by Cari Quinn
“Before Ian? Me too.”
“I need an Ian.” Perry glanced at me. “Like Ian, not actually Ian.”
“I didn’t say anything.” I relaxed my grip on my camera.
“You didn’t have to.” Lark waved an emery board at me. “Your eyes got all red and I think there was a bit of steam.”
I laughed. “Stop.”
“No, seriously. Why we’re jealous as fuck.” Lark tipped her head to the side. “Per?”
“Hmm?”
“How much longer till we get to Monterey?”
“Couple hours.”
She looked me over, and I sat up. “What?”
“Perry, grab me the green bag in my purse.”
Perry sat up with a little squeal. “Oh, girl!”
“What’s in the green bag?” I flipped my camera from review to automatic.
“What isn’t in the green bag is a better question.” Perry sat up and plopped a huge bag with a drawstring on Lark’s lap.
Lark dropped the bag in front of her and did this flip, twist thing, and the bag opened wide and every form of makeup tumbled out on the makeshift mat. “We’re going to do a makeover.”
I couldn’t help myself. I took a few quick pictures of the jumble of pots, creams, shadows, brushes, and sponges. “On who?”
“You, of course.”
“What?” I slowly lowered the camera.
Lark grinned. “You’re fucking gorgeous, but you need a little…something.”
A quick lick of panic fluttered in my chest. “I don’t need anything.”
“Oh, but you do.”
I backed up, but Lark snagged my hand and snatched my camera, quick as a snake.
“Hey!”
She lifted the camera and took a few pictures of me then handed it back. “Need before and after.”
“No befores and no afters. I’m good.”
“Come on. Don’t you want to blow his mind? I mean, you obviously do already, but just for fun. You know, make him sit up and beg.”
I glanced over at Ian. Still sound asleep. I wasn’t exactly opposed to glamming up a little. I just didn’t really think about it.
“Perry does amazing hair, and I’ll make you look like what a Kardashian wished they looked like.”
I tried to inch away. “I’m not really into anything with Kardashian in the sentence.”
Lark rolled her eyes. “I said wish. I’m going to make you look like yourself with a glowy, I’m-going-to-mess-with-your-man’s-mind-to-obsessive-levels kind of look.”
I nibbled on my lower lip. We did have time to kill. And if it was terrible, that was what they made soap for. I shrugged. “Have at it, girls.”
“Yes!” Perry hauled me up and over to sit at the little table between the gaming area and the couches. “Let us take care of everything.”
I fidgeted in my seat as Lark prepped my face—her words. Then did something with a spray and lotion and then her arsenal of tools. Perry brushed out my hair and started doing some sort of intricate braid.
The only problem with me sitting there was it gave me way too much time to analyze. When I was wrapped up in my art, I didn’t have time to think about Ian when he wasn’t around.
It was easier to immerse myself in one or the other. In the beginning, I was annoyed when he took me away from my work, now I just used them both as a respite from the other. It was confusing and overwhelming to have an equal love for both.
I swallowed.
Crap.
Where had that come from?
I couldn’t love him as much as I loved my art. There wasn’t enough room for both in my heart or my head. I reached up to touch Lark’s hand. “Um, can I have a sec?”
She stepped back. “Sure.”
I slid out of the booth and stumbled to the back where the small water closet was. Grant barely blinked as I passed him.
“Is she okay?” Perry asked Lark.
I closed the door then turned the water on. I stuck my wrists under the cool stream until the roar in my head subsided. I looked up—and gave a startled yelp at my face in the mirror.
My hair was in a crown braid and my eyes looked enormous. I wasn’t sure if the enormous part was panic, or Lark’s deft hand with her version of a paintbrush.
Probably a little bit of both.
I blew out a breath. Okay, so I was in love with him. It wasn’t a big deal. People fell in love every single damn day. It could be just a right-now love—maybe not forever.
My insides clenched.
Or maybe it was.
Just the idea of him not in my life was starting to make me more upset than the other way around. “Girl, you are so fucked.” I turned off the taps and dried my hands before going back out into the main cabin of the bus.
Lark stood up. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah, just tired. I get overheated quickly when I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah, me too.” Lark barely contained her smirk.
I shook my head. “Almost done there, Picasso?”
“Yeah. You were about done anyway. What did you think?”
“Well, it’s still on my face, right?”
Perry laughed. “Effusive praise.”
“I love the braids. Makes me feel like I don’t have twenty pounds of hair like I normally do.”
“It’s thick as hell.” Perry twirled her comb. “Pretty much why I chopped mine the hell off.”
“I think Ian might have some reservations with me cutting it. Then again, I’d probably break his fingers if he cut his.”
Perry glanced over at him. “It is fairly glorious.”
“I should be ashamed that I’m so into his hair, but I don’t care. It’s fucking hot.” I felt the heat in my face. I didn’t really have a lot of friends to talk to about Ian. About anything, really. Most of the time, I was okay with that, but it felt good to be able to have a little girl talk.
“Got time for a manicure?” I asked Lark impulsively.
“Oh, girl.” She dragged me back to the table.
We spent the next hour laughing about all the men—and almost-men, as Perry liked to call them—that they’d been involved with in the last few years. I was perfectly fine not being on the hot seat for these conversations. I took a few shots of the cliffs outside the bus windows, but the glare ruined most of them.
Finally, the three of us were lacquered up, face and nails. “This color is pretty cool. Might even last through some workdays when I get home.”
“I’d ask if you used a darkroom based on the state of your hands, but who the hell does that anymore? Everyone plays on Photoshop.”
I nodded. “Yeah, even I don’t do the chemicals for that anymore. Though I do like to play with Polaroids.”
“Ohhh. I used to have one of those. My grandmother gave it to me one summer when I was like eight.” Perry waggled her nails to get them to dry.
“Actually, that’s pretty close to how I got obsessed with mine. I found one in the loft of the barn at my aunt’s orchard. I drove my parents crazy by taking pictures all the time. Then eventually, I used them as a base for a lot of my paintings. That’s what I do. I’m an artist at J Town in Venice Beach.”
“What’s that? Sounds cool.” Lark made long, slow strokes with a clear polish on her long, blood-red nails.
“Kind of an artists’ community. We apply for studio space and to work with the advocates that run the foundation. A lot of opportunities there to get my name out without starving. Only thing is, I have to do a show before the end of the year.”
“Like an art gallery kind of deal?” Perry flipped one of Lark’s emery boards through her fingers.
“Yes. Ian dragged me out with him to get my mind off of it, since I’m stressing a little. And I get a little portfolio work as a bonus.”
“Yeah, the portfolio work is really what you’re thinking about.”
My lips twitched as I looked down at my navy-blue nails.
Ian shifted on the couch behind us. I twisted
around to see if he was finally waking up, but he only rolled to his side and flung out his hand. Those long, effortlessly elegant fingers that made me a little crazy.
I fiddled with the bottle of polish. “Am I dry?”
Lark tapped my nail with one of hers. “Yeah, you’re good.”
“Okay if I borrow this?”
“Gonna do your toes?”
“Nope.” I stood up. “Think my rocker boy needs a little glamming too.”
Perry giggled. “This I gotta see.”
I dropped down cross-legged in front of him on the floor. I was used to painting in cramped spots. I went for the one tucked close to his chest first, since it was most difficult. The brush was different than I was used to, but it held the polish surprisingly well. He shifted a little as I moved on to the other hand. I knew from getting my own done that the polish felt a little cool on the nail bed.
I was concentrating on his nails so hard that when I got a good look at the hatch-mark scars on his wrist and the circular scar on his arm, I lost my breath. This sweet little prank didn’t mean much when all that pain snuck into me.
I laced my fingers with his and his eyes slowly opened.
The soft smile on his face slowly faded. He reached out to touch my face. I didn’t realize a tear had escaped. I didn’t want him to know where my thoughts had gone. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re not the tearing-up sort.”
I shrugged. “Just thinking.”
His gaze drifted to our linked fingers. He cleared his throat and tried to pull away. He was usually wearing bracelets and charms to cover the marks, but his arms were bare because of the fitting that day.
I gripped him tighter to keep us linked.
He sighed then cupped my cheek, stroking the line of color Lark had used to enhance my cheekbones. “Been busy, Magic.”
“Well, someone was sleeping. The girls were entertaining me.”
“You’re beautiful. You don’t need all the paint.”
“Don’t like it?”
“Didn’t say that. Just that you don’t need it. Now I’m going to have to fight off even more men.”
“Charmer.” I brushed a kiss along his wrist. And because it felt too big and overwhelming to imagine all that pain living inside him, enough that he’d look for that kind of a way out, I made myself add a little to the comfort. I nipped at his skin lightly before moving to his mouth.
Kissing him was always an experience. Sometimes it was just a precursor to getting naked, sometimes it was because I was too annoyed at him to speak. Now it was just giving him solace. And maybe taking a little for myself.
He sat up, cupping my face as the kiss went from a sweet brush of mouths to the edges of a wildfire.
The sound of a throat being cleared behind us reminded me we were on a damn bus. I pulled away. He pressed his forehead to mine before tugging me onto the couch beside him. He glanced down at our linked fingers. “So, we match then?”
I laughed. “I couldn’t help it.”
He twisted our hands to get a better look at his short nails, now in a sparkly blue. “I like it.”
“Yeah?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. Why not? Gives people something to talk about, yeah?”
“I think you just have to breathe and they talk about it.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Ten minutes out,” Benny called from the front.
Ian glanced over at the girls. “Making my girl too hot to be with me, ladies?”
Perry and Lark giggled. “Just passing the time.”
Ian stood. Our fingers were still twisted, but he finally slid away from me and headed back to the bathroom. I glanced over at the girls. “What?”
“Four-alarm fire on the damn bus. We are so fucking jealous.” Lark threw a towel at me.
I caught it with a laugh.
Ian came back out and looked from the girls to me. “What the hell did I miss while I was sleeping?”
I made a twisting key gesture in front of my lips.
He hurried down the aisle and scooped me up. “Tell me.”
“No way.”
“I’ll get it out of you.”
“Doubt it.”
“Hmm.” He sat back down with me on his lap. “Things are going to get a little crazy once we’re off the bus.”
“That famous there, hotshot?”
He rolled his eyes. “Not like that. I just mean we’ll have to do a quick soundcheck and all that bullshit.”
“Ah, you mean work. Sure. I’ll keep myself busy.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“Believe me, I have plenty I want to do. Besides, it’s a vineyard, right?”
“Yeah.”
I shrugged. “If I get really bored, you’ll just find me half-drunk.”
“I might actually like to see that. Unless you’re a belligerent drunk.”
I gave him a side eye.
“Are you a nasty drunk, love?”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “No, more likely to curl up like a cat and snore.”
He laughed. “I guess we’ll find out.”
The bus pulled around a huge driveway and the drop-off was impressive enough to make me grip the small sill in front of the windows. The ocean roared loud enough to overpower the bus engine. By the time we parked, I was the first off the bus.
“Hey!”
I paused at the bottom of the stairs. “What?”
He stood at the top of the stairs with his hands on his hips. “No good luck? Break a leg?”
I rushed back up the stairs to meet him. “Don’t break anything, rocker boy. I need you in perfect working order after the show.” I hauled him in for a kiss and raced back down the stairs. “I’ll find you.”
I wandered around the vineyard. The grounds were wide in scope and the sun was setting over the impressive acreage of land. I was used to orchards, so a vineyard wasn’t that different. Enough that I knew the good places to tackle for pictures. Some for my own usage at a later date and some that would highlight Ian’s soundcheck.
Even from a distance, he was impressive. He turned around to Perry a few times with surprise as they established a rhythm. She was a dynamo on her drum kit. I didn’t know jack about music, but the chick was talented as far as I could tell. And Lark was no slouch. She had a sexy vibe that Ian seemed to appreciate.
My fingers tightened on my camera as I swapped the lens out for my telephoto.
From a distance, he looked like he was sidling up to her. Through the long-range lens, I saw them bumping hips with a smile between them. Teasing, but more familial or friendly instead of the instant flavor of sex I assumed they would establish.
He attacked the mic stand as he warmed up his vocals and tested out the small amphitheater’s sound.
The stage was intimate, but suited his style. I found myself clicking more pictures than I thought I would. Enough that my memory card yelled at me that I was nearing my end. Taking photos in raw form filled the card faster, but I was definitely being indulgent.
For once, I didn’t really care.
I was going to enjoy him tonight.
Once soundcheck ended, Ian was pulled away to talk to a few fans. I took that time to collect myself and my equipment. By the time the outdoor theater started filling up, I was trapped in the logjam of people. I wanted to be down front to see him come onstage.
I weaved my way through the crowd. Snatches of conversation dented my consciousness.
Did you see him in Encino?
Fuck, yes. I nearly came when he did that thing at the end.
Came? Jesus. What thing at the end?
I hadn’t been watching his videos as closely as I used to. The real thing kept sneaking back into my life. That, and my current shitstorm with my advisor stopped me from doing anything besides work.
A prickle of guilt threatened to push into my enjoyment of the night. But there was nothing I could do. In fact, this was exactly what I needed fo
r my show, according to Ginny. I wasn’t quite sold on that yet, but I was willing to find out.
The lights went down just as I got to the middle section. I flashed my all-access badge and rushed down the main aisle just as the stage lights came up. Ian came up to the microphone. He was backlit to a mere shadow.
I nearly hit my knees in reaction.
He wore all black. Similar and so very different from the first time I saw him. Then he’d been mismatched and glittery in a garish extreme. Now?
Now he was in fitted black pants with a floral leather pattern climbing his legs. A silky black button-down shirt was tucked in, showing off just how well those goddamn pants fit him. His inky hair was a riot of curls tumbling down his shoulders to tease into the opening of his shirt. But it was the silver cross glittering against his skin that made me burn. The memory of it dangling over me as he thrusted into me again and again was like a frigging match.
Mine.
I wanted to clear out the whole audience and squirrel him away with me so no one could see this.
I wanted it to be only for me.
My fingers worked independently from my lust-filled lizard brain. I took the shots. Lined up the lighting and settings for the perfect rockstar photos. But the other half of me was revving up as his low, raspy voice filled the amphitheater. His voice was sex. His stage persona was as enthralling as any of the greats I’d seen over the years.
Presence.
It couldn’t be bought. It could be learned by some, but a true artist breathed it into the words they sang, the music they created. Ian was already mastering his talents in the short time since I’d seen him last. Tonight, he held the crowd in the palm of his hand with his moody and sensual opening song.
Lark’s liquid backing vocals enhanced Ian’s rough-around-the-edges textured voice. His vocal range filled the little pavilion and bounced around the crowd. The song started off soft and heavy and built until he was howling into the mic in a pure sexual frenzy.
He dropped to his knees at the end of the song and found me in the crowd.
His eyes were glittering and full of madness. His chest heaved with the note he’d held and I was absolutely done. Then the lights went dark.
The crowd erupted into screams and the rest of the set was full of rocking songs that brought people to their feet with laughter and clapping singalongs. He knew how to engage. I got dozens of shots of him flirting with the crowd. Drawing them into his wicked web of snark and sass before he blew them away with his talent.
