Dirty Lyrics

by Lana Sky

  At four in the morning.

  “No fucking way…”

  I scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping in my rush to get to the window. My fingers trembled as I pushed the curtain aside, convinced that this was all just some crazy twist to my nightmare.

  Lo and behold, a shadowy figure stood on the sidewalk down below, doused beneath a heavy cover of rain.

  For a second, I couldn’t breathe. My phone was still clutched in my hand, but I couldn’t seem to type out another response. Perhaps something along the lines of, “are you insane?”

  Think, Abby! Think!

  I considered crawling back into bed and telling him to leave. As if on cue, another message flashed across my cell-phone screen.

  This should only take a moment, darlin’.

  Darlin’?

  I frowned. Whether he’d intended it to or not, the tone seemed playful—almost condescendingly so. Don’t get your knickers in a bunch, woman. This is just business.

  “Okay, Jason,” I murmured. “You want to play? Let’s play.”

  Without realizing it, I found myself switching on my bedroom light and fishing a robe from my closet. The satiny black number from Victoria’s Secret was even shorter than my little red dress.

  Ignoring that fact, I settled my hair over my shoulders, intending to march down to the lobby and grab whatever the hell Jason thought I would need at four in the morning.

  That was it.

  Not for a second would I let Mr. Cowboy think he intimidated me.

  Why should it matter that I slept only in a bra and panty set—and that even with the robe on, I looked like I was sneaking downstairs for a lot more than a mysterious, forgotten object?

  If my risqué ensemble scandalized Jason Daniels, then it would serve him right.

  I crept past Perry’s closed bedroom door and into the living room of our loft-style apartment. Silver moonlight spilled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed a breathtaking view of the city. I used the glow to help me tiptoe my way to the door.

  After easing it open, I entered the deserted hallway and took the stairs rather than the elevator. I didn’t want to risk having someone see me in my current state. Shivering beneath the building’s air conditioning, I raced across the empty lobby to the glass doors that led to the street. Only, when I peeked out into the night…

  I found no one there.

  Heavy rain drenched the empty street, and I felt like the only person in the world dumb enough to have been lured out of bed at such an hour.

  Son of a bitch.

  I gritted my teeth, prepared to text this-so-called “Jason Daniels”—Perry was probably playing a joke—and demand an explanation, only to realize that I had left my phone upstairs. Along with my keys.

  Fuck.

  After a dateless few months, I was rusty in the ways of sneaking out of my abode to meet strange men. With his television blaring, Perry would never hear me banging on the door, and I wouldn’t dare wake the superintendent dressed like a ten-dollar hooker.

  I frowned, furious. Fuming, actually. I was about ready to march back up ten flights of stairs and kick my damn door in, when a tap on the glass at my back startled me so badly that I jumped.

  Someone was there, after all.

  I whirled around, making out two startlingly intense blue eyes; rich, dark hair; and a pair of lips mouthing something from behind the glass.

  Abigail.

  I staggered forward and wrenched on the door’s handle—opening it just a few inches—so that I could speak to him, but with a sheet of glass still firmly between us.

  “Well, where is it?” I demanded.

  Rather than present this mysterious, lost object, he merely jerked his head, indicating for me to come outside.

  “I want to show you something.”

  Well, maybe Mr. Wholesome Charm wasn’t so…wholesome, after all?

  “Daddy told me never to run off with strangers,” I quipped, though inside I was shaking. I hated that. Hated the fact that I could tell he was wearing the same black shirt and jeans he’d worn at the concert. Did the man never sleep?

  Or bathe?

  God, I could smell him. That crisp, male scent rose above the taint of rain and city stench. Unbelievably, it made him smell even better. Richer.

  His intense gaze honed in on mine through the barrier.

  “I need to show you something.”

  I nearly choked on a bit of nervous laughter. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that line—”

  “Please.”

  Why did he have to sound so damn earnest? So nice?

  A bastard, I could handle. I was fluent in the ways of asshole, and I had a black belt in dealing with a prick.

  But I didn’t know how to handle “nice.”

  “It’s four in the morning,” I countered instead, wrestling with my grip on the door. To my surprise, Jason never reached for the handle or tried to force his way in.

  “It won’t take but a moment. Please Abigail.”

  I scoffed in exasperation, about five seconds from slamming the door in his face and marching back up to my apartment. Screw niceties.

  But the seconds passed…and I only stood there, feeling my arm slowly cramp up.

  “What is so important that it couldn’t wait until a reasonable hour?” I snapped.

  Rather than answer, Jason inclined his head again. Then he turned and lumbered away from the door before I had the chance to demand an explanation.

  Oh, damn him.

  It was cold. I was shivering beneath the sheer fabric of my robe. Poor Mr. Jason had probably gotten a mighty fine show from his vantage point, considering that my lacy bra wasn’t that much thicker.

  I took my hand from the door in order to wrap my arms around my chest, but at the last moment, right before it could slam shut, I shouldered it open. A shock ran through me as my bare foot struck the damp pavement.

  Jason was up ahead, nearly a block down the street already. In the distance, I could make out the shape of his truck parked along the curb.

  Really, Abby? A part of me scoffed. You should have learned your lesson from high school.

  Boys only wanted one thing when they showed up outside your house with a pick-up truck—though if I hadn’t learned my lesson the first twelve times, then why start now?

  With a sigh, I took a step forward, allowing the door to glance off my shoulder and slam shut behind me.

  My keys, phone, and money were upstairs, locked within the apartment. If I was lucky, Perry might wake up around six a.m. for his morning gym run and forget to lock the door.

  Until then, I was on my own, and there was no going back.

  Slowly, my gaze returned to Jason. Damn, the man was fast. He had already reached the truck and climbed inside of it. I couldn’t even make out his face through the darkened windshield.

  Why that fact made a flutter of apprehension run through my belly, I had no idea.

  Shivers encased my spine as I took another baby step, and then another, this time putting myself out of range of the awning that shielded the door. Icy rain pattered down, beating my hair flat against my head and gluing my robe to my body like a second skin.

  Before I could give into the urge to chicken out, I continued down the block and practically bolted into the truck once I came close enough.

  “Either go all in or bow out,” Daddy used to say. It was his well-worn excuse for why he had wound up in prison—“I had no choice, Abs. It was all in or all out.”

  Though, if he could see me now, climbing into a strange man’s truck, his advice might have been a little different.

  Chapter 4

  Minutes later, Jason pulled into a deserted parking lot on the other side of the city near the harbor. I could smell the dank stench of the water, even with the windows firmly rolled up.

  Interesting, I thought, genuinely apprehensive. If he turned out to be a psycho murderer and killed me…at least the river was there for easy disposal of my
body.

  “What do you want?” I demanded—for the millionth time, I might add. I was starting to sound like a broken record. Or one of those obnoxious children who annoyed their parents to the point where they threatened to “turn the car around this very instant!”

  Only Jason never threatened to turn around.

  The man simply kept driving, to God only knew where, and I was trapped, along for the ride. It was difficult for me to even feel properly irritated, considering that I was the dumbass who’d climbed into the truck in the first place.

  “For the last time,” I began on a sharp intake of air. “Where the hell are you taking me—”

  Suddenly, Jason slammed his foot on the brake, yanked the keys from the ignition, and climbed out of the truck.

  I could only stare as he hastened around to my side and wrenched open the door. Without a word, I allowed him to help me out, and together we hurried to a nearby brick building on the edge of the wharf.

  It was closed, but Jason managed to unlock a fire exit with a key fished from his pocket. Silently, he entered first, and my bare feet squelched over linoleum flooring as I followed him deeper into what I guessed to be an office building.

  “Where are we?” I asked in a strained whisper.

  Still no answer.

  It was going on five a.m. Perry would be up in an hour. I had to be at work in three. Drenched and soaked through to the bone, I would be lucky not to catch pneumonia before the week was out.

  “Jason,” I hissed as he continued down the hall without waiting for me to catch up. “If you don’t tell me where the hell we are, I’ll—”

  “In here.”

  I blinked to find him standing beside an open door, near the end of the hall. Without another word, he inclined his head once, before disappearing through the doorway.

  I hurried after him, curious as to what might be inside. However, a room with burgundy walls and sleek black furniture would have been last on my list.

  The layout resembled that of a recording room. There was a narrow singing booth situated at one end, shielded from the main area by a sheet of glass. Jason stood before it, fiddling with the buttons on a computer console that encircled the front of the enclosure.

  “Have a seat,” he said without turning around.

  “Music?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the part of me that was distracted by how thick and luxurious his hair seemed when it was wet. Or just how broad his back really was when glimpsed through his damp tee shirt. “You brought me all the way out here to listen to a song? Listen, your concert was amazing, but I’m not really in the mood for country at five in the morning.”

  Jason ignored me, but when he flicked a dial on the console, I could tell instantly that the song playing through the speakers wasn’t one of his upbeat chart-toppers.

  It was…different.

  The opening riffs of the guitar were harsher. Grittier. They lingered on the air as if inscribed there. Then came his voice—a deep, guttural drawl that echoed into the furthest reaches of the room.

  This wasn’t like the cheery, uplifting music on the Heartland album.

  The lyrics of this song seemed almost grunted, rather than sung. As if every word was being ripped from the singer by forces he couldn’t resist or control. It was real. It was haunting.

  I found myself drifting forward to a leather armchair, sitting down, shutting my mouth, and just listening.

  The music lover in me—whose credentials he had recited earlier—appreciated the harsh contrast of an acoustic guitar with the light melody of a piano in the background. It made for a striking sound that echoed the pained sentiment of every lyric.

  I know that you're coming for me.

  But I ain’t going out like that.

  When guilt runs red, and you're shackled by fear.

  You won’t stand so tall when you finally fall.

  So go on and run, they’ll be coming for you, boy…

  For you pulled that trigger, and then it was done.

  I was in a daze when the final refrain echoed on the still air. My feet were ice cold, but for a moment, I hadn’t been aware of anything else but the music.

  Never in my life had I been so enraptured by a song.

  Slowly, my gaze drifted over to Jason, whom, I suspected, had been watching me all along. I couldn’t imagine the kind of emotion he had to have felt to sing something like that so honestly.

  “This is off your new album?” My voice sounded hoarse, and I swallowed to clear it.

  “It’s called ‘Blue,’” he replied, nodding.

  “Jason…that was—”

  “I need you to understand what this album means to me,” he said, cutting me off. “This isn’t some playful drivel about cows on a farm—this is my soul, Abigail. My music is my life, and this album is an extension of who I am. I don’t want it handled like a gimmick that some bigwigs in a recording studio can play around with. I want this done right, by the right person.”

  “Me?” I ventured incredulously when nearly a second went by without him saying anything else. “You don’t even know me—”

  “Right now,” he began softly, “You just showed me who you are. You listened. That’s all I want. All I need. You listened.”

  The heat in his tone set off an explosive reaction in my body. My stomach turned to jelly. The vibration of his tenor traveled right down my spine and pooled in some deep-seated place that mere physical touch could never reach.

  You listened.

  I shook my head to clear it and inhaled sharply. “You wrote that song?”

  He nodded once again.

  Driven by a sick sense of curiosity, I couldn’t help but ask, “What is it about?”

  Jason surprised me by shifting to face me fully. His arms were crossed, effectively sealing him off from me, better than I figured the glass wall behind him ever could.

  “Why did you leave Holly Black Records?”

  I almost snorted on an uneasy bit of laughter. “That’s a rather personal question, Mr. Daniels.”

  His smile flashed for merely a second before disappearing altogether. “Likewise, Ms. Newman.”

  Oh. Touché. It would make sense that the meaning behind a song he had referred to as an extension of his very soul would be more than a little personal. But with lyrics like, “Can you look in the mirror and see your own fear? Glare at the wall, and shatter it all, when it comes into sight? Will you fight or pull the trigger?” one couldn’t help but be a little curious.

  Still, I knew when to back down, and after being shown something so raw, I felt the need to even the score a little. I could be nice, too, when I wanted to be.

  “So…” I exhaled heavily. “Why would you care about why I left HB?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Jason shrugged. “A young woman, fresh out of college, snags an internship at one of the most successful record labels in the country. It’s an opportunity that most in the field would kill for, and she works there for a year, only to quit at the exact moment she’s offered a job. A month later, she takes a position fetching coffee for the boss of a floundering publicity agency up the street. Pardon me for being a little curious as to why.”

  I gritted my teeth. Oh, how I hated being reminded of the past. “It’s dead and gone,” Daddy used to say. “Toss it out with the trash and move on, baby girl.”

  But it could be hard to move on when your “trash” was easy for anyone to Google.

  I sighed and glanced up to face Jason head-on, trying to ignore the tingles that shot through my skin at the eye contact. He held my gaze unwaveringly without giving me the chance to turn away.

  “All right. Let’s explore your little story from another angle. Let’s say that this woman had snagged her dream internship at an amazing label. Let’s go a step further and say that she worked her ass off for a whole year, pouring her blood, sweat, and tears into making a good impression. And let’s just say that…when she finally got that oh-so-coveted job offer, she realized that her
hard work and skills had less to do with it than her bra size. Oh, and, as a bonus, the director had a thing for blondes.”

  I was surprised by the scorn that leached into my voice. Four years later and it still stung.

  “So, the young blonde took her skills elsewhere,” I continued, struggling to keep my voice steady. “She found a boss who didn’t give a shit what she looked like, as long as she did her job. Happily ever after.”

  “I see.” The whole time, Jason had listened to me speak with no reaction other than to nod his head at the appropriate times.

  “Basically, she spent an entire year as office eye candy and was easily replaced by another big-boobed bimbo before the door could even hit her ass on the way out.”

  Gentlemanly nod.

  I couldn’t fathom him. His composure never wavered, but I had no doubt that he had heard every single word I’d said.

  “She sounds like a smart woman,” he said finally.

  “Ha!” I snorted. “More like one who was tired of getting on her knees to get by. After all, she had worn them out just getting through college.”

  I watched him carefully to gauge his reaction. He didn’t laugh. Didn’t wince in disgust. I had no idea whether or not he thought I was joking.

  “She sounds like a brave woman, too.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and shrugged off the thinly veiled compliment. “Okay, now your turn.” I narrowed my gaze and gestured to the recording booth. “What was the song about?”

  In an instant, he transformed from warm and open to more guarded than my apartment building. His eyes left mine to scan the burgundy wall above my head.

  “I doubt you’d believe me, even if I told you.”

  “Oh,” I purred, intrigued by the grim reluctance in his voice. “I love a naughty secret.”

  My grin was playful, but Jason didn’t crack a smile. Only belatedly did I recognize the hard note in his voice. How his eyes had taken on an icy crust of indigo to counteract the neutral darker blue.

  “I-I’m sorry,” I stammered to no response. Obviously, his secret was a lot more personal than mine. I sat forward, uncrossing my limbs and faced him with what I hoped passed for an expression that was every bit as non-judgmental as his had been. “Try me.”