(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5)

by Michelle Mankin

  • • •

  “You want me to get you another one?” Dominic asked me.

  “Huh?” I tore my gaze from Ramon. He had brought a woman who looked like a Victoria’s Secret swimsuit model to the backyard barbeque at Dominic’s dad’s house. Ignoring the unsettling churn in my stomach from seeing his lips on her neck more often than his beer, I refocused on my husband.

  “Your burger,” Dominic frowned. “Is it too overdone?

  “No, there’s nothing wrong with it. I’m just not hungry. But thanks.” No uniform today. Board shorts instead. If I closed my eyes, I could almost believe that he was the man he had been at the beginning of our marriage. Though he wore casual clothing, there was nothing relaxed about the muscles drawn taut beneath his skin when I touched his thigh. The openness, the easy smiles, they were long gone. His shuttered gaze lifted. Sometimes, it hurt to look into his eyes, to know there was a part of him now that I could never reach. But I tried not to let on.

  “We don’t have to stay, but it will hurt your dad’s feelings and my mom’s if we leave. They worked so hard on the planning.” Feeling my gaze on her, my mother smiled at me. I framed one in return that I didn’t feel. Not because of the party. It was nice. Colored paper lanterns hung in the lush green arboretum-like backyard. Burgers and hot dogs sizzled on the grill. Ramon’s dad was there. Gonzolo, too. All the Dogs together again, even Diesel was smiling. It seemed like everyone was having a good time. Yet, tension emanated from my husband that threatened to turn the celebratory air sour.

  “I really don’t think they would mind. I go back in a couple of days. They understand we need time alone together.”

  The unease inside of me rose. My husband wasn’t the only one who would be gone soon. The Dogs would be leaving, too. One in particular. The one who checked on me constantly by phone when he was on tour, who made sure I resurfaced after every wave that took me under, and who had been discretely monitoring me here at the party. Though he was with the gorgeous blonde, he seemed quite capable of multitasking. Ramon caught my eye on him…again. He arched an inquiring brow. I ripped my gaze away.

  “Maybe we should go,” I allowed.

  “Great.” Dominic took my plate off my lap. “I’ll just say goodbye to my dad.”

  “Shouldn’t you say goodbye to the guys, too?” I noticed Ash watching us, clear blue eyes like his cousin’s narrowed with concern. “You haven’t said a thing to any of them.”

  “I don’t have anything in common with them anymore.” The crease between his brows deepened. “You sure seem chummy with them, though. I can’t believe they’re running their new material by you.”

  “We’re friends.” I cocked my head to the side. Was he jealous? Did he envy them their success? Did he ever regret walking away from the music? If he did he never let on. “I only made a couple of suggestions that turned out well on their third album. I’m just a listener. I’m certainly no expert.” I had an eclectic ear, and I wasn’t afraid to give constructive feedback which they all seemed to appreciate. “I think they’re kind of superstitious now and want to do everything exactly the same way for the next album.”

  He made a disapproving sound. “Dishonorable guys for a married woman to call her friends. Women. Drugs. They have a terrible reputation. I really don’t like you hanging around alone with them.” By them, he meant mainly Ramon. We had been circling around the edges of this particular disagreement since he arrived home. But like we had done so many times, on so many leaves before this one, we avoided thorny subjects, pretending everything was rosy between us. “People talk,” he chided.

  “What people?” I pressed. “No one has said anything to me. Don’t you mean just you?”

  His gaze narrowed. “What do you two even have in common?” He glared at the Dirt Dogs’ guitarist. “The surfing I understand. But, I mean, look at him. He’s half-drunk already, in the middle of the afternoon. And that’s the third girl I’ve seen with him this week. Drinking and screwing around, those are the only two things he’s interested in.”

  “That’s not true,” I disagreed. “And you know it. He’s loyal and caring. He is devoted to his family.” Minus his mom. “To his music. To his friends in the band. To you and me. He keeps me from going stir crazy during the months that you’re gone.” Ramon had been true to his word. He was the steady one. He kept the lines of communication open as promised. When he was on the road, he called. When he was home in OB, we surfed nearly every morning, and afterward we sat at the wall and talked. It wasn’t earthshattering stuff, certainly not gossip worthy. Yet to me it meant everything that he invested the time. That proved he cared. Why else would he do those things?

  “I guess,” Dominic allowed. “I just hoped he would grow up eventually. But I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. All the money. The fame. It gives him a pass on responsibility.” Dominic’s green gaze turned misty. “It’s not real life, though. It’s not like holding your buddy in your arms while he bleeds out. It’s not standing at attention to honor him when they put his flag draped coffin on the plane home.”

  “Dominic,” I gasped, placing my hand on his arm and squeezing the rigidly taut flesh. He never talked about the specifics of what went on during his missions, not that he went on a lot of them. As a mechanic, he usually stayed on base. “Who?”

  “Nick. He was on guard duty while I was under a hood making repairs. We took on some unexpected sniper fire.”

  “Oh Dominic! I’m so sorry.” My eyes filled. “So, so sorry.” I stood and wrapped my arms around him. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “What else is there to say?” He shook his head as if trying to rid his mind of the memory. “Talking doesn’t change anything.” His eyes turning as hard as his body, his gaze narrowed on the Dirt Dogs’ guitarist, the animosity apparent. “I know that you think he’s your friend, Karen. And I’m glad that he’s here for you.” His tone didn’t make it seem as though he was really grateful. He sounded more like he resented Ramon. Would he rather that I be completely alone? Completely reliant upon him and whatever scraps of himself he would throw my way? “But I can’t relate to him or the other guys anymore. So don’t expect me to pretend that I can.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  * * *

  Ramon - February 2004

  “Hello,” Karen said dully.

  Fucking finally, she answered her phone.

  “Hey, what’s going on? I left you a ton of messages last night that you never returned. Is everything ok?”

  “Everything’s fine. What’s going on with you?” She was deflecting. She sounded anything but fine. Damn this fucking long stretch of appearances. I was usually able to get back to OB more often between Dominic’s absences to support her.

  “We’ll get to that in a minute. Right now I want you to tell me what the fuck’s going on with you. For real. No bullshit.” My temper flared. I crushed my cell in a tight grip.

  “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  I’d be the judge of that. “How long have we been friends?” I asked her.

  “A long time,” she whispered. Lately, she just seemed to get quiet instead of throwing her sass at me whenever I got mad.

  “Three years. Almost four this summer,” I clarified wanting to make my point. “Did you brush me off when my dad had chest pain?”

  “No.”

  “Right. It was only heartburn but he didn’t know that, and wouldn’t have if you hadn’t taken him to the ER to get it checked out. And how about when Linc got that wild hair and wanted to take the band in an experimental direction after our last album? Who listened to me blow off steam about it for a couple of hours?”

  “I did.”

  “Right. And how about the time Dominic’s plane was delayed in Munich because of that winter storm and you thought he wouldn’t get home to see you? Who sat with you all night watching Jane Austen movies until he wanted to gouge his eyes out?”

  “You, you stayed with me, though you couldn’t r
esist editorializing.”

  “I’m a guy, surfer girl. You know I’d have my man card revoked if I acted interested in that kind of shit.” I sighed. “So now that I’ve wasted precious time reestablishing that we’re good friends, tell me what the hell’s going on.”

  “Dominic was home a month ago.”

  “I know. I was there,” I reminded her, gentling my voice and feeling like an ass. He had looked good, though as was usual lately I hadn’t spent much time with him. He was different. Karen and I had talked a little about it, though I was careful not to criticize. There was little left of the easygoing guy I remembered growing up. Being over there had made him hard. He was a warrior now. He rarely laughed. He watched the rest of us including her with an analytical eye and a detached attitude which made it seem as though we were all in a battle he planned to win. “You’re missing him,” I guessed. It didn’t seem to be getting any easier for her even though Patch would soon be finished with the mandatory portion of his overseas commitment. I was relieved that he would soon have the opportunity to come home. I feared Karen was near the end of her frayed rope.

  “Yes, but…” Her voice hitched. She sniffed softly, but I heard her. She was crying. I couldn’t bear it when she cried.

  “Five minutes, Martinez,” the harried looking backstage manager urged. She backed away when I whipped my frustrated gaze on her.

  “Where are you?” Karen asked.

  I ignored her question in lieu of one of my own. “You’ve got five minutes to tell me what’s going on, or so help me when I’m done here I will walk off this stage and come to OB and extract the truth from you myself.”

  “I started my period today. I was late, and I had been hoping…but I’m not pregnant. Again. And Dominic doesn’t want to try anymore. Not until he’s back stateside. Simone’s graduating soon. She’s moving away to New York. She’ll be a famous star on Broadway. You’re a successful musician who travels all over the world. Dominic’s working on his degree at night so he can qualify to be an officer. I’m the only one who’s still here. The one everyone feels sorry for. The girl who had the full scholarship to Yale but who went nowhere in her life. Who still lives with her parents and works in a surf shop.”

  “Karen,” I breathed. These were thoughts she had only hinted at before. It was obvious to me that it was her disappointment about not being pregnant that was the catalyst for this downward spiral. “Calm down. Take a breath. It’s ok.”

  “It is. I know that logically. And that’s the worst part because I know that I don’t have any right to feel this way.”

  “You have every right. Your feelings are valid. They’re what makes you who you are. A kind, thoughtful, caring woman who is loyal to her friends and has helped each of them get to where they are today. You are the common denominator for all of us. You are the one we all love.”

  “We need you on stage, Mr. Martinez. Right away.”

  “I gotta go. Turn on your television. Put it on the Oscars and record it. The Dogs are performing tonight. We’re doing ‘Like a Soldier’, a tribute to Johnny Cash. Linc is dedicating the song to Patch and all the troops currently away from home.”

  • • •

  “Your cell’s ringing,” Diesel informed me, hair as dark as mine askew, but not from participating in the Oscar after party fray. He had made his token appearance with the rest of the band as required by the label, but the whole time he stood in the back of the room, arms folded over his chest looking down his nose at everyone else, disdainful of the excess and debauchery. The parties resembled the ones backstage when we were on tour, only here there were more dollar signs involved. Billionaires mixed and mingled with top tier celebrities while super thin supermodels instead of strung out groupies circulated the room offering fucks for free.

  “So let it ring,” I told him, sliding my hand under the sequined dress of my second indulgence of the night. It was difficult for me to lose myself in a chick anymore. With the first one of the evening, I had been able to envision the one I wanted her to be. With the second, I was having more difficulty detaching from reality. My self-prescribed tonic of pills and champagne was petering out too quickly.

  “I would man, for sure. Only you made me promise before the first party that I would monitor your phone and let you know if she called.”

  Everyone understood where Karen stood with me. They rode me about it constantly, everyone except Diesel. He seemed to understand my dedication, though he didn’t know Karen all that well.

  I set the blonde aside so fast she nearly fell over. Stumbling, she glared, but even before I reached for my phone I noticed she was already scanning the room with calculating eyes looking for her next celebrity mark.

  I clicked the call log. I saw two missed calls from an unlisted number. Given Karen’s distress earlier, I scrolled down to call her number when my phone rang again.

  “Martinez speaking.”

  “Ramon.” The connection was horrible. I recognized his voice regardless.

  “Patch.” My heart started to race, panic burning through remaining alcohol and drug induced haze. He never called me. He saved all his overseas minutes for her. “Is Karen ok?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Are you ok?”

  “I’m fine, too.”

  My relief at his reply slowed my heart down. I collapsed into a nearby chair.

  “You shouldn’t have done it.”

  “I can’t take the credit. The dedication was Linc’s idea.”

  “I wasn’t referring to the dedication at the Oscars, although everyone in my unit over here is talking about it. I’m talking about you buying the surf shop for Karen.”

  Shit.

  I didn’t anticipate the paperwork going through that quickly, though Karen’s boss hadn’t been hard to convince. She had been ready to retire. She loved Karen and had been happy to facilitate the ruse that she was bequeathing it to Karen while working behind the scenes with the real estate company that was representing me. However, no one was supposed to blab about the details. I had wanted my part in it to remain anonymous.

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Bullshit. It’s a huge one. The location on Newport Avenue alone is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

  1.5 million to be exact, but I thought it wise not to correct him.

  “Look, I know I asked you to look after her, and I’m grateful for all you do for her. She is, too. But dude, it makes me look like a loser, like I can’t take care of Karen and give her the things she really wants. You know we can’t afford shit like that.”

  I knew. That was why I had done it. I saw her count her savings yet continually come up short. I saw the longing. Saw her increasing despair that everyone else seemed to be moving forward in pursuit of their own dreams. Knew she felt like a failure, and that she hid those feelings so deep I feared for her. And I also knew that the problems with him were at the center of everything with her. Now that I thought about it, maybe my motivation hadn’t been that benevolent. Had I subconsciously wanted Patch to look bad?

  “You weren’t meant to find out,” I admitted. “Neither was she. No one was. It was a gift.”

  “Way too fucking extravagant, secret or not. If I figured it out others will, too. You’ve been around those rich nuts in Hollywood too long if you think something like this was the right thing to do.”

  “Now wait a minute, Patch.”

  “No you wait a minute. Step the fuck back. Get your face out of your latest piece and your brain clear of whatever shit you’re high on and get some perspective. The rest of us have real lives with real concerns. It’s serious as fuck every day over here. We’ve got an enemy that has no fucking respect for human life. They strap bombs on children and pregnant women and send them into the compound to blow us all to hell.”

  I closed my eyes. He rarely talked to her about how things were over there. I wasn’t sure if he was required to keep the details private or if he had to in order to cope. But I knew it cu
t her deeply that he didn’t share.

  “Listen, Ramon. I know I’m jumping your case, man. But you had to know I would be pissed when I found out. You cock blocked me in a major way with my own wife. No way can I ever afford to give her things you can without even blinking an eye or feeling the pinch of it in your bank account.

  Oh, I had felt it alright. I had depleted my reserves and borrowed heavily with the label against my future. It would be a long while before I could replenish funds, a long time before I could afford a place of my own where I was set on living someday in OB. “You chose to leave the band,” I reminded him. “If you had stayed, you could have…”

  “That life wasn’t for me. And though Karen might not see it now with things being such a challenge for us, it wasn’t right for her, either. The road, the moving from town to town every single day, the craziness of it all, that’s not a good environment for a new marriage. In the beginning, sure it was fun, surfing together and making music. But I grew up.”

  I ground my teeth together. He was starting to piss me off. I didn’t think what he was putting her though now was much better. “You’re not the only one who has matured, Patch.”

  “Yeah, if you’re so mature, what are you doing right now?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer. “I’ll tell you. The same stupid shit you were doing when I left the group. I would bet the full signing bonus I got for re-upping early on it.”

  My anger over his dig went by the wayside, concern for her superseding all else. “You’re staying in Afghanistan for another tour?”

  “Yeah, man for another three years. The way I figure it after the shit you pulled, I’ve got no choice.”

  “How’s that?” This was going to kill Karen. She had all her hopes riding on him returning stateside. Did he not see what was going on with her? How strained she was? How the worry gnawed at her constantly? How she flared like a flame on high when he was home but dimmed whenever he was away? Was she that good at hiding her true feelings from him? Or did he only see what he wanted to see?