“How would your songs sound if you could choose yourself?” I ask, sliding my feet from his lap so I can sit up.
“Less noisy.” He flashes a smile and a glance my way before dropping the book back on the coffee table with a sigh. “When I first went solo, the noise suited my anger level, and it worked while I was still angry. But I was in the recording studio today and I realised it’s not there anymore. I don’t have anything left to be angry about.”
“Do you think you need the anger to perform?”
He shakes his head. “No. But my manager would say I need it for my brand. Happiness doesn’t sell records.”
Resting my arm on the back of the couch, I face my body towards him, tucking my legs beneath me. “Is that what you were working on when I got home? A happy song?” Do I make him happy?
He drops his head to the side as he laughs a little, seeming much younger than the man he is. “Sort of.”
“Can you play it for me?”
“Asking me to sing for you again? Sure you’re not a closet fan?”
“Busted.”
He runs his teeth over his bottom lip and picks up his guitar. The strings squeak a little as he positions it on his lap then plucks out a tune, producing a melodious sound like it’s second nature.
Memories of long ago fill my mind and I close my eyes as a swell of emotion builds in my chest. I’m reminded of a time of hope, of playfulness, of child-like wonder. But then I grew up… “That’s beautiful,” I whisper, needing to swallow.
“I visited my parents last night,” he says, still playing his tune.
“Yeah?” I open my eyes to watch his profile as he nods, face forward and thoughtful.
“Mamma was crying about the rift between me and Theo.”
“She wants you to make up?”
He nods. “She had a whole list of things she wanted for me.”
“Mums will do that.”
“Well, I decided she was right. It’s time to grow up.”
“Yeah?”
He nods again. “That’s where this song came from.”
His fingers dance with rapid ease and velvet comes out of his mouth as he sings the lyrics to accompany this beautiful melody.
I took my time creating the distance
that has grown between us
I cut my ties and I realise
I left scars with all my meanness.
I gave my mind to an endless sea
That somehow wouldn’t let me in
I lost my soul
I lost my way
In the ocean when I can’t swim.
He hums before breaking into a strum for the chorus which is surprisingly upbeat and joyful.
Keep your friends close,
Keep your mind strong.
Hmm.
Keep your family close,
Bring your girl along.
Oh, yeah baby.
Keep your friends close,
Keep your mind strong.
Oh, oh, oh.
Tell them all you love them always,
And sing your girl a song.
He laughs through the last couple of words, and I’m surprised to see a blush on his cheeks. I also can’t stop smiling at the glimpse of a boy I’m seeing before me. He’s so cocksure of himself and manly, seeing this openly innocent side of him makes my heart happy.
“It’s not finished,” he says, picking up his pencil to make a quick note in his book. “But I thought, since music was always our thing, it could be an olive branch of sorts.”
“Or you could just call him.” I rest my head against the back of the couch, his song making me feel warm and cosy. “But that doesn’t seem your style.”
Setting his guitar to the side, he rests his head next to mine. “You’re right. I’m a grand gesture kind of person.”
“Marcus Bailey, a man who wears his heart on his sleeve.” I lift my hand and place it against his jaw, my thumb sweeping against his smooth lips. How does this happen? How does the one person I didn’t want in my life manage to slot themselves in so quickly and thoroughly? How am I supposed to give this up?
He kisses the pad of my thumb then catches my hand, running his teeth over my wrist before pressing his lips against my palm.
“I’m a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to say so.”
“And what you want is me? A girl to sing your song to?”
His mouth curls up with a grin. “I’m scaring the fuck out of you, aren’t I?”
I inhale a sharp breath and sit up, pulling away. “You don’t scare me, Marcus.” He petrifies me. “But I hope you’re also a man who knows what he wants for dinner?” Changing the subject, I stand and move into the kitchen, shaking off the heady cloud of desire and need he brings out in me. “We’ll need food if you plan on keeping me up all night again.” Opening the freezer, I dig through my selection of meat, looking for something that will easily feed us both. “I have lamb. And I can probably pull together a beef stir-fry.”
His hands snake around my waist. “Put the meat back in the freezer, Lisa.”
“But we need food.”
“Already taken care of. It’ll be here at seven.”
“You ordered?”
“Yep.”
“How?”
“Menulog.”
“So they know your name?”
“They know Karen’s name. My account runs through her.”
“Oh.” I breathe a little easier.
“I know how to do this, Leis. You need to trust me.”
I close my eyes. “You’re making it really hard for me to push you away tonight,” I say, closing the freezer as I twist in his arms.
His lips quirk. “How about you tell me to fuck off and I’ll ignore you then bend you over the bench top and pound you so hard you scream?”
My insides coil at the thought. He knows me too well. “Fuck off, Marcus,” I murmur, lifting my eyes to meet his.
He winds his hand within my hair. “Say it like you mean it.”
I take a breath, filling my lungs and voice with conviction. “Get the fuck away from me.”
He grins, eyes shining as he tugs my head back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Eleven
Lisa
“I’m taking you out.” Sandra leans both hands on my desk and looks down at me like she means business.
“Right now?” I lift my eyes from the ad copy I’m working on and look at the time. It’s 3:37pm, and this needs to be formatted and sent to my boss by four.
“Tonight, silly,” she says, dropping her butt into the visitor's chair. “You’ve been distracted and a little off these past few weeks, and I can’t help but think I’m to blame for that. I lost my head over that Marcus Bailey thing, and I don’t want it to be the reason we stop being us, you know? I mean, the man has probably left the country by now. I feel seriously stupid and cringe every time I think about how I reacted. So I’m coming over tonight to pick you up and take you out. It’ll be an apology and a best friend date.” She beams like this is the best idea anyone has ever had. “What do you think?”
“Ahh.” I stare at her open-mouthed, not sure how to respond when I know for a fact that Marcus hasn’t left the country. Hell, he’s barely left my house this past few weeks. Especially since his album wrapped a couple of days ago. I almost called in sick today just to stay in bed with him. The man can fuck even better than he can sing. And he has a beautiful voice.
“Say yes. Please? You can’t still be upset with me.”
“Ahh.” I’m not upset with her. I’m avoiding her because I’ve broken girl code in the worst way possible and I can’t seem to stop myself from doing it over and over and over again—not that Marcus would let me stop seeing him even if I wanted to. That man has decided I’m his port of calm in his whirlwind of a life. And I’m OK with that. Even though it’s feeling increasingly harder to face the fact that soon he’ll be back on the road and I’ll lose him to the groupies. No rock star can stay faithf
ul on the road. Just like no actor can stay faithful on the set…
She puts her hands together and bats her lashes, pleading. “Please.”
I shake my head. “I’m really not in the mood, Sandra.” And going out with her will mean I have to miss out on welcome home from work sex. And I love welcome home from work sex.
“I’m begging here. I miss you, Leis. We haven’t talked properly in almost a month. And I’m worried you’re upset with me.”
“I’m not upset with you, Sandra. I promise. It’s just been a long week and I would like to go home and curl up with a glass of wine.” And a rock star’s face between my thighs.
“But you can have wine with me. There’s this great show on tonight in a tiny little venue that will be right up your alley. The place does dinner and a show, and it’s totally low-key. You’ll be completely comfortable.”
“What kind of music?”
“The main act tonight has a bluesy jazzy kind of sound. I think you’d love what this chick does. She’s completely modernising the genre, and it gives you goosebumps. Please say you’ll come.”
I sigh, feeling that familiar tug at my heartstrings that tells me I’m about to cave in. “Where is it?”
“In the city. I’ll pick you up at 6:30 so you can drink as much wine as you like.”
“Fine,” I concede, lifting a shoulder. “6:30 it is. But I don’t want to be home after midnight, and I need to finish what I’m working on so I can leave on time or I won’t be ready.”
“Done!” She jumps up with an excited squeak, tapping her hands together. “I’ll leave you to it. I can’t wait.” She bounds out of my office, her blonde ponytail swishing as she closes the door.
I wait about five seconds then pull out my phone and text Marcus.
Me: I need you to make yourself scarce tonight. Sandra is coming over.
Marcus: tell her you’re busy.
Rock (Beautiful Book 4) Page 12
