Defining Destiny

by Deanna Chase

  I’ve got my hand on the door handle when Cadan says, “The contracts are already signed. The songs will be recorded no matter what you do. Are you prepared for someone else to sing them?”

  My heart races and my vision clouds with darkness. Dizzy, I turn slowly and look him in the eye. “What do you mean the contracts are signed?”

  His shoulders hunch forward. “I signed for you. I thought you just needed a push to get you through this grief about your dad. You love spending time in the studio, and with these songs, I knew the label would make us a priority for the next record.”

  “You signed? For me?” The urge to kill him is so strong, I take a step back toward the door.

  He shrugs. “I have before. The signature matches.”

  Son of a… shitballs! He had signed for me. There was a time when I was taking care of Dad when I’d been too overwhelmed to deal with business and had left Cadan in charge. He mastered my signature just to make it easy on me. He’s got it down to perfection. Shaking, I take three steps forward and say in a careful tone, “You will tell Cassie what you did and you’ll tell her I’m no longer part of the deal. Forget the rest of the tour. I’m not doing it! If she wants to sue me for breach of contract, so be it, but I’m out and I’m taking my songs with me.”

  “It won’t be that easy,” Cadan says, his face white.

  I’d just put a major wrench in his plans. He’s a great performer, but the reason most of our fans come to see us is for the magic our combined harmony produces. Without me, he’s just another lead singer of a garage band.

  “Cassie isn’t going to let you walk. And if she sues you, it will be for a hell of a lot more than what they’ve paid us so far. You can’t go. Not now. Do this one last album, then you can cut ties with me. But give me a chance to apologize. To make it up to you. I promise no more booze and no more opportunity for”—he waves a hand toward the bedroom—“this sort of thing. If I don’t go out with the band, the temptation is removed.”

  I can’t believe he’s standing here negotiating with me. It’s as if he has no clue how much he’s hurt me. I pull the door open, cast him an uncaring glance, and step into the hall. Then I turn back to level him with a steely glare. “No. Not now. Not ever again. Stay the hell away from me, Cadan. My lawyer will be in touch about the songs.”

  “Lucy!” He follows me out into the hall. “Wait.”

  I stop in front of the room that’s supposed to belong to the pair of us. “Go back to your guests. I’m sure within ten minutes this fight will be the furthest thing from your mind.”

  As soon as I get into our suite, I flip the security lock and then sink to the floor, my entire body shaking with adrenaline.

  “Lucy,” Cadan calls through the door.

  It makes me physically ill to know he’s standing out in the hall barely dressed. I have to get away. As far away as possible.

  I do two things. First, I call my lawyer about the songs and breaking my contract. He’s dubious, but says he’ll do his best. Then I call Jax, my best friend.

  “Lucy! I miss you,” she says by way of greeting. “I saw that video. Your song is amazing. I can’t wait to listen to a live version.”

  I grumble. “We’re not recording it.” My voice wobbles, and being Jax, she notices it right away.

  “What happened?”

  I suck in a breath. It gets caught in my throat, and I swallow hard. “Cadan sold it without my permission. Then I walked in on him with two girls this morning.”

  “Jesus,” she says quietly. Then she screams into the phone, “That asshole! I’m going to kill him.”

  “Get in line.”

  “I will.” She’s seething enough for both of us. Then she takes a deep breath. “What can I do?”

  “Pick me up at the airport?” I move to the closet and yank my suitcase out. “I’m coming home. Today.”

  Chapter 2

  Lucy

  The four-inch heels on my thigh-high boots wobble with each step through the gravel parking lot. Dammit. I’m going to sprain an ankle before we even get inside. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Then I wouldn’t have to go through with Jax’s birthday present. I’m probably the only twenty-one-year-old in the state of California who would rather sacrifice a limb than spend the evening drinking with the beloved local band.

  Jax runs ahead and stops in the club’s doorway. “Hurry up, Lucy. It’s freezing out here.”

  I make a face and wrap my wool coat tighter, blocking out the sea-scented wind blowing off the ocean. “I’m coming. Keep your skirt on.”

  She tugs at her micromini and laughs. “For the next few hours at least.”

  I manage to make my way to the door without falling on my ass. “Don’t be slutty just because it’s your twenty-first birthday.”

  She tucks her arm through mine and presses close to me. “Since when did I ever need an excuse to be slutty?”

  “Right. I forgot. Jax the man-eater. They’ll never know what hit them.” My tone is dry with sarcasm. Jax is hardly a virgin, but she’s only been with one guy—her high school boyfriend. And she hadn’t given it up until after graduation. They broke up nine months ago after Brad met his soul mate. That’s the way it works. One minute you’re happy, in love, and then bam. Your boyfriend meets his mate and everything changes.

  “Exactly.” Jax tugs me into the club. “Tonight’s the night. Mission Boy Toy commences.”

  I give her an indulgent smile and slip off my jacket. The coat-check girl scans the length of my body and makes a tsking noise as if I’m wearing Julia Robert’s hooker outfit from Pretty Woman. Give me a break. My dress isn’t that bad.

  “Damn, girl.” Jax whistles appreciatively, her silky blond hair slipping over her shoulder. “Tonight’s supposed to be about me finding a man, not having them fall to their knees after taking one look at you.”

  She’s teasing, and I know she doesn’t care what I wear, just as long as I’m here. She’s been begging me to go out with her for over three months now. I finally caved, but only because tonight is her birthday celebration. I couldn’t let this milestone go by without me. Besides, I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.

  “You’re lookin’ pretty hot yourself,” I tell Jax. She’s wearing a black miniskirt paired with a whore-red halter top that’s open in the back and red fuck-me pumps. Her exercise of choice is swimming, so her traps and delts are cut, but not too bulky. She looks sexy as hell, and with her outgoing personality, I’m betting she’ll have more than half a dozen guys begging to take her home by the end of the night. Not that she’ll go. She talks a good game, but when it comes down to it, she always keeps them at arm’s length.

  I smooth my hand over the silver-sequined minidress and point myself toward the bar. I won’t last another two minutes without some liquid courage. “I need a shot of Patrón.”

  “Now you’re talking!” Jax bounces up to the bar, her boobs practically spilling out of her low-cut top, and leans over, waving at the bartender. At least someone’s excited.

  I should be excited. I should be euphoric. Six months ago, I would’ve been so amped up I wouldn’t have been able to sit still. But tonight all I feel is dread. I force myself to glance up at the empty stage. My second home. The only other place I ever feel truly myself. Tonight the lonely microphone taunts me. Cadan won’t be beside me. I’ll be singing with a band I’ve only practiced with once and everything will be different. Including my voice.

  “Bottoms up,” Jax says and hands me the shot glass.

  We each go through the ritual of licking salt off the fleshy part of our palms and then down the amber liquid.

  I grimace and bite into a lime, washing away the sting of alcohol. “One more.”

  She lifts an eyebrow in question. “You sure?”

  “If you want me up on that stage in ten minutes, then I’m going to need another.”

  “Okaaaay. Give me a minute.” Jax waves at a tall, vaguely familiar blonde across the room and says, “I’ll be r
ight back.” She disappears into the growing crowd while I wait for the tequila to start working its magic.

  The coat-check girl eyes me again as she walks by, and she huffs something close to disapproval. Someone has a serious case of bitchitis. I snap my head to the side. “What’s your—”

  Oh, holy hell.

  The words fly out of my head, and I gape at the tall, dark-haired specimen lounging two stools down. He leans against the bar, a beer bottle dangling from two fingertips as his eyes travel to the hem of my dress. At home, the fact that it only fell about five inches past my butt hadn’t bothered me. Now I feel naked.

  Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I don’t look away. I can’t. His brilliant green eyes are undressing me right here in the bar. And God help me if I’m not doing the same to him. Both of his arms are covered in brightly colored tattoos. A dragon is snaking its way under the sleeve of his black T-shirt. My fingers ache to reach out and trace the vibrant green scales.

  He clears his throat.

  I snap my gaze back to his.

  “You’re new,” he says.

  “Um. Sort of.” I mentally shake myself to keep from jumping him right there. Whoa, Lucy. What the hell? I don’t even know this guy’s name, and here I am, dreaming of ripping his shirt off. “I’ve been away for a while, but I grew up here.”

  “In Mendo?” he asks, using the local’s slang for Mendocino. “How come we’ve never met?”

  I shrug. “I haven’t been home often in the last three years.” Also, prior to that I’d lived with my mom and her husband for a while. But I’m not going to bring that up. “You didn’t grow up here. I’d remember.” No female with a pulse could forget eyes like those.

  His lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. The one that says he knows exactly what his proximity is doing to my hormones. “No. We moved here right before my senior year in high school.”

  “Ouch. That’s rough.” I’d been a sophomore when I’d been carted off to Mom’s house. My life had been a walking nightmare right up until the day I’d left to tour with Cadan.

  His smile fades, and he glances at the floor as shadows darken his eyes. “It wasn’t so bad.”

  The change makes me want to place a hand on his arm, ask him what memories are haunting him. Find out what secrets are buried beneath his gorgeous shell. But I don’t even know his name, and Lord knows I’m not willing to spill my guts to some stranger, no matter how sexy he is.

  “Hey, hooker.” Jax slides up beside me, handing me a second shot of Patrón. “I see you found an interesting way to keep yourself occupied while I was gone.” She smiles and waves. “Hi, Seth. You’re looking especially hot tonight.”

  My mouth forms a shocked O. Seth? Seth Keenan? This is the guy Jax keeps talking about? The guy she’d befriended her senior year in high school? The one whose soul mate was killed in a car accident a year and a half ago? The one I’d told her she should date to get over Brad? That Seth?

  His gaze travels to her ample cleavage, and he gives her an appreciative nod. “You’re not so hard on the eyes either, Jax.”

  She laughs. “Stop checking out my boobage. You have zero chance with me. Not the way you operate.”

  I narrow my eyes at the exchange, hating the way my gut clenches with jealousy. But not from his overtly sexual glances. No, it’s the easy banter and playful exchange they have going on. When’s the last time I was like that with anyone from the opposite sex? Months.

  Leaning into me, she whispers, “Total manwhore. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with the same girl twice.”

  He grins and shrugs unapologetically. “My loss.”

  “You know it!” She holds up her shot glass. “Let’s make a toast.”

  I follow suit, trying to avoid Seth’s gaze. The last thing I need is to be interested in a self-aware manwhore. “To Jax and the best twenty-first birthday celebration to ever roll through Mendo.”

  “To Jax,” Seth says. “May some lucky jerk finally get to take you home.”

  She giggles and presses her glass to mine and Seth’s. “To the best friends a girl ever had.”

  The tequila burns going down and my eyes water. I’m not a big drinker. In fact, I hardly ever drink. But tonight’s different. I can’t do what Jax wants without a little help. I want to do it. It’s just hard to face the memories.

  I slam the shot glass down on the bar and stumble forward. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Whoa,” Seth says, grabbing my arm to steady me. “Maybe you should sit down for a minute.” His words are said with kindness, but his green eyes turn stormy with a mix of worry and judgment.

  “I’m fine.” I tug out of his grip, irritated at his reaction. How dare he judge me? We’re in a bar for gawd’s sake. “I’ve only had two drinks. It’s these boots. I’m not used to standing on stilts.”

  “Uh-huh.” He wraps his arm around my waist, steadying me.

  Heat sears its way through my skin. His rock-hard body sends electric shocks deep into my center, making me shift uncomfortably. All I want to do is clasp my hands around his neck and press into him as we sway to the Maroon 5 song blaring over the club’s loudspeakers.

  “Aren’t you supposed to sing in a few minutes?” he asks.

  His question snaps me out of my drunken lust haze. “Um, yeah.”

  He clutches me tighter and chuckles. “This should be entertaining.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Just looking forward to the show, no matter how it turns out.”

  I glare and step away from him, steadier now. “No matter how it turns out? Seriously? Don’t be a jerk. It’s not easy to get up in front of a room full of drunken assholes and sing your heart out.”

  His eyes widen in surprise and he opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t give him a chance. “Forget it, dude. I don’t need this. I’ve got a show to put on.” I stalk off, praying my ankles hold. Crap. I should’ve worn the platforms. At least then I’d have something to balance on.

  “Lucy!” Jax calls. “Wait.”

  Her eyes are twinkling with laughter, and I force myself not to scowl. “What’s so funny?”

  “You.”

  “What did I do?”

  “Nothing. Except you totally put Seth in his place.” Her tone is light, but I can tell she’s feeling out my mood and wants to say more.

  “What?”

  Her smile falters, but she pastes it back on and leans in to whisper, “Don’t you think you might’ve been a little defensive back there?”

  I push through the door leading to the dressing room. “Maybe, but I’m tired of that shit. You know how I feel about people who bag on performers.” Why is it that people who don’t sing or act think it’s okay to trash those who do? It’s like a damned sport for some people to see who can be the meanest.

  She stops in front of the door marked Band and crosses her arms over her chest. “Yes, I do. But I think he was making fun of your inability to hold your alcohol, not the fact that you’re finally going to sing. Jeez, Luce, he’s only been listening to me brag about you for two years now. I think he expects tears of joy to rain down from heaven when you put those pipes to work.”

  “Jax!”

  “Well, it was almost true when…” She bites her lip. “Sorry. It’s just that when you were with Cadan, you two made people weep. How could I not talk about it?”

  “I’m never singing with Cadan again.” The words make me cringe. There was a time when I thought I’d always be singing with him. When our voices melded, it was almost as if the universe stopped. A light would fill my soul and a deep-seated peace settled over everyone within earshot. People said it was a miracle. And it was for those who’d endured life’s hardest challenges. To be able to take away a moment of suffering had been a gift. One I cherished. Cadan had taken that from me, too.

  “I know,” Jax says, patting my arm.

  She’s sympathetic and tries to be understanding, but she doesn’t know what I’m going throug
h. She hasn’t met her soul mate yet. And until she does, she’ll never understand the devastation of losing that connection. I lean against the wall, staring at a guitar case. Someone had covered every square inch with a violent ocean scene, the waves crashing over the sides of the case.

  I’m lost in the beautiful destruction and it hits me. That’s exactly what I’d had with Cadan. Beautiful destruction. Everyone else saw the beauty of our harmony, while I was stuck with the shit he created with his selfishness.

  I’m done letting him treat me as if I’m nothing but a meal ticket on his way to fame and fortune just because I happen to be unlucky enough to be his soul mate. No. I’d watched my mom be that person for the last eight years. I’ll be damned if I make the same mistake she did.

  The door to the dressing room swings open and three guys dressed in all black, with various facial piercings and tattoos, file into the room.

  Jax pastes a huge smile on her face. “Ahh, you’re here!”

  The tallest one, Mike, leans down and picks up the guitar case I’d been eyeing and nods in her direction. “We’ve been here. Just waiting on your girl.” He glances at me and gives an appreciative nod.

  “Oh, well, she’s here now and I can’t wait.” Jax rushes to my side and leans in to whisper, “I’m sorry about that Cadan stuff.”

  I grit my teeth, wishing she’d drop it already.

  “Really I am. Honestly, it’s been so long since you’ve performed without him, I can barely remember what it’s like to hear just you.”

  Perfect. It’s what I’m afraid of most—having my performance compared to what I sound like when I’m with Cadan.

  Jax pulls the door open. “Break a leg.” Then she eyes my boots. “I didn’t mean that literally.”

  I shake my head, feeling my lips twitch into a small smile. “I hope I don’t disappoint.”

  “Not a chance of that,” Teo, the lead guitarist, says. “Fuck, we’ll be lucky if they let us off the stage at all after they hear your pipes.”

  I blush. These guys hadn’t known me during the period I like to refer to as my “Cadan days.” They’d heard of me, of course, but had promised Jax they wouldn’t bring him up or the fact I’d left him. And they hadn’t. Thank God. Our practice session had been the most fun I’d had onstage in years. But there hadn’t been anyone staring at me expectantly from the audience. There would be tonight if anyone recognized me.