Easy-breezy chapter right ahead! No drama. Mucho gracias to Di, Aileen, Paige and Lizzie.
Blackbird
Chapter 7
. . . . .
The next morning, Bella woke early while it was still dark. Outside, she heard the gentle crash of the waves hitting the beach, and she lay there listening, reveling in the peacefulness. Last night, that sound had lulled her to sleep, but now, she was wide-awake.
When she rolled over to check the time, she saw it was only four a.m.
Carefully, she unwound herself from Edward's arm and slipped out of the bed. Jake's head lifted, then he rose to come stand beside her. Her fingers scratched behind his ears absentmindedly as she gazed at Edward. He was still asleep, bottom lip puckered as if inviting a kiss, his heavily muscled arm flung across her side of the bed.
He was a snuggler, and Bella loved it.
She was also a cuddler, she realized with surprise. And a hand-holder. At least with him.
They fell asleep entwined, and woke up still near each other. Fortunately, she wasn't the type who had bad dreams, but she knew if she had, Edward would have done his best to comfort her. He was a protector through-and-through. Bella had never felt so safe, so cared for. Or, so genuinely enjoyed as a person, just for her company and nothing else. Edward enjoyed little things like playing Frisbee with Jake, building a castle with a moat in the sand, and watching TV with her, while they fed each other French fries.
Under his gentle, affectionate attention, she felt as if she was blossoming, as if she was being given back the soul she'd been unaware she'd lost. She was free just to be herself, which was something she hadn't been able to be in years.
There were no words to describe how much it truly meant. The feelings made her want to jump up and down while screaming, crying, and laughing, all at once. Everything she felt inside made her want to hug him hard and never let go.
Pop stardom came with several demands that required her to be on and seen whenever possible. It required a certain way of dressing, of presence, of behaving. While the thought of it now wasn't as cringe-worthy as it was a few days ago, she still wasn't ready to return to that world with all its attendant pressures. No, Hollywood—and her mother—was still too much of an ugly ache in her heart.
Edward sighed and rolled over onto his back, revealing his well-muscled chest, and Bella smiled in appreciation. There with him was exactly where she wanted to be. He was the most considerate person she'd ever known, not that she'd met many people with that trait. Despite all the wrong things she'd done in her life, she'd somehow won the lottery with him that night he'd stopped her from going over the balcony.
I might love you.
Bella didn't know anything about love, but she'd never felt this way before. Her feelings for Edward were different from how she felt about others. Stronger, more intense, and definitely scary. But also, quite lovely.
If she didn't think it would disturb him, she'd have leaned over to kiss him. As it was, she let her fingers caress the bed alongside him.
In the bathroom, she took a good look at herself. Her eyes were bright, clear, and calm. Her skin was flushed with a healthy glow from the sun, and her lips were just the tiniest bit curved in a smile.
She looked happy. Peaceful.
As she stared at herself, she noticed one of the pieces of her hair weave was coming loose. It bothered her. Could she remove it?
Before she knew what she was doing, she had her purse's pocket knife in her hand. It took some trial and effort, but methodically, she began removing all of the pieces of her extensive weave. As she withdrew each one, she felt lighter and lighter.
There went a long section of her anxiety.
Next, a little bit of anger.
Then, two pieces of pressure and frustration.
So long, heavy chunks of stress.
Goodbye, perfect head of hair that isn't mine.
When she was done, Bella had a lump in her throat as she looked at the girl in the mirror. Without all the hair, she no longer looked like a popstar; she simply looked like the girl next door. But she looked like her—a girl she hadn't seen in so long.
"Hi," she whispered. "I've missed you."
Would Edward mind now that she had far less hair? What she had left fell just past her shoulders. Without the fullness and length, she looked entirely different. Not bad, just different.
Peeking out the bathroom door, Bella saw Edward was still asleep, that he'd turned over onto his side. She didn't know whether to be glad he hadn't noticed she was gone, or sad. Apparently, he slept as hard as she did.
She took a quick shower, then tiptoed from the room with Jake to walk along the beach. It was still and quiet, and the sun was just rising. Bella felt as if she and the dog were the only ones awake. Walking backward along the water's edge, she watched herself leave a trail of footprints. Then, she turned and ran, Jake trotting beside her, letting the wind dry her hair. Without the weight of the weave, it shrunk into loose curls, the ends brushing her shoulders.
If only she could bottle this sense of healing, of freedom, and take it out when she needed to. Maybe she should write a song about it? Unbidden, a few lines of lyrics came to her mind.
As I dive in without my wings . . . at the speed of light, I'm flying to my end . . .
She imagined the melody in her head, slow and dark like Nina Simone's Blackbird, but then picking up energetically after rebirth.
I'm free at last, free from you . . . free from the past.
She thought it was good. It felt like she was onto something, anyway.
When she and Jake finally returned to the room, Edward was yawning and stretching. Peeking around the corner, Bella watched him notice her absence, then raise his head toward the bathroom, listening for her.
She hung back while Jake went to greet him. Overcome by shyness, she flinched when his head swung her way. She kept her eyes on her toes as the sheets rustled with his movement.
He was coming toward her.
But he was quiet, so she risked a glance up at him.
His mouth was curved into a gentle smile, and seeing it made her smile back. Her head tilted in question.
Do you like me like this?
And his lips quickened into his full beam smile. He took one more step, then he was in front of her, his hands cupping her face.
She gasped at the tender look in his eyes as his fingers cradled the back of her head, and he brought his lips to hers, kissing her lingeringly. Then, he pressed his lips against her forehead before moving to the crown of her head, where he left another kiss against her hair.
As he rested his forehead against hers, Bella laughed with joy and relief, then threw her arms around his shoulders.
He didn't need the popstar with all the hair. He wanted her.
. . .
Later that day, he took her to a nearby market in downtown Tijuana.
The road was bordered on both sides by cream and burnt orange stucco hotels and apartments. Their decorative balconies with wood trim overlooked the storefronts below, where the locals sold tourists their wares. Large, leafy trees with red blooms grew alongside the street, and gaily colored party flags arched overhead, suspended from their branches.
It was a burst of color and noise. Piñatas hung almost everywhere, swaying gently in the breeze. A mariachi band, wearing fancy black sombreros with gold trim, played in front of one of the restaurants. Scents of bananas, cinnamon, and spiced beef and chicken, filled the air.
"This is amazing," Bella said, the joy evident in her voice as they made their way past a shop that sold nothing but scarves. Next to it, colorful string puppets were sold. Beyond that were colorful woven baskets and straw hats. Each store's merchandise was an unexpected surprise as they came upon it.
Past the churros shop was a T-shirt boutique, where Bella stopped with an excited squeal. Edward gave her a dry look of askance. Of all the places to catch her attention, it was an Americanized shop of printed T-shirts?
She lowered the black sunglasses on her nose to give him a playful stare. "Come on, you need an I heart Mexico shirt," she told him, her laughter tinkling as he winced.
So they bought one, and he removed his old shirt for a new one with kitschy black lettering and a big red heart. As they moved along the sidewalk, he could feel himself shaking his head as he imagined how he looked—like a garish tourist. But it made Bella smile, so it was all good.
Directly across from the painted face masks was a jewelry vendor. Hoping for a sale as they drew near, the lady in an airy yellow top began bantering at them.
"Silver, silver, silver necklace," she said melodically. "Beautiful silver for your beautiful señorita, señor."
Bella turned and grinned at him.
"Silver here very cheap, very cheap, mister."
Bella stepped up to the vendor's table, her attention caught by one of the chunky-link bracelets for men.
"No," Edward said. "We can't afford it. We just bought this fancy T-shirt."
"What?" she cried with a laugh. "Give me the money."
Edward folded his arms across his chest, then nodded once at the bracelet. "No, it's like six meals."
Bella was going to dig her heels in, he could see. "I'm good for it," she said, side glancing at him while pursing her lips.
Oh, the side glance and lip-purse.
"Really?" he asked with another look at what had caught her interest. He didn't need a bracelet. Other than his watch, he wasn't really the type who wore jewelry. Why was she pushing this?
"Yes," she insisted.
"Check your pockets. You are B-R-O-K-E, broke, so come on, let's go. Vamos."
He grabbed her arm, tugged on it a little. Turning, he left the stall, fully expecting her to follow.
A moment later, he noticed Bella was still back at the table. She was handing one of her diamond cushion earrings to the yellow-shirted vendor.
He hurried back to her. "What are you doing?"
"Gracias, gracias, señorita," the vendor said, as Bella handed over the second earring.
"Are you honestly doing this?" he asked again, and she shoved her sunglasses onto the top of her head. She winked at him, beautiful and flirty.
Bella accepted the silver bracelet from the lady, then turned to Edward with a tiny smile. Damn, that gorgeous smile. Her cinnamon eyes sparkled, entrancing him as the sunlight picked out the gold flecks. Reaching out for his wrist, she fastened the links around him quickly. Then, still holding him by the hand, she spoke.
"This is worth way more than the earrings," she told him with a serious tone. "This is a merit badge. You have to earn these."
He huffed out a short laugh of disbelief, but she wasn't done. Her fingers curled around both his wrists, lifting them up between them like a prayer. The look in her eyes was one of grave sincerity.
"This is for giving me the finger the first night we met," she began dryly. "For saying I love you and meaning it, even if it was just for a second. For not caring about the fame. For standing here with me at this moment. And for truth, justice, and the American way," she finished with a smile in her voice.
The bracelet was warm and solid around his wrist, yet probably worth less than a tenth of what she'd just given up. But it was important to her, this tangible gift she'd imbued with so much meaning, so it became important to him, too.
"Thank you," he said, and cupping her cheeks, kissed her.
Her eyes were glassy with tears and other unspoken words, and he hugged her tightly to his side.
"Hey, I'm sorry to bother you, but would you mind taking a picture?"
Edward couldn't help tensing. That someone recognized Bella there, during a private moment, made him angry.
Under his arm, Bella also stiffened as they turned to face the speaker. It was a young man with a happy, hopeful smile on his face, and seeing him, Bella's posture relaxed.
"Sure," she said.
The man's face brightened even more. "Thanks!"
He handed Bella his phone, then moved a few paces away to stand with a girl who was gazing at them with her own big smile.
It became suddenly apparent that the two of them wanted a photo taken of them, not with Bella.
Hiding a smile, Bella gave him a look. She was more than a little taken aback, but trying not to show it. Raising the phone, she aimed the camera lens their way.
"Ready?"
Once the photo was taken, the young man stepped forward again to retrieve his phone. His gratitude was infectious, especially since they'd misunderstood his request.
"Thanks again," the man said.
Afterward, the look Bella gave Edward was one of pure spun sunlight. She seemed to be floating on air as she removed her sunglasses, hanging them from the collar of her shirt, almost skipping as they moved along.
For brunch, they stopped at an outdoor cantina with a karaoke machine. As they sat and sipped on mimosas, they watched a guy hamming it up on stage. He wasn't that good, but it seemed as if he knew it and was playing it up. He was deliberately massacring the words, and he was hilarious.
"One, two, three, four
Come on, baby, say you love me.
Five, six, seven times!"
When the song finished, he dropped the microphone on the floor with attitude and an exaggerated pose, and everyone laughed, clapping and cheering.
"Get up there," Bella said.
Edward swiveled in his chair. "What?"
She leaned his way with a sparkle in her eyes. "You wanted to know what it feels like, remember?"
Was she kidding? "I'm not that drunk," he answered.
"Are you telling me you're scared? The flying thing was bad enough."
"Oh, it's like that?" he asked, and she gave him a smirk, eyebrow arched.
"OK, all right," he said. Wincing at the challenging look on her face, he took a long pull from his drink, then stood.
Aiming a playful glare at her, he walked up to the small stage amid cheers. He was a little buzzed, which definitely helped, because he was out of his comfort zone. He didn't mind speaking, but he wasn't good at singing. At all.
Flipping through the list of songs, Edward chose the first one he recognized: Can You Stand the Rain by Nate Parker. An oldie.
As the music started, he brought the microphone to his mouth. "I'm dedicating this song to my lady sitting right over there at the bar," he said, as Bella brought a hand up to cover her eyes in embarrassment. He fought not to laugh.
"Aww," someone in the audience said.
He began, and it was as bad as he anticipated.
"Oooo,
Oooo,
Come on, yeah."
Yep, he was off key, too high.
"On a perfect day
I know I can count on you,
Oooo."
There were some definite grimaces on the faces in the audience, but he pressed on.
"Sing it, dude!"
"And I neeeeed somebody
who can stand by me,
through the good times
and bad times.
You will always be,
be right there for me,
EEE-ee."
Now there were actual boos, but he was on a terrible roll. Bella had asked for it.
As he continued the song, singing it more thinly, more horrifically, the boos increased. He heard his voice, and it sounded like he was in pain. It prompted Bella to walk-dance her way up to the stage where he was. As she moved, doing a funny little hop, she was also cringing at him.
"You think you can do better?" he asked into the microphone when she got close enough.
Straightening, she grinned and flashed him a dirty look.
"Let's see what you got," he added, beckoning her onto the stage.
The audience agreed enthusiastically, and Bella turned to them as they began calling to her.
"Yeah!"
"Please!"
"Come on, we need somebody else!"
After she stepped reluctantly onto the stage, Edward passed her the mic with a smile. She shook her head at him, then moved to place it in the stand.
Taking a few steps back from the small, raised platform, he remained nearby. While he might have engineered the whole thing to get her up there, he also thought it was something she needed: pure, unbiased attention and love from people who didn't know who she really was.
"Hey," Bella said. "Hola."
She was a little tentative with her speech, but he was relieved to see she seemed wholly at ease.
"I'm gonna sing this song, but I don't think they have the music," she told the audience. "So . . . I'm just gonna sing it a cappella."
Her hands came up to cup the microphone and she closed her eyes, taking a breath. After a long moment, she began to sing.
"Why you wanna fly
Blackbird?
You ain't ever gonna fly."
Her words were slow, giving the words space, dark with torment.
"No place big enough for holdin'
All the tears you're gonna cry.
'Cause your mama's name was lonely.
And your daddy's name was pain."
Tears fell from her still closed eyes, and his gut clenched as her face reflected the pain in her voice as she sang.
"And they called you little sorrow
'cause you'll never love again.
You ain't got no one to hold you.
You ain't got no one to care."
There was complete silence among the audience as her torn songbird's voice bared her heart, seeming to captivate everyone who heard.
His own heart slammed in his chest at her power. He was blown away.
"If you'd only understand, dear,
nobody
wants you anywhere.
So why you wanna fly,
Blackbird?
You ain't ever gonna fly."
As she finished the song and opened her eyes, there was an eruption of whistles, catcalls, and cheers. A few were even crying along with Bella, but she only had eyes for Edward. He opened his arms to her and she flew down at him, coming against him hard.
"That was the first song I ever sang," she whispered, looking stunned and amazed as she gazed up at him.
Thumbing away the tears on her cheeks, he smiled, saying the only thing he could at the moment.
"Wow."
As she came back to herself, came back to the little stage in the streetside cantina and heard everyone's love, Bella couldn't describe the sense of absolution.
It felt as if she'd won the talent contest she'd lost that horrible day of her first public performance.
It was thirteen years since she'd sung that song. Before today, she hadn't wanted to sing it, hadn't been able to get past the memories of that painful day. And she didn't know what odd chance had made her try it today, but she was so glad she did.
As another piece of her terrible past lifted from her shoulders, she was euphoric as she stood wrapped in Edward's arms.
"Wow," he said again as he stared into her eyes, and she got lost in the utter wonder and beauty of his gaze. Bella could see he was unreservedly stunned and proud. There was no side judgment or criticism in his gaze. It was freeing, and she felt light as a feather.
"Drinks on la hacienda," the bartender said from behind them, and they turned to see two fresh mimosas with extra fruit on the counter. The mustachioed man under a woven, straw hat winked at Bella.
"La mejor performance, señorita. Business will boom because of it. Drink up!"
. . .
Returning to their motel later that night, it was warm outside and a full moon lit the sky. The rolling wave caps were almost neon white as they washed up on shore with a gentle crash.
They weren't even all the way inside their room when Bella began shoving Edward's I Heart Mexico T-shirt up his stomach. Growling, she bent to kiss the revealed skin, to run her tongue across the smooth dips and curves.
Gasping, Edward fell back against the door, his hands on her shoulders as she pressed her nose up between his pecs.
"I want you," she growled.
He huffed out a laugh. "I can tell."
She caught his hand, then backed away from the door, pulling him toward the bed as she dared him with her eyes. When her knees hit the side of the mattress, she collapsed and pulled him down with her.
Their mouths fused, their hands entwining. Edward was sexy, flirty, and beautiful on the inside, too. She wanted to make him hers, wanted him to desire her like she desired him. As he came up hard and ready against her body, rocking his hips into the cradle of hers where she needed him most, it seemed as if he did.
As they broke apart, his eyes were intense and hooded as he stared down at her, his jaw taut. He pressed her hands against the bed, pushing them up, then gathering them into one of his. His fingers trailed along her skin, slowly inching up her shirt. When he flattened his hand against her skin, it covered almost her entire stomach.
"I can feel you shaking," he whispered as he leaned close.
His breath tickled her ear, making her hair stand on end. She started shuddering when his prickly cheek rubbed against hers. He was all man, rough against her softness. He smelled amazing, tangy and like sweet musk.
God, how he affected her was amazing and crazy. She wanted to be with him fully, with nothing in between them.
"I have an IUD," she told him. "And I've just been tested and I'm clean. I've always used condoms, too," she added. "But you don't have to. If you don't want to, that is."
Edward closed his eyes tightly, letting out something between a laugh and a groan. Bella thought she hadn't seen anyone so beautiful in her life; arousal was a good look on him. But he looked good no matter what he was doing. Edward was one of those rare individuals who looked gorgeous even when he was angry.
When he opened his eyes and she saw his fiery gaze, she began to pulse from deep inside. Everything else seemed to fade away.
"I'm clean, too," he said simply, and Bella's mouth went dry. He slid a hand up the inside of her thigh, his fingers delving into the crotch of the little shorts and pushing her panties aside, until he found her wet and ready for him. She arched against his touch, but even spreading her legs wasn't enough.
"Off," she said with a pointed look at his jeans, as she began pushing her shorts and panties down her legs.
Bella bit her lip as he followed her instructions, and his erection sprang free, hitting against his stomach. He yanked off his shirt, then he was on her, tugging her shirt up and loose. Her bra was a front clasp that he undid with his teeth, and she laughed breathlessly.
He pressed his hot, strong body against hers, igniting the fire ever higher. When their eyes met, his were a hazy green, his face flushed.
"I want to kiss you all over," he murmured, and gooseflesh broke out along her body.
Then, turning her over onto her stomach, his palm smoothed down her back to her buttocks, his fingers teasing where she ached for him.
Bella was monosyllabic and could only moan his name.
An annoying knocking suddenly registered, dragging Bella from her pleasure daze. She traded a look of confusion with Edward as the knocking continued, sharper this time.
"Damn it," he swore, and sprang up from the bed, reaching for his jeans.
"No," she cried. "Let them knock. They'll go away."
"It's probably the maid. I asked for more water," he said, and bent to press his lips against hers. "Hold that thought, baby."
Bella slammed the palms of her hands down against the bed in frustration. Cockblocked by the maid.
She heard the door open, then heard voices. Many voices, as if there was a crowd outside the door. Surprised, she got to her feet and quickly wrapped the bed sheet around her body.
And then, there was the voice she least expected, or wanted, to hear.
"I need to talk to Bella."
Her mother.
Bella stalked up behind Edward and glared at her. Behind her mother was a throng of paparazzi with their cameras. "You? You did this?" she accused.
Her mother looked frantic and uncomfortable.
"They found you the same way I did," she replied with a shake of her head. "The song you sang this morning? It's all over the internet."
. . .
