Night Shifts Black (4 page)

I suck in my breath,
waiting, fearing, watching Luke, anticipating something, but I have no way of
knowing what. His blue-green eyes absorb every square inch of the table beside
us. I can even see his muscles constricting through his shirt, contracting as
he clenches his fist, already punishing the couple for a sin they can’t
possibly be liable for. But they are, and I understand that, even though I want
to rescue both sides from an unjust war that can’t occur.

“You want to go?” I
ask. I’m sure the concern in my heart is all over my face, but he’s not looking
at me. He’s looking at them. “Luke, we should just go.”

“What am I doing? What
have I done?” he rasps, shoving back from the table.

I’m stunned. Hurt, but
also afraid, as he charges from the restaurant. I don’t know what he has to run
to apart from me and his chair, but I’m terrified it’s only going to make
things worse for him.

I can’t follow him, I
know that. I have no right to offer comfort. I’m only part of his life when
he’s here, at this table. He hasn’t invited me into the rest, but Shauna comes
rushing over and prevents such a mistake anyway.

“Are you ok?” she
asks, staring at the door just as Luke disappears through it.

“Fine,” I say. “It
wasn’t about me.” I glance over at the table beside us and notice the couple
whispering to each other. They’re watching the door as well, and suddenly I’m
angry at their gossip. They don’t know. I don’t even know. They’re not allowed
to judge him. I hate them for judging him. Shauna follows my gaze, and I’m
pretty sure she understands my message.

“I told Ailee to leave
that table open while he’s here,” she mutters. “I’m sorry.”

I want to tell her
that it’s ok. That it’s not a big deal, but it is. There are plenty of other empty
tables in the café. It’s not packed. It’s not ok.

“His name is Luke,” I
say, drawing Shauna back to the conversation.

“Luke.”

She says it like that
information answers a lot of questions for her.

“He’s a musician. Or
was.”

She nods. “I can
believe that. He’s pretty cute, actually.”

He is, but it seems silly
to talk about stuff like that right now. I try to smile. “I hope he comes
back.”

“I was surprised when
he started talking to you. He didn’t talk to anyone until you.”

“Did anyone ever try
to talk to him?”

No. That’s obvious.
She just looks away and shrugs. It’s not her job to talk to customers if they
aren’t customers. I know that. I can forgive her. It still hurts.

 
“Are you going to finish your meal?”

I should. The only
thing stopping me is the fact that I’m no longer hungry. “Can I get it to go?”

She smiles. Again, she
seems to understand. I wonder why she didn’t try to talk to Luke. Maybe it
wouldn’t have come to this. Maybe he wouldn’t have needed me and would be
getting to know Shauna instead. I go cold at the thought. I can be a very
selfish person.

“I’ll get a box. You
want his, too?”

I look at his
untouched plate. I do, but not because I want to eat it. I just can’t stomach
the thought of leaving it to be discarded by a heartless busboy.

“Sure. I’ll pay for
both, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried, Callie.”

Surprised, I somehow
manage to thank her. I’m not sure how she knows my name. Maybe she knew his,
too, and just pretended not to. It has to be hard to spend your days around
people pretending not to know them.

I glance over at the
invading couple. They’ve now relaxed and are scanning the menu. I think of
Luke. His ring. His eyes. The anger slipping into his face.

He hadn’t run that day
he encountered me in his chair. I wonder what changed.

∞∞∞

I’m not surprised when Luke doesn’t show up
the next day. I don’t intend to stay long either. I stop by the table, check in
with Shauna, then move on to the next phase of my schedule.

The second day I can forgive
as well. I never lost a spouse. I have no idea how long the grieving period is
or what it takes to recover from something like that. I figure it’s probably
more than two days. I still check back in at Jemma’s, just in case, this time
taking my place at the table for a cup of tea. I hope the recovery period is
shorter than I imagine, and my gaze shoots to the door every time it opens, but
it’s never Luke. I see Stan, even Darryn showing up for a shift, but not Luke.

By day three I’m
starting to get concerned. I don’t really know him, but that fact brings no
comfort, only leaves me feeling incomplete. We have work to do, conversations
to explore, memories to share. I don’t know Luke well enough to need him, but I
know I need to finish whatever we’ve started, even if we’re only two strangers
who decide to remain that way. I just need it to end with a choice.

I quiz Shauna on day four,
but she hasn’t seen him. Even the hostess shrugs, making it clear that my
problem is not her problem. Luke is a sidebar, an anecdote for her friends over
a beer on the Friday nights she isn’t working. He’s the weird guy who comes in
and disturbs the peace by staring at a chair like a freak. That is, until he
started eating breakfast with me. Now, he’s the freak who runs away when other
people sit in a chair. She isn’t going to help me.

Oddly enough, my only
clue comes from Stan. Luke had taken a call after he fled that day. Stan heard
every detail as the younger man hovered in the windbreak, pleading with someone
to cancel something and sell the rights to something else. Since Stan knows nothing
about him, the conversation makes no sense to him. Since I do, I know I have to
keep waiting for him.

So, I do. Day five,
day six, and day seven. An entire week I wait.

It isn’t until the
following week when I can finally breathe again.

Day
Five.

“Callie.”

I want to hug him. I
actually start to rise from my chair to begin the embrace and catch myself.

“Luke.”

He sighs and drops to
the seat across from me. “I’m sorry.”

“For disappearing for
a week without a word, or giving me a heart attack?”

“You were worried about
me? You shouldn’t worry about me.”

“Of course I was! You
didn’t exactly leave in a calm state. Then, nothing for days. What am I
supposed to think?”

“Like I said, you
really shouldn’t worry about me. You can’t, ok?”

Says the most biased
judge in the history of verdicts.

And yes, I catch the
disturbingly cryptic nature of his warning, but it’s a dangerous sentence. I
can’t deal with that right now.

“Next time, can you at
least text me or something?”

“I don’t have your number.”

“You could.”

He nods, but doesn’t
ask for it. I try not to be hurt.

“I’m just saying that
we were all worried about you.”

“I’m still confused by
that. Why would you be worried?”

I really don’t have a
good answer. I mean, I have answers, they’d just sound crazy out loud. He’s a
stranger. He’s asked for nothing. I owe him nothing. He owes me even less. Why
would I be worried? Because he’s more important to me than he should be? That’s
not an answer. That’s my problem, not his.

“We just were.” And
that was even worse than an answer.

“Really. It’s my turn
to go out on a limb and guess that by ‘we’ you mean ‘you.’ I can’t imagine
anyone else here cared that I didn’t come in for breakfast.”

“And what if it does?”

“Now I have to check
in with the Jemma’s Café patrons every time I do anything?”

He’s trying to sound
playful. He’s not even close.

“No, of course not, but
a week? Last time I saw you, you were so upset you stormed off. How am I
supposed to know how you fared after that?”

He doesn’t respond at
first, and somehow I know what he’s thinking. Why is he even here? I’m nobody,
and now I’m a nobody who nags him. I hate being a nobody who nags him. I’m more
than that. He’s more than that. We’re so much more than that.

“Well, I fared fine. I
went home and cooled off. Then did some traveling. Now, I’m back.”

I have to stop
nagging. I force away what’s left of it. “Traveling? Where to?”

Darryn arrives, and
I’m not sure if his timing is perfect or terrible. “Morning, guys. Tea?
Coffee?”

We thank him.

“Houston.”

“Texas?”

He gives me a look.
“Yes. Houston, Texas.”

Ok, it was a dumb
question. “What’s in Houston?”

“Family.”

I nod. “So is that
where you’re from in the States?”

He looks away and
shakes his head. “Kind of. She was.”

It’s her family.

My stomach actually
begins to constrict a little. We both look at his ring. I want to touch it. To
trace the intricate etchings in some absurd attempt to soothe the pain.

“What about you?
Shelteron, huh?”

I sigh. “Yeah. Shelteron.
I have family there. My dad, anyway. We haven’t seen my mom in over ten years.”

“She took off?”

I nod. “New boyfriend,
new life.”

“And your dad?”

“New girlfriend, same
life.”

“And yet, you’re
here.”

I’m not as terrified
of my own history as he is of his, but it still isn’t my favorite topic.

“I am. New girlfriend
isn’t a gem, which is why she’s perfect for my dad.”

He understands, and I
notice the change in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “Anyway,
there was never anything major. It just didn’t make sense for me to stick
around once I didn’t have to.”

“Still, it’s admirable
that you are able to live independently as a writer.”

“It’s not all that
impressive.”

“Sure it is. It can
take years to generate enough income in that profession to survive alone,
especially here, and you’re doing it at twenty-three.”

Not exactly. I clear
my throat and look away. I know the second he says those words that I’ll regret
letting him admire me for a lie, so I can’t let this go.

“Actually, I don’t
make enough to survive. The reason I could leave Shelteron was because of an
insurance settlement.”

“Insurance
settlement?”

“Yeah.” I still can’t
look at him, even though I feel him studying every inch of me. “But no personal
stuff, right?” I remind him quickly, trying to smile to lighten the comment. I
hate closing a door, but I can’t go there. Not yet. If anyone would understand
that…

He does. “Sorry, no
you’re right. It just seemed like maybe you wanted to talk about it.”

It probably did. And
maybe that was even true until it started coming out. That story isn’t an
out-loud story.

“I know. I only
brought it up because I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression. I didn’t
want to lie to you.”

“You weren’t lying. Having
secrets isn’t lying.”

“Sometimes not.
Sometimes it is.”

It’s his turn to look
away and I wonder which part of this conversation is causing the problem.

Darryn brings our
drinks, but we both decide to pass on food today. I’m not surprised given our
rocky start to the conversation. Neither of us wants to commit to a long
encounter right now.

We don’t talk for a
while after Darryn leaves. Luke is meticulous about opening the creamer cup and
mixing its contents with his coffee. He’s painfully thorough. I doubt there is
a single drop of creamer that isn’t transferred and completely dissolved into
his cup. He wasn’t so meticulous the last time he had coffee with me. To be
fair, my teacup suddenly doesn’t seem to sit quite right on the saucer, and I adjust
it in an endless loop of futility.

It’s then that I notice
the four girls whispering several booths away. I wonder if they recognize Luke
as the chair-watcher, or just as a good-looking guy with an average woman who’s
clearly beneath him. My interest is piqued when one of them is pushed from her
seat by the others, and it becomes apparent I’m about to learn the answer to my
question.

She stops a few times during
her approach, glancing back at her friends whose whispers and silent giggles
have reached what seems like a feverish pitch to me, but hasn’t fazed Luke. His
back is to them. He hasn’t even turned to take a peek at the commotion. I don’t
know how he hasn’t noticed the direct attention when I can’t focus on anything
else.

The girl continues to
move forward, and I’m startled to catch a glimpse of a pen. I can’t make out
the contents of her other hand, but suddenly, my blood runs cold at the
prospect of what I’m about to witness. I glance back at Luke and am also
surprised by his clenched jaw. I thought he hadn’t noticed the girls, but it
turns out I just hadn’t noticed him enough.

“Hi. Um…I’m sorry to
bother you. You’re from NSB, right? Ok, wow…can you sign this? Please? My
sister will die. She loves you guys!”

I stay calm, suddenly
losing sight of everything around me except Luke’s face. I watch him react,
instinctively, a new smile I haven’t seen yet crossing his features. It’s not
the fake one he uses for Darryn, or the weak one I get when he’s trying to be
nice but can’t. It’s definitely not the real one I’ve captured a few times that
turns his entire face into a work of art. This one is some combination of all
three. It’s his stage smile, and it fascinates me.

“Sure. What’s her
name?”

The girl nearly
shrieks with excitement and shoves the pen at him along with what I can now see
is a carwash flyer.

“Um, Linny. That’s
with a ‘y.’”

She hovers inches from
him, watching each stroke of the pen. Probably breathing in his aftershave, his
shampoo. Maybe even getting a bit of the leather jacket brushing against her
hip. She’d definitely be able to feel the heat of his body. She’s now been
closer to him than I have, and I’m forced to fight off the sudden absurd stab
of jealousy.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you, thank you,
thank you! She will die! She’s going to seriously pass out! I love your accent
by the way.” She looks at the flyer as if verifying it’s real. “Wait, you’re actually
Luke from NSB? You’re her favorite! She’s totally in love with you!”

Luke smiles again,
dismissively this time, but the girl doesn’t seem to get his subtle hint.

“Thanks.”

The girl is now
reaching for her phone, and I have no choice. A photo op is the last thing we
need right now.

“Hey, hon, thanks for
stopping by,” I interject, “but we’re actually in the middle of something.” She
looks disappointed, but resigns to her fate.

“Oh, ok. Well, it was
great to meet you! I can’t believe I just met Luke Craven from Night Shifts
Black!”

She squeals again, and
unfortunately now we have the attention of everyone else in the café. Even
Stan’s expression has softened from irritation to curiosity. Ailee the hostess
looks like she’s going to be sick. She didn’t know she’d been tormenting Luke Craven
from Night Shifts Black.

“Do you want to go?” I
ask, ignoring them all.

He shakes his head and
stares back at his coffee. “I can’t yet. I will in a second.”

“You can’t?”

I don’t understand. I
start to glance around at everyone else for clues, but then remember I’ll
probably learn more from watching him. He’s studying them, too, discreetly,
maybe judging their own interest. Apart from the one table of admirers, the
general demographic of the café is older at this time of the morning, and it
all finally starts to come together. Stan is not a fan of Night Shifts Black. It’s
doubtful the old lady in the wheelchair or today’s Hope Retirement Home Bridge Club
are fans either. Luke has nothing to fear from them. He’s just making sure, and
needs to play it cool or will invite even more attention.

“So Night Shifts
Black, huh? You said you were a musician. You aren’t just a musician.”

“Yes, I am.”

My pulse starts to pound,
and I hope it’s because I find him more interesting due to something other than
what I just learned. I don’t want to be Linny and her sister.

“Right. That’s like
saying Abe Lincoln was just a politician.”

“He was.”

I smile and shake my
head.

“Perfect. So now I
suppose you want an autograph, too?”

“Only if it’s on the
check for my tea.”

This time I get the
real smile, and manage to find my way back to the Luke I was just starting to
know. The Luke who was fascinating before he was a superstar. The Luke who was
ancient, shattered, and completely obsessed with a chair.

“I hate to admit it,
but I’m actually starting to remember that whole scandal now. You left the band
right after you won a bunch of awards for your last album. Didn’t you write a
hit song for that motorcycle biopic or something? It blew everyone’s mind. No
one could understand why you’d walk away right as you were taking off.”

Luke doesn’t respond.
He’s heard this question a million times. From people a lot more important than
I am.

“I’m sorry. It’s none
of my business.”

“No, it’s not.”

I glance at the chair
then, I can’t help it, and he does, too. This time he doesn’t shutdown, but
seems almost guilty, and his eyes barely brush the surface of it before turning
back to me.

“You haven’t learned
anything new, Callie. Don’t think for a second that this information tells you
anything about me you didn’t know before.”

His words hit me hard.

I quiet as I absorb
them, trying to decipher the painful depth of that complex statement. There are
so many layers, I’m not sure which one to respond to. I play it safe instead.

“I’m sorry, but I have
to disagree. I now know that you have little reverence for carwash flyers.”

His eyes meet mine and
it takes a moment for him to process my joke. Once he does, his grin is totally
worth every agonizing second.

“I’ve signed worse,”
he returns.

“I believe you.”

I pause and lean
forward. “Examples?”

He laughs. “You don’t
want to know.”

“Oh, I do. And now, even
more so.”

He suddenly looks shy,
and I can’t understand why. There’s no way the former frontman for Night Shifts
Black could be shy, for any reason. Then, I realize my confusion is because I’m
doing exactly what he told me not to: assuming I actually know anything about
him.