Dark Dream (Love in Illyria Book 1)

by Adalind White

  She held back the urge to apologize. Carter knew what he was doing. If he thought she was ready, she was going to do it. Her relationship with her parents was on the rocks. Her friends were in Andrew King's studio. All she had left was Carter.

  After the deep darkness inside Dusk, the mid-day sun and the fresh snow blinded her when she left. She walked straight into the big man at the door.

  "Sorry," she said.

  The bouncer put his hands on her waist and lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing at all. She grabbed onto his shoulders while her toes fluttered off the ground.

  "What are you doing?" she said with an undignified squeal.

  He set her delicately on a pedestal in front of the club's entrance.

  "Excuse me, miss," he said. "You were about to step into this sludge. I'll call you a cab."

  She looked at the hole filled with muddy snow and at her lovely suede boots. The mayor should really do something about the sidewalks. She realized she had no idea who was mayor and decided to find out who would run in next year's election.

  "How do you know I need a cab?" she asked looking down into his warm brown eyes. "Maybe I have a car."

  "I saw a taxi dropping you off when you arrived," he said, looking into his cell.

  She hadn't noticed him when she went into the club. The guy was easily six feet tall and built like a brick house. How could she walk past without seeing him?

  "Stop," she said. "I can call my own cab."

  He looked up at her, and bowed his head slightly. "As you wish."

  "I also wish I weren't standing on a box in the middle of the street."

  He reached up toward her waist again, but he hesitated, his hands hovering around her for a few moments. Her raised eyebrow spurred him into action. He picked her up again and set her on her feet next to him. Very, very close to him.

  "Thank you," she said in a strangled voice.

  She got her cell out and took a step away, straight into the puddle of melted snow, but kept walking.

  "Are you sure you don't want to wait inside, miss?" he asked.

  Big fluffy snowflakes were falling over her cell phone screen. She turned around, ready to snap at him, but his earnest face made her reconsider. She was spending too much time around Carter. His mind games and his attitude were rubbing off on her. Being rude to people she hardly knew was a Carter tradermark. Not hers.

  "Vy," she said, thrusting her hand toward him.

  He took it gently. "Philippe."

  "Not Philip?" she asked, taking her time to look at him. He wasn't much older than herself. Her limited experience with night clubs hadn't prepared her for meeting a guy who looked like he could be an underwear model guarding the door.

  Underwear? Really? She blushed and let go of his hand.

  "No," he said. "Philippe. Philippe Neige. At your service."

  They walked back inside the club and stopped next to a stand with postcards and other Dusk promotional materials.

  "Is that how you throw people out of Dusk?"

  His lips didn't smile, but his eyes did.

  "Might be. It's my first day."

  "This could be your signature move."

  So smooth, Vy. When did you last flirt with anyone?

  Flirting. That was what she was doing. She looked back down at her cell, and tapped on the app to call a taxi.

  "You can see for yourself next time you're here," he said.

  "That should be New Year's Eve," she said, not looking up.

  "That's too far away," Philippe said.

  The tips of her ears grew warm. If she wasn't very much mistaken, that was also flirting.

  "Can I see you sooner?" he asked.

  She felt a lightning bolt of pain through her chest. Andrew King's face flashed through her mind. If that wasn't a good reason to start dating, nothing was. Another handsome face was in front of her right then and there.

  "Sure," she said with more difficulty than she expected.

  She reached for a postcard and scribbled her number. Her phone pinged, informing them that her taxi was outside.

  "Bye," she said and dashed out before he could offer to carry her to the cab in his arms.

  Andrew

  The crazy traffic before Christmas added an hour to his drive, and he was still two hours early at the airport. Diane and Christine's connection flight hadn't even left from Amsterdam when he was ordering his added a sugar to his coffee. He stirred the coffee, staring at the arrivals board as if he hadn't just checked the time on his phone.

  His phone vibrated. The first message from Diane was mostly made up of emoticons and consonants. Two letters stood up though. Vy. The second text shed light on the situation. Through some logical leaps, he got to: "Vy is opening for the Waves on New Year's Eve at Dusk. Please please please please please please please please get tickets."

  He was already looking through his contacts for Jeanne Trell's number when the third message came.

  "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease."

  Warmth spread in his chest and tears blurred his vision for a moment. As if he would ever refuse her anything.

  He didn't have many gigs at Dusk because the Waves were so often there, and avoiding Carter's negative energy was a long term habit, but Jeanne was an old friend. She was the only member of the cast of teenage stars who had become a friend. His only link with his life before Wanderlust. If it weren't for her, Wanderlust would have never played at Dusk at all.

  She answered on the first ring. "Andrew, what a pleasant surprise."

  "Hello, Jeanne. How are you?"

  "At the club, as usual. You?"

  "Fine," he said. "Jeanne, I need a favor."

  "Anything for you, you know that."

  "I know it's short notice and you guys are packed, but I need a couple of seats for New Year's Eve."

  "Of course," she said. "No problem. I can set another table next to the stage."

  That was not a good idea. Even with Diane there, he didn't want to be that close to Vy. He wasn't sure he was ready for that.

  "Actually, there's a second part to the favor."

  "Okaaay," Jeanne said. "Tell me."

  "I'd like it to be more out of the way. The table is for me, and I'd rather not be recognized."

  The silence at the other end stretched a beat too long. "Hello?"

  "Sorry," Jeanne said. "I dropped the phone."

  Of course she'd imagine he's bringing a date. When will he learn that dating was an option for him? Jeanne was one of the few people who knew about the divorce.

  "It's not like that," he said. "I'm bringing my daughter. It doesn't even have to be a table because I'll have to run to my own gig. Diane wants to see Carter's girl."

  It hurt to use those words, but he couldn't trust his voice to say her name. Jeanne knew him too well not to catch it.

  #

  He was supposed to be on stage across town in less than two hours, but he scrapped his pre-performance routine so that Diane could be there to see Vy. Jeanne had done something worthy of a magician and they were in a nook from which they saw the stage perfectly, but they were virtually invisible to the crowd.

  "Dad, you're amazing! This is great," she said for about the hundredth time since they got there.

  "I'm glad you like it, honey," he said. "You understand that as soon as she leaves the stage we have to run, right?"

  "Yeah, I got it. The Cinderella clause."

  He tried to ruffle her hair, but she dodged his hand.

  "We went to Didier for this, remember?" she chastised him pointing at her perfect hairstyle.

  How could he forget? She had booked the New Year's Eve appointment for the two of them at the fanciest hair salon in Illyria since October. He had to admit that the stylist done an excellent job with his hair and beard. He might spoil himself and become a repeat customer.

  "Do you think Carter will let her sing Dark Dream?" Diane asked, munching on a breadstick.

  He took a sip of his
tea. "He might. He said he liked how she sings it better than me."

  "She kind of does sing it better than you," Diane said. "But I don't think he will let her. He hates you way too much for that."

  "How do you know he hates me?"

  She shrugged. "I just do."

  Right. The all knowing superpower of being a teenager.

  "Why do you like her so much?" he asked.

  "I don't know. I like her voice. What she sings. How she dresses."

  Her voice trailed off and she scrunched up her face in concentration. "I like the way she is. Like she's not afraid of anything. Even you said she's not afraid of TC, and that guy is nuts."

  He smiled. "She is fearless. That's what all her friends say."

  She hopped with her chair until she was next to him and she pressed her cheek into his arm.

  "I like Vanilla Velvet with Bryce but… they're not the same," she said. "I'm sorry you didn't get her, dad."

  He kissed the top of her head. "Thank you, honey."

  Diane held his arm tighter, not complaining about the dent his chin made in her Didier hairstyle.

  Chapter 19

  Vy

  In late January she had her first night solo at Dusk. She didn't even have energy to be nervous about it. Carter had broken up with his actress girlfriend at the beginning of the year and he seemed determined to consume all her time. She started to appreciate Isabella once she was out of the picture because instead of being with his lover, Carter was holding her hostage in the studio all day and night.

  She had managed to see Philppe a few times since their first date in December. Secretly, she was grateful that she had Carter as an excuse to keep things casual with him. The guy worked as a bouncer to pay his way through college. He reminded her a lot of Bryce and sadly that sort of condemned any romantic sparks. Bryce and Marvin had joined Sebastian in the brotherly love category. She was pretty sure that Philippe wouldn't appreciate being there.

  "We'll work on it tomorrow," Carter said from behind the dark glass.

  She stood up and stretched. She'd been in front of that microphone for three hours straight. "I'll be at Dusk tomorrow."

  "After," he said. "I'll be here."

  "Carter, come on!" she exclaimed. "When you play at Dusk, you stay past midnight there."

  He didn't say anything and she wondered if he had turned off the sound from the booth. She marched into the control room.

  "The set will finish after midnight," she said.

  He was hunched over the music sheet. "I'll be here."

  His voice was so faint, so exhausted, so utterly sad and devoid of any energy, it scared her.

  "Are you all right?"

  He looked up at her. "What did I tell you about being everyone's best friend?"

  "To not."

  He seemed suitably appalled at her phrasing to bring a vague smile to his lips.

  "I'm not trying to be your best friend," she said. "But I care about you, you… monster. And you don't look all right."

  He ignored her speech. "Were you planning to spend the night with your bouncer?"

  She exploded. "Why the fuck would that be any of your business if I was?"

  He shrugged off her anger. He knew her too well to believe she was truly upset. "It would do you good. Give the boy a chance."

  "Because fucking around is making you so happy," she said.

  He cocked his head and looked at her even more amused than before.

  "I don't like to be happy. Didn't you figure that out by now?"

  She hadn't figured out much of anything about Carter. Every time she thought she learned something about him, he showed her a new side of himself.

  "Love is not worth the trouble," he said. "I loved one woman my whole life, and I hurt everyone else because she didn't love me back."

  She had always believed Tim had loved Alba Richmond-Orsay, but their relationship had started about five years earlier. Not enough time to count as his whole life.

  "Do you ever wonder why I am so hard on you?" he asked.

  She nodded. She had gone through many possible explanations in her head. She was light-hearted and cheerful. She was rich. He wanted to make sure that she didn't treat music as a hobby. They all fit, but none seemed enough.

  She could hardly hope he was going to spell it out for her.

  "You don't have to be here tomorrow," he said. "You should do the bouncer."

  She rolled her eyes. It was just like him to draw her to the deep end only to show her it was another puddle.

  "I don't want to hurt anyone," she said. "Not you, not anyone."

  He started. He had challenged her to figure out when he was afraid. This was the first time she sensed the fear in him. For some reason, she was important to him and he was afraid he was going to lose her.

  "If you're here," she said, "I'll be here, too."

  Andrew

  He was following Dusk's social media as a way of staying in touch with Jeanne. He was used to ignoring the updates about their performance calendar, but that day mid-January he couldn't ignore it. Vy's first appearance on her own. First step out of Carter's shadow.

  He had to be there.

  "Hey, Jeanne," he said when his friend picked up.

  "I might get used to you calling me more than twice a year if you keep it up," she said.

  He should have called her more often. Since the divorce, he had a hard time in the company of happily married people. Not that Jeanne made a big deal about her happy life. Although she had confided in him during her single days, when he had been her confident and diligent listener of her bad date stories, he couldn't do the same. Not that he was dating anyone. Unless fantasizing about Vy could be called dating.

  "Umm," he said. "Sorry. I'll-"

  "I'm just teasing you," she interrupted him. "Call when you want to call, Andy."

  Few people still called him Andy, and Jeanne was the only one who brought a smile to his face when she used his nickname.

  "I feel even worse now," he said. "I called because I need a favor."

  "Another one?" She laughed.

  "Same favor," he said. "Same payment."

  "This shapes up to be a very good year for us," she said. "I start the year with hottest girl in town and Wanderlust in my club the same month. Done!"

  "Thank you."

  "No problem. Just checking: you want two seats, out of the way, right?"

  "One is enough this time," he said. "But yeah. I don't want anyone to know I'm there. Not even your staff it's possible."

  "Okay, Andy. Her show starts at nine. If you're here a few minutes after she starts, the room will be dark. I'll be at the entrance and take you to the table. No one will see you."

  "Perfect. See you there."

  Jeanne was manning the desk when he arrived, and she guided him through the dimly lit club to the same nook where he had stayed with Diane.

  "How are you?" Jeanne asked softly when he sat down.

  He looked up at her, and tried to lie. She'd seen him at the worst time of his life. He shook his head.

  "Don't ask," he said. "I'll get it together."

  "If you need anything…" she said.

  He squeezed her hand.

  "Only time," he said.

  She squeezed his hand back, nodding.

  "And tea, right?" she asked.

  The applause informed them that Vy had showed up. Jeanne left him alone without another word.

  On stage, Vy was bathed in the only light in the room. He saw the edge of nervousness when she stepped to the microphone, but when she spoke, her voice was steady. Bold. Beautiful. Like her.

  He leaned back into his chair, wrapping himself in the feeling that she sang only to him.

  She was dressed all in black, in a vaguely familiar mix of leather, silk and lace. He took out his phone as soon as she started to sing, and ordered a dozen black roses from Magnifique. Almost a year had passed since he had last used that shop to order flowers for his wife. His fingers hesit
ated when he got to the "message" field but decided it to leave it empty. He made sure to uncheck the "add sender's name" box. He paid for the one-hour delivery and sent the order before the first song was over.

  The Waves songs weren't a surprise. A corner of his heart wanted her to sing his Dark Dream, but his mind knew she wouldn't.

  #

  For the next months, the Vy alert on his phone told him in what clubs she was booked and at what TV shows she was invited. He managed to stay out of the clubs, but he watched her every time she was on TV. Although he never asked about her, her brother and her friends from the band brought up Vy stories all the time. Mostly old stories, he realized.

  He finished swimming in the gym's indoor pool when he saw Jeanne's missed call. He called back before he hit the shower.

  "Missing me already?" he asked smiling.

  "Always," she said, and he heard a smile in her voice. "But I'm asking to check if it's ok with you if someone sings your songs at Dusk."

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  "You have tribute bands all the time," he said. "You have the right to perform covers, surely."

  "Obviously," Jeanne said. "But if she asked for my permission, I'm giving you the option to say no."

  "Who asked you?"

  "Carter's girl," she said. "Don't worry, I won't tell her you said no, but I would like you to be fine with it."

  Carter's girl. Carter's girl. Carter's girl.

  "She's fine. It's fine," he said. "You know what songs?"

  "Does it matter?" Jeanne asked.

  He shook his head. It didn't matter.

  "You're right. No, I'm fine. She can sing whatever she wants."

  "Great," Jeanne said. "I can't wait to hear her do your songs."

  He took in a deep breath. He tried to stop himself.

  "It's next Thursday," Jeanne said. "I'll save you the same table."

  "No, Jeanne, you don't have to-"

  "You don't want to see her again?"

  Desperately.

  "To hear her," he said.

  "Close your eyes then," Jeanne said. "I'll wait for you on Thursday."