Chapter 14
Nix
L eaving her keeps getting harder and harder, almost as hard as the cock that's currently straining in my pants.
I'm tempted to put the divider up and manage this very uncomfortable problem, but I resist. Jerking off to thoughts of her in the back seat of a car isn’t really my style.
She deserves a little more respect than that, no matter how good it would be to feel that sweet release.
It's well into the afternoon, which means there might be more people than I'd like posted in front of the apartment building when I get back.
My frequent comings and goings have become a bit of a topic over the last month, with several articles now published.
Do they not have anything more interesting to write about?
I need to start being more careful. I don't want anyone bombarding Alara until I find some sort of security to keep her safe.
And before I do that, I want to have a conversation with her about where she sees the two of us moving forward.
We're not officially together, but in my mind, we are, even if I’ve never said ‘Will you be exclusive with me?’
This whole dating thing is completely new territory.
I've never wanted to willingly let someone see all of me, but with her, I do, and that means seeing both the good and the bad.
A phantom pain from the scars on my back makes me wince.
Even all these years later, sometimes it still feels like the day they marked my skin.
Every single member of Nowhere Forever has their baggage.
I'm no exception. When she asked me about the scars on my arms, I didn't know what to say. How do you just bring up a conversation about how you were whipped repeatedly as a child? It goes beyond being abused. It was done by someone who was supposed to be a caregiver, making it that much worse. Most people would understand why I don’t prefer to talk about my history.
I shouldn't be here. My scars are a reminder of that every single day, months of abuse and neglect that all led to the final whipping, where I was left alone on the basement floor to bleed out. I try to shake away the thoughts, but it's all I can think about now.
I didn’t understand why I never had a relationship with my biological grandparents when I was young.
Most of the other children my age were going to their grandmas for sleepovers and talking about how they gave them candy and goodies, but I spent years of my life knowing nothing about them.
I was simply told they were bad people, nothing more.
My biological parents were amazing until they died in a car accident when I was eight.
I had no siblings, aunts, or uncles to care for me, so when I was told I was being sent to live with my grandparents, a spark of hope bloomed within me.
My parents were dead, but there was a chance that I could still be part of a family.
I thought it was all going to be okay. It would be hard, but I would still have love and support around me. I was wrong.
Another phantom pain shoots down my arm.
The first time they hurt me messed with my mind more than any other because it destroyed every one of those hopeful thoughts.
I remember everything. It was a month after my parents died. I was lying in bed, unable to sleep even though my bedtime was an hour before. My grandparents were downstairs watching television and told me I had to stay in my room, but I didn’t want to be alone.
I had gone down to them a few times before when I was feeling upset with no issue. They would simply tell me things would be okay and give me a glass of water to calm me down before sending me back to bed. This ended differently, though. There was no comfort.
I had no reason to believe it would be any different when my little legs took the steps one at a time that night to the bottom of the stairs.
My grandmother was in her chair, knitting, and my grandfather was intently watching whatever show was on.
When my grandfather finally realized I was standing there, his face twisted up in a scowl.
He went on about how they had been patient, but it was time for me to start learning that rules were meant to be followed .
He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me down the second set of stairs to the finished basement. This wasn’t a part of the house I was allowed to go into before, so when I glanced around, I was horrified.
Part of the main room was set up with an altar that had a wooden statue of Jesus hanging on the cross.
There were bench seats in front of the statue, similar to those in a church, but we didn’t sit on them.
Instead, he dragged me into a side room, one that I became way too familiar with in the time that I lived with them.
Along the walls were different-sized whips and paddles with a long bench in the center. It was a place for penance.
I didn’t know to be afraid, or what was to come, but my whole outlook changed that night.
Something broke in me. I lost a piece of myself, and the hope I once carried was replaced by fear.
If I didn’t follow the rules, I would be disciplined.
It’s a mindset I’ve carried into adulthood.
If I wasn’t controlled and perfect, it would all be taken away.
Alara is the first real hope I’ve felt since I first started playing the drums. Maybe that’s why I’ve grown so obsessed over our budding relationship.
I tend to go all in when I find something, or in this case, someone, I like.
The car comes to a stop in front of the apartment building, and just as I suspected, there are a few cameras waiting for their photo opportunity. I nod politely, pushing my way through them, deciding today isn’t the kind of day when I stop and pose.
The first thing I do when I get back inside our little piece of sanctuary is make sure Dave is fed.
Ender claims he takes care of him, but I still like to make a point to check in every now and then.
I enjoy seeing the little guy. When I sneak into his room and walk up to Dave’s cage, I see that the little orange ball of fluff is sleeping peacefully with his body half buried in a bed of fresh wood shavings.
Both the food and water are full, so nothing to take care of here. I wonder where Ender ran off to.
A realization hits. I told Lane I would talk to River today. Shit. It’s just going to have to wait until after. I need to decompress after being filled with so many thoughts of my past. God. I feel like I'm turning into Ender with how easily I'm letting my emotions get the best of me.
The vibration from my phone catches my attention just as I flop down in bed.
My Sparrow: Is it bad that I wish we were still in that parking lot?
This girl knows exactly how to bring a smile to my face, even if she doesn’t realize she’s doing it.
Me: I will drive back there right now. Don't tempt me.
My Sparrow: lol I have to work. You'd be there alone.
Me: It’s definitely not the same without you.
My Sparrow: You could get yourself another one of those glittery drinks.
My Sparrow: That was surprisingly cool. I might take my bestie there one of these days.
Me: Can I come?
My Sparrow: You're not ready to meet Rayne, yet. She comes on a bit strong.
Me: I'm used to strong personalities. This band has a whole bunch of them.
I wonder what I should do for our next date.
The glitter drinks turned out to be such a good idea, I’m not sure I’ll be able to top it.
Maybe it should be something with music.
The two of us could go see a show somewhere.
No. That might end up with cameras in her face.
I could always watch her sing again. That’s not technically a date, though.
That's when it hits me. Roscoe owes me a favor.
I dial the number quickly while waiting for her next text back. With any luck, he will have some space for this weekend. I know he tries to leave at least one spot open for last-minute surprises. She works on Saturday nights, but they could have something for Friday.
"Nix, long time no talk," Roscoe says when he answers his phone.
"Hey. I'm cashing in on that favor you owe me."
"Not wasting any time, I see. That's one of the things I like about you. How can I help you?"
Roscoe is one of my adopted father's old friends. He was around a lot when I was growing up. I’ve been told they’ve been friends for nearly forty years. I hope one day I have friendships that last that long.
"Do you have any openings for Friday night?"
Roscoe owns a place downtown called Vector's Lounge. It's where all the bigwigs of the music industry go to hopefully find their next rising star. It's where Nowhere Forever was discovered.
"Ah, come on, man. You know I book up months in advance." He sounds stressed, like there's no way to make it happen.
"I know you save spots. She's good, has the voice of an angel."
He takes a moment before finally sighing. "Fine. We can squeeze her in. What's her name?"
"Alara Grey." I grin, knowing this could be an opportunity to change her life.
"Has she performed before? That sounds familiar. ”
“Not anywhere like your place that I’m aware of.” Admittedly, I don’t know much about where she’s performed. Maybe I should have asked her.
“Tell her she’s in. And next time you talk to your dad, tell him he needs to call me.” Roscoe mutters something under his breath that I can't quite make out, but I don't care.
"Thank you, sir! I’ll let my dad know you miss him."
"Nix, no more favors. This is the last one," he says, and I nod even though he can't see me.
"I appreciate it more than you know. I'll be there Friday in the crowd to watch her, too. I'll buy you a drink."
He laughs. "You're going to buy me a drink at my own place. Well, kid, I appreciate the sentiment, but I can't drink these days. It messes with my blood pressure meds. The doc had a fit last time I went in."
"Then I'll at least track you down so I can say hello."
"Sounds good." He hangs up before giving me a chance to respond.
This is perfect. My little sparrow can spread her wings and fly. I'll be right there should she need someone to keep her from falling.
Me: Don't make plans for Friday night. I want to take you somewhere.
My Sparrow: What if I told you I have to work?
Fuck. I should have checked with her. If I cashed in my favor for no reason, Roscoe will be pissed.
My Sparrow: I'm kidding. I'm all yours. What time?
Me: Eight pm
My Sparrow: Do I get to know what we're doing? I'll need to figure out what to wear.
Me: Just wear what you always do. You look beautiful in anything.
My Sparrow: Fine. It’s a date.
Me: Our third date.
Even if nothing comes from her time on stage, she will be able to say that she got to sing at Vector's Lounge. It's something many up-and-coming musicians aspire to. I toss the phone to the side, grinning from ear to ear, knowing I’m helping my girl make all of her dreams come true. I can’t wait to see more people become entranced by her siren-like voice.