The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  My fingers fisted in his shirt. I suddenly needed something to hold on to, to keep my balance in a world that felt like it was shifting beneath my feet. In a world that had suddenly been reduced to just the two of us.

  His lips moved, a gentle persuasion, coaxing mine to open. The shaking escalated into a seismic explosion the instant his tongue rubbed softly against mine.

  I tasted him. He was the dream. My hope. My chance to be the woman I’d always wanted to be.

  He moaned, and I whimpered for more.

  Suddenly, he pulled away, creating a separation I knew neither of us really wanted. When I heard War’s voice, I stepped back too.

  But if I had it to do over again, if I’d known at the time just how wide that gulf between Bryan and me would become, I would have never let him go.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Bryan

  Present day

  I watched as the guys congratulated Lace on her performance during sound check in Philadelphia. I was just about to go over and do the same when War showed up, the tail end of a long black scarf trailing behind him as he stalked toward her.

  I stopped, tension holding me fisted in its grip. The realization hit me hard that I could wish all I wanted, but War would always be a wedge between Lace and me.

  “What the fuck, Lacey?” War’s expression was livid. “Why the hell didn’t you sing that yesterday when I asked you to?”

  She didn’t answer, but her chin rose.

  “You’re doing it just like that tomorrow night in Atlanta,” he said loudly, avoiding looking at me.

  “No, War. I’m not.” Her eyes flashed, and her hands balled angrily at her sides. “I was just messing around for King and Sager.”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer,” War bellowed, and she jumped up from her seat at the piano. They faced off like two opponents in a ring.

  “I’m my own person, Warren Jinkins!” she yelled, leaning in toward him, her hands moving to her hips. “Stop riding me. I’ll decide what I will and won’t do.”

  “War, hey.” I walked over to him with my hands spread out. “Maybe you should—”

  “Stay the fuck out of it, Bry,” he shouted, his anger veering toward me like I wanted it to.

  Lace took advantage of the distraction I provided and spun around, her footsteps echoing as she stomped off the stage.

  War’s gaze cut back to me. “Bullet, go—”

  “Not this time,” I said, cutting him and that shit off. “I’m done being the peacemaker. You want her, then you go after her. But I’d suggest you let her cool down first if you want to get anywhere.”

  “Hey, guys,” a voice said, and we both turned as Marcus Anthony strutted up to us like he owned the place. “BS is up.”

  Was this asshole totally oblivious? His timing certainly sucked.

  “Back the fuck off, chief.” War pointed to his watch, and Marcus frowned. “Tempest still has five more minutes.”

  I grinned. Couldn’t help it. Shit like this reminded me why War and I were so tight.

  I was tempted to give War a congratulatory fist bump right there in front of Marcus’s arrogant face.

  Just because Brutal Strength was headlining, and Marcus got to fly around in a big jet while we rode on tour buses with the roadies, didn’t mean his shit didn’t stink. It hadn’t been that long ago that Brutal Strength had been an opening band just like us. And it hadn’t been that long ago that Marcus’s fist had made a little contact with my face.

  Granted, I’d punched him first. But still.

  In a blatantly dismissive move, War turned his back on Marcus and stepped up to the center mic. He tapped it once and looked over his shoulder at King. “‘My Way or the Highway.’ Count it out.”

  King’s sticks tapped out a beat, and War began to sing.

  Speeding through the intersection

  Crowding the yellow line

  I’m not about to change direction

  Close your eyes, we’ll be fine

  ’Cause it’s my way or the highway

  Just so you know

  My way or the highway

  I’ll show you where to go

  I bet you think that I’ve gone crazy

  Maybe I’m a bit disturbed

  But you better quit with all your bitchin’

  Or I’ll kick you to the curb

  ’Cause it’s my way or the highway

  Just so you know

  My way or the highway

  I’ll tell you where to go

  Don’t wag that finger at me

  Act like you got a choice

  ’Cause I got a different finger for ya

  I’m through with all your noise

  ’Cause it’s my way or the highway

  Don’t say I didn’t tell ya so

  My way or the highway, baby

  It’s over now, just fuckin’ go

  You’ve been a sweet ride, honey

  • • •

  When we got back to the hotel, War jogged up beside me. “Got a minute?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  When I stopped, he threw an arm around my shoulders and steered me to the right. “Come get a drink with me in the bar.”

  As soon as we entered the low-lit lounge, its every available surface covered with the Philadelphia Eagles motif, War excused himself. “Order me a beer. I’ll be right back.”

  I grabbed a seat and was already nursing a Kinsinger, munching on some peanuts and watching the game on the wall-mounted television, when War returned from the restroom. He sniffed a couple of times and I frowned, not fooled for a minute.

  “You told me you’d stopped doing that shit.” I glared at him, my voice just loud enough to be heard over the television.

  “Shhh.” War cast a nervous glance around the half-empty room.

  A prickle of unease tingled its way along my scalp as a disturbing thought occurred to me. What if Lace is doing drugs with him?

  No way. She wouldn’t.

  She’d only been drunk the other night. After the crap we’d seen with her mother that Lace had lived through, not just seen, I totally ruled out anything more.

  I leaned in closer. “Seriously, War, I don’t want a repeat of the RCA tour. It took me six months to pay off my part of RCA’s advance using Black Cat funds, and this long to rebuild enough savings to get my mom into a house. Don’t fuck this up for us again with drugs and bullshit, man.”

  We all went a little too crazy on that tour. Too much booze, too many strippers, too many hotel rooms trashed. RCA cut us, leaving us to repay the advance money we’d already spent. We were just lucky Black Cat was standing in the wings, willing to take a chance on us with a contract containing a lot of behavior-clause modifications.

  “I’m not gonna fuck up shit, Mama Jackson.” He gave me an arrogant look that didn’t eliminate my unease. “I just need a little help to be on for tonight’s show. Don’t go all narc on me just because you don’t do ’em. I have it under control.”

  “Really?” My brows rose. “You almost slept past sound check today.”

  “Now that you mentioned band stuff . . .”

  War frowned and reached for the beer bottle the bartender placed on a coaster in front of him. Tipping it back between his fingers, he took a long swig while watching me. This was his version of a dramatic pause. I was well acquainted with his shit.

  Setting down his bottle, he frowned. “Gotta say, I didn’t like the way you countermanded me in front of everyone, especially when it comes to Lace.”

  “Now wait a minute.” I tensed, ready for a fight.

  “Don’t get all defensive. I realize it’s been difficult having her on the bus with us.” War propped his elbows on the bar.

  He has no fucking idea.

  “You need to chill, Bry. Tempest has a real good thing going right now.” Straightening, he threw the scarf’s end over his shoulder and leaned back in his bar stool. “Have you seen the press stuff that PR chick from Black Cat keeps emailing
over?”

  I nodded. “I’ve seen it.”

  “Right. So you know ‘We’re Through’ is top ten on the Billboard. That’s fucking huge.” War pulled his sunglasses off his head and tossed them onto the bar before taking another swig of beer.

  “Yeah, so? What does that have to do with anything?”

  “So, I know you weren’t happy when I insisted that we take the deal that excluded Lace. I know her being here is bringing back all that shit. It was a real tough time with the group, but that’s in the past. She’s back where she should be, in my bed, right beside me.” He narrowed his eyes, and I clenched my fingers into fists in response to that statement. “And the fact that we’re about to hit it big, bigger even than before, just proves that I made the right decision.”

  Deep down, I might agree that Tempest functioned best as an all-guy band. But I didn’t agree with his methods. If it had been up to me, I would have left that RCA deal on the table. I never would have left her behind.

  “If you believe that,” I said, “then why are you pushing so hard to get Lace to perform with us?”

  “Same reason I wanted her to come out with us on the road when we were with RCA. Visibility. Exposure. You heard her today. She’s the shit. All it’s gonna take is the right person to hear her. She has the potential to be a bigger deal than that British chick who came out of nowhere last year and won a Grammy.”

  War stared at me, his eyes so narrowed now, they were slivers of dark without any light as he continued.

  “Lace doesn’t know what’s good for her. If left up to her, she makes piss-poor decisions, one after the other. Like putting me off so long before we went all the way. Like wasting all that time on school and the SAT. Like hooking up with Martin to spite me. If it weren’t for that stupid two-year detour with that loser, she’d probably already be a huge star.”

  “War,” I said low. Not agreeing with any of that shit except the part about Martin, I swiped a thumb across the condensation on my glass, choosing my words carefully. “Did you ever stop to think maybe singing isn’t what she wants? This lifestyle, being in the business, it’s hard. It’s not for everyone. She’s really into fashion. She could still go back to school.”

  War snorted. “Bullshit. That would be a fucking waste of her time and her talent.” He slammed his beer down so hard, the glass clattered on the granite surface of the bar. “Lace is going to be up on that stage in Atlanta. Rolling Stone is coming to do a feature on us, and it’s the perfect opportunity for her to show everyone what she’s got. And I want you to back me up on this. I expect you to, with the band and with her. You’re way too soft on her. You always have been.”

  War then clapped me on the back as if he thought that would make his words easier to accept. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I love that bitch. You know I do.”

  Yeah, I knew. Though I was beginning to think more and more that he didn’t love her enough, and certainly not the way she deserved.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling stretched to the snapping point.

  Just like I’d been back in high school.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lace

  All by myself in the front lounge of the bus, I stared out the window, watching snowflakes drift down one after another, adding to the already foot-and-a-half-high berm along I-95. We were headed south on our way to the Atlanta show.

  War was passed out in the back, just like he’d been since I returned to the bus. He’d made me so mad earlier that I skipped the show, wandered around Philly until it got dark, and then camped out in a local bookstore, thumbing through fashion magazines until the store closed.

  It was nearing dawn now, and I still hadn’t slept any. I rested my head in my hands. Pine trees stood along the roadside, lonely sentinels, tall and dark except for their adornment of white. A similar winter wonderland scene had been the picture on the front of our prom invitations. Prom and Bryan had been on my mind nonstop since our conversation in the elevator.

  Was it possible that prom had meant to him what it meant to me?

  • • •

  Four years ago

  I set the vellum prom invitation on my comforter and crossed to the dresser, looking at myself in the mirror.

  I was in love with this dress. So what if it didn’t fit the winter theme? It was a genuine vintage sixties dress with spaghetti straps, a straight bodice, and a black lace skirt over a blush-pink underlayer. I’d added a black silk ribbon around my neck instead of jewelry—I couldn’t afford jewelry—and let my hair cascade long and straight around my bare shoulders.

  I practiced a smile. I needed the practice, since I hadn’t been doing much smiling lately. Not since I’d told Bryan how I felt. Not since that kiss on the beach. Not since I’d seen him with Missy at Kyle’s.

  I’d been so naive, thinking that our kiss had been special, that it had meant something, that I meant something to him.

  War had been right. What it meant was that Bryan was a guy like any other, taking what was thrown at him, and not the honor-bound knight on a white steed that I’d made him out to be since I was a little girl.

  Bryan didn’t want my love, or even the action.

  Get over him, Lace Lowell. He’s not who you thought he was. He’s not worth it.

  I pressed my lips together and turned away from my reflection. Tonight wasn’t about Bryan. It wasn’t about the SAT. It wasn’t even about school anymore either. That was all over. It was just War and me and going forward.

  War loved me. War wanted me, and I was lucky to have him. Most of the girls at Southside High wished they were in my shoes. It was time to show him how much I cared.

  Pep talk over.

  Pushing aside my trepidation at my decision, I glanced at the bedside clock and frowned. My handsome guy was late, over an hour now. I hadn’t realized. Why hasn’t War called?

  “Lace,” Dizzy shouted from the stairwell.

  Finally, I thought as I opened my bedroom door.

  Out in the hallway, Dizzy’s eyebrows rose. “Where’d you get that dress?”

  “The consignment shop. Took it in a little bit,” I said with a shrug.

  “You look really beautiful.” He took my hand and placed it on his arm, escorting me toward the stairs.

  “Why aren’t you dressed, Diz?” I asked as we descended the stairs. “I thought you were going with Elaine.”

  “There’s been a change in plans. I’m running to the drugstore for War, then going over to his place. He’s sick off his ass. Told me he’s been retching his guts out for the past couple of hours.”

  “Oh no! Why’d you let me get all dressed up?” Annoyed, I stopped on the stairs, then froze when I saw Bryan standing at the bottom.

  “Hey, Lace.” Bryan gazed intently at me. “You look incredible.”

  Not as incredible as him. Bryan looked amazing in a traditional tux with a black bow tie, layers of his brown hair practically tangling in his long lashes.

  “Hope it’s okay if I take you instead.”

  “Sure,” I managed to say, practically drowning in his sexy hooded eyes.

  He stepped forward, a dream fulfilled from the storybook pages of my mind. I met him at the bottom of the stairs, and when he slid a white rose wrist corsage on my arm, I inhaled sharply. Chill bumps broke out all over me as his fingertips brushed across the delicate skin of my inner wrist.

  Dizzy’s brow creased as he looked back and forth between the two of us. He cleared his throat. “Bryan, can I see you in the kitchen for a minute?”

  Bryan lifted his chin and followed my brother through the living room and into the kitchen. The swinging door closed behind them.

  Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I smoothed my dress and stared at that closed door. I wanted to know what they were saying, but it was a private conversation. It would be wrong to listen, except that I knew it was a conversation about me.

  Hesitating only a moment longer, curiosity won out, and I followed them. As soon as I go
t close, I could hear their harsh whispers behind the swinging door. I was just moving closer when Bryan suddenly came back out.

  “Where’s Dizzy,” I asked, glancing over his shoulder.

  “He went on.” Bryan placed a hand on the center of my back and guided me toward the front door. “We’d better get going. We’re already too late for your dinner reservation. We’ll miss the dance if we don’t leave soon.”

  As soon as I stepped out onto the front porch and saw the limo waiting at the curb, I glanced shyly at Bryan. “You didn’t have to do this for Warren.”

  “I’m not doing it for him.”

  Bryan stared at me, the overhead porch light illuminating the intense gleam in his eyes. He reached out and ran a hand through my hair, sifting the individual strands through his fingers. Somewhere in the distance, a car door slammed.

  “I’m doing it for you,” he said with a small smile. “You deserve a night like this. Come on.” He took my hand and led me to the limo.

  Everything about the night from that moment on was pure magic. For the first time in my life, I felt like the fairy-tale princess I’d always dreamed of being. I didn’t even try to pretend it was the dress. I knew it was being with Bryan.

  Arm in arm and dressed in my finery, I let go of all my concerns, lived for the moment, and danced with my prince. As we moved together, I unashamedly allowed myself the pleasure of touching and looking at him, without even attempting to hide how I felt. He held my hand cradled to his chest, and by the time the last slow song of the evening began, I’d convinced myself he felt the same way about me that I did about him.

  Back in the limo, I snuggled close to him, laying my head on his strong shoulder while he stroked my hair. I sighed contentedly. But before long, I glanced out the tinted window and saw we were pulling up to my house.

  Was it midnight already? I didn’t want the magical night to end. Couldn’t bear to go back to a reality where he was so close and yet so distant.