Sin's Flower

by Carlene Love Flores

  “Now to go pack,” she whispered to the pine scented candle and then blew out its woodsy flame. Before making her way back to her room, she chucked the jar of olives into the wooden kitchen trash bin where they landed with a heavy thud but no sound of shattering glass. Good, she didn’t want to disturb anyone here; she just wanted that crap gone.

  Chapter Two

  The next day; San Luna, California, Sin Pointe’s personal studio…

  “Where in the hell is yesterday’s mail?” Or better than that, where in the hell was Benny? “Benny!”

  Hell’s piss! Paper had come to litter and then die on his webmaster’s desk. He scanned the postal mess for this month’s ballet bill. A snide personal letter from the dance teacher reminding him it was in bad taste for Maryellie to be missing December’s lessons had already surfaced. “Benny, where the hells are you, mate?” Fuck. Me.

  A toilet flushed.

  Benny.

  “Sorry, Jaxon. Were you calling me? I was just…”

  “Yeah, I got it. We all have to shit around here.”

  Benny sighed and then his slumping, abnormally large shoulders sagged even more.

  Great, he’d gone and scared the sweetest dude he knew. Benny was like a gifted genie on the computer. The band wouldn’t have such well-informed, fervent fans, stalking their every move, had it not been for him. But the kid sucked just as badly as Jaxon did at keeping the studio organized.

  “Since she’s been gone, this place has turned to shit,” Jaxon sang under his breath to the tune of the poppy Kelly Clarkson hit, changing the words as he saw fit. Benny cranked up a brow so Jaxon answered. “What? I’m well-versed. And don’t look like that, mate. I’m not really that pissed.” He’d have thought Benny would have figured this out by now that they spent so much time together, both at home and the studio. Maybe he has but I’m just a scary fucking shit head.

  That was more like it.

  Jaxon rubbed at his sore triceps as he reminded himself he’d decided not to be that ass anymore. More good deeds, less dickhead moves.

  “Hey, um, so what did you need, boss?” Benny asked, hands tucked into the pockets of a vest that did ridiculously embarrassing things to Jaxon’s psyche. The girl who’d made that vest for Benny was the missing mortar to the walls of this studio. Without Trissy, well, the place just wasn’t the same.

  It’s good she’s not here anymore. She made it out, now shut up and get on with your life.

  Jaxon tried focusing on Benny’s question again, although tenderness took up beside the pain because he knew his Maryellie was now safe in Tennessee, enjoying a wholesome holiday with Trissy and her family.

  “Yeah man, have a listen. I’ve got to call the ballet studio and make nice with the teacher. Find last week’s mail, will you? I need the numbers—account, phone.” Who was the wanker who said time healed all wounds? He launched into a few neck stretches until a goody cracked its way out. God, that felt amazing.

  “Sure, it’s all right here.” His horrible temporary assistant pointed to a stash of envelopes tucked to the side of his monitor and a dripping can of Dr. Pepper. “Woops. It’s kinda wet,” said Benny.

  “Hand it here.” Jaxon poked through, still not finding the invoice he needed.

  Oh fuck it, I’ll just send in a check covering this year’s tuition and next.

  He tossed the sticky pile of crap back onto the cluttered desk. “Benny, do me a favor and just find the studio’s address. And if you can, a dry envelope.” Benny nodded while Jaxon tugged on his pocket chain.

  A postcard hidden between soggy guitar mags caught his eye. He rescued it and flipped it over to see the distinct handwriting of his horribly missed assistant and best friend. On the other side was a photo of his cousin, Lucky, and Trissy, sitting posed with her growing, preggy belly. “Did you know Trissy had sent this, mate?” He held up the Christmas photo card.

  “Sorry, it must have gotten lost in the…”

  “In the sopping mess you call your desk nowadays?”

  Benny’s eyes showed a kid about to be, no, way past being fed up with his boss as they popped open wide and stopped just in time from rolling around in their sockets.

  “Shit.” Jaxon tapped the edge of the card on the desk.

  “What is it, boss?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Fine.”

  Jaxon rocked back on his heels and blinked, hoping to get some moisture to his eyes. “I’ve got work to do down the hall. Clean this up. And by the end of this week, I want at least three choices in my office for a new assistant. No blondes and no brunettes.” Benny gave him a snide salute that Jaxon knew he’d earned. “Hey, ignore most of what I say. Except for the part about the new assistant. We suck dick at this, mate. Truly, like a big giant dick.”

  He left the front desk, then, and headed to his private studio room, tugging at his hair and stretching his arms over his head as he went. The tight, wanking muscles in his neck and shoulders ached for him to shut everything down. For five minutes, he needed a break from worrying about Maryellie, the inadequacy of a Trissy-less studio, avoiding his father…hell, his lack of a woman’s touch in nearly two years. His ex, Vangie.

  He needed to write a song. Or get laid. Where had the days gone when he’d have enjoyed those two things all at once? How long had it now been since he’d done either? He knew better than to be longing for those selfish days. But under a constant cloud of guilt battling his former desires, Jaxon’s current desires roared back to life.

  Warmth. Goodness. Light.

  He’d driven and sent them all away and whether he’d invited it or not, the dark cold he secretly hated surrounded him now, smiling.

  Fuck a new assistant, he and Benny needed the hell out of here.

  Too bad that was impossible.

  Chapter Three

  Jaxon would never get this song to come out right. He dropped out of his chair and sat legs stretched out on the cushiony floor. Every time he came at it, the thing became more gnarled and twisted. And without it, he had no way to tell the girl how sorry he was. How scared he’d been that night with her. Shit, enough time had gone by since he and Trissy had been brutalized by that group of psychos after the show. But, his knees still locked up on him whenever he slipped and forgot to keep the visions of that horror locked up.

  Trissy was safe in Tennessee with his cousin now, thank God. Maryellie, he reminded himself again how it was the right decision to send her there too. And for him to stay far away. Was he the only one who understood his showing up would ruin the holidays?

  He glanced back down at his blank page and rubbed at his eyes. He could see the words fighting the page. They were dirty and full of his failure. Damn good apology gift, right? Yeah. So it’s not bad enough that he had been forced to nearly rape Trissy that night. And now he was going to write her a song about that messed up shit?

  Rolling onto his back, he blew out hard with frustration.

  “Merry fucking Christmas.” He tossed his pen up at the ceiling and caught it, lucky it hadn’t speared his eye on the way back down. He did it again, trying to get past all the crap blocking the words.

  This time it landed square on his forehead, close enough to his eyes, which gave him a scare if he was being honest. Jaxon ground out a cough but then lit up at a quick vision of pip squeak-sized sparkle boots and bouncy braids marching down the airplane tunnel like a big girl. The thought managed to warm his stiff hands as he sat up and grabbed for his guitar. He strummed, finding the most familiar chord, the darkest one as always.

  But, his fingers pulled back from the strings as his worries again drowned out the song. Was he really willing to let his baby girl down? Hells no. Her mother had that covered. Along with proving to him he had regrettably horrible taste in women.

  Where the hell was Vangie? When she’d called last Christmas, and tried to pull another “give me money or I’ll yank Maryellie away from you”, he’d lied and told her he’d already tasked his lawyer to
have Maryellie’s birth certificate amended to include Jaxon’s name. So Vangie could go screw herself. And then he’d promptly given a call to his trusted manager and made good on the threat. Unfortunately, a change like that required Vangie’s signature since she was the only parent listed. They’d put one of those ads in the paper and if Vangie didn’t respond in another two weeks, the birth certificate would be amended.

  Jaxon scattered a stack of publicity photos he’d left after his last floor session in here reminding him of yet more responsibilities he couldn’t drop. The shots were for upcoming CD art he and the guys had done a few weeks ago and they’d actually come out all right. He grinned at Stefan’s bad boy pout, Marion’s perfectly sculpted sideburns and Will’s hand stretched across his heart holding a lone drumstick to his bare chest.

  Yeah, they needed him too. Poor bastards.

  But it was Trissy’s god-damned, wrecked face and tangled hair that wouldn’t leave him alone.

  “I only need her because she’s gone,” he sang to the empty studio room.

  He scribbled that down on the blank page, feeling an energy start to flow through his veins. With songwriting, he could be anyone.

  He could be a different friend. A different boss. He could deserve the praise he got from strangers who wanted to love him but had no idea what that required in the real world. Right now, with this pen, he could be better.

  Something inside sparked and he knew it meant he wouldn’t be leaving this room for a very long time. He reached over his knees and squeezed the pen in his fingers. Blood swelled to his temples.

  But tapping against the sound booth glass continued until he acknowledged it, forcing him to leave behind the hero he’d imagined being for the hour. Jaxon looked up and watched Benny’s lips moving in silence.

  Jaxon should have paid Benny more respect but he didn’t want to lose this lyric. After a pause, he strung some words together, etching out the beginnings of the song. “I have no idea where she is and I couldn’t care less. You were always my chosen mess,” he sang.

  Yeah, I might get out of this booth yet.

  Jaxon had looked away but turned his face back to Benny just in time to see his middle finger daftly trying to blend back in with the rest of his fist.

  Jaxon grinned, and flipped Benny off in return.

  But his mate didn’t smile.

  “I’m not the only one who needs you; wish I could say the same for myself. I’ll never get another chance and I won’t ask for help.” The song would sound better when it was sung by Stefan but Jaxon always liked hearing his own throaty voice before their team turned it into a production.

  That was it for now. It was awfully short but better than anything he’d come up with in a long time. He peeled off his headphones and spied Benny walking away so he tossed a flip-flop at the window. It plinked softly back to the ground. Useless rubber. Story of his life.

  He tossed the other one with the same effect. Benny was almost down the hallway, out of sight, so Jaxon went to the window to bang at it with his hands. But when he got there, he saw that Benny was already back at the front desk. His lips were moving so Jaxon gathered he was talking with someone out of his view. Good for Benny and whoever it was. Probably their fruit guy who brought bananas which Stefan somehow blended into flipping delicious smoothies.

  Benny knew better than to lead anyone back here down the hall.

  He didn’t want to be bothered with anyone else’s shit. Not while he was figuring out how to become a hero. He slid his butt down to the floor, back against the padded wall and half sang the words he’d hand over to Stefan to sing from his heart someday soon.

  “I only need her because she’s gone. I have no idea where she is and I couldn’t care less. You were always my chosen mess. I’m not the only one who needs you; wish I could say the same for myself. I’ll never get another chance if I won’t ask for help. Just change me, then someone can save me. I’m the mess. I’m the mess.”

  Jaxon’s toes wiggled in response to the gritty melody.

  I can never expect this kind of insane attention from another woman again.

  Man, he needed out of this room before he went bananas. From the ground, he pushed himself up and went to retrieve his flip-flops. His empty tummy urged him to wander out and snag some fruit before Benny ruined it in their blender.

  As he made his way down the hall, Jaxon saw that there was a girl standing at the front desk. This time he thanked God for the rubber sole that stopped his skidding step.

  That was no fruit man.

  He was about to disregard their visitor when the tantalizing back view of pale blonde hair tumbling into a teasing vee whacked his ability to do so. He should curse Benny for not adhering to the “No Blondes” policy. Jaxon took a long breath and backed out of view. But he stayed propped in the dark hallway and watched.

  What was it about this girl? Sure, her curves put her at knockout level and made him fond of her jeans. Tight jeans that hugged her so intimately in all the right places. His fingers would have to dig deep to get between her skin and the tight fitting material. Without thinking, he rubbed his fingertips into the palms of his hands like they were eight tiny fires he had to put out. Hell, it had been a solid decade since a girl’s figure had held him in place for this long. That couldn’t be it. Just then he heard her voice raise and those fingers he’d imagined touching her with fell motionless at his sides. It was crazy and strange, but she sounded like home. Like if every song he’d ever written had been sung by his feminine side, that’s exactly how it would sound. Holy shit.

  Shaken, he tugged his hand through his hair and inched further back, knowing he needed to do an about face and go pick that pen back up and pretend to be someone’s hero. That thought finally won out and he turned, not needing a final glance at what he was leaving up front. He added her memory to those who would haunt him for some time to come.

  He’d never felt like more of a coward than he did just then. He rubbed his eyes until it hurt.

  But staying away was the only way to keep women safe. He went back to knock out more of his song, apologizing to Stefan for the even darker-than-normal shit he was gonna have to sing. But like that voice he’d just heard trickle out from a faceless angel, it was right and it was what his heart ached to say. The thing his body burned for sat pouting in the corner of his mind. It was pissed he was denying them that angel, knowing damn well he could have had her with one look.

  Chapter Four

  Lily sat waiting in the car because Benny had asked her nicely to do so. That and it was obvious either someone in the studio didn’t want to see her, or didn’t want to be seen. That was okay for now because she still had a few days to convince Jaxon James he needed to come visit Tris and his daughter. She would not be intimidated by this elusive man who hadn’t bothered to come out and shake her hand just now.

  Benny stuck a key in the front door to the mission-styled, stucco studio behind him and fished another set of keys from the front of a very familiar, two-pocketed style vest she’d bet anything her sister had made. Its colorful stripes reminded Lily of bad wall paper from the old church daycare she used to attend but Benny’s loping stride left her with a much happier memory of that place. Musical chairs had been her favorite game as a little kid, running around on bare feet in the dry Oklahoma winter air, usually chasing after Tris. It still hurt to think that those good old days hadn’t necessarily been so good.

  But for sure, there hadn’t been a trace of ocean anywhere. Here, it smelled like a sandy, salty, mermaid heaven touched by the faint fragrance of honeysuckle. And it had saturated every expanding strand of her ridiculously wavy hair. Good thing she’d opted to stuff her small Stefan Calderon pillow in her bag and not a useless flat iron. Wherever she slept tonight, the pillow would be tucked between her knees and under her blanket as always. Her shoulders pulled in at the secret thought.

  She rubbed her fingers up her other arm and smoothed the sheer mist of dew into her skin. This was the l
ife, wasn’t it? How was she ever gonna get a rock star to leave this gig? Benny hadn’t even turned the key in the ignition and she already felt miles away from the impossible task.

  He bent down into the driver seat and with a lips-pulled-in grin, they were off.

  “So, where are we headed first?” she asked.

  “Have you eaten today?”

  To Lily’s dismay, Greyhound buses didn’t provide snacks. Neither did cab drivers following iffy directions she’d fished out of Lucky. “No, not yet.”

  “Then In’n’Out it is,” he said, backing up his answer with a grin and maybe a slurp or two.

  “Oh God, what’s In’n’Out?” She was excited to be in “Rock Star” California and all, but a meal at a strip club was not on her menu right now. God, that’s all the confidence sucker she needed, to have to eat around a bunch of sexy, bendy women.

  He thought about it for a second. “Like Sonic, only better.”

  She burst out laughing which seemed to diminish his fast food superiority grin quickly. “Oh, so burgers, huh? Well, we’ll see about that,” she challenged, feeling relieved.

  Gosh, he was so cute and friendly, not at all aware of his status and nothing like what she’d expected from anyone working for the bad boy rock gods of Sin Pointe. It didn’t mean Jaxon James would follow suit, but a girl could be hopeful…and then highly disappointed.

  That thought reminded her again of the husband she’d fled.

  Hopefully the final judgment papers of her divorce would be waiting at Tris’s when she got home. She knew it was silly to place so much importance on a sheet of paper but she’d never wanted to offer something to a burning fire and watch it go up in flames more. To say her marriage had been disappointing would be like calling the guys of her favorite band just all right in the deep, hot and sexy department. Her years wasted with Tom had been debilitating and Sin Pointe, namely Stefan Calderon, were…oh no, what if she met him this weekend? She blew out a charged breath and hoped Benny didn’t smell the lust. Man, who knew the more western state lines you crossed, the bolder you felt.