“What did you say?”
The voice behind her made Melanie freeze. She turned around slowly and found herself staring into Gina’s wide and angry brown eyes.
Melanie felt the blood rush from her head to her feet and wondered how convenient it would be to faint right now. Oh, screw it. What good would that do? She’d already made a fool of herself with Taz. This was just icing on the cake. She straightened. Resigned but proud. “You heard me,” she shot back, leveling a stare right back at that woman. “We aren’t a couple. We barely know each other. The whole thing is a big fat lie, because you are such a—”
“Stop!”
The word burst from Taz. To say he was mad would be like saying the North Pole was cold or Mount Everest was tall. He was seething. His nostrils were flaring like a Spanish bull about to charge.
“Just stop,” he repeated, more calmly. “You’re making a scene.”
She looked around. He was right. Everyone around them was looking in their direction. Her rage ebbed… until she saw Blond, Built, and Feathered trying to hide her face behind her hand, looking as if this were some unfortunate episode in her otherwise ultra-glamorous life. And looking at her with pity.
That changed everything.
Fresh rage filled Melanie. “Yeah, I’ll stop,” she snapped back with venom. “There’s no need to get upset, right? That wasn’t part of the bargain, was it? That wasn’t part of our deal.”
She turned and stormed into the crowd. She didn’t have a direction, but somehow she ended up at the bar.
“A Sonic whatchamacallit,” she said to the bartender when she caught her eye.
“Oh, my God, are you all right?”
It took a moment for Melanie to realize the comment was directed at her. She looked over her shoulder, and the alien cantina twins were standing behind her.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled back, trying to sound like it were true.
“That must have been really awful for you,” the chattier one said.
“It probably looked worse than it was,” she replied. She paid the bartender, and took another gulp.
“If you say so,” the young woman said. “Losing Taz Roman to his ex-girlfriend—”
Melanie picked up her drink. “Don’t you get it? I didn’t lose anything. We had a deal. He said he’d help me with my Divas audition, if I played nice. That’s all it was.”
The two women exchanged funny looks. The chattier one said, “So it was an arrangement? Like friends with benefits?”
“Yeah,” Melanie said, but over their shoulders something caught her eye. “Yeah, something like that. I gotta go.”
She took her drink and walked up to the tall, furry gladiator who was watching her from beneath a potted palm. Maybe she could salvage something of the night. Maybe she didn’t have to go home alone and rejected after all.
She settled in beside him and said in her sexiest voice, “I hope this seat isn’t taken.”
“No way, sugar,” he said. “It’s been waiting for you all night.”
| 33
Melanie was still on the couch, beneath a pile of borrowed blankets, when Abby returned from her Sunday morning class at the dance studio.
“You can’t sleep all day,” she said, pulling back the vertical blinds and letting the sunshine spill into the living room.
Melanie scooted farther beneath the blankets.
“C’mon,” Abby said, “I’ll make you some pancakes, and you can tell me what happened. You can start by telling me why you were with a guy dressed as a dog in a gladiator costume. I thought you and Taz were going to the Pandemonium.”
“We were. I mean, we did,” Melanie grumbled, pushing herself to a sitting position. She instantly regretted it. Hangovers were a bitch.
“So what happened?” Abby said between the incredibly loud and painful clanking of pots and pans in the kitchen.
“His ex-girlfriend showed up, and Taz’s sister found out we were faking the relationship.”
“His ex blew your cover with his sister? That sucks.” She walked out of the kitchen, holding a pancake box in each hand. “Blueberry or plain?”
“Plain,” she said. “She didn’t do it.”
“What?”
“It’s complicated,” Melanie muttered. The whole horrid ordeal was coming back, despite her efforts to wash it away with alcohol. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Of course,” her friend said. “But I’m curious. If his ex didn’t blow your cover, how did his sister find out?”
“It was me, all right? I did it. He was acting like an ass, like I wasn’t even there.” Oh, God. She regretted the words the instant they were out.
Abby didn’t say anything at first. But then she came out of the kitchen holding a plate full of pancakes soaked with syrup that she set on the coffee table, along with a fork and a knife. She dropped into the chair beside the couch. “So you were mad that he wasn’t paying attention to you?”
“Yeah, sort of. I don’t know. I guess.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” she said, digging into the food in front of her. “It means he’s a class-A jerk.”
Abby shook her head. “It means you fell for him.”
“No, I didn’t.” Melanie speared a piece of pancake on her fork and then another. “He might not be as bad as I thought he was, but I didn’t fall for him. I’m not that stupid.”
Was she? Maybe for a minute, but not now.
“Okay, tell me what he did. Exactly.”
“Why? So you can tell me what I already know?”
“Just humor me, all right?”
“Fine,” she said and gave her friend the gritty details of the whole disaster.
When she finished, Abby stood and paced the living room, squeezing her lower lip in contemplation.
Melanie finished her pancakes.
Finally, Abby planted her hands on the back of the chair. “I hate to tell you this, but I think you’re wrong. I think all that alcohol, your jealousy, or whatever it was messed with your head. All he did was talk to his ex. You’re the one who left him alone with her. He never asked you to leave, did he?”
It felt like he wanted her to leave.
“Whose side are you on?”
“Yours! That’s why I’m telling you you’re crazy to give up over this. You obviously like him, and it seems to me—after everything you’ve said—that he probably has feelings for you too, because he had plenty of chances and plenty of reasons to tell you to get lost, and he didn’t.”
“Of course he did,” Melanie protested. “I mean, he practically did. When he didn’t—”
“When he didn’t what? Blow off that woman fast enough for you? Refuse to speak to her, even though his sister probably dragged the poor woman halfway across the state? I’m sure he felt sorry for her. Seriously, Melanie, put yourself in his shoes.”
Melanie opened her mouth to snap back another reply but clamped it shut instead. Her arguments weren’t making sense anymore, not even to herself. No wonder her love life was always in shambles.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
Abby softened and smiled. “You could start by talking to him.”
Melanie dropped her head in her hands and rubbed her eyes. “I suppose you’re going to say I should apologize, too.”
“I think you should start by just talking. The rest is up to you.”
| 34
The streetlight in front of Taz’s house was out, making the cul-de-sac especially dark. Melanie pulled up along the curb. The gate was open, and she could see most of the windows were dark, except for one on the first floor. The Porsche was there, but the Escalade was gone. That was a relief. At least she wouldn’t be running into Gina.
She ignored the voice inside telling her this was a mistake. The voice that kept her on the couch all day, drowning her hangover in gallons of water and pain relievers. Maybe Abby was right. Maybe she had gotten it all wrong last night. There was o
nly one way to find out.
She focused on what she’d say: that she was sorry, that she shouldn’t have stormed off. She’d tell him she’d been wrong and ask his forgiveness.
He could take it from there.
She walked up the pathway to the front door and spied him through the window, descending the stairs and turning toward the living room. He was gesturing, speaking to someone. Uh-oh. Gina was still there. That changed things.
That someone rounded the corner from the kitchen. Without her costume, it took a moment to recognize Tamara, looking fresh and clean. The gauzy pink dress she had on was even more flattering to her long, lean figure than that damn Big Bird Barbie costume.
Melanie stood still, her heart thudding like a jackhammer in her chest. She’d never be able to talk to him in front of Tamara. Hell, if that woman was here, there was no point in talking to him at all. She pinched her eyes shut. She should leave. She wanted to leave, but it was all she could do to stay on her feet. She closed her eyes and tried to get a grip on herself. If only every inch of her wasn’t on the verge of crumpling to the ground. All she wanted to do was curl into a ball and shut everything out.
At first, the yipping sounded a million miles away. It took a few seconds to realize it was Spike on the other side of the door, barking her little canine head off. Shit! Melanie stumbled back and planted her foot in a hydrangea bush. “Damn it!” The words slipped out in a coarse whisper, but it was enough to send the dog into a heightened barking frenzy. Through the window, she saw Taz walking toward the door.
A spotlight hit her. Wait, no, not a spotlight. It was headlights. Melanie shielded her eyes and saw they were connected to the giant white Escalade pulling into the driveway.
Of course. Gina.
Melanie yanked her wedged-sandaled foot from the hydrangea tangle and stood with her hands up like a thief caught in a police sting.
“What are you doing here?”
Taz was standing in the open doorway, holding the still-yipping Spike in her arms. His voice was calm, but he didn’t look happy to see her. Not in the slightest.
The dog squirmed out of his grasp, jumped to the ground, and raced to Melanie. She jumped to her kneecaps with loving excitement. It was impossible not to smile.
Before she could respond to Taz, Gina interjected: “You have a lot of nerve showing up here.” She climbed down from the Escalade’s passenger seat.
Taz leveled a hard stare at his sister. “Gina, that’s enough.”
“No, Tazarian, it’s not enough. Not after what she did to you.”
Tamara chose that moment to peek out from behind Taz, wrap her long arms around his shoulders and coo, “Oh, it’s you.”
That was all it took. Whatever hope Melanie had that she had misread Taz the night before was gone, vanished, poof!
“I just came for my stuff,” she lied, “but obviously it was a mistake.” She set down Spike, and the dog whimpered. It was comforting to know she hadn’t misread everybody. She inched back toward the street. “If you could just drop my things off at the Shimmy Shop, that would be great.”
She was about to add an apology, but the words stuck in her throat. Tears welled in her eyes. Damn it! She wasn’t going to cry. She was not going to cry. She forced back the waterworks and forced her body not to betray her pain. She wasn’t going to give any of them that satisfaction.
She spun around and hurried to the street. The pain seared through her like a hot knife, tearing apart every one of her hopes. By the time she reached her car, the tears dripped from her cheeks. She started the engine and pulled away. No one could see, none of them were even coming after her. In an instant, she knew she was utterly and completely alone.
| 35
“Was that the girl?” Tamara asked in a saccharine tone.
“Yeah, that was Melanie,” Taz replied. He removed the arm she had wrapped around his neck like a python.
Tamara scoffed. “She sure is a drama queen. You’d think she thought you were a real couple or something.” She laughed her usual fake half-laugh, as if the idea were absurd. “You don’t think she was getting the wrong idea, do you?”
Taz ignored her. Instead he bent down to scoop up Spike, who was whimpering and shivering at his ankle.
“I say good riddance,” Gina added, clicking the key fob in her hand and making the Escalade chirp. “I can’t believe she had the audacity to show her face around here. I think she knows now she isn’t welcome.”
“No kidding,” Tamara chimed in. “Good riddance.”
Taz clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. The pain at his temples was getting worse. He needed an aspirin or a shot of whiskey. Maybe both.
“At least it’s over,” his sister said. “You should count your blessings that it wasn’t worse.”
How in the world could it be worse? He didn’t say the words. He rubbed between Spike’s ears instead.
“I second that,” Tamara said. “Anyone else hungry? I’m starving.”
“You guys enjoy the pizza,” he said and dug in his pocket for his keys.
“Where are you going?” Tamara asked.
He handed Spike to her, but the dog wiggled until Tamara set her inside the door. He watched Spike race back inside. That dog might be small, but she sure was smart.
He pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’m going for a drive.”
“Can you at least get the box from the back seat?” Gina asked and blew on her nails. “I stopped for a manicure...”
That’s how she’d turned what should have been a ten-minute pizza run into an hour-long event. More games. More bullshit. He opened the Porsche’s driver’s side door and slid in behind the wheel. “I’m sure you’ll manage. You always do.”
“When will you be back?” Tamara whimpered.
He slammed the door. “I don’t know,” he said. He gunned the engine, and rolled onto the street without another look.
He had to get away. He had to think.
| 36
When Melanie pulled into the parking lot at Abby’s apartment complex, she saw her friend walking to her car with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder.
Melanie flagged her down. “Where are you going?”
Abby hiked up the bag. “I’m staying at Derek’s tonight. I figured it would be better than having him come here.”
Melanie must have looked guilty, because Abby quickly added, “It’s not a problem at all. I love having you here. And actually, he prefers it when I stay with him. He won’t say it, but I know he misses the maid service when he’s here. How did it go with Taz?”
“Don’t ask.”
“That bad, huh?” Abby looked away like she was sorry she’d asked.
“Hey, who cares, right? We had a fake relationship, so really it’s just a fake break-up. No biggie.” If only it felt like no biggie.
Abby opened the car door. “That’s the right attitude. Hey, go ahead and help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. I also brought home a couple more old movies from the shop, if you’re interested. Are you going to be all right on your own?”
Melanie ignored the gnawing feeling in her gut. The blackness pressing down on her. She scoffed. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
She could tell Abby didn’t believe it. She didn’t blame her. She didn’t really believe it, either.
“All right,” Abby said warily. “Call me on my cell if you need anything.”
“Go. Have fun.” Melanie waved her off. “Tell Derek ‘hi’ for me.”
“Okay, ’night,” Abby said.
“’Night.” Melanie waved and headed for the apartment.
Two seconds later, she heard Abby holler, “Hey, Melanie!”
She turned back.
Abby hadn’t moved, and that worried look was still in her eyes. “I wasn’t going to say anything, because it’s just stupid gossip, but I think you should know, especially if Taz has already seen it. It sounds like he probably has.”
Melanie frowned. “Seen what?”
“Like I said, it’s stupid, and everyone will know it’s a total lie, but you should probably check out the Scribbling Gypsy blog. There are some pictures from the Pandemonium Ball that you should see. Go ahead and use my computer.”
All the terrible images came flooding back. The argument in the ballroom, the anger in Taz’s eyes and the fury in Gina’s. Those bloggers had been with her at the bar. They’d been friendly, even after the fight. “All right. I’ll check it out.”
“Call me if you want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” she said, but that only heightened her fear. How bad was it?
She let herself into the apartment with the spare key and bolted for the laptop Abby kept on her dinner table. She turned it on and drummed her fingers, waiting for the thing to boot up. It felt like an eternity before she could open the browser and type in the blog’s address.
When the page came up, there were pictures from the party. Portraits of some of the costumes she’d seen. Many she hadn’t. She scrolled down and found the one they’d taken of the Divas. All those happy, smiling faces. And then there was one of Taz, with Tamara, holding drinks and staring wide-eyed like a hunted animal caught in a trap.
A headline read, Taz the Romancer’s Dirty Little Secret.
Her heart dropped.
Below it, she read: We’ve always known Taz Roman is bad news, but it’s even worse than we thought. A source tells us the local heartbreaker is now offering to pull strings at the upcoming auditions in return for certain favors—yes, those kinds of favors. Beware, ladies!
Then it went on to other pictures, but Melanie couldn’t see them. She couldn’t see anything besides Taz’s wide-eyed surprised expression.
This was all her fault. Her and her big, fat, stupid mouth.
No wonder he wouldn’t speak to her. No wonder Gina wanted to rip her head off.
She needed to talk to him.
But trying that had already blown up in her face. Still, she grabbed her phone and scrolled. Huh? Oh, yeah. She’d only talked to him on Abby’s studio phone.
Romance: Dance with Me (California Belly Dance Romance Book 2) Page 12
