Wounded Hearts Will Conquer

Chapter 5 - Rapid Breathing & Rooftop Strangers

*Author's Note*

A huge thanks to xRainOverMe for the cover she created for me (:

Chapter 5
Bailey
Rapid Breathing & Rooftop Strangers

”I just want to thank Phil for making all of this possible. And for helping us raise $5,000 for the Ladder 24 men! Cheers!”

I sat on the side of the stage, watching this man named Ed. He was the current chief of the station, wearing a too-tight black t-shirt with matching black jeans and large boots. His faded blonde hair was ruffled and flat against his wrinkling head. He raised his bottle of beer to the crowd ahead of him, and took a sip. The whole room cheered and called Phil back for more entertainment.            

The night turned out very well in my Dad’s favor. Hundreds of people had bought tickets and filled up the small theatre. It reeked of beer, sweat and cigarette smoke as firemen laughed and belted out drunken lyrics to my Dad’s songs, hanging off of their wives arms. Some wore cowboy hats and pretended they were Phil Keys for a day, faking a terrible country accent while they sang. I shook my head at them, leaning against an amp case on the side stage, sipping from my water bottle.

The lights dimmed once again, everything going pitch black, as my Dad walked right past me and onto the stage, his pale wooden acoustic guitar hanging off of his right arm. His face had lit up at the calls of his name and the claps of appreciation, as he began with a single strum. He started the verse of his most popular song; “Big Blue Eyes” and the room became ecstatic with cheering and men belting out the beginning words.

”Big Blue Eyes” was written about my older sister, Lanie, of course. He wrote it for her the week after she passed away. That was how my Dad dealt with emotions; he sat down in his office, picked up that acoustic, and blended the music with the mess in his head. I believe this was why he was so popular in his form of music. People could honestly and full-heartedly relate to the lyrics Phil came up with. It was a way for my Dad to get away, and for every else to as well.

As I watched Phil on stage, I noticed him look up as he sang. He looked past the blinding stage lights, past the black bars holding the equipment, past the dark red bricks creating the ceiling. He was singing to Lanie. He was showing her that this was about her, that he would love her for the rest of his life and beyond. Phil was connecting with his favorite daughter as though no one was in the crowd, as if it was just him and Lanie in the room, all to themselves.

I felt a slight pang in my heart as I realized again that Lanie was never coming back. But the pang, I noted, was also because deep down I knew…I knew that I would never have a connection like that with my father. I knew Lanie was his favorite and he wishes with every fiber in his being that he could bring her back to him. He doesn’t want the daughter that he has left; he wants the one that he lost, because no one could replace Lanie Keys. Not even her younger and almost alike sister.

I wiped a lone tear from beneath my eyelid, not wanting to mess up the massive amounts of makeup I had shadowed onto my lid, and took a deep breath. I placed my water bottle onto the amp case and walked further backstage, looking for a way out. I felt my chest heavily rising and falling, as though I couldn’t get the weight off of it. My breathing was rapid and my heart was running a mile a minute. I felt the known panic attack coming and I needed to find fresh air quick. Running away from the many stage workers around me, I landed in front of a door labeled “ROOF” in white, thick paint.

I slammed the big black door open and ran up the stairs towards my destination as fast as my high-heeled sparkly gold shoes could carry me. I made it to the top, flinching when the large metal door slammed shut behind me. My hand clutched at my chest, hopelessly trying to calm my breathing and rapid heartbeat.

The beginning of fall had made the night a little windy and much cooler than a hot summer day, and I felt my reddish curls blow behind me, away from my face. I felt like I couldn’t remove the bricks constricting my chest, and I wanted to desperately make it stop. I took long, deep breaths and rapidly wiped the wet drops off my cheeks. My other hand was clutching the edge of the roof’s siding, as I bent over, regaining my composure.

Then I heard a noise behind me, like a person clearing their throat. As my heartbeats calmed down and my breathing became normal, I slowly turned my head to the noise. My eyes widened at the sight of a guy perched on the far side of the roof’s edge. He was sporting dark, messy midnight black hair that pushed up a little at the front of his face, without the help of hair product. From the shading of the bright streetlights I noticed his eyes were a light green, as they shone from beneath the lights. He was skinny, but muscular with his toned arms peeking from the lengths of his white, button-up collared shirt. The shirt was loosely tucked into a pair of loose fitting skinny black jeans, which ended beneath a pair of black converses.

”I didn’t know someone was-“

”No, it’s okay. I didn’t want to…interrupt you. I figured I would let you calm down first.”

His voice was rough, but smooth all at the same time, if that was even possible. He pushed up one of the sleeves of his shirt, his other hand holding a rusty brown bottle of beer. He sipped a little from it, still keeping his eyes on me.

”But, are you alright?” he questioned. It was strange to me how a boy whose name I didn’t even know asked me questions with such sincerity that my own parents hadn’t even used before.

I nodded my head lightly, my light red curls bouncing along my shoulders. My choice of a white summer dress and black stockings didn’t seem like such a good idea at the moment, because the cold fall night was seeping into my skin and I started to shiver a little. But at that moment, I didn’t know if the shiver was from the cold, or from the boy perched in front of me.

”Good,” he nodded, taking another sip from his drink. He had to have been older than me, I noted, if he had gotten his hands on alcohol. The theatre’s bar was ID only and very strict on whom they served to. That, or he was severely sneaky.

”I’m sorry. You probably wanted to be alone up here. I should go,” I said hurriedly. I started to quickly walk back to the big metal door and pulled at the old, golden knob. The door didn’t budge. I was locked up here. With a boy I didn’t know. In a summer dress, freezing my ass off. Oh hell.

”Locked out?” he asked, grinning beneath his bottle. I blushed, and nodded, pushing my bangs out of my eyes. I suddenly became very interested in my fresh manicure, trying with great difficulty not to look up at him, trying to conceal my embarrassment.

”I was too. Well I guess I still am now. That’s why I’m up here. I came up here for fresh air, and ended up having to stay here, with no way out,” he shrugged. He used a big hand to push some more of that messy lush of hair from his face.

”I’m guessing you needed fresh air too?” he inquired, raising a dark eyebrow. I only nodded in agreement, not sure where my voice had gone. The fact that this boy, a total stranger, had seen me at my worst at first glance was enough embarrassment for one night. I didn’t even know what kind of trouble my mouth could get me into if I spoke.

”Can you talk?” he laughed.

I went to nod my head again, but decided against it. He noticed my stupid action and chuckled again, throwing back another swig of his beer. Either he was boarder-line tipsy or I really was embarrassing the hell out of myself.

”I’m sorry. People don’t usually see me like,” I paused. “Like well that,” I said, pointing to the side of the roof where my previous meltdown had been.

”No worries. Trust me; I know how that,” he pointed where I had, “feels. You want a drink?”

He picked up another rusty brown colored bottle off of the ground that was next to about three other bottles and held it in my direction. One of the bottles was already empty next to him, and the second hadn’t been touched yet. I watched the closed bottle closely as I contemplated taking it for a second, knowing how odd it was to obtain a drink off of a stranger.

”Don’t worry. I wouldn’t drug you,” he smirked, shaking his head at me like he could read my mind. I nodded my head as he popped the top off for me and handed it back to me. I know how idiotic I must have been in that moment, excepting a drink from someone I didn’t know but it was closed with the top still on, and I really needed a somewhat escape from the catastrophe downstairs. I pushed it towards my lips and took a big sip. I wasn’t a stranger to drinking, considering Lanie and I would drink together in her room most times when our parents were away. And our parents were away a lot.

He smiled at my actions, noticing I wasn’t being lady like and taking baby sips from the bottle. After drinking almost half of the bottle in safe silence with this new boy, I looked up at him.

”Why did you need fresh air?” I blurted, suddenly curious about the guy before me.

”God,” he threw his head back, looking up at the glowing stars above us. “Do you know how long of a story that is?” he asked, looking back at me again.

I walked a little closer, sitting down many inches away from him on the side of the roof. “No, I wouldn’t know. I don’t even know who you are.”

I didn’t understand where my random bout of courage had come from. I usually didn’t open up well with others that I didn’t know. This was definitely a first.

”I’m a guy you probably wouldn’t care to know about,” he smirked, like this was a good thing that he thought so low of himself. After taking another sip of beer, he looked in front of him; staring at something I couldn’t grasp in the dark night.

”And why is that?” I asked, playing with a curl, twirling it around my finger.

”You see, I’m not a nice guy,” he said, shaking his head. He pushed more hair back again, sighing.

”Still not understanding why…” I prodded, wanting to know more.

”Let’s just leave it at that,” he murmured. Following his statement came another few moments of silence until he looked up at me again.

”What about you? Why did you need the fresh air?” his grassy colored eyes were suddenly upon my own and I felt like I was under inspection.

I cleared my throat. “Um…you see, my Dad’s kind of the guy who’s playing right now. It’s a long story, but I needed a break…from all of…that,” I gestured towards the door.

His eyes widened a little. “No way! Your Phil Keys’ daughter? My Mom’s like in love with that dude…” he shook his head, laughing lightly. At the mere mention of his Mom his whole face lit up instantly, the grassy colored orbs shining.

I nodded my head. “I’m guessing you’re a firefighter?”

He stiffened a little, his hand clutching the bottle tighter. That glowing face disappeared suddenly and was replaced with a wall; a wall to certainly keep me back out. “No,” he said, clearing his throat.

”A firefighter’s son, then?” I prodded further.
  
His body didn’t move, as he still remained stiff. “Mhm,” he nodded, not going into any sort of detail. He chugged another sip from his bottle.

”I’m sorry. I just…noticed your tags,” I said, pointing to his neck. I embarrassed myself more, like I knew I would have. He probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore because I was such a sorry excuse for a conversationalist.

”It’s alright. You were curious.”

The man in front of me gulped another large amount of alcohol from the rusty bottle and placed the empty remainder of it down onto the siding. He played with the rim, running his long finger around the opening again and again, looking as though he was contemplating something hard.

”I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean-“

”What about you? What’s with the tattoo?” he asked, cutting off my apology and pointing to my wrist. He was referring to the solid black, infinity symbol etched on my wrist, with the words “and beyond” intersecting between a line on the symbol.

It was my turn to put up a front this time, and I swallowed almost noticeably. I pulled my arm back so it was resting against my lap, away from his sight.

”It’s nothing. Just some silly tattoo,” I lied blatantly. He already saw me break down. I wasn’t about to let some strange boy into my personal life even more. 

I studied him as the safe, oddly comforting silence came upon us again. He had a strong jaw line and slightly full lips. He had dark eyelashes surrounding the grassy colored eyes and almost flawless skin. It was strange to me how a boy who seemed so perfect could look so sad.

”I’m Evan, by the way,” he noted suddenly, glancing up at me, then back down to the bottle again.

”Bailey,” I whispered, interested in his motions and what his thoughts were running to.

His phone went off then, making a small chirp. He picked it out of the back pocket of his skinny jeans and smiled small.

”My little brother,” he smiled. “He gets his first phone and he’s suddenly worried about every place I’ve gone too. I’m going to see if he can come unlock the door for us,” he said to me as he tapped away in reply on his touch screen.

As he placed the phone back in his pocket, I watched him closely. There was something about this guy, something I couldn’t quite grasp onto yet. I suddenly became so interested in what he was about, what he was thinking, what made this gorgeous boy so sad.

”If Phil’s your Dad, is that girl he talks about in that song my Mom always sings…your sister? I mean it’s obviously not about his wife. It has to be about his daughter.”

”How do you know it’s not about me?” I asked, raising a thin eyebrow.

”Because your eyes aren’t baby blue,” he deadpanned. “They’re hazel,” he looked up at me with his own grassy green eyes, not letting me let go of the eye contact. I felt goose bumps rise on my arms as the wind blew around us. This time, I knew the bumps weren’t from the cold.

Moments later I jumped as I heard a voice.

”Evan!” came a child’s voice from the direction of the door. He was only around three and a half to four feet tall. He had light blonde hair, spiked up just like his said brother’s and baby blue eyes to match. The image of my smiling sister came to mind as he held open the door, smiling widely at the man before me.

”Hey bud,” he grinned widely. This was the first time I’ve seen him smile like that in the thirty minutes I’d been up here with him. He quickly walked over to the boy, picking him up and holding him on his side. I smiled at the cute image before me. He looked over at me, gesturing for me to come over.

”Don’t want you locked up here again. You coming, Bailey?” he asked. I nodded, setting my bottle down next to his that he had left on the roof’s siding, clicking slowly over to the boys in my high heels.

As we made our way downstairs, we departed without goodbyes as the little boy pulled Evan over in the opposite direction. I was about to mumble a goodbye of some sort when I ran straight into my mother, looking highly displeased.

”Bailey, where have you been?” she asked, her voice raising a few octaves as she spoke.

”I needed a bit of fresh air,” I mumbled over the loud bass thumping from my Dad’s still ongoing show.

”Your father needed you to help the guitar tech. You’re the only who could help him. God knows I know nothing about those damned instruments,” she said, shaking her blonde bob of hair back and forth. Even at a concert, she was dressed like an uptight lawyer. She was sporting her usual black pants suit and clicking witch heels.

”I’m sorry, I’ll go help him now,” I said, moving around her to the graying guitar tech on the side stage. She grabbed my arm with her skinny, tan fingers and pulled me back.

”It’s too late for all of that,” she hissed. “The Warren’s are making a speech for one of the firefighters. Your father’s basically done after this song.”

”Sorry, Mom,” I mumbled, looking down at the shiny wooden floors beneath my feet.

She waved her hand and made her way to the dressing room in the back, away from all of the noise that she clearly hated.

I sighed, throwing my hair behind me and walking over to the side stage, watching my Dad finish his last song, strumming the final chords. Everyone clapped and screamed loudly for him, but he shushed them all into the microphone to get their attention.

”Thank yall so much for all the support!” he drawled with his heavy country accent. “Now here are the Warren’s. Give it up!” he said, raising his arms for the theatre to make noise for the said family.

My Dad patted my shoulder with his free hand as he walked past me, and straight to my Mom in the dressing room. I stayed put, not wanting to be near either of them. I waited for the Warren’s to take the stage and my eyes widened at the sight before me. The man from the roof and his blonde little brother came forward, along with a woman with short, dark hair like her older son’s.

”You know Greg loves all of you guys!” the woman said into the microphone. “Thanks so much for raising all of this money for his Ladder 24 foundation boys!”

”I love you Daddy!” the little boy yelled into the microphone from Evan’s side, looking up at the ceiling like my Dad had before when singing for Lanie.

Evan just smiled, his eyes scanning over all of the men hooting and cheering for the family. But from a close glance you could tell there was a trace of sadness hidden beneath his features. Where was this supposed Greg Warren?

What am I missing?