by Genia Avers
But she’d signed a contract.
Chapter Eleven
The group played to a packed crowd that weekend. Everyone else rode the high the realization of a dream brings. Tanith tried, but she couldn’t share their glee. Brent acted like nothing had ever happened between them. Almost six weeks since their sex Olympics and the hurt hadn’t lessened one iota. Their night of magic had been just sex—at least to him.
Worse, people on the street were starting to recognize her and she hated the celebrity. A couple of teens had even asked for an autograph. She wanted to quit the group and go back to oblivion, but she refused to run away. She could probably get out of her obligation, but what if the search for a new singer jeopardized Brent’s ride to fame? As much as she hurt, she couldn’t do that to him. Or to the rest of the band.
At every practice, Brent headed for the door the second the last set concluded. Maybe he’d found another quickie partner.
Tanith approached Marcus during a break, doing her best to sound casual. “What’s with Brent and his disappearing act?” If she could confirm Brent had a new cookie, maybe she could move on.
Marcus shook his head. “I knew you’d fall for him sooner or later.”
She glared, not liking the implication, “I am not one of his groupies!”
“Chill. I was only joking, luv. I never said you were a groupie—you think I have a death wish?” Marcus laughed. “You two are a lot alike, you know? Both of you are too serious and too damn dumb to appreciate the rock scene. I meant no insult, chickee. Don’t get your new thong in a wad.” He gave a playful tug on the strap visible above her new hip huggers. “Why do you care where he goes anyway?”
She slapped his hand away. “I was just curious.”
“Sure.” He shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated gesture. “Seriously, sweetheart. Don’t fall for him. I’ve never seen Brent get serious about anyone.”
“Anyone?” Tanith was surprised. “But, Amanda—”
“Anyone.” Marcus confirmed. “You can’t listen to anything Amanda says.”
“Me? Listen to Amanda? I’m not an idiot, Marcus.”
“You’re not?” He opened his mouth in pretended amazement.
She laughed. She’d left herself wide open.
The expression on Marcus’s face turned thoughtful. “It’s good to see you laugh again, chickee. I was afraid this scene was getting to you.”
“It’s good to laugh again. I’ve been stressed out since…” Since Brent had basically said the best night of her life was a one-night stand. “Well, forever. Brent’s weird behavior just makes it worse.”
“Forget Brent.”
Tanith opened her mouth to protest, but Marcus put his finger against her lips. “No denials. Just forget him. He’s missing the relationship gene.”
“At least he’s not berating me anymore.” She hoped her casual comment hid how hopeless she felt.
“True,” Marcus replied. “I’ve seen him like this a couple of times before. When he’s working on a new set of songs, he withdraws. Usually though, he’s a bastard when he’s writing. His upbeat mood is confusing even me. But we’re not talking about him. What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean? I thought you said I sound great.” Tanith forced another smile.
Marcus frowned. “You do. You just don’t look great.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Come on, doll. We both know you’re a looker. I mean you don’t look happy.”
“I’m fine, Marcus.” She didn’t want to discuss the state of her mind. “I have to go. See you tomorrow.”
He grabbed her arm. “Seriously, luv. You’re our meal ticket. As great as Brent’s songs are, they’re just lyrics without you.”
“No pressure there.” She tried to grin, but something seemed to punch her stomach from inside her skin. “I really have to go.”
“Just promise you won’t quit until after the tracks are laid.”
“I won’t leave you hanging.” She whirled, unable to face the guy who’d become a good friend. There had to be a way to get out of her contract without hurting the band. The longer she stayed, the more her heart would shatter.
“If you get lonely,” Marcus yelled as she walked, “there’s always me.”
“Yeah,” Tanith joked, “I’ll take a number.”
****
Brent glanced at his watch. A half hour late. He’d never been late for a rehearsal, but he doubted the group would complain. Not after he told them the news. He did wonder, for the third time, why he wasn’t happier.
If you could share the news with Tanith, it would be sweeter.
He pushed the heel of his palm into his forehead. Ridiculous thought. Hadn’t he vowed to keep another woman from trampling him? He’d done the right thing when he brushed Tanith off. For all her sweetness, she wasn’t that different from Amanda. Actually, she was very different from Amanda, but he had no time for getting involved.
He had to pursue his dreams or he was doomed. Amanda had almost castrated him musically and it had taken him months to get his head back in his songs. He couldn’t let Tanith distract him now. Sooner or later, her image would quit haunting him.
When he arrived at the club, he stood by the door, trying to savor the moment. The Tough Guys had started practice without him and were well into the first set. Good.
Amanda noticed him first. Then Marcus stopped playing. Tanith kept singing—her voice edgy, but tinged with sadness.
Was she sad? Brent doubted it. She’d been pretty quick about dismissing their night together. If she had been affected by it, she certainly hid it well. Another reason to avoid her. Wouldn’t do to let her see how much she’d affected him.
She opened her eyes. Brent felt the stirrings of arousal as he remembered her opening her eyes during their night of passion. Her mouth dropped open. He had a vivid memory of those lips too.
Damn. He needed to stop thinking about her. Especially her lips.
He avoided her stare and looked at Amanda. She winked lewdly, dousing all thoughts of sex.
“You’re late,” Marcus barked. The keyboardist’s grin negated his harsh words. “Tell him he’s late, Tanith. He certainly gave you a ration of shit that time you were late.”
“I have a good reason.” He smiled and waved the packets he carried in his hand.
“Like I didn’t,” Tanith mumbled. She’d spoken so softly Brent almost didn’t hear her.
Despite his resolution to keep his distance, he grinned at her. She looked away.
“What you got there?” Marcus asked.
He handed a packet to each person. As they started to tear into the packet, his eyes sought Tanith. He was eager to see her reaction when she peeked inside her large envelope.
“Dude, what is this?” Marcus asked.
Tanith still hadn’t opened her envelope, but he forced his gaze away. “I have good news and I have better news.”
“No shit?” Julian howled. He’d removed all the papers from his envelope. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
“Yep. We have a contract. We’re going to record with a major studio.”
Simultaneous shrieks and shouts made a response impossible. Tanith allowed Julian to hug her, but she seemed aloof. Her expression barely changed when Marcus grabbed her in his arms and twirled her around. Brent experienced an unfamiliar jealousy. He wanted his arms around her.
She remained calm. Stoic. What the hell?
He tried to stifle his disappointment at her response as first Marcus, and then Julian rushed toward him with high fives. Amanda launched herself at him. He extracted himself and whistled to get the group’s attention.
“The producer who watched us a couple weeks back liked our stuff. A lot. I’ve been negotiating during the past week. All of you have a copy of our contract. We don’t sign it until everyone is in agreement with the terms.”
“Of course we agree,” Marcus yelled. “Where’s the bloody champagne?”
&n
bsp; “Later.” Brent held up his hand. “We need to start working on the music right away. Our deadline is short. The title track is in your packet. Let’s get started. We can celebrate when the tracks are recorded.”
“Jesus, Brent. Give as a minute to savor the moment,” Julian complained.
It took a while, but he managed to get everyone in place.
“All right,” Marcus nodded. “We’re ready.”
“Ready, Tan?” Brent asked.
She nodded, but when the music started, she failed to sing the lyrics. The musicians stopped playing in staggered order.
Brent peered at Tanith, hoping the damn woman didn’t realize the song was about her? God, he’d done everything possible to make her think she was just a pal. He’d even endured, no he actually encouraged, Amanda’s touch whenever Tanith came around. Just to keep her at arm’s length.
“Tanith, is something wrong?” He swore he saw daggers when she looked at him.
Her expression held the first hint of emotion she’d displayed since she’d screamed his name. “No.”
“Don’t you like it?”
“Yeah, sure,” she replied. “Just give me a minute.”
Brent bristled. He’d poured his soul into that song.
****
Is something wrong? Of course something was wrong. What an idiot. Brent might have been asking her if she wanted ketchup with her fries.
Tanith stared at the sheet music, trying to compose her panicking thoughts. She didn’t want a contract. She didn’t want to watch Brent every week realizing she couldn’t have him.
The damn song was titled, Unexpected Love. Jerk. He’d found someone else. It was as simple as that. The music was too personal, too different from his other stuff to be explained any other way.
She whispered a little prayer of thanks that she hadn’t told him how she really felt. If not for the years of voice lessons, she wouldn’t be able to produce a sound. Fortunately, her vocal cords weren’t tied to her heart—she would sing, even if it killed her.
“Nothing’s wrong. The song is fabulous.”
Brent shrugged, not seeming convinced. His problem.
“It’s bloody fabulous.” Marcus whooped. “B-man, this is your best shit yet.”
Chapter Twelve
The next weeks were the most hectic of Tanith’s life. Between classes, recording, and performing, she rarely had a chance to breathe. Her life spiraled out of control while her heart plummeted to hell.
Marcus teased her about her determination to finish her master’s degree. “Love, enjoy this. You can always go back to school.”
“Leave her alone,” Julian retorted. “If I had a day job, I’d keep it too.”
She ignored them. All of them—especially Brent. His new songs were soulful, beautiful. In her weaker moments, she allowed herself to hope, foolishly, that she might have inspired some of the music. Surely Early Morning Loving was a reference to her one experience with Brent.
In my dreams. Of course the song wasn’t about her. She meant nothing to him.
She complained to Darson after the recording sessions. “Fool that I am, I’d hoped he was just scared, prayed he might really care about me. Not a chance. He isn’t exactly distant with me, he’s polite.”
“Oh, honey.” Her pal sounded genuinely distressed. “Polite is the kiss of death. It’s time to move on.”
Didn’t she know it? Brent had moved on, why couldn’t she do the same? They’d had wild sex—nothing more.
“There’s something I have to do first.” She hoped her voice teacher had a current phone listing.
****
As the weeks passed, the frantic schedule got worse. In addition to more recording sessions, photo shoots, and school, the new manager grew insistent. “The Tough Guys have to play more gigs. We’ve got to promote the new tracks.”
The out-of-town concerts were the worst. Unlike the other members who had no distractions, Tanith took a bus home after each gig. She had classes to attend and a thesis to finish. Probably a good thing since she could barely contain her tears when she looked at Brent. Still, her body was desperately sleep-deprived. Her heart was in worse shape.
She’d gotten a list of names from her voice teacher. Any one of the women could probably step in and take her place, but she couldn’t muster the courage to tell the manager she wanted out. She should probably talk to Brent first anyway, but even if she could get him to stand still long enough to hear her idea, she doubted he’d agree. He didn’t want her, but he seemed obsessed with having her as lead singer.
Finally, they finished the last track. The group made plans to celebrate. Tanith just wanted to sleep.
“Why wait until tonight?” Marcus asked. “Let’s go out now.”
“It’s three o’clock,” Tanith said. “In the afternoon.”
“So?” Marcus waggled his eyebrows.
Tanith shook her head, determined she wouldn’t look at Brent. “You’re a maniac, Marcus. You guys have fun and have a drink for me. I have to study.” She hurried for the door before the keyboardist could talk her into staying. “I’ll see you tonight if you’re still standing.”
She didn’t really have to study. She’d completed her last exam and turned in her thesis. She didn’t feel like celebrating. The guys would bring dates and she’d feel worse. She wasn’t ready to face Brent’s new girlfriend.
“C’mon, Tanith,” Marcus yelled. “We can’t have a party without you.”
“Sure you can,” she said with exaggerated lightness. “And no cracks about my need to improve my mind. You dumb asses.”
She strutted through the door as if she owned the world. Her bravado lasted for half a block. When she felt certain no one from the club could see, she plopped down on a bus-stop bench. Over the years, tears trickled down her cheek from time to time, but she hadn’t really cried since her parents died. She was more than due, but the tears didn’t come. They would have been preferable to the black gloom descending around her. She closed her eyes and tried to refocus her mind.
“If not for your hair,” a voice intruded into her misery. “I wouldn’t have seen you.”
Tanith opened her eyes. Brent towered over her. A haze of sunlight served as a backlight, making his profile look surreal.
“Huh?”
“Huh? Huh, she says.” He sat down next to her. “Fine talk from the brainy woman who called us dumb asses. What’s wrong?”
Despite the ache that clutched at her lungs, she felt a little twitch in her checks. “Nothing. I’m fine. Go celebrate with the other dumb asses.”
“I know you’re fine!” He traced the collar of her jacket, his fingers barely touching her neck. The contact ignited a fire, overheating her body despite the chilly spring day. “I also know the semester ended last week. What gives?”
How did he know that? “I have other plans.”
“I have other plans too.”
He studied her face. Too closely.
“Other plans?” Tanith cursed her impromptu question. Now he would talk about the new woman in his life.
“Yep. I’m hoping to celebrate with my girl. You see, I was a bit of a fool. To make amends, I’m doing something I don’t usually do. I’m putting it out there—hoping I haven’t misread the signals and she cares about me. Despite the ass I’ve been.”
There it was. Expected, but no less painful. She couldn’t look at him.
Good for you, you big cockroach. She nodded, pretending to look for the bus.
“That is,” he put his finger under her chin and forced her to face him, “I have plans if a certain lady doesn’t reject me. Can’t say I’d blame her if she did. I’ve been an ass. A dumb ass and a dumber ass. My only excuse is I’m…I suppose I’m scared.”
She brushed his hand away, confused. His words made perfect sense, but why did he touch her.
“You’re still mad at me.” He reached for her hand.
She stood up to avoid his touch, resisting the urge to stomp her foot
. Her anger and hurt pushed her go-with-the-flow personality aside. “What kind of game are you playing, Brent? Okay, I was going to be cool about this, but you’ve made it an issue. Leave me alone. Go to your new girlfriend, and quit playing with my head.” She’d walk home. Or at least to the next bus stop.
“Come on, Tanith. Talk to me.” He darted around her, blocking her path. She could smell a hint of mint.
“No. It’s too late for talk.” She shook her head, determined she wouldn’t cry. “You know what? I thought I could handle this, but I can’t. I quit.”
The bus pulled alongside the curb. Finally, luck was with her.
She tried to walk around Brent to get on the vehicle, but he shifted, blocking her path. “What do you mean, you quit.”
“I mean, I’m not singing anymore. I got a list of possible replacements for me from my voice instructor. I’ll email the names to you.”
His mouth flew open. She took advantage of his shocked expression and skirted around him to get on the bus.
“You can’t quit. We have a contract.”
Tanith didn’t turn around as she fumbled for change. “Tell it to my lawyer.”
Note to self. Get a lawyer.
Chapter Thirteen
Tanith stepped off the bus and walked toward her apartment. She felt as if some whacked surgeon had removed all her vital parts. Only cold emptiness remained. And a bone weary tired.
Reaching her building, she fumbled for her keys, almost stepping on a man on the steps.
“Oh. Sorry.”
The man stood. “Finally, I’ve been waiting for almost fifteen minutes. You could have saved your bus fare.”
She jerked her head up. “Brent. What are… Why are you here?”
He grinned, his beautiful smile filling her empty parts with grief. “We need to talk.”
“Brent, let’s not do this. I get it, we had a bit of fun and you’ve moved on.”
“I tried to get you out of my mind. I poured my feelings into my songs, trying to purge you, but your beautiful face just wouldn’t let go of my heart. I know I should have talked to you sooner, but I had to get my head straight first. I thought you cared about me. Please tell me you still do.”
