The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  It was time to go.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Shaina

  I staggered into the stall, latched the door, and dropped down, my bare knees sticking to the cold nasty tile floor. I barely got my face over the toilet seat before I started retching.

  Over and over again.

  When there was nothing left, when I was past the dry heaving stage (this was a process I’d become quite familiar with in the past two weeks that I had been filming in Vancouver) I used the toilet seat for leverage and got up. Don’t judge. I wouldn’t forget to wash my hands.

  Stumbling in my stilettoes, feet sore and head pounding, I turned on the faucet and washed my hands. Twice. With extra soap. Then splashed cold water on my face.

  I looked at myself in the gilded rhinestone encrusted mirror. A replica of the magic mirror from Snow White. I sure as hell wasn’t the fairest of them all. My cheeks were sunken from the weight I’d lost. Food didn’t interest me. My eyes were red and bleary from lack of sleep and too much partying after work. My complexion was paler than usual, and my skin was clammy. Apparently cocaine and tequila shots were a toxic brew.

  Good to know.

  With a shaky hand, I dug in my purse for my travel sized toothbrush and toothpaste. I’d learned to come prepared for almost anything after the first time I’d ended up on my knees in a bathroom stall. I reapplied my lipstick and fixed my eyeliner and exited the ladies restroom at the Diamond Mine club. Outside a line ten women deep waited, ten sets of eyes all scowling at me.

  “Took you long enough, bitch,” a Goth chick spit near my feet. Lucky for me, she missed. With my stomach still unsettled, I would’ve lost it again if her spittle had stuck between my toes.

  Smoothing my hands down my leather shorts and pulling the strap of my bra back into place beneath my see through mesh top, I weaved my way through the popular club, passing the bar and crossing over the bouncing dance floor. After that I made my way carefully up the dramatic gold railed circular staircase to the private platform were my friends were waiting.

  Brandon Law clumsily scraped his jet black hair out of his light blue eyes when he saw me. My romantic lead attempted to sit up straighter in the purple booth. His eyes sparkled in the low lighting looking even better off camera, and he knew it too. Blue was better, I told myself. I didn’t allow myself to think about oak colored ones anymore.

  Brandon gave me his slumbering drop your panties smile. I didn’t. I wasn’t totally immune to his charms, but I hadn’t slept with him yet. Not for lack of trying on his part, more for lack of enthusiasm on mine. Brandon was fine and all, but I hadn’t decided if he was the one I wanted to go there with. The booze and the drugs were all things I did to my own body. Letting someone else do stuff to me, well, I wasn’t quite ready for that.

  I scooted into the booth, not even attempting a smile. He threw his arm around me. “You ok?”

  “Sure. Nothing a little dust can’t fix, right?”

  He nodded. If I thought the amount I had been doing was a lot, the amount Brandon routinely went for was exponentially more. He’d had a nosebleed on set that’d stopped filming for an entire day. Rumor was he had burned a hole in his nasal septum from chronic cocaine use.

  Brandon reached in his jeans pocket and pulled out a mirrored business card holder. He had his own travel sized pack of necessities. He was fumbling around in his jacket for his stash when our private waitress showed up in her short skirt, tight Diamond Mine t-shirt, and heavy makeup. Brandon smiled the same overly familiar way he did with every woman. She ignored him, took our order, and left.

  He and I were just finishing up our second line when the rest of our party crew returned from the dance floor.

  “Come dance with me, Shaye.” Joel Alexander tugged my arm. He wasn’t classically handsome like Brandon. His eyes were too dark and his facial structure too angular, but he was good looking in a darker, more sinister fashion, with an irreverent manner that reminded me a little of someone else. The person I didn’t think about anymore.

  Joel was pretty closed off though. I didn’t know him any better after two weeks of constant time together than I’d known from day one. He also had a temper that I’d seen flare up on more than one occasion. But there was one thing that was irresistible about him. He was an awesome dancer.

  I was so juiced that I didn’t even think of turning him down. I needed to move. I put my hand in his and let him lead me down the steps to the dance floor.

  I didn’t recognize the song that was playing, but it had a great techno beat. Joel’s hands traced lightly but suggestively from my breasts to hips while I swayed with my arms over my head.

  Cell phone cameras flashed along with the dance lights. I knew people were watching. I knew we were recognized. I knew pictures had started to circulate on the internet. But I didn’t care.

  Fuck ’em.

  The dance floor was so crowded we ended up smashed against the speakers on the stage. Brandon came over and joined us. We ended up dancing together, a threesome. Joel grinding on my front and Brandon behind me.

  Joel moved closer and slid his hands down to my ass, pressing our lower bodies together. He’d been getting a little too aggressive lately. But if it was on the dance floor I allowed it. To me what happened out on the pulsing stage was just for show. As pretend as what we did for a living.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  War

  Fuck. Fuck. Fucking shit. I knocked the lamp off the nightstand trying to get to my ringing cell. My hotel room was pitch black. By the time I located the damn thing it had stopped. I flipped it over, used the light from it to right the toppled lamp, and then looked at the display.

  Dizzy. And it was three fucking a.m. My gut tightened. This couldn’t be anything good.

  I ran a hand through my hair before redialing the missed call.

  “Hey, man,” he greeted cheerily.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Were you asleep?” Incredulousness laced his tone.

  I sighed. “Yeah, Diz. I was up early yesterday with lawyers and shit.” The meeting hadn’t gone well. Morris had upped his price to a lot higher than I could swing. I’d blown too much cash on drugs and shit in the past. Even with the life insurance money from my mom, if I wanted out of my contract I was going to have to get creative and lucky. Holding me hostage when he knew I didn’t want to be with Zenith anymore almost made me think this whole deal was some kind of personal vendetta with him, like he wanted to prevent me from going back to Tempest and Black Cat, my former label. I was almost certain, since he kept mentioning her, that Mary Timmons, the CEO of Black Cat, was a critical piece to solving the problem.

  “Sorry. Sounds like that’s an ass whipping”

  He had no idea. “No big deal.” It was, but I wasn’t giving up. Not yet. My lawyer was willing to try a couple more things. “Why’d you call?”

  “I just ran into that actress you were dipping into tonight.”

  Shaina. I squeezed my eyes shut. Memories I wasn’t prepared to deal with in the middle of the night washed over me, my brain going instantly alert as he continued to speak.

  “Lace’s got it in her head that you would want to know.”

  “Know what?” I could hear my heart pounding with trepidation.

  “Shaina was fucked up, man. Majorly. Eyes dilated. High. Totally out of it. I don’t think she could’ve stayed upright if she hadn’t been propped up on the arms of the guys she was with.”

  “No shit.” I sank into the bed, shock making my limbs uncomfortably numb.

  “Oh, yeah. Believe it. When I told Lace, she did a little internet surfing. Your actress is up here in Vancouver. Filming some movie about Janis Joplin.”

  Conflicting emotions warred within me. On the one hand, I was so proud of Shaina, proud that she had stepped out and finally gotten the kind of serious role she’d always wanted, but on the other hand, knowing she was tanked on drugs made me furious and that red hot emotion incinerated the rest.


  What the fuck was she doing? And who the hell was doing it with her?

  “You said you saw her tonight.” I prodded. “Where?”

  “A club we all hang out at. The Diamond Mine. It’s a little over the top but the music kicks ass and the chicks that hang out there are prime. Your woman didn’t see me, but I saw her. Hell, everyone saw her. That bitch can dance and she is F.I.N.E.”

  Ok. That wasn’t the type of information wasn’t what I was looking for. “How long ago?”

  “Less than an hour.”

  “Alright.” I threw my legs over the edge of the bed. I was fuckin’ wide awake now. “Thanks for the heads up. And could you let Lace know, can you tell her that…I appreciate it.”

  “Will do.”

  My hands were actually shaking when I booted up my laptop a couple of moments later. And like that car wreck on the side of the road that you know you shouldn’t look at but you do anyway, I went searching and what I found I didn’t like.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  It was a three expletive moment, probably more. She’d been busy. Stirring up Tempest-on-the-road kind of trouble. Nearly every shot had captured her in some kind of suggestive pose. It almost seemed as if she knew when her picture was being taken and posed that way on purpose. If I didn’t know better I’d say she was trying to make herself look as slutty as possible. Her wardrobe had taken a turn to the wild side, and the most recent photos were the worst.

  I stared at the screen. Just looking at the image made that raw wound in my chest ache even worse than before. I don’t know what I expected, certainly not for her to be waiting for me. But I still wanted to wring the necks of her two male co-stars. Jealousy made the inside of my stomach burn as if it were filled with sulfuric acid.

  It took everything I had in me to contain my anger when I really felt like unleashing it. Unclenching my fingers, I deep breathed a couple of times before clicking and following the threads back on both of those losers. They were into some dangerous shit. Trouble makers. One an unrepentant coke head.

  Not smart, Shaina. Not smart at all.

  By the time the sun came up, I was totally riled. Mad at her and at myself (I excelled at the self-loathing) but I was even more furious with her best friend. Where the hell was Treyall? And why the hell wasn’t he keeping her out of trouble?

  I had to pull some strings, but lucky for me his agent was a Tempest fan. I used that angle to get his personal number.

  “Alex speaking.”

  “Treyall.”

  A rustling sound. “Jinkins? Do you realize what time it is?”

  “I sure as fuck do, asshole. It’s fuckin’ past time for you to rein in Shaina.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s running all over Vancouver, strung out and in her underwear.” I glanced over at my laptop. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

  “Wait. Slow down. Shaina’s doing what? Wearing what?”

  “Where the fuck are you, anyway.” The line buzzed and popped in the background. “This connection is shit.”

  “I’m on location in South America working on a movie. It’s strictly dial up down here. I gave up on the internet after the first day. I’ve talked to Shaina on the phone, though. She seems alright.”

  “Well she sure as fuck ain’t. A buddy of mine saw her just a few hours ago.” Dizzy had grown up with a crack head mom. He was well acquainted with that scene. “He said her eyes were dilated, and that she was so out of it she couldn’t stand.” I started pacing. “It’s all over the internet, and it’s not pretty. You need to get your ass in gear and do something.”

  “What can I do, Jinkins? I’ll call her, but I’m five thousand miles away. You know how stubborn she is. She’ll stonewall me. I can try to get a flight out, but the earliest I can probably get there would be this weekend.”

  “No. That’s not soon enough,” I growled. “You’re her best friend. You need to get up there now.”

  “Why the hell do you care all of a sudden?”

  Because I didn’t like the pictures. Because her eyes were all wrong. Vacant and sad. And because I’d never stopped caring. I’d just been trying to make myself move on.

  I took a deep breath. Counted to three. It was time to lay it all out there with a living breathing person for a change. “You ever been given a gift, Treyall? Something so fuckin’ precious and beautiful you were afraid to even touch it ’cause you might break it?”

  “Sure, but if you’re talking about Shaye, why the hell did you…”

  “Because I’m an asshole, that’s why. Because she’s too fuckin’ good for me.”

  “Spare me the drama, Jinkins. You don’t have the knack for it.” He sounded exasperated. “I’m not surprised you have it bad for her, after all she told me everything. I think it’s possible she might feel the same way about you, or she used to before that last stunt you pulled. She moped around for three fucking days after that scene at your house, every day checking her phone as if she was expecting to be notified she’d won the lottery.” A pause. “You should’ve called her. Listen, I’ll do everything I can to get to Vancouver. You say you got friends there you can trust? See what they can do to help. And in the meantime, if you really care about her, then get your ass up there yourself!”

  Should I? She wouldn’t want me there. But then could Treyall be right? Had she felt the same? Had she really wanted me to call after what I had done?

  I scooped my jeans off the floor and stepped into them. It didn’t matter whether she wanted me there or not. She was in trouble. I had to go, whatever kind of reception I received, even if my leaving jeopardized my chances of getting out of my contract with Morris.

  She was worth that. She was worth everything.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Shaina

  Sunglasses on, hooded sweatshirt over my head, eyes cast down, I made my way through the soaring multi-level lobby. The muted sound of piped in music and voices echoed in the exquisitely appointed upscale space.

  I was beaten, chin dragging the marble floor after a night of excess imbibing and a frustrating morning at the recording studio.

  I couldn’t believe Sunderhouse wanted to use my voice on her songs. It was sacrilege that I repeatedly tried to talk him out of, but he’d been insistent. Although, after the poor performance I’d given today, he might’ve changed his mind.

  It was my own fault though. Partying and lack of sleep were no longer a novelty. It was embarrassing and unprofessional to show up for work hung over and unable to do the music justice. I made a promise to myself that I’d do better tomorrow.

  Sliding my key card into the slot, I accessed the private elevator. I couldn’t wait to get to my room, draw the blinds, lie down on my firm mattress, and snuggle under the sinfully soft sheets.

  “Shaina.”

  Holy Shit. I froze in the act of pressing the button. I’d dreamed about hearing that voice again, but never fully expected to, except maybe digitally, which wasn’t really the same. As though I were a puppet and he controlled the strings. I turned to face him. I swallowed nervously.

  Oak eyes glittered with intensity beneath a black bandana. How was it that he could be more handsome than ever? He was dressed head to toe in his best color. A washed out Pink Floyd tee stretched tight across the wide shoulders I’d once run my fingers over. The only deviation from the ebony theme was his faded blue jeans and his silver earrings and bracelets. And there nestled in the center of his glorious chest… my necklace.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I hid my shock and my desire behind my shades, standing completely still as if I was having cover photos taken. Even as badly as he had treated me, I wanted to throw my arms around him. I wanted to slide my sunglasses down my nose and look and look and look some more, taking my time to enjoy the view that was Warren and all his radiant rocker badass-ness.

  “Go away,” I managed to mutter instead when the silence stretched out uncomfortably between us. He seemed as incap
able of speech as I was.

  I turned away and pushed the elevator button again.

  What was it about elevators? Why were they always screwing me when he was around?

  He touched his ringed hand to my elbow. Even though the fabric kept me from appreciating fully that coveted contrast between metal and skin, I could still feel the warmth of him, and the crackle of attraction that instantly sparked. He was more tempting than Joel and Brandon put together and so much harder to resist than any drug.

  Swallowing again, dialing up my defenses, I brought my shaded gaze up to his face. “Take your damn hand off of me.”

  “We need to talk.” His eyes narrowed.

  “There’s nothing left to say. So if you don’t mind, I’ll just take a pass.”

  He ignored me, his body brushing against mine as he pulled me into the open elevator.

  Ok this was not good. The door slid closed before I could overcome my panic and react. In the tight space, he was overwhelming and smelled freaking incredible. One warm male, add a healthy helping of intimate familiarity, and sprinkle in just the right amount of Spicebomb to tantalize. My body flooded with heat. It wanted a do over. Right here. Right now. I swayed toward him.

  “You don’t look so good,” he commented, head cocked to the side as he studied me.

  “Yeah. Thanks for noticing.” I shrugged off my weakness toward him, pretending it was just that easy, and backed over to the other side of the elevator.

  He didn’t let me keep my distance, another favorite tactic of his. His sexy lips curving up was the only sign that my sarcasm had registered. He reached for me, and I stood motionless, holding my breath as though mesmerized, watching his hands come closer to my face. He lowered my hoodie. I slowly blinked at him, doing nothing but listening to my accelerating heartbeat as he smoothed one of his ringed hands over my hair, tracing the length of my mussed ponytail down to its end.

  “You’ve cut your hair.” His voice was husky, deliciously, charmingly deep.