What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 5)

by Cathryn Fox

  Leaving the office, Amy took her chef jacket off and hung it up on a hook. She squeezed it and took a deep breath. It was a dumb ritual, but she liked to pause for a second at the end of the night and think about all she had done that day. Being caught in the moment of the restaurant and its thriving life, sometimes it made Amy wonder if she was accomplishing anything. She was. She was accomplishing plenty. She walked to the front of the restaurant and behind the bar. She got herself a glass of ice cold soda and a straw. As she sipped, Amy scanned the empty tables. So many people had sat at all those tables, ordering food, enjoying a meal, having a conversation. That was the importance of Amy’s life. She gave people moments through her meals.

  The ladies at the bar talked and laughed. They finished their wine and the middle one slid off her stool and stood. Her hands went right to the bar as her face looked shock.

  “Oh dear,” she said. “That’s good wine.”

  “Do you have a ride home?” Amy asked.

  “I was going to drive,” the woman on the left said.

  Her voice was slurred and her eyes looked like tops spinning. There was no way any of the women could drive home.

  “Let me help,” Amy said.

  Under the bar there was a piece of paper taped down with phone numbers. Uncle Tom’s cell phone was first in line. It served no purpose having his number there because Uncle Tom spent every second in the restaurant and the cell phone he actually had was kept in the office. The rest of the numbers were more emergency numbers, including a cab service that Uncle Tom knew the owner. Amy placed a quick call and got the women a cab.

  “It’ll be here in a few minutes,” Amy told them. “Why don’t you sit and relax? Want another small glass of wine? On me?”

  The three women all looked at each other. Their cheeks were flush, as though they were embarrassed by being a little too drunk. It didn’t matter though. They weren’t causing trouble. They were having fun and enjoying a night out.

  “Since we’re getting a cab…,” the middle said as she sat back down.

  Amy smiled and poured a small glass of wine for each one. She waited for the cab and then helped the women outside. All three tried to give Amy gratuity but she respectfully refused. She told them she worked in the kitchen and she wasn’t allowed to take gratuity. The women giggled as the cab started to drive away. Amy looked around at the dark street. Everything had closed down or was closing down. The walk to her apartment wasn’t that long. If she stayed on the main street, in the lights, it was enjoyable. She usually drove, but sometimes the walk actually helped Tonight, with her car getting repaired – thanks to Denny, Amy thought – she had to walk anyway.

  Back in the restaurant she found Uncle Tom behind the bar, a smile on his face.

  “You should be doing the same,” he said.

  “What? Getting drunk?”

  “No,” he said. He frowned. “Taking a cab home. I don’t like you walking.”

  “I always walk.”

  “Not always.”

  “I sometimes walk.”

  “Sometimes,” Uncle Tom said. “Not tonight. You could take a cab or let me drive you. Take my car, I’ll sleep here.”

  “You will not sleep here,” Amy said. “I need the walk. I need to clear my head.”

  “It wouldn’t have anything to do with those phone messages, would it?”

  “Text messages?” Amy asked and smiled. “No, it doesn’t.”

  Amy hated lying to Uncle Tom, but she didn’t let it worry her too much. Uncle Tom could see right through it.

  “Let me handle this guy,” Uncle Tom said. “Nobody needs to bother you, Amy.”

  “What are you going to do? Beat him up?”

  Uncle Tom lifted an old, but large fist. “One of these and he’ll know better.”

  “It’s fine,” Amy said. “I’m going to handle it. I’m going to call him and make sure he knows things are over.”

  “Why can’t you find a good man, Amy? You’re so beautiful. You’re so smart. Yet you end up with a clown like that guy.”

  “I’m fine right where I am,” Amy said. “I don’t need a man in my life right now. I’m not looking.”

  “Neither was I,” Uncle Tom winked. “Be careful when you’re not looking… you might just crash into something.”

  “Noted,” Amy said. She walked behind the bar and kissed Uncle Tom on the cheek. “I think I’m going to get going.”

  “You should,” Uncle Tom said. “I don’t want you walking home so late. I don’t like it.”

  “I’m perfectly fine,” Amy said. “I told you, I could use the fresh air.”

  “It’s cold out there.”

  “I have my jacket,” Amy said. “With my fuzzy hood.”

  “You’re going to be the death of me someday.”

  “Don’t say that,” Amy said. “Plus, everyone knows this restaurant will be the death of you. Since you can’t let it go.”

  “Okay, that’s enough. You’re fired.” Uncle Tom smiled.

  “Have a good night,” Amy said.

  She went through the kitchen and put her coat on. She stepped out back of the restaurant and the chilly air hit her again. It made her shiver, but it felt good. The deep breaths of cold air cleansed her mind and soul. Within a few steps, the night started to shake away from Amy. The long shift. The food. The customers. The two plates that were sent back due to minor errors. An undercooked steak and a lukewarm piece of chicken. Those were the little things that Amy wanted to be perfect, even though two plates on a long, busy shift probably wasn’t that bad.

  She walked to the front of the restaurant and then down the sidewalk. The crisp air soon brought a few blustery snowflakes. Cast against the streetlights and the dying lights of businesses as they closed, there was something serene about it.

  In the distance Amy heard the rumbling of a motor. She stopped walking. With her hands in her pockets, she moved her left hand up and felt her cellphone on the inside pocket through all the thick cloth.

  Can’t be…

  The motorcycle got louder and closer. Amy felt her heart starting to race a little more. Her breaths were quicker, the puffs of breath rushing from her mouth. She walked faster, looking down, wanting to be huddled but more importantly, she wanted to be invisible. That wasn’t going to be possible.

  Amy kept walking and the sound of the motor kept growing louder. She finally stopped and turned. She could go back to the restaurant. She could confess to Uncle Tom that she worried about Denny and his intentions. Maybe she couldn’t tell him why, but she could at least feel comforted by her uncle. After all, he was the one who raised Amy after her father died in a car accident when she was just ten.

  Before she could take a step Amy saw the glare of a light. The sound was most definitely a motorcycle and that motorcycle had just turned down the street, coming her way.

  “No,” she whispered.

  Panic set in, and for a moment, Amy thought Denny was going to find her standing alone on a street with nobody else around just before midnight. Just what he wanted.

  Amy looked behind her and of all things, she saw an alley. She stepped back until she was in the alley and protected by its darkness. It worried her that she would rather seek comfort in a dark alley than possibly see Denny.

  The motorcycle came up the street and in the flash of a second, it was gone. In that flash of a second though she could make out the bike and the rider. It was definitely Denny. She sighed in relief when the sound continued and eventually started to fade. At least it meant he was just cruising through town and not looking for her. She hoped.

  Amy waited until there was no sound and then emerged from the alley. She shivered uncontrollably. Her toes were so cold that they hurt as she walked. At the end of the block she stopped and blew warm air into her hands. It did nothing. She turned right and only had a couple blocks to go.

  Suddenly, the sound of the motorcycle could be heard at the top of the road. If Denny was circling back through town, tha
t meant he was looking for Amy.

  Amy found herself in retreat and once again seeking the darkness of the alley. She walked fast as the rumbling of the motorcycle went by her. She wasn’t going to chance anything this time. She would stay in the alley to the end. She’d cross a street, cut through the parking of a hotel, and then walk the back way until she got to her apartment. It would add an extra ten minutes to her foot commute home, but if it meant not running into Denny, it was worth every cold step.

  Once at the end of the alley, Amy looked both ways and ran across the street. She went into the parking lot of the hotel and put her head down. She could hear the motorcycle in the distance and it bothered her more than ever. She worried that Denny would go to the restaurant.

  What if he broke a window? What if he asked for payment? What if he hurt Uncle Tom?

  The thoughts convoluted Amy’s mind. She walked fast and stared at her feet. She was so confused and flustered that she didn’t see a second pair of feet until she crashed into the person they belonged to.

  When she looked up, she expected to see Denny. Wasn’t that how it went in the movies? Except, it wasn’t Denny. Instead, it was a good looking guy whose eyes were familiar, but she couldn’t figure out why.

  Chapter Five

  The jam session turned into a concert. It was the stuff rock n’ roll dreams were made of. Five guys in a hotel room, drinking, playing guitar, singing songs that millions of fans loved, which in turn made them millionaires. With that, however, came the reverberating sound of the music, which in no time began to attract attention. They guys ignored the first knock on the door. Mack threw the finger at the door and everyone laughed. Luke missed an entire line of lyrics, but it didn’t matter. They were just having fun. Luke’s throat was tender and sore, but he couldn’t stop singing.

  The knock on the door continued and then turned into pounding. Mack put his guitar down. He cracked his knuckles and looked ready to knock someone’s teeth out. Luke rushed after him, wanting to prevent a scene. All they needed was to call Frank and tell him that Mack was in jail for punching a hotel employee because he knocked on the door to their room. Frank would go ballistic.

  Mack tore the door open and there was a group of people standing there. The leader of the pack, a young man, looked ready to pass out.

  “Holy shit,” he said. “It’s really you.”

  “Really who?” Mack asked.

  “You’re Mack,” the guy said. Then he looked at Luke. “You’re Luke. Holy shit.”

  Luke looked at Mack and they both smiled.

  “Come on in,” Luke said. “Let’s do something different tonight.”

  The crowd poured into the hotel room. Luke figured there had to be only thirty people or so. Someone propped the door open and Luke went back to the band. Mack grabbed his guitar and with a head nod they picked up right where they left off. They played and Luke sang to the enjoyment of the fans. Before the song finished, another twenty people came into the hotel room. In a matter of minutes the room was flooded with fans and plenty more stood out in the hallway. The top floor of the hotel had suddenly become a live Fallen Tuesday concert.

  After two songs, Luke waved his hands, ending the session.

  “Dude, this is crazy,” Luke said to Gray.

  “Of course it is, they love us,” Gray said.

  The people in the room were talking, cheering, taking pictures and videos. They were all calm and respected the band. Luke looked around and couldn’t stop smiling. This moment was everything he dreamed of. Everything he wanted.

  “Let’s keep playing,” Mack said. “Maybe try out that new one.”

  “Right now?” Trent asked.

  “Why not?” Luke asked. “They’re the luckiest fans right now for this.”

  “Whatever works,” Jake said. “Count it off.”

  Trent looked at Jake with a snarled lip.

  “Just play something,” Luke yelled.

  The fans clapped and Gray kicked into another favorite Fallen Tuesday song. Everyone cheered. The room felt like it was going to explode. Luke couldn’t believe that neither security or hotel employees had come up to break up their little party. If they did, they’d be faced with some pissed off Fallen Tuesday fans.

  The song continued and on the second chorus Luke stood on the table and belted out the lyrics with his hands cupped around his mouth. Suddenly, at the end of the note, he felt like something had snapped in throat. His voice was gone and the pain between his ears was enough that he put his hands to his ears and bent over. He jumped from the table and rushed to the kitchen. When he looked at his band, they were concerned. He waved at them and motioned for a drink. Luke grabbed a bottle of vodka and took a sip. It burned like it had been poured on an open wound… and maybe it had been.

  What kind of damage had he just caused to his throat?

  Luke then started to hear something he never thought possible. The, out of nowhere, the fans in the room started to sing. Little by little they all joined together. Luke turned and put the vodka bottle on the counter. He watched as they were all getting into the song, including the band. The connection between Gray, Jake, Trent, Mack, and the fans was intense. It took Luke’s breath away for a second and then he felt his throat tighten and he tried to swallow the lump that threatened to make him cry in front of his hand band and fans. This was a moment in the band’s history that would stick with them forever, but it was also the kind of moment Luke feared losing if he went into seclusion and relaxed his voice. The fans wanted Fallen Tuesday. The wanted to sing their favorites songs and they wanted to hear new ones.

  Luke joined the band and opened his mouth to start singing again. He made it through half a line of lyrics before his voice broke up. He could feel the words scratching against his vocal chords. He pointed to the fans and smiled.

  “You sing it!” he yelled.

  Everyone started to sing. Everyone except the lead singer of Fallen Tuesday. A wicked mix of anger, regret, and guilt shot through Luke’s body.

  He needed to get out of the room.

  He patted Mack on the shoulder and then motioned toward the door. He cut through the fans as they all tried to touch him. Hand after hand on his shoulder, back, chest, and stomach. Men and women called his name, sang his lyrics. It was a come true, but it was Luke’s nightmare though. One he faced alone by choice at the sake of his band mates hearts.

  In the hall he saw that the crowd stretched down the to end. He pushed through, shaking hands, accepting hugs, taking a few pictures along the way. He managed to get to the elevators and a few fans looked at him like they were going to chance jumping on for a ride. Luckily, everyone stayed to hear the music. The doors shut and Luke pressed for the ground floor.

  When the doors opened, a few people stared, trying to make sense of the sight before their eyes. Before anyone could say anything, Luke darted from the elevator and went to the side door that led to the emergency steps. He went out the backdoor of the hotel. He held it open and looked for something to prop the door open. A rock did just fine ensuring the lock didn’t engage and lock Luke out of his hotel. He leaned against the building and took a deep breath. In the distance he could hear life. He couldn’t hear his band playing, but he could hear people living. People walking, talking, laughing, driving. A normal evening for all of them. He heard the distant rumble of a motorcycle and it made him think of Mack and his love for bikes. Luke had considered getting a motorcycle. He used to ride dirt bikes all the time when he was younger. Hell, he had the money now; he had the money to do anything he wanted. At that exact second in his life he wanted nothing more than to have his throat feel normal. Unfortunately, there were indeed some things that money just couldn’t buy.

  A few deep breaths did nothing for his throat. However, since he hadn’t been singing for close to five minutes he could already feel a sense of relief coming over him. Luke pushed from the wall and walked to the parking lot. There he started to slowly pace, keeping himself calm, wondering how lon
g he could hang outside before someone would come looking for him. The impromptu concert was an amazing, but how long would it last? What would come next? A drinking party? Acting like they were barely twenty, hanging in Los Angeles, not caring about anything? Maybe he wasn’t exactly old enough to think that way. It was Fallen Tuesday’s first real big shot on the road on their own. They were probably in a position to break the law without getting into trouble…

  Luke smiled and kept walking. His small pacing line had grown bigger with each pass by. Whether Luke wanted to party or not, he needed to get to his doctor, get a game plan together, and get his throat back to normal. Without his voice…

  The thought lingered in Luke’s mind. He stopped walking and put his head back. The cold sky had quite a few clouds. It looked like it could just start snowing without a moments notice. Luke looked straight ahead, just in time to see a woman charging straight at him. He tried to step back but she crashed into Luke and he put his hands out and then had her by the shoulders. When she looked at him, Luke saw nothing but big green eyes staring at him. Confused eyes. Hurt eyes. Beautiful eyes. Maybe the most beautiful set of eyes he’d ever seen in his life.

  “Whoa, you okay?” he asked.

  The woman was stiff, cold, and kept looking over her shoulder.

  Luke looked beyond the woman and half expected to see someone chasing after her.

  “Hey, I asked if you were okay,” Luke said.

  The woman looked at Luke again. She hesitated and then smiled. “Yeah. Of course I am. Just… yeah, I’m okay.”

  “You don’t seem okay,” Luke said. “You seem scared to death right now.”