Page 17 of Fractured Souls
I just have to figure out what that truth is.
I messed up last night either way, and I hurt Bo this morning. I need to make this right.
Pulling up to the restaurant he works at, I’m happy to see it isn’t packed right now. He should be done soon, and I want to bring him home. When I'm not here, or pissing him off, he takes the city bus. Walking into the nice restaurant, a familiar voice greets me. “Camden! Camden.” I smile wide as Alicia, the hostess, waves from her podium.
“Hey, Ali.” Her brown hair is pulled up into a slick bun, the tight black shirt she’s wearing showing off her ample curves, and the apron tied around her waist accentuates her hips. We hooked up a while back. It was never serious, but it sure as hell was fun. She broke it off with me, so I can add her to the list of women who never stay.
At least she was nice about it.
Her blue eyes narrow on me. “Are you going to tell me what you did to my sweet angel baby? He’s very grumpy today.”
“Really?” Shit, I’m an asshole. “We got into an argument this morning.”
She studies me a moment before blinking and shaking her head. “Well, be nice to him, or I’ll kick your ass.”
“Noted.” I smile down at her. “He still playing?”
“Yeah, just two more songs. You can sit at one of the open tables near the stage on the left. It’s the one the servers use between breaks. Just don’t make a scene.”
“Thanks, Ali.” I walk past her and feel a tug on my sweater. “What?”
She sucks her teeth, watching me a moment before letting me go. “Nothing, just . . . be easy on him, Cam.”
What is she talking about?
She lets me go. “Of course, Ali.” I turn toward the dining area and quietly make my way through the dimly lit restaurant. I’m not dressed to be in a place like this, but no one pays me any mind as I find the table and sit.
Settled, I look at the stage and watch him play. His back is to me, but I know his eyes are shut, lost in the music. He’s incredible at playing piano, but it’s his soft vocals that snag my attention every time. Husky and sweet, like smoked whiskey, his voice floats through the room. I put my arms on the table and lay my head down, just watching and listening. It’s nearly completely dark in this corner. My eyes start to drift closed as I let the heat of his voice soothe me.
When we were younger he used to sing me to sleep. As embarrassing as it is, I’m afraid of the dark. Siena used to make fun of me; she never got it. What grown man is afraid of the dark?
One that used to get surprise beatings in the dead of night.
It’s been a while since I’ve heard him sing. He just comes alive with music. This is what he’s meant to do.
Ali quietly leaves a water at my table, and I sit up, thanking her before taking a sip. I watch him flow through the melody of whatever he’s singing. It’s beautiful, and I’m sure he wrote it himself. When he’s finished with his piece, he stands and bows to the soft claps of the audience, freezing when his eyes land on mine.
I watch his face fall.
He quickly fixes his smile, waving before walking off the stage to the back room. I look back and see Ali nod at me, so I get up and walk around tables, slipping backstage to the dressing room. I knock and wait.
“No,” I hear against the door.
“Bo, please.”
“Why are you here?”
“I wanted to watch you play, and bring you home.” It’s quiet for a moment. “I’m making buffalo flatbread tonight, and I made an entire pitcher oflimonada Suíçajust for you. Well, besides the glass I had earlier. And then the one I had before I left, but I can make more. I bought plenty of ingredients.”
The door opens a tiny crack. “What are you doing, Camden?”
My full name hurts for some stupid reason. “Just wanted to see you play. Can I please come in?” Fixing his glare, he concedes a moment later and opens the door.
“Why are you really here?”
“That’s it. I just wanted to hear you play. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah? Did you have a good day, Cam? Find a nice girl to fuck all the confusion out of your brain? She nice? Have pretty eyes, and nice lips?” He snorts.
