Episode 40 Caribbean Storm (Part 3/3) (Patreon)

Jack Routh

“Why did you drag him by his hair like that?” Taylor was playing with her guitar that night, still pouting after her loss in the talent show earlier.

He stopped strumming his own guitar, equally surprised and amused by his friend’s question. No one had asked that before, not Jangus and his men, not the coastguard, and not even his wife. They all seemed to approve of his actions.

He was angry, true. But he was also disgusted by the Prince. As for the dragging by the hair, it was another matter.

“When we boarded the ship, it seemed like the Prince was about to fulfill one of his fetishes on Tamara’s friends.” He began.

“What’s that got to do with dragging him out like that?” The tall blonde asked.

“He had covered himself all over with some fragrant oil or lotion.” He explained, amused at the growing look of disgust on Taylor’s face.

“When he tried to escape, the only part of his body that was dry was his hair, and I wasn’t keen on wrestling a slippery, oiled up sixty-year-old man, juiced up with Viagra that was naked underneath that robe.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Taylor looked like she was about to gag.

“Hence the hair pulling.” He continued speaking. “It was pure luck that nothing else was seen in that camera. I didn’t even know a new crew was there.”

“So all that stuff about that task force…”

“…Is complete bullshit.” He finished for his friend. “Someone higher up must have gotten wind of what was about to happen and wanted a distraction.”

“Dugan. President Michael Dugan.” Taylor was smart, and so he wasn’t surprised that she figured it out so quickly.

“That’s what I suspect happened.” He nodded at her in agreement. “He narrowly won the elections after that debacle with the Girl Scouts, thanks to that incident with Albania. Now, it looked like he wanted to start his second term on a high note. You’ve seen his recent speech.”

“And he looked so sincere too,” Taylor replied and gave a hollow laugh. “And to think he condemned the Prince for sexual abuse. That’s rich, coming from a pedophile. I can’t believe the public is falling for his act.”

“That’s why I don’t have social media accounts.” He explained. “I want to see and hear with my own eyes and ears before I give judgment on every piece of news that comes out.”

“So how do you keep up with modern events then?” The popstar asked.

“Easy.” He strummed his guitar. “I read one popular news source connected to one political party and then read the other one connected to its rival. Somewhere in the middle is the truth.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Taylor commented.

“That’s why it’s not smart to publicly declare your political affiliation.” He shared. “You have more freedom that way, and people will not interpret every little thing you do as support for this party or that movement.”

“This new form of mass media?” He shook his head. “It removes the critical thinking part for the people. They condition you to think and behave in one way or the other. You don’t even need to learn to read to have a political opinion. They edit everything into one, quick, shiny video package that’s easy to digest for the gullible. They even start trends that people easily follow like sheep.”

“Are you teasing me about my attempt at cliptok?” He grinned at the narrowed eyes directed at him. Taylor had gamely danced with Tamara for some cliptok challenge. He appreciated his friend’s effort to put the young teen at ease.

“No.” He replied. “That’s purely entertainment, somewhat harmless.”

“You laughed when we did that hip sway.”

“It was funny.” He admitted.

They settled into a comfortable silence once again, each trying out different combinations of chords in their guitars. Taylor was humming, strumming some music as she sat cross-legged on the couch. How she remained comfortable in that position, he didn’t know.

Deeper into the room, Jessica and Liz were playing a board game with Zoe. He and Taylor were both not in the mood for it and decided to hang out on the terrace, but still within hearing distance of the three women inside.

He thought back to the event of the past two days. With the emergency with his uncle finding Tamara in the middle of the ocean, one crucial thing was overlooked - his origins and the documents related to his past that Martha Shearing gave him. It was clear now why he was abducted, treated like a mere animal for medical experimentation.

Thankfully, the lost memories of this current body proved beneficial in helping him recover from that traumatic past, and with his waking up in this new world, it added the mental boost to his current self, maximizing the benefits of a genetically modified body and his own will that was aided by the three character traits he had inherited.

Still, there was one clear memory he could remember, that of his younger self, in that isolated hospital in the middle of nowhere, looking for the familiar blue car used by his parents. His fingers started to strum a new sequence of chords, one from his own world that was perfectly suited to that haunted memory of a young boy looking for an end to his suffering, eager to see his parents.

“What was that?” He turned to Taylor, who had stopped playing her own guitar.

“Oh. It’s just something that came up.” He looked at his hands, feeling unusually vulnerable at this moment. “I was playing based on some memories of my childhood.”

“Your childhood?” This time it was Zoe’s voice that he heard, and he turned to the other side to see his wife looking unusually serious, the relaxed vibe she had earlier gone. He stared at his wife, and he looked to the side, hoping that she would get the hint.

“I think it’s fine if you tell them.” Zoe gave him a soft smile and sat on the armrest of the chair he was currently sitting in.

“Tell what?” Taylor asked.

“It’s not widely known, but I did lose some of my memories the day I lost my parents.” He explained.

“And after that, you got lost in the system.” Liz joined, sitting across from him on the wooden deck.

“That’s for the public.” He decided to give them a condensed version of the truth. “What actually happened was after that car crash, a rogue government agency kidnapped me and kept me captive for years due to the rarity of my blood type.”

He ignored the look of horror on the faces of the women in front of him and patted his wife’s hand that was on his shoulder. “Luckily, I lost my memories due to trauma, but there was one memory that I could clearly remember and sometimes dream about.”

“My God.” Taylor’s eyes were wide as she stared at him.

“What memory?” Zoe asked.

“I think it was just after I recovered from that car crash.” He revealed. “I don’t know how old I was. I just know I was locked in that basement with a small window overlooking a nearby road. I just remember the pain, the needles, and the relief once it was over. I didn’t even know my parents had died back then, and I kept standing up, using the steel frame of the headboard as a ladder to climb up and peek at the window, waiting for my parents’ blue car.”

He stared back at the sea and continued speaking. “I think one of the nurses told me my parents were with God, but I think I was too young to properly understand what that meant. That made me determined to find God and meet my parents. I was tired of all the pain from the doctor’s experiments.”

“So that’s why you look so tense during medical checkups.” His wife tried to lighten the tone, but the hand on his shoulder had tightened its grip.

“Probably.” He shrugged. “I think I was able to escape one night through the window. I remember walking along the road barefoot, ready to meet God and join my parents.  Morbid, I know, but I didn’t know any better.”

He turned back to his friends. They were silent, but every eye was wet. His wife suddenly jumped on his lap, uncaring of the guitar between them, and hugged him tight.

“You should have told me!” Zoe cried out. “Oh, honey!”

He was soon surrounded by crying girls, each hugging him in turn. He tried to comfort them, but that made Liz and Taylor cry harder, and Jessica still hadn’t let go of his other arm.

It took nearly ten minutes for his friends to calm down, having assured their guests that the rogue outfit was destroyed, thanks to the pressure exerted by his uncle. Zoe dragged a chair so that she could sit closer to him, and that action was followed by their friends. Thankfully, the topic had turned back to the earlier question Taylor had asked.

“No wonder that melody was so haunting,” Taylor commented. The blonde looked uncomfortable, and he could easily see the struggle inside her.

“You want to hear the song, yet you’re worried that it’s too personal.” He smiled at the blonde, who merely flushed and nodded her head.

“I don’t mind.” He smiled. “I think it’s a good way to move past that haunting memory. So does anyone else want to hear it?”

“What a dumb question.” Liz blurted out.

“Of course, you lovable idiot.” Zoe gently pinched him in the arm. “Please play it. I want to hear your lyrics.”

“Alright.” He nodded and strummed the guitar. “This one is called Counting Blue Cars. It think it’s appropriate.”

Zoe Andersen Routh

She watched a he husband started to play, as a storm of emotions boiled within her. It was nearly silent, only the ruffling of the leaves from the nearby trees and the distant sound of waves lapping the beach provided some background.

Her husband, bathed from the full moon of the year, gave his figure an ethereal quality, like he was some spirit that descended from the clouds. They had arranged the chairs so that they were around him in a semicircle with the view from the large terrace as his background. It was an incredible stage.

She looked around, warmth spreading in her chest when she saw that not one of her friends, even Taylor, had pulled out their phones to record his performance. They must have all realized how personal this song was and had given her husband the proper respect he deserved.

Jack started playing the guitar, strumming the strings to give that haunting melody from the sequence of the chords. Then he started singing in a soft, sorrowful style with a strange lightness to it.

[Counting Blue Cars- Dishwalla]

Must have been… mid afternoon

I could tell by how far…

The child’s shadow stretched out,

And he walked with a purpose…

In his sneakers…

Down the street he had…

Many questions, like children often do…

Her breath caught as she visualized the image of her husband, and her heart ached for him. Jack’s mournful tone didn’t help, as it only stirred the emotions she was feeling inside. Anger, hate, and even sorrow. Too bad those bastards were dead.

He said… Tell me all your thoughts on God.

And tell me, am I very far?

That chorus was dangerous. She could hear sniffles from the women beside her. Jack was cruel, singing so beautifully with his haunting tune and those beautiful lyrics.

Must have been… late afternoon

On our way….

The sun broke free from the clouds,

We… count only blue cars…

Skip the cracks…

In the street and ask…

Many questions, like children often do.

She placed a hand over her mouth as Jack mentioned looking for hi parent’s blue car. It was such a heart-wrenching image that she couldn’t bear to even imagine.

We said, Tell me all your thoughts on God…

Cause I’d really like to meet her…

And ask her why we’re who we are….

Tell me all your thoughts on God…

Cause I’m on my way to see her…

So tell me am I very… far….

Am I very far now?

The guitar solo with plucking was amazing, yet she hated this song despite how beautiful it was. She’d never thought she would come to this point since, as his wife, she was the number one fan of his music ever since she heard him playing the piano when they were neighbors and barely knew each other.

It’s getting cold,

Picked up the pace.

How our shoes,

Make hard noises in this place.

Our clothes are stained,

We pass many…

Cross-eyed people…

And ask…

Many questions

Like children often do.

The chorus came again, and she felt Liz's hand gripping hers tight. She realized her friend was deeply affected by the song as well. This was like a beautiful torture.

Tell me all your thoughts on God…

Cause I’d really like to meet her…

And ask her why we’re who we are….

Tell me all your thoughts on God…

Cause I’m on my way to see her…

So tell me am I very… far….

Am I very far now?

Am I very far now?

Am I very far now?

Tell me all your thoughts on God…

Tell me all your thoughts on God…

The song finally ended, and for the very first time, no applause greeted the end of her husband’s performance. He was met instead with a wave of four crying women.

“I never want to hear that song again!” Taylor cried out.

“You didn’t like it?” Jack looked confused.

“Of course, we liked it.” She gave Jack a quick kiss. “It was beautiful, but it was too… painful to listen to, especially after hearing the background of its composition.”

“I’m going to get drunk.” Liz declared. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise after listening to that song.”

She was envious as Taylor and Jessica quickly agreed with the plan, and she was once more left out thanks to her condition. How was she able to sleep then?

Annoyed at the teasing smirks she received from Jessica, she grabbed Jack and forcefully kissed him on the lips as an idea came to her.

“Then I’m going to have my husband fuck me until I pass out.” She smirked. Two can play that game, and she pulled out the nuke.

Taylor Swift

“I swear… that man.” She chugged the glass full of champagne and sighed as the familiar warmth hit her body. She was still stunned by the experience with her friend's impromptu song an hour ago. Once more, Jack made an incredible performance, and she was both giddy at having been able to witness it firsthand and sad upon hearing his history.

“At this point, his performances transcend music into something more.” Liz mused as she stared at her own glass.

The brunette was pensive, and she suddenly remembered the island, the beach, and that golden afternoon in Hawaii. Yes, it was similar to what she just witnessed, but this one was more melancholic and sad.

“You’re talking about the time he sang Amber.”

“And I remember every moment of it to this day,” Liz admitted. “I think it has become a core memory.”

“That song is good, but was it as good as when he sang earlier?” Jessica asked.

“Of course, this had a personal touch.” Liz conceded. “But you have to be there on that beach with that sunset. It was… magical, like this one.”

Jack’s earlier performance gave her an idea about her next project. While she wasn’t working on an album, she and Jack were developing a song during their spare time. It was far from polished, but the structure was already there.

With Jack as the composer and her fine-tuning of the melody and the background pieces, she believed what she had would be suited to her friends. She remembered that both Liz and Jessica had great singing voices, and the brunette could play the bass while her redheaded friend could play the piano. She decided this would be her first project of the New Year, and this time it would be with her friends. She was sure it would be a fun experience.

“I have an idea on a song that Jack wrote that I think we three can pull off.” She pulled a piece of crumpled paper from one of the pockets of her guitar sleeve and smoothed it out on the table. The words were in Jack’s elegant and tidy handwriting in black, along with additional notes from her using her purple pen. “What do you think?”

“Jack wrote this?” Jessica leaned forward to look closer.

“He did.” She smiled. “You should have seen the original version.”

“Where?” Liz asked.

“Flip it over.”

Liz did and her eyes widened when she saw the original lyrics. “The chorus is… Fuck you?”

Jessica laughed. “Why don’t we do both versions?”

“Sure.” She returned their enthusiasm with a smile of her own. “Give me the days you’re available and we’ll work with that as soon as we return to L.A.”

“Can I hear a quick version of the song?” Liz asked. “She’s getting louder.”

“She obviously didn’t close the door to tease us.” Jessica shook her head in resignation.

“Fuck yes! Ram it deeper!”

“Breed me!”

“You’re already pregnant, you slut!” Jessica cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled in the direction of the corridor leading to the master bedroom. Thank all that was holy that Nickolaj and his family were situated in a separate guest house while Tamara occupied the remaining one near the road.

"Oh yes! Yes!"

"She's probably faking it to get back at us since she's jealous she couldn't drink alcohol." Liz sighed. "Start singing already."

“Okay.” She strapped on her guitar and started singing to accompany the strumming. “I see you driving around town with the guy I love, and I’m like… Fuck you!”

“Hey, that’s catchy!” Liz laughed in delight

“More!” Jessica demanded as she finished her bottle.

She joined in the laughter and sang more verses, glad for the change in the atmosphere. Jack’s performance was too powerful, too potent. If she didn’t do what she just did right now, she was pretty sure she would sleep with nightmares about a younger version of Jack Routh, walking along a lonely road at night, searching for his deceased parents, and to his eventual death.