Page 8 of Cougar

I call her Jay.

Marcus called her his Jaybird.

She was our one and only child, but she couldn’t have been more perfect. Beautiful, kind, graceful, smart, and talented like her father. A daddy’s girl.

“Before he passed,” Jay continues, “my dad said to me, ‘People come into our lives for a reason, no matter how long they stay. It’s fate.’ Now I’m not going to lie. I’m upset with God for taking him away from me—from us—but I’m also thankful to God for choosing Marcus to be my father, and I’m grateful for every single day he was in my life. I’d give anything for one more day, one more minute, but that’s not how God works. I ask God every day, ‘Why him?’ It’s not fair, but the saying is true. Life isn’t fair. I’m sure every one of you has had those thoughts if you’ve lost someone you love. Sometimes I feel like this is all just a bad dream, that any moment now, I’ll wake up to the sound of him strumming his guitar. I keep expecting to find him in the kitchen, dancing in his boxers and singing about making pancakes and bacon.”

I smile, blinking back the tears. Marcus made her pancakes and bacon for breakfast almost every morning and it’s still her favorite breakfast.

“He was funny and entertaining. He was always happy. Music was his remedy for everything. If I was sleepy, he’d grab his guitar and sing me a rock-a-by.” She smiles fondly. “That was his version of a lullaby. If I was moody, he’d crank up the music, grab me by the hands, and we’d dance until we were breathless and laughing. There was never a dull moment in the King house. I still remember the day I wrote my first song. I’ll never forget the prideful look in his eyes, or the smile that stretched across his face when I performed it for him and my mom. That look inspired me to embrace my talent. And in return, I was rewarded with that look often.”

She pauses to suck in a shaky breath. “Marcus King was just a man who loved his family. Music was his life, but family was his everything. He was an amazing father and husband. I can only hope that one day I’ll be lucky enough to have a man love me as much as my dad loved my mom. What I’ve learned from this experience, this loss, is that at the end of the day, we’re all human. Our titles, our social status, our money—none of that stuff matters when it’s our time to go. I know he’s in a better place, and he’s at peace. I’m relieved that he no longer feels pain. Call me selfish, but that doesn’t make me miss him any less, nor does it dull the pain of having to let him go. A pain so fierce it hurts to breathe because my heart is broken.” Tears begin to spill down her cheeks. Mine, too. I’ve done my best to hold it together this long, but watching my child fall apart is my breaking point.

Jayla’s therapist, Dr. Ramos, rises from her seat and makes her way over to the steps leading up to the podium. Marcus hired Dr. Ramos to help our family—mostly Jayla—cope with his illness and, eventually, his death.

Jayla gives a slight shake of her head, silently telling Dr. Ramos she’s not finished, before she turns her teary gaze on me. Her chest heaves as she continues. “I speak for my mom as well when I tell you that my dad was the moon in the night sky. The sun on a cloudy day. He was our life. Our world. He was our everything.” And then she breaks. “I’ll miss you, Daddy,” she croaks before bursting into tears.

I start to stand, to go to her, but my father wraps his arms around me to hold me back. “Give her some space.”

Dr. Ramos hurries up the steps, curls her arm around Jay, and leads her off the stage as she whispers something in her ear. Jay nods as she returns to her seat between her two best friends, Evangeline and Lucas.

Andrew “Drew” Wild, Marcus’s best friend and bandmate, stands and makes his way to the podium. Andrew and Marcus met when they were just kids growing up in a foster home. The two formed their band, Royal Mayhem, when they were just seniors in high school. Drew was the first of Marcus’s band members I’d come face-to-face with.

“Who are you?” a deep male voice asked from behind me. I gasped as I whirled around to find Andrew Wild, half-naked and covered in tattoos, leaning against the kitchen island, eyeing me skeptically beneath his shaggy blond hair.

“Oh! I’m Em—”

“She’s off-limits,” Marcus interrupted as he skipped down the stairs. He slugged Drew in the arm as he passed him on the way over to me. “Put some clothes on.”

Drew scowled. “Since when do you care?”

“Since now,” Marcus snapped. “You don’t need to be walking around half naked in front of my girl.”

His girl?My heart somersaulted in my chest. He was a hot rock star and I was his girl.

Drew quirked a brow. “Your girl?”

Marcus wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder. “Yeah. This is my girl, Emerson.”

“So you’re the reason he missed—”

“No,” Marcus cut him off, and I felt the green-eyed monster stir inside me.

Andrew grinned, then extended his hand to me. “It’s nice to meet you, Emerson. I’m Andrew Wild, but you can call me Drew.” Drew was a lot like Marcus in certain ways. He was kind and genuine, and he liked me.

When the time came to meet the other two band members, Tommy and Chaz, they weren’t as welcoming as Drew.

Drew leans forward, resting his palms on the podium, and clears his throat. “Good morning. I’m Andrew Wild. If you don’t know who I am, then you didn’t know Marcus.” He lowers his head and blows out a breath. “I don’t have anything written, and honestly, I think my goddaughter said it all.” He gestures to Jay. “So I’m just gonna wing it.” He sucks in a deep breath and blows it out. “Marcus, I’m gonna miss you, brother. You impacted so many lives, including mine, with your wisdom, talent, courage, and your heart. I’m so proud to call you my best friend. My family. My mentor. My bandmate. And my hero. I love you, man. I’ll see you in the next life.” He throws his hands up in the universal rock sign. “Godspeed.”

* * *

After the service, a small group of our close friends and family arrive at the house to pay their respects personally. The room is crowded, and I’m struggling to breathe as one by one they make their way over to offer their condolences.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”Me, too.

“He was a wonderful man.”The best.

“He’ll be missed.”Immensely.

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