Page 8 of Songbird: Black Kite
“Please, Tom. Don’t do anything foolish.”
“Foolish?” he spat, pausing his fork full of meatloaf and gravy halfway to his face. “Is it foolish to want to be paid fairly for my labor? Is it foolish to want to be treated with respect for doing a hard day’s work?”
“No, Tom,” she said meekly, and I cringed.
It never used to be like this. Why did it have to be like this?
“No, it’s damn well not!” he finished with a shout, and no one spoke again until his plate was empty of his second helping.
Once he had settled on the couch, remote in hand as he flipped between sports stations, Jasmine and I cleared the table quickly, packing any leftovers into containers for Dad’s lunch tomorrow before we disappeared into our rooms under the guise of having homework. It was still early in the year, but it was high school, so there was still a little that I needed to finish before tomorrow. Sliding on my headphones, I plugged them into my stereo and turned on my music.
The latest album byBlack Kitewas killer. I loved the dark sound they always seemed to have, the heavy beat of the drums and Hawk's deep, growling voice seeming to sink into my bones. So much of the most popular music today was just sobright, the singers’ voices sounding like they were hopped up on sugar all the time.
The music that really spoke to me was darker than that, the words and the tone expressing all the shit that I seemed to be feeling these days.
That was whyHollowwas my favorite song. Because it said exactly how I felt about my life right now. That who I was on the outside was just a shell. That the person I wanted to be, the person hiding on the inside, wasn’t someone I thought people would like, so I kept her tucked away in the dark, waiting until it was safe for her to come out.
And the way that Hawk Jameson sang those words? Incredible. I grew up on rock music, with dad listening to the classics likeBon JoviandMotley Crewwhile he worked the grill on a Saturday evening, butBlack Kitemusic just felt different, and I wasn’t sure why.
All I knew was that when I put my headphones on and listened to Hawk sing, I didn’t feel alone anymore. I knew that somewhere out there was a person who felt exactly the same way that I did.
Even if he was miles and miles away.
Looking at the envelope in my binder one more time, I smiled, hoping that when he read my letter, he’d know that there was someone out there who felt like he did, and maybe that would mean something to him, too.
Chapter six
Hawk
Twenty-One Years Ago
“Oh,god.Yes!Fuckme harder, Hawk.”
Christ, I fucking hated it when they talked.
Like, I got it. They wanted to fuck me. Theyallwanted to fuck me. But did they have to be so goddamn loud about it? I was tryin’ to bust a nut here.
Changing position on the small bed, I leaned over the chick beneath me and wove my hand into the hair on the back of her head, grimacing at the sticky, crusty feel to it.
There was no way this bitch was a natural blonde.
She moaned louder, like she was tryin’ to make sure everyone on the bus knew whose dick was inside her, but I was about done with this shit. Pressing her face into the messy blankets, I snapped my hips forward as fast as I could manage, my hair falling in my face as I pushed myself to come as fast as possible and be done with it. Staring down at the woman, I watched as the ash from my smoke flaked off, drifting slowly down and landing on the small of her back, the light gray standing out against the odd plastic dress thing she was wearing. It didn’t look comfortable, but what the fuck did I know? I had just hiked it up when I bent her over, smirking at the fact that she wasn’t wearing any panties underneath.
Didn’t seem entirely hygienic, but fuck, I lived on a bus with three other dudes for the majority of the year. Hygienic went out the window a long time ago.
Now that her face was buried in the mattress, I was able to focus, delivering four more rapid, solid thrusts before pulling out, whipping off the rubber, and coming all over her ass.
For a second, I just stared, wondering what the fuck the point was anymore. I didn’t know this woman; I didn’t know any of them. I just showed up where Mick told me to, picked the chick with the biggest tits, and did my thing. She would pant and moan and tell me how amazing I was—even when I wasn’t—then I’d show her the door and light up a blunt.
Used to be, only two things got my heart racing: performing and fucking.
In that order.
Now, though? It felt like I was just pretending, going through the motions on stage and in the bedroom, not because I was feelin’ it or whatever, but because I was supposed to be doing it. Because it was what I’d always done.
Because I couldn’t think of anything better to do.
Blinking away the depressing thoughts, I pulled the smoke from my lips, crushing in the ashtray next to the bed, then reached over and grabbed the end of the plastic dress and pulled it back down over the chick’s ass, smirking when it smeared my come around as I did. She made a sound of protest, but didn’t actually move to stop me, so whatever.
