by Eden Summers
Sean stood rooted in place, too shocked to move, too distraught for action. This was Ryan. The non-violent, polite member of the group. What the hell had Julie done to him? His gentle nature had vanished under a mask of hatred so potent Sean couldn’t recognize him anymore.
“Ryan, please.” Leah glanced over her shoulder, pleading with her eyes.
“All I need is a signature.” The guy pulled a piece of paper from the envelope.
“Fuck you,” Ryan spat, his shoulders sagging. “Tell her to go to hell.”
Sean stalked ahead, snatching the paper before Leah could beat him to it. “I need a fucking pen.” He needed a fucking Advil. A bottle of Scotch. Anything to stop the white noise in his head. Ryan was the one who pulled them together. He was the calm who lessened the severity of every emotional storm.
“Here.” The process server clicked a platinum pen and handed it over.
Heart in his throat, Sean stormed back to Ryan and looked his friend in the eye without an ounce of pity. “Sign this fucking thing. Let’s get this shit started. You don’t need that bitch in your life.”
Ryan’s bottom lip wavered as he yanked an arm free from Mason’s grip. “I’m not giving her a cent.”
“No.” Sean shook his head, taking his friend’s pain head on. “She won’t get dick. We’re all here to make sure of it.”
“You’re not going through this alone,” Blake added.
Sean chanced a glance at his bandmates and tried not to crumple under the weight of their empathy. For years, the five of them had sailed an ocean of fame and fortune. Tough times came and went, yet none of them had ever seemed as brutal as the devastation written on Ryan’s face. “This is only to acknowledge receipt of the divorce documents,” the man raised his voice. “Once I have that, I’ll be out of your way.”
Sean ground his teeth, hard, as he held out the paper. “Come on, Ry. Sign this shit. Be done with her.”
Ryan’s scrutiny bore into him, his nostrils flaring, his eyes glazing. “I fucking hate her,” he whispered.
“I know.” He chanced a smile. “We all do.”
Ryan released a breath of laughter that resembled a sob. “Give it here.” He snatched the paper and pen and leaned on his knee to scribble his signature. “Now tell him to fuck off.” He handed back the items and Sean strode for the process server, shoving the paper and pen against his chest.
“Make sure Julie knows her free ride is over.”
The man handed over the envelope. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
“You’ve done your job.” Leah spoke from Sean’s side, grasping the documents from his hand as she stabbed a pointed finger toward the door. “Get the hell out.”
“Thank you for your time.” The asshole turned on his heels, walking through the door Cameron held open.
For long heartbeats, nobody dared to breathe. This was the moment when Ryan would usually pull them out of the tailspin. He’d give their situation perspective. Point out the positive side. For the life of him, Sean didn’t know how to replicate that. He was lost. Unwilling to cause more anguish if he said something deemed insensitive. Because he sure as shit had a truckload of nasty things to say about Julie.
“Give me the envelope.” Ryan stalked forward, Mason and Mitch flanking him.
“Ryan.” Leah’s soothing voice echoed through the room. “Calm yourself first.”
Ryan paused, jerking back slightly at their band manager’s refusal. His brow furrowed. His lips pressed tight together in a show of restrained emotion. Then the vulnerability washed away. Pure loathing taking its place. “Give me the fucking papers.” He got in her face, hovering over her.
Cameron released the door, letting it slam closed as he rushed to Leah’s side. Sean approached, too, unsure what the hell Ryan was capable of doing next in his manic state.
“You don’t intimidate me.” Leah raised her chin, meeting Ryan’s stare. “So back off.”
“Just give me the fucking papers.” He reached for them as she slid them behind her back.
“You won’t be able to read them like this. You’re too emotional. Take a moment to breathe. We’ll get through this.”
“We?” Ryan scoffed. “Give me the god-damn envelope.”
“Come on, Ryan.” Mason maneuvered between them, making the rhythm guitarist retreat. “Back off.”
“Fuck you and your perfect life,” Ryan spat, barging Mason’s shoulder, sending him backward into Leah. He stormed away, shoving through the ballroom doors with a harsh slam of his palms against the wood.
“I’ll go after him.” Mason started for the door.
“No.” Leah shook her head and hastened on her stiletto heels to grab her handbag off a nearby seat. “I will.”
“Wouldn’t it be better—”
Sean cut Mason off with a hand against his shoulder. “They’re best friends. Let her go.”
“Sean’s right.” Sidney’s voice was gentle. Nurturing. “Let Leah go.”
Their band manager didn’t wait for their approval, she ran through the door Cameron pushed open again, and out of view.
The room chilled, or maybe it was just the blood in Sean’s veins.
“Fuck me drunk.” Blake’s eyes were wide, their dark depths filled with empathy. “What the hell just happened?”
“I have no clue.” Sean collapsed into a nearby seat.
“Maybe we should go.” Mitch ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. “No offense, Sean, but I don’t feel like hanging around to put shit on you anymore.”
The side of Sean’s mouth lifted, only he couldn’t pull off a smile, no matter how routine it was to talk shit when times were tough. “Thanks.”
“Are the two of you going to be OK?” Gabi asked, pinning him in place with the sadness in her eyes.
“Yeah. Sure.” He still had to nail this routine before he had the luxury of leaving. “If something happens, can you call me right away? I feel like shit.”
Mitch gave a jerky nod.
“Question is, do you feel like shit because of Ryan—” Mason started, an unconvincing grin on his face, “—or because you dance like a girl?”
“Don’t worry, bro.” Blake strode forward. “I’d feel like shit if I danced like you, too.”
Sean gave him a quick jab to the ribs as he passed and shoved him toward the doors. “Fuck you, asshole.”
Mitch chuckled, placing an arm around Alana’s waist, pulling her tight against his body. “I’m actually going to go to the hotel and fuck my wife.”
“Mitchell,” Alana snapped.
“What?” He kissed her cheek. “Don’t deny it. You know you’re going to jump me as soon as we’re alone.”
Sidney came up beside Mason, entwining their hands. “I don’t know why you guys always have to joke at times like this. I really don’t.”
“We’ll follow you out,” Cameron muttered, jerking his head toward the other security guard.
Sean watched his friends leave, the videographer and cameraman slinking out behind them. What an epic fuck-up. He felt completely hollow and consumed with grief all at the same time. Could his day get any worse?
Sasha cleared her throat and smiled when he met her gaze. “We’re all alone now, big guy.”
Yes. Yes, it could.
“What do you want to drink?” Sean glanced over his shoulder, not surprised to find Sasha taking a selfie with him in the background. He mimicked her pose, tilting his head to the side and smiled like he was high, hoping to ruin at least one of the twenty-five million photos she’d taken of herself since they arrived at the hotel bar.
“Gah!” She whacked him with the back of her hand and chuckled as she examined the image on screen. “Oh, I actually like that one.”
He rolled his eyes and jerked his head at the bartender. “Two beers, thanks.”
With only one day left up her sleeve, he was sure this woman was going to be the death of him. Apart from Mason, he’d never met someone filled with such unwavering c
onfidence. He wished her future husband all the luck in the world, if she was ever capable of finding a guy who could love her more than she loved herself.
If she wasn’t swiping her lips with gloss, taking selfies, or adjusting her clothes so more cleavage was on display, she was talking, non-stop, about herself. She was nothing like Red, and it made him miss dancing with her all the more. It made him miss her, full stop.
When the bartender returned with their drinks, he handed one to Sasha, then slid off his stool. “Let’s go sit in the back.”
He led the way, ignoring how she screwed her nose at the first taste of beer. It was going to be a fucking long night. One he didn’t want to share with Red if it meant dragging her down with his bad mood. Not that she was returning his calls, anyway. He’d speak to her tomorrow. Hopefully by then he would’ve heard from Ryan, and not be up all night worrying about his friend’s safety.
“Sooo.” Sasha fixed him with a saucy grin. “You’re quieter than I expected.”
He took a hard chug of his beer and then ran a weary hand over his mouth. “It’s been a rough day.”
“I thought we nailed it.” She frowned, yet still continued to smile. How the fuck did she do that? It was like she was constantly stoned, always smiling, always happy, and nauseatingly flirtatious. It made his head ache. He didn’t deny she was a nice woman under all her annoying attributes, but he was sick of tip-toeing around her blatant attempts to get him in the sack. He had no interest in sleeping with her. After years craving everything the world had to offer, his broody little redhead was all he wanted. Nothing more, nothing less.
“I’m not talkin’ about the routine,” he muttered.
“You mean Mel.”
He didn’t bother to answer, he simply stared at her for long moments, noting the differences between the beautiful woman before him and the one he wished he was with. There was no denying Sasha was hot. She just wasn’t his type, in looks or personality. And the more time he spent with her, the less attractive she became.
If he wasn’t entirely focused on getting more information on Red, and figuring the best way to get her to open up to him, he would’ve gone home as soon as the rehearsal ended. No matter how much Sasha begged him to join her.
“Have you got a thing for her?”
“Yeah,” he drawled with derision. Where the hell had she been all day? “We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks.”
“Oh…” Sasha’s eyes widened. “Wow…I didn’t even…I just assumed…”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I just didn’t picture the two of you together, that’s all. Mel’s…um…”
If the next words out of her mouth had anything to do with Red’s scars, he’d walk. He’d be out that door and backing away from the music clip. He’d already become sick of the contrast between how he viewed the woman he was head over heels for, and the way she viewed herself. He wouldn’t allow if from anyone else.
“Yeah?” he growled.
Sasha pressed her lips together and smiled. It was gentle and whimsical, the first real emotion he’d seen skitter across her features. “I guess I’ve only ever seen her with her ex, Simon, and you’re nothing like him.”
“No shit.” A weight lifted from his shoulders. “The guy sounds like a dick.”
“He is.” Sasha’s delight faded. “After the accident, he changed. It was like the flick of a switch. There was no more love or support. He was obviously only with Mel because of her status in the dance crew.”
“I don’t even know what happened in the accident. She won’t talk to me about it.”
“At all?” Sasha frowned, still whimsical, still pretty. “Not even when she showed you her scars?”
“She doesn’t know I’ve seen them.”
“So you haven’t had sex yet?” Sasha’s voice rose. “Oh, boy. That’s not a good sign. Once you’re on Mel’s radar, it’s pretty much a sure bet you’ll get laid. That woman used to be voracious. People sometimes joked that she was a narcissist…no. That’s the wrong word…necrophiliac. Shit, that’s wrong, too… Nymphomaniac.”
More than one nosy bar patron turned their way at Sasha’s raised voice.
“I assume that’s your natural hair color,” Sean drawled, fixing a glare on the numerous drinkers now eavesdropping on their conversation. “And we’ve had sex. She just won’t let me touch her anywhere on her left leg, and we’re always together with the lights off.”
“Whoa.” Sasha’s gaze lowered, focusing with intent on the condensation covering her glass. “I wish I knew what to say to help. She never held any qualms about sex while we were touring. I’m not sure how much she told you, but there used to be a hell of a lot of bumping uglies. This one time, Melody was straddling Tyson—”
“Yeah, OK.” Fucking hell. Sean held up his hands in surrender. “I get it. No need for details.”
She flashed him a look of chagrin. “Sorry. It’s a shock to hear she’s become inhibited.”
“I wouldn’t call it inhibited.” Even with Melody’s stipulations, she was still the best sex he’d ever had. “I think she’s just different now. Less confident.”
“Then that’s a true shame.” Sasha sipped her beer, scrunching her features as the liquid entered her mouth. “I was shocked when I found out she’d given up performing. Everyone in our dance crew was envious of her talent. Without fail, every time she was shown the choreography for a new song, she’d outdo the instructor. Not intentionally. She had a gift. She wasn’t just in the spotlight, she was the spotlight. Her moves demanded attention in the most ethereal, mesmerizing way.”
Sean didn’t doubt it for a moment.
“No matter how much we loved her, we were all a little jealous of how easy dancing was for her.”
“By chance, you wouldn’t know how I’d get that woman back?” Sean murmured. “How do I help her find the confidence again?”
That was his goal. The only mission he now had in life. As much as it was a gift to have her beauty all to himself, he didn’t want to deprive the world of what she could give. He wanted to meet the woman she used to be. He wanted to see envy in other people’s eyes as they watched her perform.
“I don’t know.” Sasha shrugged. “I wish I did.”
“Her sister thinks I need to push her.”
“And what do you think?”
He chugged his beer, pondering his answer. “I think I’m too scared to risk hurting her.” It had killed him to slam his truck door and walk away this morning. And he’d barely given her a nudge. How would he cope if he shoved her over the edge and she didn’t bounce back?
“I’m not sure how she’s got you fooled. The Mel I know is made of grit and determination.”
“That’s all fair and good to assume she’s the same woman, but what if I push her off the edge and she falls?”
“And what if she soars?”
Sean raised a brow. “Did you really just say that?” Jesus Christ. What the hell was he thinking? This woman spent most of her time admiring herself. Was he really going to listen to her drivel philosophy?
“It made me sound smart, didn’t it?”
He winced. He was on his own with this decision. Push Red and risk losing her. Or ride out the secrecy and watch it tear them apart. Either way there was a slim chance of obtaining what he wanted. What scared him the most was that he’d battled himself over his career and Sidney for so long now that he didn’t think he had much fight left in him.
“Sweetheart, after mixing up nymphomania with necrophilia, I don’t think anything could make you sound smart.”
Melody hadn’t slept. The hours of darkness had seemed more sinister. The ache in her leg more prominent. Her heart yearned for the past, or a different future. Either one would be fine. Only neither was within her grasp.
Or was it?
She was lost. Uncertain. And the adrift sensation made her nauseated. She needed something. Anything. Just a glimmer of hope to kick her out of
the depressing funk she’d immersed herself in. Unfortunately, the spur-of-the-moment call to her previous employer didn’t gain the result she needed. Jaxon Sharpe hadn’t been excited to hear her voice. She didn’t know why she expected otherwise.
Well, maybe she did. Jaxon had been the last person to praise her. He’d adored her skills, never holding back on his vocal adoration in front of the entire dance crew. All she’d wanted was a glimpse of that praise. Maybe even a hint that he’d kill to have her back on his team. It wouldn’t take much to bolster her pride.
It was delusional. A long shot. A seriously shitty idea.
“Mel, I’m not going back on tour until next year. Even then, I’m looking at taking the dance crew in a different direction. It wouldn’t be a great fit for you.”
It was a push. An aggressive shove backward into a depressive tailspin.
Not that returning had been an option. There was no way she could dance in front of a crowd. But the harsh slap of reality pulled her up short. All he’d had to do was pay her a compliment. Tell her he couldn’t wait to see her back on stage. A mere mirror of the praise he’d given her in the past.
Instead, she’d had to abruptly end the call, unable to hide the waver in her voice. There was no loyalty in her industry. There was none in Sean’s either. Beauty and public perception were everything. And yet again, she was made to feel like nothing.
Yes, Blair was readily available to give biased compliments. Sean would, too. At least, until he learned the real woman beneath her concealing clothes. That wasn’t what she wanted.
In honesty, she didn’t know what she wanted. But she knew enough to come to the conclusion that a future with Sean would be too hard on her lacking self-esteem. The early, brutally clarifying hours of early morning helped her set her path, and the future outlook broke her heart. The text she received from Sean once the sun rose was even harder to bear.
Morning, Red. If you could turn up early this morning, I’d appreciate it. We’ve got a lot to talk about.
Only they didn’t. She wasn’t going to turn up at all. Yesterday’s dance rehearsal had made the local late evening news. Her studio even received a mention. But it was the image of Sean leaving the hotel, side by side with Sasha, that reminded her she would never be good enough.
