To help your friend or relative
Offer emotional support, understanding, patience, and encouragement.
Talk to him or her, and listen carefully.
Never dismiss feelings, but point out realities and offer hope.
Never ignore comments about suicide, and report them to your loved one’s therapist or doctor.
Invite your loved one out for walks, outings and other activities. Keep trying if he or she declines, but don’t push him or her to take on too much too soon.
Provide assistance in getting to the doctor’s appointments.
Remind your loved one that with time and treatment, the depression will lift.
How can I help myself if I am depressed?
If you have depression, you may feel exhausted, helpless, and hopeless. It may be extremely difficult to take any action to help yourself. But as you begin to recognize your depression and begin treatment, you will start to feel better.
To Help Yourself
Do not wait too long to get evaluated or treated. There is research showing the longer one waits, the greater the impairment can be down the road. Try to see a professional as soon as possible.
Try to be active and exercise. Go to a movie, a ballgame, or another event or activity that you once enjoyed.
Set realistic goals for yourself.
Break up large tasks into small ones, set some priorities and do what you can as you can.
Try to spend time with other people and confide in a trusted friend or relative. Try not to isolate yourself, and let others help you.
Expect your mood to improve gradually, not immediately. Do not expect to suddenly “snap out of” your depression. Often during treatment for depression, sleep and appetite will begin to improve before your depressed mood lifts.
Postpone important decisions, such as getting married or divorced or changing jobs, until you feel better. Discuss decisions with others who know you well and have a more objective view of your situation.
Remember that positive thinking will replace negative thoughts as your depression responds to treatment.
Continue to educate yourself about depression.
RELENTLESS RHYTHM
The aspect of music comprising all the elements (as accent, meter, and tempo) that relate to forward movement.
PROLOGUE
Dizzy
My knee bounced anxiously, out of sync with the light pattern on the dance floor behind me. I tried not to focus on how late she was or how panicked my reflection looked between flashes in the mirror that framed the bar. The heavy bass rhythm of the digitally remixed cover of Brutal Strength’s ‘Brothers’ was starting to drive me crazy, my nerves stretched tighter than the E string on my Gibson SG.
This was a bad idea.
Strike that.
A really bad idea.
One of my worst.
I should’ve just told her how it was going to be. I shouldn’t have given her any options.
I wrapped my fingers tighter around the snifter between them instead of drumming them on the oak surface the way she did whenever she was nervous. My silver thumb ring clinked dully against the thick glass as I adjusted my grip, staring into the amber liquid it contained. My vision went blurry remembering how she had compared the color to my eyes.
We’d wasted so much time dancing around what had always been there between us. I couldn’t seem to shake this awful feeling that it was too late, that we had waited far too long.
Worry sloshed against the sides of my stomach like the drink did in the glass I held in my hands. I was a wreck, but tried not to let it show. Keeping up the pretense, I pretended that warming the brandy was my only concern.
“You’ve been nursing that one a while,” Montana Sims’ deep voice boomed louder than the club music nearly making me jump out of my skin. Polishing a beer mug with a bar towel, wearing a Harley Davidson Henley that betrayed his one other passion besides his bar, the crease between his shaggy red brows deepened as he studied me. I shifted in my barstool not because I was uncomfortable with his scrutiny but more that his massive body was blocking my view of the employee entrance in the mirror behind him.
“Let me get you another one of those, Son.” The Diamond Mine’s owner lightly lined freckled face softened. “On the house,” he added when I shook my head in refusal. “It’s the least I can do.” His mouth formed a familiar smile, but the look in his eyes didn’t gel with it, making me wonder if it was possible that he was worried about her, too. “Maybe the Martell X.O.”
“Be a waste to break open that limited edition stuff for me.” I certainly wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to enjoy it. And wouldn’t be until I finally saw her walk through that door.
“I insist. You’re practically family. Besides, you look like you could use a little pick me up. Humor an old man.” His strong features stretching into stubborn lines, he slid a fresh glass toward me.
“Alright, thanks.” I could see that there was no point in arguing further. He was just as stubborn as my sister Lace whenever she made up her mind about something. “But you know you’re not old, Tan.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. I guess it all depends on your point of view.” A gold filling in his incisor flashed at me inside a ready smile. “But I don’t need you sweet talking me, Dizzy Lowell. I’ve been a big fan of yours all along. It just took a bit longer for some of us to come around and appreciate your potential.” He winked, and that’s when I read the truth within his steady gaze.
He knew about us.
He was right. It had taken her a long time. So damn long that I had thought I would never be given a chance.
Even though he was a big guy, Tan moved efficiently and almost as easily as she did behind the bar, sliding the bottle he wanted off its perch on the glass shelf. I took advantage of his momentary distraction, lifting my gaze to that spot in the mirror and immediately squeezing my eyes shut in frustration when it continued to remain empty.
Where the bloody hell was she?
I refused to consider the possibility that she wouldn’t show. She’d come. She had to. She’d promised me.
Tan was watching me carefully when I opened my eyes. He uncapped the Martell.
Be cool like your reputation, Diz. Smooth as the finish on that aged brandy he’s pouring.
Following the steps the way she’d demonstrated, I examined the golden amber surface color and swirled my glass releasing the ground spice and rich red berry aroma. Hoping the alcohol in the thirty-five year aged cognac would burn off some of the edge in my mood, I lifted my glass to Tan in approval before taking a measured sip. The rounded and fruity flavors of fig and walnut followed by the finesse of Grande Champagne crossed my palate immediately and warmth spread from my throat to my chest, developing into a silken finish. “Outstanding,” I told him, holding his gaze for a moment before looking around the club as though I’d just noted she wasn’t around. “Hey, have you seen April this evening?”
“No, but it’s her night off. Were you expecting her?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I scrambled for a cover story that wouldn’t compromise her. Though now I was starting to get worried and a little pissed. “Mel said something about them coming in to shoot some pool.”
Tan frowned. “That so? Well, I haven’t seen either one. Have you tried calling?”
I nodded like that was an option. One wasn’t speaking to me. The other I couldn’t call.
Tan must have read the panic and frustration on my face. He leaned in closer and spoke low, “Love that woman like she was my own daughter.” He held my gaze seeming to want me to pay close attention. “But I worry about her. I’ve heard things, about James, if you know what I mean?”
Ah, so apparently we both knew her secrets, maybe even the part she had hidden from me for so long. Fear froze my vocal cords as his comment brought to the forefront the thought that had fueled my worry. The one I’d kept trying to push back.
I slid out my cell.
Enoug
h of this bloody waiting.
It was time to figure out where she was and what was going on. Consequences be damned.
I wanted her standing across from me right now. Wearing that smile that I’d been able to coax out of her more and more lately despite the circumstances. Her leaning an elbow on the bar, her pretty face close enough that I could see the bronze flecks in her jade colored eyes. The two of us together within the make believe world we’d created. The one in which that platinum band on her left hand didn’t exist.
CHAPTER ONE
April
“He’s seriously h.a.w.t.” Mel, my best friend since I’d begun working at the Mine, spelled the letters out before she let out a longing sigh. “Don’t you think so, April?”
“Who, baby?” I finished filling a couple of tumblers with ice before looking up. The blue haired imp was fanning her cute heart shaped face with tatted hands that spelled out her nickname in fanciful script above her knuckles.
I really didn’t need the clarification. I’d seen him when he’d come in. Her latest crush. She usually had a new one weekly, but not this time around. Her interest in this one hadn’t dwindled. It had intensified. Constant contact with him at the club and whenever she recorded background vocals at Black Cat Records, fed the fetish, I believed.
“Dizzy Lowell,” she confirmed grabbing my hand and curling her fingers tightly around mine, stopping me mid pour. His name was accompanied by a longer, breathier sigh befitting the guy’s rock star status. The sexy rhythm guitarist and his band Tempest were on the cusp of mega success and probably would’ve been there already if not for the recent vacancy at lead singer.
“OMG that piercing on his lip kills me!” she exclaimed fluttering her lids and practically swooning backward onto the bar. “I want him so bad.” Everything Melinda T. Belle did was high drama. She lived her life in perpetual motion, never letting a single moment go by without wringing every single ounce of joy from it.
Mel brought a definitive sparkle into my life that had recently been eclipsed by way too much dark. She’d lost her mom as a child the way I’d lost my biological father, and we’d bonded over that commonality. My world was a much brighter place because she was a part of it. I was so grateful for her, and though I often felt like our friendship was lopsided, that I needed her much more than she needed me, I still clung to her like she was the only life raft in my shipwrecked sea.
“Have you noticed the way he bites down on it?” She grabbed my face and smushed my cheek into hers forcing me to gaze upon the object of her desire.
It wasn’t a hardship. I’ll admit it. The guy was an intoxicating visual mixer. Handsome. Intense. Unforgettable. His mostly Kahlua hair was styled into spikes tonight, the club lights glinting off the splashes of Godiva White Chocolate Liquor highlights.
Dizzy lazily surveyed the Diamond Mine with his sexy brandy hued eyes as though he owned it. He didn’t of course. Not the building or its contents. Those belonged to my boss, Montana Simms. Tan to those he considered friends. But the women were Dizzy’s, whichever one he chose. As one of the bartenders, I had a premium courtside seat to watch him. Night after night he waved his royal scepter and his subjects swooned, each his to command… if the roguish prince decided he wanted to.
He was in with his usuals, his bandmates from Tempest: Bryan Jackson, faux hawked, grey eyed, and popular lead guitarist. Sager Reed, the artistic, tatted up, and inky haired bassist. King Acenado, the hot Hispanic drummer with the wicked sense of humor and volatile temper.
Dizzy was in the middle of the VIP booth he and his crew shared, his arms thrown wide across the back cushion. The edges of his sculpted lips were curled into a sardonic grin and his trademark black leather jacket was completely unzipped and open tonight revealing his toned physique beneath it.
The guy was unbelievably hot, almost too good looking to be real. Legendary in other ways, too, if you believed the talk.
Remembering some of the more graphic specifics heated my cheeks and made my throat suddenly dry. I squeezed Mel’s hand before reaching underneath the counter to snag a bottled water I always kept stowed there during my shift. I uncapped it and took a long sip to quench my thirst.
“I know, right?” She grabbed the bottle, took a sip of her own, and wiggled her manicured brows at me.
I started to deny that he had any effect on me, but decided why bother? I might be married, but I wasn’t comatose. I had eyes to see. I could acknowledge sinful beauty like his when it was sprawled out in all its glory.
“Yeah, he’s delish.” I buzzed her on the cheek with my lips before putting the water away.
Mel grinned mischievously. “He makes my toes curl. I wanna do things to him. Bad things.”
“So do most of the woman in the bar, and most of them already have,” I cautioned. “He’s not very discriminating, and you’re way too good for him.” And she was way too emotionally brittle beneath her brash veneer. A guy like that would crush her sensitive spirit without even noticing.
I couldn’t tell her what I really wanted to say, that I wanted her to stay far away from him. I’d been her age… once… not too long ago actually. Once upon a time, I’d been just like her. Young, carefree, blissfully ignorant of danger, doing what I wanted to do and sassing anyone who tried to keep me from doing it.
“Can I get some Molsons and Cokes?” The groove of Mel’s solitary dimple flashed in her softly rounded cheek. “I promised I’d bring them over.”
“Sure, Sweetie. How many do you need?” I was doing another order but would put it on hold for her. She was my friend. The only one I had really, since I had too many secrets to hide to handle more.
“Four beers, two sodas.”
I lifted a brow, gaze drifting back to the VIP booth for a quick head count, noting additional details I’d bypassed earlier. Sager had his chin down, his angular face aglow from the backlight of his ever present iPad. King gesticulated wildly with what I assumed was the latest retelling of one of his outlandish escapades. And two new additions, a red headed guy alone on the far end of the table and a beautiful blonde with short hair who had climbed onto Bryan’s lap. I recognized her as Dizzy’s sister, Lace. The handsome guitarist was rubbing his chin across the top of her head. If they weren’t on the other side of the club I imagined I would have been able to hear his contented sighs. They looked so in love, so good together. That certainly explained why he’d never showed any interest in the women who came onto him whenever he visited the Mine.
I felt a little twinge inside my chest watching them and remembering when it had been like that for me and James, or so I liked to imagine. I brushed that wistful thought away before it could completely pollute my mood. Our relationship was what it was now. I didn’t like to dwell on it, especially not at work. I had gotten quite adept at compartmentalizing my life. James had too, apparently, though his way left devastation in its wake.
I allowed myself one last envious glance at the couple, lingering as they gazed into each other’s eyes as if no one and nothing else in the world existed outside the two of them.
That was heady stuff right there, having a man so into you that he wouldn’t even consider looking at another. But that sacrificial component was always present in love’s purest form. That feeling that you would do anything to make the other person happy and that confidence that they would do the same. Yeah, I still believed in the concept. I’d seen it in my mother’s marriage.
I really liked people watching. I had lots of opportunities to do it while working behind the bar. Bartending was my job, and I loved it. But writing was my escape, and watching Bryan and Lace had given me new ideas for the characters in my fanciful tale.
My gaze wandered to the other handsome, vaguely familiar redhead. I squinted as I studied him. He seemed out of place with the rest, like he didn’t know them all that well or at least not well enough to be relaxed. He seemed distracted, too. While the others laughed at something the drummer was saying, Red’s gaze remained straight ahe
ad, lost in thought, stalled out on the empty stage in front of him.
It was currently empty because Ebb Tide, our house band, the one Mel’s dad fronted, and the one she frequently guested on, had the night off. It was open mic, but no one seemed to be in the mood to sing.
While I filled the last mug on Mel’s order, Red stood and leaned over the table saying something to the others before heading our way. He had to dodge the crowd surging toward the dance floor drawn by the dubstep pounding out the speakers. More than a few women paused to watch him as he passed.
Not a bad looking one in that whole Tempest bunch. Talented and easy on the eyes, as near a sure bet as one could be in the music business.
I felt Mel’s stare and turned to look at her. Her sapphire eyes were twinkling with amusement she didn’t try to hide. She grinned wider when I snapped my slacked jaw shut. She’d caught me mooning over Red. I rolled my eyes at her, refocusing on the order, carefully arranging the Molsons on the bar tray.
“That’s Justin,” she informed me as if I’d voiced the question aloud. I could hear the smile in her voice. “Tempest’s new lead singer.”
“Hey.” Justin scooted in sideways filling the small amount of space between Mel and another bar patron. His gorgeous emerald eyes sliding back and forth between us, he put his hands on the bar. “It’ll only be the four beers and one Coke this round. I’ve gotta take off, but I wanna pick up the tab.” He offered me his credit card. I took it and hopped over to the register, dragging my gaze away from the tantalizing view.
As I was ringing up the sale, I registered the full name on the receipt.
Holy Shit. I looked back at him, suddenly putting everything together and realizing why he’d looked so familiar. He was Justin Jones, the twin brother of Avery Jones, the famous female guitarist for Brutal Strength. My favorite band in the whole world. Ever since high school. After all they were the local BC band who had made it big. But I liked them even more now that Avery had joined them. I couldn’t help but admire her. She was a guitarist in a rock band, a rarity in a profession dominated by men.
The Complete Tempest World Box Set Page 104
