Missez (Wild Irish Silence Book 4)

by Sherryl Hancock

  Nicolette mentioned it that night as they lay in his bed with the French doors open to let in the cool breeze from the ocean. “You always say the right thing, you know?” she said, glancing up at him. He was lying on his side, his head propped up on his arm, his other hand drawing lazy patterns on her bare stomach.

  He looked at her then, puzzled by her statement. “Why do you say that?”

  “I mean, like in the store today, you saw that that young girl was upset that you had a girlfriend, but you managed to make her happy without having to backtrack on what you said. I just think it’s great. You manage to stay who you are, and make everyone happy at the same time.”

  Jerith watched her as she spoke, as if trying to figure her out, then shrugged. “I just say what sounds like something I’d want to hear if I was in their shoes.”

  “Do unto others, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  “That’s something else I don’t know about you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you’re religious or not.”

  Jerith laughed, the sound soft in the quiet room. “It hasn’t exactly come up in the conversation, you know.”

  “I know, but now it has—so?”

  “So… am I religious? No, not really. I’m Protestant by birth, and if I go to church, which I rarely do, it would be a Protestant church, but I’m certainly not fanatical about it. What about you?”

  “Me?” She shook her head. “If I was anything it would be good old-fashioned Christian, but I don’t do church, and I’m far from the maniacal state myself.”

  “Okay, then, now that we have that established…” He smiled. “Have you any other questions for this witness?”

  “Not at this time, Your Honor,” Nicolette replied in kind. Jerith laughed again, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead.

  They lay together in companionable silence for a while, Journey’s “Raised on Radio” played down the hall in what Jerith called his music room. The room housed a state-of-the-art stereo system and entertainment center. It also contained his favorite guitar and all accompanying amplifiers and recording equipment. The room was soundproofed for the times when Jerith decided to hook up his guitar and play around with a riff or two, which he told her he often did. As one song ended, it was obvious that Jerith tuned in to the song that followed it. His fingers mimicked the chords of the guitar part. Nicolette was already growing accustomed to his love of music, and he did have his particular favorites; this song was obviously one of them.

  She was, however, surprised when he started to sing the words. She had heard him sing before, but it was always in the car with the radio up loud, so she couldn’t really discern his voice from the voice on the radio. But now, since the song was playing in the other room and he was right next to her, she could hear him loud and clear, and she listened with fascination. The song was “It Could Have Been You,” and it spoke of loss and how things could have been different.

  As it faded, Nicolette watched Jerith in stunned silence. When he glanced down at her, having come back from the usual trance-like state he fell into when he really got into a song, he was surprised by the look on her face. “What?” he said, totally unaware that he had just astonished her.

  Nicolette shook her head, not even sure what to say but unable to close her mouth. “You… I mean… You sing…” she stammered, trailing off as she searched for words to appropriately describe what she’d just heard.

  “Yes, I do sing. I thought you knew that. You know, band, music, all that?” Jerith was still mystified by her behavior.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t tell me you could really sing,” Nicolette said, finally regaining some of her faculties.

  “Compared to what?” Jerith asked humorously.

  Nicolette stared back at him, once again surprised by him, then began to shake her head. “You have no idea how good you are, do you?”

  Jerith shrugged. “I’m good at harmonizing. I leave the real singing to Billy.”

  “That wasn’t harmonizing, Jerith,” Nicolette said, pointing toward the hallway. “You were singing, and you were unbelievable. You can’t tell me that no one has ever told you how good you are.”

  Jerith shrugged. “I don’t sing like that in front of just anyone, especially not more or less a capella.”

  “Ha!” she said, wagging her finger at him. “Then you admit that you weren’t just harmonizing.”

  “Okay…” Jerith said, giving her a blank look.

  “But you still don’t believe me, do you?”

  “I believe that you are very biased, and give me a lot more credit than I deserve,” he said, his tone telling her that he was uncomfortable with the whole conversation.

  Jerith was far from the egomaniacal star. He hated to talk about himself, and didn’t handle praise well. Nicolette decided to drop the subject for the time being. She had been very honest, however. When he sang along with the song, she had been held spellbound, not by the words so much as the way he sang them. His voice made her feel everything the words said. She was swept up in the emotion of the music, the very timbre of his voice. The highs and lows were engaging.

  “I have to ask you one thing,” she said. He nodded. “Does that song hold some kind of meaning for you?”

  Jerith looked taken aback, as if trying to figure out why she’d ask a question like that. Then he shook his head. “No, I just like the music and the way Steve Perry sings it. Why?”

  “I believed you, Jerith.”

  “What?” he asked, confusion apparent on his face.

  “I believed you. The way you sang it, you made me believe that you had a love that you lost and that you regretted it. You made me believe it—you made me feel it.”

  Jerith looked down at her for a long time, his eyes searching hers. He knew what she meant, and he knew that it was significant. It was like an actor making his audience believe he was the character he was portraying. It was the same in music; you wanted your audience to believe in what you were singing about. You wanted them to feel the music, the drama, the laughter, the tears, everything. It was Jerith’s ultimate goal in his music, and he was surprised by the fact that she understood that. He realized that she understood him better than he knew; it made him feel closer to her, like she’d just completed him somehow. It was a startling thought, but one that he held on to over the coming months of struggle and separation from her.

  ****

  While Jerith and Nicolette were growing ever closer, Billy and Skyler couldn’t have been farther apart if they’d lived on different planets. Once back in LA, Billy became aware of her daily temptations pertaining to her habit. It became a constant struggle to stay straight. She called Skyler a week after getting back, and he wasn’t home. She paced, and cussed, and paced some more, calling back three times. He finally returned her call the following day, explaining that he’d been out on a mission until three in the morning. He had indeed sounded tired. Billy told him he should take a break and come to LA, to which he replied that he’d had all the time off he needed when she was there.

  The following months hadn’t fared much better. Billy asked him to come to LA, and Skyler refused. “I told you I wouldn’t come to Los Angeles, Billy,” he said for what seemed like the millionth time.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I hated it when I lived in Riverside, and I hate it more now,” he said unapologetically.

  “Is that because I’m here?”

  “It’s because it’s a fleabag of a town.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she said sourly, to which Skyler did not reply. “So when will I see you?”

  “Whenever you come up here,” he said mildly.

  “Why are you being such an asshole?”

  “Is that what I’m being?”

  “That’s just the tip of the iceberg of what you’re being, Skyler James Kristiani.” Again, Skyler didn’t reply. “Are you still there?” she said finally, hating the direction of the conversation and kn
owing he was getting the better of her.

  “Yes, I’m still here.”

  “So I have to come there if I want to bask in your presence?”

  “If the whim takes you, yes.” She could almost see him grinning sardonically.

  “Well, don’t hold your breath.”

  “I never do.”

  While Nicolette was in town with Jerith, Billy, who’d managed to hold out for another month, took a flight to Sacramento. At the airport she rented a car and drove to Skyler’s house, only to find that he wasn’t home. She drove around the small towns of Yuba City and Marysville, wasting time. When she went back to his house he still wasn’t there. This time she waited. A half hour later, his red Mustang pulled into the driveway. Billy was determined to be cool and casual with him, already feeling at odds at having to wait at his doorstep like a homeless waif.

  Skyler stepped out of his car. He was wearing black jeans and a hunter green oxford. His light green eyes seemed to sparkle as he walked toward her. Billy held her breath, not sure what to expect from him. Skyler walked straight up to her, and to her utter shock leaned down and, cupping her face with one hand, kissed her. His other arm encircled her waist, pulling her body flush with his as his kiss left her breathless. When he finally released her, Billy was unsteady on her feet as she stared up at him. He was grinning down at her now, his eyes glittering with the knowledge that he’d unsettled her.

  “You missed me, I see,” she managed to say, although her words didn’t come out as strongly or as confidently as she had meant them to. She straightened her clothes, looking down as she did. His finger under her chin brought her eyes up to his.

  “Come inside and I’ll show you just how much,” he said, the tone of his voice sending an electric charge through her body.

  She could only manage to nod in response. He took her hand and led her to the house, unlocking the door but not releasing her hand. He looked back at her and saw that she was watching him. Without a word, he pulled her to him, and putting her back against the door jamb, he took possession of her lips again. Billy gave up any thoughts of resisting him and wound her arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer. After a few minutes, Skyler shifted them so that they moved into the house, his lips never leaving hers, kicking the door closed with a booted foot. Now he leaned her back against the inside of the front door, still kissing her. His hands gripped her waist, and he lifted her easily off her feet. In her usual habit with him, she encircled his waist with her legs as his arms wrapped around her body, one hand trailing up to entwine itself in her jet black curls.

  He carried her over to the couch and laid her down, staying within the circle of her arms. His lips moved to her neck as he started to unbutton her blouse. Sensing his impatience with the tiny pearl buttons, Billy sat up and pulled the blouse off over her head, slipping off her skirt as well, watching him the entire time. She’d dressed carefully for this reunion, wearing her best sexy undergarments under her blouse and miniskirt, including a sapphire-blue lace garter belt, stockings, and matching lace panties and bra. Her preparation was not lost on Skyler. His light green eyes traveled appreciatively down her body, his hands sliding seductively over the garments. His eyes met hers again, and she could see the desire reflected in them.

  “You’re gonna kill me…” he muttered as he moved to kiss her again.

  Billy laughed seductively, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. “I’ll be careful,” she said, her voice husky from the passion he’d reawakened in her.

  They made love for two hours in the living room. Then again in the kitchen, when he went to get a beer to recover from the first few times. Eventually he gave up any hope of rest, and they spent a full evening in happy abandon—so much so he had to call in sick the next day.

  “I can’t even move,” he said as he lay back against the pillows on his bed, his cordless phone still in hand.

  “Then don’t move,” Billy said, sitting up and looking over at him. “Stay here in bed with me all day. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Skyler gazed at her, seeing how incredible she looked, totally naked, tanned, and very fit, but certainly not lacking the curves of the sensuous creature that she was. “You are trying to kill me,” he muttered.

  “No,” Billy said chidingly. “But I am going to make you pay.”

  “For what?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “For being so damned difficult.”

  Skyler shrugged, not looking apologetic in the least. “I told you…” he said, not finishing the sentence as she began to nod emphatically.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. You told me you wouldn’t come to LA,” she said, giving him a sour look.

  Skyler just stared back at her, looking far too confident.

  “So what if I just left now?” she asked, her tone changing. When he didn’t reply, she started to get up. His hand on her arm stopped her. With the merest hint of the strength he possessed, he pulled her back down to him.

  “You’re not going anywhere, young lady.” He kissed away her protest, leaving her breathless. She didn’t leave for two more days, not until the very last minute possible, and only then because she knew Jerith would kill her if she took too much more time away from the studio. The days were spent trying to get reacquainted with Skyler and trying to get some kind of commitment from him to come to LA the next time. Skyler refused to budge. He told her he didn’t have the time nor the inclination to come to Los Angeles, and graphically reminded her of how well her visit to Sacramento had worked out between them. Billy hadn’t been able to argue with him there. She left still feeling like she’d somehow been cheated again, knowing that she was dancing to his tune but hoping that she’d prodded his memory enough to make him miss her enough to change his mind.

  ****

  The day after Nicolette left, Jerith had to pick Billy up at her house in Beverly Hills; her sapphire-blue Cougar was in the shop. Billy noticed his sullen mood right away. He didn’t smile, he didn’t talk, and she got irritated with him really quick.

  “So what’s your problem this morning?” she said.

  Jerith glanced over at her and shook his head, then looked back at the road.

  “Oh, come on!” Billy said, grinning evilly. “You’re the original morning person.” When he didn’t answer her, she looked at him more closely, which only served to irritate him further. “You’re depressed, aren’t you?” she said incredulously. When he didn’t answer, she knew she was right. “Jesus Christ, Kid. You’re really gone over this one, aren’t you?” Again, her question was met with silence. “How gone are you?” she asked then, seriousness creeping into her voice. “Kid?” She stared at him, her eyes narrowed. “Are you in love with her?” She was frustrated by his silence, but not sure she wanted to hear the answer to her question.

  Jerith glanced at her, his blue eyes sober.

  “No way! No fucking way, Kid! How can you be in love with a cop? She’s not your type at all. Kid, she’s a cop, or did you forget that?”

  “No, Billy, I haven’t forgotten,” Jerith said, his tone even and cool. “I’m in love with her. Deal with it.”

  “And what?” Billy was not one to be cowed by his frigid tone. “What are you gonna do, huh? You gonna marry a cop?” Her voice dripped sarcasm as she glared at him, never expecting the reply she got. Jerith looked over at her, his sky blue eyes staring straight into hers, and raised one eyebrow, indicating that her disbelief was unfounded.

  Billy stared back at him openmouthed. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said, without even thinking about it.

  “I wouldn’t?”

  Billy shook her head, looking out the front window of the car, not believing what she was hearing. She had never imagined in a million years that Jerith would not only fall in love, but maybe even get married, and the last type of person she figured he’d end up with was a cop. “Alan won’t like this one bit,” she said, as if she were talking about his father not giving him permission.

  “Do I fucking care wh
at Alan likes or doesn’t?” Jerith snapped, real anger in his voice. His eyes glittered angrily. “You may have climbed so far up his ass that you can’t see daylight, Billy, but don’t expect me to.”

  “Alan Rothe made us. Don’t forget that,” Billy snapped back, not willing to be talked down to. Jerith pulled into the studio parking lot then and tore into a space, hauling up on the parking brake and turning to her in the same movement.

  “Alan Rothe is a bloodsucking leech that happens to have some connections. I’m not going to roll over and kiss his ass just because he got us a couple of deals. We paid handsomely for his connections. This deal with Sparks alone will pay for his fucking mansion in Bel Air. So don’t cap off at me about Alan’s virtues, because he has none.” His voice was strident, his eyes narrowed as he spoke. There were a lot of things about Alan that Jerith didn’t like, one of which was Alan’s obvious negligence where Billy’s drug problem was concerned. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Nicolette that Alan Rothe thought Billy’s drug problem and arrest would be great publicity for the band. It irritated Jerith no end that Billy thought the guy was the next Messiah where the music business was concerned.

  “My, my, aren’t we feeling very independent this morning,” Billy said, her voice mellower now as she changed tactics. “I hear a lot of sex will give a guy that kind of courage. That true, Kid? Did she fuck your brains out this weekend? Is that why you’re talking so tough today?”

  She was shocked when Jerith grabbed her wrist, his eyes burning into hers. “Watch your mouth, Billy. It’s about to get you into some real trouble, and you don’t want that with me. I’m the only real friend you have left right now.”

  Billy pulled her wrist out of his grasp, rubbing it as she looked at him. “Yeah, I can tell,” she said solemnly as she reached for the door handle and got out.