Beautiful Rose

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Beautiful Rose Page 3

by Missy Johnson


  Benj and Darcy appeared at the bar.

  "You guys leaving too?" I asked. They nodded.

  "Yeah, sorry man. See you soon, though, okay?"

  "Sure," I said. "Oh, Benj?" I called, just as he was walking out the door. He turned around. "I have a few new songs I want to play here once things settle down. Interested in jamming?"

  "Anytime. Just let me know the details." Benj was a mad drummer, and was just as good with a guitar. We'd played together in the early days at the bar, and I was keen to get back into it with him.

  I walked over to the door and locked it after them, pulling down the blind. Walking through the darkened space with a surge of excitement, I felt like a kid waiting for Christmas to arrive. I was about to embark on a new journey, and I was either going to sink or swim.

  My phone rang as I walked upstairs. Seeing it was Alex, I answered.

  “You missed a good game,” I chuckled as I walked into my apartment, closing the door behind me. I walked down the hall and let out Mr. Jefferies. He glowered at me from his spot on the spare bed, and then turned his head away, pissed off by the lack of attention he’d received. I shook my head. Sometimes that cat had more attitude than Harmony.

  “Yeah, I know, if it makes you feel any better I just got home myself. My piece of shit car is fucked. It's being towed to the garage now. Can you do me a favor? Give me a lift home from work tomorrow? I can get one of the guys to pick me up, I just don't have a way home yet.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Maybe now you'll get rid of that piece of shit Chevy and get yourself a reliable car . . . like a Pinto?” I laughed. Anything would be more reliable than what he had now. When your car breaks down once a month like clockwork, it's time to move on.

  “Fuck off,” he growled. I laughed. Any chance I got to give my brother shit about his car, I took it.

  “Text me what time, okay. Oh, and hey…I’ll do this for you, but I need something in return.”

  “Like?” he asked suspiciously. Why was he always so wary of my favors?

  “A new waitress,” I announced.

  Alex snorted. “And where the hell am I supposed to find you a waitress?” he demanded.

  “You’re resourceful. I’m sure you’ll think of something,” I chuckled, hanging up the phone. I threw my phone and my keys on the counter, before slipping off my jeans and my boxers. Walking toward the bedroom, I pulled my shirt over my head and disposed of it on the floor. As I was climbing between the sheets, Mr Jefferies jumped up and began purring, trying to get under the covers with me.

  “Buddy, personal space, okay?” I muttered to him, tucking the covers close to me so he couldn’t get under. Eventually he gave up, and lay down between my feet. A king-sized bed and he chooses the most inconvenient spot for me? Shaking my head, I eased my foot out and moved over. Typical. I sleep around my cat. Well, so long as he’s comfortable.

  Chapter Four

  Jack

  My phone buzzed as I pulled up outside the clinic. I clicked my hands-free, which read out the message. Thank god he was getting his car back tomorrow. I was sick of waiting around for him. Yesterday had been the same. I turn up, and half an hour later he's ready. I should’ve just left half an hour later today. There was so much I still needed to do at the bar that I felt like I was wasting time sitting around here doing nothing.

  Jack, I'm running a few minutes late. Wait in the lobby if you like.

  Getting out of the car, I took in the huge complex that was Belton Square Retreat. For a psych facility, it was as fancy as you could get. Alex had once told me the nightly fee for this place was four grand. Four-fucking-thousand dollars a night, and then you'd probably leave the place more fucked up than you were when you went in.

  In the three years I'd been living here, this was my first time going inside Belton. I avoided hospitals and the like wherever I could, and this place reminded me way too much of one to be comfortable.

  Strolling over to the entrance, I pressed the buzzer. The door opened, and I was ushered into a room. Once I had been confirmed as a visitor, I was buzzed into a small reception area where I had to sign myself in, complete with a photocopy of my ID.

  "You don't kid around, hey? You'll be scanning my eyeballs next," I joked. The security guard remained stone faced, not amused by my attempt at humor. No wonder Alex had no sense of humor, this place would suck it out of me, too. He finally let me through, but not before scowling at me again. I scowled back.

  Shoving my hands in my pockets, I glanced around. I don't know what I was expecting, but this wasn't it. It looked . . . normal. Nice, even. This was a far cry from the dark and gloomy asylum I'd been expecting. Where were the crazy people running around talking to themselves about the world ending? And nobody rocking themselves in the corner? This was disappointing. Maybe I’d been watching too many horror movies.

  The huge windows made the room light and airy. It had been designed in such a way that there was no clinical feel about it at all. You could almost convince yourself that you were at a health retreat, or a resort. The faint smell of something savory wafted through the air, and I wondered if it was dinnertime. I looked at my phone. Six o'clock, about the right time for dinner in a place like this. I shuddered at the thought of being locked up in here, forced to follow a routine, made me feel sick.

  I walked alongside a row of chairs toward a sofa, slumping down in the seat nearest the corner. I flicked open my messages to compose a reply.

  Whenever you're ready, I'm in the lobby.

  Stretching my legs out, I rested my head against the wall behind me and closed my eyes. Everything I still needed to do for the bar before opening was running through my head. Then everything that could go wrong began to fill my head. What if it all completely failed? This was my baby; I'd put everything into this, including most of my savings. The bar was me, Jack Falcon. This was the first time I'd focused completely on doing what made me happy. If I fucked this up then I had failed—something I'd done too many times in my life to handle it happening again.

  "… You take what you want from me, there’s nothing left to give. . ." A voice, sweet and sultry sang breaking the silence of the deserted hallway. Even if I had wanted to move, I couldn't. I felt as though I was frozen there, unable to move, like my feet had been cemented to the ground. My eyes remained closed as the words soared into my heart. Sung by one of my favorite bands, this song had been almost like a crutch for me over the past few years. It hit me so close to home and reminded me so much of what I'd lost.

  “I can’t pretend it’s all okay when I’ve lost the will to live. . ." Her voice was so mesmerizing, raw and full of emotion, not to mention so damn sexy it was making my heart race. I stood up, the sudden urge to see the owner of this voice undeniable.

  As I rounded the corner, I saw her. Her legs, curled up under her knees, were covered in skin-tight jeans. She was as breathtaking as her voice. Her eyes were closed as she sang softly to the tune on her iPod, oblivious to the fact that I was a short distance away, staring. I wanted to look away. I wanted to run, but I couldn't.

  Tall and willowy, her long red hair curled down her back. Or was it brown? It was hard to tell in this light. Her creamy skin looked so natural and fresh, and the way her lips moved to each word left me feeling dizzy. She was fucking gorgeous, and her voice was equally stunning.

  Her eyes, the color of mahogany, opened suddenly, as if she sensed she was being watched. She blinked, her dark lashes seeming to open and close in slow motion. Color filled her cheeks as I continued to stare. Her full lips curved into a smile that made my throat feel as though it was going to close over as her gaze fell downward. I shifted my feet. Why was it so damn hot in here all of a sudden?

  "Sorry, I forget I'm in public sometimes," she said sheepishly, plucking the buds from her ears.

  "Don't be sorry. ‘Losing You.’ That’s one of my favorite songs." I smiled, leaning against the wall. "Besides, your voice is stunning. I could listen to you all day," I added, my eye
s moving over her body.

  She blushed again. My gaze was making her uncomfortable, yet I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. "So, you're a fan of Seduce?" she asked, referring to the band of the song she had been singing.

  "Yeah, I love them. Their music is so real. It makes you think . . ." My voice trailed off. Now it was my turn to blush. I sounded like a fucking greeting card.

  She kicked her leg against the seat opposite her.

  "You can sit if you want," she said. "I promise my crazy isn't contagious." She chuckled, sensing my hesitation.

  I laughed and walked over to her, but didn’t sit down. "So, I haven't seen you around?"

  It sounded like a question, so I shook my head. "I don’t come here often. I mean, my brother works here. I'm picking him up. His car is getting fixed." I was babbling and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  Her brown eyes narrowed. "Who's your brother?" she asked, suspiciously.

  "Alex?" I said. My voice raised slightly.

  "Not so bad. He is one of the tolerable ones," she said dryly, brushing her long, curly hair away from her face. “Anyway, I should have guessed. You have the same British accent, though yours is much stronger.”

  I chuckled. "Nice to know he's not a total ass," I joked. "He’s been over here a few years longer than me. So, back to your voice. Do you sing?"

  She blushed. "Does in the shower count?"

  My eyes lingered over her body, my mind going exactly where it shouldn't. She raised an eyebrow at me and tilted her head, as if she were reading my thoughts.

  "Your voice is beautiful," I replied, getting the conversation back on track. "Have you thought about singing professionally?”

  She shook her head and made a face. "God, no. I love singing, but I'm not much for attention. I hate having the spotlight on me. So much so that when I was born, I tried to crawl back inside."

  I laughed, enjoying her offbeat humor.

  "I write songs, though. I like to have original material when I perform in the shower." Her lips curved back up into that sexy grin, and it took me a moment to realize she was fucking with me.

  Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. This time, I didn't even fight the image of her standing under a stream of hot water as it ran down her body. I made a beeline for the chair to hide my erection. She watched, amused.

  "Everything okay there, tiger?" she teased. The way she looked at me made me feel naked. And vulnerable. I hated feeling vulnerable.

  "Fine." I nodded curtly. "So what brings you here?" I groaned inwardly. What the fuck? As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. That was up there with asking an overweight woman when the baby was due. Not that I’ve ever been that stupid. Way to make her feel uncomfortable, Jack. Her whole demeanor changed.

  "The usual rich kid syndrome. Addicted to pills, alcohol and sex." She shrugged. Was she toying with me again? I couldn’t tell. Her expression was serious, but there was a glint of humor in her eyes.

  “Sounds like you liked to party,” I smirked, shaking my head. She sounded like me when I was younger—well, minus the pills. “And a place like this actually fixes you?”

  “Not really. But it’s not my money I’m wasting. If I could, I’d be out of here in a second.” She blushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. The last thing you want is all my problems.”

  “Its fine,” I assured her.

  Listening to others go on about their issues? Not my strongest trait. But this girl, I could listen to all day. She could read me the phone book and I’d sit there, mesmerized.

  “So, what would you be doing right now if you weren’t in here?”

  She thought for a moment, a smile creeping across her lips. “Eating tacos,” she said definitively.

  My mouth dropped open in shock as I choked back a laugh. Did she just admit she would be eating pussy? I was liking this girl more and more. Her hand flew to her mouth.

  “No! That wasn’t a euphemism for…that.” She shook her head, color spreading rapidly across her cheeks. “There is a food van over on Fifth that have the most incredible tacos. That’s where I’d be right now.”

  “The first thing that pops into your head and its street food?” I laughed. I’d been expecting something deeper than that.

  “Yeah? Well, what would you be doing if you weren’t taxying your brother around?” she asked, her eyebrow arched.

  “I’d be working. But if I wasn’t working I’d be fiddling with my guitar.” She looked impressed.

  “I never learned an instrument. I love to sing, but I’m otherwise completely musically challenged,” she admitted. “No, that’s not true. I played the recorder when I was ten. I was so bad at it that one day my father grabbed it off me and snapped it in half. I was crushed.”

  I began to laugh, earning myself a glare through those pretty brown eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said, chuckling, “but, fuck, you must have sucked.”

  “Hey!” she said indigently. “I’ll have you know I was part of the school band!”

  “On your recorder?” I clarified, amused.

  “Yes. So how bad could I have been?” she asked smugly. I shook my head, not wanting to burst the poor girl’s bubble that they probably had a duty to let all students join, no matter how bad they were. Before I could respond Alex came flying around the corner, a stack of folders tucked under his arm. He stopped abruptly when he saw me.

  "Jack." He looked at the girl then back at me, eyebrow cocked. "You've met Rose, I take it?"

  "Not officially . . . Rose,” I murmured softly. Fuck, even her name was perfect. She blushed, her eyes sweeping away.

  Alex cleared his throat uneasily. "Right. Are you ready?" He glanced back at Rose. "See you tomorrow, Rose."

  "Bye." She waved at us, but her eyes were firmly on me.

  * * *

  Alex shook his head as soon as we were outside. "Please tell me you were not hitting on one of my patients."

  "Relax. She was singing ‘Losing You’ by Seduce, and we got to talking. Trust me," I added as he rolled his eyes. "Besides, I've got Harmony, remember?"

  "Oh, lucky you," he deadpanned.

  "Shut up, Alex. Harmony is great. I think you're just jealous that the only thing that's been near your dick for months is your hand," I retorted. "Maybe that's why you were so pissed I was talking to Rose in there, hey? She's a hot little thing. Do you think of her while you're palming yourself?"

  Alex’s cheeks flushed as he climbed into my car. "Grow up, Jack. She's a patient. And for the record, I could quite easily get an easy fuck like Harmony if I wanted to, but I don't want to. I'd rather wait for a real relationship."

  "Fuck real relationships," I grumbled. I never wanted to put myself through that, ever again. Being in love had been incredible, but losing it almost broke me. I'd changed a lot over the past few years, but the pain of losing love was something that had never wavered.

  We didn't speak the rest of the way to his house, lost in our own thoughts. I pulled into his driveway and waited until he had gotten out and shut the door.

  "See you tomorrow?" I said through the window.

  "Yeah. Thanks for driving me around, too."

  "Anytime."

  And, just like that, we were back to normal. That's the thing about guys; we don't stew over things like chicks do. We fight it out, then move on. Chicks bury it, let it fester, and then eventually it explodes into an issue a thousand times bigger than it should have been.

  #

  Most of the next morning was spent running around doing some last minute shit for the opening night. On top of everything, I still needed another waitress, something I should have asked Alex about yesterday. I pulled out my phone and brought up his number.

  Dude, you promised me a waitress.

  I still had to confirm the catering and the band, check the alcohol delivery was going to arrive in time, hold a last minute meeting for my staff, and confirm that the few critics I had invited were still coming. I grabbed the invoice list and began to cal
l the suppliers.

  Caterer and alcohol confirmed. Message left with band manager. Critics confirmed. My phone buzzed.

  Keep your pants on. I will bring her over tonight.

  Awesome. That was another thing I could cross off my list. I glanced around the empty bar. It was hard to believe that, come tomorrow night, this place would be packed full of people. At least, I sure as hell hoped it would be. Fuck, what if nobody showed? Shit. I rested my elbows on the laminate surface of the bar counter, breathing deeply. Picking up my phone, I texted Harmony.

  Don't come over tonight. Going out with Alex.

  The last thing I needed tonight was drama from Harmony, and having a chick here who was taking the job she wanted was sure to cause plenty.

  I walked over to the stereo and flicked it on. I laughed when I realized what song was playing. Losing You. Harmony texted back “okay.” I shoved my phone in my pocket and paced the floor.

  My mind filtered back to yesterday, to the girl in the . . . at Alex's work. Fuck, she could sing. And it didn't hurt that she was hot to look at. I wondered if that really was why she was there—sex, drugs and alcohol.

  The way her voice had worked that song had been incredible to listen to. Something about her had made my heart beat faster, and I didn't like that. By the time Alex had interrupted us, we’d been talking for over an hour, yet it had felt like five minutes.

 

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