Irresistible Refrain t-1

by Michelle Mankin

  No more of this bullshit. I needed to let go of the past and wipe the slate clean. And I needed to have a plan for my future. It was up to me and me alone to be the woman I’d once believed in, a woman who despite her shitty mother and lack of a father was strong and capable of doing whatever she set her mind to do. Sure, I’d made mistakes, a shit load of them. I had a lot of owning up to do. But I was ready to make amends. Whether or not the people I’d hurt forgave me was up to them.

  Though I knew the hole I’d dug for myself was a deep one, I no longer felt overwhelmed by hopelessness. Getting off the drugs was the first step on the ladder to getting out of that hell. I could see light up there at the top, and that’s where I wanted to go.

  I took in a deep calming breath. Seven days. No drugs. A huge accomplishment. It’d seemed like forever since I’d been this clear headed. The first couple of days in rehab had been easy though compared to the last few. The more the methadone dose had been lowered the edgier I became. Sawbones had suggested I start sketching again, but so far, the task had just been an exercise in frustration.

  A shadow suddenly fell over me, blocking out the sun. “Hey, Bridget.” I knew who it was without turning around. She had become my constant companion since that first group session. No matter what I tried to do to dissuade her, there was no shaking the irrepressible girl.

  “Whatcha doing?” Bridget picked up a ball of paper from the discard pile. “Wow!” she exclaimed after un-crumpling it. “This is really good”

  I glanced over at the drawing. The evening gown. The one that reminded me of the dress I’d worn to prom. “It’s ok.” I shrugged. “But the hemline’s not right.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” Bridget asked sitting down beside me on the concrete bench.

  I reminded myself to be patient. Though she was a bit hyperactive and talked my ear off. She had a good heart. And she’d been extremely supportive of me, even holding a cool washcloth to my head last night when the withdrawal shakes had woken me up. “The hem should probably have a decorative border, maybe eyelet lace. I don’t know.”

  Bridget studied the drawing, smoothing it out across her thin tan legs. “I think you’re right. Like that stuff they wore under their dresses in the late fifties. A really cool lime sherbet color might work.”

  Actually that would look really great. I reached under the bench and pulled out my colored pencils. I shaded in the color while Bridget watched.

  “I told you,” Bridget said with a satisfied nod when I was finished.

  I gazed at the golden tanned platinum blonde. I’d been ready to dismiss her idea out of hand. In fact I’d been trying to keep her at arm’s length, as I did with practically everyone else, especially women. Yeah, yeah, I had issues. “You’re into fashion?” I queried.

  “Duh, isn’t everyone?” A mischievous grin spread across her face. “I’ve got a stash of In Style magazines in my room. Wanna see?”

  “Sure.” I raised my brows, surprised to uncover a rebellious streak in Bridget. I grabbed my stuff and followed her back inside. The Second Chances’ facility was completely closed off from the outside world. No phone. No television. No internet. No contraband magazines.

  I sat on the bed beside her while I thumbed through the stack. “These are brand new,” I exclaimed. “How’d you manage that?”

  Bridget smiled, two dimples flashing above a mouth of pearly white teeth. “I have all the latest gossip magazines, too.” Apparently, she had leveraged one of the security guards, who had a crush on her. I was just happy to have something to read that wasn’t a dusty old Harlequin novel. Suddenly, I went completely still, my hand resting on his face. Rolling Stone Magazine. “Bigger and Badder than BS” was the headline.

  Vaguely, I realized that Bridget had stopped talking. The girl glanced back and forth between the magazine cover and my pale face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I swallowed. No. Not quite, though he still haunted my dreams.

  “You know those guys?”

  I nodded.

  “Holy shit!”

  “Don’t get all starry eyed. It’s no big deal. I grew up with them in Seattle that’s all.”

  Bridget looked at me with skepticism, taking the magazine and flipping it open to the article. “There’s a picture of you in here.”

  I glanced over. Sure enough. It was from the performance in Atlanta. I tried to close the magazine.

  Bridget stopped me, her finger on the text, her blue eyes wide. “You and War?” she asked.

  “Not anymore.” I shook my head.

  “Men are bastards, huh?” Bridget closed it up, crossed her legs, and leaned closer. “Lace, come on. You can tell me. After all, I’m your best friend.”

  I stared into the sparkly, but sincere eyes of the woman beside me. Was she? She was definitely the only one.

  Bridget held my gaze, nodding as if she could read my thoughts. “You’re prickly, but I like you. I was there when you told your story, remember? You had a crappy childhood, but I’ve never once heard you use it as an excuse. That’s unusual. There’s an inner strength in you. A resolve. You’re gonna make it, Lace Lowell. You’re a winner and I like to be on a winning team.”

  My eyes stung from the unexpected praise. I was getting way too sappy in here. “Thanks,” I could hear the thick emotion in my voice. “I don’t really see myself that way. But going back to drugs is not an option for me. They cost me everything that I cared about.” I vividly remembered the disappointment in Bryan’s eyes when he’d seen my tracked up arms.

  I sighed heavily.

  Bridget patted my hand. “It gets easier.” Her expression sobered, suddenly looking much older than her age. “At least it does in here.” Worry darkened her eyes. “Five more days till I’m done. How much longer for you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  Bridget mock cringed. “If you ever need anything when you get out, you call me. Promise.”

  “I promise.” I smiled. “Teammate.”

  31

  I nodded to Vandergriff aka the ‘Buzz Buster’ as King had dubbed him. Our band’s new enforcer was built like the Incredible Hulk, his muscles bulging beneath his cheap polyester suit. We had to check in with the guy twice a day, morning and night. He’d traveled with us on the twenty-eight hour bus ride from Miami to Minneapolis and on the four hour flight up to Vancouver, the last stop on the tour. His methods weren’t pleasant, but he’d been successful. Not that I was giving him any trouble. I was just biding my time, holding it together, until I could talk to Lace. The only one of us he hadn’t gotten into line yet was War.

  I searched the backstage area, but there was no sign of him. I hoped our lead singer wouldn’t screw up this final concert, but I had an awful feeling that he would. Warren and I hadn’t spoken a word to each other since Miami. Actually, he pretty much wasn’t on speaking terms with anyone in the group. The Morris betrayal had opened up a rift between him and the other guys too. It wasn’t something that would be easily forgotten or forgiven. Not that War was much interested in bridging the gap. If anything, he’d gotten more temperamental, more demanding, and more unpredictable.

  Tempest had barely taken the stage on time in Minneapolis because of him. He’d locked himself in a room backstage with a couple of fan girls the roadies had pulled from the audience. Apparently, the usual groupies wouldn’t do for His Highness anymore.

  “When was the last time you saw him?” Dizzy asked me as he tightened the strings on his Gibson.

  “Not since we landed and he made that big scene about the lukewarm beer in first class.”

  “King’s right. The dude’s got it bad.”

  “What?” I rolled my shoulders.

  “LSD.”

  “Shit. You’re kiddin’ me.”

  Dizzy barked out a laugh. “LSD. Lead singer’s disease, man. War’s got a real bad case.”

  Speaking of the diseased monster, he had finally arrived. War was obviously wasted. His head was slumped to his ches
t, his arms were draped around two women, and his legs wobbled under him like limp noodles.

  I glanced over to see if Vandergriff had noticed. Sure enough, Buzz Buster was already heading straight toward him with a dark look on his face. He dismissed the two girls and had grabbed War as he started to fall forward. War lifted his head, his lips twitching right before he blew chunks all over Buzz Buster’s shiny black dress shoes.

  “Bullet. Dizzy,” Buzz Buster cursed. “Come help me with this asshole.”

  “We’re screwed,” Dizzy mumbled as we hurried over. “We’ve only got thirty minutes before we’re on.”

  “I’m fine,” War insisted, rocking back on his heels. He put his hand on his hip but his attempt to appear belligerent was sabotaged by the fact that he almost fell over again. “Get me my shades!” he yelled at one of the roadies while pulling his black bandana lower over his beer goggled eyes.

  “I don’t believe you, man.” I shook my head.

  “Yeah, well.” War’s gaze cut to me, his stare surprisingly steady considering the intensity of the alcohol reek emanating from him. “I can’t believe you either, asshole.”

  We glared at each other. The undercurrent of restrained violence between us saddened me more than I was willing to admit. Numbly, I nodded when Buzz Buster ordered me to keep an eye on War while he and Dizzy went to round up some Red Bull.

  I drug a frustrated hand through my hair. The tour, the group, my friendships, my life, everything was going to hell. Maybe I should try to salvage some of it. “Listen,” I told War, taking a step closer. “I’m sorry. Sorry about busting you in the jaw. Sorry about you and Lace. I know how you must feel.”

  “You don’t know anything,” War growled.

  “I know what a low tolerance you have for rejection. I was there when your father…”

  “Shut up!” War’s shouted eyes narrowed. “I don’t care about that bastard and I don’t give a fuck about that bitch Lace, either.” He spat the words out, a cruel grin twisting his lips. “The only reason I was ever with her was because I enjoyed watching what it did to you.” It appeared to amuse him to see how much his words affected me. “It used to be nice having you trail around after me like a puppy, always ready to do my bidding. But it got old after a while.” He waved his hand in the air. “In fact, all this shit’s gotten old.”

  Buzz Buster returned and thrust a Red Bull into War’s hand. “Drink up,” he ordered. “And keep it down.”

  War took a long swig and wipes his mouth. “Listen all,” he projected, loudly enough that everyone backstage turned in our direction. “I have a special announcement to make.” He pointed at me. “I’m not working with this mother fucker anymore. I’m quitting after tonight’s show.” He stumbled to the edge of the stage, brushing past Dizzy. “Now let’s get this shit over with.”

  I didn’t move. Shock had frozen my feet in place.

  32

  I stood in the foyer, staring out the glass doors at the circular driveway, waiting for Dizzy to arrive, equal parts trepidation and excitement. I was ready as hell to get out of this place, to see my brother, to watch television, to surf the web, and to wear something besides a Second Chances’ track suit. But I was really worried how I’d handle things out there in the real world…on my own.

  After paying the rehab bill, I still had ten thousand left from the signing bonus that Black Cat had given me. But I knew I wasn’t going to keep it. I was planning to give that back and work out some kind of repayment plan for what I’d already spent. I had taken that money under false pretenses. And being a cheat and a liar didn’t sit well with me anymore. Especially not with the person I had set my mind on becoming.

  A dark blue sedan with tinted windows pulled up in front of the building. Dizzy jumped out of drivers’ side and jogged around the front of it. I threw open the front doors and dropped my bag just as he lifted me up and twirled me around in a circle.

  “Lace,” he said, hugging me so enthusiastically that I could barely breathe.

  “Diz,” I wheezed. “Too tight.”

  “Sorry.” He loosened his grip and leaned back to look at me. I saw a look of relief pass through those eyes so similar to my own. “You look fantastic, but how are you feeling?”

  “It’s not like I had a terminal disease,” I grumbled, though I guess I probably had. Anyway, I knew what he meant. Looking in the mirror this morning I’d seen that my skin and hair had regained their previous luster, my cheeks were attractively fuller, my eyes sparkled with awareness, and the jeans and t-shirt that had been loose when I checked in was actually a little snug now. Getting your life in order and eating three meals a day instead of shooting up will do that to you. “Where’d you get the car?”

  “At the airport. We’re staying there tonight. I’ve got us an early flight out in the morning. I can’t believe they wouldn’t discharge you until five.”

  “Yeah, well, Sawbones is a stickler for doing things by the book.” In response to his questioning look, I explained. “He’s the psychiatrist who runs the facility. I arrived in the evening twenty-one days ago so that’s when I get released.”

  I bent down to get my bag when movement near the car caught my eye. As I straightened I saw him. He was leaning back against the hood of the sedan. His black shirt sleeves were rolled up, his arms folded over his chest, and his long legs were spread out in front of him. He was the last person I expected to see, but a welcome sight nonetheless. When he hadn’t gotten in touch with me before I’d been admitted, I’d assumed he’d finally written me off, just like everybody else.

  His lips formed a seductive grin. “Lace,” he drawled in that special way of his, and the world tilted a little beneath my feet.

  “Bryan,” I managed to reply even though my voice was noticeably breathy.

  For several moments he held my gaze. Something in my eyes must have given me away because he sauntered toward me all swagger and verve.

  I held onto the pretense of being unaffected by him until he leaned in and the warmth from his breath tickled my ear. “You look gorgeous.”

  My stomach fluttered. “I’m surprised to see you here,” I admitted, trying to recover my equilibrium, always a struggle around him. “You didn’t return any of my phone calls. I thought you’d given up on me.”

  “I thought the same about you.” He leaned back to looked at me, his tone filled with regret. “I’m sorry. I only overheard part of your conversation with War at the hospital. I bailed when you said you loved him. I understand from Dizzy that I should have stuck around for the rest. I wish I had called you. It’s been hell waiting.”

  “Hey, are you guys gonna stand out here all day and stare at each other?” Dizzy raised an amused brow. “Or are you ready to go?”

  I pursed my lips.

  Bryan just laughed.

  Mesmerized by the crinkles around his eyes, I just stood there, blinking up at him. It’d been a long time since I’d seen him look so happy, or that my own heart had felt so light. But then again Bryan always could make me feel that way.

  Reluctantly, I released my fingers from his arm and climbed into the passenger seat. There was so much more I wanted to ask him. So much I wanted to believe his presence here meant. The chain from his belt loop jingled as he slid into the back. Our eyes met in the mirror. A heavy expectant vibe zapped across the space between us.

  Was this finally going to be the beginning for us?

  During the thirty minute drive to the airport, I felt Bryan’s heated gaze on me. My body prickled with awareness. To keep my mind off the predatory male lounging in the backseat, I tried to make small talk with Dizzy. My jaw dropped when he told me about War quitting the band.

  “You’re kidding?” I shook my head, but I wasn’t going to feel guilty. That’s a burden the old Lace would’ve taken on. What War did was his own damn business. “What are you guys going to do?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” Bryan answered without a pause as if they had this rehearsed. “Diz and I were h
oping you would consider…”

  “No.” I thought it best to put the cabash on that idea right away. “I’ve decided to leave that part of my life behind.”

  “Why?” my brother asked his brow knitted together in confusion. “You’re so good at it, Lace.”

  “And you have a contract with Black Cat,” Bryan added.

  “I did a lot of thinking about it these past three weeks. That kind of lifestyle is too much of a temptation for an addictive personality like mine. Besides, I realized that being part of a group was what I really loved most about music, and I can get that in other ways. The singing, going solo, that was War’s idea. It’s not really what I want. I’ve decided to go back to school. Study fashion design. I’ve started sketching again.” I shrugged. “It makes me happy.”

  Both guys were silent as that blitz of information settled. As Dizzy steered the sedan through the tollbooth, Bryan broke the silence. “Whatever you want to do, Lace, I know you’ll be good at it.”

  A surge of emotion clogged my throat. His approval meant that much to me. I gave him a long look that said I-want-to-climb-into-the-back-seat-with-you-and-lick-your-neck. I think he got it because he returned my look and one up’ed me with a sexy smile.

  We dropped the rental off and took the shuttle back to the airport. After we checked into the Hyatt Regency inside the terminal, Dizzy suggested we grab a bite to eat together at the steakhouse. I eagerly nodded my agreement. The cafeteria in rehab had been ok, but I was ready for some real food. Dizzy went on ahead to get us a table.

  The instant we were alone, Bryan grabbed my arm. His warm calloused fingertips traced a path to my palm that made me shiver. “Eat fast,” he said softly, his piercing grey green eyes glittering intently into mine. “You’re coming to my room after. There are things to be said that can’t wait.”