by J. L. Paul
Back to the Top
JL Paul
Smashwords Edition Copyright 2013 JL Paul
All rights reserved worldwide.
No part of this ebook may be copied or sold or distributed without prior written permission -- if you have this file (or a printout) and didn't pay for it, you are depriving the author and publisher of their rightful royalties.
All characters in this book are entirely imaginary and any resemblance to persons living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental.
Republished 2013
One
“Okay, everyone, stay with your buddy and stick with your group,” I called to the forty children peering into the tanks, smearing the glass as they ogled the fish. Sighing, I sent out a silent apology to the fish swimming behind the decorative grasses and reefs to hide from the prying eyes.
After assigning the chaperones to their groups, I nodded at the guides and took charge of my own group as we ventured further into the aquarium.
Wandering through each wing, I half-listened to the guide as I kept a close eye on my charges, grateful that things seemed to be going smoothly. I could only hope that the rest of the children were behaving as well.
Once we reached the sea turtle exhibit, the atmosphere became charged. Recently, we’d watched Disney movies about life under the water and sea turtles instantly became a classroom favorite.
“Miss Bella,” a dark haired girl asked as she tugged on my t-shirt.
“Yes, Tessa?” I asked, squatting to smile at the little girl.
“Do turtles eat toes?” she asked, fright flickering in her big, brown eyes.
I blinked, slightly surprised at the question. “Um, no, I don’t believe that turtles eat toes. Why do you ask?”
Exhaling, tears flooding those big eyes, she pointed at her twin brother. “Because Tyler said that they did eat toes and if I didn’t give him my candy, he would let them out.”
A migraine poked at the inside of my head, taunting me, threatening to explode. Releasing a very long breath, I forced a smile as I gently took Tessa’s shoulder.
“Did you give Tyler your candy?”
She nodded, tears now cascading down her cheeks.
Another sigh and I stood, surveying the small group and finding Tyler, happily munching on gooey candy as he poked at the glass.
“Tyler,” I said in a firm tone.
Startled, he dropped the bag of candy, spilling the contents all over the floor. How either of them had managed to smuggle candy into the aquarium in the first place when they’d been told not to, was beyond me.
Seeing the brightly colored candies skittering across the floor, Tessa let out a wail that caused everyone in the vicinity to wince.
Squatting to hug her to my chest, I stroked her hair, hoping to quiet the sobs. “Shh, Tessa. We can get more candy later, okay? We’re not supposed to have it in the aquarium anyway.”
Sniffling, she pulled from my embrace to wipe her nose on her sleeve. “Promise?”
“Absolutely I do,” I said with a smile. She smiled in return and took my hand. Snatching Tyler’s hand with my other, I kept both of them close for the duration of the tour.
Toward the end, my group forgot all about the sea turtles when the guide stopped in front of several large tanks filled with seahorses. A collective ooh rippled through the children as they pushed their way closer, eager to get a better look at the fragile creatures.
While they stared, the guide explained a little about seahorses, although very few of the kids actually listened.
Once we were on our way to the lobby to meet up with the rest of the children, Tessa tugged on my arm.
“Miss Bella,” she asked, her face crinkled in thought. “Daddy seahorses have the babies?”
“Yes, they do,” I said.
“But my Mommy had me, not my Daddy.”
“That’s right.”
Frowning, she cocked her head. “Do you have a baby?”
“No, honey, I don’t,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t pursue the topic. It wasn’t something I liked to think about let alone discuss with a six year old.
“Are you married?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
“But you wear a ring like Mommy’s.”
I glanced at the large diamond on my left hand. “Well, I am engaged to be married. Do you know what that means?”
She shrugged, bored with the conversation already. Relieved, I released her hand to gather the other groups so I could do a head count. Once I double checked that everyone was accounted for, we loaded into the busses to head back to the Children’s Center.
Taking my seat at the back of the bus, I closed my eyes for a moment in an effort to stave off the headache that was sure to come. The day was almost over and I could return to my apartment and soak in the tub.
With a soft smile, I opened my eyes and browsed at the magazines Addy had provided for the adults to peruse during the hour long bus trip.
I rifled through the tabloids, frowning with distaste. I’d had my fill of those things years ago and hadn’t so much as looked at a headline – even while standing in a long line at the checkout counter.
I nearly knocked the entire pile off the seat when my eyes fell on the cover in the middle of the pile. It was Rock Weekly. And there, grinning that crooked grin that I’d loved so much, was Jake Johnson, posing with the rest of his band.
Checking to see if anyone was watching, I carefully picked up the magazine and read the tagline: Controlled Environment Rocks Back to the Top! Story on page 42.
Against my better judgment, I flipped through the pages, looking for the article. I knew better – knew that it would probably crush my heart to read it, but I couldn’t help myself.
Page forty-two sat open, a photo of Matt Wenslow and Ronnie Stone standing back to back, both holding guitars. On the opposite page were Nick Collins and Jake, posed the exact same way only with Nick holding a set of drum sticks.
My heart clenched as I studied Jake’s face. It was still so beautiful even though several new lines seemed to have appeared around his mouth and his blue eyes held traces of sadness.
Turning the page before I could cry, I found the article.
Controlled Environment claims to be heading straight to the top of the charts, as per their new CD ‘Back to the Top’, after a three year hiatus from the music scene. And they weren’t kidding. Since the release in early March, record sales have skyrocketed and ‘Back to the Top’ hit number one this week.
We sat down with Controlled Environment recently to find out what’s going on in their world and here’s what they had to say.
Rock Weekly: So, to what do you guys attribute the success of this new album?
Matt Wenslow: Definitely Jake’s writing. It’s more mature than what we’ve done in the past.
Ronnie Stone: I agree. I mean, we all contributed somehow but the songs are a little more grown up than what we’ve done in the past.
RW: What inspired these new improved, more mature songs?
Jake Johnson: I guess I just finally grew up.
Nick Collins: (laughs) It’s about time too, man.
RW: Did rehab have any influence over your music?
JJ: Maybe some, but not totally. I did do a lot of writing while I was there.
RW: Rumor has it that you three were going to move on without Jake at one time. Is there any truth to that?
NC: No, man. No way. We stick together no matter what. Jake’s our best friend. We couldn’t abandon him when he needed us the most.
RS: That’s right.
RW: So what’s the plan for Controlled Environment now?
NC: We’re going to wrap this little promo
tour up in Chicago and take a short break this summer before we launch a new tour this fall.
MW: We’re going to shoot a few videos before going out on tour and then hopefully, after that tour, hit the studio again.
RW: Wow, sounds like you plan to keep busy. With such a hefty schedule, doesn’t leave any of you much time for a social life.
RS: We keep Jake out of trouble that way.
RW: Jake, you have managed to keep out of trouble lately. Any special reason?
JJ: (laughs) My probation officer told me to keep my nose clean.
RW: Matt recently got married, I know. Any more weddings on the horizon?
NC: Matty always was the good boy!
MW: Ronnie’s engaged but hasn’t set a date yet. But that’s about it for now.
JJ: Yeah. I’m just riding the bachelor train for now. I can’t seem to find that right person to settle down with.
Slamming the magazine shut, I carelessly tossed it into the aisle, my mind so focused on the past that I’d forgotten I was presently on a bus with a large group of children.
Peering over the seat in front of me, Tessa blinked, her brown eyes wide. “Miss Bella, why did you throw that magazine?”
“It, um, slipped,” I lied, reaching for it.
But Tyler beat me to it. “Cool! Controlled Environment. I love them.”
“Aren’t you a little young to be listening to them?” I asked as I leaned over the seat back to pry the magazine from Tyler’s fingers.
“Nope. My older brother lets me listen to them all the time,” Tyler said, reaching for the magazine. I put it on top of the pile and sat in my seat. “Can I have that?”
“No. It belongs to someone else,” I said. “Sit down, please. You shouldn’t be leaning over the seat like that.”
“Mommy says they’re drug attics,” Tessa said, joining her brother in gawking at me.
“'Addicts' is the correct word and you shouldn’t say things like that,” I said as gently as I could.
When I finally got the children to turn around in their seats, I settled back, the magazine article swirling in my brain. Memories began to filter into my mind but I slammed that file shut and crammed it back into the filing cabinet inside my brain. I found a tame magazine that focused on recipes and home décor to occupy the rest of my trip.
Once we got back to the Center, I waited with the children until every parent had arrived to whisk them home. When they were all gone, I ran to my office to finish up a little paperwork, my head beginning to throb.
Staring at the computer screen, I was so tempted to look up a website and devour all the latest news, but I resisted. I just needed to complete my tasks and get home. I could find all the distractions I needed there.
When I closed my office door and headed out of the Center, I noticed the pile of magazines that Addy had left on a table. Without a second thought, I snatched the Rock Weekly and shoved it into my bag. I locked the Center and hurried to my car.
***
At home, I dropped my bag and the pile of mail I’d retrieved from the box on the tiny table near the door.
The second floor apartment wasn’t extremely large, but it was comfortable. The entry way had a beautiful chandelier that hung over polished ceramic tile. Kicking off my shoes, I padded over the plush, off white carpet in the living room to draw the blinds over the large window overlooking the tiny downtown area.
The place had been furnished when I’d moved in, as well as decorated, and I hadn’t gotten around to putting any personal touches on it besides a photo here and there. All the furniture was light with soft blue patterns. The coffee and end tables had glass tops as well as the television stand.
I entered the kitchen, suddenly very thirsty, and retrieved a clean glass from the cabinet. Filling it with water, I smiled at the small space. I wasn’t much of a cook and the kitchen suited me well. Small and functional, it was large enough for a round table and four chairs, appliances, and that was about it. The walls were painted a happy yellow that invited warmth when the morning sun streamed through the windows. Floral curtains matched the placemats giving it a feminine look.
The master bedroom I’d painted myself in a pastel blue that soothed me when I sat on my bed, working on a laptop at night. The bedspread was a plaid design with several shades of blue that matched the curtains and the throw rug.
The second bedroom I used as an office. It held a small desk, filing cabinet, and a futon, although I rarely had overnight guests.
Finishing my water, I ran to the bedroom to select a white, flowing skirt, perfect for the early May warmth, and a short sleeved green blouse that brought out the color of my eyes. After laying the outfit on my bed, I grabbed my cordless phone and dialed a number from memory.
“Hello, darling,” the deep voice cooed. “How was your day?”
“Long,” I groaned, picturing the smile on his lips. “Yours?”
“Not too bad,” he said. “How about if you meet me at Pierre’s in an hour for drinks and dinner?”
“Sounds heavenly,” I said as I grinned. “I was just about to shower. I’ll see you soon.”
“Can’t wait,” he said before ending the call.
Placing the phone on the counter, I skipped to the bathroom, eager to wash away the stressful day before meeting my fiancé for dinner.
Two
The doorman tipped his hat as he held open the glass door for me. Giving him a warm smile, I thanked him before stepping inside the dimly lit restaurant. I peeked into the bar as the soft, piano music floated to my ears, driving away any lingering tension.
Sitting at the polished bar, nursing a scotch while conversing with the bowtie-clad bartender, he sat, his broad shoulders evident even through the white dress shirt.
With another smile, I approached, my heels tapping out a rhythm on the tiled floor. I scooted onto the stool beside him, mindful of my skirt, and leaned close. He smelled of success – strong, masculine cologne reminding me of power and boardrooms mixed with the scent of cigars and brandy.
“Hello,” I whispered.
He turned to me, wide smile on his handsome face and pecked my cheek. “Good evening, darling. You look lovely tonight.”
“Thank you,” I said as the bartender stood nearby, waiting for my order.
But my date beat me to it. “She’ll have a white wine, please, nothing too sweet.”
With a nod, the bartender hurried away to fetch my drink.
That was Brad Stanich – powerful businessman who not only knew what he wanted, but what everyone else did, too.
“So, how was the field trip?” he asked, his dark eyes grazing my outfit, a glint of approval flashing on his face.
“Not too eventful,” I said. “The children behaved for the most part.”
“Wonderful,” he said, thanking the bartender for the wine glass he placed in front of me. I took a tiny sip. I still wasn’t much on alcohol.
“How about you?” I asked. “Anything eventful?”
“Well,” he said, settling on his stool. “It seems as if we’re acquiring another firm. I’m handling the merger.”
“Wow,” I said, toying with the stem of my glass. “You’ll have quite the firm before long.”
“Indeed,” he said, finishing his drink. As he motioned for another, I studied his lean frame. Nine years my senior, he still had the body of a young athlete and thick, dark hair that showed no signs of thinning.
We’d met late last year but had connected right away. Of course, my parents hadn’t been happy with me dating such an older man, but they’d dealt with it, happy to see me happy again.
When Brad proposed in the early spring, they’d had their doubts, but Brad, with his charm, had managed to convince them that he intended to take care of me.
Seth, on the other hand, had not approved at all. We’d had one of the worst arguments we’d ever had and hardly spoke anymore. It hurt like crazy, especially during family gatherings when he treated me politely as if I was someone h
e’d just met.
Perhaps he wasn’t quite over Jake, either.
I shuddered, my eyes growing wide.
I was over Jake. Period.
“Something wrong, darling?” Brad asked, turning concerned eyes my way.
“What?” I asked, returning to the present. “I’m sorry, my mind was wandering.”
“Oh?” he asked as a frown tugged at his lips.
Smiling, I placed a hand on his arm. “Just thinking about when you proposed and how lucky I am to have you.”
That drew his lips into a smile as he kissed my cheek. “I’m the lucky one, I believe.”
“We could argue this all night,” I said.
He chuckled. “I suppose. But, as I was saying, the senior partner at the firm we’re merging with has a nephew who is around our age. He and his wife are new in town and don’t really know anyone. George, the senior partner, managed to acquire four tickets for a show and asked if we’d like to escort Kevin and Jenny – perhaps show them around a little bit.”
“That sounds nice,” I said. “Is the show in town at the Community Theater?”
“No,” he said. “It’s in Chicago. What do you say?”
“Sure,” I said. “When is this show?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Great,” I said, wondering if I was getting myself into a night of stuffy people and boring musicals. “As long as it has nothing to do with children or fish, I’m in.”
Laughter accented the slight lines near his eyes. “Well, this band has been shrouded in controversy and the tickets are hard to get. I’m sure it’s not to our taste, but I didn’t want to offend George. Anyway, your parents like music so I’m sure you’ve probably heard of them.”
My stomach dropped to my feet. He had to be talking about someone else. It just wasn’t possible. Swallowing, I struggled to form a coherent sentence. “The band? Um, I mean, what’s the name of the band?”
“Controlled Environment,” he said, confirming my worst fears.
“Oh, okay,” I said, fighting my way through emotions that spiraled like a tornado. “They’re music isn’t bad.”
