by Brooklyn Ann
Taking a deep breath, Klement slowly approached the box. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a dead cat.
Chapter Seven
Somehow Klement managed to keep his gorge down as he looked at the cat’s remains. Thank Christ it wasn’t one of his. Flea was black-and-white with medium long hair and yellow eyes. Geddy was a fluffy rich chocolate with white patches and a feather-duster tail. The one in the box was grey. And from the look of the poor animal, it had been hit by a car rather than suffered malicious torture or poisoning. A small relief.
Still, it hurt to see a dead animal. He loved cats. And who the fuck would send a dead cat to Cliff? That was, like, serial killer shit.
While the other two stood pale and shaking in the corners, Klement closed the box. “Did you get a good look at the guy who delivered it?”
Cliff shook his head. “He just looked like a regular delivery guy. It was dark and he was already heading back down the driveway.”
“What about his car?”
“Didn’t get a look at that at all.”
The singer resembled a deer in the headlights. Klement clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, “It’s okay, I’ll check the security cameras and see if I can get a plate number.”
Roderick rinsed his mouth before turning on the garbage disposal and cleaning his puke out of the sink. “Sorry about the mess, mate.”
Klement nodded and turned back to Cliff. “Do you still think it was one of your exes? Or are you already making a move on someone else’s girl?”
Cliff crossed his arms, automatically defensive. “Jesus, even I don’t move that fast unless we’re on the road.” Glancing back at the box, he let his shoulders slump. “I don’t know, man, none of them seemed this crazy, but you know women.”
Roderick pointed a trembling finger at the box. “What are we going to do with that? And should we call the cops?”
“No way, man.” Cliff waved his hands like a goalie blocking a ball. “I don’t need this shit getting in the news. And we don’t want them bothering Klement’s girls. He may be good with the medical marijuana requirements and have his dispensary license, but you know they’ll take one look at us and know he’s also using for recreation.”
Klement shook his head. His friends were more important to him than his crop. “I’m calling them anyway.”
Of course, the cops weren’t able to do much except agree that the cat was likely roadkill. They couldn’t find any prints on the box. They asked about suspects and motives, which, aside from Cliff’s ex-girlfriends, there weren’t any. Then they wrote down some info and took the copy of the security footage Klement made and went on their way. They didn’t seem inclined to do any snooping around the rest of his house, much less go near his grow room.
He buried the cat in his backyard beside an aspen tree then lured his own two cats inside with a can of tuna that had miraculously escaped his bandmates’ notice. He didn’t like the idea of them outside with a psycho running around. As if to reassure himself, he reached down and petted both Flea and Geddy, gratified by their purring.
By the time those tasks had been accomplished, Cliff and Rod were passed out in their rooms and he was too exhausted to do anything else but follow suit. The next morning he headed early to the studio.
Kat pulled up beside him shortly after he got out of his truck. After last night’s horror, it was a balm on his soul to see her smile as she exited her little car. He stood a moment and simply drank her in, admiring the obsidian sheen of her hair in the morning sunlight, the sparkle of her dark eyes, and how petite and utterly adorable she was. Funny, he’d only been into tall chicks before.
“Hey.” He strode over to her, drawn like a magnet. “How was your night?”
“Boring. I practiced the songs and wrote up a review on Deity’s latest album for the site.” She shifted back and forth on the pavement, still looking shy. “How about yours?”
There was no way he was going to freak her out about Cliff’s disturbing delivery. “Same here. I puttered around the house and tuned my bass. Are you all packed up to go to my place?”
She gestured to her car. He saw that the back was full of suitcases and duffel bags. A lot more than he would have thought necessary for a four-week stay.
As if sensing his scrutiny, she lifted her chin defensively. “I like having a lot of clothes.”
“That’s fine. I’m not judging.” He laughed. There was her spirit. Hopefully she was getting over all shyness around the band. “You ready to shred today?”
Kat opened her trunk and pulled out her guitar. “You know I am.”
The session went even better than the last. Without the distraction of Cliff standing next to her, Kat brought way more energy and focus to the songs. So much in fact, that Klement considered having her play yesterday’s songs again and mix them back in later. Or maybe even ditch the sound style he’d imagined for those.
Roderick stepped into the recording booth with doughnuts and coffee, eyeing Kat through the glass as she played the solo for “Fractured Dreamscape.” He grabbed an extra set of headphones and listened. “Damn, she is getting better.”
“I told you so.”
Klem couldn’t tear his eyes off of her, mesmerized by the rapidity of her dancing fingers upon the frets, her poise like a goddess raining down divine justice on those who dared oppose her will. His cock twitched in his pants. Taking a shuddering breath, he turned to Frank, the sound engineer, to see the guy staring at him like he’d grown an extra head.
“What?”
Frank inclined his head toward the mixing board. “She’s been playing for two whole minutes and you haven’t nagged me about my levels yet.”
Klement blinked. Was he so distracted that he’d missed something? He gave Frank an indifferent shrug and picked at a fraying hole in his jeans. “Well, you have them right for now, and she’s staying on cue and hasn’t missed a single riff yet. It’s a lucky take, don’t jinx it.”
Still, he willed himself to focus on her sound alone and even fiddled with the equalizer knob just a hair on a few parts so he felt like he was on the ball. He even had her do a few more takes on the next song, though he wasn’t sure they were needed.
When she rode off with Roderick to go pick up lunch, he couldn’t seem to concentrate on Cliff’s rhythm sections. Frank actually caught more mistakes than he did. Only through sheer force of will did he make it through the takes with any hope of something worth going through mastering.
Kat and Rod returned, and he found himself examining their faces for signs that anything had gone on between them. All he could see was her smile as she handed him a sandwich.
The rest of the day was a success. They made it through two lead guitar tracks and three rhythm sections before Cliff started moaning about his fingers and Kat’s eyes glazed over, despite her apparent determination to keep working. After they unhooked their guitars and packed up the gear, Klement headed over to Kat.
“Why don’t you follow me up to my place, and then you can unpack while I go grocery shopping?”
“Sounds good.” She hefted her guitar case and followed him out of the studio.
He climbed into his Suburban and drove to the exit of the parking lot, waiting for her to pull up behind him.
Her car didn’t move.
***
Kat cursed and turned the key again. The starter cranked, but the engine sputtered and wouldn’t fire up. Dread pooled in her belly.
No, not another problem, she ranted inwardly. Not right now. Not when everything is going so well.
Klement backed up beside her and called out through his window, “You all right?”
“My fucking car won’t start,” she said.
He turned off his engine and hopped out. “Let me see.”
She got out of her car and scooted the driver’s seat back as far as it would go. He slid in, looking like a giant in a clown car. It would have made her laugh under different circumstances.
He cranked the engin
e, listened and frowned. “The battery seems to have enough juice. Starter’s cranking fine. Is your gas gauge accurate?”
The back of her neck prickled at his inquisitive tone, though she didn’t know why. There was just this sense of familiarity, of déjà vu. “It was working this morning.”
Twisting like a contortionist, Klem reached down and popped the hood. When he got out of the car, he absently rubbed his lower back.
Kat lifted the hood and propped it up, eager to do anything but stand there like a dork. Her lungs tightened with helpless anxiety. Klement leaned over her shoulder, and her spine tingled with heat at his proximity. The tension within her abated for a moment.
“Try to fire it up again,” Klem said.
His long hair fell to caress his cheek. It looked so soft that Kat’s fingers itched to touch it, to brush the silken lock out of his face. Instead, she got back in her car, scooting the seat back up so she could reach the clutch pedal. Making sure she was in neutral, so if it did start, she wouldn’t run him over, she held her breath and turned the key. Her little Subaru made that same sickly sputtering noise, only now it cranked slower due to the continued use of the starter draining the battery.
Panic clawed at Kat’s chest once more. What was wrong with her car? Could it be fixed? What was she going to do without a vehicle? As if confirming her trepidation, the sunlight dimmed as clouds gathered in the sky.
Klement’s voice pulled her back to shore. “For some reason, you’re not getting any fuel. Your throttle body is bone dry.” His gaze met hers through the windshield. “Are you sure you’re not out of gas?”
Her eyes narrowed. Did he think she was a moron? “I filled her up the day before yesterday and barely drove her anywhere.”
He nodded and continued inspecting the car. “Your fuel filter looks like it’s clogged.”
He walked back to his Suburban, opened the back then immediately slammed it shut. “Fuck, I left my portable toolbox in my Fury. Oh well, it looks like this one needs metric tools anyway.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to have it towed to my place and then we’ll be able to figure out what’s going on.”
Kat cringed. Tow trucks were expensive. “Can you take it out of my pay?”
“Don’t worry about it. I have Triple A.” He gave her a warm smile and dialed. “We want to get it in the garage before it rains.”
As they waited for the tow truck, Kat warmed further at Klement’s kindness. After all the hard work he’d done at the studio, doubtless he was anxious to go home and relax. Instead, he was stuck here with her and her broken-down car. But rather than being grumpy with her and cussing like Richard had whenever she needed his help, Klement was handling the situation with competence and an easy nature that acted like a balm on her panic.
Still, her anxiety must be showing, because he patted her shoulder.
“Relax, it’s going to be okay.”
His light touch electrified her whole body.
“Thanks.” She got her purse out of her car and took a half a Xanax.
Klement called Roderick and explained what had happened. “Can you do me a favor and pick up some groceries while we’re dealing with it?” He paused a moment and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. Thanks, man.”
He hung up and turned to Kat. “Rod’s going to get some pizza from Angelo’s on his way back. They’re a little mom-’n’-pop place that’s amazing.”
Although food was the last thing on her mind, Kat was eternally grateful for the effort to make everything okay. “Pizza sounds great. Why does Roderick always get the food?”
“Because Cliff always forgets something and Rod likes to drive.” Klement shrugged. “Honestly, this time I meant to do the shopping.”
The tow truck pulled in, and he strode off to talk with the guy. As Kat’s car was loaded onto the bed, he nodded in satisfaction.
“Go ahead and climb in.” He pointed at his giant Suburban. “He’s going to follow us up there.”
Climb was an apt term. Kat headed over to the passenger side of the hulking vehicle. She could barely reach the door handle, and once she got the door open, it still took a big jump to get up to the seat. Laughing, Klement grabbed her hand and pulled her up.
“I didn’t think it was that high up.”
“Just for a short person.” She grinned. “It’s not a monster truck or anything. Thank you so much for helping me with my car.”
His long fingers curled around the shifter knob, and the engine fired up with the roar that only came from Fifties classics. “I told you, it’s no big deal. It’s probably just a clogged fuel filter. Only four or five bucks. Or it might be that you need to adjust the air/fuel mixture. Old cars like this don’t like the elevation up here.”
As he rattled off his theories, Kat felt another pulse in her core. She was wet again. Jerking her face to the window so he wouldn’t see her blush, she realized that, whatever this was, it had only to do with him. She remained in stunned silence the rest of the way to his house.
Klement had the tow-truck guy lower the car in a spot by his massive garage then opened one of the doors to reveal a collection of classic vehicles. Kat wasn’t as much into cars as Kinley, but she still found herself standing there, gaping in awe as Klem backed a big Fifties-looking car out onto the driveway. Long and sleek and black, it reminded her of the old Batmobile. She also caught glimpses of an old Volkswagen, some muscle car that looked kinda like Kinley’s Plymouth Duster, and a pickup that looked older than all of them.
Klement got out of the big black car, and she helped him push her Subaru into the garage, unable to stop staring at the enormous toolbox and plethora of shop equipment in the back. Klement yawned and stretched his arms high in the air. His tee shirt lifted so she could see a glimpse of his belly and hip-bone muscles.
“I’m going to have some coffee and smoke a bowl before I pull the filter, okay?”
Kat swallowed, mouth dry at the teasing view. “Okay.” She grabbed a few of her bags and so did he.
Cliff came out of the house, shirtless and hair wet from a shower. “You made it. Anything I can do?” He gave Kat a deliberate look and actually flexed his pecs.
She bit her lip to avoid laughing. After all the years of mooning over her poster of him, his body, impressive as it was, had no effect on her, except to notice that his abs were slightly diminished, likely from all the beer. No, instead she was still picturing that brief line of flesh Klement had exposed.
“You can grab the rest of Kat’s bags from that little green wagon.” Klem pointed back at the garage. “I’m going to get her settled in her room.”
When they entered the house, Kat bit back a gasp. The hardwood floors gleamed and the countertops sparkled. He’d cleaned the place! Had he done it for her? Warmth prickled through her at the thought.
Her room was also pristine, with a queen-sized bed adorned with a fluffy blue comforter, a rich cherry-wood dresser and matching desk and end table.
“Will this do?”
He actually looked like he was worried she wouldn’t approve. His glittering blue eyes made her suck in another breath.
“Oh yes, it’s beautiful. Thank you.”
He set her bags on the bed. “I’ll let you get settled while Cliff and I go puff. Let me know if you need anything.”
When the guys went upstairs to smoke weed, Kat went out on the deck and called Kinley. Her friend was the only woman she could trust to talk about whatever was going on with her body.
Just as she was about to hang up, thinking Kin was unavailable, her friend answered.
“Hey, Kat.”
Even though she was alone, Kat spoke quietly. “Hey, are you somewhere private?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Something really weird is going on.” She took a deep breath and described how she’d been talking with Klement in the studio last night and got wet out of nowhere. “He wasn’t even flirting with me or anything. Then, when I was riding with
him to follow the tow truck, he was speculating about what’s wrong with my car and it happened again.”
The line was silent for a long time.
“Kinley?”
“OH MY GOD!” Kinley burst out so loud Kat had to pull the phone away from her ear. “You want him!”
“What?” Kat gasped as the words struck her. That was the logical explanation, but she usually knew when she was crushing on a guy. And she’d never become aroused just talking with one about regular stuff. She’d always needed some flirting, some foreplay. Plus, this was Klement they were talking about. He was, for all practical purposes, her boss.
“I think I’d know if I did.” A defensive tone crept in her voice. “I mean, Klement’s cute and smart and has been very kind, but—”
Kin cut her off. “But you couldn’t stop talking about him last time and you can’t stop talking about him now. I mean, you called him a geeky Viking.”
“That wasn’t exactly a term of endearment.”
Kinley snorted. “C’mon. Comparing a guy to a Viking in any form is saying he’s a hottie.”
“But I’ve liked Cliff forever,” Kat protested feebly, even as she realized how silly it sounded to argue about it.
“And now?”
Kat closed her eyes and thought of her last few days with the singer she’d used to pine for. She felt absolutely nothing. “There’s zero chemistry between us.” She shook her head at her own fickle emotions. “I mean, he stole my solo.” Kinley laughed as Kat continued on, explaining the real source of her anxiety. “But I was relieved about my infatuation for one of the band members going away because that guaranteed I’d stay professional.” And now it seemed she’d become infatuated with one of the others.
More laughter echoed across the line. “Good luck with that.”
“It’s not funny.” She thought about Kinley’s words and then her reaction to Klement. She thought of his smile, his kindness, his tall, lean body and gorgeous hair. Her heart clenched and her stomach fluttered in a way she could no longer deny. “Fuck, Kin. You’re right. I have it for him big-time. What the hell should I do?”
“How should I know? I’m not exactly an expert on this sort of thing.”
