Cassidy glances around the lobby of the building, taking note of many records and posters hanging of Exoneration, smiling as she witnesses her little brother’s accomplishments.
“Cassidy?” a young woman dressed in a black suit calls from the doorway.
Cassidy walks over to the woman and extends a hand.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s a pleasure. My name is Francesca, but you can call me Ann,” the woman says as they share a smile.
Ann escorts Cassidy through the door and down a long hall.
A tall man, with the brim of a ball cap pulled down low, covering his face, brushes past them in a hurry, startling them both.
“Sorry, that was Harlan. He may have somewhere he needed to be, we’re running a bit behind. We’ll have to schedule you a separate time to alter his outfits, though I do have the previous designer’s measurements of the band members handy.”
“That is great. Thank you.”
The woman beams up at Cassidy as they enter the elevator and she presses a button for the thirtieth floor.
“I am a huge fan of yours. I recommended you for this project. I saw some of the pieces you did for your fall line, the mix of leather and lace, and I thought you could bring something new with a mix of the old.”
“Well, I’m very flattered. I brainstormed on the way over here and have some ideas I’ll discuss with Max.”
“Oh! He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“The band gets final approval of the outfits. We need the designs submitted by the end of the week with prices for materials.”
Cassidy nods, it makes sense since the record label is footing the bill.
“I think he brought you in to get things signed. You’re the final piece.”
As the elevator doors open, Ann guides her to a conference room where boisterous noise can be heard on the other side.
“Sorry, they just got out of a jam session. Everyone gets a little crazy after they perform.”
Cassidy understands. She remembers what it was like growing up with Ryker and how he would have crazy bursts of energy every time he learned an instrument or sang in his room.
She walks into the room behind Ann, head held high, ready for the questioning eyes. But instead she is met with a few side glances before their raucous behavior continues.
A beast of a man steps forward; tall, with skin almost as dark as the black suit he wears, but his eyes are a hypnotizing blue. Almost alarming in their coolness.
“It’s ok, Anthony. She’s going to be part of the team. This is Cassidy. Cassidy, this is Anthony, he is the head of security for the tour.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says as his voice, rich and deep, pouring over her like gravy.
Her body actually shakes from the feeling of its roughness as it wraps around her.
“You, too.” She replies as she glances around the room once more meeting the beady eyes of the man she is positive is Maxwell. He is short and pudgy, with a toupee that has seen better days.
“Cassidy, doll, good to have you here. Look, these kids are ready to get out of here. So, let’s get this contract signed and you can take that measurement sheet from Ann and verify that it’s correct.”
Cassidy reviews the stack of papers placed in front of her and makes sure that there isn’t anything she’s uncomfortable with. Luckily, it’s all straight forward and she has five business days to add any amendments once it’s signed since everything is short notice.
Handing the signed papers back to Maxwell, she follows Ann over to the gathering where she is introduced to everyone. Dutifully, Ann hands her a tape measure and carries a clipboard as Cassidy re-takes everyone’s measurements, laughing as they awkwardly strip down to their undergarments.
She ends on her brother, neither of them giving away any sign that they are siblings; it’s not the first time they’ve had to interact in the same group before.
“Thanks, everyone. I’ll get my designs sent to Ann by the end of the week. Enjoy your holidays,” she says ending with a wave goodbye.
She walks over to the corner of the room where she placed her bag and jacket and she startles when she feels a hand pressing on her shoulder.
“Cass, what are you doing?”
“I’m sorry, Ryker. They begged me. And it’s a lot of money. It’ll be good for my business.”
Ryker strikes a hand through his messy spiked hair.
“It’s not that. I just…it’s a different world when we’re on the road, groupies and what not.”
“Don’t worry, baby brother. I’m not going to tell anyone about the shenanigans that take place. I’ll probably spend most of my time on my bus.”
“Cass. I just…I don’t want to have to worry about you. And this isn’t really your style.”
Cassidy steels her expression.
“Don’t worry, rock star. I can take care of myself.” Turning around Cassidy stalks to the door before shouting over her shoulder, “Ann, shoot me a message when Harlan is available for his fitting. I’ll use the measurements we have but they’ll need to be modified before the tour.”
The woman nods and Cassidy exits allowing the heavy metal door to slam behind her, determination surging through her body with the need to prove her brother wrong.
She just hopes she made the right decision.
HAT DAMN MELODY KEEPS blaring in Harlan’s head and he has finally had enough. Three months of this incessant tune playing within his mind and he is at his wits end, short of seeing a psychiatrist, he is willing to do anything to make it stop, and an idea had started brewing in his mind this morning.
He needs to get laid.
Since his night with Cassidy, Harlan has felt zero desire to be with anyone else. Hers was the lone pussy his greedy cock craved. But that will change because tonight he is going to go out, get smashed, and find something warm to bury himself inside.
He needs this to end now if he has any hope of regaining his sanity.
Harlan glances around the room watching the band members read over their riders for the upcoming tour. He had already scanned his over this morning while he waited for his class to start in the community arts building. His friend Xavier ran the music department and Harlan volunteered to teach guitar lessons whenever he was in New York and had free time. He enjoyed working with the kids and it was something that kept him busy.
Ann is in the middle of talking about the new designer they’re bringing in for the tour since the last one dropped out last minute and Ryker is busy sending obscene texts to his lady friend from the night before while slouched in the seat beside his.
As Max’s assistant scurries from the room claiming that the designer has arrived for measurements the music in Harlan’s head increases to a painful frequency. The urge to write out the notes is too strong to ignore and Harlan rushes from his seat.
“Ryker, tell Ann she’ll have to schedule me another day. I need to go write.”
Ryker looks surprised; he hasn’t written any new songs in months, most of the new album coming from Ryker alone, though Harlan helped to guide him in the guitar riffs and such.
Cocky grin in place Ryker stands to go join the other band members as they crowd around the buffet table.
“Good luck, man.”
Harlan nods and blasts through the door, dashing down the hall, nearly missing Ann and her guest. The music in his head pounding out in sequence as his feet move him past the women.
“Fuck,” he says as he braces both his hands on the sides of his head in torture.
Harlan agonizes as he works to hail a cab and find his way back to his flat across town.
The car ride is a blur and Harlan struggles to make his way up the stairs, a migraine building in his mind as the lyrics and music play within him.
He trips over the edge of the couch as he reaches for his guitar and the moment his fingers touch the strings the pain subsides. His thoughts become clear. The melody and h
armony melding into a beautiful composition. The same composition the he heard the night in the bar as his eyes fell upon the beauty in the red shoes.
Harlan sits at his couch, lyrics springing forth effortlessly, sweet perfection to the music he plays.
From his guitar case, Harlan tugs free a few pieces of sheet music, a pencil, and then presses record on his phone. He needs this moment to stay his for eternity.
Endless arrangements filter from his mind to his finger-tips, leaving pieces of himself on every sheet of music. Harlan hasn’t written new songs for the band in two years, and now? Now he can’t write fast enough. His fingers cramp with the speed that he scribbles notes and letters, every once in a while, needing to strum the guitar to make sure he has the tune correct.
Three hours later Harlan slouches back against his couch, fingers tight, side of his palm covered in black smudges, and heart racing. Yet, Harlan doesn’t feel like he has just run a mile. No, he feels a sense of euphoria. A sense of all-encompassing power and relief at having his vision play out across the musical notes before him.
Grasping one page of the sheet music with his shaking hand he stares at it in disbelief. Before him is an amalgamation of his soul with hers, each note representing a piece of Cassidy while the lyrics are a fragment of Harlan. It was the perfect mixture.
Harlan squints slightly, from both exhaustion and rapture, and notices how blurred before him the darkly scribbled notes almost resemble Cassidy’s beautiful face.
He chucks the paper aside and runs his hands through his hair in exasperation.
“Man, you’re fucking losing it,” he says to himself.
Luckily his phone rings and his mind wanders back to the present to recognize Ryker’s number flashing on the screen.
“Hey,” Harlan answers as he rests his head on the back of his couch and stares up at the exposed piping of his ceiling.
“Hey, man. Just wanted to check in with you. You rushed out of the meeting so fast you missed the good stuff.”
“Sorry ‘bout that. I’m better now, writing always helps.”
“You got some songs?” Ryker asks, surprise in his tone.
“Yeah, I…they’re good man. Best I’ve written.”
“Well, shit. You’re excused then, I can’t wait to hear them. Anyway, that’s only part of why I called.”
“What’s up?”
“So, the new costume designer is going to be on tour with us and she is…” Ryker trails off leaving Harlan confused.
Is this woman something to his friend, a past lover or ex? That is not something that bodes well on a tour and, as the oldest of the group, it is something Harlan did not want to deal with.
“She is what, Ryker?”
“She just seems…out of her comfort zone. So, as I said to the rest of the guys, I think we should just steer clear of her and let her do her job, alright.”
“No problem, man. You know you don’t have to worry about me. I get enough pussy on the road to be distracted by a shy girl playing dress up.”
“Yeah, I know,” Ryker exhales with relief. “You’re never the one I need to worry about.” Harlan understands. The other guys in the group are notorious for hooking up with the band’s crew which always leads to them leaving halfway through the tour. Continuing Ryker adds, “I’m headed back home for the next week or so. You doin’ anything for the holidays?”
Harlan shakes his head in response, knowing full well that Ryker can’t see him. Holidays, Christmas and New Year’s Eve, are days he hadn’t celebrated as a child and certainly didn’t celebrate now. His parents always had “club” stuff to do on those days; mostly taking care of other members of the motorcycle crew that had nowhere to go, which meant Harlan was left to the wayside. The Moto Club was their first priority; Harlan always came in last – the forgotten one. His Christmas dinners usually consisted of heating up a tray of microwavable turkey slices or, if he was lucky, his elderly neighbor invited him over to share the leftovers when her children had left their dinner.
“Naw, I’m just gonna hang around here.”
“You know you’re always welcome to join me. My mom would love to have you.”
Astonished, Harlan can do very little to hide his smile. Ryker James was notorious for keeping his family shielded from his fame. No one knew anything about the singer outside of his rock star persona. For him to invite Harlan with him to actually meet his family is enough to cause a cardiac arrest.
“Thanks, but I don’t want to impose and I’m sure your mom won’t be too pleased with a sudden and unexpected guest.”
“Shit, you don’t know my mom. But it’s fine, go eat your Christmas Chinese food and I’ll go bathe some ham in some brown sugar.”
“See ya, Ryker.”
“See ya. Oh, and send me those songs. Record them on your phone or something.”
“I hear ya,” Harlan adds before ending the call.
Damn, a sweet ham sounds so good right now, Harlan thinks to himself as he sets his phone on the couch beside him.
Glancing back at the sheet music stacked before him on the coffee table, and then over at his unmade bed, Harlan shakes his head as memories of his night with Cassidy flood his mind.
“Shit,” he whispers before grabbing his guitar once more.
Harlan sets up his phone in front of him and takes a steady breath.
His fingers work the strings to loosen up their tightened muscles and joints.
Strum.
Strum.
Strum.
Breathe.
Record.
TARING AT HERSELF IN the mirror, Cassidy still doesn’t quite recognize the dark-haired woman glancing back at her in the reflection. The woman’s short wavy hair is pulled back into a twist at the back of her head, a royal blue dress cascades down her slender frame. Cassidy appears gorgeous and put together, but inside? Inside her body still twists and turns.
Cassidy is always one to experiment with art; tattoos covering parts of her body that always symbolize celebratory moments in her life. Usually, she’d walk into Cliff’s shop, tell him what she wanted, and poof she could move onto the next goal in her life.
But that man – Theo – is wreaking havoc in her life. She thought the tattoo Cliff designed of a heart with a needle threading through it would end that moment in her life so she can move on, but it has done the opposite. Her focus is draining and all she can envision is her night with Theo. It makes doing the sketches for the Exoneration Tour’s costume designs difficult – as in, impossible.
So, when the tattoo failed she did the next best thing – she dyed her hair. The brown is a little darker than she had wanted, but it isn’t awful. It is a color she can live with. And for the past two days, it had done the trick. She has been able to focus and draw up all the costumes she plans on creating and has sent copies to Shelly to get her input.
But now as she faces herself in the mirror, she feels lost in the memories once more. The dyed silk draped on her soft skin feels eerily similar to the way Theo’s fingers caressed her skin – gentle, loving.
Unable to control herself, Cassidy closes her eyes and succumbs to the visions she’s tried so hard to battle against. She can almost taste his slightly salty tongue as it pursued her for entrance, needing to savor her mouth. The muscles of her bottom tighten as she remembers the way he gripped her tight, holding her body hostage against him as he rocked his erection alongside her craving center. Cassidy can feel herself growing in wetness as more and more images flash behind her eyes. His eyes as he lost himself to her. His hands as they worked to memorize every inch of her body. His cock as it grew in size seeking her out; her body, its beacon. His kiss devouring her as if merging their hearts as one.
Cassidy’s heart races as she feels herself falling into the abyss. Her hallucinations feeling more real in that moment than imaginative. Her thighs begin to shake as the pressure between her legs builds and she has to brace herself against the sink with her hands to stabilize herself. The orgasm
washes over Cassidy and she grips the edge of the sink tightly as she works to regain herself, a soft sigh snaking between her lips.
As the quaking subsides, Cassidy opens her eyes to stare at herself once more. She isn’t surprised to find the rosy colored, flushed cheeks and the glazed expression in her eyes. What does catch her off guard are the tears openly sliding down her cheeks. The problem for Cassidy isn’t the tears ruining her makeup – which she quickly cleans up as she wipes the tears free and reapplies her mascara. No, the problem is why the tears developed in the first place, a realization Cassidy isn’t sure she is ready to come to terms with.
Love.
Who the hell falls in love with a one night stand?
Surely not the smart, goal-oriented, non-boyfriend seeking Cassidy, she thinks to herself.
She can fight the feeling or the reasoning all she wants. She can justify that she is in love with the memory, not the man. But Cassidy knows the why and the how. She had fallen in love at first sight. The cliché rings true for her and it breaks her delicate heart a little bit more to know that her love for Theo won’t be returned.
Stroking her hand down the silk dress once more, admiring the sheer sleeves designed to cover her tattoos, Cassidy exits the bathroom to help her sisters Avery, Everleigh, and Nikki, her brother Austin’s girlfriend, get dressed.
Tonight, is a different kind of New Years for her family. Not just because she is in on the secret wedding Avery and Logan plan on holding right before midnight, but the town is holding their festival as a ruse to capture someone stalking and extorting her brother Austin and his business.
For the past week, it seems as if the town of Carson that Cassidy grew up in is completely different from the one she is visiting. Despite the growing population, things just seem to be happening, but the older generations don’t seem to blink an eye, as if these things are a common event. To Cassidy, stalkings and shootings are common in New York, but not in Carson, but she is quickly starting to believe otherwise.
She watches as her sister Everleigh slides on the snow boots under her champagne colored gown. Boots Cassidy had rushed out to grab in Asheville for Everleigh and Nikki. The gown was designed by Cassidy and she had worked on it last week when Avery had called her about the wedding; luckily Cassidy had forms on hand shaped for each of her siblings since she loved to design clothes for them.
Coming Altered: Welcome to Carson, Book Four Page 5
