“Do you play any instruments?” Ramon asked while pouring, then passing me a solo cup filled to the brim with lemonade.
I took a big sip, sweet relief for a mouth made dry by the stress and the cross examination. “This is delicious.” I lifted my glass in the air to thank him.
“Gracias, Roja.”
I glanced again at Ash. Again no indication of recognition. I swiped a hand over one of my auburn brows and sighed. My encounter with the Dirt Dogs drummer at the Oscars had registered less than I imagined.
You were probably just one of a hundred fans he mingled with that night. Why did you think you were anything memorable?
Ignoring the familiar barbed tangle of hurt inside my chest, I returned my attention to Ramon and answered his question. “Acoustic guitar, mainly. The banjo some. The mandolin poorly.”
“You’re a strings girl.”
“Yeah, I guess.” That’s what Tristan liked to call me.
Ramon set down his cup and stood. “I’ve got a few guitars downstairs. I was actually going to run some things from my solo project. You wanna have a look at my collection?”
“Absolutely.” I stood and followed him as he headed toward the stairs we had taken up from the ground level entrance. I hesitated when I realized Ash wasn’t beside me. I had gotten accustomed to his presence at my side.
“Aren’t you coming?” I cringed at the unmistakable neediness in my tone.
“In a minute,” he replied as he and Karen exchanged a weighted glance.
Uh-oh. Had I said something or done something to lose Karen’s or his favor?
“Alright.” I dipped my chin to acknowledge Ash’s delay, though that tangle inside my chest twisted tighter as I turned to follow Ramon alone. I suddenly desperately missed my sister.
The two of us against the world.
Easier.
Safer.
Simpler.
I’d told Hollie our situation wasn’t simple. Far from it. But I hadn’t admitted how complicated things were truly becoming. Not to her. Barely even to myself. Being here at Karen’s house wasn’t simply about finding allies for our fight against our stepfather, though we seemed to have found them.
It was also about new friendships.
And way way too much about Ashland Keys.
Chapter Fifteen
Ashland
“What’s going on between the two of you?” Karen asked.
“Nothing’s going on.”
“Please. I’ve never seen you so affectionate with a woman, Ash. Simone said the same thing and she’s worried that…”
“I know what Simone’s worried about. She told me. It’s ok. There’s nothing worth stealing in the apartment. I’m a grown man. I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can. I’ve seen you do it. You insist on doing it.”
Ouch, that was a thinly veiled shot.
“But are you sure about her and her sister staying in your apartment? We could put them up at the OB Hotel. We really don’t know anything about her. And what I thought I knew doesn’t seem to be holding true just now. She certainly knows plenty about each of us.”
“She’s not a psycho celebrity stalker, Karen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I just am. There’s something about her.” I took my ball cap off, raked a hand through my hair and returned it to my head bill backwards now. Whatever it was about Frances, it had been skittering along the edge of my mind day and night ever since I had brought Hollie and her up to the apartment. It was driving me crazy. That light in her eyes. Her resilience. Her determination. It was familiar somehow. But something kept me from accessing that familiarity, like my brain had purposefully walled off whatever it was. The mention of her being a musician was rapping against that barrier in a major way.
Soft sounds drifted up from downstairs. Conversation. Latches opening. Strumming.
“I feel like I should know her from somewhere else.” Karen shook her head. “It’s her eyes, I think. They’re sad, but there’s a strength in them, too. And then there’s the way she…looks…at…you…” She trailed off as more than just random test chords filled the air.
Music.
“A musician, my ass,” I mumbled, moving toward the stairs.
A fucking prodigy was more like it.
I took the stairs two at a time, stopping in my tracks at the bottom, my breath whooshing out of my lungs.
Frances sat on an ottoman, her delicate ankles in those unusual purple high-tops crossed. She held Ramon’s Martin cradled in her lap as if it were a beloved child, her eyes misty. And her expression? Well, I had never seen her look like that, so blissful and at peace. It made my chest hurt to look at her. I had thought I hadn’t seen her look more beautiful than when she laughed.
I was reconsidering.
The sounds she coaxed from the instrument as her fingers skated over the strings felt like a privileged glimpse into her inner self. Ramon stood across from her. We exchanged a glance as she continued to play. Karen, too, as she moved close to me and shook her head in disbelief.
Frances might not want to share who she was in words for whatever reason, but she was sharing it right now. Music was the voice of her soul. The melody was the same one she had hummed to me in my sleep. In it lay the strength Karen had noticed. But also great loneliness and the longing to be loved. I could relate, though I had buried that desire for myself a long while back. Looking at her now, staring into her eyes and listening to her play, I wondered if she just might have the capacity to resurrect it.
“Frances,” I whispered.
Blinking slowly, her cheeks flamed bright red. Lips that had been curved flattened. She ducked her chin reaching for the clip on the guitar strap.
“Don’t stop on our account.”
“No, that’s ok. I’m finished.” She held the guitar up to Ramon, and I noticed she was trembling, visibly upset. “You were going to play something for Ash,” she reminded him when he looked at the guitar and then her as if unclear what to do with the instrument. Or maybe he was just dumbfounded by the sounds she had been able to draw from it. I empathized. He was an accomplished guitarist. One of the best. And I…we…all of us had seen a lot of talented performers through the years. Frances ranked right up there along with them.
“You’re the girl who’s been playing ‘Lonely Island’ on the corner by Stump’s.” I cleared the emotion from my throat as she turned to regard me again. “The one everyone’s been talking about.”
She nodded.
“I don’t need to hear anymore. You want a job? With Outside?”
She shook her head.
I cocked mine. “You got a contract with another label?”
“No. I…” She sighed, then circled a finger around her face.
“The bruises will fade, little one.”
“They jumped me while I was performing,” she whispered, glancing away. “I don’t think I’m up to playing in front of anyone yet.”
“Understandable.” I moved to her and dropped to a knee. Putting my eyes at the same level as hers, I captured her hands that had started to flit around her chest. “I’d like to get you into the studio. We can go after hours tonight or whenever you’re ready. No one has to be around.” I felt the tremor of her fingers. Her voice shook. Longing? Fear? I wasn’t sure which it was. For me, it was a little of both. It wasn’t just her music that I wanted.
“Maybe. I don’t know. Can I think about it?”
“Of course you can, honey.” Karen drifted closer. “Ash is just intense about getting good talent for Outside. Don’t let him frighten you. There are a lot of sharks in the music business. He’s not one. He’s one of the good guys.”
“I know that.” She looked directly into my eyes again, and I felt the wall inside me rumble.
“Thanks,” I told her with a nod, regained my feet unsteadily and turned my gaze to Karen. “Appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“I’m
only telling the truth, Ash.”
“Still.”
“So.” Ramon cleared his throat. “I listened to the files again like you suggested. I agree for the most part. But I had a couple of things I’d like to change on the album.”
“Lay it on me.” I think he recognized the awkwardness of the moment and was throwing me a rope.
“Will do.” Ramon dipped his chin and went for his electric guitar, sitting in a stand beside his amp.
“I’ll leave you two, um, three to get to it.” Karen announced, hooking her thumb toward the door. “I’ve gotta go open the shop.”
“Don’t want you walking, babe.”
“Simone’s picking me up. She should be here any minute.”
“No ladders.”
“No ladders, promise. Do I have your permission to work the register at least, Romeo?”
“Not trying to be a hardass.” His dark brown eyes practically glowed with intense emotion. “I’m just looking out for you and in your condition…”
Karen shook her blonde head vigorously
“What condition?” I zeroed right in on the flub. “Are you pregnant?”
“Yes. Probably.” Her cheeks blushed almost as prettily as Frances. “I did one of those home tests, but I haven’t been to the doctor yet to confirm.”
“It’s going to be ok, surfer girl.” Ramon abandoned his guitar and moved to take the better prize in his arms instead.
“Congratulations,” Frances said, her eyes glistening brightly.
“Yes, congrats.” I crossed to them, hugged Karen and clapped Ramon’s shoulder. “I couldn’t be happier for you.”
~ ~ ~
“You’re awfully quiet,” Frances said as we cut through the Rite Aid parking lot on the way back to my apartment.
“Yeah. Got a lot in my mind, I guess.”
She frowned, the uncomfortable silence continuing between us. “Did you not like the changes to Ramon’s songs?”
“I liked ‘em alright.” I didn’t feel strongly about them one way or the other. If he wanted them in they would stay in.
“I thought they were pretty good. It’s subtle but the new chord progression on ‘Soldiers’ really works better with the mood of the lyrics.”
“You’re right.” I gave her a discerning look. In the wake of the bigger news I had missed it. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Because you’re mad at me.”
“What? No.” I shook my head. “What makes you say that?”
“You’ve been quiet and distracted since we found out about the pregnancy. I know you’re not upset about that. So it’s me. Simple deduction.” We had reached the pier. She stopped to stare at the ocean. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the gang guys and the trouble I’m in. I just…it’s just that…” She trailed off, her brows pulling together beneath her beanie.
“It’s hard for you to trust,” I filled in.
“Yeah.” She sighed. “It’s not you. It’s me. Lame as that sounds.”
“I get it.” Man, did I ever.
“And I’m sorry if I seemed disinterested in the job offer. It’s cool that you would even ask. Cool the way all of you are helping me when I’ve done so very little to deserve it.”
“I’m not upset about you taking your time.” I grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face me.
“So you admit it,” she grumbled to the pavement. “You are upset.”
“Yeah.” She read my moods uncannily well. I released her shoulders and tilted up her chin. “But not with you.”
“Oh.” She blinked slowly. “Then what is it?”
“Nothing I really wanna talk about. Ok?”
“Ok, Ash.” She studied me a long beat. The crease between her brows deepening, she reached toward me, her tone as soothing as it had been during the night. “It’s ok.” I didn’t withdraw. I held my breath as her hands moved toward my face. I had touched her plenty. More than I should have. I couldn’t seem to help myself. Her fingertips lightly skimmed my skin. That felt so good I had to lock my muscles not to shudder. Her hands formed a tentative frame for my face. Her thumbs brushed back and forth across my cheeks. She stared deeply into my eyes. I returned her perusal. I could see my own longing in her gaze. Not surprisingly, I didn’t just indulge her touch. I reveled in it. But it wasn’t right. A dangerous delight. I brought my hands up to remove hers but instead pressed her fingers deeper into my skin. Her lips parted. She emitted a low sound of approval. Willing myself to remain in control, I curled my fingers around hers and removed her hands from my face.
“I’m not big on the touching thing.” My voice was gruff reflecting the effort it had been to stop her. I liked her touching me way too much.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just wanted…I mean, you looked so sad. My apologies.” The disappointment in her voice, coupled with the look in her eyes hit me with the power of a punch to my gut. But it was necessary. Boundaries had begun to blur with her. I’d let them blur. I’d wanted them to blur. But some lines shouldn’t be crossed.
“My bad, not yours, little one. It’s me who needs to apologize to you. I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression.”
Her eyes full of hurt, she nodded once and scooted ahead of me toward the building, her movements stiff. I had made things awkward, but I couldn’t explain it to her. She had her secrets. I had mine. While Karen’s news today was wonderful, it was also a grim reminder of a future I could never have.
Chapter Sixteen
Fanny
“Did you tell him who you are?” my sister asked.
“No, and I don’t plan to.”
“Then what the hell just happened?” Hollie and I stared at Ash as he emerged from the guestroom and stormed up the interior staircase to the roof with his drumsticks clenched in his fist.
“What exactly do you want to know?” I dropped down on one of the barstools and tried not to cry. “He knows who beat me up. He offered me a job after hearing me play Ramon’s guitar. Oh and Karen is pregnant.”
“Whoa. A lot happened in the last few hours.” She shook her head. “But none of that explains why he nearly bit off my head right now instead of sitting down with us and eating the lunch I prepared.” She frowned. “I might not be as good a cook as you are, but I don’t think turkey melts on rye are all that offensive.”
“I made a pass at him. He rebuffed me.” I blinked back the burn. You would think I’d experienced enough humiliation with him, but no. Stupid me. I just had to go there.
But not anymore
So not anymore.
“Let’s eat lunch,” I declared.
“Fanny,” she said softly, touching my arm. “Maybe I should say something to him.”
“No, Hols. Let him be. Let me be. Alright?”
“Ok.” She took a seat beside me at the table. We ate. She washed the dishes. I dried. I put Saran Wrap on his sandwich, put it on the middle shelf in the fridge and left a note for him on the bar so he could find it after he finished banging his drums one floor above us. Glancing one last time at the stairs, I grabbed my sister’s hand and let her know we needed to have a talk.
In his bedroom with the busted door providing zero privacy, I turned to her, brushed a strand of her hair over her shoulder and told her what I had decided.
“You think she’ll help us?”
“I hope so Hollie. She’s all we have. I’m not asking for his help. Not after what happened.”
“I don’t expect you to. But we don’t have phones. How are you going to get in touch with her?”
“I’m going to walk out the door and go to her surf shop and talk to her.”
“The hell you are.”
“Ash!” My hand went to my throat. I hadn’t realized the drumming had stopped, hadn’t heard him come in. “How much did you…”
“I heard everything,” he growled.
“Oh.” I turned to my sister. “Can you give us a minute alone, Hollie?”
“I don’t think so. He looks mad.”
> “It’s ok, Hols.”
“But,” she protested.
“He’s just going to say what he needs to say, then I’ll do what I need to do, and we’ll all just go on with our lives. Simple. No need for drama.”
“Ok.” Hollie left the room slowly, glancing over her shoulder twice before disappearing from sight.
“What’s going on Ash?”
“You tell me, Frances.”
“Um, no. You’re the one who was eavesdropping on a private conversation. You go first.”
“You’re not leaving this apartment without me. It’s too dangerous. Those guys are still out there.”
“It’s just down the sidewalk, a couple of steps through the public parking lot, around the corner and up a half block. I think I can manage it alone.”
“Not. Without. Me.” His gaze traveled over my face. He looked sad, mad and frustrated. I didn’t understand it. I was the one who had been rebuffed.
“What do you need to talk to Simone about?” he asked in a gentler tone.
“Not Simone.” I scrunched my brow. Why did he assume I was going to talk to Simone? I had barely spoken a few words to her. “Karen,” I corrected.
“Alright, Karen then. But why?”
“I’m going to tell her everything.” I lifted my chin. “And ask her if she’ll help me.”
He looked surprised by my explanation. “What kind of help do you need?”
“A cash loan. So Hollie and I can go somewhere…somewhere safe.”
“To prepare for that fight you mentioned.”
“Yes,” I confirmed. He had been paying attention.
“Alone. Just the two of you?”
“Yes, of course just she and I.”
“No way. It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t remember asking for your permission. And anyway, it’s not your concern.”
“You’re wrong. I told you how we all…”
“You pressed into my hand,” I interrupted him. It was time to cut to the chase. I didn’t have the time or the strength to argue with him anymore.
“What?” His brows rose.
Oceanside Page 12
