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

by Michelle Mankin

  She nodded. “I’m Fan…Frances.” She shook her head subtly as Hollie sank onto the bed beside her.

  “Nice to meet you Frances.” It felt better than nice. It felt familiar somehow, probably only because of all the time I had spent in pursuit of her.

  Grimacing, she reached up and touched her bald head and ducked her chin to her chest.

  “Well, the circumstances aren’t nice. I’ll give you that. But we can try to make the best of it, starting with getting you both fed. I was just getting ready to make breakfast. I don’t have a ton of culinary skills, but I can scramble eggs. And toast some bread. Would that work for both of you?”

  They nodded.

  I stood. “Alright then I’ll get to it.” And yet I lingered just a moment longer. My gaze encompassed both, but I settled it on Frances. She was the one in charge. And her eyes, even just the slivers I could see compelled me to hold it.

  “Don’t give Hollie a hard time when I leave the room.”

  “I wasn’t…”

  “You were.” I cut her off. “I get that you’re wary. I think I understand more than you think I do about your situation. Hollie did the right thing last night calling for help. You can’t keep going this alone. Whoever hurt you isn’t going to stop hurting you, and the next time will likely be worse.”

  Chapter Eight

  * * *

  Fanny

  “He thinks we’re in some sort of domestic abuse situation,” Hollie hissed after Ashland left.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. He actually wasn’t so far off the mark. “I ran into Karen earlier at the church. We talked a bit. I said I was in trouble, but not with the law. She probably told him about it, and now, after what happened to me, I imagine it was a natural conclusion for him to draw.”

  “Not so natural. But understandable. Did you hear him tell me about his cousin?”

  Expression somber, I nodded.

  “Did you know Lincoln Savage had a history of being abused?” She twisted on the frayed hem of the blue plaid thrift store shirt she had been wearing with the same pair of jeans the entire time she’d been sick.

  “No. I don’t think it’s a widely known fact.” In all the interviews I had watched back when I had been obsessed with the band, I had never heard the lead singer mention it. Probably because either Linc had yet to come to terms with it, or simply that he wanted to keep his personal life private. But I could certainly empathize with either reason.

  “Well, I think it says a lot about Ashland that he came to our rescue. That he shared. That he wants to help. So why lie to him about your name?”

  I dropped my chin. Lowering my head made my swollen nose throb, but I couldn’t maintain direct eye contact with her. I didn’t want her to see the entire truth. That keeping my identity a secret had partly to do with my pride. I didn’t want him to see me like this, didn’t relish anyone seeing me like this really. But the other reason, the more overriding one, was the risk of our being discovered. “Even a guy like Ashland Keys can be bought or manipulated, Hollie. Have you forgotten the things Samuel said to you before we ran?”

  She shook her head. “But Fanny, what happened to you…” Her voice choked up and tears filled her eyes. “Those guys still pose a real and present danger. Whereas Samuel…”

  “Just as real,” I interrupted.

  “But…”

  “He was siphoning money from your account.”

  “I’m not so sure,” she protested. “Ernie only said there were large irregularities.”

  “He came onto you,” I reminded her.

  “He was drunk.” She dropped her eyes.

  “That’s not an excuse, honey.” It saddened and disturbed me that she would defend him.

  “I know.” She gnawed on her lip.

  “I get he’s the only dad you’ve ever known Hols,” I said gently. “But he betrayed that trust. And the part about mom, the things he told you that happened on the boat the night she died? That’s why we ran. That’s why we can’t tell anyone. Who knows what he’d do to keep us silent.”

  “You’re right, Fanny.” She lifted her watery gaze, the tears in her eyes spilling down her cheeks, but her expression was firm.

  “If I had known he was manipulating you, hurting you the way he did me, I never would have left you there with him.”

  “Not your fault. You’re not responsible.” Hollie grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “You and me. No one else. We stick together. And when I turn eighteen.” She climbed into the bed with me, her shirt so big on her small frame that she had to lift the hem. “Then we get my money, lawyer up and do what needs to be done.”

  • • •

  It was nighttime. Hollie was sound asleep beside me when he appeared in the doorway again. Not to take our plates away or to bring me hot and cold compresses or pain relievers. This time he just stood in the doorframe filling, no eclipsing it, with his larger than life presence. I pretended to be asleep wondering why he was watching us so closely. Curiosity perhaps. I didn’t think he was worried about us robbing him because there was nothing in the apartment to steal. No TV. No computer. Not even a laptop or a sound system which seemed odd given his musical background. Just the amazing Spanish Mediterranean architectural elements and the breathtaking views of the ocean out every window. Plus his furniture, though the arrangement of it only seemed finished in the central living space. The pieces were nice, sturdy dark wood and earth toned leather. Nothing within the inner sanctum of one of the legends of rock ‘n’ roll that revealed to me more than I already knew. I had as many unanswered questions about him after a restless night and a sleep filled day spent in his apartment as he probably had about Hollie and me.

  We were being purposefully evasive. What was his story?

  After a couple of moments, he moved closer. Through my lashes, I watched him. Same graceful swagger, made more devastating by the jeans that fit him exceptionally well and the smooth skin and sculpted muscles displayed above it.

  Waking that first time to find him in the kitchen, on the other side of the bar from my sister, several things had hit me at once. First, my imagination of what lay under his shirts had not done justice to the reality. Chiseled chest, bulging biceps, defined pecs and abs, his upper torso matched the strength of his lower and bespoke of his many hours working out in the gym, surfing and playing his drums. I’d experienced all that strength firsthand when he had whisked me into his arms and carried me into the bedroom.

  The second thing that had hit me was a smidgen of irrational jealousy. My sister was way too young for him, but she was beautiful. That she wasn’t of legal age didn’t seem to stop most guys from looking. That he had been talking to her in the same confidential tone he had used with me at the Oscars made pain slice through me again almost as badly as when I had put one and one together and realized he was in love with Simone.

  Yeah, I was over him. Of course, I was over him. Our encounter had been a little nothing, and it had been ages ago. Yet deep down, for me at least, it had felt like something significant.

  And thirdly, did he not even own a shirt? Why didn’t he put one on? Did he not get that he had two women in his apartment? Granted one looked like Dead Pool, and the other was underage. But did he not comprehend how incredibly sexy he was? And how completely, unnervingly distracting it was to be confronted with an unveiled version of his golden godlike form?

  And I had not only seen it, I had touched it and felt it, felt his warm sleek skin and flexing strength beneath my hands. Not only that I had smelled his intoxicating, citrus, sunshine summery ocean scent. I might be banged up to hell, but I wasn’t dead. I guess it was better that he didn’t seem to notice how much he distracted me. He seemed to think I was afraid of him. Hardly. I was afraid of myself with him.

  He was so close now as I continued to feign slumber that all I could see through my lashes were his bare feet. So different from mine. So large. So male. He leaned closer. I held my breath. What was he going to do? Did he know I was awake?
>
  No.

  He drew the covers up to my shoulders, nearly bare but for the thin straps of my tank. He gently tucked in the blanket around me. Stepping back, he turned and left the room. I stared at the empty doorway for a long time after he had gone. But eventually exhaustion overcame my musings, and I fell into a true deep sleep with a soft smile on my lips.

  It had been a long time since anyone had cared for me so tenderly.

  Chapter Nine

  * * *

  Ashland

  I dropped my ass into one of the chairs around the breakfast table by the window, the one nearest the window, incidentally one that I had never sat in before. If I was home and eating, I usually sat at the bar. The barstools were high and the view out the window just as good. Plus it was more conveniently located near the kitchen. But I sat at the table right now because it was farthest from my bedroom. I had left the door open because I didn’t want to disturb them while they were sleeping and because I didn’t want Frances to panic. She was cautious and maybe a little paranoid, both of those understandable responses given her circumstances. She was like an animal that had been abused. No strike the metaphor. Whoever the asshole was who had done that to her was the animal. And he would get his due. I would see to it. I would make it a priority.

  But one step at a time.

  First I needed to get her better and get her to trust me so I could help her and her sister. Then she would tell me who had abused her, and I would dispense justice. But all that was going to take some time. And I had to keep her close to earn that trust. So the first order of business today was sitting my ass in view of the apartment door so she couldn’t sneak out on me and possibly go back to her tormentor. That was a very real concern in my mind. I’d seen it played out with Linc and his father, the abuser somehow warping things in a way that the victim believed they deserved the abuse they endured.

  Not happening here. Not again. Not with her. Not this thin wisp of a girl with eyes that flashed fire. No one was snuffing out that flame. Not on my watch. Not if I had any say in it.

  I slid my cell from my front pocket and scrolled to a number. She answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, Ash,” Karen said. “What’s going on?” I could hear water running in the background. “You coming over for breakfast this morning? We have migas.”

  “Sorry, but I can’t. I’m kinda tied up.” For real not a fake excuse this time. “And I need your help.”

  “Sure. What can I do?” No questioning just an immediate ‘I’ve got your back’ response that further drove home the point Ramon had been trying to make during our last phone call.

  “Well you’re probably not going to believe it, but I’ve got our Lakers Girl here.”

  “Here as in your apartment here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’d you manage that? Or how did she manage that? I haven’t even been up there. Neither has Ramon.” Now Linc words came to mind. Maybe I was a bit of a recluse. These were my friends, yet I had been shutting them out. Guilt rolled around inside of me. But what good was guilt except an excuse if it didn’t prompt a change inside of you?

  “Well it’s nothing that she or I did. Some sadistic asshole worked her over really badly.”

  “Oh, No! I’ve been afraid for her, a young, pretty girl like her all alone on the street.”

  Pretty? How could she sound so certain? I mean I suspected. Sure. The bone structure was there, and she had those gorgeous silver eyes, but her face had been covered in grime every time I had seen her and now was distorted by the swelling. Frances was young, definitely. I had seen that and felt it in the lithe body that had been pressed so appealingly to mine. Yeah, I might be a total pervert to notice with her in her condition. But hey, it was impossible not to considering how long it had been since I’d had a woman in my arms. Especially one who so intrigued me.

  “How badly is she hurt?” Karen’s tone was highly pitched with concern.

  “She got pretty roughed up. And I get the idea this isn’t the first time something like this has happened to her. I think you’re totally right about an abusive background. But anyway, there’s more. You know how I always thought she was hiding something important down around the pier? Well she was for sure. Only it wasn’t a something. It was a someone. A younger sister.”

  “No way.” She cursed under her breath and my brow rose. “I should have left more food. I bet they’re both half starved.”

  “They are.”

  “Is she…” Her voice snagged on worry. “Is her sister hurt, too?

  “No just scared.” Both of them were wary and frightened, though Frances tried not to let her fear show. Not to spare my feelings, but because I think she wanted to shield Hollie from it. She was so admirably protective of her younger sister. “They scarfed down all the eggs and toast I put on their plates yesterday. But now all my supplies are gone, and I don’t have anything else to feed them.” And I couldn’t leave them here alone. I didn’t trust them not to take off the minute my back was turned. Right back to the street and certain danger. “I can’t call a delivery service either. I’ve barely won their trust. A stranger coming up here would negate the minuscule progress I’ve made.”

  “I’ll bring some food right over.”

  “I was hoping you would. Thank you.” I felt my lips curve up. Karen was a great friend and a good match for Ramon. I was glad they had found their way to each other. “But no need to rush. They’re sleeping right now.”

  “Oh well that’s good. I’ll run by Lavons. Get some toiletries and stuff girls like. I bet you don’t have anything like that.” She was right. I never encouraged Renee or anyone else to stay overnight. I had bar soap and clean towels in the guest bath and jack but my own shit in the master bath. And I didn’t even get that stuff myself. I just made a list, a short one usually, for the housekeeper who came twice a week to clean and get things for me that I ran out of. Nice clothing was about the only thing I cared about and preferred to try on and purchase for myself. Thinking about clothes made me remember how threadbare Frances’ and Hollie’s clothing was.

  “Do you think you could also bring them some outfits and things from Offshore?”

  “Of course. But what size is the sister?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe just a little shorter.”

  “The obsession continues.”

  “What?”

  “Hate to point this out, Ash. But you don’t seem to notice anything but our Lakers Girl when she’s around.”

  “Oh.” I frowned at myself for being so transparent. And recommitted to tempering the obsession that had me acting irrationally and could have gotten Frances killed. “Give me a second. I’ll peek in my bedroom and guestimate about the sister and call you back.”

  “You’ve got them both in your bed?” She sounded incredulous.

  “Well, yeah. So? The bed’s a king. My room’s bigger and nicer.” I shrugged. Even to my own ears I sounded like I was justifying.

  “Ok, Ash. Whatever you say. Do the size guessing thing and let me know. Then I’ll get everything together and be over shortly. I suggest you give them a heads up that I’m coming.”

  “I will. But just you. Not Ramon. Frances knows you.” I think she would extend her trust to Karen with less hesitancy than she had to me.

  “Frances?” she inquired.

  “Our Lakers Girl. Her name is Frances. And oh, could you bring her a hat? Maybe a purple or a black one?” Those colors would go great with her pretty grey eyes. Well, they would when the swelling went down. “Her head’s going to be cold,” I explained.

  “Did she lose her Lakers cap?”

  “That’s the least of it.” I went on to explain. Best to prepare Karen so she could hide her shock at Frances’ appearance better than I had.

  • • •

  Fanny

  “Shit!” I stumbled, and my legs came out from under me as I stepped from the shower. “Ahh!!!” I cried, landing on my bare butt, my breath expelling in a rush. />
  I hadn’t been able to resist the allure of a shower, but I had underestimated the weakness of my abused body and the slickness of the travertine floor. A little woozy from the fall and everything else, I swayed as I regained my feet, only to gasp at the sound of a loud metallic groan accompanied by the additional sound of splintering wood. Not knowing what was going on, I snapped a towel from the warming rack behind me and just managed to whip it lengthwise in front of my dripping wet naked body when first Ashland and then Hollie appeared in the entrance to the bath.

  “What’s wrong? I heard you cry out.” My sister swept a concerned gaze over me.

  “I slipped and fell.” I felt my cheeks flame as I explained. But there were other distracting things going on with me that had nothing to do with the pain in my tailbone and everything to do with the way Ashland was currently staring. Appearing enraptured, he hadn’t spoken a single word since he had come in. His expression and his oceanic gaze spoke volumes. Approving volumes, it seemed as he raked his gaze over me once again noticeably slower.

  Gosh, Fanny let go of the fantasy and get a grip, I told myself. And it worked. Though my arms and legs continued to tremble, I managed the wherewithal to wrap the towel around myself.

  “Are you ok?” Hollie glanced back and forth between Ashland and me. Her signature brow lifted when she looked at me. “Fan…Frances, hey.” She snapped her fingers in front of my face, and I returned my attention to her. So Ashland had seen me naked. He was only reacting the way most guys would. Ok, maybe not like most guys. My face was a mess. I was bald, and my body was all sharp angles minus the extra weight that created feminine curves. Most guys probably would have winced and looked quickly away.