deadly nightshade | fever in, fever out

chapter 52: december thirty-first

Over Thanksgiving and over Christmas, Sam spent the days in her apartment alone: Ruben and Esmé had put a great deal of money into repainting the house and thus she couldn't fly out to visit them, and they couldn't do the same for her, either. She vowed to fly out for a visit at least before the school year was over, but at that point, she wished for some solitude. Time away from everything before she faced the world again; at least some time alone before her twenty second birthday. In the meantime, another year about to end and Sam couldn't help but feel that Cliff was being left behind in late September. All things had gone away and yet she still wished for his presence next to her, and yet she still wished for time alone, especially after such a loaded schedule for that fall term.
Christmas Eve alone, but Aurora and Belinda both had offered to bring her over for at least the next day.
"I at least wanna get you something," Belinda had told her over the phone.
"Of course," Sam assured her, "I just wanna spend some time alone."
"You gonna be alright?" Sam thought back to when Belinda made that joke to her, and even though it was water under the bridge at that point, she knew she wanted to make it up to her.
"Yeah. Positive."
Aurora had gone back out to San Diego to visit her parents for a whole week, and thus Emile was alone for Christmas himself, as far as Sam knew anyways. She wondered what was happening in between them, especially given Aurora never really spoke about it that much to her. But there was more to Belinda that she needed to know about: she only knew her through their classes. Maybe there was something more to her than she had originally believed: maybe there was more to her than meets the eye.
"Bel, I'm going out to Ithaca for New Year's," she told her.
"Oh?"
"Y-You wanna come?" Sam offered with bit of a stammer.
"Um, sure? I gotta go upstate around then anyway. What's in Ithaca?"
"I was invited to sit in for a recording session for—that band Legacy. You know those guys, Legacy?"
"Vaguely, yes? I remember Marla talking about them a few times before but I can't remember if I actually met them, though."
"But yeah, I was invited to sit in with them while they record for their very first album."
"Oh, cool!"
"I don't—really want to go alone, though. I want to spend the holidays alone but I don't want to go to this alone, though. Aurora's out in San Diego right now—"
"And Marla and Charlie are down here in Hell's Kitchen with her parents," Belinda added.
"—I'm the assistant to Aurora if anyone asks."
"What about me?"
"I'll think of something for you," she vowed. "If anyone asks, I'll say that you're a friend of mine and you'll keep it confidential. I mean, I already have told you about it somewhat. I might as well take you with and ask you to keep it under wraps."
"I won't tell a soul," Belinda promised. There was a voice in the background, and she hesitated. "I gotta go, Sam. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Bel," she echoed her, "I'll be going out there on New Year's Eve."
"I'll see you then!" Belinda vowed. "You live in the Bronx, right?"
"Right up on the northern side of the Bronx—two floors upstairs from Frankie."
"Oh, I know exactly where that is! I'll see you then. Merry Christmas, Sam."
"Merry Christmas, Bel."
They hung up at the same time and Sam ran her fingers through her dark hair. It was her first Christmas alone, and before then it was her first Thanksgiving alone, and yet she wanted it all to herself.
She had posted up a cactus on her coffee table and put a little glittered silver star in the soil, right where it pointed out to the rest of the room. Indeed, when she headed back to her bedroom, and turned off the overhead light, the silver sparkled in the low light. It followed her all the way into her bedroom, and when she lay down in her bed to go to sleep, the glittered light shone through the darkness outside of her room.
Sam closed her eyes and she thought about that mysterious man again with the streak in his hair, and he was the last thing on her mind before she fell asleep. No sooner had she fallen asleep when she woke up that Christmas morning. Christmas morning without anyone around her, but she had wished for it. Some time alone with her journal and her art before she went out to Ithaca with Belinda and Legacy.
Joey still had that canvas in the back seat of his car, or maybe he took it out and stashed it away somewhere in that apartment. She thought about Dan and his record player: she still had yet to play her copy of Spreading the Disease. She had to at the very least listen to it before they began work on their new album, whenever that would come about. As far as she knew, they were to make a new one once they returned home from the tour. But the question that rang through her mind until New Year's Eve itself was that of when.
When were Anthrax to head on into the studio for a new record on their part.
On that cold, snowy day, Belinda showed up to the curb in her little black car: she herself was wrapped up in a heavy black overcoat, and a fitted bright green sweatshirt. Her snake pendant twinkled under the bright white glare of the snow. Sam climbed into the passenger seat next to her, also in her black overcoat, and with those hockey gloves Joey had given her.
"So do you know the way?" Belinda asked her as they got rolling forth on the street.
"I sure do—I went there before last month with Eric and Greg. It's like—tucked away in the trees on one side of town."
Belinda nodded and then she leaned back in the leopard print driver's seat with both hands on the wheel. Sam nestled down in the warmth of the seat next to her and tucked her hands into her pockets.
It was at that point Belinda started to feel more of a friend to her, as they wound their way through the trees and into the cold and barren upstate region. A blanket of fresh fallen snow covered everything, but she didn't seem too stressed about driving through that strip of bare dark road in that little car. The snow followed them all the way up to the Finger Lakes region, the dark waters of which appeared colder and blacker with the fresh new snow.
Within time, they reached Ithaca and Sam guided Belinda to that studio nestled back in the woods on the other side of town. Legacy's van was already posted up there outside the front ramp and the doorway, and Sam knew they had already made their way inside of there.
Eric bowed out of that door and he hesitated when he saw the car. Sam opened the front door and poked her head out to the frigid cold: he nodded at the sight of her.
"Oh, hey!" he called out to her, and he turned back to the doorway. "Sam's here—"
Belinda climbed out of the car next.
"—and she's brought a friend with her," he added; their boots crunched over the snow there in the driveway. Belinda gave her blonde hair a slight toss back and Eric raised his eyebrows at her.
"Eric, this is Belinda Grimes," Sam introduced her, "good friend of Marla and is gradually a good friend of mine."
"The beautiful Belinda," Eric declared.
"Or Bel as I go by," Belinda herself added.
"I didn't want to come here by myself," Sam explained as she shivered a bit under her coat, "'cause Aurora's back out in California to visit her parents, so I asked her to come along with me. She'll keep it all under wraps, though."
"My lips are sealed." Belinda made a twisting gesture over her lips.
"Well, good! Uh, well, c'mon in—it's freezing out here and we're letting all the warm air out."
Sam and Belinda followed Eric inside of that front room, a narrow sparsely carpeted bright lit space that resembled to a closet than it did a foyer of sorts. To the left stood the actual studio itself: the door to the sound proof room on the other side of the pane of glass. Louie and his smoothed dark hair inside of that room; Greg had already slung his bass over his shoulder, and Eric himself was right in front of them. Nestled back in that hallway off to the left, Sam recognized his aquiline nose and his deep set eyes, but the little pearl of gray had gone away. He had buried it under the jet black curls about the crown of his head, right under those little bangs. Or so she believed: he nudged his bangs back a little bit and there was no sign of it. The grays were gone.
"What happened to the streak?" she asked him and those deep eyes seemed to slice right through her.
"Dyed it," Alex replied, nonplussed. "I couldn't stand looking at it for any longer."
"I kinda liked it," she told him, to which he shrugged his shoulders.
"Yeah, I did, too," Belinda added, even though she hadn't really met him before.
"It made me look old, though," he said to them with his eyebrows knitted together. Even with the streak buried under the black dye, he still looked older than he actually was, even being eighteen years old, and with a round full face and smooth skin. He continued to frown at Sam.
"Hang on, Aurora's not here with you?" he asked her in a low voice.
"She's out in California visiting her parents. She should be back—I'm not sure when she'll be back, though. Belinda here'll keep everything that happens in here a secret, though."
"Okay, okay—besides this is our first real big thing." Alex fixated on Sam: there was something about those deep eyes, though. Something about them that drew her in: even with that streak hidden away under the black, she found herself wanting to move in closer to him. "If any mistakes happen, you've gotta tell her."
"That's my job," she assured him, and he kept his gaze on her for another couple of seconds before he turned away and headed into the sound proof room. Belinda turned to her with a frightened expression on her face.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked her.
"He's so precocious it's scary," she whispered to Sam.
"That's what I said to Lars," she confessed to her, also in a whisper. "Lars told me he's just really intelligent is all. Being smart ages you. He's really focused, too—it's kind of chilling, I'll admit it."
She turned her attention to Eric right behind her, huddled right over a small black table with a big white sheet of paper taped on top. She stood right next to him for a look herself: it was a full schedule of the residencies there in that studio. On New Year's Day, they were to officially begin recording under the chosen name Legacy. Her eyes wandered down the page when she spotted a familiar name in the middle of January.
"Anthrax are gonna be here, too?" She was stunned.
"Yeah." Eric hesitated and he showed her a baffled look. "Wait a minute. They didn't tell you?"
"No?"
"Well, let's see—it's written in pencil so they must've just allotted the studio time. We're written in pen so it's confirmed that we're here—but them... it looks like their dates were just added."
"Wow! Another round of sit ins, I suppose?"
"If you'd like. You and Aurora work with the label after all."
"Hey, Eric," Louie called from the doorway, and he lifted his head.
"What's up?"
"Did you happen to get a hold of Chuck? Any chance at all?"
Eric shook his head. "He's supposed to be here like any minute, Lou. That's as far as I know."
"Well, what do you think we should do?"
"Yeah, I don't really wanna be up here for a moot point," Alex added: even tucked away in the far corner of the room, his voice was enormous, even from behind a sheet of glass and inside of an otherwise sound proof room. It even caught Sam by surprise.
"Well," Eric started. "We're all here with our instruments, and with Sam and her friend here. Why don't we just jam together?"
"Don't see why not," Louie replied with a shrug of his shoulders, and Eric padded over to him. He left the door ajar for Sam and Belinda to listen in for themselves. Tucked back in the far side of the room was the drum kit: Alex had taken his seat on a stool on the far side of the room with a little cherry red guitar cradled upon his lap. His jet black hair had more of a shine to it, too, and Sam could only assume he had ran the hair dye all throughout his hair.
"Watch this," said Eric as he picked up a black flying V guitar which had already been plugged into the amp on the floor next to him. He took out the pick from the strings and he plucked those strings. Sam thought back to when Anthrax performed for her on that first day, but the riff he played made her think if they had played at a much quicker pace than they did in that room. His black hair spread across his face as he played that hard, rapid fire riff: so fast that it sent a chill up Sam's arms.
"Holy shit," Belinda muttered. He slowed it down by half and not once did he look up at the two girls on the other side of the glass. That sound proof room filled with such a big wall of sound. A big wall of sound made by one man: Sam wanted to pick up a pair of headphones and let them record it right there, but she decided not to, especially when Eric jerked his hand back from the frets as if he had been burned.
"—like guarding a bridge," Greg was saying.
"Pulled it!" Eric yelped.
"Pulled it out of your pussy," Louie joked as he picked up his drum sticks.
"Pulled it out of my pussy, right," Eric retorted with a straight face.
"Your pussy or your ass?"
"Both."
"Your pussy or your dick?"
"Both. I have both, so—"
Alex then looked over at Sam from clear across the room: his deep set eyes gazed back at her as if he watched her every move. Deep and steely like brand new metal under a sheet of ice. They locked eyes for a moment, but it was long enough for her to think about that piece of rice paper in the bottom of the drawer. All the mentions in front of him sent his back closer towards the wall.
Indeed, he moved his gaze to the wall right behind him: his long lanky fingers moved about the upper part of the guitar neck. His guitar wasn't plugged in but Sam could tell he was playing something hard and fast. The drums tapped on the other side of the room, and Sam turned her attention to the kit there. Louie moved the sticks about for a drum roll, and he moved a little bit on the kick drums, but the cold in the room kept him from moving a lot. He stopped, and he reached down for a massage of his ankles with one hand.
"Got a problem, Lewis?" Greg asked him.
"Ankles are kinda sore." He lifted his hand and sat upright. He turned his attention to Sam and Belinda for a few seconds, but then he scooped up his sticks again and he tried again with the snare right in front of him. He tried it again, and he stopped again for another ankle massage.
Sam lowered her gaze to his lap and those filmy black gym shorts. He lifted up again.
"Sorry—I've got an erection right now so I can't really do much more than that," Louie said in a single breath and with a straight face.
"Damn, Lou's hungry right now," Greg remarked.
"A couple of girls in the next room here," Eric pointed out with a nod of his head.
"Nah—no, wait."
Belinda burst out laughing; Sam chuckled a little bit herself but she wondered what Alex was doing right there at the far side of the room. He kept his head down, so his freshly cut bangs accentuated that sharp brow and those deep eyes. He moved his fingers about the neck and he was so tight with it. He moved about in silence, like a ghost, a slender little black haired ghost of a boy. Being smart aged him and yet, even as he was right there on the other side of the room, he still resembled to a young boy. Barely eighteen and he struck her as completely ageless.
She folded her arms over the edge of the panel in front of her. Something about the sheen on his black hair made her think of those ink drawings. Even though his guitar wasn't plugged in, she could hear the music he cranked out for them. A gentle faint plucking against the chatter right next to her. If only she could hear what he was playing for himself, and such that he
"You girls have yet to meet the other bands in this whole grand scheme of things, though," Eric was telling Belinda. "Metallica, Megadeth, Anthrax, and Slayer—everyone is calling them the 'Big Four' because they're kind of the first ones to go to big labels. And then you have us, plus Overkill—Danny Spitz's old band—Exodus, Zetro's new band, and Death Angel—Sam met Death Angel at Cliff's memorial."
"Not exactly," Sam confessed, "I saw them but they wanted more lunch than anything."
That brought a laugh out of both Louie and Greg. "The Big Four." The name itself made Sam chuckle, but she paid more attention to Alex on the other side of the room. He seemed to be in a world of his own compared to them.
"So all you guys behind them are kind of like the little four," Belinda told them.
"The little four?" Eric laughed at that.
"Yeah. Metallica, Megadeth, Anthrax, and Slayer are the big four—you guys, Overkill, Exodus, and Death Angel are the little four. The tier behind them. They're the big head honchos, and you guys are like the little ones holding them up like pillars or something."
"The tiny four," Louie quipped.
"The small fries," Eric added.
"The little itty bitty four," Belinda laughed.
"The four small dicks," Greg quipped. "And the big four are the big four dicks."
"That's a whole lot of dicks," Eric added. "The big four dicks are the hot ones."
"Who says the little dicks can't be hot, though?" Sam blurted out, and they all laughed out loud at that: Alex snapped his eyes shut and bowed his head. She had no idea if he was laughing at that but then he shook his hand about. He returned to the frets as if nothing happened.
"How's our lead doing?" Eric asked Alex, who finally raised his head a bit: the bangs still hid his eyes away from view.
"I'm just making it up as I go along," he said, "I watched a Miles Davis concert on TV a couple of months ago and ever since then, I wanted to do what he was doing there."
"Electric era or—?"
"Oh, yeah. Well, of course." Alex gave the ringlets on the side of his head a slight nudge so it revealed his ear and the side of his neck. Something quite graceful about him. But then Belinda turned to Sam again.
"Yeah, he's really precocious." But Sam frowned at that. So what if he was? The boy knew what he wanted out of laugh and that was to play his guitar and add something to the world. Indeed, Sam thought about her own artistry. To make something herself.
It may have been his jet black hair but she thought of herself as she watched him there. She thought of the first time she saw him up on stage, and how he seemed to paint with his fingers, and the guitar was his canvas. This boy was an artist and his playing there on the other side of the room only doubly confirmed that for her.
Meanwhile, Louie played a few drum grooves for them and he finally overcame the pains in his ankles all the while. Greg followed his lead and lay down a bassline for him: even without Eric and Alex with their guitars, their rhythms alone were enough to prove to both Sam and Belinda that they had such strong power. Sam thought about Chuck's powerful voice, and the night she and Cliff got to see them. It had been a full year since she and Cliff saw them in San Francisco, and she could still imagine Chuck there on stage as if it had just happened.
Within time, Eric joined in with that rapid fire riff and the three of them plowed forth. Alex finally leaned to the side and plugged in his guitar. The two girls on the other side of the glass watched the four young men, four artists in their prime, begin their very first master piece.
Sam recognized the song "Over the Wall" and she attempted to sing Zetro's shrill lyrics even though she only heard the song once before in L'Amour. But Alex's insistence on improvising extended it into this long elaborate jam session. At one point, he stood to his feet and strode about the room. He progressed high and low and every so often, he stepped on one of the pedals there on the floor for a different effect.
"Turning into the Grateful Dead in here," Louie shouted in between tight drum beats.
They were in there for another half hour, and the three of them followed Alex's lead, until Eric returned to the door with the guitar slung over his back.
"We're gonna be here a while," he told Sam.
"And Chuck's still not here yet," she pointed out.
"And Chuck's still not here, right! And it's not like we're recording as of yet, either. I think you girls can go out and stretch your legs for a bit. Get yourselves something to eat. We are in Ithaca, after all. Not like we're going anywhere."
"True."
Sam then led Belinda back outside, where the clouds broke enough to show off the pure blue sky, but not enough to warrant sunshine over Finger Lakes. The cold of the snow felt so sharp after being in that warm room for so long; it was right then Sam started to feel hungry.
"There is just shit all to say," she remarked as she walked to the driveway first. "It all speaks for itself."
"It really does," Belinda followed as she rubbed her hands together. "And how exciting, too! We're seeing these bands from the ground up."
"Well, these guys are coming from the ground up, though. Anthrax has already put out a few albums, and Stormtroopers is kind of a spin off to them—but these guys are brand new, though. We're watching them start out fresh and new. We're watching Alex start out fresh and new."
"Kind of makes you wish we could see Anthrax from the very beginning." They stopped outside of her car.
"Well, that's really simple," Sam explained. "Neither of us were here—well, I wasn't. You grew up down in Hell's Kitchen with Marla, and you guys hadn't met Charlie yet. The two of you grew up thirty minutes away from him and Frankie. So seeing them advanced along a bit, we started ahead in the watch process. So seeing these guys from the very beginning, we kind of have an idea as to what the future holds for them. Or least I do—I don't know about you, Bel."
"Yeah, I've never really sat in with a band before. Charlie and I did hang out with that guy John—John Tempesta—when Charlie first met Marla, though."
"Really?"
"Yeah. We were in this place in Brooklyn called the Iridium together and he bought us both a drink. Kind of an interesting night, though. We thought there were creatures coming out of the walls at one point."
"Oh, my god." Sam chuckled at that. She peered about the driveway for any signs of life. "I think we can just walk into town. We're literally right here."
"But we're gonna have to walk through snow, though," Belinda pointed out.
"Nah, we won't—besides, Bel, you're from New York. You're used to the cold."
"Yeah, down in the city. Upstate is a whole other world."
"Well, let's at least take a walk, though. It was getting kind of stuffy in there."
Belinda let out a long low whistle and then she nodded her head, and she followed Sam to the end of the driveway. They stood there at the edge of the pavement, and there was a small cafe, to the right of them and up the street.
"Hey, there's Joey," Belinda pointed out, and Sam's heart skipped a few beats. Sure enough, there Joey was on the other side of the pavement: his black curls streamed down his back and over a light red and white striped knit scarf wrapped around his neck, and he wore a fitted black peacoat so he appeared thinner and lankier than before. He waved and showed them a lopsided smile, and then he peered both ways before he crossed the street. Sam turned to Belinda yet again.
"Okay," she began in a low voice, "if he asks us where we've been or why we're up here right now, tell him we just came here for New Year's."
"Why?" Belinda frowned at that.
"He—" Sam peered behind her to ensure that Joey was still out of earshot. "He and Alex got into a fight a while back, and he's kind of vindicative about Legacy themselves."
"Really?" Belinda raised her eyebrows at that.
"Yeah. It was insane, Bel. He and Alex got outside and he pushed him."
"He pushed him?" Sam set a hand on her to get to keep her voice down. "But what if he asks why we're here by the studio, though? Especially with Anthrax coming here and whatnot."
"Shit, I forgot about that! Um, let's just tell him that we're here to check the place out. And I'll tell you more about the pushing incident later on, too—" She stopped right in her tracks just as Joey strolled up to them with his hands on the lapels.
"Hey, you!" he greeted Sam.
"Hey, Joey," she returned the favor.
"And Belinda," he continued, "you're Belinda, right?"
"Little Bel, that's me," she retorted. He craned his neck to the building behind them.
"What's all this?"
"Oh, it's the—studio that you and Anthrax are recording at," Sam replied, and each word that left her lips felt as though she was having to force herself to say it.
"Oh, yeah, I remember this place," said Joey. "Pyramid." He stopped and he took another look. "Who else is here?"
"Maintenance," Belinda filled in with haste and a clearing of her throat.
"Uh, yeah," Sam added with even more haste, "—we just came over here to check it out. We really only came up here to Ithaca for New Year's." She rubbed her nose. "What's up with you? What're you doing?"
"I just came here to see the place myself," he answered as he lunged forward, but Sam and Belinda stepped in front of him.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Joey," Sam assured him.
"Yeah—the place is kind of a mess," Belinda joined in.
"Well, I at least wanna see the front door, though. Lived and did stuff in upstate my whole life and would you believe I've never been here before? And besides, why is your car here?"
"It's a good place to park," Belinda said at a rapid clip. "We're coming right back for it, though. It's nothing to split hairs over."
"Okay," Joey said, reluctant and with a befuddled look on his face.
"Um, you wanna get something to eat?" Sam offered him.
"I just ate, thank you, though."
"Shit—well, it's pretty cold out here—don't ya wanna go into that restaurant there?"
"We can't go in there?"
"It's a mess, Joey!" Sam exclaimed. "An absolute madhouse!"
"Hey, that song was a hit!" he said with a snap of his fingers.
"What song?"
"'Madhouse'! We got asked to make a music video for it—have you seen it?"
"I haven't, no."
"Don't think I have, either," Belinda added.
"Oh, man, I gotta show it to you girls. I hope that restaurant does have TVs in it—I'd like to show it to you both." He wheeled around and stood there at the curb for a second: Sam and Belinda glanced at one another. The latter widened her eyes and let out a quiet sigh; the former opened her mouth but no sound came out. Joey then led them across the dark pavement to the low restaurant there on the other side, hugged by a few evergreen trees and some scraggly barren oak trees.
He held the door for them as they made their way inside. Warm and sweet with that aroma of coffee and fresh food: he led them to the counter where he took the seat closest to the register. Sam sat down at his left while Belinda took the spot to the left of her. Her eyes were still wide with fear.
"That was close," she mouthed, to which Sam nodded her head. Joey then turned to them once again.
"Did Cliff ever tell you his fascination with pancakes?" he asked Sam in a low voice.
"I don't think he ever did," she confessed.
"Oh. Well—" Joey pointed to the silvery counter in front of them, and the plate of pancakes slathered in syrup and melted butter which awaited to be taken to a nearby table. "—just looking at that fat stack of pancakes right there in front of us made me think of his obsession with pancakes." Sam chuckled at that.
She and Belinda both asked for cups of coffee, but neither of them knew what they wanted to eat. It was the first time in a long time Sam had gone some place and she had no idea as to what she wanted. The thought of Cliff obsessing over pancakes made her curious. There was so much to him that she still didn't know about.
Cried all her tears and yet she still missed him. It was almost too much to bear, especially when she thought about Alex in that room. He and Cliff were both artists in their prime. Both artists, both unknowns to her, and yet they both felt so close to her.
"Excuse me," she finally said at one point: she could feel the firm lump coming to fruition in her throat. She ducked into the hallway around the corner to make it look as though she was headed into the bathrooms. But she lingered there outside of the ladies' room, right next to the door, and the tears made their way forth. She flashed back on the sight of Louie behind that drum kit, and the memory of the five of them in the park so as to honor Cliff: he recognized Zelda almost immediately, even in the tapestry of total darkness, and she could only wonder what was happening between them. He hit those drums rather hard: maybe seeing her there opened something in him. She had no idea.
The mention of Cliff did something to her however. She brought her hands to her face to hide the tears away from prying eyes, but she couldn't cry. No tears to be found in there.
"Sam?" Joey's upstate accent caught her ear and she lifted her head for a look at him there at the far end of the hall. The lopsided grin had given way to a look of concern on his handsome face. He strode closer to her for a better look at her.
"You okay?" he asked her in a gentle voice, to which she bowed her head and kept silent. "Are you alright?"
She still didn't answer.
"That statement was in poor taste, I know," he said in a near whisper.
"What statement?" she asked him as she raised her gaze to him; he stood right in front of her, and he stood so close to her that she could smell the soft cologne on the side of his neck.
"The whole thing with the pancakes. I just—I know how you miss Cliff so much."
"I do, I do—but I swear it's not you, though," she assured him.
"Oh. I just saw you run down here and I could only guess that it was 'cause of that."
"I just—I have my moments," she confessed to him. "I have moments where I miss him more than anything in the world."
She gazed up at him, right into those deep brown eyes. As brown and soft as the earth, the very earth that Cliff had returned to. They locked eyes for a few seconds, but it was enough.
"Joey—" she started.
"What?" He then paused and she pursed her lips together. Her mind went blank, but then he showed her the first bit of that grin yet again.
"Remember when you were in my place and you made that joke about kissin' me?" he recalled in a soft voice.
"How could I forget?"
"Not gonna lie—I think about doin' that." He raised his eyebrows at her.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Absolutely. All the time."
"So—what're you saying?"
He nibbled on his bottom lip and he dropped his gaze to her mouth.
"I didn't have someone to kiss under the mistletoe back on Christmas," he told her in the huskiest voice she ever heard.
"I didn't, either," she added.
"And I don't have someone to kiss when the ball drops tonight."
"Who says we have to have a New Year's kiss, though?"
"Good point." He paused again, and again with a nibble of his bottom lip. "Just an idea." He nodded his head back for her to go back out to the restaurant. "Run along—I gotta use the little boys' room." And with that, Sam bowed out in front of him and she rounded the corner: Belinda still stayed seated at the counter and with a cup of coffee in front of her. But on the far side of the room, Sam noticed the four of them clustered into a booth. She kept going towards them.
"Hey! What're you guys doing here?"
"Remember when Greg made a flippant comment about Louie being hungry?" Eric said to her as he looked up at her like a prince.
"Vaguely."
"Well, as it turns out, the bunch of us are, too."
"Well, Joey's here with me and Bel, so you might wanna keep things down." She made a lowering gesture with her hands and brought her voice down a bit.
"Not a problem," he assured her with a shake of his head. "Alex is a lover not a fighter anyways."
"I fight when I feel like it," Alex himself pointed out as he took a sip of ice water. Sam hoped Joey wouldn't see them there as she returned to Belinda at the counter: and even with the pancakes gone, she still couldn't shake the firm feeling from her throat. First New Year's alone and without Cliff.