Lost, p.13
Lost, page 13
A week later a reporter at another event had asked her what she was wearing. “Hooker red,” she’d replied proudly, doing a little spin in the form-fitting dress that had driven him crazy when she’d first stepped out of the bedroom in it. He’d guessed her intentions the moment he’d seen it. It was a screw you to the hate she’d been pelted with for years, to the people who called themselves fans but spent most of their time hating on every woman who dared to have a relationship with the band. Zack had been so proud of her that night.
And he was damn proud of the way that dress looked on her again now.
“Hooker red still suits you,” he told her with a wink.
Georgia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now.
How long had it been since they’d had a night out together, just the two of them? Too long. Even before Lysander had come into their lives, it had been at least a month since they’d dressed in their finest and headed downtown for an evening alone. No band to distract him with music talk, no friends to coo about kids with her, no Lysander for them to be mindful of. Just the two of them sharing a long overdue meal at their favourite restaurant.
It wasn’t the fanciest place they could have gone, nor the closest, but it was definitely the most sentimental. It was the first “high class” place Zack had taken Georgia to when he’d finally earned enough money to be able to afford it, back when she was still just his girlfriend and he was freshly crowned rock royalty, before they’d learned what high class really was. He’d gotten all sorts of looks from the other patrons for his tattoos and piercings, but he hadn’t cared. Georgia had loved the place. Had loved the experience. It was where she’d requested they go for her twenty-fifth birthday, where he’d decided to propose a year or so later, where they’d gone for dinner on their first anniversary…
Ownership had passed from father to son at some point, but the place itself hadn’t changed much over the years. It was still all red velvet and warm woods, hushed voices and flickering candles. Thankfully, the clientele had changed, just enough that not every head swung to look at Zack as he sat across from his wife. He liked to think it was because people were getting with the times and not because he’d removed his lip piercings and covered his tattoos.
After dinner they took to the beach, Georgia carrying her heels as they walked through the low tide. These were the sorts of night’s Zack missed. Maybe he’d run it by the band — a night spent at the beach with their significant others was definitely in order. They could make an entire day of it if they really wanted to. Maybe after the album was done, as a way to relax and reward themselves for a job well done.
It was barely after ten when they returned to the house, shaking sand from their feet and smiling like children. Zack had barely shrugged out of his suit jacket before his wife was putting on a movie for them to wind down to.
He barely made it halfway through before he found himself nodding off.
*
Zack half heard the front door slide open, letting in the distant sounds of the highway before clicking shut and muffling the noise once more. Georgia’s head turned on his chest.
“Hi, Ly,” she said softly. “How was your night?”
Quiet footsteps padded into the living room. The rustle of Lysander’s jacket was louder than his shoes on the carpet. “Good. It was great. It was nice to get out for a while and relax.” A moment of quiet hesitation, and then, “I hope this isn’t too late. I know it’s after midnight, but—”
“It’s fine.” Georgia shifted her weight, raising herself off Zack’s chest. “It’s Saturday, and you’re entitled to have a little fun. I’m just glad you got home safe. But you should have called us to come pick you up. Walking around at this hour isn’t safe.”
“Oh, I didn’t walk. Jack’s mom dropped me off. I thought you guys might still be out, and she was already there, so…”
Silence fell between them again. Zack listened to the sounds of the movie still playing, debating whether he should reveal he was awake, and then…
“I got the impression earlier that you wanted to stop me going to the party,” Lysander said quietly. “Why didn’t you?”
So Lysander had picked up on that. Interesting.
Georgia shrugged against him. “I’m not your mother. I have no right to tell you what you can and can’t do, especially when your father’s already said you can do it.”
Guilt blossomed in Zack’s chest. Was that why she’d been down earlier? She’d not only disagreed with his decision, but also felt like she had no place to override it. How many other times had she held her tongue? What other decisions had he made that she disagreed with? Why wasn’t she voicing these things to him in the moment? Even if she didn’t feel right telling Lysander no, he could. If only he knew he was making the wrong decision in the first place.
He was about to speak up when Lysander said, “You can, though.”
The boy stepped further into the living room and sunk into one of the armchairs. Georgia followed his movements, one hand still resting on Zack’s chest. He kept still, hardly daring to breathe, not wanting to interrupt whatever was happening between his wife and son. He didn’t want to be overhearing this conversation, but he feared that if he moved he’d disturb the peaceful atmosphere.
“You’re not my mom,” Lysander agreed, “but you’re my step-mother. I get that I’m supposed to hate you and rebel and all that crap, but—”
“You don’t hate me?”
Lysander’s response was equally surprised. “You thought I did?”
It was Georgia’s turn to hesitate. Zack wished he could take her hand.
“You’ve been so…” She shook her head, her earrings jingling with the motion. “It feels like every time I try to talk to you, you spend the entire conversation trying to get rid of me. And I know that’s my fault. I should never have brought up your mother that afternoon. But Zack had been so worried about everything, and I wanted to make sure everything went well…”
She was a saint.
Lysander was silent for a long moment. Zack could practically picture him looking down at his hands, his brow creased as he thought on Georgia’s words. Always thinking before he acted, that kid.
Except when it came to hitting his classmates, it seemed.
“I don’t mean to,” he said. “I guess…you remind me of my mom. A lot. Sometimes having you around is a little overwhelming, but that doesn’t mean I hate you. I just…need a little space sometimes.”
“That’s why I’m not trying to be your mother. You know I’d never try to replace her, right?”
“Yes. But I also know when the band goes on tour, it’s just gonna be you and me around here, and I don’t want that to be awkward.”
Tour.
“I’m sure we can work things out by then,” Georgia said gently. “We had fun at lunch yesterday, right? Maybe we can make that a more regular thing, start getting to know each other better.” She paused for a brief moment before adding, “I’d love it if you’d spend more time down here with us in the afternoon.”
“I guess I could try to do my homework in the kitchen instead.” Lysander gave an audible yawn.
“Good boy.” There was a smile in Georgia’s voice. “You should head up to bed before it gets too late.”
“Right. Thanks.” Lysander stood. “You want me to bring a blanket down or something?”
“That’s all right. We’ll be up soon.”
Lysander yawned out a good night as he headed for the stairs. Georgia settled back against Zack’s chest, entwining her fingers with his and squeezing his hand gently.
“He’s a good boy,” she whispered.
Zack could only smile.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
California is everything you ever said it would be.
Zack is amazing. I know I always said he would be some stuck-up rockstar who probably wouldn’t want anything to do with us, but I was wrong. He’s a genuinely nice guy and he’s been more helpful than I ever could have imagined, getting more detectives on your case, getting his entire fanbase involved, and I know that even if I try for the rest of my life, I’ll never be able to repay him.
The rest of his band are great too, just like you said they would be. I really like Pat and Brendan. Dad doesn’t know this, but Georgia told me how freaked out he was when he found out about us and how much Pat and Brendan helped him to prepare. How much they’re still helping him. I won’t say much more about any of them, because I want you to get to know them for yourself. There aren’t words to describe them, anyway. They’re just an amazing group of guys.
I’m still getting used to Georgia. She’s not Mom. She never will be, and I know that she knows it, but she’s trying her best. I can see that. She’s a better person than most people give her credit for. We’re getting to know each other slowly, and it’s great. I thought maybe she would resent having me around, but she seems okay.
But these are all people that you already know about. I’ve made friends here in California. I didn’t really expect to but I have, and I’m excited for you to meet them.
Nobody could ever replace Kieran of course, but Jack has fast become my best friend around here. He took me under his wing on my first day and we’ve been friends ever since. He looks like a surfer, but don’t get your hopes up. He doesn’t play for your team. He gets bullied a lot for it, but we’re dealing with that issue.
Then there’s Eliza Beth. I don’t know what it was about her that drew me in. She reminds me so much of you — you both dress the same way, listen to the same music. She’s sweet and she’s kind, and she’s beautiful, of course. She became my girlfriend this past weekend and for the first time since you went missing, I felt happy. Like I could be myself again for a little while.
It’s weird not having you around. You’d think that we’d be used to being separated since we’re fifteen already, but it’s strange. I don’t like not having you close by, even if it’s just by phone. Maybe it’s because Mom got ripped away at the same time, but I’m feeling a little separation anxiety setting in. I think that’s why I’m writing this letter. I blame Ms. Lowe and her free-writing exercises, but it feels good to get some thoughts out. And I know you’ll read it eventually, so it’s my way of talking to you now.
You’d better not make fun of me for this.
Anyway. It’s almost five-thirty, so I’m going out for a run. You’d better be found soon, sis.
Lysander got dressed, switching his pyjama bottoms for a pair of track pants and a sleeveless shirt. He pulled his sneakers out from their new home under the bed and shoved his feet into them quickly, eager to get out into the fresh morning air. His phone was stuffed into his pocket carelessly. He carried his usual note for Zack and Georgia as he made his way downstairs and dropped it on the kitchen counter where it could easily be found. A couple of stretches and then he was off, out on his morning run.
He felt like he was back into his old routine now. It was Wednesday and he’d been out on a run every morning for the past week, with the exception of Sunday, after the party. He knew the paths well, knew how far he could run and still have time to make it back to the house in time to get ready for school, and he travelled them confidently. He decided to take his new favourite that morning, the one that led him down to the beach he’d finally braved again on Monday. A trip down to the sandy shores was exactly what he needed to start his day.
The sun rose on his back, warming his neck as the sand greeted him like an old friend. It curled up around his shoes and tickled his ankles when the wind allowed it. He closed his eyes and let the rest of his senses tell him what was happening — from the tide pulling in and out to the salty breeze playing with his hair, to the sound of somebody walking in the sand behind him.
“Jeez, you run fast, kid.”
Lysander knew the voice. He opened his eyes and turned in surprise, smiling when the familiar face greeted him.
“Uncle Brendan,” he said in greeting. “Bit early for you to be up, isn’t it?”
“Just ‘cause your old man sleeps all day, doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” Brendan grinned. “Figured I’d come down and get some surfing in before I had to start the day.”
He gestured to the board that he carried under one arm. Lysander eyed it, surprised that it hadn’t been the first thing he’d noticed. The rest of Brendan’s attire had made his intentions of getting into the water perfectly clear.
“You surf?”
“Yep. You ever tried?”
“Never,” Lysander confessed. “Hell, I’d never even been to the beach before I came to this one. Columbus isn’t exactly known for its coastlines.”
“Now that,” Brendan said with a grimace, “is unacceptable. What kind of kid has never been to the beach?”
Now that he’d had the opportunity, he had to agree that it had been a crime.
“Well, let’s see it, then,” he said instead, nodding out towards the waves. “Are you any good?”
“Oh, sure. I’m the best. I’ll give you a real show.”
Brendan winked and took off for the water. Lysander sat in the sand and watched his uncle run. He was getting more than a few stares from the bikini-clad girls on the beach. It was hard to tell whether they were fans or simply admirers of his tanned abs and tattooed biceps.
Brendan turned out to be a pretty good surfer by Lysander’s standards, which were low given that he knew nothing about the sport. All he knew was that Brendan didn’t once fall off his board, and that was good enough for him. He watched the man navigate the waves with ease, weaving this way and that and taking turns that Lysander was certain would make him lose his balance. But Brendan never did.
The sun had fully risen by the time Brendan made his way back onto the sand. He was drenched from head to toe and looked utterly pleased by it.
“And that’s why you need the beach,” the man said, as if he had been giving the boy a lesson the entire time. “The ladies love a wet man.”
“You look like a drowned dog.”
“Real cute,” Brendan said, pushing his dark hair out of his face even as Lysander grinned. “You’re just like him, you know that?”
He stuck his board into the ground and dropped down into the sand beside Lysander, waving at a couple of teenage girls who had spotted him and were frantically waving at him themselves.
“Never a dull moment,” he mused, more to himself than to the boy beside him.
“Do you ever get tired of it?”
“Sometimes,” Brendan admitted. “There are times when you just want to be left alone, y’know? Like when Tommy died. We just wanted to be with our friends and family, but there were some people who insisted on being in our faces about it. A couple of fans, a journalist or two. They wouldn’t leave us alone.”
“Tommy.” Lysander frowned. “I know that name.”
“He was our drummer,” Brendan said with a sad smile. “Practically our brother. He passed away five years ago.”
Lysander knew this. He remembered now when Dakota had told him, struggling to get the words out through her own tears. He had comforted her while she had mourned for the man that she had never gotten to know, mourned for the drummer of her favourite band, mourned for one of her father’s closest friends. He remembered her babbling on about how much it must have hurt them all. It was a pain that he hadn’t been able to understand.
Until he’d lost his mother. Until Dakota had vanished.
“I’m sorry to hear it,” he said in earnest. “I shouldn’t have asked. I would have remembered eventually.”
“It’s fine. It’s easier for us to talk about him these days.”
But there was still a sadness in his eyes that Lysander didn’t like seeing, so he made a mental note never to mention the fallen drummer again. He wondered if that was the reason that people so scarcely brought up his mother — because they knew how it felt to have the death of a loved one shoved in their faces.
“Skipping school today?”
“I don’t skip school,” Lysander replied. He briefly checked his watch before adding, “I have fifteen minutes before I officially have to head back to the house. Might as well make the most of it.”
“...or you could skip school and hang out here all day,” Brendan suggested with a wink. “Zack used to do it all the time.”
“Maybe some other time.”
Brendan chuckled.
“Come here often?”
“Lately, yeah,” Lysander admitted. “This is the third day in a row now. I don’t even know why. I never really cared for the beach before, but now...”
He struggled to find the words. He enjoyed the feel of the sand around him; he liked the scent of the salt on the breeze. He liked listening to the waves and seeing the early risers arrive. He liked watching the people on the street rush back and forth, many of them not even taking a moment to admire the beautiful beach right there on their doorstep. And all while he was able to sit back and drink it all in.
Brendan nodded, as if he knew what Lysander was thinking. They both sat for a while, watching the waves ebb and flow. A comfortable silence surrounded them, broken only by the sound of some giggling girls as they eyed up Brendan’s figure.
“Got a girlfriend yet?”
“I do,” Lysander confessed. “We’ve been going out since Saturday night.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s she like?”
“I think you guys would like her. She listens to your kind of music. ...actually, she listens to your band.”
“She does?”
Brendan’s tone was cautious.
“She doesn’t know that I’m related to Zack,” Lysander said quickly. “I only know she likes your band because she told me when one of your songs played at the party we went to. Other than that, the band has never been mentioned.”
“As long as you’re sure...”
“I am. But thanks for caring.”
Brendan nodded, and let the conversation shift.
Being with Brendan was like being with a friend. He was easy to talk to and he made Lysander feel completely at ease, even when the occasional person started to stare. They talked about girls and what it was like back in Columbus, and they spoke of Mapleton Beach and where all the best places to go had been when Brendan had been a teenager. He spoke with heart about his days as a young adult spent in Pat’s parents’ garage, where the band had taken root. Lysander was wrapped up in the stories he told, so much that he didn’t even realise when his fifteen minutes had officially run their course.
