  They pulled at me as I passed by, knocking me to the ground. 

Bright flashes blinded me.  Piercing s
creams
rang
in my ears. 

I tore through them, fighting to break free, and ran inside.  They followed me to the stairwell, chanting my name and flashing more pictures.

R
oom 522,
that’s where I needed to go. 
If
I could make it
,
I’d be safe. 
I ran through the long halls, the mob closing in behind me. 

T
he door
was open.
I ran in and slammed it shut.  The noise outside quieted.

I turned around to take in my new surroundings.  Everything was in color now.  I was in a small, dank apartment littered with smelly take-out boxes and bottles of liquor.  From the back room I could hear soft music.  I felt my way down the hall and paused in the doorway of the bedroom. 

Chris was on the floor.  His clothes were
crumpled
and stained, like he’d been wearing them for days.
 
Wrinkles
lined
the corners of his empty,
unfocused
eyes as he strummed random chords on his guitar. 
Next to him was a half
-
empty bottle of whisky.

“
What’s
wrong with you?” I heard myself ask.

The music stopped as he looked up at me.  “I gave it all up.”

“What?  What did you give up?”

He picked up the bottle and took a long swig.  A trail of whiskey dribbled down his chin, soaking
into his shirt.  “Everything.
”

BEEP BEEP
!  My alarm
screeched
in the background.

I sat up and fought to catch my breath.  The image of C
hris, so lost
and empty
, was at the front of my thoughts.

I tried to shake it off as I climbed out of
bed
and headed to the shower
.

I was rinsing the almon
d-
scented shampoo from my hair when
Emily pulled back the
curtain.
 
I jumped.  “Hey!”

She didn’t seem to care that I was completely naked.  “Where were you last night?”

I gave her an annoyed look
and tugged on the curtain, pulling it closed.  Working
a thick, creamy condition
er through my tangles, I said, “
Well gee,
Mom
, I was with Chris.”  It would be public knowledge soon enough, no sense lying to my own sister.
 

“All night?
  What time did you get home?”

“Aroun
d three.”  I rinsed out my hair
and
told her about my evening.  “I fell asleep.  Reporters caught me leaving.”

She laughed.

“It’s not funny.  What will people say?”

“I saw you on TV last night.  I was watching
Entertainment Daily
,
and they showed a clip of you and Chris going into the theater.”