Racing to Rhapsody: A Rhapsody Novel

by Selena Laurence

  “You two have to quit hiding out and go finish up,” she instructs.

  Carson stands and stretches. “Okay, duty calls. I’ll see you out there, Dez.”

  After he leaves I saunter to the prettiest thing in the room and grab her hips, lowering my mouth to the sensitive skin on her neck.

  “I like this outfit a lot,” I murmur as I nip and lick up and down the smooth column.

  She pushes at my chest halfheartedly. “Stop. We’re supposed to be working.”

  “I am working. Working at keeping my demanding boss happy and relaxed.” I kiss her temple and stroke up and down her hips, finding the hem of the tiny shorts and sliding both thumbs under the edges.

  She bats at my hands now and steps away. “Seriously, Dez.” She laughs. “You have to stop. You need to go sign some more stuff for people who pay stupid amounts of money to watch you in concert.”

  I reach out to touch the steel butterfly around her neck. “Okay, for now. But tonight you’re all mine.”

  “Promise.” She gives me a chaste peck on the cheek. “I have to put in an appearance at the Nelson’s Soda team reception, so meet me there? It’s at the hotel in the ballroom.”

  “Okay, see you there.”

  As I watch her walk away I know that it’s time for that talk. We’re in a good place, she’s been a lot more relaxed lately. Her dad’s been on vacation with his new Barbie doll for ten days, so he hasn’t been able to harass Shannon long distance. She’ll have a drink or two at the reception and get nice and primed, then I’ll spring it on her, let her know that not only do I want to keep seeing her back in L.A., but I want her to move in with me. We’ve been living together for weeks now, I can’t go back to sleeping alone. I want her in the middle of my house and my life. I want everything about Shannon, and I’m about to get it all.

  Shannon

  While Dez finishes the signing I go back to the hotel to do a few things for work before I have to go to the Nelson’s Soda reception. I don’t know if I’m actually glowing, but I feel like I am. That old song Walking on Sunshine pops into my head and I add a little bounce to my step as I go through the lobby and into the elevator. Having my father on an island off the coast of Spain somewhere for ten days is the best thing to happen to me in months. I’ve been able to do my job without worrying about pleasing him. Dez suggested again that I think about going to work for someone else and I have to admit that I’m considering it.

  I know that I’d take the risk that Dad would stop speaking to me, but I think it’s a risk I might have to embrace if I’m ever going to truly be free of him and my quest for his love. It’s still a scary idea—thinking about him cutting me out completely, but I’m adjusting to the possibility slowly.

  In my room I get my laptop out and start scanning through emails, deleting whatever I can and filing others. I touch the necklace Dez gave me as I work, running my fingers over and over the thin metal wings.

  When my phone vibrates I’m expecting it to be Dez telling me he’s done early, but instead I see my father’s name, and the slightly sick feeling I’m used to walking around with, that hasn’t been with me in ten days. comes slamming back.

  “Hi, Dad. Are you back from vacation?” I ask politely.

  “Still in Ibiza for a few more days,” he answers.

  “And how is it?”

  “Good, but I’ve got a problem at the office that I’m going to need your help with.”

  Dread fills me. What will it be now? A party to plan? Some flowers to buy? Or maybe a major deal to broker for free.

  “Okay. What is it?”

  He’s quiet for a moment and I think he must have gotten distracted, but then he’s back, and I know that he’s anything but distracted.

  “I made a mistake with Liam.” My heart nearly explodes out of my chest. “While I’ve been gone he took it upon himself to make several staffing changes without informing me. He also dumped my oldest client without so much as a discussion.”

  “Cara Lucerne?” I ask, thinking of the iconic actress who my dad has represented since they were both brand new in the business.

  “Yes. Of course, Cara wasn’t going to accept that without talking to me, so she tracked me down immediately.” My dad’s voice turns from the edge of a knife to pure hellfire. “No one touches my fucking clients without my permission,” he snarls.

  Suddenly I feel almost sorry for Liam. I’ve made it a point to never get on my father’s bad side because I’ve seen what happens to those who do. It’s not pretty.

  “I’m removing him immediately, and I want to put you in the V.P. position.”

  I can’t help the sharp hiss of breath that I make. My hands are shaking now and I have to blink several times to make my eyes focus again.

  “But before I do that officially I need to know that you’re all in. I’m hearing rumors that you’ve been screwing around with one of those kids from the band.”

  “The band” is what my father has always called Rhapsody. Because they were virtually my first client he didn’t need to use their name, they were simply “the band,” as opposed to “the basketball player,” or “the actress.” When you only have one of each type of client, they don’t need names. It was sort of my father’s way of making sure I remembered that I didn’t have many clients and the ones I did have weren’t terribly important.

  I shouldn’t be shocked, but still, I am. My mouth opens and closes twice before my father continues.

  “I don’t generally care who you sleep with, but right now I need you one hundred percent focused on the business. If you’re going to be V.P. you don’t have room for bed buddies. When the tour’s over you need to end it. If you’ll do that then I’ll have the attorneys draw up the paperwork to make you my successor.”

  I remember once when I was a very little girl, three or four, my father came to visit for Thanksgiving. He hadn’t even been there for a whole day before he started complaining to my grandmother about the pacifier I still walked around sucking on when I was at home.

  “She looks like a baby. She’s not a baby,” he told Gram.

  She told him that when he could be bothered to come visit his only child more than twice a year then he’d get a say in how to raise me. But my father didn’t become one of the biggest agents in the country by giving up. He saw the front door was shut, so he went in the back.

  I was in my room playing when he came to find me. “Princess,” he said, giving me his most charming grin.

  “I have something for you,” he said, pulling out a beautiful porcelain doll from behind his back.

  I was utterly charmed. It was a little girl’s dream—long ringlets, a perfect painted porcelain face, and fluffy, lacey Victorian clothes.

  I reached for it, but he pulled it away. “You have to do something for Daddy before I give this to you,” he told me.

  I nodded, my eyes big as I stared greedily at the doll.

  “You need to throw away the pacifiers.”

  My little heart raced and I drew my hand back. “My binkies? But, Daddy, I love my binkies, and Gram says I’m allowed to have them only at home.”

  “Gram doesn’t understand some things, Shannon. I’m your father, I know what’s best. You get rid of those and then you can have the doll. She’s beautiful, isn’t she? I think you’d like to have her for your collection, wouldn’t you?”

  My poor little girl heart almost burst that day, but the combination of the new doll and a chance to make my father happy tipped the scales and I threw away every pacifier I could find in the house. I never told my father that I lay in bed night after night crying because I couldn’t sleep without my binkies. But my father got his way, and for a few days he was happy with me, even taking me and the new doll with him to a fancy restaurant for dinner. It was one of the first times I realized that if my father could love me it would be wonderful.

  Now he’s asking me to give up so much more than a pacifier. But the payoff is so much more than a fancy doll.

&nb
sp; “Shannon,” he says, warmly. “I know I made a mistake. I’m here saying I’m sorry. This is a chance for us to work together more closely. I want to have my only daughter by my side these last ten years while I grow the business more before I retire. I want you to be part of this business with me.”

  Twenty-seven years is a long time to want something, wait for it, pray for it, hope for it, and work for it. God, how I’ve worked for this moment. When my dad would finally want me to be part of his life in a real way, part of the thing he loves most in the world, his business.

  I absentmindedly rub the steel butterfly at my neck and my heart pulses, burning and agitated. Give up Dez. That’s what I have to do if I want this gift from my father. Give up the first man other than my father who’s ever made me want to love and be loved. Dez, who has been gentle and strong and caring.

  I bite my lip and turn my eyes to the ceiling as if the answers to my dilemma are up there. My heart squeezes yet again and I feel tears start behind my eyes.

  “Dad—”

  “Shannon,” he says at the same time.

  We both stop. “Let me finish,” he says. Of course, I let him. “I know I haven’t always done the best for you, haven’t always been as supportive as I could have been. But this is a real second chance for us. A way for you and I to build something together, really be a family.”

  My head is spinning, and my father, the master of negotiation knows when to press your case and take advantage of your opponent’s confusion.

  “So, you’ll end it with the guitarist and come back to L.A. next week.” There’s no question in his voice, and I’ve been trained to be a yes-girl my whole life.

  “Okay,” I say softly, still staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling above me.

  “Good. I’m going back to the office day after tomorrow to clean up the mess Liam made. I’ll see you next week. Send me your itinerary and I’ll make sure we have everything ready for you.”

  The call ends, and I’m left in a hotel room that looks the same but is actually a whole new world.

  It’s one of life’s great mysteries that dismantling always seems to take half the time assembling does. Dez and I have spent the last few weeks sharing hotel rooms. In that time we’ve built our own little routines. He puts his clothes away in the dresser drawers first thing when he comes in, I always get the luggage rack for my suitcase. I keep my things to the right of the bathroom sink, he keeps his to the left. I sleep on his left—always—because he’s right-handed. It took me awhile to figure that one out, but then he demonstrated and I quickly became an enthusiastic left side of the bed girl.

  Weeks it’s taken to adapt, adjust, develop, and engrain these little habits. And they’re part of the culture of us. Dez and me. But it takes me no more than ten minutes to pack up everything I have and walk out of our suite. And like that, it’s done. He doesn’t know it yet, but in a few hours he will. Then I’ll be free to go take on the responsibilities at my new position in my father’s company, and I’ll finally have everything I’ve ever wanted. Except I think that I might have wanted a Dez in my life all along, only I was too blind to see it. Now, however, it’s too late to change course. A week ago I thought maybe I could, but when I heard my father’s voice today I knew I’d been wrong.

  And the truth is, Dez and I would never have lasted anyway. He’s never once mentioned life after the tour. He’s a musician, he’s on tour constantly, surrounded by all those groupies, never in one place for more than a few weeks at a time. I live and work in L.A. I work seventy hours a week, I have to commit myself to my clients and my job a hundred percent. Even if Dez had wanted to try us after the tour it wouldn’t have lasted. This was a vacation romance, and all I’ve done is end it a few days early.

  This is what I tell myself as I make my way to my new room, bags in hand, tears in my eyes. And when I’ve unpacked yet again and set up my things to the right of the bathroom sink, I lie down on the left side of the bed and close my eyes, part of me wishing that I’d never met Dez Takimoto, because now I’ll never be able to sleep on the right side again.

  I walk into the Nelson’s Soda reception wearing my skimpiest black dress. The cutouts in the sides make my waist look tiny, and the faux wrap-around top clings to my breasts, cutting in a deep V in the front. The skirt isn’t tight, but it’s straight, and so short that I can’t do much more than stand upright in the damn thing.

  I find my target as soon as I arrive. He’s at the bar talking to one of the main stage performance artists, a guy from New York who’s been on the Tonight Show and in a Broadway hit. As I make my way to them I grab a glass of champagne off of a waiter’s tray and swig it. It’s going to take a lot of liquid courage to get through this, but I know Dez, and this is the only way. My chest burns at the thought, and my stomach lurches so much I have to stop midway to my destination to take a deep breath and calm my body. My head is on board with this—the rest of me? Not so much.

  “Well, to what do we owe this honor?” Romeo says as I reach him.

  “Romeo. Mick. What nefarious things are you two plotting?”

  “Romeo is telling me that his company might want to make this convention an annual event.”

  I turn to look at Romeo. He’s a good-looking guy if I’m being objective, which is pretty tough to be when he opens his vile mouth.

  “So, giving away the company secrets so early in the night, Romeo? How much have you had to drink?” I smile at him and bat my eyelashes.

  “Hardly a secret, darling,” he drawls. “And I saved myself to drink with you, of course.”

  “Speaking of drinks,” Mick says. “I’m going to go get myself a new one. Romeo, please let me know when you all decide on next year. I have some suggestions for you—great cutting edge things you’ll love.”

  Mick wanders away and Romeo faces me, a smarmy grin on his face. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure, Shannon? I know you’d never come over to talk to me unless you had an ulterior motive.”

  I made sure that I timed all of this as closely as possible, so I’m watching the rest of the room as I talk to him. I can’t make my move too soon, but I also can’t wait too long. Either way the outcome would be bad news.

  I grab a new glass of champagne as a waiter walks by, leaving my empty on his tray at the same time. Taking a slow sip I give Romeo a long perusal. He continues to smirk, obviously not fazed in the slightest by my inspection.

  “Big plans tonight?” I ask.

  I see a flash of surprise in his eyes but he recovers quickly and takes a step closer.

  “Not sure yet.” He narrows his eyes at me. “What are you up to, sweetheart?”

  I smirk at him. “Maybe if you’re nice I’ll let you know.”

  “Mmhm.” He reaches out and fingers a lock of my hair. I work not to back away when he does it. Luckily the champagne is starting to take effect and my head is fizzy.

  Then, like there’s an electrical current linking us, I feel Dez. I turn my head a quarter turn to the right and see him chatting to Carson as he makes his way into the room. He hasn’t seen me yet, so I turn back to Romeo and step closer to him, putting mere inches between us now.

  “I got a new hotel room this afternoon,” I say as I lick my lips and place my palm on his chest. His expensive dress shirt feels all wrong beneath my hand. It should be the soft cotton of Dez’s t-shirts, my skin itches with the new sensation, but I fight the urge to pull back, and lean into him instead.

  “Is that right?”

  “It is.” I look in Dez’s direction again. He’s spotted me, and I see a look of confusion on his face as he notices how close I am to Romeo. I take a deep breath and turn back to the man in front of me. “Why don’t you come up and see it with me? I’ll give you the grand tour,” I offer in my huskiest voice.

  There’s a moment where Romeo is frozen, his eyes searching my face for answers to his many questions, then he follows my gaze in Dez’s direction. Dez has slowed now, standing and watching us with that quiet assessi
ng look he gets when he’s trying to puzzle something out.

  “Ah,” Romeo says, turning back to me. “I see what’s going on. How do you want to play this?” he asks.

  “Just do it,” I hiss, and he obliges by cupping the back of my head and crushing his lips to mine.

  I can’t bring myself to kiss him back, but I can’t pull away or all of this will have been for naught, so I hold very still and let him do what he will. And thankfully he’s both skilled and considerate. No tongue, but enough enthusiasm to make some steam. When he pulls away he holds my head firmly so that I can’t turn away.

  “Don’t look at him or he’ll never buy it,” he tells me softly. Then he takes my hand and pulls me firmly with him the opposite direction from Dez. We exit the ballroom and make our way doggedly to the elevators down the hall.

  “Just hang in there,” he mutters to me. “We’re almost clear.”

  I nod, keeping my head down as the tears swell up behind my eyes. I swallow and force them back. Not now. Not like this.

  Right as we reach the elevators I hear him. I think deep down I always knew he’d make this as hard as possible.

  “Shannon!” His voice is sharp and wounded. A tone I’ve never heard from him before.

  “I’ll follow your lead,” Romeo says so low only I can hear him.

  We both turn, Romeo still holding my hand.

  Dez is pale, but his eyes are hot and I see him clench and unclench his fist at his side. “What the hell is going on?” he asks, shooting a look of death at Romeo.

  “Let it go, Dez.” My voice is stronger than I would have thought possible given how hollowed out I feel.

  “No, Shannon, I won’t let it go. Three hours ago we were planning our night together. What the fuck are you doing with him?”