Baby Blue - Part 5 of a serialized novella

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Baby Blue – Part 5 of a serial novella

Today I notice the old geezer’s staring at me differently. So, I ask, “What’s up, Doc?”

“I think it’s time to prove to me some of these talents of yours.”

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“Levitate that book on the shelf over there.”

“Um, I’d love to, but I need to know you believe me … without proof.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m telling the truth. Because I need to know that. Call it a personal bent.”

The therapist sighs. “Blue, Blue, Blue,” he says, condescendingly. “Let’s cut the crap, shall we?”

It’s tempting, I must admit, to just toss that freakin’ book across the office. I hate it when people call me a liar.

“Crap?” I ask, innocently. “Are you supposed to talk to patients like that?”

He rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. “Fine. Have it your way. It’s your father’s money that’s being wasted here. I don’t know what your game is, but there are people who need my help. I think you’re a con artist.”

Well, doc, tell me how you really feel. “Perhaps, I should leave then.” I begin to stand when he motions for me to sit back down.

“Please excuse my prior outburst; didn’t have my third cuppa this morning. I’m listening.”

I shrug and settle in for my daily tell-all.

OOO

I wake up alone in her huge, round waterbed, a slowly swirling disco ball reflecting the morning’s sun.

A vague memory of Sophie saying something about having to work pushes through the pain of someone slamming my head with a very huge board. I need painkillers. I force myself out of bed and stumble to the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, I’m come face to face with someone I hardly recognize. My eyes are the color of blood and there’s a sticky substance in my hair. Gah. Not my best look.

After a quick shower and the use of her oh-so-luxurious towels, I wander downstairs to find a note on the table. Through blurred vision, I can barely make out: “Appointment, remember? Make yourself at home. Soph - P.S.: Don’t answer the door or the phone, okay?”

I down hours-old coffee and then lay my head on the solid marble table. Damn, I feel horrible. It’s then that my pants begin to vibrate. Oh right, my cell. I was so zonked I must have slept with it in my pocket. Ah, yes, the expected messages from Dad, Pink, Mom, Josh … dang.

Dad - “Blue, everything will be okay. We’re not angry. Call me. I’ll come get you.”

Sis - “What the hell do you think you’re doing! Come home right this minute!”

Mom - “Baby boy, please, just call your mommy. Love you.”

Josh - “You’re coming back to the island! Are you there? Blue? Dammit!”

Nothing unexpected.

I learn that I’m not dead by flipping on the tube. That’s a relief! Then I see a stock footage photo of Kayla. Suddenly I miss her terribly and wish I could talk to her, remembering that she thinks I’m just a stupid kid. I try to quiet the voice in the back of my mind that’s screaming at me, “But you are a stupid kid!”

A loud knock at the door startles me out of my self pity. A quick peek out the window reveals my father on the porch, looking as though he’s been up all night too.

“I know you’re in there, Blue. Open up. I just want to talk.”

On the verge of obeying Sophie’s note, I nearly walk away, but then I remember that I’m supposed to report back on Dad. How can I do that if we’re not speaking. So, I throw open the door.

He gives me the once-over. “Damn, you look bad.”

“You don’t look so grand, yourself.”

Pushing past me, he says, “Can I have a cup of coffee?”

“Sure. Help yourself,” I say, lurching behind him. “It’s old but still …” I struggle to keep up with him, still being a bit on the drunk and wobbly side this morning.

“So, Blue, quite a night, eh? I leave you out of my sight for five minutes and you commit grand larceny, go on a drinking binge and move in on my old girlfriend.”

“What can I say?” I ask, sitting down before I fall down. “Chip off the old block. And how do you know what I did last night?”

Ignoring my question completely, he says, “Can we call a truce? Everyone is worried sick about you. Just tell Sophie it was fun but that you need to come home. I’ll get Josh to back off on the business of going back to the island.”

“I can’t take that chance, Dad. You don’t know him like I do …”

“Oh, I beg to differ there …” he says, a twinkle in his eye.

“It’s time I get my own life, Dad, nothing personal. I’m really grateful for what you and Sis did for me. But I have my own money from the show. Hopefully, I still have a job.”

“I’ll take care of that for you, Blue. And since we’re on recess for the summer, you’ve got some time to get your act together, if that’s what you choose to do. What’s the deal with Sophie anyway?”

“She took me in when I had no where else to go. We made love right over there,” I say, pointing to the rumpled bear skin rug. Sharp intake of breath. His, not mine. Sticking the knife in feels pretty good.

He gives me his ‘I’m serious’ look. “She’s only using you, Blue. Don’t get mixed up with her. You’ll regret it.”

“Jealous?” I ask, grinning. It hurts to grin. I’m not sure how long I can keep this up.

“The director called me this morning, If you’re planning on staying with the show, you’ll need to join us on the convention circuit this summer. You up for that?”

I nod and wince. “Yeah. Get me the schedule. I’ll do it. Sounds fun.”

After taking a long drink of coffee, he sits back and pretends he’s comfortable with all of this. “Kayla is worried about you, too.”

“Don’t mention her name.”

“She’s sorry she reacted the way she did. She wants to talk to you.”

“Too late. I’m with Sophie, now.”

“You’re with Sophie?” Dad throws his head back and laughs.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“Just be careful, okay? I hate funerals.” And without further explanation, he gets up and walks to the door. Keeping his back to me, he says, “Nothing I can do to change your mind about coming home?”

For a moment my mind screams, “Yes! Please let me come home!” But the word that comes out of my stubborn mouth is “Nope.” He slams the door behind him, gets in his car and drives away.

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath for so long until I release a giant breath of air. With the hardest part over, I form a plan. I need some basics and I’m not about to go home, er, back to Pink and Dad’s to get them.

A nice run to the shops to get some rad clothes sounds pretty good.

Dammit. I don’t have a car. I run out and try to flag my dad down. But, of course, he’s probably halfway back to the house the way he drives. So, I call him.

“Change your mind?” he asks.

“Can you give me a ride into town? I need some … things.” I also figure this will give us some bonding time because if he’s angry with me - and he is - I won’t be able to report anything back to Alexander.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re standing in Stanley’s Lot of Hot Bodies. But there sits a beautiful BMW similar to the one I, um, lost. It’s white, perhaps not quite as cool, but it’s wheels. Remembering my age, I squirm uncomfortably as I whisper to Dad, “Can you buy this for me? I’ll pay you back. Promise.”

“What? I thought you were an adult now.”

“I’m 18 in a week, Dad. Please?”

He grins and nods. I thank him profusely, throwing in a hug for good measure. After all, I still love these people. It’s just that they need to realize I’m all grown up now. I’m the king of my own domain.

“Try not to drive this one off a cliff, okay?” he says sarcastically, handing off the keys in the parking lot.

“I won’t,” I say. I hop in and breathe in the new car smell. Free again! I head downtown to get some sharp threads. Sophie’s a class act and I need to keep up.

Suddenly, I feel much better. Having wheels again really helps. I find a shop tailoring to the well-dressed man and drop a couple thousand on a complete new suit and coordinating shirts.

All told, I drop about $6,000 in the several shops I visit, but I look like a million bucks. Mission accomplished. A grumble from my stomach tells me I need something else.

Seeing a little Italian bistro, I order up some linguine and find a seat in the back, away from prying eyes. Feeling eyes upon me, I look up and stop mid bite, strands of linguine hanging from my lips. There stands Kayla, just staring at me. I’m not sure if she’s going to speak, run away or slap me.

Sucking in the errant noodles, I swallow and try to maintain a neutral expression. It’s up to her make the first move, not me. When she doesn’t say anything, I finally break the silence with, “Would you like to join me? I don’t bite.”

She glances around nervously and sits down. Am I so repulsive to her she’s afraid to be seen with me? Or, more likely, just afraid of me, period.

“How are you?” she asks, nervously fidgeting with the menu.

“Couldn’t be better. How about you?” I deadpan. This is awkward. I wasn’t expecting to see her so soon.

“I’m not sure. I’m so confused.”

“Me, too. But I’m just a kid, so what would I know?” I’m still hurting. I’m not going to make it so easy on her.

“Been shopping?” she asks, gesturing toward the bags beside me on the bench.

“Yeah. I need a new image. You hungry? It’s on me.”

“Oh.” The waitress comes to the table and she orders a soda and a cannoli. “I want to apologize for the way I acted the other night. You saved my life and I kinda treated you like you were a monster. I’m sorry.” She glances up at me sheepishly. Dang, she’s cute.

“Well, I’m over it now. I’ve moved on.”

“Moved on? What does that mean?”

“Just that. I’m living with a girl in north Malibu, a woman, really. She’s very sophisticated and thinks I am as well.” Drive in the knife and twist it. Make her squirm.

“Oh, well then, I’m happy for you.” Her soda and pastry arrive. She doesn’t touch them. “I should let you get on with your new life then.” She stands up to leave. I want to shout that I’m sorry I’m being such a shit but the words won’t come out. And besides, do I want to give her another chance to hurt me?

“Wait!” I blurt out. She turns to look at me and I can see the pain in her eyes. “Please, don’t go yet.”

Once seated, she picks up her soda and takes a sip. “I’m sorry too,” I find myself saying. It’s just that you really hurt me the other night.” Why the hell am I being honest with her?

She fidgets with the napkin and won’t make eye contact. “I know and I so sorry about that. It was all too much to take in. I don’t even know if I’m remembering it right or if I’m imagining some of it.”

“You’re not imagining things, Kayla. I’m sorry it had to come out like that. I really do … care about you.”

“And I … care … about you too,” she says. “Did you get a new car?”

“Um, yeah,” I say, thrown off by the change in topic. “Why?”

“Could you give me a ride? I took at taxi here and I need to get home.”

“Sure. Eat your cannoli and we’ll go,” I say, with a smile.

“Want some?” she asks sweetly, finally looking me in the eyes as she breaks off a piece and holds it out for me. In a move I know I’ll regret later, I gently take her hand and help her feed me the sweet, creamy treat. She blushes. I lick my lips and she blushes more. This is fun. Turn of the screw. Make her realize what she threw away.

“This is nice,” she says, when we reach the car. I hold the door for her like a gentleman. She cocks an eyebrow but doesn’t comment.

“It’s not as cool as my old one, but it’ll do for now,” I reply, starting the car and backing out of the parking space, catching a whiff of her perfume in the process. Brings back memories of the good times we’ve shared. Soon, we’re rolling up Coastal Highway, since she was not in a hurry to return home. I have the radio blaring tunes and the day is gorgeous, but I can tell she’s not relaxed. I wonder if she’s scared I’ll drive off the road or if it’s just being near me.

She knows the song they’re playing and begins to sing along. Pretty soon, I am too. It takes me back to all the fun times we’ve had. But there’s no turning back, so I make my way back to her house.

“Are you coming in for a bit?” she asks, not looking at me, as she exits the car and walks to her door.

I follow her. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes … no … I don’t know.” She stops before opening the door and I’m right behind her. Close enough to kiss her neck if I want to. And I want to.

“Actually,” she says, turning to glance up at me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you? Seeing as how you’ve moved on and all.”

Zap! “Well, it’s not serious. It’s just sex,” I say, having no idea why I even said that. Then, I add, “I miss you.” Okay, it’s only been a couple of days, but still, I really do miss her.

That’s all it takes. She turns and I kiss her, trapping her between the decorative metal of the storm door and the wooden front door. Her heat turns me on. I’m aroused immediately. “Open the door,” I whisper in-between kisses.

She turns the knob and we practically fall into the house. We don’t even make it upstairs. I take her on the couch in the living room. This complicates matters … tremendously. I think I need to set some ground rules.

We’re on the floor now - not sure when that happened - just lying there with her practically lying on top of me, the sun dapples coming through the window making little marks on her naked back. Just like old times. “KayKay,” I say softly. “I have to go.”

“Now?” she asks, and begins making little swirling motions with her fingers on my chest.

I take her hand to stop her and gently move her off of me. “I’m sorry,” I say, “I just can’t pick up where we left off.”

Her eyes flash angrily as she stands and pulls her sundress back on. “You might have told me that before we had sex.” Clenching her fists, she turns her back on me and walks toward the kitchen.

I pull my clothes on and head for the door. “I’ll call you,” I yell back to her, not so sure I will. I get back in the car and drive to my Dad’s house. I need the toiletries that were in the bag I left in the pink pimple. I can’t put off seeing my sister forever.

Even though I still have my key, I ring the bell. Blue doesn’t live here anymore. Pink opens the door, one of the twins on her hip. “What do you want?” she asks. Cold. The hurt is evident in her tone.

“I want my ditty bag,” I say. “Can I come in?” She hesitates and, for a long second, I’m not sure she’s going to let me in. “I’m your baby brother, Sis, come on.” Frowning, she opens the door.

I slip inside and tickle my niece. She giggles sweetly. “Where’s Dad?” I ask as I run upstairs to my room. I don’t see the bag anywhere. “Where’s my bag?” I yell back down to Aubrey.

“I guess it’s still in my car.”

Running back downstairs, I say, “I didn’t hurt your car, Sis. I just needed to get away. You were going to send me back to straight-laced Josh and I didn’t want to go.”

Her expression softens as she says, “We’re just worried about you, that’s all. Please come home. I promise we’ll lighten up on you.”

“I can’t, Sis,” I say, heading for the garage to look for my bag, which has my recreational stash in it. Luckily, for me, the cops didn’t think to look in there when they took the car.

Pink turns to put Twin Number 1 into the swing. “We named them by the way.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, opening the garage door. She follows me out. “What did you go with?”

Leaning in the doorway, she replies, “Your niece is named after Grandmo and Mom, Morgan Lee, and your nephew is named after Daddy and you, Turner Blue.”

Suddenly, I feel like a complete heel and feel tears welling up. They named their kid after me? I grab the bag from under the back seat and slam the door. I unexpectedly find myself hugging my sister. She’s crying into my t-shirt. “I’m so sorry, Blue. I never meant to hurt you. I believed you when you said the accident wasn’t your fault. I read your aura. I’m not sure why I acted like I didn’t.”

“It’s okay, Sis. I forgive you. Turner Blue, eh? Nice ring to it.” She wipes her eyes and laughs. “It was Dimmy’s idea, actually. But I like it.”

“Come on, Sis, you’re going to make me cry.” Too late. That ship has sailed.

“So you’ll come home now? To your family?” Aubrey looks up at me with her pretty green eyes.

“I can’t right now. I’m living with a … friend.”

“Sophie is not a friend, Blue.” Oh crap, Dad must have told her.

“She was there when I needed one. Listen, Sis, I really have to go.”

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” she says, waving as I run out to my own car. Phew! What a morning. I think I need a nap.