A red tainted Silence (27 page)

“Me, too. Think she put meat in the spaghetti sauce?”

“I don’t know.” I started to stand, and he held his hand out. I grasped it, grinning as he didn’t let go but instead pulled me to him. I looped my hands around his waist and hugged him, my grin turning a bit misty as he threw his arms around me and squeezed tight.

“Can’t believe how much I missed you. I couldn’t wait for the last ankle-biter to go home.”

“I missed you, too.”

“You were asleep. How could you miss me?”

I pulled back. “Because I didn’t fall asleep in your arms. I missed you then,” I said shyly.

His gaze softened and he smiled, then kissed me. “I can’t wait for tonight.”

“Me, either.”

“You owe me, remember?”

I pulled him closer, swaying on my feet. “I know. I owe you big. I’ve got news for you, though.”

He released me; guess he heard something in my voice. “What? Did you hear on your keyboards?”

“No, not that, but I plan to pick them up Monday.”

“Andy’s a gem.”

I frowned at him. “How’d you know about that, anyway?” He grinned, pulling away from me and twirling in a circle. “’Cause he called the record store last night, to make sure that we found each other. When I told him we had, he got all A Red-Tainted Silence

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excited and told me.” He paused, looking at me with sad eyes. “Too bad we’re kinda at an impasse right now.”

“Well, not exactly.”

“Oh?”

“Adam came by this afternoon. The guys want you, Nicholas.” He froze for a moment, those blue eyes of his flashing with emotion. His shoulders sank. “The guys. The others, not him.”

I grasped his shoulders and grimaced. “He’s given us two weeks, to see if it works.

Rehearsals start Tuesday.”

He dropped his gaze to the floor, lost in thought. “Two weeks. That’s not much time.” He looked up at me. “What time Tuesday?”

“We usually practice in the afternoons. Most of the guys work at night.” He blanched. “Afternoons. I’ll have to quit my school job, then.” I started to protest, but he waved me away. “No, no, it’s okay. I said I’d do what I have to do. I can drop Wednesday night and see if Charlie will let me work then.”

“Are you sure?”

He grinned, but I still saw the worry in his eyes. “Of course I am. I’ll miss the rugrats, but it’ll be okay. I’m in the band!” He swooped me into his arms, picking me up and awkwardly twirling me more or less around.

I laughed with relief. “Let me down, silly.”

He plunked me unceremoniously onto my feet, then kissed me on the cheek. “This is great. I can’t believe he said yes.”

“He’s not too happy about it, but Jonathan and the other guys kinda ran over his protests.”

“Jonathan’s in the band?”

“Sort of. He plays bass guitar, but his job takes him away a lot. He just got back from England. He’s just in it for the fun of it anymore. He’ll be happy you’re in, though.”

“Are you happy I’m in?”

I smiled shyly at him. “Of course I am.” Then I remembered Adam’s warning. I sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Adam insists the guys in the band not know about us, Nicholas. You okay with that?” He grabbed my hands, his expression sobering. “Yes. And no. Remember what I said the other night?”

I nodded. Every word he’d said burned in my memory. “Yeah.”

“We’ll still have our nights together. I promise. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

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Carolyn Gray

“Man of few words.”

I pulled him to me, kissing him. “But I feel them, Nicholas. Inside. And you’re going to help me bring them out.”

The blissful smile on his face filled me, consumed me, made me feel truly whole. I think that simple moment was one of the happiest I ever had with Nicholas.

Nicholas looked closely at me, then reached out and brushed my hair back. “Brandon Ashwood. What are those?”

I ducked my head, embarrassed -- but the good kind of embarrassed. “Earrings.” He chortled, reaching up with his other hand and pushing my hair behind my ears. “I can see that, silly boy. I didn’t know your ears were pierced.” I lifted my chin, feeling a wave of defiance course through me. “Got them done a year ago. Dad’s kicking me out, so I decided to put them back in.”

“He made you take them out?”

I nodded curtly. He sighed in sympathy, then took a step back, tilting his head to the side, his fingers resting on his chin as he evaluated my new look. I stood awkwardly before him -- I wasn’t used to such blatant attention.

“I like them. They’re you. Nice hickey, too. Think maybe I should get one?”

“You want me to give you a hickey?” I said, a little embarrassed at the thought of matching hickeys.

He laughed. “No, silly. I meant, should I get one of my ears pierced?” He tugged his left ear. “This one?”

“It hurts,” I warned.

He winced. “I hate pain. Maybe I should try a clip-on instead. Think?” I laughed, then walked over and picked up my suitcase. “Come on. Jonathan’s waiting, and I want to stop by Adam’s and get the rest of my things. Don’t worry, he won’t be there.”

“Okay,” he said, jiggling my keys in his hand. “I want to run by the shelter, too, and get my box of stuff.”

“Sure. Let me see the keys a minute.”

He tossed them to me. I headed for the door, unclipping the house key from my chain.

I felt Nick’s eyes on me as I veered toward my dad’s chair. I stood for a moment, staring down at it, feeling tears burn at the back of my eyes.

Fuck you, Dad. I set the key next to his remote control, but still stood there, despair warring with my anger. Nicholas came up behind me, resting one hand on my shoulder.

“Come on, Brandon. Let’s go.”

I nodded, letting him lead me out of my parents’ house, glancing at my piano for what I feared might be the last time.

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Nicholas drove. I stared out the window, seeing only what was necessary to direct him to Adam’s apartment. I took that key off, too, as we went inside. Nicholas waited in the living room, watching the TV while I threw my few possessions into a box. That’s what I’d been reduced to -- a small suitcase and a box.

I took the box outside, stuffing it into the back seat before going back inside. Nicholas had turned off the TV, watching me as I walked over to the corner where my guitar leaned on its stand.

“I can’t wait to hear you play that,” Nicholas said.

I looked up at him and smiled. “I can’t wait to play for you, either. Here.” I handed it to him, walked back into the bedroom, and returned with another guitar, my acoustic. I handed that to him, too. “Not sure how I’m going to get all this stuff in,” I said, unplugging my amp and hauling it out to the car, Nicholas following after me.

It took some doing. Finally Nicholas had to sit in the back, the amp and guitars up front. I locked the apartment door and closed it, realized I still had the key, and opened the door again to toss the key onto the kitchen counter. I took a last look around -- I’d only been there a few weeks and never made my mark on the meager rooms. Except for the missing guitars, there was really no sign I’d ever been there.

I locked the door and returned to Nicholas. “You okay?” I asked as I got in.

“Yeah. You know where the shelter is?”

“Yup.”

We drove there in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. We arrived at last. The parking lot was pretty much empty. “That’s my car,” he said as we passed an old, rusted yellow car.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Dead. Simply dead. I’m going to have to have it hauled off.”

“Mine’s not much better.”

“At least it runs.”

I parked the Volkswagen. Nicholas had to practically climb over my seat to get out. He didn’t say anything as I followed him into the shelter; I could sense his unease as we entered.

We walked down a short corridor with institutional green floors so shiny I could see our reflections. I gave him his space, sensing a strange new aura around him.

I thought a shelter was supposed to be a haven. Now I wondered. Questions popped into my mind -- questions I hadn’t had a chance to ask him. Where were his parents? Was he an only child? Why didn’t he tell them he was stuck here?

“This way,” he said softly. I could see him steel himself as he paused at a door, then turned the handle. I drew closer to him, soaking up his wariness. We entered a small room with six beds in it. There was no one inside.

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Carolyn Gray

His breath came out in a swoosh.

“You okay, Nicholas?”

He glanced at me, his blue eyes wide with discomfort. But he smiled gamely and nodded. “Yes. No one’s here.”

I touched his arm. “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere.” What had gone on here?

He walked to the farthest bed, one covered in a well-worn yellow and black quilt.

“Would you mind folding that?”

“Sure.” I pulled the quilt off the bed and began to fold it. It was so soft, ancient. Hand-stitched by someone with patient care. My mom would’ve had a fit -- she’d hang a quilt like this on special hangers on the wall. “This is beautiful.”

“My gran made it.”

His gran. Another question to ask. I set the folded blanket on the end of the bed. He placed a single pillow on top of it. I stared at the small bed, barely more than a twin. What must it have been like, having to stay here? It looked like I imagined an orphanage would look. An orphanage for adults.

Nicholas knelt and reached beneath the bed to pull out a box. It was almost empty, just a few clothes neatly folded inside and a few envelopes with writing on the outside. He set the box on the bed, then opened the single drawer in the bedside table. A brush, a comb, toothbrush and toothpaste. He placed them in the box. “Okay, that’s it.” The door opened. Nicholas whirled around, his eyes wide, his mouth open slightly as he stared at the newcomer.

I glanced at the man walking with heavy strides toward us. He was a big man --

muscles, not fat rippled beneath his faded black t-shirt. His hair was thinning on top, though he didn’t look much older than Jonathan. He almost waddled as he walked, his legs were so muscular and bulging through worn jeans. His small, dark eyes took me in, dismissing me to focus on Nicholas.

“Where you been?”

“Wh-why are you here, Mack? You aren’t supposed to come around here anymore.” His gaze darted to me.

“Saw you come in. Thought I’d see you a sec. Somethin’ wrong with that?”

“O-of course n-not.”

“So what are you doing?”

Nicholas was trembling. I automatically place myself in front of him. The man frowned, then leaned against the bed and folded his arms across his chest. He flexed his biceps -- it would take both of mine to equal one of his. I pushed my nervousness aside, though. Nicholas didn’t need me to freak out now.

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“I’m leaving, Mack. That’s all.”

“You weren’t going to tell me?”

Nick’s face paled. “I-I wouldn’t know where you were.”

“You know where I work. Took the day off. So where you going?”

“He’s going with me.”

Mack looked at me, his nostrils flaring. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m Nick’s friend. Are we done here, Nicholas?”

“Y-yes ...”

I picked up the blanket and pillow, set them in the box, and picked it up. “Come on, then. My brother’s waiting for us.”

Mack eased from his position, staring down at me. His gaze hardened. “I asked Nicholas where he was going. Not you, little shit.”

“And I answered for him. Let’s go Nicholas. Now.” Balancing the box on my hip, I reached out and pulled at his arm. Nicholas gulped, but moved at my urging. I pulled him along with me, past Mack -- he didn’t move. I felt his anger, barely in check, smelled his hatred for me as I passed. He fell into step behind us. I didn’t loosen my grip on Nicholas, propelling him ahead of me.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. The muscles of his arm quivered beneath my hand.

Mack still followed, banging the door against the wall as he passed through it after us.

Nicholas flinched.

“Don’t stop moving, Nicholas,” I said. “Don’t look back at him.” We made it to the outer door. I pushed him through and followed him. Sweat trickled down my back, my own breath coming rapidly now. If the guy tried anything, the only weapon I had was a quilt and a box of clothes.

Not a very effective weapon, either one.

It took all my willpower not to run to the car, dragging Nicholas along with me. When we finally made it there, I could feel Mack’s eyes boring into us. I quickly unlocked the door and all but shoved Nicholas into the back seat again, handing him the box. A quick glance proved my suspicions -- Mack was walking toward us, was practically at the back bumper. I did a trick Jenny had taught me -- placed the keys on my keychain between my fingers so they jutted out. An effective weapon.

Just hoped I wouldn’t have to use it.

Nick’s eyes were huge as he watched Mack come around to my side of the car.

“Who do you think you are?” Mack asked me.

“I’m Nick’s friend. You aren’t. Leave him alone.” 160

Carolyn Gray

He looked me up and down and burst out laughing. “You’re nuts, you know that?

Skinny bastard like you, I could toss you over the car if I wanted. Nick’s my friend. Aren’t you, Nicholas?” Mack leaned toward me, trying to look into the car. I refused to back down. I could smell the rancid smell of onions and smoke and sweat hovering around him. I felt nauseous. “He’s my little buddy. Right, Nick?”

“Back away from the car,” I said.

“I don’t think so.”

A car drove past us, then stopped. Mack stepped back, anger flashing in his eyes as an older woman hardly bigger than Jenn got out of the car. She put her hands on her hips and frowned at us, her glance taking in Nicholas, white-faced in the back seat.

“Mack, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

“Nothing’s going on, Miss J. Nick’s leaving, and I was just saying goodbye. Can’t a guy say goodbye to his friend?”

The woman looked at the keys in my fist, at Nicholas, and gestured with her chin. “Go on, you two. Now.”