Lullabye (Rockstar #6) (11 page)

“Jesse’s turn,” I say.

“Lucky me,” he replies. He chuckles at the first one and holds it up. It’s got arrows pointing at each arm hole and the word arm with each arrow. Ditto for the legs. In the middle it says
You can do this Dad.

“I could use that sometimes,” Ethan admits.

“Me too,” Kennedy agrees.

Jesse cuts me a glare. “My daddy is an arrogant bastard.”

More laughs and I’m feeling pretty damn proud of my purchases.

“K Quads,” Jesse announces with a laugh. “Nice.” He raises a brow. “Last ones?”

I nod. “Yep.”

“Rollin’ down the street eatin’ cheerios, sippin on a box of juice, LAID BACK, with my mind on my mommy and my mommy on my mind,” Jesse sings.

“You can’t not sing that!” Lucy exclaims.

“Those are very thoughtful, Xander,” Mama tells me. “I knew you’d find something fun for them.”

“Always, Mama. Always.”

Lucy picks up the wrapping paper and organizes the boxes under the tree.

“Flight okay?” Jesse asks.

“Yep. Long, but I got another one of Lucy’s books read,” I admit.

“Which one?” she asks.

“That Ginger Scott chick. I gotta say, Luce, that Reed dude was pretty fucked up for a while there.”

“Right?!” she agrees.

“Nolan’s got some staying power. You gotta admire that,” I add.

“That’s the truth,” Sera interjects. “I’m not sure I could have hung around like she did with—”

“Shush!” Meggie scolds. “I haven’t read it yet!”

“Well, get to it,” I tell her. “That’s some good shit right there.
Going Long
is up next.”

Nicole snickers. “Who woulda thunk it? Big bad rock star Xander Mackenzie reading YA romance.”

“I’m like a transformer.”

“Huh?” Coley asks.

“There’s more than meets the eye,” I tell her with a wink and a laugh.

“Lame!” she shouts.

“Dude,” Kennedy says shaking his head.

“That one was bad, even for you,” Ethan adds.

“I thought it was pretty good,” Cage states and I stop in my tracks.

“Doth my ears deceive me? Did Cage dude just say he thought it was pretty good?” I taunt.

“It’ll likely never happen again, so enjoy it while you can,” he replies and I laugh.

“I will, you can bet on that. So, what’s been going on while I’ve been gone? Anyone get knocked up?”

“Xander Thomas Mackenzie,” Mama scolds.

“Sorry mama.”

“Well? Anyone? Did the babies start talking yet? Walking? What’d I miss?” I ask.

“No one’s prego,” Sera tells me, then tacks on a, “thank God.”

“What? You aren’t going to have any more?” I ask.

“Not right now! After seeing Lucy go through all that, there’s now way in hell I’m risking that.”

Cage chuckles. Damn. The dude almost cracked a smile.

“I can understand that,” I admit.

“No talking. No walking,” Kennedy answers.

“Lots of shit pants and puking,” Ethan adds.

“That part of it I didn’t miss,” I confide.

“What do you mean?” Lucy scoffs. “They
never
spit up on you.”

“That’s because I’ve got the magic touch,” I boast, getting groans from around the room. “You know it.” I pull out my iPod. “You can’t touch this.” Then I Hammertime—with Nicole. She’s pretty damn good.

“Admit it, you missed me,” I taunt the guys.

“Can say as I did,” Trace responds.

“You’re just pissed because Megs likes my bod.”

He gives me a glare and flips me the bird. I pretend to reach out and grab it, then tuck it into my pocket.

“What the fuck?” he asks.

“I’m saving it for later,” I reply. “And you owe the swear jar. Tsk, tsk. You should have this down by now, Styx.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, putting his money in the jar.

I look at the jar and whistle. “Who’s been dropping the F bomb?”

Sera shrugs. “That’d be me. I’ve been an F-word type of mood.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

She nods. “Welcome.”

“Where’s Jace?” I ask.

Lucy looks at me worriedly. “He had to go home.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” she tells me. “All I know is he got a message that he needed to get home ASAP. He didn’t give any details.”

“It’s never good when that happens,” Meggie states.

“Isn’t that the truth?” Ethan asks.

There’s silence for a few minutes and the moment is too heavy for the holiday.

“Ready to sing some Christmas songs?” I ask.

“Yes, let’s,” Meggie bounces.

Kennedy strums his ever-present guitar, starting us off with Little Drummer Boy. Up next is It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas. Mama and Anthony are up dancing when we begin All I Want For Christmas, We Wish You A Merry Christmas, and Winter Wonderland. Sera and Lucy sing O Holy Night after which I jump in with Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town—Springsteen style. And I’m a little surprised when Nicole, Kennedy, and Ben sing The First Noel.

“I’m diggin’ it. This is epic.” There’s a cry from one of the babies and I head over, picking up little Konnor—the names on their little caps helps a lot, though I almost have it to where I know who’s who.

I do the diaper change and head over to the sofas by the Christmas tree. Sera grabs the next baby, then Lucy and Jesse. When we’re all around the tree, I know there’s one song left to be sung, to show what this night is really about.

“One more,” I tell Kennedy. He raises his brows and I make an O with my fingers. He nods.

When Sera and Lucy sing loud and strong about falling on your knees, chills go through me.

Jesse passes Kennedy the baby and borrows his guitar. He strums a chord and I grin.

“Yeah, nice.”

He starts singing about being home for Christmas, his voice clear and soft yet still carrying that edge to it he’s known for, and my mind drifts to Tera.

If I have to visit her every year until she’s ready to come to me and be part of this life I will. I’m sure the others don’t understand and they don’t have to—not yet. There’ll come a day for that, but it’s not now. Not until my girl is ready.

I hand the baby to Jesse and snag the guitar, giving Kennedy a look. He shrugs.

“This one’s for Tera,” I tell them and sing
Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas
—classic Judy Garland style.

I won’t lie. It’s hard with her there and me here, even if I have these guys. The family won’t be complete until she’s here—and, for her, I’d wait a lifetime.

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I wish you a safe and happy holiday season!

Cadence, Rockstar #7
, Jace’s story – Coming mid-2016.

True Love Way

©2015 Mary Elizabeth

Chapter One

Dillon

“Who do you think she is?” I ask.

This girl and her parents showed up fifteen minutes ago in the moving truck that’s now parked in front of the empty house next door to mine. With light skin and long brown hair, she’s dressed in ripped-up jean shorts and a faded black T-shirt with a design on the front of it I can’t make out.

“I don’t know,” my best friend, Herb, says. He wipes beaded sweat from his top lip.

I rock back on my heels, keeping my bike steady between my legs as gravel crunches beneath my road-worn Vans. The end-of-summer sun hammers down on us from clear mid-afternoon skies.

Kyle, my other best pal, rolls by on his skateboard, briefly blocking my view. “I’ve never seen her,” he says.

“She must be new.” Herbert halts his bike beside mine and taps his hands against his handlebars to the same upbeat tune that’s been stuck in his head all week.

The house next door is white with yellow trim, and it’s been vacant since last September. The previous owners, the Pimentels, were here one day and gone the next. My parents don’t like it when I eavesdrop, but I heard them say, ‘Mrs. Pimentel took Mr. Pimentel for all he’s worth after she caught him dipping his deep sea fishing pole into somebody else’s ocean.

There have been a few people by since the
For Sale
sign went up. Unless they’re originally from Castle Rain, no one ever stays long. We haven’t had newcomers in a while.

“This place is nothing but townies and old people,” my older sister, Risa, always says. “Fuck Washington.”

“Do you think she’ll be at school tomorrow?” Herb asks.

I shrug.

From the back of the U-Haul truck, a man who looks to be about my father’s age appears with a large box in his arms. Beside him, a short, thick woman with long hair, like the girl’s, dangles a set of keys in her hand. She has pep to her step, practically floating.

If fat people could float.

“Penelope,” the woman calls expectantly. “Do you want to be the first to unlock the door?”

The girl doesn’t answer. The lady with the keys loses her smile, and the man with the box scowls.

“She’s rude.” Kyle scoffs. “I hate her.”

I walk my bike from the street to the sidewalk in front of my house. My best friends stay back, kick flipping and tail whipping while I do nothing more than watch.

“Pen,” the lady tries again, making the keys sing, swinging them harder than the first time. Her arm jiggles.

No response.

“Penelope,” the man stabs. “Don’t ignore your mother.”

Posted on the steps in front of the house, the girl, Penelope—Pen—
whatever,
is in her own little world. She has a black Discman on her hip and earphones in her ears. With a melody of her own, the new girl next door bobs her head back and forth, oblivious to her parents. Her eyes are hidden behind sunglasses with circular green lenses. At first I think she’s mouthing the words to whatever song she’s listening to, but then she blows the biggest bubblegum bubble I’ve ever seen.

My heart does a weird jump-skip-bounce thing.

Pink gum pops, covering her nose and chin. One swipe of her tongue is all it takes to clean up her face. She continues to chew, nod, and ignore.

“Dillon,” Herb whines. “Let’s go, dude.”

I look back at my friends, not as interested in riding bikes all over the town like I was this morning … like I have the last three months. Kyle’s face flushes pink, and Herbert’s forehead glistens as sweat rolls down his temples. They wait, but impatiently.

“It’s the last day of summer,” Kyle adds.

I turn toward the new people. Toward Pen.

“It’s just a girl,” Herbert teases.

Penelope pops another bubble. Her mom walks past her, shoving the key into the doorknob herself. The man with the box, whom I assume is her dad, places the cardboard package at his daughter’s feet. Her name is written across the side of it in black marker:
Pen/ Fragile.

She finally understands and pulls the earphones from her ears. As she stands, wiping dust from her bottom, the girl with the green glasses spots me staring.

I’m greeted with another bubble.

My cheeks scorch red, embarrassed because I’ve been caught gawking. Instead of burning rubber down the street, I lean forward and rest my arms on my handlebars. The object of my weird fascination kneels and lifts the box. She disappears into the house just as her mom comes back outside.

“Dillon, come on,” Herb pleads. “Are you sweet for the girl, or what?”

“Shut up,” I say, rolling my bike onto the street. “Let’s just go.”

“Talk to her,” Kyle teases daringly. His dark blonde hair falls in his eyes, covering the gash on his brow from the fall he took earlier today.

I shake my head, trying not to smile. The itch to look back to see if Penelope’s come out of her house is stronger than my urge to run Kyle over with my bicycle for messing with me. I don’t do either.

“
You
talk to her,” I say.

Herb rides onto the sidewalk and jumps off the curb. He lands on his front tire, bouncing twice before setting the rear wheel down and pedaling in circles around me. “Why? You’re the one who wants to kiss her.”

“I don’t wanna kiss her,” I say. The sound of the moving truck’s doors opening and closing tips my curiosity.

Are they leaving? Is she leaving? Did she forget her gum in the U-Haul?

“Whatever you say,” Kyle jokes.

I stay back while my friends race down the road, kicking off our last long ride before the sun sets and the streetlights come on, ending summer vacation. It’s been a good one—exploring the woods, building jumps, and swimming in the ocean. Herb, Kyle, and I drove our mothers crazy and gave our street neighborhood a run for its money. We spent every day together, wreaking havoc and causing a ruckus. I’m not ready for it to end, but I want to know more about the girl who showed up out of nowhere.

But I’d rather hide curiosity than deal with crap from my buddies. I press on my neon orange bike pedals, rotating the greasy silver chain, spinning the treaded tires, and push myself forward. Right away my heartbeat quickens, gearing up for the rush I get from using muscles that are beyond tired from riding as fast as I do. The right side of my mouth curves before the left, and the warm wind stings my eyes.

This is where I belong.

Before I get too far, I give in to curiosity and look over my shoulder. Penelope steps out of the house onto the porch in front of a stack of five or six boxes. Instead of picking one up, the girl with Chucks the same color as the sunglasses on her face actually waves at me.

I ride faster.

Girls are weird, even pretty ones who can blow the coolest bubbles I’ve ever seen.

* * *

After exhausting every ounce of daylight, I start my ride home. Guided by the yellow-orange hue from the streetlamps, I pedal slowly down my street alone. The night’s warm, salt-scented and thick, but the burn from the sun is gone. A cat runs across the street in front of me. Someone’s sprinklers turn on, misting my face as I roll by. I can hear
Jeopardy!
playing from a television.

I move my bike impossibly slower as I approach my house, stretching out my last few minutes of freedom. The moving truck next door is gone, swapped with a silver Chrysler. I don’t see any more boxes on the porch, and there’s a wooden plaque above their door that reads
The Finnels’
.