“Come in here. We’ve been waiting.”
We?
I’d already seen Dad disappear into one of the greenhouses out back. My parents are organic farmers. Two of the best. Together they can grow just about anything. And they do, even when no one else can due to weather conditions. It’s their talent. Growing plants.
There’s a cinnamon-scented candle burning, and there’s a fire in the fireplace.
Shit. These are not the signs of a woman intent on working in her greenhouses all day. No. She has company.
“Honey.” Mom tugs me into the kitchen and waves at a middle-aged woman dressed in a bright red dress with lipstick to match. “You remember Francie, don’t you?”
I don’t, but I nod anyway because I know she expects me to.
“Your father’s Navy buddy Don. She’s his wife. They visited about three years ago.”
A vague recollection of a family dinner comes to mind. “Sure. Hello, Francie. Nice to see you again.” I hold out my hand.
She takes it, pumping with surprising strength. The woman isn’t an inch over five feet two and can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.
“Oh, my dear. You just get more handsome every year. I bet the girls are lined up a mile long trying to fill your dance card.” She gives me an exaggerated wink.
“Uh, maybe not a mile long.” Extracting my hand from hers, I give her a tight smile. “Welcome back to Mendocino.” I turn to Mom. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Before I can make my escape, she slips her arm through mine, holding me in place. “Francie is actually here to see you.”
I stand still and really take a look at the older woman. She’s been smiling since I got here, but for the first time, I notice the edge of pain buried behind her facade. I know, because it’s the same one I’ve been wearing for the past eighteen months. Empathy courses through me, and I take her hand once more, leading her to my mother’s green-and-white pinstriped couch. “What is it I can do for you, Miss Francie?” I ask gently.
Her big green eyes mist with unshed tears and her hand starts to shake. Unease takes up residence in my chest. I know from experience what’s coming, and I shoot Mom a sharp look of admonishment.
“I’m terribly sorry to ask,” Francie says, her voice barely audible. She clears her throat, and when she speaks, she’s stronger. More sure. “Grace says you’re taking a break from your portraits in order to pursue other art interests, but I don’t have anyone else I can ask.”
“I have friends I can recommend—”
“No,” she says firmly. “Thank you, but please just hear me out.”
Mom frowns at me. Short of getting up and stalking out, there isn’t much else I can do. I nod.
She nods back. “You may know that my Don is starting cancer treatments soon.”
I nod again. Seems Dad mentioned something about it.
“Well, I’d really like to get a portrait done of us now, before the treatments progress. Before his body starts changing. I need someone who can see the real us. To really bring us to life.” Her voice cracks on the word life. “It might be the last… Well, it’s just that now is the time.”
A lump of emotion clogs my throat. After the memories that haunted me this morning, this request is too much. I work my throat and force out, “Miss Francie, I wish I could help, but—”
“Oh, dear.” She squeezes my hand. “I can see this is hard for you. After Elsa—”
I wince at the use of E’s actual name. I don’t use it anymore, and everyone around me knows not to.
“I’m sorry,” the older woman says. She looks so dejected I don’t even know what to say.
Mom scoots forward in the chair she’s perched on. “Seth, honey, can you at least think about it?”
I avert my gaze. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“But you have to start painting again at some point.”
I jump to my feet, anger boiling up from deep inside me. “Mother,” I say in a careful voice. “We’ve been over this. E is dead. My paintings will never be the same. Without her, the thing that makes them special and unique is gone. Buried with her. You can’t know what it’s like. Dad is still here, but just try for a moment to think about how you’d feel about growing your plants if he wasn’t around to share it with you.” My fists are clenched and by the time I’m done, my head aches. If she doesn’t stop pushing, I’m going to have to move. Where, I don’t know. I can’t bring myself to give up my house, and at the same time, I can’t bring myself to live there. Hence the reason I mostly live at my parents’ place instead of my own.
“Honey,” Mom says.
“No, Mom,” I snap and turn to Miss Francie. Softening my tone, I say, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. If you need a recommendation, I have a friend who can probably help you out.”
Francie stares at me, her eyes wide and her mouth open in shock.
I can’t stay here. Not with this guilt eating away at me. Without another word, I stalk through the house and back out to the street. I’m four hours early, but with nowhere else to go, I head to the edge of town to the only place I ever find refuge. The tattoo shop.
Chapter Nine
Lucy
I have the key in the lock when I hear the phone ringing inside. Rolling my eyes, I slip into Dad’s house… Well, my house now. It’s been six months since I lost him and it still feels like it isn’t real. He’s everywhere here, from the built-in bookshelves lining the living room, to the collection of underwater photography hanging on the wall.
Dad’s old answering machine—the one he’d refused to change out for a service—clicks on. His warm voice fills the room. “You’ve reached the Moores. Lucy and Mack can’t come to the phone. Leave us a message.”
Tears burn the backs of my eyes and the hollow feeling in my chest intensifies. It’s always the same, yet I can’t bring myself to change the greeting. I can’t erase Dad’s voice. It’s the same message we’ve had ever since Mom moved out eight years ago. Dad hadn’t even changed it when he’d taken a temporary job out of the country and I’d been forced to move in with Mom and her husband during my last few years of high school.
“Lucy!” Mom shrills into the phone. “Where are you? Are you there? Pick up.”
I stare at the blinking light on the machine. How many times has she called since last night?
“Lucile, this is not a game.” Her tone is lower, more controlled. Her pissed voice. “Cadan came all the way from Denver to see you last night, and you ran out on him. How long are you going to keep this up? He’s not going to wait for you forever, you know. You’re messing up your life.”
My heart starts to hammer and something breaks inside me. I’m used to her rants. Mom is forever telling me how to live my life. Mostly I’ve learned to block her out, but this morning, with my emotions all over the place, I can’t take it. I can’t take her. Blood rushes to my head and I feel like it’s going to explode. Before I can stop myself, the phone’s in my hand and the words fly. “He won’t wait forever? He didn’t wait at all, Mother. Jesus fucking Christ. I caught him having sex with two other girls. I wasn’t even out of the picture before he started sticking his dick in other people.”
“Lucile,” Mom scolds. “Don’t you dare talk to your mother that way.”
I snort into the phone. There it is. The mom card. She pulls that one out on a regular basis in an effort to guilt me into her way of thinking. When is the last time she ever gave a shit about what I want? “Really? That’s all you have to say? Have you even once considered what it must be like for me? To have my soul mate cheat on me? And having to choose between my sanity and my career?”
“Now, honey. I know he made a mistake. But he’s sorry. It’s hard finding your partner when you’re just nineteen. You both have some growing to do. If you do it together, it will mean more later.”
&n
bsp; “A mistake? That’s what you’re calling it?” She has lost her mind. I can’t believe I’m hearing this from her. And yet, at the same time, it shouldn’t surprise me. She has always defended her life choices with the idea that no one should live without their soul mate. “Has Randy made a mistake? Did you forgive him?”
Mom doesn’t say anything for a minute, and I wonder if I’ve hit a nerve.
“I’ll call you later after you’ve had a chance to think about the things you’ve said to me. And if you have any sense, you’ll call Cadan. You’re not only throwing away the one person who’ll love you forever, but there’s also a lot of money on the line. You’re going to mess up your life if you walk away from him and your record deal.”
I clutch the phone until it creaks under my grip. “The one person who’ll love me forever? Where does that leave you, Mom?” Before she has a chance to answer, I gently place the phone back on the receiver. Totally numb, I climb the stairs and head for the shower.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I step under the stream of water. As the spray sluices over me, flashbacks of the night before start to fill my mind. Jeez! What had I done? Had hot sex with an incredibly sexy, gorgeous guy I didn’t even know. That’s what I’d done. And it had been glorious and exactly what I’d needed to get Cadan out of my mind. Then I’d run out without so much as a good-bye. I figured he’d prefer it that way. But that was before I realized he was watching me from the second-story window.
I’d woken up with the sunrise, an annoying habit I’d developed ever since I’d gotten back home. It’s because I like to sleep with the window cracked so I can hear the ocean. If I keep the blinds down, the wind makes them slam against the casings, keeping me awake. Since the house is on the side of a hill facing the ocean, there isn’t a pressing need for privacy, but the sun does make it difficult to sleep in.
Once I find my phone and turn it on, I see eight texts from Jax and a dozen from Cadan. The last two were a confirmation from them both that Cadan left town. He’s pissed. But who cares? I don’t want to see him, and I’m not the cheater.
Though spending the night with Seth does make me feel slightly guilty. I hadn’t really believed I’d ever be with anyone else. Not even after I’d caught Cadan with the two skanks who’d already worked their way through the rest of the band members.
Angry all over again, I turn the water to scalding. Just thinking about Cadan with them makes my stomach turn. Thirty minutes later, my skin red and tender, I pad into my room and pull on yoga pants, an oversized sweater, and slippers. It’s my intention to stay in all day by the fire.
Back downstairs, I rustle around in the kitchen, putting together an omelet. Eggs, tomatoes, goat cheese, and avocado. Perfect. I’m about to crack one of the eggs when the house phone starts ringing again. I let out a long-suffering sigh. Only two people call me on that phone these days, and I want nothing to do with either of them right now.
When the machine beeps, Mom says, “You should probably think about changing the message on the machine, Luce. It’s not healthy.”
My fist clenches around the egg and… crack. The gooey mess drips down my hand.
“But that’s not why I called,” Mom continues. “Pick up the phone.”
I glare at it.
“Lucy, you’re being a child. I said pick up the phone.”
Not even if Ed McMahon himself were on the other end.
“Fine. Don’t talk to me.” She’s angry now, but when she speaks again, her voice cracks. “What if something happens to me, too? You’re going to be all alone. Then what will you do?” The machine beeps, indicating she’s hung up.
“Goddammit!” I cry, slamming my hand down on the counter. I accidently hit the bowl and it crashes to the floor, shattering ceramic shards over the tile. The destruction is oddly satisfying. Mom is the queen of guilt and has a way of making everything about her. This latest round about Dad’s message is because the sound of his voice makes her uncomfortable. She tells me how weird it is every time she gets a chance. I think it’s because she still has guilt for leaving him. Not because he’s gone.
I creep through the kitchen to the hall closet and pull out a broom. But all I want to do is keep smashing things. I suck in a deep breath. Letting her get to me isn’t helping. The walls go up around my emotions as I methodically clean the kitchen floor. When I’m done, I take a seat at the kitchen bar. The layout is such that I’m facing a wall of windows, and the view is stunning. Dad’s house is at the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. Fixated on the rhythmic pounding of waves, I press the Play button on the answering machine.
“Lucy,” Mom says.
I hit the Delete button, cutting her off. The machine beeps.
“Lucile—”
Delete.
The next four messages are Mom. As with the first two, I delete before I hear what she has to say. Mom has a habit of calling over and over until I pick up. Considering I was gone for sixteen hours, it’s amazing there are only six.
The seventh, however, is Cadan. I haven’t spoken to him since the day I walked out on him three months and eighteen days ago. He’s certainly tried to get in touch with me, but I changed my number after dodging his calls for two weeks straight.
“Hey, Luce,” his tone is quiet, gentle. “It feels like forever since I’ve heard your voice.”
My finger is hovering over the Delete button, but I can’t do it. After all these months, I suddenly have to know what he has to say. How could he possibly justify what he did?
“Damn.” He sighs. “I miss you.”
Tears fill my eyes. It’s the first time I’ve cried over him since I found out about his cheating. I wipe angrily at my eyes and sniff.
“I fucked up. I know that. You have no idea how much I regret my bad choices. Nothing is the same without you.”
Of course it isn’t. When we sing together, our voices have an effect on people. We touch them deeply, make them feel things in ways they never have before. It’s like magic. Apart, we’re just two people who can carry a note or two. Our fans have to be disappointed. And even though my heart wants to believe what he says, my head says it’s more likely he’s only calling because it’s affecting both of our careers.
“I know you’re not going to like it, but I talked to your mom. Please, Luce, don’t be upset about that. I had to get your new number. I have to talk to you.”
There’s a pause and then he adds, “I’m in California. I took a break from the tour. I can’t keep singing without you.” There’s a click and one final beep.
The tears are flowing freely now, but I do nothing to stop them. The anger I’d been surviving on is gone. Only sadness remains. Pain for what was and won’t be again. Cadan had been my best friend, my lover, my partner. Now he’s just a cheater and a thief. It’s not something I’m going to get over. I’ll never trust him again. He trampled all over everything that was important to me.
My cell phone, sitting on the bar, buzzes. I’m almost afraid to look. A message from Cadan will be too much. Another message comes through and I can’t help but look.
Jax.
I snatch the phone, desperate to focus on something else.
The string of messages starts with dude.
I’m dying.
Help.
Worst. Hangover. Ever.
I chuckle and thank God I stopped drinking before I got drunk enough to suffer her fate. My cheeks heat as I recall what I did instead. I’m both embarrassed and impressed with myself. Jax has been saying I need to get out more. Though I doubt she meant get naked with the first hot guy who showed interest. Crap. She’s going to kill me when she finds out. She’s told me three times not to get involved with Seth. She’s worried about being caught in the middle. But she has nothing to worry about. I already know he’s a one-nighter. And I’d made it easy on him.
Bring chai and sweet-potato fries.
Jax’s preferred hangover remedy. I text back, Be there in forty-five minutes.
Thirty.
Oh boy. She’s in bad shape. I run up the stairs, stuff my feet in my running shoes, and fly out the door.
Chapter Ten
Seth
I can’t stop thinking about Miss Francie. The character and the history in her face calls to me, makes my fingers itch to sketch her. And what must Don look like these days? No doubt he’s equally as fascinating. I bend over the piece of flash I’m working on and shade in the eyes of a silver wolf.
“Yo, Keenan, what happened after you and Lucy left last night?” Mike calls from the station two booths over. His tattoo gun buzzes under his administration.
I glance up, catching the eye of Sadie Sanders, the girl he’s working on. She’s a regular. Her arm is half-covered in sunflowers. Mike’s been building a garden sleeve on her right arm one bloom at a time.
Her lips turn up in a slow, seductive smile. “Hey, Seth. How about that drink tonight?”
Biting back a grimace, I shake my head, trying for apologetic. “Sorry, Sadie. I’ve already got plans.”
The light in her eyes dims a little. She’s asked me out four times now. I’ve declined each invitation. “Maybe next time.”
“Yeah, sure,” I lie. Was it so hard for her to take a hint? I don’t date locals. Especially ones who were friends with E.
“Well?” Mike presses. “I saw the light on at your house.”
He says the last part as a statement, but it’s really a question. The house I’d claimed to be my sister’s is mine. She stays there when she’s in town, but that’s rare these days. Most of her time is spent in San Francisco now that she’s met her soul mate. She comes home to work on the books for the family business a couple of times a month, but that’s it.
“I didn’t think she’d appreciate being subjected to Grace and Leo. Besides, Marty was supposed to pick her up.”
Rockers After Dark: 6 Book Bundle of Sexy Musicians Page 8
