Beautiful Musician Read online

  Abby frowned at the tray in her hand. She was a picky eater. I nudged her arm, encouraging her to accept another helping of eggs.

  Once her plate was full, she looked for a safe place to sit. She chose an empty table in the back, and we took our seats. Dingo settled in on my lap, and Abby slipped him pieces of meat when no one was watching.

  Truthfully, no one seemed to care what she was doing. Abby was so antisocial, so detached from everyone else, that sometimes it seemed as if no one at The Manor saw her, almost as if she was as invisible as I was.

  Even the staff let her be. Abby had been in therapy for most of her life, but she was a fairly new patient here, so they weren’t putting pressure on her. For now, all that was required of her was to be part of the daily routine, even if she chose to stay in the background.

  I guess they figured that some of it would sink in, helping her develop at least a few of the skills she needed to manage her disease, no matter how minimal those things seemed to the rest of us. But for someone like Abby, remembering to shower and put on clean clothes was a major ordeal.

  I wished she was healthy, and I was real. In my dreams, I would become rich and famous, and Abby and I would move in together, get married, and raise a family.

  How amazing would our kids be? Little rockers going on the road with their mama and daddy.

  My heart clenched with the thought.

  I didn’t have parents. Abby had never given me a family in Room 105. It hadn’t occurred to her to create anyone for me.

  Sweet, scatterbrained Abby. I would never forget the first time I appeared to her, the very moment she brought me to life. She was nine, and I was eleven, and she was sitting alone on her bedroom floor. Although her room had been typically girlish, with pastel colors, lacy curtains, and stuffed animals all over the bed, she was listening to Mötley Crüe.

  Music that darkened the environment.

  Home Sweet Home was the song that had been playing. A haunting ballad. Lyrics that would come to define me.

  When she’d glanced up and saw me standing off to the side, we stared at each other. Instantly drawn to her, I’d lifted my hand and waved in a silent greeting. She’d waved back, waggling her fingers and making me smile.

  I thought she was weirdly cute, with her matted hair and enormous blue eyes. It hadn’t occurred to me back then that I was going to fall in love with her when we got older.

  After I walked over to her, she said, “Your name is Smiling Seven.”

  I wasn’t wild about the name she’d just given me, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I kept smiling, letting it become part of who I was.

  “You’re sort of like him.” She showed me an album cover and pointed to a picture of Nikki Sixx. Her dead mother’s record collection was piled on the floor. Some of them were CDs, some were cassettes, and some were vinyl.

  Granted, it was odd for her to be telling me who I was, but it felt right, too. She was treating me as if I was important.

  I sat down next to her, and with a boy’s cocky pride, I said, “Someday I’m going to be a musician. I’m going to sing and play guitar and write songs and make it big.” I gestured to the album cover. “Like them.” Already their music was filling my young soul, shaping me into the pierced-and-tattooed man I would become.

  Abby said, “You’re from Room 105. It’s an otherworld created from people’s imaginations, and I just created you.” She leaned forward. “When you’re here, no one but me is going to be able to see you.”

  “Have you ever been to Room 105?”

  She shook her head. “The door to it is in a secret location, and I don’t know where it is. You don’t know where it is, either.”

  I was getting confused. “Then how did I get here?”

  “You just walked across the border. People from 105 can do that.”

  I dragged a hand through my hair. Walking across the border made me sound pretty cool.

  “They have monsters there,” she said.

  Holy crap. “Monsters?”

  “That patrol the border. Someday they’re going to try to hurt you, but it won’t happen until you’re older. The monsters are mean and ugly and they like to scare kids, but they aren’t allowed to kill them.”

  “But they can kill me when I’m grown up?”

  She nodded.

  I shrugged as if it didn’t matter. If it was a ways off, then I wasn’t going to dwell on it, even if it gave me the creeps. Besides, it was better to be tough and brave.

  She tugged on her top. She was wearing a Tinker Bell T-shirt and cut-off shorts.

  “You kind of look like a fairy,” I told her.

  “My sister says that, too.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked. She’d yet to introduce herself. For all I knew, she really was a fairy. I imagined her with paper wings, decorated with glue-clumped glitter.

  “I’m Abby Winston.” She tapped her chin. “And you know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “That your smile makes your powers stronger.”

  “I have powers?”

  “You’re a psychic, Seven. But your abilities are just starting to develop.”

  “Really? Damn.” I was going to smile all the time. I liked the idea of knowing stuff other people didn’t know.

  She sat up a little straighter. “I’m going to use you as my private consultant.” Her pretentious attitude intrigued me. I figured that she must have been smarter than she looked. I was impressed with how bright she was.

  We stayed like that for hours, sitting on the floor, listening to music and becoming friends.

  When it was time for me to leave, I promised her that I would come back and visit as often as I could.

  After I disappeared and walked across the border and into the land of 105, I was thrust into a peculiar world. I quickly learned that 105 could be light and airy or dark and ominous.

  My first experience was frazzled in fear. I sensed the border monsters watching me. I couldn’t see them, but I knew they were there, hiding under boulders, their red eyes peering into the night. What Abby said was true: someday they were going to try to hurt me.

  And now, all these years later, the threat was getting closer, along with the ache of being separated from Abby.

  Chapter Four

  After breakfast, Abby and I put Dingo back in her room. Then we went to the nurses’ station, where she was given her meds. Some patients were permitted to take their medication without supervision, but Abby wasn’t one of them.

  I tagged around with her all day, but she didn’t let on that I was there. At the moment, we were in a cooking class, and Abby’s group was making chocolate chip cookies.

  She lingered, watching instead of participating. As usual, no one paid her any mind. The other students were too focused on the lesson to care about what Abby was doing, and the instructor was letting her stay in her comfort zone.

  I decided that I should put a stop to Abby relying on me so much, so I walked away and stood in the back of the room. She wasn’t pleased that I left her side. She kept looking over her shoulder at me.

  I shot her a little wave of encouragement, and she relaxed a bit. Still, she kept shifting her feet and rocking back and forth. I could tell that all she wanted was for the class to end.

  I thought the chocolate chip batter looked mighty tasty. I wouldn’t have minded pitching in. Soon the cookies would be going into the oven, scenting the air with a home-baked aroma, the kind of sweetness I missed out on by not having a home.

  As a boy, I lived like an orphan on the streets, hanging out in the back alleys of 105, immersed in the stench of garbage and liquor. On occasion I would charm my way into the backdoor of a bakery and let the owner take pity on my poor, hungry soul. Mostly I resorted to stealing. I never told Abby how tough my young life had been. It was easier to keep that stuff to myself.

  “You stink,” I heard a voice say from behind me.

  Fuck. I turned around, knowing it was Face. He wa
s another of Abby’s people. He wasn’t a whole person, though. Basically, he was just a huge round head, sans hair, with nondescript features and long, tapered hands attached to his chin. His purpose in life was to scold you when you did something stupid. But sometimes he just poked fun at you for the hell of it.

  “Screw you,” I said to him.

  Face made a tsk-tsk sound. That was his signature noise. “You reminded Abby to shower today, but you never took one yourself. Like I said, Seven. You stink.”

  I didn’t smell from missing one measly shower. Did I? I almost sniffed my armpits to be sure, but I decided not to give Face the satisfaction of knowing that he’d made me question my hygiene.

  I squinted at him. He bounced around, keeping himself afloat and using his hands like wings. He was a weird-looking duck. I’d always thought of him as a cross between Mr. Potato Head and Humpty Dumpty, but without Mrs. Potato Head or all the king’s men.

  “Go pester someone else,” I said.

  “No one can see me except you and Abby.”

  He had a point. “Then go take a nap with Dingo. He can see you.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. How is he going to see me if he’s asleep?”

  He had another point. “Then go find Bud.” He was another of Abby’s people.

  “Bud’s busy, you moron.” Face motioned to the other side of the room.

  Sure enough, there was Bud, behaving as if he was scouting the kitchen classroom for his next location. In Room 105, Bud was a movie director who smoked cheap cigars and idolized Alfred Hitchcock and Carlo Ponti. He actually looked a bit like the two of them: short, fat, and partially bald. But that was where the similarities ended. His work would never compare to theirs, nor did he speak with a British or Italian accent. He talked like he was from the Bronx, even though he’d never been to New York. He also had this ridiculous habit of mispronouncing the word people, saying “papple” instead. He looked about sixty, but in schizophrenic years, he was immortal.

  I understood why Abby had created me and Dingo, but Face and Bud? The only thing I could figure was that Face represented the jerks in the outside world who bullied Abby when she was little, and Bud was there to direct the craziness.

  I turned back to Face and saw that he was flipping me off. Christ almighty.

  “You’re a dickwad,” I said. “Oh, no, wait.” I gave him the once-over. “You don’t even have a dick.”

  “Ha. Ha.” He rolled his eyes. He loved this type of banter. “I heard that it’s movie night tonight.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Bud. He said the patients gather in the rec room and watch a DVD the staff chose for them.” He went deadpan. “Do you think they’ll be showing One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?”

  I bit back a laugh. “Don’t be an ass.”

  “Okay, then how about Psycho? Or American Psycho? Shutter Island might be a good one, too.”

  “Knock it off.” I was going to lose it for sure.

  “Running with Scissors?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Donnie Darko?”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “Silence of the Lambs?”

  “No more.” I shoved him away.

  But it didn’t work. He flew straight at me, and we started bitch slapping each other like a couple of kids.

  Abby spun around, and we quit acting up. I smiled at her, hoping that she would be interested in movie night. Because now that my foolishness with Face was over, I was in the mood for some true entertainment. A light comedy. A romance.

  Something soft and nice that I could enjoy with Abby.

  Chapter Five

  Abby agreed to movie night. We’d learned that Back to the Future was the show they’d be playing. We’d both seen it before on cable, but it was the kind of classic you could watch again and again. Plus it was from the eighties, and that was right up my alley.

  I convinced Abby to change into a pretty outfit. She didn’t know what to choose, so I thumbed through her closet and found a white sundress trimmed in blue ribbon that matched her eyes.

  She didn’t change in front of me. She went into the bathroom.

  Face, Bud, and Dingo were gone. They’d returned to 105 for the evening. I was glad to be rid of Face. I didn’t need him ruining the ambience. I wanted this to seem like a date, or as close to one as Abby and I could get.

  She came out of the bathroom, glowing like a teen angel. She’d even fluffed her hair and put on a smattering of lipstick.

  “You look gorgeous,” I said.

  “Thank you.” She gnawed on her bottom lip. The sparkly pink color she’d applied wasn’t going to last long.

  “I need to get spruced up now.” I was going to take a shower and throw on a nice shirt with my jeans and boots. No way was I going to risk smelling bad. “Wait for me.”

  “Okay.” She sat on the edge of the bed and folded her hands on her lap. All she needed was a pair of white gloves to look as innocent as she was.

  I knew that Abby had never been kissed. I longed to be the guy who put his mouth against hers, who tasted her crazy goodness.

  I took my turn in the bathroom. I even slapped on some cologne after my shower. I got dressed and returned to my girl.

  She was still sitting in the same spot where I’d left her. She glanced up. By now her lipstick was all gone. I wish I’d been able to kiss it away.

  “How are we going to sit next to each other at the movie?” she asked. “No one is going to leave an empty spot for you.”

  Damn. I hadn’t thought of that. I considered a remedy, a daring alternative. “We could use the same chair.”

  “How are we going to do that?”

  “You could sit on my lap.”

  Her breath caught.

  I backpedalled. “Unless you don’t want to.”

  “No, I do. I’m just…”

  “What?”

  “A little nervous.”

  Of being that close to each other, I thought. “I know. Me, too. But I’d still like to try it.”

  “So would I.”

  I reached for her hand. If we were going to treat this like a date, then some good old-fashioned handholding was in order. Our interlocked fingers felt incredibly nice.

  Secure. Warm and gentle.

  Hand in hand, we went to the rec room, where they’d lined up a bunch of folding chairs in front of a giant flat screen TV. Already the place was filling up.

  “Let’s sit in the back,” I whispered in her ear.

  She nodded, and we proceeded to the very last row and took an end seat. I plopped down first, my heart beating triple time.

  Abby sucked in her breath. Her nerves were showing. I gazed at her with anticipation. Then I smiled. It had always been my method of keeping her calm, of solidifying the bond between us.

  She took the plunge and scooted onto my lap. She was stiff and shy at first, but after I slipped my arms around her waist, she melted against me like buttercream frosting. I imagined her with little sprinkles on top, her confetti-dotted colors spinning around my heart.

  An orderly came by and handed out cartons of popcorn. Abby accepted one for us. Once the rec room was full and everyone settled down, the movie started.

  As intimate as being this close to Abby was, I kept my libido in check. I didn’t get a hard-on, even when she moved around to get more comfortable. I was determined to make our first date as respectful as two people wedged in the same chair could be.

  She ate most of the popcorn. From time to time, I reached around to grab a few handfuls. She made sure that her head didn’t block my view.

  We were good together.

  So very good.

  My favorite scene was when Michael J. Fox went into the heavy metal riff at the dance and everyone stopped and stared at him as if he was from another planet.

  Abby had lots of favorite scenes. She laughed at the funny parts and sighed over the romance: the McFly dad winning over the mom when they were teens.

 
; I hoped that I was winning Abby over in the same tender way. As the credits rolled, I took a chance and kissed the side of her neck.

  She shivered deliciously in my arms. She nearly dropped her empty popcorn carton, too.

  Boom!

  The lights came back on, and she jumped up and smoothed her dress. Abby hardly ever fixed her clothes. I stood and righted myself, as well. You’d think that we’d been making out hard and heavy, with the freaked-out way we were behaving.

  Abby dashed into the hallway, and I zoomed after her. For now, we were the only ones who’d left the rec room.

  “I wish the garden was open,” she said.

  The garden was her favorite location at The Manor. “Me, too.” I needed a gust of air. A breeze. A cleansing of my lungs. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Except for the way you made me feel. I could’ve rubbed myself all over you, Seven.”

  Holy hell. Now I was going to get a boner. Either that or I was going to howl werewolf-style at the moon. If only we could go outside. Anything to escape my hunger for her.

  I cleared my throat. “I better get you tucked into bed.”

  “Are you going to join me?” she asked, with expectation in her eyes.

  “No,” I replied, afraid that I would take it too far. “I’m tucking you in alone.”

  Chapter Six

  Once we were in her room, the awkwardness set in. Not that it wasn’t already there from before, but it was worse now.

  “Go get your pajamas on,” I said.

  “I don’t want to.” She sounded like a stubborn child.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “No.”

  “Did I hurt your feelings?”

  She shrugged.

  “Oh, Abby. Don’t you know how much I want you?”

  She blinked, her lashes fluttering around those big blue eyes. “You want me?”

  “Fuck, yes. I could devour you like a custard-filled pie.”

  Her mouth tilted in a slightly crooked smile. “I’m going to have to learn to make one of those.”

  “You need to learn to make buttercream frosting, too. And sprinkle those little candies on it. ‘Cause when you were sitting on my lap, that’s how good and sweet and colorful you were to me.”