Page 132 of Songbird: Black Kite
“Here!” came Cooper’s muffled voice from down the hall, and I could have cried in relief. “We’re here.”
Her bedroom door clicked open, and Cooper stuck her head out, followed by a hesitant looking Jillian. Both girls appeared fine, but shaken up, arms crossed over their bodies and their faces pale.
“Coop,” I said softly, holding my arms open for her. “Baby, what happened?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, her body trembling. “Jillian and I were watching a movie. Then someone rang the doorbell.” I raised my eyes to Hawk’s, his face a thundercloud as he took in our frightened daughter.
“What happened, Cooper?” I encouraged, stroking her hair as I held her close. She was almost the same height as I was, but in her frightened state, she clung to me like a toddler.
“We didn’t answer the door, Mom. Like you told us. We didn’t.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jillian nodding emphatically, her small frame curled around herself as she stood off to the side, alone. Holding out one arm, I waved her over. She only hesitated a second before she flung herself at us, and I clutched her to me, rocking gently back and forth like I used to do when Coop was little.
“But they wouldn’t go away. They started banging on the door, then kicking it. They were shouting awful words. Lifting her head, she looked at me as tears started to roll down her cheeks. “Words about you, Mom.” My eyebrows went up in surprise. “They called you a groupie whore.”
She could barely get the words out, she was shaking so hard, and Jillian began to outright sob.
“Oh, baby.” I kissed her forehead, and she only cried harder. “It’s alright, girls. Everything’s alright now.”
It took a while to calm them both down, but once they had, I settled them both into Cooper’s bed, where they snuggled up close. Both girls assured me they were fine, but they also insisted that the bedroom door stay open a crack and the hall light stay on.
Making my way back to the living room, I found Hawk standing at the window, talking quietly into his phone.
“Alright, Mick. Yeah. Yeah, I got ya.” Walking up behind him, I saw the moment he caught my reflection in the darkened glass, his whole demeanor shifting as he watched me approach. “I said I got it, Mick. Fuck. Tell Charlie what time we fly out, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ending the call, Hawk pocketed his phone before he reached up and tugged the heavy curtain across the window, shutting out the night. When he turned to me, his face was closed off, giving nothing away as he waited for me to speak.
“You’re leaving.”
It wasn’t a question; I could see it in his expression.
“Yeah.”
“Alright.”
Fine. I was fine.
“That was Mick, our manager.”
I blinked. I thoughtBlack Kitehad broken up. What use was a manager to a defunct band?
“Okay.”
“He said there are photos. Of us. From tonight. People tagged me in a few pics and videos, but no one really knows who you are yet.”
He was talking, but my brain barely registered the words, focused instead on the simple fact that this—whatever this was—was already over.
I was an idiot. Of course, he was leaving. What celebrity in his right mind would be caught dead in this shithole of a town? No, it made sense for him to want to distance himself from it.
From us.
“Bird,” he said, taking a step toward me, but he froze when I stepped back. “Bird, I don’t want to go.”
“It’s fine,” I replied, because it was.
I hadn’t let myself get attached. I hadn’t let my foolish, daydreaming heart run away with me, painting a future I knew better than to hope for.
Nope. Not me. I hadn’t doneanyof that shit.
