When Angels Sing
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Letter to Readers
When Angels Sing
Mimi Milan
Eaton House
When Angels Sing
Angel Paws Rescue Series
Scent of an Angel
Touched by an Angel
When Angels Sing
Mimi Milan
Eaton House
When Angels Sing
Copyright 2017 by Michele Claudio.
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For information contact:
PO Box 19795
Charlotte, NC 28219-0795
http://www.mimimilan.com
Cover design by Midnight Muse Designs
Created with Vellum
Praise for Mimi Milan
Touched by an Angel
“Entertaining, likable characters… this book’s a winner.”
New York Times bestselling author, Mimi Barbour
When Angels Sing
“Mimi Milan writes stories that will make your heart smile.”
USA Today bestselling author, Donna Fasano
For everyone who has a dream…
Desire and daring are the only qualifications needed to achieve it.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Letter to Readers
1
“Are you ready to rock and roll?”
Energy pulsed through the crowd as they screamed, wild with excitement. It was the exact response he had hoped to get from them. A surge of adrenaline rushed through Eddie Rivera. He flipped back his long, dark mane and fingered the black electric Fender again, strumming a few cords on the old guitar. A hush fell over the listeners. The slow progression of notes began to build – faster and faster until he was jamming to the single that had successfully crossed over to American charts. He was still down on the list, but at least he was on there. One day, he would really make it as a musician. He would eventually be number one. Until then, Eddie was more than happy to play the Latin rock tune that had made it across the divide. Thanks to Vivo Por Tus Besos and its English version, Your Kiss is Life, venues were getting better. No more seedy bars where the patrons threw beer bottles when they didn’t like you. No more commission deals with owners who didn’t pay because he supposedly hadn’t brought in a large enough crowd. Now the gigs were steady and the money was guaranteed. He had a manager – a shady one, yes, but a manager all the same who made sure his career was on route to the life he spent years working hard for…
A life in the fast lane.
“I was living like a dying man until that fateful night.” Eddie began to sing and motioned for the crowd to join in. They did, a throng of voices filling the club. “When you stepped out of the shadows and brought light into my life.”
He continued strumming and singing with the crowd until the last note. They cheered, yelling for more. Eddie smiled and waved at a group of young women close to the stage. One of them – a pretty blonde with the skimpiest black dress he had ever seen – screamed even louder, causing him to chuckle. He loved this kind of life. Everything he wanted was there for the taking – nothing like the life he had lived so long ago.
Once upon a long time past, he had started out the kid of a drug dealing dad and an on-again, off-again mom who spent more time in rehab than she did at home. When the state finally came to take Eddie and his younger brother, Carlos, he knew it would be the last time he ever saw either parent. They were just too far gone. What he hadn’t known was that it would be the last time he saw Carlos, too. Unable to find a foster home to take them both in, the boys were separated and sent off into different directions – paths that never crossed again. Of course, he hoped – even prayed a time or two – that his brother had been fortunate enough to find a good home while he, on the other hand, bounced around from place to place with nothing more than a family photo and the guitar his father had left behind. Then he finally placed out of the system at eighteen and struck out on his own. The fact that he had gotten that far without a criminal record made a world of difference when it came to finding a job. Always an avid music lover with the romantic notion of being some famous rock star, he found a job working part-time at a guitar shop owned by a man who loved the instrument so much that he insisted on teaching Eddie how to play.
“Look, kid. You can keep strumming and make a lot of noise, or you can learn how to make music. Which is it gonna be?”
So Eddie learned. Fast. Two years of steady playing and he was noodling little diddies and “nothing” songs – tunes without any real rhyme or reason – to running riffs and blistering solos. They got him into one dive after another, from west to east coast. Sometimes he would play covers with a few originals thrown in the mix – a mash up of English rock tunes and Mexican ballads until he had enough material to stand on his own. He posted his songs online, receiving funding from the community of listeners who liked his style. Thanks to those supporters he was now up on stage, signaling to the other members in the band to switch things up. He wanted to pull a lucky lady onstage to help him sing. Another little kickback. The women loved the limelight as much as he did. The ones that got five minutes of it were always eager to go “home” with him afterwards.
“And now,” he breathed into the mic, “I’d like to ask a special señorita to help me sing this next number. Who’s it gonna be?”
A crazy chorus of cheers sounded again. He looked down at the blonde again and pointed at her, mouthing “you.” Eyes wide, tears streamed down her face and she eagerly nodded. She took a step forward when a thick, burly hand clamped down on her shoulder. Eddie glanced over at the protective man who was obviously with her. The guy glared at him, but the musician only shrugged and once again scanned the crowd. Surely there was some beauty waiting to be…
Discovered.
There she was – stage right. A coppery cutie with straight strands that turned into soft curls at her shoulders. Her features were regal, but the look in her eyes was dangerous. He walked across the stage until he was standing directly in front of her and pointed down. A look of surprise registered on her face and she looked over to where a friend stood, who nodded encouragingly and pushed her towards the stage. She stepped forward, accepting Eddie’s outstretched hand. He easily pulled her up and gave her a quick once over. Maybe a head shorter than him, she was petite but with curves in all the right places. She was fairer than him, too, and he couldn’t help but think she would burn in his Santa Cruz sun.
But they weren’t in California. They were in the foothills of North Carolina and he was going to enjoy all the delights the south had to offer… starting with this royal redhead.
She stared at him – more specifically, at his li
ps – with the kind of intensity that he felt whenever he played his music. It was passion and desire; emotions that raked over you and left you feeling raw.
Yeah, she wanted him.
He spoke into the mic. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Rachel,” she shouted.
He chuckled. “And are you gonna help me sing the next number?”
She slipped out of her shoes and yelled again. “Yes!”
“Woo,” he laughed once more. She was already undressing! He turned to the crowd. “We’ve got ourselves a wildcat here. Put your hands together and give it up for rockin’ Rachel!”
The audience cheered as he handed the mic over. The music started. It was a slower ballad he reserved specifically for this moment, lest the ladies become intimidated by something fast and hard. Rachel closed her eyes while opening her mouth to sing. Silence fell over them when the first awe-inspiring note sounded. Eerily haunting, striking notes that could only be described as perfect. Eddie felt his throat constrict right before his heart plummeted into his stomach.
If there’s a choir in Heaven, she’s definitely on it.
Curious to hear how they would sound together, Eddie walked over to another mic. He pulled it off the stand and joined Rachel for the chorus. Their harmony sent a chill through him, making the hair at the nape of his neck rise up. It stayed that way until the song ended and she had sung her last evocative note. He stared at her, captivated by the golden gleam in her amber eyes, breathless from the beautiful music they had just made. She blinked, her eyes breaking contact as she looked out at the audience. Startled back into reality, he turned to the crowd and yelled into the mic.
“Woo! Yes! Give it up for Rachel and her amazing performance.” Eddie pumped his arms in the air, encouraging the crowd’s applause. Turning to invite her back stage after the show, he caught only the back of her head as she was already making her way across the stage, heading down into the sea of people. He wanted to call out to her, but didn’t want to make it seem obvious that he was too interested. He didn’t have much to worry about in the way of paparazzi, but they showed up every now and then. The last thing he wanted – according to his manager, Jimmy – was gossip that he was a taken man. Show too much interest in any one woman, and the media would have you married off the next day. Not good for sales.
Then again, he didn’t want her walking out of his life just yet. He turned stage left, looking for help and caught sight of Jimmy. A single nod sent the man off in search of the singing siren who had graced the stage so arrangements for a later meeting could be made. In the meantime, there was still a show to put on. Eddie returned to his fans and strummed the guitar again.
“You ready for more?”
A resounding cheer was all the encouragement he needed.
2
The stars were out, a bright reflection of the glow Rachel Linden felt within. She never expected to be singled out in a mass of so many, let alone pulled up onto the stage to sing with an established musician. It had happened, though. It had really happened! She squealed with giddy delight, turning to Song Lynn, an interpreter she found through the local VA who had quickly became a good friend.
“Thank you,” she signed. “This was a fabulous night.”
The woman gestured in return. “I had a blast, Rachel. Thanks for inviting me out.”
They said their goodbyes, agreeing to catch up soon over cups of coffee, and each headed towards their cars. Rachel had parked further out than usual since the only two parking spaces designated for handicapped occupants were already filled when she arrived. She wouldn’t have minded so much if the cars occupying the spaces displayed the appropriate permit to be there, but neither did. To add insult to injury, not a single one of the individuals who piled into either vehicle appeared to have special needs.
Rachel glanced away, reminding herself that looks could be deceiving – like in her case. Most individuals didn’t know that she was legally deaf just by her outward appearance. It was one of the reasons she took every opportunity to educate people about the varying degrees of deafness. It was also the reason she refrained from being too judgmental of the people parked in those marked spaces.
Perhaps they forgot to hang the permit on the rearview mirror. Happens to the best of us.
Rachel surveyed her surroundings, noting other music goers who were filing out of the club and into the parking lot. There were all kinds of people out tonight – old and young; posh and punk. Couples held hands; one pair with their heads lovingly close together in what should have been a secret conversation full of passion…
Except she knew how to read lips. Something she learned as a child because of a grandmother who had lost her hearing, the skill had proved useful in the army, and downright vital when she returned from Afghanistan with only twenty percent of her hearing. Of course, there was the unintentional “eavesdropping” that occasionally occurred.
She turned away to allow the couple some privacy and that’s when she saw a string bean of a man jogging towards her, his oily hair greased back in a way that declared the brisk winds of autumn stood no chance. He looked like a man on a mission… and that set her on full alert. She quickly reached into her purse and pulled out a can of pepper spray just as he neared. The man skidded to a stop, his hands held up in self defense.
“Whoa!”
He took a couple of steps back and the muffled sound informed her that he must have been talking, but she couldn’t quite make out what he was saying with his hands blocking his face. She slowly lowered the can, hoping that the move would put him at ease and he’d drop his stance so maybe she could figure out what was going on.
“What?” She asked, clearly annunciating the word. The man slumped with obvious relief, but she still didn’t know what he had said. She waved a hand and shook her head “no” to indicate her confusion.
“No?” The man’s brows shot up with surprise. She stared at his mouth as he questioned her. “You don’t want a private meeting with Eddie Rivera? Well, that’s a first.”
Eddie Rivera?
Was she mistaken, or had he just really mentioned meeting her new favorite singer? She stared at him, trying to formulate the words that would communicate her interest without sounding too desperate. The man shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave.
“Wait.”
The man spun back around and smiled. “Change your mind?”
She squelched the urge to squeal with delight, simply nodding instead. The man held out a hand, which she eagerly took and pumped. His smile grew even wider. “Well, I’m Eddie’s manager. The name’s Jimmy, sweetheart, Jimmy Lee. What’s yours?”
She managed to squeak out her name behind a tight smile of clenched teeth.
He released her hand to playfully bow and then motioned back to the club. “A pleasure, Ms. Linden. Please allow me to escort you to the place where your dreams are bound to come true.”
Rachel followed Jimmy, her mind reeling with a myriad of questions. What did he know about her dreams? Had this all been a setup to begin with? Her friends had opted out of going to the concert – some because of previous engagements and others due to the fact that they didn’t like Latin fusion rock. They all knew she loved it, though. They also knew her longtime dream of singing. Had they purposely set her up for this? Had Song Lynn knew all along she would be pulled on stage? Maybe it was her other friend, Lucy. After all, she was the one who had hooked Rachel onto this kind of music to begin with.
She turned back, but Song Lynn had already left. Rachel could think of no other explanation, though. What were the chances that she would have an interpreter for a friend who specifically signed for concerts, and then get pulled up on stage the same night to sing… only to be approached afterwards by the band manager to help make her dreams come true?
She picked up the pace to keep up with the lanky manager’s long stride, two scurried steps for each one he took. They reached the club and he pulled open the door, holding it for her as she
passed back into the building. The colorful stage lights of blues and greens had changed to bright white lights shining down on the crew, busy untangling wires and packing musical instruments. The manager motioned for her to follow him up the same set of stairs she had climbed earlier in the evening to sing onstage. Now she was crossing the same spot she had stood an hour earlier and heading back behind the curtain to a closed door marked “Private.” The manager knocked and it swung open.
There stood Eddie in the entrance, leaning against the frame, long and lean with a sleeveless shirt showing off bulky arms. The left one was tatted with two flags wrapped around each another – one American and the other apparently Mexican.
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut.
Dear God, this might be my only chance. Please don’t let me have a fan girl moment.
She felt a light tap on her arm; heard the muffled voice of someone speak. Her eyes popped back open. She forced a tight smile to keep herself from freaking out. Why had she closed her eyes? She missed whatever he had said.
Eddie frowned, looked over at his manager and then back to Rachel. He cocked his head as if waiting for some kind of response.
“I’m sorry,” Rachel apologized. “I had my eyes closed. I couldn’t read your lips. Not the best move to make when everything sounds like you’re living underwater.” She tried to laugh, but Eddie only stared at her.
“Read my…”