by Rachael Wade
I was in my element, and blimey, did I bloody miss it.
With an encouraging holler from Whitney, I quickly settled on a mellow cover of David Guetta’s “Titanium,” figuring it’d be a good way to slow the momentum down after “Paint it Black.” And there was something about this song, something that cut right through me and tore me open right there on the stage, every time. I felt like everyone in the room could see my soul, like it was wide open and on display for every greedy eye in the crowd.
I began to play, and little by little, the noise began to dwindle. I only chanced a peek out into the crowd once before I shut my eyes, because honestly, as soon as my fingers started to move and my voice followed, the faces in the crowd were drowned out. Visible, but seemingly invisible. It was just me and the music, just the way I liked it. No one could touch us in our little bubble, and we set the pace. No rules, no heartbreak.
Just a pure cleansing of the soul.
My voice was quiet at first, caressing the mic with a light brush of my lips.
“Turn up the volume, Montgomery!” Whitney shouted. “Louder!”
I found her through relaxed, lazy lids, smirking and sending her a wink. She continued spurring me on and I finally raised my voice as I began the next verse, slowly increasing the power until I was belting the chorus and owning the crowd. I didn’t have to look out at the faces to know I was in control.
They were quiet—so still that the clinking of glasses being served at the bar could be heard over their silence.
I let my eyes drift shut as I wrapped myself comfortably in the bubble with my music, missing The Hellions and what it felt like to be on stage with them back home, but for now, this would do.
For a split second, I glanced over to where Whitney was standing, her energy calling to me, even as I found myself completely immersed in my own little zone. Her twinkling greens and explosive smile smacked into me, her fingers flitting a hello, overflowing with giddiness.
I shut my eyes.
Yeah, this would definitely do.
Chapter 6
Soggy Crumpets
I woke with a groan, my nostrils assaulted with the delicious smell of eggs and bacon as I pulled myself up from Emma’s couch. Oh dear God, did I want eggs and bacon. My mind sifted through the memories of last night. When we made it back to Emma’s place, we exchanged a few sloppy hugs and an awkward ‘goodnight’. I quickly dove onto the couch, while Whitney hurried into Emma’s bedroom. The temptation to kiss her had been all too real, so I made it a point to crash on the sofa the second we stumbled in through the front door. I couldn’t bring myself to make a move on her.
Not that I didn’t think about inviting her to sleep on the couch with me.
My body and mind really liked that idea. But I was here to help her out, not take advantage of the situation.“Hey,” I said, my voice thick and raspy from our night out.
“Hey Super Star,” Whitney chimed, her voice lively and much more enthusiastic than mine. I dragged my feet into the kitchen and went straight for the coffee, my stomach grumbling with intense hunger when I reached over the stove and caught a better whiff of the bacon.
“Hungry?” she asked with a smile, stirring the scrambled eggs with a spatula.
“Hhhhmmmm.”
She laughed. “I take it that’s a yes?”
“Hhhhmmmm.”
She piled some food onto a plate for me and then handed me a glass of water and some aspirin. “I have to get dressed for work. Can you manage from here? Emma’s already left for work.”
That news made me mildly alert. “She did?”
“She did. Thank God, there was no need for me to drag her out of bed this morning. I think this means she’s on the mend!”
“Let’s hope so.”
“You sure the bus will get you home on time for your shift this afternoon?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”
“Well, I am worried. I hate that I can’t give you a lift today. But I’m going to have to drive straight to the diner when I get off from the hotel tonight. No time to come home. I’ll have to change there.”
“Really, it’s fine. You do what you gotta do. I’m going to talk to Jackson today about his friend Jeff’s old truck. He’s looking to get rid of it, I guess.”
“Ew.” Her nose scrunched up as she started for the hallway. “Anything Jeff owned is bound to be a disaster waiting to happen. Don’t let him swindle you.”
“Nah, I won’t.” I waved her off, encouraging her to go get dressed, and let my eyes follow her as she retreated down the hallway. My mind flashed back to the night before, remembering her toned legs in those teeny tiny ripped denim shorts, her perky tits, and the bare sliver of her midriff that glistened with sweat as she danced. I tried to restrain my morning wood with a long sip of coffee.
She disappeared into the bathroom and I savored my home-cooked breakfast before gulping down an aspirin with the water Whitney had given me. I was just about finished washing dishes by the time she emerged from the bathroom, all clean and dressed for work in her maid uniform. The naughty skirt was back today.
Nice.
“I had a lot of fun last night,” she said, picking her keys up from the counter. “We should do it again.” Fun? Fun was an understatement. Something shifted in Carter-and-Whitney Land last night, that was for sure. My mind still felt dazed from the time we’d spent together, and I hoped she felt the same. My attraction to this girl was far outreaching the physical, now. She’d opened me up, zapped me with energy, and filled me with my greatest love.
Music.
“Oh, sure. Yeah, fun times.” The last glass I’d been washing dropped into the soapy sink with a thud. I swiped my bottom lip with my thumb and adjusted my glasses. “I mean, that would be great.”
She eyed the glass I’d dropped with a sly smile. “I kept hugging you last night, didn’t I?”
“There might have been some excessive hugging before you went to bed, yes.” I nodded heavily and took another long sip of coffee.
“Ah, yes. I’m a lover when I’m drunk. Hell, I almost crawled onto that couch with you so you could hold me all night. Probably wouldn’t have been a good idea. I sleep naked.”
A choke bubbled up in my throat and I spat my coffee out.
“You okay there, Montgomery?” Whitey laughed, moving to pat me on the back. She handed me a napkin.
I set the mug down and wiped at my shirt. “You’re right. That would have been a bad, bad idea.”
Whitney’s laugh lingered as she leaned up on tiptoes to kiss my cheek. The feel of her lips sent me still. “Maybe not so bad,” she whispered against my ear. And just like that, she was gone. Flitting out the door like the little French maid tease she was. I gathered my wits, which had been strewn helplessly across the floor, and walked to the bathroom, where my bag of extra clothes and toothbrush awaited. It was my turn to wash up and change before catching the bus back to my place. My phone was bombarded with texts from Kate and Dean, but I was in no mood to elaborate on why I’d been so out of touch with my best friends lately. My pensive mood had me chewing over my night with Whitney and now, how to broach the work subject with Jackson. So, once again, I ignored Kate and Dean’s texts and shoved my phone deep into my jeans pocket.
When I stepped off the bus near the marina, I strolled straight for Jackson’s sailboat instead of heading home. The sounds of a heated argument could be heard from outside the cabin door. I hesitated before delivering a solid knock.
The door swung wide open, but it wasn’t Jackson standing there to greet me.
“Yes?” a snippy voice hit me, which came from a tall, leggy brunette wearing quite possibly the shortest shorts I’d ever seen, and hot pink stiletto sandals with little flashy rhinestone thingies on them.
God Bless America.
“Uh…” I stammered, glancing back and counting the neighboring boats, making sure I had the right one. One more look at the brunette, though, and I knew I did. I’d seen this gir
l before. I’d seen a lot more of her, in fact. She was one of the strippers Jackson had brought to my housewarming party.
“Well?” she asked, more annoyed this time.
“Natasha, don’t go answering my damn door,” Jackson huffed, coming up behind her. His eyes widened when he saw me, his nervous gaze dancing between me and his lady friend. Oh, damn, this couldn’t be good.
“Carter,” he said, pulling the door open wider. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, his entire countenance worn and weary. “It’s not what you think. Natasha, you need to leave.”
The brunette rolled her eyes and scowled at him. “Right. You get what you want, and then you kick me out.” She looked to me, eyeing me up and down. “That’s Jackson Taylor, for you.” Letting her sunglasses drop from her head to her nose, she tipped her chin up in a show of superiority and moved to wiggle past me and out the cabin door. “Don’t make me come back here, Jackson,” she barked over her shoulder. Then she was gone, leaving me with a very guilty- looking Jackson.
My fingers found my bottom lip as I fought to bite the thing to death. Should I say something or should I not say something? I so didn’t want to step in any more of Jackson and Emma’s business, but bloody hell, I’d been watching Emma lick her wounds since Jackson’s screw-up with Casey, and now here he was, with another chick. A stripper he worked with, for that matter.
“Man,” I released an uncomfortable breath, “please tell me you didn’t.”
“I said it’s not what you think. Just business,” Jackson snapped irritably, holding the door open to let me in. I stepped inside and decided to let it go, and instead focus on what I came here to do.
“Fine. So about this whole work situation…we need to talk.”
“Okay, what’s up?” Jackson instantly looked relieved when I didn’t badger him any further about his brunette visitor, and turned curious at the mention of work.
Clearing my throat, I pulled at my shirt collar and summoned the words Whitney armed me with last night. She was right. I needed the money, and if Jackson was a real friend, which I didn’t doubt he was, then he’d understand, no matter how pissed he’d be about my decision. “It’s nothing personal, man, but I’m going to accept the extra hours at the shop. My dad’s been helping me out since I moved out here, and I just can’t take his help anymore. I hope you understand.”
A flicker of disappointment passed over his face, but he responded with a resigned sigh. “That’s okay, dude. I understand.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry I put you on the spot like that…and I’m sorry I tried to blame you. This isn’t your problem.”
“It isn’t?” I stared blankly at him, shocked that he was taking this so well. Maybe this whole being assertive thing worked, after all.
“Of course not,” he said, “I was just stressed. But I found a way to borrow some more money. It should get me by for a little while longer.” He tossed a distracted glance past me, toward the cabin door, his gaze lingering for a second before he snapped out of it. “So go for it, man. Take the hours. We’re cool.” He reached out to clap hands with me, leaning in to pat me on the back.
Curiosity prompted me to ask him where he’d borrowed the money from and what kind of business he needed to square away with Natasha, but I wisely decided to leave it all alone, opting for easy, less intrusive conversation instead. “Okay, well…I’m glad to hear it. I can’t stay, I have to get home and get some stuff done before my shift this afternoon, I just wanted to swing by and settle all that first.”
“No worries. I work at the club tonight. I’ll be at the shop tomorrow, so see you then.”
“Sounds good.” I turned to leave, feeling instant relief for how this thing had played out—minus the visitor I’d found in Jackson’s cabin—but was stopped when I opened the door.
“Nothing happened with me and Natasha, Carter.”
“Your business, man.”
“No,” Jackson’s voice turned hard, “I mean it.” He walked forward to look me straight in the eyes. “Nothing at all. Not for a while, anyway. Since Emma told me how she feels, I’ve…I’m not screwing around, okay? I don’t want anyone else.”
“I hear ya, man. It’s cool.”
He held my gaze for a moment, as if studying me to make sure I believed him. I didn’t give him a second longer to analyze, stepping out of the cabin and into the hot, muggy morning air. Regardless of how things looked when I showed up at his place, and despite Natasha’s questionable visit, I actually believed him. But whether I believed him or not meant nothing. Jackson had to figure it out for himself and deal with whatever he did—or didn’t do—with his busty co-worker.
The morning rolled right along while I ran a load of laundry, nabbed a shower, and knocked out a few more notes for the song I’d been working on. Just as I’d finished getting dressed for work, my cell phone screamed from the dresser, this time relentless in its effort to get my attention. I didn’t need to glance at the caller ID to know who it was.
“Hi Dean,” I drawled, finally ready to talk. Kate wasn’t nearly as obnoxious with her nonstop phone calls. She knew when to give it a rest.
“The only acceptable excuse you’d have for neglecting to answer my calls is that Kate Middleton herself has stolen you away and ditched William for you.”
“I haven’t been ignoring you, dude. I’ve just been busy.” That was partly the truth. I really had been busy. The other part, which was hard for me to explain to Dean without hurting his feelings, was that I didn’t feel like talking to anyone from back home, not even him. It really wasn’t personal, I just needed to move on. Needed some distance from all reminders of Seattle.
“Busy? Busy my arse! You know what kind of excuse that is? A rubbish one, that’s what. This whole you-being-in-Florida-and-not-calling-me-back thing is nothing but soggy crumpets, do you hear me?”
I suppressed a groan, tipping my head back and looking up to the ceiling. “Well I’m talking to you now. So how’s it going? How’s Crystal? Everything okay on the homefront?” I cringed a bit as I called Seattle the homefront. I had better get damned used to Sanibel Island being the homefront now, because that’s what it was, and there was no changing it any time soon.
“Well, aside from The Hellions dying a miserable death when you moved away, Crystal being clobbered with the worst flu virus known to man, and Kate sinking in a puddle of despair because you won’t talk to her, everything’s just peachy, chap.”
“Have I told you lately that you’re thoroughly dramatic?”
“Ha! Dramatic-schmamatic. Wellllp, how’s the Sunshine State? Have you done any para-whaling?”
“Parasailing, Dean, it’s called parasailing, and no, you couldn’t catch me doing that for all the tea in the world. I’d break my arse in less than 10 seconds.”
“Who’s the dramatic one now, my friend?”
“Sorry to hear Crystal’s sick. How are the guys holding up? They still playing out?”
“Yeah, since you left they’ve been doing solo gigs where they can, but every club in town that knows us knows we used to come as a package, and that’s what they want. They won’t hire us any other way.”
Shit.
I should’ve known my decision to up and leave The Hellions would affect not just Dean, but the other guys in the band, too. What was done was done, though. “I had to get out of there, Dean.” I tried to sound earnest; I needed him to hear me out.
A small, quiet sigh sounded from his end and then his voice mimicked my serious tone. “I know, man, but did you have to go the way you did?”
“I’d been talking about moving away for a while, Dean. Since Kate and Ryan got engaged. I’d been thinking about it before then, even.”
“I get that, but you do realize that Kate isn’t the only one you walked out on, right?”
A wave of silence rolled between us.
“I’m more aware than you know,” I said quietly.
“Then what’s the deal, Carter? Th
is wasn’t all because of Kate.”
“No, I told you it wasn’t.”
“Well, have you found what you’re looking for?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“I get needing a change. Hell, I even get being in a rut and hoping to switch things up by doing something drastic, but this? This isn’t you, man. There’s nothing for you on that island.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that, know why? Because you sound completely fucking forlorn. I’ve been on the phone with you for less than five minutes, and I can hear it, dude. Going to Florida didn’t solve your problem, did it?”
“It might, okay? I need to give it a chance. I need some time.”
“Time from what? Kate? Ryan? The wedding’s back on, man. He fucked up but he loves her. He’s a good guy, you know that. And she loves him, and we’re going to fucking support that, so man up! What else do you need space from, huh? You need to find yourself or something? Well, do it here, where you’re happy. You love this city, man. This is your home.”
“Not right now, it isn’t.”
“You can pack up and leave any time you want.”
“You’re right, I can.”
“So what’s stopping you?”
“I can’t explain it, alright? I just need to be here.”
“Fine. I won’t badger you anymore. Just promise me one thing.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t wait too long. If you don’t wanna be there, don’t be there.”
Another stretch of silence lapsed between us as I took in his words. Was my homesickness really that obvious?
Dumb question. To Dean, of course it was. Nothing got past him, even though I hadn’t said a word.
“Carter?” he asked, urgent now.
“I promise.”
“Okay. Whew! Now that we have that settled, when do I get to visit? Now, it’s imperative that I fly first class, and when I arrive, I want the works. I want those towels that the maids shape like dolphins and other various sea creatures, a full mini bar in my room, and a full supply of sunblock. The kind made for sensitive skin. I can’t have rashes breaking out on this money-makin’ face.”
