Blessed Tragedy Page 2

  "We're going to see Tony as soon as we get home," I sighed removing my lip ring. The ear holes would survive a few days without the small hoops that normally lined them from lobe to cartilage but my lip ring would be closed by nightfall and I'd catch just as much crap for a retainer as the actual jewelry. Tony was the only person I trusted to put holes in my body.

  Colton nodded, "We can jump on the bike as soon as the bus comes to a stop." Someday, Colton was going to make some woman very happy. If circumstances were different, I'd give anything to be that woman; but I wasn't going to jeopardize everything we'd worked for to take that chance.

  Twisting the cap onto my sheer pink lip gloss, I looked in the mirror and brought my eyes to Colton's. "How do I look?" He didn't say anything for what felt like hours. I was starting to regret asking when a wide smile broke out on his face.

  He blinked a few times before speaking. "Wow…I don't think you have to worry about anyone recognizing you." He leaned across the table to play with my high ponytail, "That's really cute. I can imagine that bouncing around while you do your little cheerleader routine."

  "Shut it," I snapped. He was having too much fun and I knew more jabs were soon to follow. "I swear, I'll kneecap your ass if you say another word."

  I wasn't kidding and he knew it. "Come here," he said patting the seat next to him. I slid in next to Colton and rested my head on his shoulder.

  "You'll be fine," he whispered kissing the top of my head. "If you need anything, call me. The only time I won't have my phone right by me is when we're on stage." Colton and Jon had already been figuring out how to rearrange the songs so my vocals would fit their range. Part of me wished I could be there. It would be one of the few times Colton sang more than harmony and the sound of his voice had been a huge comfort to me over the past five years.

  "I know," I sighed. The bus started to slow and I took one last look in the mirror. While not something I would normally wear, I had to admit the soft color palette the woman at the MAC counter selected for me looked good. I was Rock Star Barbie on her day off. Looking at myself in the mirror, I didn't even feel the urge to vomit, which I fully expected to feel.

  When the bus pulled into the truck stop parking lot, Colton followed me to the car my dad had dropped off for me last night, leaving the keys under the seat. Another sure sign I was stepping into a different world than the one I'd grown used to. "I guess this is it," I said sadly. I felt like an awful daughter because I was more upset about watching the guys pull away from me than I was about the next few days at home burying my mom.

  Colton wrapped his arms around me holding me tight for a minute. "I mean it, Maddie…call me." He glanced over his shoulder blowing me a kiss as he boarded the bus and the door closed behind him.

  I fought tears as I watched my life turning back onto the Interstate. Surrounded by the guys, I was able to hold everything together. Standing alone in the abandoned truck stop, I crumbled.

  Chapter Two

  I've become so accustomed to being in big cities or driving down a four-lane highway that the streets of Lexington felt empty. It was the first time I fully understood what was meant by a 'sleeper community'. It felt like no one was left in town once they left for work in the morning.

  I pulled my dad's Mazda into the local gas station to pick up a peace offering. While it was possible everyone would be up and fed by the time I got there, I knew donuts are always a welcome treat.

  Shifting the car into park, I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone I knew was pulling into the parking lot. Most places, I would be looking for paparazzo with their cameras, but not here. Even if I wasn't in the middle of nowhere, someone would have to take a long, hard look to realize that I'm Rain Maxwell, singer and guitarist for Blessed Tragedy, not just another twenty-something driving through town. I guess there is something to be said for my bubble gum pink sweater, jeans and ankle boots.

  My hands were cold and clammy as I shifted the car into park in the driveway of my childhood home. Until that moment, I knew why I was coming home but there was still a disconnect. My chest tightened as I realized that my mom wouldn't be waiting for me on the other side of the door. Not today, not ever again.

  The only people I had relied on over the past five years were sound asleep on a bus cruising down the highway. They were more of a family to me than most of the people standing on the other side of the red front door.

  Stalling for more time, I pulled out my iPhone. I debated calling Colton like he'd told me too but I didn't want to risk waking him. It was a flimsy excuse since he'd likely be up for the day now that he was pulled out of bed; the truth was I wasn't sure I could hold myself together if I heard his voice, knowing I'd told him to leave. Instead, I sent him a text.

  Wish me luck, I'm going in. Kick ass tonight!

  My cell phone vibrated against my thigh as I reached to collect my purse and the donuts.

  No luck needed. You got this. Remember we're here for you if you need us. When do we not kick ass?

  If it wouldn't be rude, disrespectful and likely to make my life even more of a living hell, I could have sat in the car all morning talking to Colton. It seemed crazy that I'd barely been away from him and the other guys for an hour and I felt like I was missing a part of myself.

  We'll see. I know you are. And remember, I'm not there tonight. Have you thought about the fact that I might be why you kick ass? Really, I'm going now.

  I turned off my phone, eliminating the temptation to wait for his response. As I opened the door, the curtains in the living room window fell back into place, letting me know there was no hope of slinking into the house unnoticed.

  My dad appeared in the open doorway. "Welcome home, Maddie," he said flatly. I balanced the donuts in one outstretched hand to prevent them from being crushed as Dad pulled me close to him. I felt the bitterness inside of me easing as I breathed in the woodsy cologne that would always remind me of him. It pained me when I looked up to his face, noticing his deep blue eyes were clouded and lifeless. If you had asked me to describe one thing that was uniquely my father, it would have been the ever-present sparkle in his eyes.

  The donuts were grabbed by a brother who couldn't be bothered to acknowledge whose hand he'd pulled them from. "You're welcome," I shouted around Dad.

  "Sorry I didn't get here sooner," I whispered. "Why didn't you call me?"

  Dad pulled me into the house, closing the door behind us. Before he could say anything in response, I heard my oldest brother, Matt, lumbering down the stairs.

  "Well, well," he sneered, "the big shot celebrity deigns us with an appearance." I always feel like I'm under a microscope with the way he scrutinizes every inch of my appearance. "You clean up pretty good.” His compliment caught me off-guard; it sounded sincere, even if his voice still held an undertone of bitterness.

  "Thanks, Matt," I replied. My gaze shifted between him and my father. I wanted an answer to my question. "Dad, why didn't you guys call me to tell me how bad she was?"

  Mark, the youngest of my three brothers snuck out the front door mumbling something about grabbing my suitcase. Judging by the powdered sugar on his cheek, the donut caper mystery had been solved.

  Dad and Matt appeared to be having a non-verbal conversation in front of me involving a lot of furrowed brows, shaking heads and glances my way. They were trying to figure out how to avoid telling me something. What? Matt motioned to the kitchen and Dad disappeared down the hall.

  With Dad safely out of earshot, Matt turned to me, standing up straighter with his shoulders back in a typical move to intimidate me. "Drop it, Maddie," he scolded me. This is nothing new. Matt is ten years older than me and he's always acted more like a disciplinarian than a sibling.

  I glared at him. "Why should I? No one bothered to call me and tell me what was going on and then you call me like I'm the bitch for not getting here in time." I tried to hold it together for my dad's sake but I really wanted to scream at Matt for making me feel like crap about this. He
didn't realize that it would be next to impossible to make me feel worse than I already did.

  Matt's fingers dug into my upper arms. "Maddie, do you really think Dad needs your shit right now? For once in your life, stop thinking about yourself and think about him." I wanted to slap my brother for the implication that I only thought about myself but I knew there was a nugget of truth in his words.

  Like a petulant child, I twisted myself from his grasp and ran up the stairs to my old bedroom. There was no way in hell Matt would see how his low opinion of me hurt. How could he think I wouldn't have come home if I knew my mom was dying? Are there really people out there who are so self-centered they wouldn't drop everything if it meant they got the chance to say goodbye?

  Other than a layer of dust, everything in my bedroom was as it had been the day I graduated. I expected to want to vomit upon seeing the overdose of every shade of pink imaginable but it was also comforting. My mom and I had created this space together. For as much as she'd complained about them, my mom didn't even bother to take down the posters of various teen heartthrobs that I insisted on putting up in an attempt to cover the cotton candy pink walls.

  Flopping onto the full-size canopy bed, I reached for my phone. At some point I would have to face my dad and brothers again, but for now I was more than content to hole up in my room texting Colton.

  Shoot me now.

  There was a knock on the door. I debated trying to lay still in hopes whoever it was would go away but I knew that wouldn't work. If anything, it would just encourage my brothers to be annoying pricks. "Hang on," I called out, dragging my aching, exhausted body from the mattress.

  "It's just me, Mads," my brother Mark replied. If I was going to have an ally while I was home, it would be him. We were always close growing up; partly because we were only sixteen months apart and partly because he came close to understanding me. It didn't mean he stuck up for me, but he understood how I felt.

  We were the two square pegs in our little family, both living our own lies. The difference between us is that I refused to hide my authentic self once I was liberated. When that caused problems at home, I simply stayed away. In the past year, I tried making an effort to stay in contact but I couldn't imagine a time when things wouldn't feel forced with my family.

  Mark took a different road. He still visited regularly, made it home for every holiday and never shared his secret. I know the truth. I think I've always known on some level. The rest of the family would know too, if they weren't so content to bury their heads in the sand. In some ways, I wonder if me being so set on my ambitions has made it easier for Mark to maintain his other life. If so, I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.

  The door was barely open when Mark wrapped his arms around me leading me towards the bed. "You can't hide up here all week, you know," Mark scolded as he started picking at non-existent lint on my sweater. "Eventually, you'll have to talk to them."

  He patted the mattress for me to sit next to him. “Don't listen to him. You know it's how he is and it's not going to change,” he stated. “It's been a rough week. If I'd known they hadn't called you, you know I would have.”

  When I didn't respond, Mark cupped my face in his hands forcing me to look at him. “You know that, right?”

  “I know,” I sobbed. “But why didn't they call me? I'm honestly not sure there's anything they can say that will change how I'm feeling right now. It might be the first time I've truly hated anyone.”

  It was the truth. I hated Matt. I hated him for not calling me. I hated him for insinuating that it was my fault I didn't get here in time. I hate him for being a judgmental ass who can't accept me for who I am. I hated him for making me hate myself for not somehow knowing and being here despite the lack of communication.

  “I'm gonna head back down,” Mark said, “You going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, I'll be fine. I think I'm going to call Colton to see where they're at. It feels weird being here while they're on the road,” I admitted. It was worse than weird; it felt like this was confirmation that they could go on without me. It was the first time since I'd joined the band that I doubted my ability.

  “Hey, you know they're missing the hell out of you. Tonight's show will probably suck ass because you're not there to keep it together,” Mark laughed. “And why didn't you bring those sexy beasts home with you?”

  My eyes got wide. “You have met them, right? Someone wouldn't come out of it alive if I put them in the same room with Matt and Mike. Plus, I couldn't ask them to cancel. We're moving our way up the lineup, canceling shows would be career suicide.”

  Mark and I laughed together as we choreographed the potential blood bath that would ensue if one of our older brothers said the wrong thing to my adopted brothers. All were fiercely protective of me in different ways and thought they knew what was best for me.

  “Okay baby girl. I'm going to head down. You tell Colton I'm still holding out hope for him.” He slid through the door just in time to miss the Hello Kitty pillow I whipped in his direction.

  Guess you're sleeping. Call me when you get up. Mark sends his love.

  I set the alarm on my phone and laid down to catch up on some of the sleep I lost on the bus. As typical for my luck, the phone chimed as soon as I started to drift off.

  Reception's spotty right now. Will call as soon as I have more bars. How are you holding up? The bed's empty without you. Tell Mark where he can stick his love. On second thought, don't.

  I laughed at the last statement. It was no secret that Mark found Colton drool-worthy and Colt was good about taking it in stride. I couldn't blame my brother for his little crush; there was something hypnotic about Colton's icy blue eyes. It's the same thing that has him fighting his way through a flock of groupies after every concert.

  I hate it here. Haven't seen Mike yet, Matt's an ass like always. Dad's holding up the best he can. Miss you already.

  Shortly after noon, I decided it was time to face reality. I would have much rather stayed holed up in the Pepto-palace but I needed to be there for my dad, even if that meant putting up with Matt's digs for the next few days. I took one last look in the mirror hanging over my white dresser and dragged myself to join the men of the family.

  “Hey Moo,” Dad called out as soon as he heard me coming down the stairs. The conversation the four of them were having ceased as soon as I walked into the living room.

  Mike looked at me with the same critical eye I had received from Matt. I don't think they expected me to put in the effort to tone down my typical style. Knowing that I had gone to such lengths nearly rendered them speechless.

  “Lookin' good, Maddie-Moo,” Mike said as he turned back to the papers in front of him. “Nice you could make it.”

  “Gee, thanks Mikey,” I said sarcastically. It's not that I didn't believe the words. I'm confident enough in myself to know I look good. I just hate that I had to turn myself into some pop-star wannabe to win their approval.

  Dad looked from me to Mike to Matt and back again. “Guys, I need you to cut your sister some slack. She's here now and that's all that matters.” I felt tears welling up behind my eyes knowing that my dad was sticking up for me. I instantly hated myself that I'd been so unwilling to make the exact changes to my outward appearance that I had this morning for so long. It would have saved everyone at least some of the heartache.

  “Thanks Daddy,” I whispered giving him a hug before curling into one end of the loveseat.

  This time, the non-verbal conversation included my two oldest brothers and my dad. I hated it when they did this even though it had been going on most of my life. It's like the Neumann men had their own secret language I wasn't privy to.

  Finally, Matt cleared his throat. “Maddie, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?”

  Shit. The last thing I wanted to do was listen to another one of my brother's lectures about how selfish I am and how I only bring my family pain. But I couldn't exactly refuse since the other three men in my fam
ily were all watching cautiously.

  “Sure,” I said crossing my arms in front of me as I followed him through the house. Deep breaths, you can do this. Remember that you're here for mom.

  Matt ushered me to into a chair around the antique oak dining table that had been in the breakfast nook since we were kids. If I closed my eyes, I could almost smell the oatmeal cookies mom used to bake every weekend while I sat in the nook coloring.

  When Matt sat across from me, he had the same look on his face that he used to get when he'd gotten a lecture from Dad and he needed to make things right. This wasn't Matt the disciplinarian prick sitting in front of me; it was my big brother who still wasn't so big he could escape dad's wrath.

  “I need to apologize to you.” The way he was chewing his lip and avoiding eye contact told me he had, in fact, received one of dad's infamous lectures.

  “Need to or want to, Matthew?” I asked. No way in hell was I going to make this easy on him. If he was only doing this because dad told him he was supposed to, he could take his empty words and go to hell.

  “I want to,” he admitted. I could only imagine how bitter those words tasted as they crossed his lips. When it came to admitting he was wrong Matt was my mentor in stubbornness. “I shouldn't have come at you the way I did this morning. We're just all really stressed and I knew you were going to be pissed that we didn't call. I figured that if I came at you first, you wouldn't go after dad. And I didn't want you going after him because it's not his fault either.”

  I could count on one hand the number of apologies I had ever received from Matt. I could remember every one of them and why it was earned. This was, by far, the most he'd ever said when trying to make things right.