Pucker Up (3 page)

“Uncle
Dust!” Melody opened the door with a wide smile, delight clear in her voice. 
“What are you doing here?”  He hugged her with his free arm, blonde hair barely
tickling his chin, and stepped into her dorm room.

“I
need a reason to visit?”

She
gave him a placating look before focusing on the box he held.  “Never.  But you
don’t drive around without a reason.  You hate to drive.”  He did.  But he
hated feeling stuck more.

“I
brought you something.”

“I
can see that,” she said, amusement dancing in her voice.  “Are you going to put
it down or go stalk around the courtyard like that – a lot of girls around here
would pay to watch, and I could use some extra cash.”

Melody
laughed at the stormy look that blew across Dustin’s face.  “Not you too.  I
don’t need a girlfriend, thanks.”  He put the box down on her desk and reached
for his wallet.  “How much money do you need?”

Melody’s
eyes got quizzical, and she hopped onto her bed, legs crossed underneath her,
managing not to upend any of the books strewn across it.  “I was just
kidding.”  She watched him, and Dustin had the urge to throw a blanket over his
head and hide.  He felt too exposed as it was; he didn’t need that clinically
accessing stare she’d gotten from her mother.  The one that promised to look
into your soul.  “Since when do you hand out cash like it’s chewing gum?”

“I
miss you,” he said, getting as emotional as he dared.  Her face softened, and
he knew she wouldn’t push any harder.  He couldn’t continue without clearing
his throat though.  “So, you want to see what I’ve brought you?”

“Of
course.”

“You
can have it on one condition.”

She
rolled her eyes at that, too familiar with Dustin and his demands.  “Which is?”

“Let
me take you out to lunch.”

“Oh,
I suppose I can handle that.”  Her grin calmed his mind – this was why he had
come.

Faith
looked at Madison skeptically as they walked down the street.  “You really
wanted to come all the way out here?  It’s not a short distance.”  They’d
passed at least three promising restaurants since they’d parked the car. 
Wasn’t this the woman that had been complaining about swollen feet?

“I
told you, I know the perfect place to eat.  And I need the fresh air.  Trevor, God
love him, is driving me insane.  He keeps waiting on me hand and foot.”

“Wow,
sounds horrible.”  Faith’s tone was dry as dust.

“I
know, sounds wonderful, right?  But sometimes I just want to move.  I lived
over thirty years without him. I think I can make it from the living room to
the bedroom just fine.”

“That
suffocating?” Faith asked.  It’s what she’d always thought – commitment like
that taking everything you were and swallowing it whole.  A love like that
being all-consuming, destroying what stood in its way.  Always collateral
damage.

“Not
suffocating, just overwhelming.  Sometimes being married and pregnant isn’t
anything like you see in the movies.”  Madison’s face got wistful, and her hand
unknowingly traveled to her belly.  “Which is one of the best surprises of my
life.”

Faith
remembered that too, feeling staggered and amazed.  But not all songs were happy,
not all chords played in perfect tune.  It had been a decade since she’d been
that mixed up, or since she’d wanted to be.  That song was vintage, good for
lonely nights when she couldn’t sleep but no place for it at lunch. 

“What
surprises you?” Madison asked.

This
was a question Faith could answer.  “The feeling of rightness when I pick up a
microphone.  The joy at crossing things off my checklist.  The taste of fruit
picked straight from the field.  Heck, the fact that people still know my name
after all these years surprises me all the time.”

“You
haven’t been around long enough for people to tire of you.”

“You
know I have.  I was sixteen when we formed Attitunes.  Thirteen years ago went
on our first tour, opening for Jewel.  Takes more than a decade to make an
overnight success.”   Faith still had a framed ticket stub from that first show
next to her bed; it didn’t pay to forget how long she’d been walking this road.

“Attitunes.”
Madison laughed.  “I forgot you were in that West Coast girl group.   Tunes
with Tude.”

“You’re
probably the only one.”

“Let
me see.  You were the cheery Girl Next Door.  And there was sad emo Skater
Girl.  And the saucy Country Honey.”

“Saucy?”
Faith teased.

“And
the naïve Beach Babe.”  Madison bit her lip.  “That’s only four, I’m missing
one.”

“The
fashionable Urban Sista,” Faith offered.  Her
former
best friend of the
lot of them. 

“Yes,
that’s right!  And the song.  What was that song called?” 

“
Pucker
Up
,” Faith volunteered with an eye roll.  Though she shouldn’t knock it – that
song had been her first foray into songwriting.  It started out as
Batter Up,
and the girls decided they could do a little bit better than that.  She and
Maya had taken so much pride in fixing it; it’s what put both of them on their
writing paths.

“How
could I have forgotten?” Madison laughed.  “That music video was everywhere
when that song came out.  Do you remember we met back then?”

It
was Faith’s turn to laugh.  “Of course.  You were in
Sally on the Rocks
,
my favorite decade-defining movie.  I was so starstruck by you and Keagan
Mitchell I’m not sure I said a word.”  She’d wanted to be like the romantic
hero in the movie, so full of optimism and hope that it truly defined the
person she became.  The cheerful one.

“The
great silence of fame,” Madison murmured.  “Here, this is where we’re going. 
Tapas await!”

“When
are you going to tell me?” Dustin asked his niece as they walked down the
street.

“Tell
you what?”

“Why
your hair looks like it got in a fight.” 

Melody
picked up a strand and looked at it.  “I went to a party last weekend.  Didn’t
think it would take so long for the purple steaks to wash out.  Maybe I’m stuck
with them – what do you think?”

Dustin
shook his head in amusement.  “I never would have guessed you were the one I’d
have this conversation with.”

“Harmony
doesn’t want to streak her hair blue anymore.  She wants to go rainbow ombre. 
She could definitely pull it off.”

“Boys,”
he murmured, “why couldn’t you have been boys?”  Melody punched him in the
shoulder before leaning in for a hug.  They both knew he didn’t mean it.

“Boys
or girls, since when do kids make life easy?” 

It
was the familiar retort, but the smile slipped off of Dustin’s face.  This week
he couldn’t handle it.  This week he was reminded how his life was too normal,
too simple, too damn easy.

“You’re
allowed to be sad, you know.”

His
eyes snapped to hers in disbelief, anger not far behind.  “Don’t be mad,”
Melody said in a quiet voice.  “Dad didn’t tell me anything; your secret’s
safe.  But come on, Uncle Dust, you’re always sad this time of year.  Like me.”

His
arm tightened around her shoulders.  “I don’t want you to ever be sad.”

She
shrugged, wisdom beyond her years in her eyes.  “Sad happens.  Doesn’t mean
happy can’t happen too.”  She grinned, and her eyes turned impish.  “Here’s the
place we’re having lunch.”

He
snorted his opinion.  “Tapas to the Beat?  Seriously?”

She
giggled.  “See, happy.  Look how easy that was.  We’ll sit outside; don’t
worry.”

Dustin
glanced at the building with distaste.  But he wasn’t preoccupied enough to
miss the way Melody’s face lit up as the waiter walked by.  “Who’s that?” he
asked nonchalantly as they sat.

“Huh?”

“That
waiter.  You know him?”

“That’s
Eric.  He’s who I’m gonna share my home-cooked meals with.”  She met his stormy
eyes again.  “See, told ya – sad and happy can coexist.  Even this week.”  She
waited for him to say something.  When he didn’t, she added, “He’s nice, you’ll
see.”

He
eyed the lanky, dark-haired boy with the dimpled grin.  Dustin remembered nice
– that had been him once upon a time.  Eleven years ago, not even legal,
serving drinks, charm, and anything else he could get away with.  Quick to smile,
quick to laugh, quick to other things.

“I
don’t like it,” he mumbled with a look at his menu.

Melody
waved that away with an offhand gesture.  “You don’t like anything.  Especially
boys.  Good thing you’re not the one that has to.”

“You
mean Peter?”

Melody
shook her head and smirked.  “I mean me.”  How did they grow up so fast?

“Do
you eat here often?” Faith asked as she peered over her menu at Madison.

“Used
to.  Trevor’s sister went vegan for a few months, before she realized she could
not live without cheese, and this was the only restaurant we could ever agree
on.  She swears by the mushroom quiche and gazpacho.  Oh, and the white truffle
popcorn.”

“You
remembered I was vegan,” Faith said.

“This
time – pregnancy brain hasn’t stripped all of my memories.  You aren’t the kind
of vegan that will begrudge a pregnant woman fried cheese and meat, are you? 
Because the kid in here, not vegan.”

Faith
laughed.  “If I waved away every meat eater, I’d have even less lunch dates
than I do now.”

Madison’s
tone changed.  “I used to be like you, you know.” 

Faith
looked up, uneasy, but her smile never wavered.  “Picky.  Busy.  Single.”

Madison
smiled.  “Lonely.”

She
was not ready to go there, not without distance from this week.  “Well, with
that one in there, not sure that’s something you’re ever going to be again.”

The
wattage on Madison’s smile turned up a few thousand degrees.  Any other week
and Faith’s would have grown to match without hesitation.  This week it took
more effort, fighting around the stab of longing and pain she could never completely
erase.  “A truer statement has never been said.”  Madison patted her belly. 
“Trevor wants a girl, but I’d like a boy.  The last one that crashed into my
life wasn’t so bad, and if he’s anything like his daddy, he’ll do just fine.”

Faith
looked down weakly, cursing herself that she wasn’t able to easily meet her
eyes or share her joy.  She could do this – she did it every damn day of her
life.  There shouldn’t be anything different today.  She was practically daring
the universe to show her there was anything different about today.

Madison’s
touch shook her from her thoughts.  “When you’re ready, you can talk to me.  I
might understand.”  Faith gaped, not sure what to say, afraid she was that easy
to read, before Madison’s face changed again, from concerned to impish. “Do you
see that girl sitting at the table outside?  The one with the purple streaks in
her hair.  How long before you think she comes to talk to us?”

Faith
looked across the restaurant and felt the air knocked out of her, a kick in the
gut from the universe taking her ill-advised dare.  Sitting across from the
young blonde was the man that had been haunting her for ten years.  Older,
possibly a bit wiser, but the same face.  He smiled suddenly, a slash of humor,
and she almost became undone.  Dustin.

“Mel,
did you see who’s inside?” Eric asked as he set down their water.

“No. 
Who?”  She turned to look through the window.  Eric leaned over close and
pointed; Dustin tried not to tell the kid to step back a few yards.  Melody’s
squeal of delight had Dustin’s attention shifting back from the boy to his
niece.  “Shut up!”

“Who
is it?” Dustin asked, leaning over to follow their gazes.

“Madison
freaking Duncan.  Purple Purpose eats here!”  Her eyes turned to Eric’s.  “Have
you met her before?  Does she come here often?  What’s she like?”

Eric
answered, but Dustin didn’t hear a word – his world was reeling.  Because
sitting across from the pregnant actress was the woman he’d spent ten years
trying to forget.  He closed his eyes and gripped the table, hoping his mind
was playing tricks on him.  He’d seen her in the magazine, heard her voice on
the radio – it was just his overactive imagination trying to wish her into
existence.  It had to be.

“That’s
Faith West having lunch with her too!”

Dustin
groaned.  “And how do you know about Faith West?”  His voice was much harsher
than necessary.

Melody
was so excited her eyes didn’t even narrow at his tone.  “I know you banned us
from listening to Attitunes or buying their CDs when we were younger, but come
on, Uncle Dust – that girl is everywhere now.  You think I was going to get
through college without ever hearing one of her songs?  Don’t worry, Gene Autry
and Patsy Cline still own my country heart.”

“I
just put their order in,” Eric said.

“So,
what, about ten minutes with nothing to do?”

“You
aren’t going over there, are you?”  If Melody had been paying any attention at
all, she would have noticed Dustin go pale at the thought.

“I
have to,” she said.  “When am I going to get another opportunity to gush all over
a movie star?  Don’t worry.  I’ll be really respectful, won’t ask for an
autograph or picture, just say my piece and go.”

Dustin’s
eyes turned hard.  “And what, missy, do you have to say to a movie star that is
that important?”

Melody
squeezed Eric’s hand as he helped her up from her seat.  “I have to tell her
how she changed my life.”

“Excuse
me.”   Faith tried to set her face in a neutral mask, hide the panic and
heartbreak she was reeling from, but it was hard.  The girl was adorable, even
with the crazy purple streaks in her hair.  

Madison
smiled at her.  “Is there something we can do for you?”

“I’m
so sorry to bother you, and I won’t take up much of your time.  I just wanted
to tell you how much I love you.  That’s so silly, right, I mean I don’t even
know you, but
Prism Fighters
is my absolute favorite movie.  My sorority
had a superhero party last weekend, and I went as Purple Purpose, as you.” A
bright smile broke across her face.  “I got second place.”

“Congratulations.”

Laughter
and calm radiated from the girl like the sun.  “Thanks, but I didn’t come over
here to say that.  I just wanted to tell you how much that movie, and you, mean
to me.  I’m sure you get this all the time but…”   She paused and took a deep
breath, a twinge of sadness entering her eyes.  Faith’s own pain rose up to
meet hers.

“My
mother died when I was twelve.  Cancer.  My dad is… awesome… but I was sad for
a really long time, felt like all the time.  Like I didn’t know how to Be
anything else even though I faked it really well.  And then my friends dragged
me to your movie, and I don’t know, maybe it’s crazy, but…”   She looked at
Madison, full of earnest, and Faith had to look away, so much raw emotion
calling to her.  Her hands itched for a guitar.  “Seeing you kicking ass and
taking names but still owning how you felt and your pain, it made me feel like
I could breathe again.  That even when the sadness doesn’t disappear, it
doesn’t need to be the most important thing about me.  That there’s enough room
for happiness too.  You showed me a way out of the darkness.  And for that I
will be forever grateful.  That’s what I wanted to say.”