Irresistible Refrain t-1

by Michelle Mankin

  I tried to focus on the soothing sound as I continued to watch him. What would he say when I told him? I wasn’t sure. That’s why I’d kept silent for so long. I decided to ease into it. “Have you given any more thought to my idea about a ballad?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Bryan turned, his eyes resting on mine. “But I don’t know how the other guys are gonna respond. Have you and War talked about it?”

  “He was less than enthusiastic.” I puffed out my chest and lowered my voice. “If you want more time at the center mic, Lace, you should just say so.” I completed my impersonation with one hand on my hip and a finger wag near Bryan’s face.

  “Yeah. That sounds about right.” Bryan slanted a brow. “I have to say I don’t think it fits our image.”

  “I disagree, Bry. Ballads are some of the biggest hits for your favorite bands. ‘Sweet Child of Mine’ is GNR’s only number one hit in fact. And what about ‘Nothing Else Matters’ for Metallica or ‘Home Sweet Home’ for Motley Crue or…”

  “Ok, ok, Lace,” he said cutting me off.

  “It’s what sells Bryan.” I pressed. “More women buy music than men.”

  “Ok you write one then, and I promise I’ll back you up about it with the band and with War. Maybe together we can win them over.”

  Together. Oh, yeah. I liked that idea. A lot.

  My heart started pounding hard, and my palms got sweaty. No more stalling. Time to tell him how I felt. That I was in love with him…

  Hopelessly.

  Helplessly.

  Heedlessly.

  But I was terrified to say the words out loud.

  Because although sometimes I thought he might feel the same when he looked at me with warmth in his eyes or when his touch lingered, there were plenty of other times, like right now when I just couldn’t read him.

  And then there was War.

  He and Bryan were so close. The bond they’d forged during their years together in middle school was real and strong and obvious to everyone.

  And I loved War too. But it was so different with him. He didn’t make my heart pound out of my chest like Bryan did. Sure War listened to me, but Bryan seemed to really hear me and made me feel like my opinions were valuable. With War, and the other guys I’d dated before him, I always held a part of myself back. War never pushed to get past that barrier. More often he just ran over me. Deep down that made me wonder how much he really cared.

  The longer I was with War, the more I found myself opening up to Bryan instead. Recognizing this, I’d pulled back from going all the way with War.

  I wanted Bryan to be the one.

  “Bryan,” I started, putting my hand on his arm.

  “Lace,” he said at the same time.

  “You first,” I said with a teasing ghost of a smile. Still afraid. Still unsure.

  “Alright.” He sighed and stared back at the ocean. “I’ve got feelings for you.”

  I froze and held my breath.

  “Feelings I’ve got no right to have.” He shoved his hands deep into the front pockets of his jeans and finally looked at me. “War’s my best friend. We’ve gotta stop hanging out together. It’s wrong. I shouldn’t have let it go this far. We can’t do this anymore.”

  I shook my head, blinking back the tears that burned my eyes.

  No.

  I turned and ran back the way we had come, too proud to cry in front of him. I heard his footsteps behind me. I sped up, glad to be wearing lace-ups instead of slip-ons. I couldn’t let him see me like this so I ran faster. I thought I was going to be able to get away when I made it to the stairs. I had my hand on the railing when he caught me.

  “Lace.” Breathing hard, he grabbed my arm and spun me around.

  My long hair slapped against my face stinging like a whip. “Let me go, Bry.” Stupid, stupid sand had slowed me down. “I heard you. Message received, loud and clear. I get it.” My voice sounded as raw and exposed as his words had made me feel.

  “No you don’t, Lace. You didn’t give me a chance to finish.” He scrapped a hand through his windblown hair.

  “So finish,” I countered harshly.

  “You’re only sixteen…”

  “Oh, and you’re such a man of the world because you just turned nineteen,” I interrupted sticking my chin out. “I love you. I’m old enough to know that much. And I’ll be seventeen next month, Bryan. I’m graduating early, same time as you. I’m not a child.”

  “I know that, Lace. Believe me I’m very aware of that fact.” He tenderly framed my face with his hands. I melted when he brushed his thumbs softly across my cheeks. The roar of the ocean and the cry of the seagulls receded, giving way to the thundering sound of my pulse in my ears. We both stared at each other. I could see myself reflected in his gorgeous eyes.

  Bryan swallowed, breathed my name in a whisper, and then his lips touched mine. My body erupted with sensation: warmth at the point of contact, tingling across the surface of my skin, and molten heat inside that all but consumed me.

  It was just as I’d always dreamed it would be with him, only better.

  My fingers fisted in his shirt. I suddenly needed something to hold onto to keep my balance in a world that felt like it was shifting beneath my feet. In a world that had suddenly been reduced to just the two of us.

  His lips moved, a gentle persuasion, coaxing mine to open. The shaking escalated into a seismic explosion the instant his tongue rubbed softly against my own.

  I tasted him.

  He moaned.

  I whimpered for more.

  But then suddenly, he pulled away, creating a separation I knew neither of us really wanted.

  And if I’d known at the time just how wide that gulf would become, I never would have let go of him.

  12

  I watched as the last of Lace’s admirers congratulated her on her performance. I was just about to go over and do the same when War showed up, the tail end of a black scarf trailing behind him as he approached her at a swift clip.

  I stopped. Tension held me fisted in its grip. The realization hitting me hard that wish all I wanted, War would always be a wedge between us.

  “What the fuck, Lace?” War’s expression was livid. “Why the hell didn’t you do that yesterday when I asked you to?”

  She didn’t answer but her chin rose.

  “You’re doing it just like that tomorrow night in Atlanta.”

  “No, War. I’m not.” Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “I was just messing around for King and Sager.”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer, Lace,” War bellowed as they faced off like two opponents in a ring.

  “I’m my own person, Warren Jinkins!” she yelled, leaning in toward him, her hands moving to her hips. “Stop riding me about this. I’ll decide what I will and won’t do.”

  “War,” I walked over to him with my hands out. “Maybe you should…”

  “Stay the fuck out of it, Bryan,” he shouted, his anger veering toward me.

  Lace took advantage of the distraction I’d provided and spun around, her footsteps echoing as she stomped off the stage.

  War’s eyes cut back to me. “Bullet.”

  “Not this time, man. I’m through with being the peacemaker. You want her, you go after her. Only let me suggest you let her cool down first if you want to get anywhere.”

  “Hey, guys.”

  We both turned as Marcus Anthony strutted up to us like he owned the place. “BS is up.”

  Was this asshole totally oblivious? His timing certainly sucked.

  “Back the fuck off, chief.” War pointed to his watch. “Tempest’s still got five more minutes.”

  Marcus frowned.

  I grinned. Shit like this reminded me why War and I were so tight. I was tempted to give him a congratulatory fist bump right there in front of Marcus’ arrogant face. I mean just because BS was headlining, and Marcus got to fly around in a big jet while we rode on tour buses with the roadies didn’t mean his shit didn’t
stink. It hadn’t been that long ago that Brutal Strength had been an opening band just like us. And it hadn’t been that long ago that Marcus’ fist had made a little contact with my face. Granted I punched him first. But still.

  In a blatantly dismissive move, War turned his back on Marcus and stepped up to the center mic. He tapped it once, and looked over his shoulder at King. “’My Way or the Highway.’ Count it out.”

  When we got back to the hotel, War jogged up beside me. “Got a minute?’

  “Sure.” I stopped. “What’s up?”

  He threw an arm over my shoulder and steered me to the right. “Come get a drink with me in the bar.”

  As soon as we entered the low lit lounge that was heavy, and I mean heavy as in every available surface covered in Philadelphia Eagles motif, War excused himself. “Order me a beer. I’ll be right back.”

  I grabbed a seat and was already nursing a Kinsinger, munching on some peanuts, and watching the game on the wall mounted television when War returned from the restroom. He sniffed a couple of times. I frowned, not fooled for a minute.

  “You told me you’d stopped doing that shit,” I said glaring at him, my voice just loud enough to be heard over the television.

  War cast a nervous glance around the half empty room.

  A sudden prickle of unease tingled its way along my scalp. A disturbing thought occurred to me. What if Lace was doing drugs with him? No way. She wouldn’t. She’d just been drunk the other night. That was all. After the crap we’d seen with her mother, I’d totally ruled it out, and Lace hadn’t just seen it, she’d lived it. Pushing that concern back down, I leaned in closer. “Seriously War I don’t want a repeat of the RCA tour. It took me six months to pay off my part of the advance. I’ve almost rebuilt enough savings to get my mom into a house. Don’t fuck this up for us, man.”

  “I’m not, Mama Jackson. I just needed a little help to be on for tonight’s show. Don’t go all narc on me just because you don’t do ‘em. I’ve got it under control.”

  “Really? You almost slept past sound check today.”

  War frowned and reached for the beer bottle the bartender placed on a coaster in front of him. He tipped it back between his fingers and took a swig. “Now that you mentioned band stuff, I didn’t like the way you countermanded me in front of everyone, especially when it comes to Lace.”

  I tensed.

  “Before you get all defensive. I realize it’s been difficult having her on the bus with us.” War turned to look at me, elbows propped up on the bar.

  He had no fucking idea.

  “I want you to hear me out though. Tempest has a real good thing going on right now.” He threw the scarf back behind his shoulder and leaned back in his bar stool. “You’ve seen the press stuff that PR chick from Black Cat keeps emailing over?”

  I nodded.

  “’We’re Through’ is top ten on the Billboard. That’s fucking huge.” War pulled his sunglasses off his head and tossed them on the bar before taking another swig of beer. “Bryan, I know you weren’t happy when I insisted that we take the deal that excluded Lace. But the fact that we’re about to hit it big just proves to me that it was the right decision.”

  Deep down, I had to agree. But if it had been up to me, I would have left that deal on the table. I never would have left her behind. “Then why are you pushing so hard to get her to perform with us?”

  “Same reason I wanted her to come out with us on the road when we were with RCA. Visibility. Exposure. You heard her today. She’s the shit. All it’s gonna take is the right person to hear. She has the potential to be a bigger deal than that British chick who came out of nowhere last year and won a Grammy.” He stared at me his eyes narrowed. “Lace doesn’t know what’s good for her. If left up to her, she makes piss poor decisions like hooking up with a guy like Martin. If it weren’t for that she’d probably already be a big star.”

  “War,” I said low, swiping a thumb across the condensation on my glass. “Did you ever stop to think maybe that isn’t what she wants? This lifestyle, being in the business, it’s hard. It’s not for everyone. She’s really into fashion. She could still go back to school.”

  “Bullshit.” He snorted. “That’d be a fucking waste.” He slammed his beer down so hard the glass clattered on the granite surface of the bar. “Lace is going to be up on that stage in Atlanta. Rolling Stone is coming to do a feature on us and it’s the perfect opportunity for her. And I want you to back me up on this. With the band and with her. You’re way too soft on her. Always have been.” War clapped me on the back as though that would soften his words. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I love that bitch, you know I do.”

  Yeah I knew. Though I was beginning to think more and more not enough and not the way she deserved. I scrubbed a hand over my head. I felt stretched to the snapping point just like back then.

  2 years ago

  “What’s up?” War jogged up to me on the city sidewalk.

  “Nothing much,” I replied, keeping my hands in my jacket pockets. I wasn’t up to our usual fist bump.

  “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

  I shook my head. I’d heard him alright, but I didn’t feel like talking. Not to War, not right now, not so soon after the beach. I just wanted to get home and try to figure out what I was going to do. It’d only been a couple of days since I’d had Lace’s tongue in my mouth, and I was torn between the two of them and the guilt was eating me up alive.

  “I wanted to tell you Dizzy’s girlfriend came through. We got the gig at Lakeside.”

  “Cool,” I replied with less enthusiasm than the news warranted. Lakeside was a huge deal. Lots of industry types hung out looking for the next big thing, ever since the Dirt Dogs had been discovered there.

  “You don’t sound too excited.”

  I shrugged.

  “Girl problems?”

  I froze.

  “Don’t I know it,” War continued on as if I’d answered in the affirmative. “Lace’s got me all tied up in fucking knots.” He laughed and pushed my shoulder. “I mean I wish she’d let me tie her up.”

  I let out an uneven breath, and tried to zone out of the conversation. Dizzy was right. Keeping my feelings for Lace hidden was not a viable long term plan.

  “I’ve never known a girl like her. Hot as shit. She’s one in a million, man.”

  I nodded. That was Lace all right.

  “You know, bitches been dropping their panties for me since middle school,” War bragged, voice lowering to a confidential level as we reached the bus stop and sat down on the bench. “But with her, when it really matters, it’s like she’s got ‘em super glued on.”

  Ok that was it. Now I wanted him to shut the fuck up.

  “Eighteen months we’ve been an exclusive deal and I still haven’t convinced her to go all the way.”

  My eyes widened.

  “I know, man.” War snorted. “I must have the worst case of blue balls ever.” He pulled a hand through his long hair. “To put up with that, I must love her, right?”

  My chest burned.

  “Getting ready to remedy the situation. I’ve got a plan to make her first time special, you know, romantic and all that shit. She knows I’ve got a hotel room reserved for after prom. You think you could talk Dizzy into covering for her with their uncle so she can be out all night?”

  “Bryan. Hey,” War called. “You really spaced out on me. Don’t worry so much. Everything’s always gonna be cool with you and me. Bros before hoes, right?” He glanced at his cell display. “Speaking of hoes, it’s been a couple of hours. I better go find mine. Hope, I’ve given her enough time to cool off.”

  13

  All by myself in the front lounge of the bus, I stared out the window, watching the snowflakes drift down one after another adding to the already foot and a half high berms along I-95. We were headed south on our way to the Atlanta show. War was passed out in the back. He’d been like that since I finally returned late last night
. He’d made me so mad earlier that I’d skipped the show, wandered around Philly until it got dark, and then camped out in a local book store thumbing through fashion magazines until they closed.

  It was nearing dawn and I still hadn’t slept any. I rested my head in my hands. The Appalachian pines stood along the roadside, lonely sentinels, tall and dark except for their adornment of white. A similar winter wonderland scene had been the picture on the front of our prom invitations. Prom and Bryan had been on my mind nonstop since our conversation in the elevator.

  2 years ago

  I set the vellum prom invitation down on my comforter and crossed to the dresser, looking at myself in the mirror. I was in love with this dress. So what if it didn’t fit the winter theme. It was a genuine vintage sixties dress with spaghetti straps, a straight bodice, and a black lace skirt over a blush pink under layer. I’d added a black silk ribbon around my neck instead of jewelry and let my hair cascade long and straight around my bare shoulders.

  I practiced a smile. I needed the practice, since I hadn’t been doing much smiling lately. Not since I’d told Bryan how I felt. Not since that kiss on the beach. Not since I’d bared my soul to him in that ballad.

  I’d been so naïve, thinking that the kiss had been special, that it had meant something. What it’d meant was that Bryan was a guy like any other, taking what was thrown at him, and not the honor bound knight on a white charger that I’d made him out to be since I was a little.

  Bryan didn’t want my love or the action. He hadn’t come around since then and he didn’t spend any time with me at all unless it was with the band or in a group setting.

  Any remaining doubts as to where we stood were eliminated when I came out of class a few days later, following my usual shortcut across the quadrangle, and saw him with his tongue down Misty Rivera’s throat. Misty Rivera was one of the biggest sluts in the school.