The Lovely Reckless(82)
“Okay.” It’s a lot easier than it sounds. On the second try, I feel a piece of metal inside the door move. I turn the knob, and the door swings open.
Lex gasps.
“Holy shit.” Cruz stares, wide-eyed.
I’ve probably been in Abel’s room fifty times, and it never looked like a self-storage unit before. Boxes are stacked against the walls, from floor to ceiling—some labeled with a year or the name of an album. Other boxes overflow with clothes and leather jackets, concert photos and memorabilia. Framed albums, most likely the ones that used to be in the hallway, are stacked against the wall. But the guitars are the craziest part. Guitar hooks cover an entire wall, and more than a dozen acoustic and electric guitars hang from the hooks by the necks.
“It looks like we’re in the basement of the Tommy Ryder Museum,” Cruz whispers.
Abel is sitting in the middle of his bed, surrounded by stacks of paper and photos.
Lex runs over and wraps her arms around him. “You scared the shit out of me. Why did you lock yourself in here? And what is all this stuff?”
“I’m trying to keep my mom out.” His green eyes dart to the door, and Cruz closes it.
“Your mom is out of town,” Lex reminds him.
“She’s probably auctioning more of my dad’s stuff. I had to buy most of this back.” He waves his arm around the room.
Used scratch-off lottery tickets litter the floor. I pick up a long strip. “Is that why you were buying these?”
“My mom was selling everything—photos and tour jackets, the notebooks he wrote his songs in. Most of the time I had to pay twice as much to buy them back.” Abel looks lost. “That’s why I was gambling. I needed more money. I still remember the morning I found out he OD’d. My mom didn’t even tell me herself. Dad’s manager did the honors. For weeks I saw photos of my father in newspapers and tabloids—lying on the bed in a fancy hotel, with pill bottles scattered around him.” Abel closes his eyes. “His guitars and notebooks, his songs … That’s all I have left of him.”
Lex presses her forehead against his. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “That my mom was selling everything my dad ever touched, like a pill-popping pawnbroker? I’m not all that proud. She even tried to sell this.” Abel holds up a framed sheet of paper, his hand shaking. “It’s the first song my dad ever wrote. It’s never been recorded. And she was going to sell it.”
Abel holds out the frame like he wants me to take it. I do. On the sheet of loose-leaf paper, song lyrics are written down the center in black ink.
“The Lovely Reckless”
Sleepwalking through life, damaged and scarred Wishing and searching for the one thing I can’t name Ugly and destructive, a vessel for the pain Punishing myself for things I can’t remember Paying for ones I can’t forget They find you in the darkness And lead you back to the light The lovely reckless souls that hear your battle cry
So beautiful and broken Making wrong turn back to right
The world stops trying to destroy you With weapons forged from tears gathered from your mistakes Mending, stitching, sparing a heart that always aches Forgiving myself for things I can’t remember Owning the ones I can’t forget They find you in the darkness
And lead you back to the light
The lovely reckless souls that hear your battle cry
So beautiful and broken
Making wrong turn back to right
I wrap my arms around my friend. “It’s going to be okay, Abel.” I’m not sure how many times I repeat the words, but I don’t stop until I start to believe them.
CHAPTER 38
SILENT ECHOES
Marco doesn’t show up at school the next day, and I can’t stop worrying. Even Cruz doesn’t know where to find him.
Halfway through English, I get a text from him.
call me. i need to talk to u.
I can’t call him back without making things harder for both of us. At least I know he’s okay.
Abel and Lex are both out today, too. He stayed home to sort things out, and Lex is helping him until she has to get ready for the gala at the country club tonight. Unfortunately, I promised to go, too. Then I made the mistake of mentioning it to Miss Lorraine. She insisted on giving me the afternoon off so I won’t be late.
Without Lex around to pick me up, I’m stuck taking the bus. Last night I couldn’t sleep, and I’m feeling it today. My backpack feels like it weighs fifty pounds as I lug it across the rec center parking lot. I yawn.
“Long night?” The voice comes from behind me, and I yelp.
Deacon stops in front of me and twists the toothpick in the corner of his mouth as he watches me from underneath his hoodie.
Where did he come from?
“I’m worn out, too. I’ve been trying to figure out how I’m gonna find a driver to replace Marco tonight. We’ve got a big job, and he backed out at the last minute. He wants to ‘be a better man’ or some bullshit like that.”
I stop paying attention after he says Marco backed out of a job. Hope swells inside me. Is that the reason Marco texted earlier?
“So thanks to you, I’m a man down.” Deacon snaps his fingers. “Then it came to me. I was thinking about this shit all wrong. I’ve got the perfect driver standing right in front of me.”