Chapter Eleven
Layla
I was determined to prove to Ryder I was okay. In reality, I was ready to curl up and die. My whole body ached like I had the flu. Ryder kept glancing at me when he didn’t think I was looking. He was concerned. That was new. I wasn’t used to anyone being concerned about me. I was too stubborn to give in now.
“Where’d you learn to play guitar?” I started off with an easy question. Truthfully, I wanted to know everything. Today, the door would be open. No more secrets between us. I wanted this. For the first time since my parents were alive, I wanted another person to know me. I wanted to let him in.
“I taught myself. There was this kid in high school, he was a senior, that had a guitar and he was always in the music room every chance he got. I haven’t heard from him in years so I don’t know if he ever made anything of his music, but he could have. He was good. Really good,” Ryder said wistfully as we walked. The sun warmed my back. I was happy it was so warm out. Inside, I was freezing.
“Why didn’t you just learn from him?” I asked, my eyes on a yellow butterfly resting on a flower.
He looked up at the sky and laughed. “I asked. His exact words were, ‘Fuck off, kid. I don’t teach newbies. Learn how to play and then we’ll talk’. So, I did. Eventually, I was good enough that I walked into that music room as he was playing a song and I started playing it too. When we were done, he smirked and said, ‘Awesome, kid. See you took my advice. Name’s Jimmy’. We sat and played every day after school. He said his parents named him after Jimi Hendrix, but the doc didn’t know that so he spells it the way it’s spelled on his birth certificate.”
“Sounds like quite a guy,” I said. “Who’s Jimi Hendrix?”
Ryder stopped in his tracks and looked at me with wide eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not in the least,” I replied nonchalantly.
“Jimi Hendrix was an amazing guitar player in the ‘70’s. He was entirely self-taught and actually couldn’t read music at all. He played the guitar with his fuckin’ teeth, man!”
The excitement in Ryder’s eyes made me smile. I loved listening to him prattle on about this old dead singer who I knew nothing about. It made me forget about the pain in my body and just focus on him.
He knew little facts like Jimi was originally named Johnny Allen Hendrix but his dad had it changed to James Marshall Hendrix because his dad didn’t like the name Johnny for a number of unknown reasons, that there was a plaster mold of his genitalia, and that he had had stage fright as a teen.
“Wow, you know a lot about him,” I said, impressed. We had nearly made it to the center of the park by the time he finished unloading his well of knowledge. I loved the effortless conversation. I couldn’t get enough of it. I wanted to listen to him talk forever. I wanted to bathe in his words and snuggle with them in bed at night. I never wanted to forget the sound of his voice.
He blushed, sitting on the grass. “Yeah, sorry, I can get carried away sometimes.”
I smiled, sitting across from him. “It’s fine. I enjoyed hearing about him. You’re adorable when you’re passionate. Can you play the guitar with your teeth?”
“Not even a little bit,” he said, placing his fingers on the neck of his guitar. He strummed a few chords and hummed. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is,” I agreed. “Will you play for me, Blue Eyes?”
“Name your request, sweetheart,”
“’All Along the Watchtower’,”
He smirked at me. “You looked that up on your phone, didn’t you?”
“Busted,” I laughed, holding up my phone to show him it was open to a Google search of Jimi Hendrix songs.
His fingers strummed a few notes. “You’re in luck. That was one of the first songs I ever learned to play. It was originally a Bob Dylan song but Jimi did it better, in my opinion.”
People started to gather around us as he played. I could tell he liked the attention. He wasn’t afraid like I would have been. He just kept playing. My eyes were on him the entire time.
He lit up like I had never seen when he played. In that moment, I saw that he was born to play the guitar. The crowd, at least a dozen people, clapped and some even cheered for an encore. Ryder grinned at me and happily obliged. Chills went down my spine as he stood up and began to sing.
It was different from the time I’d heard him sing in his bedroom. In his bedroom, he’d been quiet so as not to disturb me. Out here, his voice was powerful, unrestrained. The crowd cheered. I was in stunned silence. It was as if he had become his own personal flame, drawing people in. I was absolutely mesmerized.
“That…That was amazing!” I exclaimed when he finished the song. The crowd began to disperse once they saw the performance was over, a few people clapping him on the shoulder, praising his choice in music and his performance.
His eyes danced with excitement. I noticed his hands were shaking slightly. “I’m glad you thought so. God, playing to a crowd is such a rush! I love it!”
I grinned. My heart was pounding with excitement. I couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. “You’re a natural. It was like I was watching you on a stage playing for millions of people instead of just playing in a park!”
“Thank you, Sweetheart. That really means a lot.” He tried unsuccessfully to hide a blush.
I nudged him with my elbow. “Aw, you’re too cute, Blue Eyes. Or should I start calling you Hendrix now?”
He laughed. “I could never be worthy of the nickname Hendrix. I can’t play like him.”
I shook my head. “You’re already playing like a rock star.”
“Really?” It was so cute how he blushed when I complimented him. He valued my opinion. That made me feel good. I would have to hear him sing more so I could compliment him more.
“Of course! You lit up like a Christmas tree when you played. I got a rush of excitement just watching you.”
Helping me up, we walked to a hot dog cart for lunch. The smell of ketchup, spicy mustard, and relish made my stomach turn. I passed on his offer of roadside meat. He happily munched on his own food as we walked and talked about small things like our favorite places to eat and movies. Neither of us were very avid movie-goers so it wasn’t long until we were walking in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s company.
I was beginning to feel dizzy and my insides felt like they were inside a freezer despite the warm weather. I mentioned the music programs in my school and how it had sucked just to get Ryder talking to distract myself. I was fine. It was just withdrawal symptoms. Nothing I hadn’t gone though before. Only this time was different. I didn’t have any drugs to run to. I was completely out.
“Whoa, Sweetheart, you don’t look so good.” Ryder said, stopping his rant on how music programs were being cut from schools and that was why we ended up with music with no substance to their lyrics. I liked it better when he was doing most of the talking.
I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to listen to him rant about things he was passionate about and not have to talk about how I felt like throwing up and how my brain was ready to bust through my skull. I slowly shook my head, not wanting to move it any more than I had to. “I’m fine.”
“Since you keep insisting you’re fine, and that’s obviously a lie, I’m going to lie and say I’m tired. Let’s go home and take a nap, okay? A nap sounds great, doesn’t it?”
I smiled a little. “Okay, if you’re really tired.”
He grinned. “Oh, I am.”
My heart thumped inside my chest and it was hard to catch my breath. It thumped again like someone had whacked me in the chest with a hammer. I gasped as soon as air was allowed back into my lungs. Someone had just dumped a wheelbarrow full of bricks on my chest. Air wasn’t getting into my lungs a second time. What the hell?
The trees in my line of sight spun. My knees were shaky, almost as if they would let go any minute. Chills hit me, alternating between cold and hot flashes. The urge to throw up the contents of my already empty stomach was overwhelming.
“Um, Ryder?” I didn’t recognize my own voice. It sounded scared and far away.
“Layla, what’s wrong?” Ryder’s voice was scared but calm at the same time. He looked very tense.
I couldn’t hear him very well. The sound was muffled, deafened by the sound of blood rushing in my ears. Suddenly, I felt my body hit the ground and the world went black.
I woke up slowly. I was in a bed. A hospital bed. My left arm stung. There was a needle in it. How ironic.
Ryder was sleeping in a plush arm chair in the corner. Guess he wasn’t lying as much as he thought he was about needing a nap. When the nurse came in, he didn’t even stir.
“Hey there. How are you feeling? Do you know where you are?”
“I know I’m in a hospital, but I’m not quite sure which one. My friend is asleep so he didn’t exactly write it down.” I said wryly. “I feel better. Can I go home?”
The nurse smiled. “No, I’m afraid not. Your heart isn’t doing so well right now. Your friends told us you did drugs. Which ones have you taken?”
“I used to be a heroin user. I haven’t taken anything in…What time is it?”
“It’s seven, sweetie.”
“Seven at night?” I exclaimed.
Her expression barely changed. “You were brought in at noon, the doctors worked on you for an hour, you slept off and on for three hours, coded twice, and you’ve been sleeping comfortably since then. You should be in the clear, but we will be keeping you a few nights for observation.”
“You will?” My stomach churned. I didn’t like the feeling of being cooped up.
“Well, since you are of age, we legally can’t force you to stay but-”
“I want to leave,” I said quickly. The nurse looked a little annoyed that I interrupted her.
“But I advise you to stay at least until tomorrow. Your condition may get worse. You’ll most likely just wind up back here.”
“No, I’ll risk it,” I said.
She sighed. “I’ll go get the paperwork.”
As soon as the nurse left the room, Ryder smirked without opening his eyes. “No, you’re not.”
“What do you mean? You can’t make me stay.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, glaring with the ferocity of a lion. “The hell I can’t. You are not risking your health.”
I rolled my eyes. “My health has been at risk since before you met me.”
He chuckled. “Touché,”
“Now, get ready. We’re leaving.”
His chuckling stopped. “No, you’re not.”
Glaring an execution-style hole in his head, I clenched my fists, holding them close to my stomach so I wouldn’t hit him. “Why not?”
“You leave, you leave my place too.”
I gasped. “Bastard!” The heart monitor spiked.
He smirked again. My hands nearly left my stomach. “Your choice, Sweetheart.”
“You’re not playing fair!”
His blue eyes glinted. “I know you and Lilly have nowhere to go.”
I lay back in bed. “Okay, you win.”
“Good choice, Sweetheart. I’m really hoping you’ll stay around. I like you.”
“Yea, yea, I…like you too.” The heart monitor spiked again. He laughed while I glared a hole the size of Mount Rushmore into his skull.
After a few days of surprisingly good hospital food and Ryder taking off work despite my many, many protests, I was free to go home. Hugging Lilly tightly to my chest, I sat impatiently as a nurse wheeled me out in a wheelchair. I was a little worried. Ryder didn’t own a car. I hoped Ryder wasn’t going to have to push me all the way back to his house in this wheelchair. He might be stupid enough to try. A man waved to us. He was standing next to a dark blue mini Coupe.
“Hey, man. So, this is the famous Layla, huh? Nice to meet you. I’m Dave.” Smoothing his cropped brown hair with one hand, he took my hand, his lips gently brushing my knuckle. He looked like a typical rich preppy college student, not someone I’d imagine Ryder hanging out with. Dave opened the passenger side door for me. I slid in and he shut the door. Wow, I wasn’t used to a gentleman.
“He’s my best friend,” Ryder said, getting in the back seat. “I’ve known him since the day I dropped out of college.”
“You went to college?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
Dave laughed as he shifted into drive and started slowly out of the parking lot. “Believe it or not, yea, he did.”
“I took a few music classes. I wanted to major in music, but it wasn’t for me. Too structured. So, I quit.” Ryder lit up a cigarette and rolled down the window.
“Been trying to get him to take money for the recording studio for years,” Dave said. “But he’s too much of a stubborn ass to take it.” He grinned at Ryder in the rearview mirror.
Ryder took a drag from his cigarette. “And I told you I didn’t want your money. You helped me out more than enough when we met.”
Dave smiled at me. “He was walking off campus with a box of stuff, everything he owned actually, and he looked like a lost puppy. I couldn’t help but invite him to play poker with me and a few of my college buddies. He was cool so I kept him around.”
“The idiot gave me a thousand bucks to furnish the place I live in now.”
Dave laughed. “Well, this idiot worked his tail off to find a job and a few months later, he had me paid back.”
“Wow,” I said, feeling tears in my eyes. The fact that someone could be so generous made me want to cry. I’d never known anyone that would be half as generous to me. I blinked back tears. Catching Ryder’s eye in the rearview mirror, I quickly looked away. If he was going to say anything, he stopped himself. I didn’t know if the fact he stayed silent made me happy or made me want to cry more.
“Do you need anything?” Ryder asked for the hundredth time since we walked in the door ten minutes earlier. I was sitting on the couch. Ryder was buzzing around the room like a nervous caged panther. He looked worse than the first night at the hospital when the nurses told him he had to leave.
I laughed. “Ryder, stop. I’m fine. Come sit down. My heart won’t explode. I promise.”
“Sorry,” he said, sitting beside me. “I can be a real worrier when something goes wrong.”
Before I could think too much about it, I planted a quick, swift kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,”
His eyes were wide. “F-for what?”
“For being so amazing. It wasn’t enough that you gave me a place to stay and cooked for me, even helping me through kicking drugs. You also saved my life by getting me to the hospital so fast. So, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, still clearly dazed by the kiss.
“Well, I need a shower. Then I need to get the paper. I really should start looking for a job.” I jumped up, leaving him to his thoughts.