Irresistible Refrain t-1

by Michelle Mankin

  After a brief shower, I wrapped my kimono around myself and exited, relieved to see the curtain to Bryan’s bunk was closed. I reentered the bedroom and found War beside the nightstand, his belt to use as a tourniquet, a spoon, some cotton, a glass of water, and a couple of syringes lying on top of it like an illicit banquet.

  My gaze met his.

  “I know you said you were trying to cut back, babe. But it’s been a couple of days and I figured you might need a little something. It’s just a small dose. I know my heart’s still racing from the lines we did earlier.”

  He was right. I’d never sleep tonight without it. This was who I was now. This was what I needed. Sinking down on the edge of the mattress, I nodded, held out my arm, and let him do me up.

  9

  The bus was parked when I finally rejoined the land of the living. War snored softly sprawled out on his stomach in the bed beside me. Sunlight seeped in through the heavily tinted windows. I sat up slowly, groggy and more than a little nauseated. I put my head in my hands, tears I swore never to shed burning behind my eyelids.

  I was such a failure.

  I couldn’t make it more than a few days without needing another hit.

  Sighing heavily, I picked up War’s cell from the nightstand. Eleven already. I’d been out for ten hours. Looking outside, I saw roadies moving in and around the tour bus parked beside us. Quietly, I pulled on a distressed pair of jeans and drew a purple long sleeve Henley with lace sleeves over my head. As soon as I opened the door, the smell of coffee and doughnuts hit me and my stomach lurched.

  “Morning,” my brother mumbled, wearing yesterday’s clothes of course, his gaze washing over me. “You look like shit.”

  “So do you.” I gave him the finger. “Who’s in the bathroom?” I asked.

  “King.”

  My chin dropped. I’d been on the bus enough days to know what that meant.

  “Yeah, it’ll be a while.” Dizzy banged on the door. “King, how many times I gotta tell you, brother. Shit, shower and shave. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. Get your sorry ass out already!”

  Even through my nausea, I had to smile at my brother. “The three s’s, huh?”

  Dizzy chuckled. “King’s a total diva with his morning routine. He even has moisturizer.”

  “I hear you, pendejo,” King’s muffled voice drifted out.

  I shook my head and shuffled down the aisle to the front of the bus, swiping my sunglasses off the counter as Dizzy shut the door to the fridge. He handed me a bottled water. “You should try to stay hydrated.”

  “Sure,” I mumbled, taking a seat at the banquette.

  Dizzy took a seat on the bench opposite me. “Lace,” he started, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “You sure you’re doing the right thing getting back with War so soon after Martin?”

  “Are you seriously giving me grief about my love life?” I arched a brow in disbelief. “That’s just wrong on so many levels.”

  He had the decency to look ashamed, but his gaze remained steady. “I should’ve been more outspoken how I felt about Martin. I hate what he did to you, Lace. All those times I called you never let on how things were, and now the shit you’re doing with War. I…”

  “Don’t,” I cut him off. “No lecturing, alright. You’ve got no right. It’s not like you’re a Boy Scout.”

  “That’s different. You’re my sister.” He sighed, his eyes searching mine. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be.” I shrugged. “I’m alright, Diz. I’m all grown up now. You’re not responsible for me anymore.” I covered his hand. “I just need to level off some. Then I’ll be fine.”

  I didn’t get the sense that he was buying any of it.

  “What’s the deal for today?” I tried to inject some enthusiasm into my voice before I took a small sip of water.

  “Same as Boston. Room keys are at the front desk if you wanna unwind inside the hotel. The whole tenth floor’s exclusive for the tour. Catered breakfast and lunch. Sound check at noon. Band has to be at Wells Fargo Center by seven.”

  Ok.” I nodded. “I’m going to go get one of those keys now since King’s commandeered the commode.” I patted him on the back as I made my way past.

  After a wonderfully long hot shower in a decent sized bathroom, I felt a lot better. I wasn’t really hungry but I knew I should probably try to eat something. Following my nose, I wandered down the hall to an open area where an elaborate breakfast buffet was laid out. It was so late. I really expected to dine alone.

  Wrong.

  My stomach flipped. Avery Jones was even more beautiful in person, red hair, green eyes and her leather vest and merino wool cowl sweater were obviously some rad designer. I felt shabby and self-conscious by comparison in my no name faded shirt and worn jeans.

  “Morning.” Well, Miss Perfect actually graced me with a greeting. What was the protocol? Should I bow?

  I decided to ignore her. I selected a banana, a yogurt, and a muffin, and poured myself a cup of coffee. Balancing my bounty, I turned.

  Brutal Strength’s celebrity guitarist was appraising me with a speculative expression.

  My spine straightened. Bring it. She was just a person same as me. “This seat taken?” I asked haughtily, indicating the chair across from her.

  “No. Have a seat.” Her full lips lifted into a soft smile. “I’m Avery.”

  “Lace Lowell.” I wasn’t buying the nice act. I made up my mind right then that I wasn’t going to like her. For one thing, she had probably slept with Bryan. Just the thought of his hands or lips on her was reason enough by itself. I worried that all she would have to do to get him running back to her was to crook her little manicured finger.

  Besides, she was a successful musician, engaged to the man she wanted and who wanted her, and it seemed like she had her shit together while my life was a complete and utter mess. I didn’t want to look any deeper than that. I didn’t want to admit, even to myself, that Avery represented everything that I wished I had and wanted to be.

  “I saw you the other night at the meet and greet in Boston,” Avery began as I peered at her over the steam from my coffee. “You come down to Philly on the Tempest bus?”

  I nodded noncommittally.

  “Lowell.” Avery’s brow creased slightly. “You related to Dizzy?”

  “Yeah. He’s my brother.”

  “So you’re War’s…girlfriend?”

  “Yeah,” I hissed, spine snapping straight. “Who’d you think I was? Some random groupie?”

  “No.” Avery’s auburn brows lifted in response to my venomous tone. “Only I’ve never seen Tempest bring a woman from one stop to the next. So I just didn’t know…”

  “I’m no whore if that’s what you’re trying to imply,” I interrupted.

  “I didn’t mean any offense.” Avery’s lips pressed into a frown. “I’m sorry. We seem to have started off on the wrong foot somehow.”

  Damn straight. I’d like to stomp on those Vince Camuto suede wedges of yours.

  “What’s going on, Ace?” a deep voice rumbled behind us.

  I turned to see who that gorgeous voice belonged to.

  Holy fucking shit.

  The lead singer of Brutal Strength. Marcus Anthony. The guy was definitely nice to look at. Dark, wet hair dripping into the collar of his t-shirt, ripped bod, killer blue eyes, but at the moment he looked kinda pissed.

  “Nothing.” Avery’s gaze flicked to me. “Just a little misunderstanding with Dizzy’s sister.”

  “I gotta go.” My chair clattered with the force I used pushing it back. “Later,” I mumbled hurrying out into the hall, running right into Bryan. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower also. His hair was wet and spiky and he smelled really, really good. My heart pounded hard. The black Tempest t-shirt he wore fit him nicely and made his eyes appear more grey than green in the low lighting of the corridor. He hadn’t toweled off well, a fine sheen of moisture glistened across the dark ink slashes
on his corded arms. I glanced away; my cheeks heating as I suddenly recalled the way I’d looked when he’d seen me last night.

  “Where’s War?” he asked without any hint of embarrassment in his tone. I guess he’d already moved on from what had happened.

  “Back on the bus would be my guess. He was still sleeping when I left.”

  “It’s eleven fucking thirty,” Bryan grumbled, drawing out his phone, long masculine fingers moved quickly and efficiently across the screen. “War. Asshole. Do you know what time it is? Get the fuck ready…Yeah, yeah…She’s with me.” A sigh. “Ok. We’ll see you there.” Bryan slipped the phone back in his pocket. “Come on, Cinderella,” he said, guiding me toward the elevator. “Prince Charming wants me to escort you to the ball.”

  10

  As soon as the elevator door closed, I turned and put my hands on her delicate shoulders. I could feel the warmth of her skin through the gossamer fabric. “Lace,” I began lowering my voice even though we were alone. “I’ve been trying to tell you since yesterday. What you overheard me say to Dizzy that morning, you’ve got it all wrong.”

  She shook her head. The silky ends of her hair brushed across the tops of my hands. Like it happened just yesterday, I remembered how soft it had felt against my bare chest. All the blood in my body rushed south in response to the memory. I took in a lungful of air, trying to get myself under control. Last night had been a test of willpower too, a tossup between wanting to kill my best friend for having his hands on her and wanting to be in his place.

  I’d bought her that pink dress that had been bunched up around her waist. I’d wanted to be the one between her open legs. I’d wanted her head thrown back in pleasure like that because my mouth, not War’s, was on her breasts. My heart rate flipped into overdrive. I lost the battle of mind over body, and my hold on her turned into a caress.

  “What was it I got wrong?” Her shoulders tensed and her angry tone penetrated my sex hazed brain. “Was it our whole relationship or was it just one of the two times you fucked me that night. Maybe it was my inexperience.” Her expression was as harsh as her voice. “Though the way I hear it, most guys get off knowing they’re the first.”

  “Stop it, Lace.” My fingers dug into her arms. “Don’t make it into something ugly.”

  “I don’t need to do that. You did that all on your own with what you said.” Her eyes narrowed, the pain I saw in them leaving me feeling cut up inside. I had to fix this.

  “Listen, Lace Lowell, and listen good.” I moved my hands up to gently frame her face. “What I said to your brother was the only part about that night that wasn’t real. Stop twisting my words. That night with you was beyond incredible. What you gave me was the most beautiful gift I’ve ever been given.”

  “Bryan,” she breathed out softly looking unsure and shaken.

  I put a finger over her smooth satiny lips. What I intended as a silencing gesture became something else entirely as soon as her lips parted and I felt her warm breath against my skin. I stared into her mesmerizing eyes. “When Dizzy showed up, I’ll admit I panicked. I didn’t know what to do about War. I was just trying to buy time so we could sort it all out. But I never meant to hurt you. I…”

  The elevator dinged and the door slid open. Dizzy, Sager, and King stared at us with unhinged jaws.

  I dropped my hands. Lace took a step back.

  Dizzy frowned.

  I noticed Lace wobbled a bit as she stepped out and moved past her brother.

  “War’s up,” Dizzy told me with a meaningful glance. “He’s meeting us at the center.”

  Silent as a funeral procession, we all piled into the chauffeured Suburban. Conversation was subdued. Sager slurped on a coffee in the back row. In the passenger seat, King drummed on the dash, earning a couple of warning glares from the driver. Dizzy stared out the window, and I watched Lace out of the corner of my eye. Looking pensive, she was perched on the edge of the middle bench seat between Dizzy and me. She kept her head down, picking at the threads on her jeans the entire fifteen minute drive. I desperately wanted to know what she was thinking.

  As it always was with her, I was hyper aware of her presence. My nerve endings sparked with heat each time we turned a corner and my leg brushed against hers.

  Once we reached the Wells Fargo Center, we all climbed out, passed through security, and then were escorted to the stage.

  “Wow!” Lace exclaimed, turning around in a wide circle. “This place is huge.”

  “Yeah, it’s a lot bigger than the Orpheum.” Dizzy dropped his leather jacket on the floor and lifted his guitar from its stand. “That was more of a historic, vanity stop. This is the real deal, a proper rock venue.”

  Sager whooped, his yell echoing in the empty, cavernous arena.

  I continued to watch Lace. She still seemed unsettled from earlier. I certainly was. She tugged on the frayed cuffs of her purple Henley looking uncomfortable and out of place as we got ready to play. It wasn’t so long ago that she would’ve been getting ready right alongside us. As I plugged in my Les Paul, she drifted off to the edge of the stage and my mind drifted back in time.

  2 years ago

  “Where is he, Bry?” Lace asked again for the third time.

  “I don’t know.” Truth was I did know. War was at the courthouse for the final hearing for the sentence he’d served that should’ve been mine. But I wasn’t at liberty to tell her that. I’d made a promise. And God knows I kept those, especially for him. I blew on my frozen fingers. The temperature in her uncle’s garage wasn’t much warmer than it was outside and the damp night air seemed to seep under my skin.

  “I’ve got to go to work soon,” Sager complained. “Can’t we just go ahead and rehearse, crank out a few songs without him?”

  “Yeah. This is bullshit.” King accented his statement with a drum roll on his snare.

  “Lace, why don’t you teach us that ballad you showed me the other day?” Dizzy suggested.

  She shook her head, her ponytail swishing between her shoulder blades.

  “C’mon. I told you it’s really good,” Dizzy cajoled.

  “We could use a ballad.” I threw in my support as promised.

  Her gaze flicked to me. She was trying to communicate something, but I didn’t know what.

  “I agree.” Sager said. “We really need something they can slow dance to in the clubs.”

  All eyes turned to Lace.

  “Alright.” She sighed and moved to the keyboard. “I’ll play it through one time, but I’m stopping if anyone laughs.”

  Her jeans tugged tight across her ass as she took a seat. I swallowed and looked away, my eyes colliding with Dizzy’s narrowed, knowing gaze. I ran a hand through my hair, remembering his sobering warning to me: Unless you plan to tell War, you need to put a lid on those feelings, bro. If I’ve noticed how things are between you two, it won’t be long before War figures it out too.

  I couldn’t bottle them up. My feelings had gotten way too strong to deny. If only War wasn’t always sending me in his place to smooth things over with her whenever they fought, which was all of the time and if only I hadn’t crossed the line with her on the beach the other day.

  The first few notes of a somber cascade of sound reached my ears, demanding my attention. I turned to look at her. Lace’s eyes were closed. Her soprano voice was hesitant, but soft and get under your skin and give you goosebumps beautiful. Vaguely I noted that everyone else was still as statues and staring at her, too.

  As soon as she started the lyrics, I knew immediately why she’d given me that look earlier. This song was about us. About hidden passion and a stolen kiss on the beach that had ended way too soon.

  Too soon for both of us.

  “Lace, do ‘Forbidden’, please.” Sager’s annoying whine brought my mind back to the present. His bass was thrown over his back, his elbows resting on the piano where Lace had taken a seat. “Please,” he said again, putting his hand over his heart and acting like a complete dork
. “I love that song. It always gets to me.”

  Lace shook her head, eyes sliding to me.

  “Please Lace,” King begged, copying Sager as he moved over next to him.

  “Oh, alright, just for you two.” Lace ran her fingers over the keys and tapped on the mic. “Test. Test.”

  Then she sat back, poised her fingers over the keys, and began to play. Her voice sounded especially amazing over the arena’s sound system as her surprised expression registered. There’s a world of difference between singing in a garage and hearing your voice pumped out through one of these babies.

  Straightening her shoulders, she continued. Her amber eyes took on a faraway look, and her voice, well… Holy fucking shit. It was strong, confident, and seductive as hell. The emotion she injected into the song sent a chill up my spine as I listened.

  When she finished, I knew just like all the roadies and event staff that had gathered around to watch.

  A talent like Lace Lowell’s was meant for center stage.

  11

  “Brilliant, Lace.”

  I smiled absently acknowledging Dizzy’s praise. As the last note on the piano faded out, my mind was already fading too, back to that day on the beach with Bryan, and the kiss that inspired the song.

  2 years ago

  I peeked over at him as he walked beside me. His black hoodie was pulled back from his head, allowing the breeze to ruffle his long hair, sorting through the light brown strands like I wished I could do. He was staring out at the ocean. It sparkled like his eyes did, reflecting the last rays of the sunset. The waves spilled rhythmically onto the shore like gentle breaths.