Chapter 41: Smart Girls Quit

Marley

My eyes track frantically, trying to orient to the darkened area.

Bodie is no where to be seen. Not at the bar,where I expected. Yet I hear Bodie's resonant voice, backed by a full band, open-throated on the bridge of some song I don't know.

I've never heard him sing like this. He sounds like a frontman.

Flesh presses against on all sides. I can't even spin in a circle to find him. "Where is he?"

Adam grins. "Better question is, who the hell knew Bodie could sing rockabilly?" Adam claps and laughs out loud. "Goddamn."

"But where is he?" I hiss scanning the room. I've finally located the stage, and it's empty.

He points up. "It's a honkeytonk, remember? Three stories. Three stages."

Adam grabs my hand and shoulders his way a little more roughly than necessary to the staircase. Bodie's song ends while we are fighting our way to the second floor. This room is nearly empty. A lone singer with a guitar is hawking for twenty dollar requests from the handful of patrons obviously more interested in drinking than listening.

Adam keeps trudging up to the rooftop. The third floor crowd is pushed down the upper part of the stairs.

I hear Bodie speaking into the mic.

"So they tell me we don't have to go home, but we've gotta get the hell up out of here. Apparently there's a scheduled act and us amateurs have to yield the stage," he jokes. "Y'all have been an amazing crowd. Give it up for these two guys, John Patrick Pierson and Zeke Jaymes. Heard 'em busking on the corner and knew they are gonna be big one day. You guys will be able to say you heard 'em here first. We're gonna do just one more song for you. Any requests?"

"Johnny Cash!" Adam bellows, four stairs from the top. He's so loud, the people blocking our way shrink back, and he practically drags me the rest of the way up.

I trip on the final step, more shocked by Bodie's appearance than seeing him with a headset mic from behind the drum kit.

He's wearing a leather shirt—it's too slim cut to be a jacket, open to his six pack. Jeans and cowboy boots almost complete his transformation.

But not quite.

The main thing?

He has cut off his dreads.

The man looks about a hundred times sexier with close-cropped hair than those dreads he's been neglecting for months.

Seeing him, I feel sure something has changed in Bodie. I'm just not sure what.

Bodie is standing now, scanning near the stairs, because he's recognized Adam's voice. He spots us and gives Adam a sheepish half shrug.

Adam pulls me in front of him, presenting me. My eyes lock with Bodie's. It's my job to take in his whole demeanor, but I can't. I am seeking something from his eyes, and I find it there.

He drinks me in. He's missed me.

I've missed him too.

He gives me a rather solemn nod, then directs his attention to the table at the front. "Hey, ladies. Two of my friends just showed up. Can they squeeze in?"

We make our way to the table and then Bodie seems to change his mind. "Unless, Adam...you wanna jump in up here?" He looks at John Patrick and Zeke. "We could maybe switch around..."

"Oh no!" Adam waives off the offer, pulling out his phone. "I'm right where I want to be for this."

Bodie laughs and twirls his stick. "Right. So you wanna hear a little Johnny Cash?"

"Hell yeah," Adam chins. He eases halfway out of his chair and tosses some twenties in the buskers' tip jar.

Bodie and the boys consult. As they start up a rhythm much jauntier than the original song, Bodie jumps in with both the drums and vocals.

They perform Folsom Prison Blues. Bodie owns it, and why shouldn't he? The man is singing from experience.

At the end he jumps up and yells, "JP Pierson and Zeke James, people. Spread the word, people." The crowd whistles and bellows as he claps it out with them. As they exit the stage, he remains. All it takes is a subtle chin tip to pull Adam to his feet. He gives me a shoulder press as he joins Bodie.

Bodie skirts the kit to clap it out with Adam. "Y'all know this guy right? Like, personally?" The crowd claps in recognition.

Adam grins sheepishly. "Come on, now. I ain't down here drinkin' that much." He points to a guy in a cowboy hat. "But I did do a shot with you last week, right?" The dude tips his hat. He's probably a performer with dreams, he definitely has the country music star look.

"And me!" A girl yells from the back.

Adam paws at her. "Now that's just not true, pretty lady. I would remember that."

"Yep, he woulda remembered because his wife woulda castrated him," Bodie quips.

The crowd laughs, and I smile. It's nice to see Bodie and Adam in the limelight for a change. On the Soundcrush stage, they let their rhythm speak for them.

"Y'all be patient a minute here," Bodie says. "I gotta get with my boy and school him on how to play me a basic backbeat." He hands Adam the sticks.

Adam looks completely comfortable and chuckles into the mic. "Y'all don't tell Bodie that anybody who has two hands and a foot can play drums. He's under the impression it's a talent."

Bodie makes a show of counting the drums and cymbals on the kit his been squatting on. "Twelve percussion instruments to play right there, Adam." He hold up four fingers to the crowd. "Four strings on Adam's bass."

The crowd cheers at the joke. "I think they are with me, brah." Bodie preens.

"Last time I buy rounds for this crowd," Adam grumbles. He grins and turns to Bodie. "Alright, what's this song you wanna do?"

Adam takes the stool on the kit and Bodie thumbs something up on his phone, holding the speaker up to Adam's ear. He nods, holds the splash on a cymbal and then vibrates out a pattern for all of about fifteen seconds before nodding at Bodie, who pockets his phone and sits down at the previously unused piano on the left of the stage.

He begins a bluesy, almost gospel song, a mix of upbeat trills and melancholy chords. His eyes meet mine again.

"So. Yeah. I'm not much of a songwriter, but sometimes you find a song that expresses your feelings so well that you could have written it. And this song..." he stops playing. He's still except for the fire in his eyes. "This song is for a woman that I hurt-repeatedly—but she's still the woman I love," he murmurs quietly into the mic, lighting me up with his look.

Then, someone in the crowd decides to burn me down as they yell, "Arabella!"

I lower my gaze, but even through my lashes Bodie's rock star face raises like a shield wall. He ducks his head and begins to sing.

You say that you love me, don't say that you love me

Cause I don't know how to be yours

You say that you want me, don't say that you want me

Cause I don't know how to be yours

I still act like an orphan I guess

My hard heart breaks to confess

That even while you hold me

As I cry on the floor

I still don't know how to be yours

Watching Bodie pour his soul into that condenser mic, I want to run from the room at the same moment I'm paralyzed in my seat.

The man is so full of contradiction. I don't know what he's trying to tell me. That he's compromised his sobriety? That's he's been sleeping with Arabella? That he's a thug at heart—a killer and a drug dealer—and he's never going to be able to escape that world?

Then he hits the bridge and Adam finally brings in percussion and Bodie pounds the keys like he can force his love into their vibration as he shakes his head at me and promises.

So love me or hate me

I'm not going anywhere

Leave me or take me

You still bare my signature

Know me or not

Seen or forgot

I'm not walking out on you

He repeats, more sure in his song the second time. Listening to him swearing his loyalty, something in me simply shuts off.

I can't do this anymore. Not one more day.

I'm as disengaged as I feel when Bodie and Adam accept their applause and rejoin me. Bodie stands in front of my chair. I stay seated, my head ducked. Bodie crouches in front of me.

He's trying to read my expression while he's wearing his own rock star face. After a long moment of searching my face, he touches my sandaled foot lightly.

"How's your ankle?"

"Fine."

He smiles almost sadly. "I'm glad."

The he straightens up. "Let's go," he says tersely to Adam. "Marley and I need to talk. In private."

Adam leads the way and before long, we are on the long driveway at the Heartley mansion. Adam hands Bodie a keyfob. "Your room is in the basement. Mac figured that was the best place for you. By the game room and the weight room," he smiles. Adam gives us an overly innocent look. "It's private down there. No other bedrooms. Back door entrance. Why don't you guys go talk? I'll make sure Darius gives you some space."

"You'll probably have to tie him to a chair," I say.

He sighs. "Naw. I'll just offer to take him and Gwen to the movies."

Bodie raises his eyebrows. At me.

"Something going on there I should know?"

"Not really," I say coolly. I tip my head at Adam. "We've got it under control. Obviously they like each other, but eighth grade is too young to date unchaperoned."

"Well, you'll see for yourself now that your are back. They've got it pretty bad," Adam grins. "My sister and her husband know that they are texting a lot and asked me to keep an eye on their interaction, so I was being a bit hard-ass at first, but Mac and Marley finally convinced me...if we make a big deal, they will only like each other more...intensely."

Bodie sighs and rubs his face. "I'm not ready for this. I mean, damn. I just became a dad like a minute ago. I swear to fuck I would rather deal with dirty diapers than teenage hormones."

"You aren't," I say softly.

Bodie looks at me, searching my face. "What?"

"You aren't his father. Not from any perspective that is important. Not from his perspective. Not from a scientifically proven perspective. Not from a legal perspective."

It hurts slightly when I say that, but it doesn't make it less true. I see now, we've waded into this entire complicated relationship from the completely wrong end, and on unproven assumption.

"We've been going about this—" I gesture between him and me, "all wrong. I see that now. This isn't working."

Bodie's thoughtful expression turns grim.

Adam is uncomfortable being witness to this. He chews on his lip and looks out the window. I honestly don't care. I've been holding back so long.

"Bodie, I—"

"I know you have things you need to say. There are things I need to say. Can it wait two more minutes, please?"

The truck stops in the side portico and Bodie pulls me out by the hand, dragging me around the wooded path that leads to the walkout basement entrance before Darius has a chance to intercept us.

I've been down here in the rec room, but together we find Bodie's room. It doesn't disappoint. Mac and Adam went all out with custom appointments for Trace, Leed and Bodie's permanent rooms.

Bodie's bed is a mattress artistically placed on a round stonework pedestal. Subtle lights warm the space under the pedestal and fairy lights are strung on the wood inlay wall behind the bed. Dark plush throws of several shades and textures complete bed linens. A giant stone fireplace claims a corner of the room, with a comfortable-looking couch placed in front.

Adam must have texted Mac that we were coming, because the fire is lit and there are some waters and a cheese platter on a sidetable. Although I've missed dinner, there is no way I could eat.

My gut is twisted in nerves and indecision. I know what I need to do, it's just...hard. So hard.

Bodie is watching me carefully, like I'm a bomb about to explode.

"I can't do this anymore, Bodie. All these half-measures. All these secrets. All these doubts."

"What are you saying?"

"I need absolute honesty from you. And then I will give you my truth."

Bodie crosses the room to me and takes my hands, "Ask me anything."

"Did you sleep with Arabella?"

He looks offended, then sighs heavily. "No. Of course not. It that the thing you were honestly most worried about?"

"Well, it's the thing I'm most pissed about, I think. What happened between us the night you left...it felt like more than just...making out."

Half his grin lifts. He runs a thumb over my lips. "It felt like home to me."

I slap his hand away. "Then you creeped away while I was sleeping and flew off to fuss over your girlfriend's career."

"Not really," he says mildly. "I mean yeah, I did do that as a little side project, but really that's just what I told the guys and Riley. It's necessary. I can't have them knowing my business. But baby, I'm done keeping it from you."

That surprises me.

"What?"

He squares his shoulders. "I realized something today. Thanks to my mom, in an indirect way. I'm in some complicated shit, and I need someone I trust with all the good shit and all the bad shit. You're that person." He smiles at me tenderly. "God knows you are smart enough. Strong enough. Bad-ass enough. But the question is, are you willing? So ask your next question, and I won't hold anything back, and then we will both have our answers."

Bodie's whole demeanor is tensed. I feel my heart breaking before I ask the question, but I ask it anyway.

"Did you go to the Philippines to do a drug deal for Daemon?"

Bodie runs a hand over his newly shorn head. He sighs, closes his eyes and whispers, "Yes. I bought your safety from Daemon with a promise to find him a new supplier and pay for the first three shipments. I went to the Philippines to find a delivery route. The drugs will be coming from an operation in Thailand run by a guy named Connor Ryan. It's not a one time thing. Setting the path through the Philippines will take some time, which is why B-side records is the perfect front for my travel there."

I gasp as I step back from him. I can't believe he actually told me the truth. I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Then he opens his eyes, and I see nothing but calm there. No conflict. No guilt.

"What else aren't you telling me?"

"So many fucking things I can't tell you, because I don't even know it all," He takes my hands in his. "But I can tell you two things: when the pipeline is finally established, these drugs will never make it to the street, and Connor Ryan and Daemon Turner will both be in prison."

My eyes widened. "It's a sting. You're involved in some kind of drug trafficking sting? How did you set this up? Like, how is it all going to work?"

His lips tighten, and he puts his hands on my shoulders. "That's the tricky thing, see? I didn't set it up. This sting is an international effort that's been going on for some time, and I had an in that let me jump into the end-game, so to speak. I just made the Connor-Daemon contact. Connor fronts a huge drug trafficking operation. Daemon is just one of many mid level distributors that will go down with him. I'm a part of that system now—a high volume mule. What you have to understand, Marley...what I'm doing? It's illegal. I'm part of this criminal organization. All I have are my wits and a promise of immunity if I can position myself to deliver parts of critical testimony they will need to take the bad guys down."

Bodie is smart, but so am I, and understand the implications of everything he is telling me. Sometimes the Feds play just as dirty as the felons. And sometimes the informants in these kinds of situations get killed.

I grip his leather shirt, pulling him close to me. "Don't. Don't do it. Please. This is so dangerous."

He kisses my forehead. "Which is why you can't tell anyone. Not the guys. Not the ladies. Not Riley. Not Darius. Certainly not TJ. Believe me, I've thought about this long and hard. It's the only way to take down Daemon and dismantle Sixmob. I can't even kill the fucker without risking retaliation on you from one of his lieutenants. No. This is how it has to go down. Daemon's own greed is the only thing powerful enough to destroy him."

He folds his fingers into mine. "So now you know. I have a question for you. Are you with me? You don't have to be, you know. You can walk away now, and I promise, you and Darius are safe in Atlanta. But if you stay, there is one risk. The risk of losing me, if something goes wrong."

At the thought of losing Bodie, by blood floods with fever. I grasp onto his shirt tighter. I plant a kiss just above his heart. I can feel it thundering beneath my lips. His hands find my hips, steadying me, because I'm swaying with fear and indecision.

He bends over me, his hands traveling up my back as he steps closer. "Jaz.God, I've missed you so much. I need you so much." He mouth bends toward mine.

That's when I catch the whiff of bourbon.

I pull back, searching his face. "You've been drinking."

His face twists in frustration. He runs both hands over his close-cropped hair, looking at heavy timbers on the ceiling.

"Yeah. Two drinks."

"What else? Oxy? Coke?"

He shakes his head.

"Nothing else. I stayed sober the whole time I was in the Philippines, but I broke my sobriety on Broadway today. I had two drinks and I realized if I didn't find a better coping tool, I was going to drink that whole damn bottle, so I walked out of that bar, grabbed those buskers, walked into another bar and did the thing that saves me every time. I made music."

It doesn't surprise me that Bodie drank.It amazes me that he was able to stop at two drinks, considering the pressure he's been under.

"You have to phase back into your methadone, okay?"

He nods. "I know."

"And you have to be totally honest with me when you have a break in your sobriety. Just like this time. Every time, Bodie. It doesn't make you a bad person. But we have to deal with it."

"Of course I know that. We have a kid together. My sobriety affects his life."

"And there's one more thing I need you to hear, okay?"

He's still looking at the ceiling, receiving his lecture and his instructions patiently.

"I can't do this anymore. I quit. No more Dr. Watkins.I don't want to be your sobriety companion. I want to be your ride-or-die. "

I pull his hands from behind his head, and wrap them around my waist. His expression of surprise is almost comical.

He takes a step back, his hands sliding from my body.

"Marley, are you su—"

I pull my t-shirt over my head and slide off my jeans. Serendipity matched my  bra and panties for me today. Jade green trimmed in black lace.

"Damn, Mama." Bodie bites his knuckle, his gaze growing heavy with lust as it rakes over me. "You sure you haven't been drinking? It ain't like you to breach the boundaries."

My response is to advance on him. He moves with me, letting me back him up to the door.

"Oh my god, Bodie, if you aren't breaching my boundaries in two minutes time I'm going to get my feelings hurt here..." I whisper, on the verge of tears.

His eyes widen. His hands slide gently into my hair, as his thumbs press against my lips.

"You're serious? You're sure?"

I nod mutely beneath his touch.

He closes his eyes and swallows heavily. Then he kisses me deep and hard and demanding as he lifts me by the thighs, wrapping my legs around him as he moves us toward the bed. Just when I think he is going to break the kiss, he doubles down on the passion, pulling me even tighter against him as he throws both of us onto the bed.

I am crunched and smushed beneath his powerful bulk, but it doesn't hurt. It feels wildly exciting. "Oh, Bodie," I moan, feeling my way up his muscular biceps as he kisses along my jaw.

"Jasmine," he breathes into my ear. "I am just as hopelessly gone over you as the first time we did this."

"You fill up my mind, and my heart, and my soul," I whisper.

"That's beautiful. I'm glad. But that ain't all I'm gonna fill up," he growls, hooking my leg around him and pressing his jean-covered erection firmly to my center. He raises over me, running his hands lightly down my breasts, my belly, my thighs.

Something changes in his tempo as he put hands on me. He groans. "I am dying to be inside you, but this can't be rushed. This means too much."

"It does to me, too." I feel up his abs, tentatively. I can't believe this man is mine. "You are so, so sexy."

He shakes his head, dipping down to kiss my belly button, then nuzzle his way up into my cleavage. "You are my fucking dream. Always have been. My first, my best, the one I fantasize about. You ruined me, that night. And it still blows my mind that Darius came from that."

"It was the biggest night of my life, but let's not get pregnant this time," I joke, trying to be as smooth with my moves as he is but struggling to divest him of this damn leather shirt.

He's not nearly as rushy as me. He helps me pull his shirt off and then kisses me lazily again. He props up on one elbow, lightly tracing a finger along my cleavage. "No, that wouldn't be good, I guess," he says neutrally. "We have enough complications. Not that I wouldn't be okay with more kids one day, I just meant..."

Bodie's expression is so gentle, it deepens my desire beyond lust. I feel myself pooling into something much denser, something sure, lying beneath this man. "I know what you meant. We need time. Darius needs our focus. I think we should tell him, Bodie. Darius should know we think you are his father."

The expression on his face. It's like he's seeing a miracle. "You mean that?"

I cup his jaw. "Yes, I do. We should sit Darius down and explain everything to him."

He rests his forehead against mine. "I want that. So much. But after this, okay? Because I've never wanted anything in my life like I want you now." He pulls me over on my side, so that we are pressed length to length. Heart to heart. Face to face.

"I love you." It's not just words when Bodie says it. It's breath and heart and will.

His conviction breaks my heart. In the best way. He  cracks me completely open and pours himself inside.

I feel a tear slip sideways from my eye. "I love you."  I give him all my feeling and all my promise back.

We are kissing the life out of each other, when I hear a very sarcastic and very familiar voice say, "Awwww, you love each other? That's great."

I shriek into Bodie's mouth and he recoils from the noise, his eyes seeking the source of my alarm.

"Darius."

"Bodie." Darius' sarcasm has distilled to venom.

My immediate thought is to cover up, but Bodie does that for me, pulling one of the plush throws over me as he sits up in a smooth motion. I should probably flip around, say something to my son, but I'm so mortified that I half sit, half curl into a ball, keeping my back turned from Darius at the door.

Bodie can see my horrified expression. He pats my leg through the throw and gives me a wink. He thinks we can just brazen this out, but something in Darius' tone is making me afraid...

"Darius, this is kind of awkward, man. Especially for your mom. Could have been avoided if you knocked," Bodie says very mildly.

"How about you save the lecture, Dad? And just rewind to the explanation of how you guys have been lying to me my whole life about who my father is!?!?!" He yells. "Oh. Sorry. My bad. You guys want to finish screwing first? Be my guest!!!" He slams the door.

I'm stock still. The horror of what happened hasn't quite hit me yet.

Bodie is handing me my jeans and shrugging into his shirt. "Its gonna be okay. You know...really, he doesn't have much to complain about. I'm a damn sight better dad option than Daemon. After he gets over the horror of seeing his mother's bare ass cheeks—love that thong by the way—he'll realize he's money. The rock star coattails he's been riding since you became my sobriety companion? That's his life now. He's  the new Street del Marco.  He can do whatever he wants in life. He'll chill."

I wiggle into my jeans. "Not funny, Bodie. This is bad."

"This is our life now, Jaz," he says the most beautiful smile I've ever seen on any man. "It's a fucking mess, but it's ours."

Dang, that was really no fun for Bodie and Marley. I feel kinda sorry for these two. Are they ever going to get together. It feels like fate or the Universe or SOMEONE is keeping them apart. I can't imagine why....

Oh. Would you like to see my re-imagined Bodie now that he's gotten healthy, ripped and cut his dreads? I'm thinking of him something like this now...