The Bed She Made Read online

  The Bed She Made

  Elicia Hyder

  Inkwell & Quill, LLC

  For my husband, Chris…

  the boy who almost got away.

  And for my mom and dad…

  who made my bed.

  Copyright © 2017 by Elicia Hyder

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Inkwell & Quill, LLC

  For More Information:

  www.eliciahyder.com

  Contents

  1. The Phoenix

  2. No Sex, Drugs, Or Rock And Roll

  3. The Ring

  4. The Summer Of '99

  5. Blow

  6. Come And Get Me

  7. Daddy Issues

  8. Nothing But The Truth

  9. The Little Spoon

  10. The Magic Wand

  11. The Big Day

  12. Laying Eggs

  13. Hand Guns And Diaper Bags

  14. Ghosts

  15. Now?

  16. The Hard Drive

  17. Zero Hope

  18. Crash And Burn

  19. Christmas Eve Party

  20. Lights Out

  21. Sleep

  22. 10-7

  23. Smoking Guns

  24. The Blue Bridesmaid

  Get the Epilogue

  The Prequel

  Thank you

  The Soul Summoner

  1. Wine & Witches

  Also By Elicia Hyder

  1

  The Phoenix

  “Please, Brandon,” Marcus Garrett begged. “We’re not going to tell anyone.”

  Brandon Stockport shook his head and pointed to the sign by the cash register. “Eighteen.” He grumbled something under his breath as he pushed his black rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and leaned back over the skull he was etching on Marcus’s shoulder.

  Kara Robertson smirked from where she sat with her long legs crossed on a bar stool. “Geez, Brandon, for a tattoo artist you sure are a goodie two shoes. Journey’s birthday is in, like, ten hours.”

  “I’ve got the most successful tattoo shop in town. I’m not jeopardizing it by putting ink on a kid,” Brandon said.

  Journey Durant laughed. “You’ve got the only tattoo shop in town.”

  Brandon stuck up his middle finger and wiped some oozing ink and blood from Marcus’s skin.

  Stockport Tattooing was one of many surprising new businesses for the quaint but growing town of Emerson, Georgia. Situated on Main Street in the heart of downtown, if there was such a thing, the shop seemed to be a block from everything important: the city high school, the police department, the courthouse, and the town’s one and only bar, Barry’s Bar & Grill. In a town where the biggest news story of the year was the county’s ban on sagging pants, Brandon Stockport had every right to be worried about being put out of business.

  Marcus looked over to where Journey was examining the tongue rings. “Do we have plans tomorrow?” he asked.

  Kara’s brow crumpled, and she tossed her blond hair over her shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Just mine and Journey’s graduation.”

  Journey raised her hand half-way into the air. “And my birthday.”

  Marcus craned his neck to watch Brandon work. “I know that much. I mean, do we have plans for afterward? I know you guys don’t want to go to that lame party that the school throws.”

  “We’re going to Journey’s lake house,” Kara said. “Her parents are leaving for London tomorrow morning.”

  Marcus looked up with surprise. “London?”

  Journey shrugged her shoulders and plopped down onto the barstool beside Kara. “Business,” she said.

  By American Southern standards, Journey’s parents were perfect. They were staunch Republicans, successful small business owners, and devout Southern Baptists. Their busy schedules, combined with the increasing disconnection they had with their youngest daughter, allowed Journey freedoms that they didn’t necessarily want to give but were forced to. They deeply loved her, and she knew it, but their customers needed their attention and Journey didn’t want it. She hadn’t been the least bit surprised that they were missing one of the biggest days in her life, and truth be told, she didn’t really care.

  She looked up to see Brandon and Marcus both looking at her with so much pity she wanted to run out of the shop. “Your parents are going to be in London on your eighteenth birthday and your graduation?” Marcus asked in disbelief.

  She forced a laugh. “In their defense, they had a valid point when they said they weren’t even sure I would show up for my graduation.”

  Marcus looked up at Brandon, his eyes begging for mercy. “C’mon, man. Please?”

  Brandon let out a frustrated groan. He stared at her for a moment before throwing his hands up in defeat. “Oh, for Christ’s sake... fine! What tattoo do you want?”

  Journey smiled. Something good might come out of her parental issues after all.

  She had been planning her first tattoo since her Uncle Ray had come home from the Navy with a pin-up on his forearm when she was seven. She had drawn out the design she wanted when she was thirteen and had changed it more times than she could count. She flipped through her sketchpad and pulled out the final draft of a colorful phoenix. She proudly slid the drawing toward Brandon.

  He looked up from Marcus’s arm. “You did this?” he asked.

  “I did,” she replied.

  He turned and leaned over the drawing of the magical bird. “It’s really good,” he said, unable to mask the surprise in his voice. “Where do you want to put it?”

  “On my ankle, going down onto my foot,” she answered.

  Brandon shook his head, still staring at the picture. “Damn, girl. I was expecting a butterfly or something.”

  Kara sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t know her at all then.”

  “You’re going to be here for a while,” Brandon said, turning back to finish Marcus’s skull. “And it’s not going to be cheap.”

  “It’s on me,” Marcus announced.

  Journey looked up.

  “And me,” Kara added. “Happy Birthday, Journ.”

  Forty-five minutes later, as the tattoo gun buzzed against her skin, Journey decided that getting a tattoo was like having a sunburn and being drawn on with an Exacto knife. As Brandon completed the outline of the bird, she wondered if she could tolerate the pain for the next few hours. To help keep her distracted, Kara made faces behind Marcus as he relentlessly admired his new ink in the mirror.

  Journey wasn’t what anyone would’ve called a popular student in high school. From her short, randomly colored hair down to her combat boots, everything about her was different from the other small town kids who valued their GPAs, the homecoming court, and football. However, despite her individuality—which usually didn’t bode well for high school girls—her eighteenth birthday proved that she had some amazing friends.

  It all began halfway through football season her sophomore year when she walked into Geometry class to find the quarterback slumped over his desk. He’d never actually spoken to Journey before, other than to borrow a pencil or ask to share her book, but necessity didn’t constitute a friendship. He was a junior, and all she really knew about him was his name: David Britton.

  On any other day, she wouldn’t have given him a second thought as s
he took her seat behind him, but that day he looked so pitiful and friendless that it was heartbreaking. She wondered if maybe someone had died or if he was having big problems at home. As the teacher took attendance, Journey scribbled a note to him.

  Are you OK?

  He looked surprised when she slipped the note under his elbow, but he opened it and wrote a reply before passing it back to her.

  Rebecca dumped me.

  When she read it, she rolled her eyes to his back. You’ve got to be freaking kidding me, she thought. Nevertheless, she responded.

  Then she doesn’t deserve you. ☺

  She knew he would probably assume that she was flirting with him. Most of the girls at West Emerson High flirted with David Britton. He was the star of the football team and looked like an over-sized Ken Doll with perfectly groomed brown hair, a chiseled face, and chocolate brown eyes. To her surprise, he simply looked back at her and smiled. It was an honest smile—a grateful one.

  An hour later when the bell rang, Kara, who had been her best friend since the fourth grade, was waiting for her at the locker they shared.

  Kara was an individualist by genetics; she had reached six foot one by age eleven. Like Journey, she was a bit of a rebel. On the first day of high school, the basketball coach had called her ‘a natural talent’ upon meeting her in the hall and insisted that she join his team. With great offense, she fired back, “I will not be defined by a growth chart!” She never touched another basketball.

  “Hey, do you want to come home with me after school?” Kara asked as Journey approached.

  Journey gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe.”

  “Journey, right?” a male voice asked behind her.

  She spun around to see David Britton. “Yeahhh,” she said, drawing the word out till it sounded more like a question than an answer.

  “Hi, Kara,” David said like he had known her for years.

  “Hey there,” she replied with a polite nod before turning her wide, questioning eyes back to Journey.

  Journey looked back at David. He rocked back and forth on his heels for a second and then lowered his voice so that only she could hear him. “I just wanted to say thanks for trying to cheer me up. No one has really said much since Rebecca and I split.”

  She offered him a kind smile. “They probably just don’t know what to say,” she suggested. “I doubt they mean anything by it.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think they really care.”

  She thought for a second. “Then they aren’t very good friends.”

  He let out a slight chuckle. “Most of them aren’t,” he agreed. “Are you looking for any new friends? You seem to be good at it.”

  For a brief moment she wondered why he was standing there, in his letter jacket, talking to her. She didn’t think it was possible to make that big of an impression in just two scribbled sentences on a torn sheet of notebook paper.

  She hugged her English book to her chest. “Sure. I’m always looking for new friends.” She smiled. “As long as you’re not always this big of a cry baby.”

  He laughed and looked at her with pleasant surprise in his eyes. “Do I look that bad?”

  She laughed. “I thought someone had died.”

  He cast his eyes to her feet and laughed.

  “Dave!” a voice boomed from down the crowded hallway.

  The three of them looked up to see a pair of flailing arms in the air. Girls regularly blushed at the sight of Marcus Garrett, David’s best friend. He was the football team’s wide receiver and, like David, one of the most popular guys in school. He wasn’t very tall, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in build. The rumor was that he had some Latino mix in his genes, so he was dark with a year-round tan and jet-black hair. However, he had the brightest green eyes Journey had ever seen. The year before, an infamous list had appeared in all the girls’ bathrooms around school. Marcus was listed as ‘Cutest Butt’ and ‘Most Beautiful Eyes’.

  Until that day, Journey had never seen those bright green eyes up close, but there they were, taking a close inventory of her. He turned toward David and slapped him on the chest. “Coach Smith wants to see us before the end of the day. I told him I would let you know.”

  Journey wondered if she merited a proper introduction from one member of the jock squad to another. She was surprised when it seemed she did. David pointed at her. “Marcus, you know Journey, right?”

  Marcus nodded his head. “Yeah, I’ve seen you around. Nice shirt.”

  She shifted awkwardly on her feet and wondered if he was serious or making fun of her black, vintage Metallica t-shirt. “Uh, thanks.”

  David nudged her with his elbow. “Are you coming to the game tonight?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

  He flashed her a genuine smile. Marcus hooked his arm around David’s neck and began pulling him backward down the hall. “Cool. I’ll look for you!” he called out.

  Journey and Kara stared after him for a moment before Kara peered down at her. “What was that all about?”

  Journey shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  Brandon finally turned off the buzzing tattoo gun. “That’s it. You’re all done.” He wiped a cool cloth over her throbbing leg and foot.

  Marcus stepped over beside her and nodded with approval. “Wow.”

  Kara walked back inside from her fifth smoke break since they had arrived and joined them at Marcus’s side. “Are you done?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Journey said, wincing with pain as she stood. She stepped in front of the mirror on the wall and turned her leg in different directions to admire the work. “Oh Brandon, it’s awesome!” She took a step closer to get a better look. It was exactly what she wanted.

  Kara clapped her hands together. “It’s beautiful!”

  Journey spun around and wrapped her arms around Brandon’s neck. “Thank you so much!”

  He squirmed uncomfortably until she released him. “Fantastic. Now pay me and get the hell out of here before someone asks questions.”

  Journey laughed as he bent to cover her new ink with a sterile bandage.

  Marcus pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “You guys go outside. I’ll be there in a second.”

  Obediently, Journey and Kara walked out into the bright Southern sunlight. Journey looked up at her friend. “Do you really like it?”

  “I seriously love it,” Kara replied. “I’m a little jealous. When are you going to draw one for me?”

  “Whenever you want.”

  Marcus walked out the door and slipped on his sunglasses. Journey grasped his arm and planted a loud smacking kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Marcus,” she sang in his ear.

  He sighed and shook his head. “You’d better be thankful. I’ve never spent money like that on a chick before.”

  She tugged on his arm. “I love you. You know that right?”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Journey was no longer awkward around Marcus. That all ended the day he broke down and confessed that he regularly visited the tanning salon, and he wore green contacts. She had laughed until he got up and left the room. The truth was, even Marcus was as insecure as the rest of them.

  “Too bad Dave couldn’t be here for my first tattoo,” Journey said as they walked to Marcus’s black truck.

  “Is he coming to your birthday party?” Kara asked.

  “Yeah, he’ll be there,” Journey answered. She slid into the middle seat between her friends and propped her throbbing leg up on the dashboard.

  “Sore?” Marcus asked with a grin as he started the truck.

  “Not unless I touch it.” Journey laughed and squeezed his shoulder. “How’s that arm?”

  He yelped with pain. “Son of a…!” he shouted, shoving her into Kara.

  She laughed as he threw the truck into reverse and pulled out onto the highway in the direction of Journey’s house.

  Her parents were having a barbecue in honor of her birthda
y and graduation the night before to ease the guilt they felt about their departing flight the next morning. Journey knew it had the potential to become a ‘war of the worlds’ type of event between Journey’s motley crew and half of the First Baptist Church that her mother had no doubt invited. Sure enough, when they pulled in she saw that Steven Drake was waiting in his rebuilt, 1970s black Chevelle. Her pot-head boyfriend was parked right next to the preacher.

  Marcus shook his head and put the truck in park. “I can’t believe you’re still with him.”

  Journey pointed toward Steven. “Look at him. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Steven’s black hair was still wet from the shower and it was pulled into a short ponytail. He was wearing her favorite dark blue jeans and a 50’s style, navy mechanic’s work shirt with the sleeves rolled to display his heavily tattooed arms. Journey’s stomach still fluttered every time she looked at him.

  Marcus rolled his eyes and yanked the key from the ignition.

  Steven greeted her with a kiss when she slid out of the truck. The smell of his cologne nearly made her dizzy. The scent was the same one she had bought David for his birthday the year before. I wonder if he knows that, she thought.

  Steven tugged on her belt loop with questioning eyes. “Did you get it?”

  She smiled up at him and proudly propped her leg up on the fender of Marcus’s truck. “Sure did,” she said. Gently, she lifted the edge of the bandage. “My friends bought it for me for my birthday.”