by Jae Dawson
“Are you shitting me?” Cade twisted in his seat to better see me. “I never would have found the guitar if I hadn’t killed every eardrum by playing violin in fifth grade. And the musicals gave me confidence, introduced me to song-writing . . .” He shook his head. “It was the most important part of my education. Oh, turn right on Alder, the next stop sign.”
“You’re preaching to the choir.” I turned onto a quiet, residential street.
He was quiet for a moment. “Can I help? Non-mandatory community service help . . .”
The genuine request caught me off guard. “Maybe. I’ll think on it.”
“I mean, I know I’m just a shallow, narcissistic asshole—”
I shoved his shoulder. “I never said you were a shallow, narcissistic asshole—”
“Right, just all rock stars, of which I am one.” Cade grinned. “You can see my confusion.”
I let out a long-suffering sigh.
“It’s that blue house there, on the right. Just pull over here.”
I did as instructed.
He turned toward me and leaned in.
My stomach clenched and my breath hissed in. Was he going to . . . but no. He was just reaching in the back for his hoodie. Relief welled in me. Mingled with disappointment. No, I scolded myself. Just. Relief. Stupid body.
“Thanks for the ride, Ms. Pagano.” He grabbed for the door handle.
“Cade, wait!” Damn it, I didn’t want him to go yet. But my brain was curiously blank as he regarded me with those dark blue eyes.
“Yeah? . . .” The way his lips quirked into a humored smirk shook me out of my Cade-induced daze. Even his arched eyebrows seemed to be playfully mocking me.
I took in a slow breath, then asked, “Why were you walking today?”
His face fell. “Oh. Uh, my license got suspended.”
“So, you’ve been walking this whole way to every rehearsal and back?”
“It’s not so bad. When it’s not raining, that is,” he amended.
Which it would be for the foreseeable future, especially as it got later into October. A decision coalesced inside me, even as another part of me said I was being crazy.
“I can’t bring you in, as I’ll already be at school. But I can at least give you a ride home every day.”
He bit his lip. God, it was sexy when he did that. “Bella, you don’t have to do that.”
“It’s already decided.” I nodded. “It’ll give you time to convince me that all rock stars aren’t—”
“Shallow, narcissistic assholes,” he finished with me.
“Exactly.”
“Challenge accepted, Ms. Pagano.” He flashed me his devastating smile. “Your education starts Tuesday.”
He opened the door and darted into the rain. And I continued to watch him until he disappeared inside, wondering what the hell I’d just gotten myself into.
Chapter Eleven
Cade
I was three weeks in to serving my sentence, and I had an embarrassing realization.
I was digging the musical.
Once the kids had moved past being starstruck, they were pretty fun to be around. Eager and hopeful and full of energy—they reminded me of myself before Mom and Dad’s accident. Like me, before I had thrown myself down the neck of a bottle, as if it were the only thing that could save me. Until I had finally come up for air, substituting music in its place.
Bella was clearly talented. Watching her on stage was nothing short of mesmerizing. I worked with professional musicians and dancers all the time, but she could hold her own among them, if she wanted to.
As she worked with Marcus on a piece of choreography, letting him spin her gracefully across the floor, my eyes couldn’t help but watch her slim form. And my heart couldn't help but catch as she threw her head back and laughed when he tripped over one of Audrey II’s giant papier-mâché leaves.
I turned back to my guitar, forcing myself to look away. I sometimes brought Bob to rehearsal, and Jeremy and I worked on strumming and chord positions in the back, when Bella didn't need him.
It all felt so normal. So wholesome. Fun. And I hadn't had fun like this in ages. The kind that didn't involve too much champagne and too much makeup and a step and repeat backdrop at the entrance.
My phone buzzed and I nearly sighed at the caller idea. It wasn’t another call from Bix. The man had been calling me daily, a call which I’d been daily ignoring. I knew what he was going to say. I clicked to open the text.
Bale: Give me six strings, and three words, two hearts beating. One night is all we need, can’t fight this yearning
Andy: ur make’n me blush man
Bale, Andy, and I had been texting back and forth some lyric ideas for a song they were working on. Devon was on the text chain, but he had been silent as the grave. Fine by me.
Cade: Nice, I like. Andy u haven’t blushed since that hot tub in Ibiza
Andy: What that woman did is not natural
Bale: He’s got that deer-in-the-headlights look again. Come back to us Andy
I chuckled and put my phone away. Thank God Bale and Andy were still writing, because my muse had withered on the vine. I couldn’t seem to think of anything except my drunken jail-inspired lyrics.
Falling in my dark, it was you I found
Moon touched angel, you brought the light crashing down
Trapped in a cage, fighting to be free
You are my silvered poison and my gilded key
And four lines did not make a song. My deadline was fast approaching. Bale and Andy had offered to come to Hartwood Falls so we could finish writing together but, for some reason, I kept stalling them. I didn't know why.
Well, maybe I did.
Somewhere deep down, I worried that once they were here, life would catch me again and sweep me away. Burning Umbrage would come first, and the things I needed to do here—like finish my community service, figure out what to do about Gramps, and find a way to close the gaping hole left by Gran’s death—would fall to the wayside.
“You ready?”
I looked up to find Bella standing over me, half of her hair threaded in a braid that crowned the top of her head.
“Sure.” I blinked myself back into reality. Had I been staring? I was definitely staring.
Embarrassed, I put Bob in his case and grabbed my hoodie before following her out the door. She didn’t even look back to see if I was coming. No exchanged words as we moseyed toward her car too—which was odd. We always had something to say as we exited the auditorium.
In fact, there was a weird, charged energy in our silence. And it was growing more uncomfortable. Did she notice my staring? I needed to break the tension before I did something else idiotic.
“The dentist scene is really coming together,” I said, and cringed.
Bella, however, beamed. “I know, I feel like Garrett’s really had a breakthrough. He wasn't getting those syncopated rhythms at the beginning, but I think he’s figured it out.”
We stepped off the curb and sauntered into the parking lot.
“How are ticket sales coming along?”
Bella looked sidelong at me, a smile tugging on her lips. And damn. That smile. My breath did this little hitch and I cleared my throat to cover.
“Well,” she began in a sing-song voice, “it's no sold out show at Red Rocks, but we're doing all right. Better than I had hoped.”
I laughed and let her gentle jab slide over me. I was starting to figure out how she operated. Sarcasm mixed with unexpected bursts of passion and a deep caring. Like catching a ray of sunshine through the clouds.
The weather today was unexpectedly warm for October. I unzipped my jacket and slid on my shades. I put Bob in the backseat of her car, on top of several boxes. “What's all this?”
“Fliers for the musical. I’m going to put them up around town this afternoon.”
“Want help?”
Bella raised an eyebrow. “You’d do that? Surely you have better things to
do, you know, respond to fan mail, Facetime with a supermodel . . .” Her tone was light. Questioning.
I snorted. “If you must know, me and Gramps did have a pretty exciting puzzle picked out for tonight. Another half-nude pin-up girl.”
“Naughty.” She chuffed a soft laugh.
“Yeah, pretty much. His older lady friend brings a new one each week.”
“What?” Now she laughed full on.
I side-eyed her with a mock-flirty half-smile. “But pin-up puzzle girl can wait. I can probably spare an hour for you.”
“Okay.” Bella turned the key and pulled out of the parking lot. “Don’t want her to get jealous or anything.”
“Of course, she’ll get jealous.” I could practically hear Bella’s eyes rolling.
Satisfied, I pulled a baseball cap out of my jacket’s pocket and threw it on.
Bella studied me. “With that on, you look more . . .”
“Hot?” I suggested. “Drop dead gorgeous? Irresistible?”
She groaned. “I was going to say peaceful, but I’ll just stick with narcissistic. You know, like all rock stars.”
The wicked, delighted smile she tossed my way made my brain short circuit. And my cocky-ass grin slipped some. I cleared my throat. “My hat is like Clark Kent’s glasses. My disguise. Helps me pass for normal.”
Bella let out a disbelieving laugh. “Cade, trust me, it would take a lot more than some ratty old cap to turn you normal.”
My chest tightened with unexpected pleasure. I was pretty sure that was a compliment.
“Does it really work?” she asked.
“Sometimes,” I offered. “People are remarkably self-absorbed. The rest of the time, I just sign the autographs or take the selfies. I know it's a small price to pay for being able to do what I love for a living.”
“But it wears on you,” Bella said. “I remember Jason struggling too. Is that part of why you . . .” she trailed off. “Never mind.”
“Why I what?”
She waved her hands. “I don't mean to pry.”
“It's okay,” I said softly. I don't know why I felt compelled to give her this permission. Normally, I didn't like talking about myself, especially not the deep shit. Like why I drank. But, it felt different with her? Like, she didn't want anything from me except my truth. And, normally, that was the last thing people wanted.
I peered at the landscape whizzing by out the window. “I started drinking after my Mom and Dad died. Just thirteen.”
“Cade, I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have asked—”
“It's okay.” I studied her expressive eyebrows, drawn together in genuine sorrow. For me. “It was a long time ago. I went down that road pretty far. But music, the band, and especially my friend Devon, pulled me back. Still, the craving was never totally gone. I always used it as a crutch.” Until . . .
I looked out the window again. I didn't want to tell her about Houston. I didn't want her to feel the urge to look it up on YouTube. Maybe she already knew. Maybe she had already seen the clips of my rock bottom. A flush of shame curled up my face, my neck.
Memories of that night were blurry. I knew I’d had a lot to drink before that show.
But it hadn't seemed like too much. It wasn't until the next morning, when the video of my drunken performance surfaced that I realized how obvious it was.
Me stumbling on the stage.
Missing lyrics and cues.
Leaning over so far to high five fans that I literally fell off the stage.
“Drowning Umbrage,” the headlines read the next morning. It had made the rounds of social media and, even with Kenzie’s miracle work, the buzz had taken a painfully long time to die down.
I had been stone cold sober ever since that day. Until the day I met Bella.
Bella pulled into a parking spot in front of Rose’s Flower Shoppe, at the end of Main Street.
“Look at all the decorations!” Bella leaned forward and peered up through the windshield at the purple twinkle lights wrapped around the trunks of the red- and yellow-leafed maple trees that marched up Main. Her attempt to change the subject was obvious, but I welcomed it.
“I used to trick or treat here.” I soaked in the sights, even the familiar banner stretching across the street for Hartwood Fall’s annual spooky fun tradition. “I can’t believe they still do the Halloween Stomp.”
The shops lining Main would decorate their window displays with ghosts, witches, flickering candles, and little faux headstones. Each storefront hosted a collection of elaborately carved pumpkins, some filled with huge flower arrangements. Halloween afternoon, people drove in from all over to “Monster Stomp in Hartwood” with their kids. Afterward, at the park, there was lots of bartering and bargaining between kids. I had a way of talking every girl into giving up their Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Dev would give me shit, then steal some of my hard-earned loot.
“I love helping my Mamma hand out the candy.” Bella cut through my memories and I swallowed. God, I missed all the stupid holiday traditions here. “The kids are so cute,” Bella continued, getting out of the car.
“Your mom owns one of the shops?” I scanned up and down the street. “Which one?”
“It’s over there,” Bella waved a hand noncommittally. “We moved here three years ago, so you probably haven’t been in.”
I cocked my head. Was she deflecting? “What’s the name of it?”
She examined her ruby-red painted fingernails. “Charmed. It’s a new age and metaphysical bookstore.”
I could see it now, sandwiched between Sweet Flower Bakery and the post office. “So, your mom’s like what, a yoga instructor?” I totally couldn’t see it. Nothing about Bella said head-in-the-clouds or woo-woo.
She bobbed her head in indecision. “More like . . . a witch.”
My eyebrows shot near to my hairline. “I’m sorry, did you say your mother is a witch?”
“Not like with a pointy hat. She practices stregheria, an ancient Italian form of witchcraft. She’s first generation, straight from the old country.”
I started up the street toward the shop, Bella trailing after me. “What about your dad, is he a warlock?” This was a development I couldn’t have foreseen. Bella was even more of a mystery than I had originally thought.
She smacked my arm. “Ha ha. Actually, a male witch is still just called a witch. But no, my dad’s . . . not in the picture. He left when I was little. I don’t even remember him.”
I winced. Way to make a joke about the absent father. Dick move. “So, do you still have family in Italy? Have you been?”
“Yeah, tons of aunts, uncles, cousins. My grandparents have passed. I’ve been a few times. It’s pretty overwhelming. They all talk so fast. And have so many opinions––Where are we going?” Bella clutched the fliers to her chest. “I thought we could start at that end of the street.”
I chortled. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy. We’re going to meet your mom.” I vaguely remembered a dark-haired woman in the parking lot the night Bella and I had met, though my memories were still fuzzy. But I needed a glimpse of the witch who had birthed and raised the whirling force that was Belladonna Pagano.
Bella paled slightly. “She’s probably busy with customers—”
“She’ll make time for us.” I jogged across the street and Bella darted behind me. She caught my arm and tugged against me, digging her heels in. When I turned, her eyes were pleading. “She will terrorize you. She’s a fan—a crazed fan! It’s not a good idea.”
I raised my eyebrows—trying to ignore the feeling of her fingers wrapped around my bicep—then full on smirked. “You think she's going to embarrass you.”
Bella sighed softly before looking up to the heavens. “She will embarrass me.”
“Perfect.” I took her hand from my bicep and gently tugged her forward, a devious grin on my face.
She reluctantly followed.
The bell tingled as we pushed inside the shop. The interior was not the den
of strange goods I had expected—the white walls were neatly lined with shelves bearing all sorts of books, crystals, candles, little bottles, and more. Soft harp music played over the sound system, and I sucked in a deep breath of lavender-scented air.
A striking dark-haired woman in a purple velvet tunic perched on a stool behind the counter. This must be Bella's mother.
“Let’s go, Cade,” Bella begged me. She had released my hand as soon as we entered, and I shoved down the regret of no longer feeling her skin on mine. Instead, I grinned devilishly and called out “Mrs. Pagano! I wanted to come meet you.”
Bella’s mother looked up at me brightly. Her eyes flicked from me to her daughter. “Cade Owens, it is a fortuitous day, indeed.” Her accent was sensuous and thick, and when she uncoiled herself from her stool and sashayed over to us, I had to keep my footing. Mrs. Pagano must have been a real heartbreaker in her day. “Please, call me Amara.”
I shook her proffered hand. “A pleasure.”
“When I performed my daily tarot pull this morning, I knew you would visit me and with my Belly.”
I turned and mouthed Belly? to Bella, but she didn’t see me. She had one hand up, massaging her temple.
Innocently, I returned my attention to Amara. “Why’s that?”
Amara pursed her plush lips. “I pulled the Lovers’ card, of course.”
Bella groaned next to me. “Mamma, non mettermi in imbarazzo,” she said in rapid Italian. “Devo lavorare con lui.” Damn, those lyrical words sounded sexy coming out of her mouth.
Amara waved a hand. “Have you been taking good care of my Bella, Cade? I know that fate brought the two of you together. Ever since Bella’s new moon—”
“Mamma!” Bella threw up her hands and started speaking even more rapidly, shoving her mother back toward the front of the store. “I’ll meet you outside, Cade,” she directed over her shoulder. Her face was beet red.
