7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Mellow bud and shiny things

Sweat dripped into Aaron's eyes, making them sting, but he didn't need to see the notes he'd made. They'd gone from the intro into a respectable melody they could build off of, and now Kelly had several lines of lyrics for them to tweak. Closing his eyes, he slipped into a mellow zone of long rifts and desperate, pleading chords.

A second guitar answered his, and his lips curved into a small smile as he got lost in the harmony, the two going back and forth like their instruments were having a conversation. Sound rose and fell in waves, echoing, amplifying the attitude both infused into their playing. The inflection on certain notes was like an expletive spat at an advancing opponent. A challenge answered with intensity and hate.

"Shit, Ethan, that riff is fuckin' fire," Aaron declared as the last note faded away. His fingers were sore, and his shoulder ached when he reached out to fist bump Ethan, only to realize it wasn't Ethan he was playing with.

A mix of embarrassment and disappointment washed over him as he let his hand drop to rest back on his guitar. "Sorry."

"No harm done," Micah replied, his soft accent driving home the fact that he wasn't Ethan.

Bitterness and disappointment churned like bile in the pit of Aaron stomach, and he felt a momentary pang of shame at having fallen so into rhythm with a stranger that he'd forgotten his long-time bandmate wasn't there. It felt like a betrayal of that friendship and everything they'd created together.

Instead of responding, he simply nodded Micah's way, grateful that there was nothing more to say, as he wasn't sure if he could manage it. Not when he felt like he was spitting on everything the band had ever been. Nothing about that sat right with him.

"Maybe it's time for a break," Kelly muttered with his head still bent over the paper he was scribbling on. "It might give me a chance to organize some of this into something legible rather than a bunch of sentences with arrows pointing in the general direction of where they should be."

Aaron couldn't see his face, but from the tone of his voice and how focused he was on the notepad in front of him, Aaron doubted he was experiencing the same turmoil Aaron was. Of course, he'd had two weeks' worth of practice sessions to get over whatever feelings he might have been wrestling with, while Aaron was getting hit with everything all at once, which was playing havoc with his emotions now that the song was over. Best to get a handle on them before he was forced into an interaction that didn't involve the way his fingers moved over the strings.

"Can I borrow your balcony," Aaron asked as he set his guitar on its stand. Getting up was a different story, he staggered, then arched his back, feeling the vertebrae crackle and pop all the way down his spine.

"No, it needs to stay right where it is, but you can go use it to smoke up, since I know that's what you plan to do."

"Hardy, har, har," Aaron grumbled, but he couldn't help but smile, ‘cause he'd known that was the response he'd get when he phrased his question that way.

He was halfway to the balcony doors when he realized he was being followed. A glance over his shoulder revealed shoulder length blond hair, brilliantly vivid blue eyes, and a seriously impressive full throat tattoo. What the hell was that?

The smack of slamming into the balcony door stopped him short and yanked his attention away from the tattoo and his curiosity over why Micah would be following him in the first place.

"You're supposed to open it with your hand, not your face," Micah deadpanned.

Despite the way his cheek stung from colliding with the glass, Aaron chuckled, then opened the door properly and stepped out into the waning day. Streaks of color marred the deepening blue of the sky, the white of the clouds highlighted in brilliant orange and yellow. Aaron never took his eyes off them as he slipped a case from his back pocket and produced one of the blunts he'd rolled earlier in the day. He heard Micah fiddling with a cellophane wrapper, the scratch of a lighter proceeding the stench of cigarette smoke.

The sound of a shrill, angry bird screeching erupted from his phone, the first sound it had made all day. He'd assigned that sound to Hawk in loo of the hawk scream he'd initially considered, mostly because it made him laugh to picture Hawk's fierce face with that sound coming out of it.

I haven't received anymore pissed off texts from Kelly, so I assume everything is going okay.

Of course, Hawk was checking up on him. Best to go ahead and answer before he assumed the worst.

It's going, I guess. I still don't know how I feel about any of this.

Hawk's response was immediate, which meant the kids were occupied, or already in bed.

Then stop trying to feel anything.

Grumbling, Aaron took a long toke before typing his answer .

How the hell am I supposed to do that?

Figure it out!

Yeah, figure it out because Hawk didn't want the answer to be that Aaron was done with music. The thought hit him with such vicious clarity it was like getting gut punched. He sagged against the railing, throat too tight for the smoke to travel down, so he wound up doubled over, coughing and gripping the metal bar.

He longed to type done with the kind of finality that would close the door on all the bittersweet things between them, but a word couldn't make his heart stop hurting or all the pain of being rejected again go away. But maybe he could figure out how to make it hurt less, even if that meant drowning himself in green leafy substances and Kelly's fucked up version of some future for them in the music industry.

At least Micah was silent, as were most of the cars that went whizzing past the building. It made for a peaceful night, though they occasionally found themselves the targets of a nearby crow's taunts. It was perched on the far railing of the balcony, hopping left then shuffling right in an interesting little dance. Aaron watched it through the curl of smoke around his head, the ache in his shoulders lessoning with every puff. There was something about its eyes, piercing, like it was staring into Aaron's soul. He shivered, wondering what it saw there, and if it was something ugly.

Caw caw, shuffle hop, caw some more, like it was performing for him. It reminded him of the days when the band was new and a good performance meant something besides Raman and peanut butter for dinner. Hawk's ringtone again, dammit. Aaron hadn't even responded and the fucker still had more to say to him.

Fuck it.

He hit the do not disturb button without reading the message, then instantly felt a cold pang of fear, worried that it had something to do with one of the kids, and immediately turned the feature off again.

Put your focus on the music and do what you were born to do.

Aaron knew it was meant to be encouragement but all it felt like was another stab to the soul. He'd read the words that were written, but in his head the words echoed as put your focus on the music, it's the only thing you'll ever have. A sudden breeze blew his hair into his eyes, and when he brushed it back, the buckle on his bracelet caught the dragon earring in his right ear, giving it a little tug. Joint held between his lips, he untangled it and slipped the earring out of his ear. A shiny silver circle in its belly held a stone that was supposed to represent the moon. When a light beam struck the stone, making it shimmer, he was reminded that crows loved shiny things.

Maybe it was the peacefulness of the night, or just unsuppressed curiosity, but instead of putting the earring back in his ear, he inched closer to the crow, took a drag, and inched some more. He didn't want to get close enough to startle it into flying away, just close enough to hang the earring from the wrought iron bars before backing off to see what it would do.

He finished that first blunt waiting for the bird to make up its mind. So far, all it did was eye the shimmering piece of metal like it was a trap. No worries. A lyrics break meant Kelly would be at it for a while, and Aaron had rolled four before coming up, so he popped another out of the case, even though he was good and stoned, lit it and leaned against the railing, staring at the crow.

There was a bit of irony too, him making an offering to a bird and waiting to see if it would be accepted or rejected. He tried not to think about the way it paralleled his little stroll through limbo with Hawk, but it was impossible to bury it completely.

When the melty feeling hit, everything narrowed down to the sunset on those iridescent wings, and the way the crow's curiosity had moved it closer and closer to that dangling dragon and moonstone earring. It still took several more minutes before the crow grew brave, snatched up the earring, and flew away. Aaron watched it until it disappeared into the sunset.

"He'll remember that, ya know," Micah said, startling Aaron, ‘cause he'd forgotten Micah was there. "He might even come back hoping for another gift."

"Guess I'll have to carry something shiny in my pockets from now on."

"Might be a good idea, unless you want to give away a small fortune in jewelry."

Snorting, Aaron shook his head. "I'd be surprised if I paid more than ten bucks to get that thing. That crow will probably cherish it more than I ever did."

Micah didn't say anything for a minute, but Aaron heard the crinkle of cellophane again, and it was soon followed by more acrid cigarette smoke. The not talking was far more comfortable than attempts at meaningless conversation, but of course, it couldn't last.

"So, was it the monumental disaster you expected it to be?" Micah asked as Aaron kept watch for the crow.

"Huh?" Aaron muttered, turning to face him for the first time since they'd come out there.

"Just wondering if having me as part of the band is as horrible as you expected."

"We've barely gotten started; I need a full session to know if a disaster is monumental or not."

"Yeah, I guess the song is still in disaster territory. Just do me a favor, don't hold your breath waiting for me to get preachy. Your buddy Kelly, he seems to really like you, and I'd hate to have to explain how you asphyxiated trying to prove a point to him, especially with the way you pull together rifts. We've got a good shot of avoiding monumental all together, as long as you can untwist your panties about the whole Amish thing."

It was so out of left field and caught him so off guard, that Aaron choked on the smoke he'd just inhaled, and coughed until his throat hurt. His eyes watered, but when he wiped away the moisture, Aaron noticed something he hadn't before. That throat tattoo of Micah's was a brightly colored coral reef with a wide assortment of odd but familiar looking fish. He couldn't help but stare, especially at the brown and white fish with thin tendrils of spiny fins, and a spooky looking fish with some kind of dangly piece hanging off the top of its head.

"You can stop staring any time now," Micah muttered, backing away.

The cherry on his cigarette glowed as he took a drag, and while he hated the scent of cigarette smoke, Aaron closed the distance between them so he could stare at the fish with all the spines sticking out of its body, inches away from a stone with a fish face nestled between a sea anemone and a fish with bright blue stripes.

"Seriously. Stop staring at me," Micah grumbled, turning a little.

That just revealed another bit of the tattoo, the bright colors rendering Aaron unable to look away. "I'm not staring at you."

"We'll I know you're not staring through me, so what the fuck?"

"Was checking out all the freaky ass fish you've got tattooed across your throat," Aaron explained. "They look like they belong in an aquarium exhibit. They're all tropical, aren't they? Isn't that a stonefish? And the one with the spines, it's a lionfish, right? And that's a puffer. Ohh shit, isn't that a boxfish? And a Zebra Surgeon?"

"Dude, chill, what the fuck? You're getting a little too enthusiastic there. How about you dial it down a notch?"

His words were like a bucket of ice water and Aaron nearly tripped over himself backing away.

"Shit, sorry man."

"No harm done," Micah said. "And you're right, about the fish, you pretty much named all the visible ones."

"Umm, okay," Aaron muttered, turning his attention to the city down below and the bright lights that had begun to highlight the streets.

"You're unbelievable."

"Huh?"

"You're either the most socially inept person I have ever met in my life, or you're going out of your way to get a rise out of me."

"How about none of the above," Aaron shot back. "I was seriously just admiring your ink. I've spent a lot of my down time wandering through aquarium exhibits. Some of the colors are seriously trippy and I don't know, kind of inspiring."

Silence followed his words, like Micah was searching his words for hidden meanings before responding. "Thanks. I guess."

Chuckling, Aaron relit his joint and took a long drag. "It was a compliment; in case you're confused."

"Good to know."

Yet from the way Micah said it, Aaron couldn't be certain if he truly felt that way, or if he was uncertain about how to take what Aaron had said.

"For the record, since we might as well rip the last of the bandage off and be done with it, I have no interest in discussing god, theology, eastern religions, wicca, witchcraft, or even Satanism with you or anyone else," Micah said. "I left that behind when I left my home and my family. I have no interest in revisiting the topic unless you wanna compare which of us has the biggest reason to hate all things religious. Personally, I'm sure it's me, considering I grew up in a culture where we're supposed to forgive even the most heinous crimes against us, and yet we have to shun the people we love so they'll fall in line."

"Yeah, okay, whatever, consider it a dropped subject," Aaron muttered, squirming as he took another drag.

"Good."

Aaron exhaled a series of smoke rings and was about to bring the joint back to his lips when the French doors of the balcony swung open, and Declan came wheeling out. He had such a fierce scowl on his face that Aaron backed into the railing trying to avoid him and that chair. He waited for the yelling and cursing to start, his thoughts spiraling as he tried to remember if he'd fucked something up. If he had, it wasn't intentional. He opened his mouth to say that when Declan plucked the joint from between his fingers and sparked it up himself. It shocked him out of a confused twist of reality and memory and brought Aaron firmly back to the present.

"You might as well keep staring and get it all out of your system," Declan grumbled when Aaron didn't look away even after the third and fourth drags he'd taken off Aaron's joint.

Blinking, Aaron wondered what the hell else the guy expected him to do while he had Aaron crowded against a rail while he was steadily reducing the blunt to a roach. "Excuse me?"

"No. I will not excuse your shitty behavior."

"What the fuck are you talking about!" Aaron snapped. "You're the one who rolled out here and decided to claim my blunt like I owed you something, which I don't."

"And that's where you'd be wrong," Declan snapped, flicking what was left of the blunt at Aaron. It bounced off his chest, a tiny red fire trail arching off it. Never one to waste good weed, Aaron knelt to pick it up, only to have Declan roll one of the wheels of his chair over top of it.

"What the hell is your problem man!" Aaron snarled, snatching his fingers out of harm's way and landing on his ass.

The fierce glare Declan shot him nearly froze him in place as Aaron huddled against the rail, heart pounding so hard it was making his head hurt. "Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing!" Declan barked.

Micah slid between the pair, forcing Declan to back away. "Let's take whatever this is about to be inside where no one is tempted to toss anyone over a railing."

"Too late." Declan grumbled. "I'm well past temptation."

"Then how about you get it back in check before some concerned neighbor sends the cops up here!" Micah declared, the whole exchange making Aaron scrunch tighter against the bars.

Was Micah defending him, or just trying to keep the bloodshed to a minimum? His head spun trying to figure it out, the balcony flashing in a bust of light, replaced by a kitchen with cracked yellow tile and a wooden spoon slashing shadows around the room each time his grandfather swung it at him. Cringing, the back of Aaron's head struck the metal bar behind him, and everything flashed again, bringing him back to the moment and the two men in front of him.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Micah stared Declan down, the other man narrowing his eyes before backing his wheelchair back inside the condo.

"T-thanks," Aaron muttered as he slowly unfolded himself from his crouch, back aching as his head continued throb.

"For the record, I happen to agree with him," Micah said. "There is no excuse for you being an ass after you read our dossiers. Our playing was good enough to speak for itself before you knew anything else about us. You should have left it at that."

"I would have, but it's hard to ignore something so clearly printed in black and white."

"Okay, well that covers what you thought about me, what's your excuse for Declan?"

"Where would you like me to start?" Aaron hissed. "The logistics of getting him up on stage, especially at some of the bigger venues, or the fact that our tour bus isn't exactly wheelchair friendly? Being able to play and all is great when you're booked at downtown bars and the occasional festival, but we're talking high octane shows, high profile events, and a breakneck pace that quite honestly, I don't see him keeping up with."

"And you base all that on the chair?"

"What else do I have to base it off of?"

"Exactly. That dude is one beast of a drummer and have you looked at his upper arms, he's jacked. I'd be willing to bet he'd leave you in the dust if you were both in a rush to get somewhere. Do you wanna know what I think?"

"Not particularly."

"Too bad, I'm gonna tell you anyway," Micah said, pausing dramatically. At this point, Aaron decided he'd had about enough of the entire day and needed a shower and a swim. "I think you haven't looked at him at all."

"Hello, you just got between us, I was face to face with him, sorta, so how do you figure I haven't looked at him?"

"Your eyes might have been pointed in his direction, but you never saw past the chair," Micah said. "Hell, if you ask me, I'd say you were terrified of it."

Aaron glanced away, staring out over the rooftops. "Whatever."

"Un-huh, I'm pretty sure you just proved my point."

"Whatever point ya'll are trying to prove out there, one of you had better shut the balcony doors while you make it. I'm not heating the whole fuckin' neighborhood." Kelly bellowed.

Aaron watched him head into the kitchen with a battered notebook in his hand and assumed they were moving their session to await the food. Declan had already wheeled himself up to the table, and now Micah turned and left Aaron on the balcony to think about whether or not to join them.

Not , his inner voice screamed so loudly he was left no choice but to listen to it.

He fished another joint out of the case because the easy flowing mellow vibe he'd managed to slip into over the course of the day had vanished the moment Declan had arrived. Okay, so maybe Declan's chair unnerved him a little. Well, a lot. It threw him back to the years in his grandparents' house and the way his Gramps had wielded his chair like a weapon to terrify him or berated a too small Aaron for not being able to maneuver him where he wanted to go. Seeing those wheels had left him wishing he could fly off like the crow had, which would probably have been considered more offensive than not wanting Declan around in the first place. And yet somehow, they were supposed to make music together without Aaron having a complete and utter meltdown?

It was all set up so he could fail.

He took a deep drag, sighed, and closed his eyes. Music had always been his whirlwind roller coaster ride, the more intense the better. Rage, pain, sorrow, hope, joy, even those fleeting brushes with love that he'd tucked down deep and tried to hide from. There was no hiding anything in the music. He could let it all seep out, every bit of ugly and the few things that that might be beautiful, someday. When that guitar was in his hands, he could spill his blood on the strings and make magic. He could be something to the masses that he'd never been to the people closest to him, and sometimes, when they were in the throws of the final song, he knew what it meant to be loved.

Music was the one place where he didn't have to think about saying or doing the wrong things, all he had to do was play the chords he'd written. Now there was going to be this constant current of anxiety rolling around everything they did as a band. How long would it be before he said something insensitive or suggested they go do something that Declan wouldn't be able to do? He wouldn't mean to exclude him, but he doubted the others would see it that way and they'd all turn on him like rabid dogs looking to tear him apart for being stupid enough to open his mouth in the first place.

And that was the other bit that had him bothered. Kelly had drawn a line in the sand, and he wasn't on Aaron's side of it. Nothing like a carpet of cracked glass and spider webs to make one fearful of falling, and he would fall. He would fuck up spectacularly, which would piss Kelly off, and dammit all, no rush in the world was worth losing another friend.

And then there was how Hawk would take it. Would he believe it had been deliberate? Would that be the final breaking point between them. The one that erased even the friendship? He was reminded of the feel of Hawk's hands in his hair, Hawk's cock buried in him, the two of them choking back their moans so they wouldn't wake the kids, which had been sexy as hell, when he really thought about it. He'd have given anything in the world to be free of the fear that moments like those were numbered. That moments with Hawk of any sort would one day be in short supply.

"The foods been here for ten minutes now," Kelly said, startling Aaron as he interrupted his thoughts. "You coming in, or are you settling in for a nap?"

Aaron hugged Kelly the moment his friend knelt in front of him. "You mean more to me than the music, okay? Don't ever wanna lose you because of it."

"What makes you think you will?"

Sucking in a breath, Aaron told himself to shut up, to stop babbling, but the one thing about weed was how loose it made his tongue and how low it brought his inhibitions. "I don't know how not to be uncomfortable with Declan around. I don't know how not to say the wrong thing. I already said shit wrong, and you're already pissed, and I don't want you pissed more."

He could feel Kelly nod in understanding and hug him just a little bit tighter.

"You're afraid of him, aren't you?"

Aaron bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to stifle his answer, not that words had ever been needed between them or any of the members of his ex-band. Kelly just hugged him tighter and growled, one hand tangling in Aaron's hair, clutching it and helping to ground him a little.

"What did that old bastard do to you?" Kelly asked, his words an echo of ones he'd asked many years before when Aaron had popped up with bruises covering his hands and marring the skin clear up to his elbows. Just like he'd done back then, Aaron huddled against his friend and refused to say anything while Kelly did what he'd done on that day too, stopped asking questions, and simply held him while the world melted away.