Twisting Fate Read online

  When my eyes lock with hers she gasps. Why do I keep getting these strange reactions here when people see me? I'm starting to get paranoid I have something on my face. I try to shake it off, but maybe I need to make a bathroom break as soon as Riggan gets back. "Three shots of black label, please."

  "Are you kin to her?" My forehead wrinkles in confusion at the question. Who is her?

  "Who do you mean?" She is starting to look uncomfortable. She looks side to side and then back at me.

  She is holding her round tray next to her ribs and her drink pad is laying on top. She puts the cap end of the pen between her teeth and then points it at the wall behind me. I turn to look at the wall to my left and stop breathing. I do mean literally. I can't breathe. Hanging on the wall over the table is a large framed picture of a girl in a coral, off the shoulder dress, and tan cowgirl boots leaning over an old fashioned wooden fence. She is behind the fence looking straight at the camera. The background is a luscious green and the leaves of a large oak tree drape over causing a shade in lighting. It's absolutely beautiful. Above the frame is the name of the girl in the photo.

  I'm sure you're wondering why it is that I can't breathe and there are two reasons. The first being that the name residing on the wall is Abby Carter and the second and main reason is...She. Looks. Just. Like. Me.

  My hand instantly goes over my mouth. The similarities between the two of us are scary. The only real difference is that her hair is straight, mine curly, and she has baby blue eyes instead of bright green. I can't take my eyes away. We look like we could be sisters. "What happened to her?"

  I never look back at the cocktail waitress, but I have to know what happened to her. Before she answers, though, I hear Riggan's voice. "It's not important." When I look at him his eyes are dilated and he just stares at me. "Don't you have some shots to get, Sara?"

  He doesn't sound too happy. "Sure, Riggan. I'm sorry I didn't know she was with you. It just caught me off guard is all. We all miss..."

  "Enough!" Did he really just shout at her? What the heck happened to him in the few minutes he was gone? She scampers off like a dog with its tail between its legs. It is now registering why everyone keeps looking at me like I've grown a third eyeball.

  "Why are you being such a dick? She didn't even do anything, Riggan. I don't remember you being this way when I met you at the tattoo shop." He pulls out a cigarette and drops the box on the table in front of him. He lights it and says nothing; just inhales and stares at me.

  The girl sets the shots down on the table without saying a word and turns to leave. He exhales, picks up shot glass number one and presses it to his pink lips. Turning it back, he drains the contents and slams the glass back on the table. I watch as he does the same with glass two and three.

  Whatever. This is stupid.

  I start to get up to leave when he grabs my hand. "Don't. Stay. I can't talk about it, Kinzleigh. I'm not looking for anything but a friend. In time maybe I can tell you, but right now I just need someone that understands the need for companionship accompanied with silence. I'm sorry for being a prick. I'll work on it, but can you really blame me," he says as he points at the girl on the wall. “It’s a little difficult to look at you without surfacing things that have been buried for a long time now.”

  I look down at his hand wrapped around mine, then back at his eyes. They are pleading, and instantly I sit back down. I don't really want to be pregnant in a bar, but how can you turn down someone begging you for help. What if I was the difference in someone choosing to live and die? That thought plagues my mind now that I've been introduced into the world of darkness, only shades of black and gray present. I know some of the thoughts that enter into your mind when you're grieving over the loss of someone you loved, someone that owned every part of you. I know how important friends are in a time that you have so much pain and misery residing inside you, the world seems like a cruel place.

  "Okay, Riggan. I'll stay, but don't leave me in the dark anymore. If we're going to be friends then you need to tell me these things. I know there is some things you can't talk about, but some things you can. This," I point to the photo on the wall that still looks like my long lost twin, "Is something you could have talked to me about."

  For the first time, I see him look at the photo since I've been here. By look I don’t mean glance, but study, and the look on his face as he takes her in crushes me to watch. He looks like he's fighting something bigger than himself.

  He turns back a few more shots and I'm starting to worry he's had too much. Each time he empties the glasses they are replaced with more. I have no idea where he's putting all of it. He's like a tank. He isn't saying much as he drowns himself in the numbing agent before him, so I decide to people watch. What else does a sober person do in a bar? There are various people on the dance floor grinding against each other and the bar is full. Bodies linger against every wall, crack, and crevice. You recognize the wasted with the scenes of inappropriate groping on amongst the rest of the bystanders.

  "She died. A few years back." I'm now at full alert from his comment. I had a feeling, but was hoping for a different outcome. When I turn to look at him his forehead is resting on his wrist. "I can't talk about more than that. It hurts too much. I just can't. I need to keep it buried deep," he says, slurring a little as he talks indicating he is intoxicated. “If I don’t I’ll drown from the guilt; I won’t make it.”

  I'm not sure what to say. Do I ask questions? Do I act like I didn't hear anything at all, or do I try to comfort him? I'm sitting here battling the pros and cons of each in my mind and about to say something when I don't get the chance.

  "Riggan fuckin' Henley. Is that you?" The voice is echoing as the person that owns it gets closer. The guy is about mid height and built. He clearly works out from the size of his arms. His canary yellow shirt fits snug against his muscular, tanned frame and his jeans hang low on his hips. He has a leather band snapped around his wrist similar to the one Riggan wears and a black studded belt. You can hear him walking across the floor in his combat boots that are left unlaced. He has short, sandy blonde, spiky hair similar to Riggan's. You can tell it’s gelled on top of his head and he also has an eyebrow ring. I take in his solid frame as he stops at the table and slaps Riggan on the back.

  Riggan turns at the contact and I start to notice a hint of a smile as he notices who it is, but he quickly squanders it. "Maddox Burns. No shit, man. What the hell have you been up to? It's been a while." They bump fists and the guy sits in the stool on the other side of him after pulling a pair of drumsticks from his back pocket. He lays them on the table and that's when his eyes set on me.

  "Who's she?" I'm looking into eyes the same shade as mine. He doesn't sound too welcoming as he asks the question. It's almost as if he doesn't believe what he's seeing. I'm starting to think this whole night was a bad idea.

  "A friend. Maddox this is Kinzleigh. Kinzleigh, Maddox." When he looks at my face again he downs a shot and removes another cigarette from the pack, lighting it.

  "No shit. The resemblance is insane and you brought her here on the same..." He closes his eyes and shakes his head, I assume, to clear it from the thoughts that are running rampant.

  What's so special about today?

  "What can I say, I thought it might be easier to deal." From the way he's sucking down that cigarette it doesn't look like he's dealing with whatever it is too well.

  "Why haven't you come here, man? You know you should have at least come on this day. It's been four years. You just left us all high and dry at our peak. Why don't you come back to the band? We need you. You don't have to torment yourself forever." Why is it that I feel like I'm eavesdropping?

  "I can't do that; more than that, I won't. That's final." He keeps his face blank as he stares at the photo in front of him. You can see the longing in his eyes.

  "Maddox, get your ass on stage." We all turn around at the voice amplified over the speakers. It's a tall, slender guy with chocolate brown
hair on the longer side of short. It isn't long enough to bind, but it flips out over his ears. If he’s muscular his muscles are hidden underneath his clothing. A guitar is hanging around his neck. He doesn't really fit the mold I would consider for a rock band with his preppy choice for clothing. Maybe I should stop stereotyping altogether.

  They all look clean cut, but rough around the edges; light with a shade of dark. "Be right up," Maddox yells out and looks at Riggan. "Come on. Just one night for old times sake. You owe her that much, Riggan. Besides, you know Landon doesn't like to sing anyway. We need our singer back, even if only for the important tonight holds.”

  Riggan looks back and forth between the stage and the photo hanging on the wall as if he’s considering it before he finally stands. "I'm giving you one night and I'm locking it away, forever. I'm not that guy anymore. He was buried the day she was."

  I'm a little stunned at what just went down before me. He's a singer? I guess that part doesn't surprise me. I knew he had a voice that had to be worthy, but I never thought I'd hear it. "You good here," he asks.

  I nod and he walks toward the stage with Maddox alongside him. When they climb the few steps to the top, he walks to the mic stand. "Hey," he says and the girls go wild. They begin chanting his name and gathering on the floor as if we're at a concert; screaming like they’re welcoming back their biggest fan. "Bear with me, it's been a while since I've been up here." They only scream louder the more he speaks.

  Maddox grabs a guitar off a stand in the back and brings it to Riggan. When he sees the beautiful, white, polished guitar he looks a little caught off guard. I recognize it from the poster. That only tells me one thing; the poster was specially made for him. The guitar stands out and is the color that represents purity. The strap is a baby blue along with the strings. It doesn't really go with the theme of the band in all its darkness represented by the members, but I have a feeling there is a story behind it.

  He looks as if he's afraid to touch it, but finally grasps it at the neck and removes it from Maddox's hand. Riggan places his opposite hand under the bottom and turns it in a rotation to admire all sides. It's hard to see, but it looks like something is engraved in the back. Riggan looks at Maddox and he nods a silent answer to the question asked in code, turning to walk in the direction of the drums.

  Riggan places the strap over his head securing the guitar in place. He reaches in his pocket, removing something. As he places it to his lips I can see it's a guitar pick. It looks zebra print. That's an odd guitar pick for a guy to have. Kissing it, he says low, "Always for you, Abby. Rest in peace, baby. I'll always love you and miss you." He wasn't aiming to speak into the microphone, but it still picked up the words and the crowd goes silent.

  He strums it for a minute and turns a few knobs as he tunes the guitar. He looks across the crowd and then over at me before he starts strumming a solo I actually recognize. One by Metallica. The words start and I sit quietly as I listen to his voice sing the opening line. "I can't remember anything. Can't tell if this is true or dream."

  I have the weirdest feeling of Deja Vu as I watch him get lost in the lyrics. His voice is beautiful. The poem I read in the bathroom hits me full force, almost knocking the breath from my lungs. I can feel exactly as she felt minus the love for him, since of course, I don't love Riggan. Everything else, though, is so raw: the crowd, the band, and the music.

  When he sings you can feel his connection to the music. He looks like he's lost in the lyrics as if they hold a deeper meaning to him; his lifeline. He closes his eyes and sings from his soul. All of his emotions radiate from him as he sings each stanza. I can feel what he's feeling: sadness, guilt, anger, and pain.

  Watching him makes me think of Konnor. Since the incident with Sophia happened I see him jotting things down in a notepad, lyrics to the way he feels. I wonder if they would hit it off. Maybe I should take him to the tattoo parlor next time he comes home. Riggan did say he wanted to be friends.

  The waitress from earlier walks over to the table and touches my arm to get my attention. "Can I get you anything to drink, Sweetie?"

  "A sprite, please." I can't take my eyes off of the performance. He's so talented as he plays the solos perfectly and on key. It's sad that he can't do this anymore. It’s easily pointed out that this is what those guys are made to do, but I know exactly how it feels to give up a dream, the one thing that you’re great at.

  I've basically given up my dream to cheer. I'll be lucky if I get to open up the cheer company I want. I can't travel aside having a baby and full time job. The reason I never wanted to settle down before was because I wouldn't have the time necessary for that life. You have to find a way to support yourself wanting to be a cheerleader in the NFL since that doesn't pay the bills. Now I won't have that kind of time, because I'll be bouncing a baby on my knee.

  I don't know how long I've been sitting here, but they have played through an entire list of songs. I've noticed the other band members gleaming from ear to ear as they watch him sing. It's like they've been waiting for this moment for a long time.

  Riggan stops as he finishes the most recent song and looks into the crowd. "Well guys, it's been fun, but this is last call and last song. It's been real, but this is the end. Enjoy it, remember it, because it will be no more."

  He looks down at the guitar and begins playing the final song, Breaking Inside by Shinedown. As he sings the song one particular line stands out when he sings it. "You know there ain't no comin' back, when you're still carrying the past. You can't erase, separate."

  As I hear those words I freeze. It was like someone pulling the trigger to the gun aimed at my head. Everything I've worked so hard to move on from crashes down on top of me. The wall that I've slowly built up to hold back the memories of Breyson and me along with everything that has happened was just shattered, everything flooding out.

  I can't do this.

  I stand and begin running, weaving through the bodies, heading for the doors that lead outside. I feel like I can barely breathe; deflated lungs. The tears begin pouring down my face. I can't see where I'm going, but that doesn't stop me. Riggan calls out “Kinzleigh,” over the speakers.

  I can't think of anything but running. This has always been an escape for me when nothing else worked. I tear through the glass doors, freeing myself from the confinements of this building. Luckily, a gush of air chills my face. I feel like I can breathe a little easier, but not well enough.

  "Kinzleigh! Wait up." I look behind me to see Riggan running out the door. "Kinzleigh, stop!" I never let up speed. I can't. When I get like this I have to find an outlet for the anxiety. On top of everything else, I haven't felt Breyson in a while. I'm not sure why, but I want it back. I need it back. As if everything happened in a split second I hear the horn of a car and that's the last thing I remember.

  Chapter 11

  Breyson

  I get a sudden pain in my chest that almost brings me to my knees. Placing my hand over my heart I bend forward.

  What the hell?

  You know when you get that feeling something bad is about to happen or has happened? Well right now that's how I feel. I'm feeding all the livestock and the first thought that crosses my mind is Marcus. I don't even worry about mounting my horse. Instead, I take off running toward the house.

  I'm pouring sweat from my pores and my boots are heavy, but I don't care. I can't fight the feeling in my gut that something is wrong. I thought everything was finally starting to go into a state of normalcy. I've been working at the ranch and I have opportunities arising quickly at Rapid Descent with Big Sanchez. I haven't had any more visions, so I thought the night with Angelique was what I needed to release some of the stress and tension I've been putting on my brain.

  I have no interest in taking things further with her. If I need a release and she's up for it I might take her to bed again, but nothing more. I held more feelings for the girl in the visions than I do for Angelique and I've slept with her, developed a memory t
hat I can remember and pull anytime I get ready. I'm pretty sure the girl in my visions was just a figment of my imagination anyway; Too bad because she is exceptionally remarkable. I wish she were real...but that's the thing about wishing; in the end it's still just a wish and not a part of reality.

  I come charging through the front door screaming. "Marcus!" I look from room to room in a state of panic, but don't see him anywhere.

  Where is he?

  "Marcus!" Every bad situation imaginable is running through my head right now. He couldn't be more of a brother to me if we shared the same blood. I love that kid and would kill for him. I'm just about to walk outside to the pool when he comes walking down the stairs.

  "Bryce? What is it? I'm right here. Are you okay?" Relief floods through my body as he comes into view, but that feeling in my gut hasn't gone away. What does it mean? It makes my stomach churn.

  I'm beginning to get a little dizzy. Maybe I got too hot outside with my brain injury. I'm still not supposed to over exert myself. White light flashes through my mind blinding me from the life before me. My sight is frozen to one shade. "Where's mom?"

  What's happening to me?

  I feel like I'm going to vomit and my head is pounding. I fall to my knees at the excruciating pain that is raging in my head. Placing my hands on each side of my head I scream out to Marcus. "Go get mom!"

  I growl with each pulse, because the pain is almost unbearable. The only thing I can see is white and then a spotlight beaming down on something in the center of the room. I feel like I'm in some kind of horror film, and in the middle of a game being played on my mind.

  My whole body is burning causing me to want to rip my clothes off. I can't see anything, but I can hear Marcus' footsteps pound against the floor, fading out.

  Why can't I fuckin' see anything?

  Finally, something starts to form on the blank canvas in my mind; a bed with a body lying on top of it in what appears to be a hospital. I try really hard to focus through the searing pain that is pumping through my veins with each beat of my heart.