I place the last of five pints on my tray and negotiate the crowded room to a table up front. Movement from the stage catches my eye. I peek over and see Ataxia is there setting up.
My eyes find Rex out of habit, and no matter how hard I try to look away, I can’t. He’s dressed in charcoal gray Dickies and black Chucks. His faded As-I-Lay-Dying tee looks a half size too small, hugging his heavily tattooed biceps and stretching across his chest and shoulders. If he were to lift his arms, even a little, I’d get a glimpse of his rippled abdomen. He’s wearing a black baseball hat cocked just off center enough to showcase the two small silver barbells in his eyebrow.
I’m staring. I know I should turn away before I get caught, but tucked into the safety of the crowd, I think I’m safe. He’s setting up the mic, concentrating, and rolls his full bottom lip between his teeth. With a step back, he checks out the height of the stand, pulling at his lip ring.
He’s so different from the boy I knew, but no less handsome. Even behind all the metal in his face, I can see those same blue eyes. But there’s a hardness to them now, a steel that matches his expression, as if life has lost its luster and he’s adjusted to the disappointment.
“Yo, sweet tits, you gonna deliver us those beers or am I going to have to come and get ’em from you.” One of the guys at my table thinks he’s a comedian and laughs at his own crappy joke.
I drag my eyes away from Rex and deliver the beers. Get with it, Mac. Tonight could be the night I finally break through and have the courage to introduce myself. Yeah right. I say that every Sunday night Ataxia plays and haven’t gotten any further than offering him a drink.
To think I’ve been waiting most of my life to see him again, planned my speech to perfection over years and years of solitude, but don’t have the courage to follow through. Pathetic.
“You may as well grab me another one of these.” The jerk gulps down half the beer I just gave him and burps.
How long have I been standing here?
“Sure thing.” I turn and head to check on another table.
“Don’t know what I like better. Watching her go or watching her come.” The table of douche morons laughs, and I could’ve sworn I heard the palm slap of a high-five.
Usually I’d have some smart-ass remark that would shut that asshole up, but I’m in no mood to fight. I can’t get the visual of Rex and that girl out of my head: his huge frame towering over hers, long powerful arms swallowing her whole.
I shouldn’t care. His happiness is the most important thing. It’s the only thing I’ve ever cared about since I reappeared in his life. But why does it feel as though I’ve lost something?
Groupies hang on him all the time, but he’s never given them more than his polite attention. I’ve never seen him leave with a girl, and I’d know. I watch.
“Mac!” A familiar voice pulls my attention.
I search the direction and see Layla, a girl I met back in February, who is now living with Rex’s friend and fellow UFL fighter, Blake Daniels.
She’s wearing her usual kick-ass jeans with a heavy metal concert tee and biker boots.
“Hey.” My eyes swing to Blake, who seems to be giving a few guys at the bar dirty looks. “Blake.”
He grumbles his hello and Layla rolls her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Those guys made the mistake of looking at me. Guess they forgot that when I’m around they need to avert their eyes to the floor.” The sarcasm in her voice is thick.
“Damn right, those fuckers need to keep their eyes to the floor.” He slowly removes his glare from the poor guys who I’m sure are halfway to running the hell out of here to avoid Blake’s wrath. “You won’t wear my ring or take my name. Until that baby bump starts showing, Mouse, dudes need to know you’re taken.”
“Baby bump? Layla, are you pregnant?” My cheeks ache as I smile in response to her face-splitting grin.
She covers her mouth and nods.
“Oh my gosh, that’s amazing!” I wrap my arms around her in a hug. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks, we just found out a couple weeks ago, so it’s not public news yet.”
“Wow, ‘The Snake’ is going to be a dad.” I shake my head and grin.
“Damn right.” Blake slips his arm around her shoulders.
“I better get back to work, but we should hang out soon.”
“I’d love that.” She pulls a pen out from her purse and scribbles something on a napkin. “Here’s my number. Let’s grab coffee or a drink—”
“No drinks, Mouse. Coffee’s out too.” Blake’s eyes move around the bar as if he’s searching for his next victim. Protective much? Jeez.
“Right, well, dinner and water it is.” She twirls a lock of long hair around her finger.
I shove the napkin in my pocket. “Dinner would be fun. I’ll—”
A chord from an electric guitar blares through the speakers. I swing around to face the stage.
Rex’s deep laugh comes through the mic to my ears in a sensual caress. His laugh is something I’ve only heard since I started working here. I’ll never forget the first time.
To this day I don’t know what he was laughing at, but it was the most incredible thing I’d ever heard. I was bartending, and he was standing at the end of the bar with some friends. I stared at him. His head was thrown back, and he had that beautiful smile. I was completely memorized at how carefree he could be.
Jealousy rolls through me when I think of all the people who’ve been in the company of an untroubled Rex. That’s a side of him I’m only starting to know and only from a distance.
“Thanks for coming out tonight.” He’s still chuckling through his words, looking at the guitar player who’s also grinning.
Their good humor is contagious and I smile too.
“We’re going to change things up a bit and start with a new song we’ve been working on. So um . . .”—he plays the beginning of a song I’ve never heard, and the drums and bass join in—“don’t throw shit if I fuck it up.”
The song is fast and loud, getting the crowd riled up. I mouth to Layla and Blake that we can talk later and move to sit in the shadows at the side of the bar.
Rex presses his lips against the mic and starts singing the new song. The sound is dark, haunting, and soul penetrating. He sings about being confined and helpless. The lyrics go on to talk about being kept from the world and unable to get free. The basement. My stomach cramps violently. But it’s the chorus that has me gripping my neck and forcing myself to keep breathing.
There’s so much to say, every time we’re together.
But the fear and the pain seem to go on forever.
Every night that you come, whispered words spoken
You calm my soul, and in the moment, I’m not broken.
Is he singing about me?
Three
Blue is the sky that I now see
A freedom the dark cannot touch.
But the gray is the one that consumes me
And the comfort I miss so much.
Rex
“We’re gonna take off, man.” Blake is standing at the side of the stage. His arm’s slung over Layla so that she’s tucked in close. “Great show.”
We just played our last set and are breaking down our equipment. Some nights we hang out until last call, but not tonight. It’s close to midnight and I’m dead tired.
“Yeah, thanks for coming.” I put down the cords I was wrapping and walk over to them, squatting down to their eye level. “Late night, huh, Layla? Aren’t pregnant chicks supposed to go to bed early?”