“Another party,” I laughed, feigning cynicism as I rolled my eyes. I'm going to see him again? So soon? My stomach fluttered, making me wonder if I had eaten something strange. Singing, though, ugh. I suck at singing.
The waiter returned with Greg's card, relieving us of any more of the forced conversation.
“Are you sick of them?” Vanessa mumbled.
“What?” I asked, wrinkling my forehead.
“The parties,” she sighed, turning her head enough to place one eye on me lazily. “Are you sick of them already?”
“Oh, uh, well not really. I mean, it's a nice change for me, I didn't go to many parties back home.” Home, I thought suddenly, what does that mean? Am I still thinking of where I used to live as my home? It isn't, not anymore, so I should quit that. But... then, living with Vanessa isn't exactly my home, either.
She watched me another moment, then grabbed her purse, standing up. “We should get going, I wanted to show you the fashion streets today, Leah.”
“Oh,” I said, hurrying to follow her. Greg met my eyes briefly as we left the table, a short moment that let me glimpse something that seemed a little melancholy in him. Yet, when he noticed me watching, the smile he put on was wide and false, enough to erase any comment I could have made.
I wonder what he was thinking about.
****
The strip reminded me of a bag of candy that had spilled out everywhere. The colors people chose to dress in, the styles, it seemed everyone was walking around in their own bubble of rich self-importance.
It blew my mind, I openly gawked out the window while Vanessa pointed to various stores, explaining them to me as if the knowledge would sink in naturally.
“That's North Seal, I love their coats, and that's Jilly Heels, super nice and elegant,” she laughed, “also super expensive.”
It was a whole other world, it made me ashamed of my boring clothes I normally bought on sale racks. Pressing my nose to the glass, I left smudges until Greg put the top down, the wind tossing my hair, the sounds of the busy streets in my ears. It seemed everyone out here had a convertible.
Vanessa was cheering up, at least as far as I could see. She was smiling at Greg, turning in her seat to talk with me. All in all, it was becoming a pretty nice day, it allowed me to forget some of the things that had happened lately.
“You really know your clothing,” I said, trying to control my hair as it tossed in the breeze. “I guess I should expect that, though.”
“Thanks,” she said, hesitating before she spoke, “you uh, why didn't you tell me you were still painting? You never brought it up when we talked, I thought you went to culinary school?”
“I did,” I mumbled, peering out over the beautiful people, a sea of never ending perfection. I didn't want to tell her about my college experience, my extremely brief, awful experience. The fact was, unable to afford the costs, I'd managed to get half a year in before simply being forced to drop out. The school wasn't very understanding of people trying to juggle work and education.
It also didn't help that Owen had been on my case since the beginning about how I was clearly throwing my money away.
Vanessa didn't need to know that, no one did.
“It just wasn't what I wanted to do with my life. I don't know, I always wanted to do art of some sort, it just never worked out that way.”
She was quiet, but I felt her eyes on me. When she spoke next, she sounded wistful. “I remember how much you liked to draw when we were kids. Why didn't you decide to come with me, go to college out here? The place I went had a really good fine arts program.”
Because not all of us are lucky enough to have families to help pay for our education, I thought, but knew I could never say. Unable to look at her, I pretended to be extra interested in a shop we were rolling past. “I don't know, it just didn't line up that way. That's all, no big deal. Hey, you guys want to stop and check out that music store?”
Greg tossed a look at me in the mirror, turning the wheel, eyeing the road for a place to park. Vanessa, however, was watching me closely, not hiding it. “Yeah,” she muttered, “sure, let's go.”
Chapter 6.
––––––––
We didn't spend much time in the music shop, but it was a nice break from everything.
I didn't know much about music, as far as tone, beats, and all that junk went. But, I did have some bands I enjoyed, so with the karaoke party on my mind, I was content to listen to a few of them.
The foam headset was pleasantly heavy, blocking out everything but the steady, dramatic rhythm of the bass guitar. Rock was my favorite, the harder the better, it took me down under into a pleasant world of powerful sound that flowed to my toes.
I won't have the guts to sing tonight, I thought somberly, switching the track to my favorite song, 'Rain flow' by the Killer Sons. But, if I did, I'd sing this. It'd shock everyone, too, no one would expect me to belt out such an intense song. I was amused by the idea, yet still didn't think about the possibility as if it were real. I'd never sung in front of anyone before, I didn't expect that to change.
Here I am, trying to make a point about being different, becoming a new person, but I can't even change something as simple as this.
Even though I had suggested it, I was relieved when we left the store.
Greg dropped us off at Vanessa's place, leaving to go get changed for the evening's festivities. This left me and her alone, the elephant in the room finally a safe topic to discuss.
“So,” I began, digging through my bag for any sort of outfit that seemed fitting for the night, finding nothing but wrinkled clothes, “you were sort of cold to him today, huh?”
“Was I?” She lifted two dresses up, one long, flowing blue, the other tight, shiny red. “I didn't realize. Which of these do you like better?”
Glancing up, I pointed to the blue one, eyeing the entire contents of my wardrobe where they now sprawled over the couch. “That one. Also, what do you mean you didn't notice? You hardly talked to him at all.”
“I don't know what you're talking about. He was the one that didn't talk to me.” With that, she slipped into her bedroom, apparently getting changed.
Sighing, I scratched at my head, walking to her door, banging on it gently. “Vanessa, come on. What's really wrong?” Listening, I could hear her rustling around, apparently getting dressed. “Please, just talk to me. Did I do something? I'm sorry if I did, just tell me, okay?” Standing there, pleading with her through the wood, I was hit by a weird feeling that I had been here before.
No, I realized, close, but not exactly. I was inside the room, and Owen was...
Vanessa opened the door quickly, startling me, sending me tumbling forward. Her arms tangled around me, helping to steady myself as she chuckled. I was relieved to see she looked amused. “Leah, just forget about it. Please? If I tell you what I'm thinking, it'll probably just make you mad. I don't want that.” Stepping back, she lifted up a cute, pleated dress that was all cream and maroon, clearly well crafted. “Here.”
“What's this?” I blinked, reaching out hesitantly. The garment was soft, I was sure it was expensive.
“You don't have anything to wear, am I right?” Her smile was gentle, calming. “I thought you might want something else.”
“It's beautiful,” I breathed, shaking my head side to side.
Vanessa lit up, clasping her hands together tightly. “Thanks, I sort of made it.”
“What?” Confounded by her admission, I gave the dress another long stare of admiration. She designs clothing, I knew that, but for her to be so good at it, wow. “I don't even know what to say. Thanks, of course, but this...”
It was humbling, holding something that gave real credit to her skills. I felt strange, a bit sad, to be forced to understand the difference in talent between us. She's good, really, really good.
Together we finished changing, I was blessed to have my friend do my hair and makeup for me, too. I rarely bothered, I
wasn't much of a stylish person. If someone had handed me blush and eyeshadow, I wouldn't have known which went where. Owen had been keen to mock my attempts when I tried.
Vanessa, though, she knew what to do.
When she was done with me, I looked stunning. My eyes were dark, skin smooth, paler than before. Somehow, she had made me look healthier, in spite of that.
At her command, I twirled for her, feeling a bit like a doll. “How do I look?” I was nervous, uncomfortable, nearly tripping in my borrowed heels.
“You look great!” Though she said that, I couldn't help but stare at her, feeling dull in comparison. Vanessa looked elegant in her dress, a blue flower. She was the sort of girl you'd see in a magazine.
Next to her, I feel kind of boring. Still, there was nothing to do about it. I complimented her, she complimented me, then we were spared any more of the silly dance when Greg arrived.
He looked us both over, nodding approvingly. “Is that one of your dresses, Vanessa?” He asked, squinting at me.
She nodded, shrugging while heading to the door. “Well, she needed something. Come on, let's get going.”
He hurried after her, their long legs making me work to keep up in my heels. By the time we got to the car, a distance of only a few feet, I fell onto my seat with one depressing thought.
My feet are going to hate me after tonight.
****
Karaoke was not, exactly, what I had expected.
In my head, I imagined a bunch of people who could hardly sing, who came to these sort of bars because they wanted that moment on the stage. That they'd be drunk, loud, off-tune and ridiculous.
Apparently, not this group of friends.
I walked in with Vanessa and Greg, instantly hit by the strong, clear voice of one woman. She stood on the raised stage at the end of the room, singing perfectly into the mic like she'd done it her whole life. I'd have considered her the exception to the rule, until someone else went up, taking their turn.
It was clear, quickly, that these people were all far too good. Wow, I'm going to need a drink to handle this. Adjusting the hem of my dress, I strolled up to the long curve of wood on the right side of the room, eyeing the chalk board above while I decided what I wanted. There were a few people in front of me, but that was fine, it gave me a moment to decide if the insane overpriced alcohol was worth it when balanced against my finite funds.
Just then, the man in front of me turned around, letting me recognize that reddish hair, those breath-stealing eyes. “Deacon!” I gasped, blushing at my own abrupt moment of obvious shock. “Um, hey there!”
“Oh, Leah, you made it,” he laughed, his smile strong, genuine, when he looked me over. “You look great! Is that one of Vanessa's dresses?”
“I... yeah, how did you know?”
He shrugged casually, gesturing with the glass in his hand towards the group of people by the stage. “I went to school with her, I can recognize her style pretty well, now. She's very talented.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, a sputter of something hot and hard twisting up my spine. Somehow, his compliment bothered me, yet I didn't have time to investigate why. Calm down, remember what you decided last night! You can't get wrapped up in this guy. “I uh, was going to order a drink, so...”
Deacon nodded, tilting his head at me as he spoke. “Getting liquid courage for singing?”
“Oh! Haha,” I laughed awkwardly, wondering how red my face was, “no, not me. I don't sing.”
“That's too bad,” he sighed, sounding honestly let down. It cut at me, I almost changed my mind right then, ready to blurt out I'd do it, until the bartender called out near me.
“What can I get ya?”
Half-turning, I glanced at the man, then back at Deacon. “Uh, I'll talk to you after, okay?” He nodded, walking away with a rolling sort of grace that no guy should be capable of utilizing, but he did it so perfectly. Greg said he usually sings, I wonder if I really disappointed him when I said I wouldn't. What does it matter, though?
The bartender cleared his throat, making me jump. “Sorry,” I laughed, “I'll just take a rum and coke.”
Gripping my drink, I wandered back to the crowd, waving, greeting the people I recognized from the fire pit. Vanessa was quick to pull me next to her, an action I found strangely protective.
Sipping from my glass, I listened to the loud buzz of all the voices, not bothering to try and pick out individual conversations. I couldn't remember the last time I had been out to a bar, let alone a karaoke bar, the noise was overwhelming.
I did pick up one sentence, though, when it came over the speakers, spoken by the woman running the stage. “Next up we have Deacon! Deacon, come on up!”
Instantly, the crowd started to clap, the vibration sinking into my skin. I couldn't calm my heart, so I took a long pull from my drink, trying to relax my nerves. Wow, everyone is getting excited, is he that good? My anticipation only grew when I saw him, that smiling face, those glittering eyes.
He waved everyone off humbly, strolling up onto the stage with a skip in his step. I couldn't take my attention off of him, the lights illuminated his hard jaw, the wide shape of his shoulders in his green button-down. Somehow, even his nails on his hands looked amazing up there.
Cool down, Leah, jeez. But I didn't, I couldn't. He drew the eye, a natural performer, I felt the energy from the people who had witnessed this before. They clearly expected a good show, their anticipation made my own blossom. I tried to will myself to ease up, to quit squeezing my glass, especially when I was sure I felt Vanessa staring at me.
I thought I was enraptured, but then, he began to sing, and I truly knew what the word meant.
“Cool sorrow, fall away, fall away,” he crooned, before the group began cheering and clapping, partially drowning him out. I didn't need to hear the words though, I knew this song all too well.
Rain Flow, am I dreaming this? He's singing my favorite song, how does a guy like this know hardcore rock?
Deacon moved across the floor, singing comfortably, his tone smooth, deep. A tingle rippled down my neck, lifting hairs as it went. The way he sang the song was different than how I knew it, far more haunting and mellow.
“Drumming, crashing, losing you everywhere!” He shouted, breaking into the chorus, eliciting screams and whistles. I was too shocked to make a sound, my tongue felt swollen. My gaze followed his every twist, the way he bent his head, how his hair turned orange in the lights.
He lifted his chin, tracing his fingers over the handle of the mic, his voice going lower than the earth. “Cool sorrow, fall away, fall away...” When the song eventually ended, when the silence hung, he draped his golden-green eyes on me, giving the slightest of smiles.
My heart tightened in my chest, but through the heat of excitement, I felt the cold, miserable sweat of despair.
Oh, dammit. Dammit dammit dammit.
This was bad, to put it mildly. I was supposed to be putting up a wall between myself and Deacon, saving us both from trouble, from pain. Nothing good could come from this, I knew it, knew it in my core, but still my hands were shaking on my glass. It was empty, I didn't recall finishing it.
I needed to do something to control this, snuff it out before it got out of my hands. I needed... I needed...
His eyes moved my way, brushing over me with warm energy, curious interest.
I need to get some air.
Shoving through the crowd, mumbling apologies as I went, I pressed against blazing bodies and unfamiliar backs until I broke out of the alley door, the place I assumed people went to smoke.
Inhaling the crisp air deeply, my shoulders leaned on the chilly brick wall in all its graffiti covered glory. Lashes fluttered on my cheeks, the inside of my eyelids welcoming, dark. Even out here, I could feel the deep life-beat of the bar, someone new shouting out a song on the stage.
What should I do? Should I just avoid him? This is getting ridiculous, I'm being ridiculous. The guy doesn't know me, he has no clue I'm c
rushing on him. Smiling in my own chagrin, I looked up at the rich navy sky above, noting how I couldn't see any stars.
“It's from the smog,” the voice said next to me, causing me to jerk in surprise. Pushing away from the wall, I spotted Deacon in the doorway of the bar, his grin a little too entertained. “Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.”
“You didn't,” I lied, my heart punching inside my ribcage. Did he follow me out here? “What do you mean, the smog?”
He stepped out into the alley, moving to stand close to me, his attention upwards. “The reason you can't see the stars. I figured that's what you were thinking about.”
I was, but how did you know that? I wondered discreetly. Fidgeting with the hem of my dress, I pushed back against the brick, stared at the deep blue sky, if only so I wouldn't be distracted by his nearness. “That's funny, there's probably a joke here about stars and Hollywood.”
Deacon laughed, covering his mouth politely. “I'm ashamed I didn't open up with one, now.”
Watching him from the corner of my eye, I felt my lips curling at the edges. “Did you star gaze back home?”
“All the time, you get some of the most amazing views in Kentucky. Clear skies all around, no smog to speak of.”
He spoke wistfully, enough that I turned to watch him directly. Does he miss home? “Do you...”
“What?” He asked, twisting to face me, his eyes deep green in the shadows.
My mouth went dry, my voice weak, like I'd been running hard. “Uh, you... you sing really well,” I said, instead of what I'd been pondering. I can't go asking about things like his home, what am I thinking? That'll just lead to him asking about me, and I can't answer those kind of questions.
He inclined his head, a motion that should have seemed archaic, out of place, but somehow it worked for him. “Thanks, I enjoy it.”
“I didn't expect you to sing Rain Flow, though, I admit.”
“Why?” He asked, flashing his teeth teasingly. “Didn't seem to fit me or something?”
“No, actually,” I said, my skin warm from blushing, or perhaps the alcohol. “It's sort of one of my favorite songs.” More like my actual favorite song.
Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty) Page 88
