Play (Stage Dive 2)

Without further ado, Neil swung Lori up into his arms and carried her off. I held my hand up to Mal and nodded, hoping he’d get the message that I’d follow them and do what I could. He must have, because he nodded back at me and then sat down again.

“Come on,” said Ev, grabbing my hand. We ran after Mal’s parents, ducking and weaving around people and equipment. Lena met us just outside the room we’d been in before, backstage. Beside her stood an unhappy Adrian, but then I doubted I’d ever see a happy one.

“Let me know if you want me to call a doctor,” she said.

“Thanks.”

Neil had lain Lori down on a couch and was holding a glass of juice to her lips. A bird would have drunk more than she seemed to. Her skin was pale and paper thin, her eyes dazed.

“There’s no need to fuss,” she said chidingly to Neil. When she saw me, her mouth fell open in obvious dismay. “Oh, Anne, you didn’t need to come. You were enjoying the show.”

“They must be nearly finished. And Mal would want me to come and check on you, I’m sure.”

“Well, you’ve checked. I’m fine. Go on back now.”

Fuck. I knew all about fine. Care of my mom’s early example, I was the Queen of f**king fine. I perched on the edge of the couch while Neil squatted near the end. Up this close, her face was tinged gray.

“I know you’re sick, Lori. Mal told me.”

The air hissed out of her. “I told him I didn’t want everyone knowing and carrying on. Its life, sweetie, we all have to go sometime.”

“He said you had a month or two,” I said. Lori and Neil shared a look I did not like one tiny bit. “Is there something you need to tell your son?”

“It might be less than that now. We saw the doctor before in Spokane before we left to come here.” Her chin hiked high. “But it makes no difference. I’m not spending my final days in a hospital.”

Something stuck in my throat. “Your final days?”

“Weeks,” she amended. “They think another week or two at best. We’ll head home tomorrow afternoon. I’d like to be there …”

Neil inhaled hard and turned away. His hand slid over his wife’s, fingers intermeshing.

“You have to tell him,” I said. There were razor blades in my throat, barbed wire, nails, assorted hardware, and sharp implements. It was wildly uncomfortable.

“I suppose you’re right.”

With a grunt, Neil gave her fingers a final squeeze and rose to his feet. “I’ll let him know when he comes offstage. Can’t ask Anne to keep it from him.”

“No,” agreed Lori. “Just, help me sit up. Everyone will come in and I’ll be lying here like a fool.”

This wasn’t happening. Shit.

Carefully, Neil and I helped Lori to sit upright. Then he went off to wait for his son. I took over juice duties. At least holding the glass gave me something to do.

“I’m glad he has you,” said Lori, straightening the skirt of her pale green dress. “I know I’ve said it before. But my going will hit him hard. He acts all loud and tough, but he’s got a soft underbelly, my son has. He’s going to need you, Anne.”

She took my spare hand in hers. Mine was sweaty, hers was not.

“I really like your son,” I said. Because I had to say something. So, of course it was woefully inadequate as per the ordinary when it came to feelings.

“I know you do, sweetie. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“Crazy eyes?”

“Yes.” She laughed softly. “Crazy eyes.”

Out front, the crowd roared and the stamping of feet almost shook the building. Funny, back here, the music was a mild thrumming sort of noise at most. Negligible. Or maybe it was care of the pounding in my skull. I could feel a headache coming on. This whole situation was beyond heavy, the weight of it crippling. There was no making this right or fixing it.

People started flowing into the room. A long table full of drinks and food had been set up. Apparently an after party was planned for right here. Adrian stood by the door, shaking hands and laughing loudly at the shit people said. It was all so surreal. Somewhere out there, Neil was probably telling Mal, right now.

“Everything will be fine.” Lori patted my hand. Funny, the way she clung to my favorite word. Perhaps there was something to the belief of finding a partner who reflected your parent. Which was fantastically creepy and wrong. I really didn’t want to think about it after all. Mal was nothing like my father.

Then he stormed in. Mal, not my dad. A T-shirt was wrapped around his right hand, blood dripped from his fingers.

“What the hell happened?” I jumped out of my seat, running toward him.

Neil returned to Lori’s side. Jimmy headed straight for the table laden with booze and gourmet goodies. He dug into the big bucket filled with foreign beers with a single-minded dedication.

“Jimmy. What are you doing?” Lena grabbed at his arm.

With a look of pure annoyance, Jimmy leaned down, whispered in her ear. Lena’s gaze darted to Mal and then dropped to his hand. She looked up and down the table, searching for something.

“Mal?” The scent of him was a kick to my gut, same as always. But what the hell was going on?

“Hey, pumpkin. No big deal.” He didn’t meet my eyes. He also studiously avoided his mom’s concerned gaze.

Jimmy returned with his hands full. He and Lena had turned a linen table cloth into an ice pack. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Slowly, Mal unwound the bloody T-shirt. Beneath it, his knuckles were raw, open wounds. His jaw clenched as he held the ice to his hand.

The managerial jerk, Adrian, elbowed his way into our circle. “Mal, buddy. I hear there was an incident upstairs?”

“Ah, yeah, Adrian, you mind getting that straightened out? Mal accidentally put a hole in the wall. Just one of those things, yeah?” David put a hand to the man’s shoulder, leading him away.

I highly f**king doubted it was an accident, given the timing.

“We need to get someone in to look at his hand,” said Adrian.

They kept talking but I tuned them out. I put my hand to Mal’s face, willing him to look at me. “Hey.”

His eyes were going to give me nightmares, the misery in them. He leaned forward, caught my mouth with his, kissing me fully, frantically. His tongue invaded my mouth, demanding everything. And I gave it to him. Of course I did.

At last he calmed, resting his forehead against mine. “’S’all f**ked.”