The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  Nerves, my ass. Bryan loved to play, lived to shred that guitar of his, unless he was plowing pussy. He’d been doing a lot of that this past year.

  “If you say so.” I’d have to wait until later to figure out what his deal was. I shifted my gaze to include everyone. “So, Bry starts us out, then the rest of you need to watch me for your cues.” I locked eyes with my drummer. “King, don’t hold back. Unleash the beast.”

  “Will do, ese.” He lifted his chin.

  “Diz,” I said, taking in my rhythm guy.

  “Yeah, man?”

  “Need you to hang real tight with Bry. Let him go crazy, but ground him with some steady chords. Yeah?”

  “You got it,” he said.

  “Sage.” I turned my attention to our bookish bassist. “That new snaky groove you introduced in practice is epic. I wanna hear it loud and clear on each transition.”

  “Sure, War.” He gave me a more serious version of his already serious look.

  “What about me?” Lace asked, and I turned to look at her.

  “Do what you always do. Make me sound good with your harmony, and make the guys in the crowd nuts with how sexy you are. Right?”

  She nodded, but the brightness in her eyes didn’t seem right.

  “Hey, guys,” Addy said, stepping up onstage. “I’m going to make the introduction for you tonight.” Throwing her bar towel over her slender shoulder, she swept her gaze around the group before settling it on me. “You ready to kick some musical ass, Warren?”

  She got my mood after I’d spent some time tonight at the bar complaining to her about Vance.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We’re ready.”

  “Good.” Her messy blond topknot bobbed with her nod. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re better than them. But there’s also the fact that Vance pisses me off more than you with his attitude, so I’m biased.”

  My brows hit the bandanna I’d tied around my head. It surprised me that my attitude took second place to anyone else’s.

  But Addy wasn’t done. “You should know there are A&R reps from Black Cat and RCA in the house. They’re here scouting Rebel Heart, but if you put on a good show, they might take notice.”

  This was huge news. “Thanks for the heads-up, Addy.”

  “You got it.” She held out her hand to me for a fist bump, and I gave one to her. Smiling like I’d given her a Grammy or some shit, she strode to the center of the stage. “Hey, Footit’s crowd,” she said into the mic. “How you feeling tonight? Besides thirsty.”

  Only a few seemed to get her joke and responded with laughter.

  Wincing, she glanced at me. Tough crowd, her pinched expression said.

  Speaking to the crowd again, she said, “Well, I know most of you came to see Rebel Heart. But first up is a band that’s been rocking it out during the rest of the week at my place. This is their first Friday night appearance. From right here in Southside, I give you the most dangerous up-and-coming band in rock ’n’ roll, Tempest.” Amid some clapping, she stretched out her arm to our side of the stage.

  Cued, Bryan walked out, throwing his shoulders back as he strutted past her. He looked confident.

  A girl in the front fanned her face. A few appreciative whistles pierced the sudden hushed silence.

  Bryan leaned over to plug in his guitar and got some feedback. Ignoring it, he stepped to the front of the stage, put one boot on the woofer, and leaned back. All rocker cool, he began to play so fast, his fingers blurred. One piercing speed metal chord after another, he slayed it.

  I noted more than a few astonished faces as I took my rightful place at center stage beside him. The rest of the band moved into position. Addy was much shorter than me, so I adjusted the mic, bringing it to a comfortable height. Then I put my mouth to the mic and sang.

  At her keyboards, Lace lightly harmonized. Sager grooved on his bass. King demolished his drums, and Dizzy nailed down the rhythm perfectly, making Bryan’s riffs soar.

  We were tight, first to finish. Every cue met. No filler between songs, just rock—stripped down, raw, and real.

  My lofty expectations were exceeded, and when we walked off the stage, the crowd didn’t just politely clap here and there like they did on the lightly attended weekday nights. No, this time they roared, and it sounded like thunder.

  Loud, approving, addictive thunder.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Lace

  “Hey.” After the show, Dizzy scooted into the empty space beside me at the bar. “How’s it going over here?”

  “Not so well.” I frowned into my soda.

  “Yeah, I noticed your expression from way over there.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder where the others were on the other side of the room.

  “You should go back with them.” I glanced up. In the mirror behind the bar, I could see the rest of the band, along with a slew of adoring fans—mostly women. Two suits were watching the guys. A&R reps from Black Cat Records and RCA seemed to be taking in and noting everything.

  “We kicked ass tonight,” my brother said, meeting my gaze in the reflective surface of the mirror. “Why aren’t you happy?”

  “I just don’t feel like I’m a part of it.”

  “Because you’re over here alone. Come back and hang with us.”

  “Did War send you to get me?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  I sighed. “I’m fine waiting here. I was just in the way.” It was embarrassing being handed cell phones by girls who wanted to have their picture with the guys. No one even noted I was in the band.

  “I saw what happened.” His hands on my shoulders, Dizzy turned me to face him. “It’s just girls being starry-eyed. They didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I know. I get it. I’m cool.”

  But I wasn’t, really. I’d been up early today and late to bed the night before. Studying hard had been my pattern for weeks. I was exhausted and stressed. Plus, I was all out of sorts after the incident with Bryan. Although it was all on me, my expectations being dashed—even if based on a nonexistent reality—still felt like rejection.

  “You’re not cool.” Dizzy studied me like I was a math equation on the SAT. “You’re all worked up about the test tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.” I shook my head at him in disbelief. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?” he asked.

  “Zero right in on what’s bothering me.”

  “I’m your brother. I know you best.”

  Better than my boyfriend, apparently. War hadn’t said a single word about the test. He was all caught up in the band and the success we’d had tonight, which was understandable. But still. I’d been over here by myself a while. He’d obviously noticed but couldn’t be bothered to come over himself.

  “I just need to go home,” I said. “Get some rest. Can you take me?”

  Dizzy’s gaze shifted to a platinum-blonde at the far end of the bar, sipping an umbrella drink. “Of course I can.”

  “You have plans,” I muttered, feeling like a loser. I was even putting out my brother with my morose mood.

  His expression became resigned. “I do, but I can change them.”

  “I can walk myself home.”

  “No fucking way, Lace. That’s not safe, and you know it.”

  “We kicked ass,” War said, suddenly deigning to appear. He put one hand on my shoulder and knocked his other on the bar top as if to emphasize his statement.

  My focus on my brother, I hadn’t seen War approach. Bryan was with War, and he wasn’t alone. He had two girls clinging to each of his arms, and he had yet to put on a shirt.

  I never should have asked him if he’d thought about kissing me. It would have been better to have remained silent. Of course he wasn’t into me. Nauseating regret swirled inside me. Predictably, wishful thinking had gained me nothing but disappointment.

  “What’s going on?” I asked War, giving him a brittle smile.

  “The reps wanna take us out. Talk and shit. Yo
u’re coming with.” He squeezed my shoulder.

  “She needs to get home,” Dizzy said, speaking up for me. “She has the SAT tomorrow.”

  Gratitude burned in my eyes as I exchanged a glance with him.

  “Who the fuck cares about the SAT?” War said, frowning at me.

  It was the absolute worst thing he could say. I stiffened as he spun me around by my shoulders.

  “Lacey, this could be it. You’re not gonna get a surer shot out of here.”

  Another blow. War never gave me props for my goal or all the studying I did. That hurt, but I pretended it didn’t.

  “Diz is right,” I said with a shrug. “I can’t go with you tonight. I’m sorry. I need to go home and get some sleep.”

  War frowned. “You really think a little sleep is going to improve your score?”

  “I sure hope it will,” I said, keeping my voice steady as my fingers curled into my palms. “I’ve been studying for weeks.”

  “We’ve been practicing as a band for an entire year. Tempest is more important.” War squeezed my shoulder once more, then released me as he said firmly, “You’re coming. I’ll take you home after.”

  My jaw dropped as he turned around. My obedience to him in his mind was a given. War was a lot of things . . . a lot of them good. But his arrogance right then rubbed me the wrong way.

  “No.” Hopping off my bar stool, I put my hands on my hips. “I’m not coming with you.”

  He spun around, his nostrils flaring as he faced me. “Lacey . . .”

  “No, War. This is really important to me, and you just dismissed it, and me, and all my effort like it doesn’t matter.”

  “That’s not true.” He gave me a hard look. “I just know the odds. You told me yourself that scores typically don’t improve by more than twenty points.”

  So he had been paying attention. Sometimes I wondered.

  “I have to try.” Lifting my chin, I noticed Bryan watching me closely on one side, and King and Sager moving to stand beside my brother on the other.

  “No, you don’t.” War shook his head. “Not if trying is beating your head against a brick wall. Tonight, you come with me. Support me. You feel me?”

  Maybe another time without an audience watching with rapt attention, I might have buckled under and given War what he wanted, but not tonight. Tonight, I pushed back, and he didn’t like it.

  “I’m leaving,” I said, turning away from him and heading for the door.

  “Oh no you’re fucking not.” War grabbed me before I’d even taken two steps. His ringed fingers closed firmly around my upper arm.

  “War, don’t,” Dizzy said, his warning tone making the fine hairs at my nape stand on end.

  “Stay out of this, Lowell.” War glared at my brother, then narrowed his eyes on me. “This is between Lace and me.”

  “You’re hurting me,” I told War, wincing as the metal of his rings bit into my flesh.

  He loosened his hold but didn’t let go. “I’m trying to help, not hurt, babe.”

  “Then let me go.” My lips trembled a little, and I hated myself for showing that weakness, any weakness, in front of everyone.

  “You really want to make an issue of this now?” He glanced pointedly at the suits, a woman and a man. Their faces glowed as they stared at their phones, pretending to ignore us, but were undoubtably listening to our disagreement.

  “It is an issue.” I wanted to stamp my foot in frustration but didn’t. “It’s my future.”

  “Your future?” His expression turned to solid stone. No compromise, no understanding, he was a completely impenetrable wall. “Your future separate from my future, is that what you mean?”

  I nodded slowly. “Yes, I guess, if that’s the way you want to look at it.”

  Despite us being together for a year, we’d never made any declarations of devotion to each other. Had I been deluding myself about the level of his affection?

  Digging my fingernails into the skin at my palms, I held my breath, waiting to hear what War would say, but dreading it. I didn’t have to wait long.

  “So be it,” he said sharply, releasing me. “You go on and do what you have to do right now, and I’ll do what I need to do, separate from you.”

  “War—”

  “Done, Lace. We’re done.” War’s eyes sliced through me, severing all the previous ties that had bound us as effectively as a blade. “C’mon, Bry.” He jerked his chin in the air and turned to stalk away while I just stood there staring at him.

  For once, I wasn’t distracted by what my childhood crush thought of me. Not when my boyfriend had just destroyed me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Lace

  Hurt and furious, I slammed through the door and stepped outside. Before I’d taken more than a few steps across the bar’s parking lot, my brother caught up to me.

  “Hold up,” Dizzy said, and I turned to face him.

  “I can’t stay.” Dropping my gaze, I wrapped my arms around myself and swallowed repeatedly. My view of the concrete swam.

  Done. We’re done. War’s words echoed in my head.

  “Just stay for a minute while I go back inside and talk to him.” Dizzy let out a frustrated exhale. “I’m sure I can—”

  “Stop it, Diz. You’re not sure. And neither am I anymore.”

  I’d thought War and I were tight, but I was wrong. Good that I’d held back a part of myself, knowing how he was. Sad, though, that part of the reason I’d held back was hoping Bryan would notice me. In the end, both had forsaken me.

  Reeling, I was closer to tears than I’d been in years, but even reeling I didn’t want Dizzy involved. “Don’t jeopardize your position in the group trying to fix what’s unfixable.”

  “I don’t care about that. You’re more important.”

  “I love that you think that. But I care. Tempest is your ticket out of Southside, and you know it.” I had my own ticket, but just the one. The scholarship was more important now than ever. “Go back inside. Don’t make War your enemy because of me.”

  The door behind us slammed open. Stupidly, I lifted my hope-filled gaze, only to be disappointed. Again. When was I finally going to accept that hope had forsaken me long before War or anyone else had?

  “Hola, Lace.” King lumbered over to us, his expression gentle. “You okay?”

  “Hola to you too,” I said, but I didn’t answer his question. My status was to be determined.

  “You’re not okay.” Shaking his head, King stepped into the glow of the streetlight along with Dizzy and me. “War is an hijo de puta.”

  A son of a bitch. Yeah, that was accurate.

  “Let me take her home, ese?” King moved between me and my brother. “You need to go back inside. Represent with those reps. The shit they’re talking about seems serious.”

  “What about you?” Dizzy asked him.

  “Mi hermano Sager has my back.” My brother.

  “All right, if . . .” Dizzy paused, glancing at me.

  “Go ahead. I’ll be fine. King can take care of me.”

  “I love you.” My brother threw his arms around me and hugged me tight.

  “Love you too,” I whispered.

  My throat was raw as I watched him go back inside. We rarely exchanged those three words. To us, love was important and not to be taken lightly. Our mother had been a wretched example, taking us for granted, rarely speaking of love, and showing it even less. Uncle Bruce never did. He didn’t even factor in my mind as family.

  “Dizzy’s a good brother,” King said softly.

  “Yes, he is.” I nodded, then shivered as a blast of cold wind sliced right through me.

  “Here.” King unzipped his jacket, shrugged out of it, and draped it around my shoulders.

  I tried but couldn’t avoid seeing the concern in his gaze. I also couldn’t avoid remembering my first walk with War, when he’d carefully placed his hoodie around my shoulders. He’d won my heart that night, sharing his secrets and being gentle
with me.

  Had I made a mistake? Had it all been a lie?

  “Thank you, King,” I said, then cleared my throat. His kindness shone brightly in a night that had turned darker than dark. I’d lost my boyfriend and probably even my role in the band. Cold, I drew King’s jacket that retained his body heat around me.

  “You’re welcome.” He moved closer.

  “It means a lot to me, you doing this.” My nostrils and eyes stinging, I dropped my gaze, training it on his Cannibal Corpse T-shirt as if the macabre design somehow contained the answers to the universe.

  “Lace, maybe it will help if we talk—”

  “You going to be okay without your jacket?” I asked, interrupting him. My voice cracked under all the strain. “It’s pretty cold out here.”

  After only a slight hesitation, he said, “Sí, soy bueno.” Yes, I’m fine. “It’s not that far to walk.”

  “Six blocks,” I said, and he shrugged.

  “Better get going then. Mind if I put my arm around you?”

  Meeting his gaze, I said, “I don’t mind.”

  “To keep you safe and both of us warm.” Gathering me close, he gave me a long look and shook his head sadly. “Oh, la pobrecita.” Poor little girl.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Not me. You. You’re crying.”

  “I’m not.” I crushed the polyester of his track jacket in my grip.

  He gave me a skeptical look. “If you say so.”

  “I do.” My cheeks were dry; it was only my eyes that were swimming.

  “Okay,” he said.

  His arm lay heavy on my shoulders, but it was comforting to be held. He was comforting to have beside me. King was an imposing figure, and the few Footit’s patrons remaining in the parking lot gave us both a wide berth.

  As we turned right at the end of the parking lot, then crossed the street at the crosswalk, I began to feel slightly less emotional and a lot less concerned about my surroundings. Strolling along the deserted Ave at this time of night, Southside was almost peaceful. No gunshots. No dogs barking. No sirens . . . at least not at the moment.

  King filled the silence, peppering me with questions about music. He thought it was highly amusing that I liked Britney Spears and Metallica.