Dusk & Dawn

Chapter 14

The entire ride to our destination, Lexi couldn't sit still, bouncing up and down in the front seat and running her hand along Zach's thigh. That left Mason and me in the backseat together, creating an awkward atmosphere akin to enduring a sex education class. We would glance at each other and then quickly avert our gazes, playing a visual game of ping pong.

Once Zach parked the car at Jimmy's, I wasted no time in jumping out. There was something unsettling about the way Mason looked at me when we were alone, without any prying eyes. It made me feel exposed and vulnerable, like he could see straight through me.

"Good luck," I said, playfully punching Mason in the arm. For a brief moment, he looked at me with an intense gaze, as if he wanted to say something. But then he shook his head, smiled, and remained silent. I couldn't help but wonder what was going on with him.

I headed towards the bar where Jim was, taking a seat and trying to appear more relaxed than I actually felt.

"Hey Jimmy! How's life been treating you?" I leaned my elbow on the counter, hoping to come across as casual as possible.

"Pretty good, li'l firecracker. Just put a deposit on an interior decorator to spruce up this old dump a bit. What about you?" Jim asked, giving me his full attention. There was something about him that made me feel like I could confide in him, like a confessional where I could spill my guts.

"Not bad. I have to do a duet with Mason for class next week. I'm a little apprehensive about it, though," I replied, scratching the back of my neck.

"Why's that? He speaks very highly of you," Jim remarked.

"Really? He talks about me?" I couldn't hide my eagerness, but then I quickly felt embarrassed by it.

"Yes, ma'am. I haven't seen him like this since... well, come to think of it, since his parents were still around," Jim's eyes carried a tinge of sadness. My curiosity got the better of me, and I had to ask.

"What happened to his parents?" I whispered, leaning in closer. Jim mirrored my gesture, scanning the surroundings to ensure no one was listening.

"Both his parents died when he was 11. He got placed in the foster system and bounced around from family to family until he turned 18. He's been emancipated ever since," Jim revealed, and a pang of empathy shot through my chest for Mason.

"During those times when he didn't have a place to stay, he used to come here and try to beg alcohol out of me, that little ratbag. Instead of giving him what he wanted, I gave him what he needed—food, a place to stay, and a listening ear—until he found his next family," Jim reminisced, a fondness in his expression.

"But best not be sharing this with anyone, darlin'. Mason is very particular about who he shares things with," Jim cautioned, patting me on the shoulder before preparing shot glasses for the night.

The realization that Mason and I shared a common experience sent a shiver down my spine. We both carried secrets from our pasts, reluctant to share them with anyone. I glanced up at the stage, where the band was setting up their equipment, and my eyes fell upon Mason, crouched on the floor, plugging in electrical leads. I pictured him as an 11-year-old, all alone in the world, devoid of love or guidance. The pain in my chest resurfaced, threatening to bring tears to my eyes. Despite his reputation as a player and troublemaker, no one deserved a life like his.

Mason looked up at me, and I quickly brushed my fingers beneath my eyes, willing the tears away. He began to move his arms like a robot and pretended to squirt imaginary oil into his armpit and elbow crook. I couldn't help but laugh, giving him a small thumbs-up. Warmth filled my heart for him. Perhaps I could go and sit in the front seat with Lexi after all.

Navigating through the scuffed tables and chairs, I made my way to the front table where Lexi sat, holding a tall glass of fluorescent green liquid.

"Oh yay, you're gonna be a groupie with me?" she exclaimed, taking a sip of her drink through a tiny straw.

"Well, I'm not going to sleep with the band, but I'll dance with you, sure," I replied, sitting down and awkwardly crossing and uncrossing my legs before finally settling on an ankle cross.

Within just 10 minutes, the tavern was packed with people, predominantly college students ordering second rounds at the bar. Their incessant shouting grated on my nerves, reminding me of spoiled children. The floor was already sticky from spilled mixed drinks. Just as I contemplated moving further away from the stage and the obnoxious crowd, the lights dimmed, and the band started playing.

The vibrations of the instruments coursed through me, filling me with a pulsating energy that made me feel alive and exhilarated. I resisted the urge to move my body to the music, a task as challenging as holding your breath for an extended period of time.

Back at home, there was a time when dancing consumed my life. I even opted for free dance classes offered by my school instead of participating in inter-school sports. I cherished every moment of it. But one day, my mother discovered me practicing in my room, and chaos ensued. She returned home early from her prayer group, bursting into my bedroom with anger.

"What is this satanic music? How dare you listen to this in MY house!" She seized my stereo and hurled it out the window. Her voice filled with condemnation.
"If you continue dancing like a whore of Babylon, Jesus won't forgive you. You'll burn in hell." She invaded my personal space, grabbing a handful of my hair with a tight grip.

"The next time I catch you dancing, you WILL be punished." The memory of her "punishments" made me flinch. I peeked at Lexi through my bangs, and she met my gaze, setting down her drink. She pulled me up from my seat and began dancing, as if trying to shake the painful memories loose.

"Hands in the air like you just don't care!" Lexi shouted over the music, cupping her hand around her mouth, and lifted my hands along with hers. Wanting to show respect to the band, I sang along to the lyrics, my raised arms pointing towards the stage.

Mason pointed at me before the chorus and joined in singing the lyrics:

"I'll run away with your footsteps I'll build a city that dreams for two And if you lose yourself I will find you."

His gaze never wavered from mine as he strummed his guitar, his white shirt setting him apart from the rest of the band. That peculiar sensation in my chest returned, and a small smile formed on his lips, directed solely at me. He embodied everything my family would disapprove of. Playing the so-called "devil's music," adorned with tattoos, engaging in promiscuous encounters, and who knows what else. Despite feeling an inexplicable and dangerous attraction to him, I faced a choice: Mason or my family. I couldn't have both in my life. I had already brought shame to my family too many times.

I attempted to divert my attention to the other band members. Skeeter's hair glistened with sweat as he pounded his drumsticks against the skins. Zach and Tommy fed off each other's energy, sticking their tongues out and roaming the stage. But no matter how hard I tried, my gaze kept drifting back to Mason. The boys concluded their set with people screaming their names and pumping their fists in the air, cheering. It was the most exhilarating and enjoyable experience I had since being forced out of my home.