Giving in, I reach out and take his hand. “Paige.” I nod, trying to keep my cool. Although, I have to suppress a gasp as our palms connect. It’s as if his life force just travelled up my arm and mingled with mine. I snatch my hand back quickly, hiding it behind my back, as I try to ignore the tingle his hand has left there. No, no. Not again.
A slight longing throbs inside of me. The one that wishes for the life I could have had instead of the one I got. But I squash it down as quickly as it surfaces. I can’t allow myself to seek comfort in the arms of another person again. It’s caused me nothing but pain and rejection.
From the moment my mother stopped holding me as a child, I’ve longed to be held. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this yearning inside me for comfort, for caring. For someone who gave a damn. That longing has caused me to make colossal errors in my life. I’ve fallen into situations that a stronger person would have refused to be a part of, all because I was searching for comfort, searching for love. For acceptance.
But I didn’t find it then, and I never will. Because I need to find comfort within myself. For the rest of my life, my beautiful Phoenix will wraps her wings around my body and hold me tightly until my world ends and I can finally meet her spirit. She was perfect. She was innocent. I hate that I’m here and she’s not. Because I can’t live anymore. I can exist. I can survive. But I can’t live, and I can’t feel, not in the way a man like Elliot would make me. I can’t get caught up in that again.
I turn my attention away from Elliot, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave. I don’t want to feel attracted to him for another moment. When I was young, I had dreams. Dreams about happily ever afters and a life filled with love. Now, I have nightmares, my dreams long dead and buried. People like me, we don’t get happily ever afters. We’re lucky enough just to be alive.
Next in the Beautiful Series - Melody
"He's not into you."
It's the story of my life. Every time I find I guy who's perfect for me, it turns out he prefers my friend instead. They go off and get married. And I'm left smiling through gritted teeth, swearing I'm happy for them. I just have to accept that I'm destined to be perpetually single. Always the bridesmaid and never the bride...
With everyone around me settling down and popping out kids, it's time to focus on my one true love: music. The last time I was truly happy was when I was blending my classical violin training with modern music methods. I need to get back to that. Pronto.
Although, returning to my roots means facing old acquaintances. Namely brothers, Theo and Marcus Bailey. I have...history with them.
Marcus has the reputation of a playboy and knows me intimately, and Theo, well... he just plain hates me. But, when I get the chance to join their already successful band, it's an opportunity too good to pass up. I'll have to swallow my pride for the sake of my career. I'll also have to keep my distance from the Bailey brothers for the sake of the band. Because once I'm back in their lives, I find something in each of them I can't ignore (the fact they're both rock stars and ridiculously hot might have something to do with it.)
I must resist. Because you should never mix business with pleasure. Especially when that pleasure could divide families...
Naomi enters the love triangle of the century when she falls for brothers she can't have. She'll be forced to choose love or fame in Melody: Beautiful Series, three. Containing new and extended scenes from previously published books A Beautiful Melody and Commitment in one breathtaking novel.
Melody
Book Three
Foreword
It’s funny going back to write these books again. Maybe I was a happier person back then, I don’t know…but the scenes I remember being dark and gritty weren’t very dark or gritty at all. Maybe my perspective has just changed? Either way, here is a somewhat grittier version of A Beautiful Melody.
Happy reading.
Prologue
Six years ago…
Naomi
“Where did you get that?” I ask as Erica passes a bottle of Bacardi Rum to Stephanie.
“I swiped it from my Dad,” Amy explains, taking it from Steph. “It’s been hidden in the pantry forever. I don’t even think he knew it was there.” She takes a swig then hands it to me.
Sniffing the bottle before I drink, I’m not sure I’m gonna like this. It smells like petrol mixed with disinfectant.
“Just drink already,” Erica urges. “It won’t kill ya.”
“It’ll put hair on your chest, though.” Stephanie giggles.
“I don’t want hair anywhere it doesn’t belong,” I say, grimacing before I hold my breath and tip the bottle back.
“Yay! That a girl,” Amy cheers, clapping me on the back as I choke. The clear liquid burns my throat and makes my eyes water.
“Holy shit,” I splutter. “That stuff is horrible.”
“It’s just a little liquid courage,” Erica says, taking the bottle from my grip. “We need to go in there and act like we belong.”
“Yeah. Don’t you want to see Marcus playing in his band?” Stephanie teases because I’ve had a crush on him since the beginning of high school. He was the year above us, and any opportunity I got, I followed him around like a lost puppy. He’s so dreamy. And talented too. He’s got an amazing voice, and his guitar skills are second to none. Out of everyone from our performing arts school, I think he’s the one most likely to hit it big. He just has that ‘it’ factor.
“Of course, I want to see him. I just don’t know if he’ll even notice me. I haven’t spoken to him in over a year now.” Not since he finished year twelve and started university. School hasn’t been the same since he left. There are other guys with their guitars at lunchtime, but none possess the same level of talent Marcus does. I long to hear the delicate power in his voice and artful arrangement of chords. Which is why we’re crashing a Sydney University party tonight. Erica’s older cousin goes here and mentioned Marcus’s band Matiari was playing. So here we are. It’ll be the last time I get to see Marcus play before I leave the state on my own musical journey and never look back. I’ve landed a prestigious classical scholarship at the Australian National University’s School of Music. I’ll be touring the globe as a first chair violinist before I know it. Time to say goodbye to my old life. One last shot.
“You have a vagina, don’t you?” Amy states in her usual blunt and deadpan way. “Show him and he’ll notice you. Just don’t expect him to call you in the morning.” She grabs the bottle and throws her head back, chugging down the last of it like it’s water. Impressive.
“He’ll notice you, Nomes,” Stephanie says, slipping her arm in mine as Amy tosses the empty bottle over her shoulder and yells, Onward, bitches. “You look super hot tonight, and you’re not a schoolgirl anymore. You’re an accomplished violinist going to Canberra to become even more amazing. He will be blown away by you, I promise.”
“I hope you’re right.” We trail along behind Erica and Amy who are skipping ahead, already dancing to the party’s music. “I just don’t want to leave and always wonder, ‘what if’. You know?”
She flicks her red hair over her shoulder, giving me a knowing smile. “I know.”
“Come on, slowpokes,” Amy yells, hurrying us along. “It’ll be over before we even get there.”
“We’re coming, we’re coming.” Stephanie and I jog a few steps until we catch up, joining in the little dance party until we’re inside the gate, student housing silhouetted around us as the courtyard teems with noisy people.
“University is amazing,” Erica breathes, her eyes wide as she takes in the party around us.
“This could get crazy,” I say.
"Even better," Amy says, grabbing Erica and dragging her into the fray. Stephanie and I shake our heads laughing at them.
“There he is.” Stephanie nudges me with her elbow and points across the courtyard.
My heart does great big thumps against my ribcage as I swing my eyes in that direction and find Marc
us setting up with his band. He looks ever better than I remember in jeans and a blue shirt displaying corded forearms from his rolled-up sleeves. Damn.
“Maybe you should go over there and remind him who his favourite groupie is.”
Grinning, I bite my lip. “You think?” It’s what he called me at school. His favourite groupie. He'd play guitar, and sometimes I'd join in with my violin. We sounded great together, but he was the real star. I was just the backup to his greatness.
“Absolutely. Get him before the girls throw themselves at him later.”
“He looks busy.” I watch as his head tilts forward, and he focuses on the guitar in his hands. That’s what I’ve always loved about him—how important he finds his music. There’s a whole room of people around him, drinking and having a great time. There’s even girls already trying to get his attention, but he’s so focused on getting ready that he pays them no mind at all. “I’ll wait until the end of their set.”
“Don’t wait too long and miss your window,” Stephanie advises as this guy comes to stand in front of us with a tub full of vodka mixes.
“Lucky dip?” he asks, offering us one.
“Sure,” we both say together, looking in the tub for a flavour we might like.
“No, no. Close your eyes and pick. It’s not fair if you look.”
“Oh, ok.” I laugh, closing my eyes and reaching in. I pull out this red cranberry mix and Stephanie gets passionfruit, which is my favourite.
The guy moves off, offering the drinks to others as he goes along.
“You wanna swap?” she asks, holding out the unopened bottle.
I smile gratefully, and switch drinks with her, loving that she knows me so well. I twist off the cap and take a mouthful, grimacing a little. “It’s flat,” I complain.
“You want to switch back? Mine’s fine,” she asks.
“No, don’t worry about it. I’ll just drink it,” I shrug, throwing the bottle back and taking a long thirsty chug. Even though we’re outside, it’s January, and in typical Sydney summer fashion, it’s awfully humid with only a light breeze blowing to cool us all down.
“Naomi?” I hear from behind me. A familiar voice causes me to turn around until I find myself face to face with an old friend.
“Aramis!” I squeal, jumping up to wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. “Oh my goodness, I’ve missed you so much. Still rocking the Goth look, I see.” I grin, holding onto his arm as I speak to him.
“Goth until I die, or until black eyeliner becomes too expensive for me. Whichever comes first.” Aramis is another friend from Australian Performing Arts Grammar. He was a couple of years above me, but we played together a few times in school productions. We used to have a great time sneaking into the music auditorium so he could play on the old piano in there. He loved the sound of it, claiming it was far superior to the electric keyboards they had in the music rooms. I had to agree.
When I wasn’t following Marcus like a lost puppy, I was hiding out with Aramis. We’d take turns on the piano, working through different pieces of music. It was always a lot of fun, and I loved spending time with him. Truthfully, he was my secret crush. You know that one guy you really like, but you’re afraid to tell your friends because they’ll think you’re crazy? Yeah. That was Aramis.
A performing arts school is filled with an abundance of colourful characters, but even in that environment, Aramis was considered a bit of a freak. With dyed black hair and a pale made-up face and white contact lenses, he stood out shockingly. Still, I thought him beautiful, different, unique. I like how quiet and reserved he is despite his obvious talents. Such a contrast to Marcus who has always been so boisterous and sure of himself.
“I hope eyeliner is always in your budget then.”
He laughs. “How have you been?” he asks, his eyes concentrated unwaveringly on me, like I’m the only girl in the world. He’s so sweet.
“Busy with school. I got into ANU,” I tell him, smiling as my eyes rake over him from head to toe, drinking him in. I’ve missed him.
“I heard. It’s well deserved. Congratulations,” he smiles, producing perfect white teeth, and a slight crinkle around his eyes.
“Thank you. What are you doing here tonight? Are you at the Conservatorium of Music?”
“No. I didn’t even apply for uni. I travelled for a year and then came back home. I’m playing with the band tonight. On keyboards.” He rolls his eyes, nodding toward the stage.
“Ouch. That old piano doesn't travel well, huh?”
“Much to my dismay.” He smiles, then a whistle rings out and one of the guys on stage yells his name. He lifts his hand to signal he heard and steps back. “I’d better go. Maybe we can hang after the show?”
“I’d love that.”
“Come and find me.” He turns and walks away, and I’m pleased when he takes a moment to turn back and smile at me.
“Hi, Aramis,” Stephanie says once he’s out of earshot. “I’m doing well too. Not that you'd notice since you didn’t even look at me. But that’s cool, because I do enjoy watching you walk away.” She glances at me with a cheeky grin. “That’s some behind. Who knew goths did squats.”
“Mmmhmm,” I agree, tilting my head as if it will give me a better angle. “That really is a great arse.”
“And that’s when visions of the player, Marcus quit dancing in her head, replaced by the exotic smoky promise of a man wearing makeup with amazing glutes,” Stephanie murmurs, fancying herself as the next great novelist.
“Exotic smoky promise?” I laugh as I glance her way.
“Well, how would you describe him?”
We both stand and openly watch Aramis as he climbs up on the stage, graceful and strong in his movement. “An enigma,” I say, because despite knowing him for years, I barely know a thing about him.
“An enigma she wants in her pants,” she says, causing me to laugh.
“Maybe writing isn’t your jam,” I tease.
She waves me away. “It’ll all look way better in print.”
“I hope so,” I say, tipping my drink back to drain its contents.
“Which one will you choose?” Stephanie asks when I’m looking for somewhere to dump my empty.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you came here for Marcus, but now you’ve seen Aramis—and you’ve always had a weird crush on gothboy, don’t deny it—so which one do you choose? The player, or the guy with a great arse who will get makeup all over your face? Remembering you only have one night with either.”
“You’re really obsessed with his butt aren’t you?” I laugh at her description.
She nods. “You could bounce a coin off it.” She mimes the action as the band starts up, playing a cover of Muse’s Uprising. “Oh, I love this song,” she says, forgetting her question doesn’t have an answer as Amy and Erica come rushing over to us, vodka mixes above their heads as they howl out their excitement and sway to the music.
With a huge smile on my face, I dance along with them, keeping Stephanie’s question in my mind. While I had come here for the sole purpose of throwing myself at Marcus, seeing Aramis has changed things. Being near him again reminded me how much I loved being around him. How much I liked him. While I like Marcus—a lot—I know he’s a player. To him, I’ll just be another girl he fucked after a show, but to Aramis, it’ll mean something. Even if it’s only for a night.
“Just look at him up there,” Amy groans, handing me a new vodka mixer. “He’s like a god on stage.”
“Yeah he is,” I agree, but I’m not looking at the same band member she is. My answer is Aramis.
Smiling to myself, I twist the cap off the bottle and gulp a mouthful of its contents, feeling glad that this time the liquid is fizzy. The flat one was a bit gross and metallic tasting….
One
Five years later
Naomi
“Happy birthday!” I sing out the moment the door opens, and I spot the birthday girl.
/> “Oh, Nomes. You know it’s not my birthday yet,” Gary jokes, as I reach out and remove my god daughter from his stocky arms.
“Obviously, I’m talking to Amanda, Gary. But, I promise to be just as enthusiastic at your next birthday so you don’t feel left out, ok?” I tease, giving his full cheek a childish pinch as I walk past him into the living room, chatting to his daughter on my hip until we reach the kitchen where I’m sure I’ll find Stephanie.
“Oh, you’re here. Fantastic,” Stephanie says, as she closes the oven door and unties the apron that is protecting her Grecian style summer dress. “I need to get Amanda ready for the party. Can you keep an eye on things in here while I take her upstairs?” She drops the apron on the bench and holds her hands out for her daughter.
“Absolutely.” I smile, reluctantly handing Amanda over to her mother and standing aside as Steph rushes past me and up the stairs.
I walk around the kitchen and check on all the food that is already prepared and laid out on trays. The oven timer is switched on to tell me when to check the finger food so I venture outside for a moment to where Gary is filling plastic party buckets with ice and shoving different drinks inside.
"Exactly how many people are you expecting today, Gaz?” I ask, out of curiosity. This appears to be a bit more than the simple BBQ they mentioned last week.
“Oh god, I think there’s a good fifty coming.”
My mouth drops open. It’s a first birthday party for a one-year-old. How could a baby possibly know that many people? “Fifty?”
“Yeah, well. It’s our first kid. First birthday party. We want to share it with everyone,” he explains over his shoulder and he huffs and puffs with another bag of ice.
Beautiful Boxset: Beautiful Series, books 1-4 Page 86
