by L. B. Dunbar
Returning home, and to reality, was going to be the true test for us. Unfortunately for Guinie, the trial lay with her. If I accepted her, forgave her those sins, I could only hope that others would as well. If they rejected my decision to give us another chance, I’d have to decide what I would do. The empire of a rock group is volatile. Our lives splashed across the media, despite the need for privacy. No stone was unturned to soil our names. I’d known this in the past, as my birthright and conception were splattered through the ragtags. While I typically did not care about rumors or gossip, I did care about Guinevere. The whispers of a potential affair with Lansing were abounding. I’d heard them myself. It’s how I came to find them inside that coffee shop. I had to see for myself if it were true.
One look at Lansing, and his happiness, assured me that it was over for Lansing. He had moved on from his attraction to Guinevere. However, while convinced that Guinevere no longer had interest in Lansing, I was not assured her interest in me had returned. Once we exited the airport, I found I had a second issue. Ana.
Waiting patiently by a livery vehicle, Ana leaned back with long legs crossed at the ankle and killer heels in red to tempt the devil. She took one look at my hand joined with Guinie’s, and I was prepared for the wrath of evil I believed she could spew. She smiled tightly and opened the door for us. I didn’t feel comfortable with this arrangement and was thankful that Kaye joined us in the awkward silence of the ride to my apartment. Guinevere appeared hesitant at the mention of my address. I could have dropped her off first, but I didn’t wish to let her go yet. I would not have risked sending her home alone with Ana.
This forced Guinevere to return to my apartment with me. Kaye helped himself to a drink from my bar and headed to the office. Guinevere stood uncomfortably, still holding her bag, in the middle of my living room.
“Why don’t you sit down?” I ordered, pouring us each something to drink. I needed the liquid strength for what I anticipated would come next.
“I really should go home,” she said quietly. My heart sank as this had been her home, our home at one time. She lived with me, and I intended to marry her so this would be her permanent address.
“I’d like you stay…for a little while,” I spoke quietly then downed the shot of whiskey to calm my nerves.
She walked slowly to the couch and sat gingerly at the edge. She appeared more uncomfortable as time passed.
“Is it really that bad? To be here with me?” My tone had a bite to it that I didn’t intend, but could not control.
A shaky hand brushed through her hair.
“So many memories,” she mumbled, staring around the room.
Instantly, I thought of her sleeping with Lansing here, in my home, in my bed.
“Was it here?” I snapped.
Blue eyes looked up at me.
“Yes,” she said dreamily, looking away sad.
My anger rose like a thermometer in heat.
“How could you?” I hissed. “In my house? In my bed?”
She stared at me, confusion expressed on her face.
“Wha…” her voice shook. Hurt filled her eyes. “You think…” her words trailed off again. My temper rose.
“It was here? How could you fuck him here?”
She stood instantly, her bag still in her hands, dangling to her knees.
“You think I…here? Never,” she hissed. “What do you think I am?”
We were silent, as I didn’t respond.
“I see,” she said quietly. She turned and walked a few steps before I lunged for her. My arms encircled her from behind and I rested my head on her back. She stood rigid as I squeezed her tighter.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered into her warm skin. I promised myself I would not question what happened. It happened. It was over. “I didn’t mean anything.”
“You think I’m a whore, don’t you?”
I spun her so quickly her breasts collided with my chest. I wrapped my arms around her again, locking her against me.
“You’re my queen,” I breathed. “I love you.” The words spilled out of me. There was no preventing them. No taking them back. Guinevere stared at me, blue eyes unblinking.
“I wasn’t…” She paused, swallowed and took a deep breath. “I was referring to the baby. I thought you meant the baby.” Her voice faded to barely a whisper. My hand reached up to caress her cheek.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” I faltered as well. “I didn’t know it happened here.” I pulled her to me and embraced her hard. She stood for a moment, still clutching her purse trapped between us. She wasn’t returning my hug. I continued to hold her until the bag hit the floor and her hands came to my hips.
“Hold tighter, Guinie Girl,” I pleaded. Her arms slipped up my chest, breaking the connection briefly before wrapping around my neck. I kissed her shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I muttered on repeat. I kept it up until she kissed my neck in return. Pulling back, my lips found hers. The pain between us was deep; the kiss filled with loss. I struggled to capture her, as I knew I could. She didn’t fight me, as I knew she would. Instead, it was surrender. We both gave in and melted together. The emptiness poured from her lips to mine. I worried once again that she was preparing to walk away from me. I pulled back first and spoke.
“I told you once that you would be my queen. If it’s too hard, too painful to relive, I understand. But I pledge to you my faithfulness from this day forth, Guinevere. My loyalty lies with you. As my queen, you own me, body and soul. I am eternally yours, do with me what you will. If that means walk away, then that’s what I will do. For you. Not for me.”
Tears burst forth and her mouth fell to mine. This kiss was more intense, a different type of sorrow. It was an apology for wrongs done in the name of despair. I had put her in that position. I took from her what she gave in that kiss as my punishment. We had hurt one another, but I was committed to it not happening again.
She broke the kiss to say, “I’d like to stay.”
Mure Linn had once warned that Guinevere would be the end of me. A week later, I understood what he projected. I would not let her go, even if it meant letting go of everything else.
“Arturo, so nice of you to join us, finally,” Kaye muttered, as I entered an office that looked vaguely familiar at Camelot Records. I had an office there, too. I just never used it. I glanced around the wide space to realize this was my office and it appeared to be taken over by Kaye. The band was gathered here to discuss the release date of our latest album, appropriately titled The Future. The world tour was scheduled to begin in October and we were behind. We needed PR opportunities, small one-song exhibitions, practice, and some social engagements. The media was buzzing after Kaye’s stunt in Camlann over a month ago. The news of a release, a world tour, and pending marriages went forth like Kaye intended, wildfire spreading through dry, desperate kindling.
“So, I was able to squeeze you in for a performance on the street for the Morning Show. Rolling Stone wants an interview, and that annoying chick, Paisley Bell from Guitar Central wants an exclusive, as well.” Kaye droned on, but I drowned him out. I was never interested in the particulars. I just went where he directed us.
“Arturo?” Kaye snapped my name, pulling back to the business at hand. I had been daydreaming about Guinie and our night before. She was making up for lost time, and I was taking every minute of it with pleasure.
“Arturo,” he snipped again. “Practice. Monday.”
“Fine,” I waved a hand.
“What are we going to do about Arturo’s lead licks?” Lansing asked.
Kaye looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“I guess you better learn them quick.”
“What?” Lansing choked. He had his own role in our band, and I didn’t need him burdened with more, as he had Lila and Fleur.
“Or Tristan can take it?” Kaye suggested. I saw Tristan narrow his eyes in response to Kaye. He also had a full plate with Ireland and their ex
pected baby.
Perkins remained silent. I watched him drum his thumb along his thick thigh. He had plenty to worry about, as Hollister was due any time.
I realized they all had families and responsibilities. My responsibility lay with Guinevere, trying to get back to that couple that wanted a family. We needed more time, though. The concert was just damn inconvenient. We had lives outside of the band. Maybe it was time for something else. To everyone’s surprise, I said so.
“Maybe it’s too much. We all have a lot going on. I don’t think the timing of this new quest is opportune.”
“Opportune?” Kaye sneered. “I’ll tell you what wasn’t opportune…”
“Hey,” Tristan stood in my defense, while Perkins leaned forward ready to pounce as well.
“Alright,” Leo warned from his silent position across the room. He’d been eyeing me, but I continued to ignore him.
“Arturo,” he spoke calmly. “What are you thinking?”
“I think we need more time to reconnect. Release the album, play a few shows locally, but not a world tour. Perkins has the baby coming. Tristan, too. Their wives will kill them. I’m sure Lansing wants to get married.” I wasn’t sure if they even had a date, but I spoke on his behalf, knowing the tour would conflict with any wedding plans.
“What about you?” Leo narrowed his eyes at me.
“I have Guinevere,” I spoke boldly, “and I’m not ready to leave her behind.”
“Take her with you,” Leo said plainly.
“That isn’t it.”
“What is?” he responded.
I found it difficult to discuss, in the crowded room, my intentions with his daughter. We had a bond before, but I’d damaged it by leaving his daughter in the dark. I needed to earn his trust and forgiveness. I could tell he was skeptical of me. I was a damn good musician to him, but I was a terrible future son-in-law.
“I’d like more time with Guinevere. Here. We need to rebuild.”
“What you need, is to rebuild the band and your following,” Kaye bit.
I turned on him.
“What I need is Guinevere. Her trust and love.”
Kaye made a huffing noise and crossed his arms as he leaned back in my desk chair.
“You’ll get it, in time.”
“Well, that’s what I’m asking for. I need more time.”
“You’ll have time later. The band first. You can’t give up the kingdom for a woman.”
I stood tall.
“My kingdom for a woman? That woman was supposed to be my wife.”
“Well...” Kaye raised an eyebrow, an insinuation that I had made my own mistake in that area.
“You know what? Fine. My kingdom for that woman,” I spit. “I quit.”
Kaye was on his feet instantly, and Lansing charged the room to hold Kaye back. Tristan stood again, his hands running through his sandy hair. It was only Perkins who quirked a smile at me and nodded. It was my hint to exit, and I did.
The front door to Arturo’s apartment slammed shut, followed by him storming into his living room. His fist was clenched and his face tight. He passed me without a glance and headed for his room. I gave him a minute before he returned to the living room.
“Where the fuck are your things?” he snarled.
I stared at him, struck silent.
“Well?”
“They’re mostly at my dad’s still,” I said coolly. His face was contorted, full of rage and anger. He looked ready to explode.
“What’s wrong?” I stood from my twisted position on the couch to face him, my arms wrapping around my stomach. His eyes didn’t miss the motion.
“Don’t do that,” he bit, emphasizing his meaning further by swirling a finger in my direction. I let my arms drop to my sides and my fingers spread. I shook my hands nervously.
“What’s the matter?” I tried again.
“I want to know why the fuck it’s been a week and your stuff is still not here,” he demanded. I continued to stare at him. This could not possibly be the issue. I’d been staying the night, but returning home every few days to collect some items to prolong further overnights. He hadn’t mentioned it before, actually. We hadn’t discussed my moving back in. I was simply spending the nights.
I remained silent, staring, until a shaky hand combed through his hair, to hold the back of his neck in frustration. We glared at one another. Dangerous dark eyes burned into mine.
“What’s really bothering you?” I asked.
“I quit the band,” he exhaled heavily.
“No,” I said, rushing to him. At my approach, he turned his head away and I stopped. He didn’t want my touch.
“What happened?” I questioned again, softer in my plea to understand.
“Kaye wants that world tour. I don’t. He said I’m not interested for the wrong reasons and I quit.”
My startled eyes focused on his face. He was not telling the truth.
“What was the reason?”
He looked at me then turned away again.
“I see.” I paused. I risked stepping closer. “You know this will only make it worse. The media will have a field day if this is true. They’ll burn me alive.”
His eyes returned to me.
“What does this have to do with you?” He scanned me up and down, but again, I knew he lied.
“They’ll blame me. It will be my fault, somehow. I took away their beloved Night. The King.” I waited a beat. “And you’ll blame me, too. You’ll resent that you gave it up to be with me.”
“That’s not true,” he snapped, but the tone of his voice was already full of regret. His anger proved he disagreed with what he’d done.
“It is true. You need the band.”
“What I need is you to get your stuff here, and then I need to be inside you.” Within seconds, I was up against the wall and rough hands tugged at my shirt. He wasn’t even kissing me, just determined to get to his treasure. He hitched up one thigh and worked counterproductively by deciding to keep my clothes on, but rub against me.
“Arturo,” I warned, putting my hands on his chest. He was concentrating. He ground into me, but it wasn’t the friction I needed. I was frustrated. He attempted to raise my other thigh, using the wall for leverage. I started to slip.
“Arturo, you can’t hold me,” I warned again.
“I did in the shower, I can do it again.” He had held me up in the shower, but I’d also had the small ledge for support. Without his hand, he couldn’t cup me like he needed to. Besides, I was still dressed.
“This is ridiculous,” I pushed on him again as he began to kiss my neck. He worked so quickly I hardly felt his touch.
“You want to have sex?” I said, shoving against him in one more attempt for him to release me.
“Yes.”
“Fine, you can spread me wide after you tell me what’s really wrong.”
He pulled back abruptly, and I slid the remainder of the way down the wall. His breath was coming heavy as if he overexerted himself trying to lift me. His hand went to his hair again, and he took a step back then turned away from me.
“I don’t want to quit,” he sighed. “I just don’t want the tour. Why won’t Kaye listen?”
I didn’t have an answer. Kaye had always been a conundrum to me. He was equally a part of the band as their manager, but also not a member of the band directly. He had his own talent, or so I’d been told, but Arturo outshined him. Arturo had spent his success trying to make up for that one time.
“Do you ever think Kaye is jealous of you?”
Arturo turned to look at me. He believed it might be true. I could see it in his eyes, but he didn’t want to admit it. Confessing his thoughts might make them the truth.
“What about the company?” I added.
Kaye Sirs and my father had both wanted to run Camelot Records. With Arturo gone, they jumped in feet first; worried the company would go under without Arturo’s presence. As the newly appointed managers, they took the job ser
iously the second Arturo was missing. It suddenly occurred to me how strange that timing was. Kaye had taken over as soon as Arturo was gone. I shook the thought.
“If you’re gone for the tour, Kaye is still in charge.”
Arturo continued to stare at me.
“He’s already in charge.”
“Is he?” I asked. Arturo King still had controlling interest, as well as, final say in anything regarding Camelot. Hell, he had it for the whole Pendragon Empire, Inc., but his concern had been for the record company within the empire. After the band, after the tours, after the albums, the plan was for Arturo to take over ruling this small label, and grow it to something big. In the meantime, it would be the order of Leo and Kaye that ruled the albums produced within.
Arturo’s hand fell from his neck. His puzzled look questioned what I was saying. Suddenly, the bell rang. As Talia wasn’t living in the apartment any longer, it was up to us to answer the door. I went for it, but Arturo brushed past me. Tristan Lyons stood in the entryway.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he started, pushing past Arturo and letting himself into the apartment.
He turned on Arturo the first chance he had inside the living room.
“We waited months for you. We stalled. We worked on the album ourselves. We didn’t give up. Well, Perkins didn’t give up. And now you’re back. Don’t fuck this up for us.”
Arturo glared at his friend.
“I thought I’d being doing you a favor. You have Ireland, a new wife, and a baby on the way. Don’t you want to stay here?”
“Fuck no,” Tristan said without missing a beat. “I miss the band. I miss the road.”
“The road will get old with a newborn and a wife, unless you’re not telling me something.”
I felt the anger roll of Arturo, his intention clear. He was implying that Tristan might like the road to return to his old ways, his flavors awaited. Tristan moved fast, pinning Arturo against the wall in a manner similar to where I’d been moments ago.
“Don’t you even go there with me,” Tristan growled into Arturo’s face. “I love my wife. I would never do to her what you did.”
I gasped. It was too much. Tristan knew my pain. He’d been the one to find me when I was bleeding from the miscarriage. He knew my heartbreak at the loss of Arturo. He had guessed my sin with Lansing. His friendship meant a lot to me, but his accusation was inappropriate.
