Chapter 4 #2
We didn’t talk much during the drive, probably because we were both a little anxious.
Not only was this new territory, but we didn’t know how Zack would react.
When he was lucid, it often seemed that he was willing to admit he had problems—but, more and more, his rock star persona would take over, driving him to believe drinking was the only way he could cope.
When we got to Zack’s mother’s house and approached the front door, I felt a sense of dread.
The last time I’d been here was when Zack and I were a couple—and, boy, did I have memories.
My heart and gut ached for that man like they hadn’t in a while, and I found myself gripping Braden’s hand too tightly in response.
“I’m nervous too…but this is the right thing.”
I felt grateful that he’d misinterpreted my visceral response.
At the door, Braden knocked—but only the screen door was closed, and Zack’s mom said, “Come on in.” Soon we were in the kitchen, finding that Zack’s grandpa and Cy were out back grilling steaks.
Braden asked, “Where’s Zack?”
“He had an appointment with his tattoo artist a few hours ago, but he should be back soon.”
Knowing how Zack could get distracted with the idea of a party after a little pain, I wondered if Zack didn’t have plans to come immediately home and thought we should doublecheck with him—and Braden was thinking exactly what I was. “Should we make sure he’s coming here afterward?”
“Oh, he is. I told him I was making steak and potatoes. He’ll be here.”
Relief washed over me like a gentle breeze. “Can we help with anything?”
Zack’s mom was tossing a green salad but paused. “Um…you can both set the dining room table—and put out butter and salad dressings.”
Silently, Braden and I did just that. Fortunately, both of us had spent so much time there over the past few years that we knew where everything was. After a bit, Cy came into the kitchen and, although we didn’t hear what he said, we could tell by Lacey’s tone of voice that something had happened.
Immediately, I suspected that Cy must have gotten a text from Zack. Maybe he’d driven by, seen our cars, and knew what was up. Braden and I exchanged glances and headed to the kitchen—but Cy and Lacey were already heading out back.
Of course, I started marching toward the back door, but Braden touched my arm. “Maybe we should wait.”
It turned out to be good advice because, seconds later, Cy and Lacey—on both sides of Zack’s grandpa—were helping him through the door. Braden and I backed out of the way as my mind raced, wondering what had happened. “Can you make it to the living room, dad?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Just get me to the dining room and let me rest for a minute.”
“Dani, can you pull out a chair, please?”
“On it.” I practically raced to the dining room and pulled a chair away from the table, turning it slightly to make it easier to sit down.
Meanwhile, Lacey said, “Braden, please get a glass of water.”
Soon, we were all huddled around the table, eyes glued on Zack’s grandpa, a man I’d only ever met a few times—but most recently during the Christmas holidays.
He had short gray hair, a full head that would make most men jealous, steely brown eyes that seemed as sharp as ever, and a big belly hidden fairly well under denim overalls.
What I liked most about his grandpa was how he seemed mean and grumpy when you looked at him, but he was actually the sweetest, kindest man—and now I was concerned for him.
“I’m fine, kiddo,” he said to his daughter. “Stop fussing over me. And, Cy, you better get those steaks off the grill now or they’ll be burned and tough.”
Without a word, Cy hustled toward the back of the house.
“I’ll stop fussing when you tell me exactly what happened.”
He let out a long sigh, his way of telling her he wasn’t happy with the proceedings. Still, he obliged. “I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my chest, and I lost my breath. Then I got a little dizzy. But I’m fine now.” When Lacey narrowed her eyes, he said again, “I’m fine.”
“Promise me you’ll go to the doctor.”
He acted like he was going to argue—but he said, “If we can drop it now, I will. I’ll make an appointment Monday.”
“Promise?”
“I just told you I would.”
Standing up straight, she smoothed the front of her dark blue shirt. “Okay. But no more exertion today.”
“That wasn’t exerting.”
“Still.” She pursed her lips, cocking her head. “I think that’s Zack’s car outside. Braden, would you please get the sour cream out of the fridge and Dani, would you bring in the salad?”
While Braden and I were in the kitchen, Cy passed us with a platter full of steaks. Before we left, Braden shot me a worried expression—but I didn’t know if it was because of Zack’s grandpa or Zack himself. It could have been both, because I was a bundle of nerves due to it all.
“Mom,” Zack said as we entered the dining room, “you didn’t tell me everyone was going to be here.”
“I told you we were having a birthday dinner.”
“Yeah, that’s cool.” But there was something in his eyes that said it wasn’t.
But his mother was completely oblivious to it—or she didn’t care. “Well…let us see it.”
I’d already noticed the knuckle tattoos—on his right hand, each knuckle had a letter and together they spelled RIOT.
He could have also had them tattoo OUAR, as it was an abbreviation I’d already seen fans using online.
As I stared at his hand, I pictured it moving down my bare belly where it had touched me dozens of times…
and I swallowed, trying to bring myself back to reality.
I was with Braden now.
Why did I have to keep reminding myself?
On his left hand, Zack had had tattooed the letters A, K, Q, and J, and I figured it was due to our obsession with playing cards on the road. I wouldn’t learn until much later that those letters had a much deeper meaning.
But apparently that wasn’t the work his mother was referring to, because Zack instead began unbuttoning the red flannel shirt.
After Zack pulled it apart, we tried to see the design still covered with what looked like plastic wrap over red, angry flesh.
It broke my heart to see how Zack’s ribs looked so visible underneath his skin, and I forced my eyes upward again.
In a black Gothic script font, the words Once Upon A Riot extended above his pecs from shoulder to shoulder—and in the very middle was an upside down heart outline.
Zack said, “It’s not done yet. We need to color the heart and fill in the blood drips. ”
Zack’s grandpa was feeling much better. “I don’t know why you kids do that shit to yourselves.”
“It’s art, gramps.”
The older man simply shook his head. Lacey said, “Let’s eat before everything gets cold. Um—Braden and Dani, could you bring in the pitchers of iced tea and lemonade from the fridge? Cy, why don’t you put a steak on everyone’s plate?”
While Braden and I obeyed orders, she pulled a big bowl out of the oven with mitts. Inside were half a dozen baked potatoes wrapped in foil. All the food smelled and looked good, but I had no appetite, knowing what was coming.
After we were seated and we were just starting to dig in, Zack said, “You guys should think about getting some ink too. We won’t look like little kids up there anymore.”
Zack’s grandpa said, “You need to eat more, kiddo. That’ll go a long way to making you look more like a grownup.”
Zack laughed, taking his grandfather’s words lightly. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”
It did my heart good to see it—and Braden’s too. When he squeezed my knee under the table, I glanced at him and he gave me a soft smile. I couldn’t help but smile back, even though I knew the shit that was likely coming later.
When I shifted my eyes back to the center of the table, I glanced up at Zack—and found him all but boring his eyes through me.
What the hell?
My eyes quizzed him back but then I focused on my plate. Was it possible that he’d been so drunk during the last part of the tour that he’d forgotten about Braden and me? Or had he thought it had been a one-time thing—that maybe I was just getting revenge and would come running right back to him?
If so, he had no right. But, more than that, we needed him sober for whatever lay ahead. For the rest of the meal, I didn’t look up again—but I just picked at my food. It all tasted good, but I had no appetite.
When we cleared out plates and Zack’s mother brought out cake and ice cream, I started wondering if she was going to blow off what we’d planned to do afterward.
When Zack declared he was stuffed and pushed his plate away, he said, “This has been fun but I gotta run.” I figured that was it. We’d missed our chance.
But his mother stayed true to her word. “Not so fast, Zachary.”
Shivers charged down my spine. I’d never heard her voice sound so commanding and, all of a sudden, I understood how she could be good at her job in corrections.
There was an air of authority in her tone, one a person wouldn’t dare counter without expecting consequences.
It was a bit shocking, though, because I’d only ever seen her be indulgent with Zack. This was a new side to her.
“What the hell, mom?”
Pushing her plate aside much like Zack had seconds earlier, she placed her hands on the table, folded and looking serene—but her expression said business. “We need to talk. It’s been brought to my attention that you might be struggling with a problem.”
Although his words were full of sass, his tone communicated that he felt like he might be on shaky ground. “My only problem is whatever the hell’s going on here right now.”
“Listen to your mother” came his grandpa’s voice from the other side of the table.
Again, this was a first—I’d never heard his grandfather actually sounding gruff about anything of import.
And, although the atmosphere was tense, my internals relaxed ever so slightly, knowing that we were all united in our desires to stop Zack from killing himself.