The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die take him and cut him out in little stars,

  And he will make the face of heaven so fine

  That all the world will be in love with night,

  And pay no worship to the garish sun.”

  I poured everything I felt inside my heart into the lines Shakespeare seemed to have penned just for me and the one beside me.

  “Órale. ¡A huevo! ¡Arriba tu!” Cool! Unbelievable! Hooray for you! His approval stirred forbidden flutters inside my chest.

  Why forbidden?

  He was too old for me for one thing.

  More importantly he was my brother’s best friend.

  He was off limits. For sure.

  But did Juaquin Acenado have any idea how hard I had fallen for him?

  “You didn’t miss a word, mijita.” He swallowed, almost certainly embarrassed by the way I clung to his every utterance with my gaze. “None of this ‘where for art thou’ shit made any sense to me when I had to read it in school.” His voice deepened as he continued. “But the way you speak those words makes everything clear. The lengths Juliet would go to be with Romeo. The depths of her feelings for him.”

  What I would do for you. How much I care for you.

  My chosen prince. He sat on the couch only inches away, his eyes a welcoming amber fire. I found myself leaning toward his warmth, almost bold enough to risk voicing my innermost thoughts. I was tempted, oh so tempted, to climb onto his lap, tuck my head beneath his regal chin, lay my cheek to his sturdy chest, and bask contentedly in his steady glow. But I was sixteen. He was three years older than me. Rejection seemed certain. I knew he must view me as nothing more than a little girl. Mijita.

  “I’m just comfortable with you, Juaquin.” I gave voice to safer truths than my feelings. “You’re a great help to me.” The worn-out springs on our sofa that doubled as a bed for my brother creaked beneath me as I shifted closer. “Thanks.”

  “De nada.” It’s nothing. Clearing his throat, he glanced away, severing a connection between us that I had probably only imagined. I wanted his attention, craved it. Juaquin was less shy around me than he had been when we had first met, but there remained times like these when he retreated, barricading himself and his sensitive soul behind a wall. But I had uncovered a key that unlocked the gate to his sanctuary. His poetry. Within his descriptive rhymes lay insights into the hidden depths of the drummer in my brother’s band. How he used his humor to hide his pain, bravado to shield his heart. Also how much anger that heart caged. Anger I understood, even if it sometimes frightened me.

  “Juaquin,” I called his name softly. I knew that I could usually reach him with gentleness. “If you’ve written a new poem this week I’d love to hear it.” He turned toward me. Our gazes locked for a moment. My scalp tingled. My cheeks flushed with warmth, and my fluttering heart began to thump with anticipation. One thump. Two. A third as the moment lingered. I coveted every moment spent alone with Juaquin. I replayed everything from every single one searching for significance in them. Every word, every gesture, every facial expression, hoping to find confirmation that meant he cared for me the way I did for him.

  “There is one new one,” he admitted, raking a waterfall of ebony strands from his gorgeous amber eyes. His movement caused his knee to brush against my own. It bounced to a beat only he could hear, but I wanted to hear him, to know him, to understand everything about him if only he would let me. “It’s about a guy who meets a girl.” The mahogany striations within his eyes darkened. “A very talented girl who grows more beautiful each day. A girl he should get out of his head, if only he knew how to.” He leaned slightly closer. My heart drummed faster. His face dipped toward my own. He angled his head one way. I angled mine the other. His lids lowered. Mine lowered. Our mouths hovered an inch apart, his parting slightly. His warm breath bathed my lips.

  Please, I thought. Please kiss me.

  “Bryan should be here any minute.” My mother’s abrupt announcement from her spot in the efficiency kitchen behind us had the effect I suspect she intended. Dishes clanked together that I hadn’t noticed a moment earlier. Juaquin scooted away. The heat between us dissipated. Disappointment stifled the anticipatory flutters of my heart.

  “It sounds intriguing.” I pressed my lips together and schooled my features. “Maybe you could tell me more about it later.” Had he really been about to kiss me, or had I only imagined what I wanted to happen? “Thank you for running my lines with me. Practicing with you always makes it easier to memorize them.”

  “I can’t take the credit. That’s all you, niñita. I can’t believe how you can repeat them back to me after hearing them only one time.”

  “Yeah, well, reading them on my own is difficult because of the way my brain mixes up letters and words on the page.” I pointed to my head. “It’s a little messed up in there, but I have a phonographic memory for the things I hear. Lyrics. Dialogue in movies. Your poetry.” I dropped my gaze. Too revealing that last remark. I wasn’t ashamed of my dyslexia around Juaquin. He never treated me differently because of it. He read my lines to me at a normal tempo not ploddingly slow like most who equated my learning disability with a lack of intelligence. With him I saw only sympathy in his eyes whenever I struggled. His kindness stirred a longing within my heart that wouldn’t go away.

  “I can’t wait to see you in the show.”

  “You’re coming to see the play?” My bright tone revealed my excitement. He had never attended one of my performances.

  “Sí. Sager. Me.” He tapped his chest with his fist. “All the guys in the band.”

  “Bryan’s making you come, isn’t he?” My eyes narrowed. If that were the case, I was going to kill my big brother.

  “He might have mentioned a break in the upcoming tour schedule, and that he expected all of us to be there, but I wouldn’t miss it regardless.” His expression grew intense. “You in the spotlights with your black hair down and your grey-green eyes sparkling the way they do whenever you get emotional.” He traced a lock of my hair from the elastic that held it back to the gathered ends spilling over my shoulder. I shivered even though he never actually touched my skin. “When have you ever missed a poetry reading of mine at St. Mary’s?” he whispered.

  “Never,” I admitted. “I’ve memorized every poem you’ve shared with me.” His full lips formed a slow smile in response to my confession. My heart melted. “Juaquin…I…Maybe…Would you…” I bit down on my bottom lip fumbling for words as emotions tumbled through me. My mother cleared her throat behind us. The oven timer dinged. Juaquin’s gaze slid away, lost in those distractions. When it returned, his expression was shuttered. Distant, my prince had retreated behind his castle walls.

  “You’re a sweet kid, Miriam Jackson.” He tapped my nose with his finger.

  “I’m not a kid.” My cheeks flamed.

  “No,” he decided, running his gaze over me. “You most certainly are not.” His voice was gruff. My skin prickled with awareness everywhere his gaze had touched. He stood. “I should get going.” A shadow tarnished the polished gold of his eyes.

  “But you only just got here,” I complained unable to suppress the whining plea to my tone.

  “Tell Bryan I’ll catch him later.” He yanked down the ragged hem of his Cannibal Corpse t-shirt. It had ridden up while he had been seated. He wore it loosely to hide his stomach. His lips formed a frown that mirrored my own. I knew his weight embarrassed him the way my struggles with reading embarrassed me, but I couldn’t care less that he was overweight. I knew a regal physique didn’t equate to a noble heart. My father was living proof of that. No, it was the inner Juaquin that I had fallen for. His loyalty to my brother. His patience with me. His quick wit that never failed to make me smile whenever I was frustrated. And his marvelous ability to paint beautiful pictures with his words.

  “Please stay just a tiny bit longer. Dinner’s ready. You could eat with us. You didn’t tell me if War agreed to use the chorus you
wrote.”

  “I’m not hungry.” His frown deepening, his brows drew together into a sharp v. “And I’m not exactly on Warren Jinkins’ good side at the moment.”

  “I didn’t know he had a good side,” I mumbled.

  His lips didn’t lift into a grin at my quip, but at least they twitched in an upward direction.

  “Stay.” I stood and boldly reached for one of his bronzed hands with one of my smaller paler ones when the door to the apartment suddenly burst open. My brother stepped through the gap, letting in a chilly blast of Seattle air and the sound of a distant siren. I dropped my arm to my side and withdrew a respectable distance away from Juaquin. My brother was irrational and overprotective when it came to guys and me. I didn’t want to cause trouble between the two friends. But if Juaquin returned my feelings…

  “Hey,” Bryan offered a generic greeting, scraping off the hood of his jacket, revealing his short light brown hair. He crossed to Juaquin in a couple of strides. They clasped arms and clapped each other on the back. They launched into a discussion about what song they wanted to use to open tonight’s show, the last scheduled Tempest performance in Southside. The band had recently signed a record deal with RCA and would be going on tour after their final Seattle show.

  Time had just about run out. I didn’t have the luxury of easing into the matter of sharing my feelings. If I wanted Juaquin to know how I really felt, I was going to have to tell him. If I wanted him to see me as a woman, I was going to have to act like one. If I wanted to accomplish those things I would have to break some rules, and it would have to be tonight.

  • • •

  “Miriam, are you sure about this?”

  I smoothed my short skirt and glanced down at my sister Ann. Eyes a solid green hue narrowed in concern behind her black rimmed glasses.

  She was always the cautious one, my little sister.

  Me?

  Not so much.

  Ok, I had been cautious with Juaquin fearing his rejection.

  But I could be brave

  I had to be.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” I took a determined step away from the double bed Ann and I shared. A narrow cardboard box served as a lamp-stand and separated it from the other one where my mother slept after her night shifts. The bright red numbers on her digital alarm clock accused me. My curfew had already passed.

  It couldn’t be helped. The first of many transgressions tonight if things went according to plan. Firming my resolve, I glanced down at my outfit. My gauzy top that had a tendency to slide off one of my shoulders did nothing to hide a black bra beneath. My pleather mini skirt in red barely covered my ass. Three-inch heels that I could barely walk, let alone dance in, but they were sexy so I had to try. Being out on tour with the backing of a big label like RCA, it wouldn’t be long before the guys in Tempest got the recognition they deserved. And when they became rock stars, and we all knew they would, the groupies would follow. It was now or never to get Juaquin to notice me the way I wanted him to. Surely I could manage not to fall on my ass if I leaned onto Zackary’s arm. The handsome senior, Romeo to my Juliet in the upcoming play, awaited in the other room. He was my ticket into Footit’s, seeing that he was tight with one of the bouncers at the club Tempest was headlining tonight.

  “Bryan’s gonna freak when he sees you.” Ann studied me from her position on the bed. She looked like a young fairy tale princess in her white ankle length eyelet embroidered nightgown and spectacles. “What if he tells mom?”

  “He won’t say a damn thing unless he wants me spilling about all the times I’ve seen him and Lace Lowell up here at night while mom’s been working.”

  “Dizzy’s sister?” Ann’s delicate brows rose above her frames. “But…”

  “I know she’s with War. But I think our brother wishes it were otherwise.” I was pretty sure he didn’t want his best friend and the lead singer in the band to know how deeply his feelings for Lace ran. Not that it wasn’t obvious seeing them dancing together at the prom. But then again, my brother’s obsession with the former songstress for Tempest wasn’t the only secret within the band.

  “I gotta go.” I sighed. “Or I’ll miss the opening number.” I was dying to see Juaquin twirling his sticks up on the stage. He was mesmerizing to watch when he got going. I wanted to hear him calling out the beat. I wanted to feel each one. Over the sound system each strike against the drumheads would resonate inside my chest, and I knew that might very well be the closest I ever got to experiencing his heart beating next to mine. On that dismal thought, I leaned over my sister. My breasts practically tumbled out of the two-sizes-too-small bra as I kissed the top of her head. “Don’t wait up.”

  “You know I will. I won’t be able to sleep until I know you’re home safe. Footit’s isn’t exactly in the best part of town, and Zackary has a certain reputation.” She frowned at me. “You would do the same for me.”

  “I would do anything for you,” I stated firmly without hesitation.

  “You do too much already.” Her voice warbled, her eyes filling while mine remained dry. Not that I didn’t feel emotions as deeply as she did. Not that I didn’t love Ann as much as she loved me. It was only that I had learned to be more guarded with those fragile things. The last time our mostly absentee father had returned had taken care of that. His repeated criticisms had taught me to put up barriers. After re-breaking my mother’s heart, he had drained our meager savings dry with his binge drinking, and abandoned us once again, leaving us with nothing but each other. I didn’t have much to give to my sweet, younger sibling. But whatever I did have, I passed on to her. My nicer second-hand clothes I had Lace alter to accommodate Ann’s smaller frame. I often went without lunch so I could buy Ann books she wanted that the library didn’t own. My birthday money funded visits for her to the zoo because she aspired to be a veterinarian.

  “I don’t deserve you, Ann.”

  “That’s silly.” She sniffed and swiped at gathered tears that had been about to spill. “I wish you wouldn’t put yourself down.” Her shoulders went back. Her spine straightened. She looked much older than fourteen though she perched like Humpty Dumpty on the mound of discarded outfits on our bed. “I wish you wouldn’t dress like that either or hang around guys like Zackary. They only want one thing, you know. Your value as a person is far greater than you think it is.”

  “You sound like mom.” A scoffing sound escaped my lips. “I don’t have your brains, Ann.” She was right when it came to my self-image. Our father had done more than deplete our bank account. He had left behind an unhealable void in my heart with his harsh words. “I’ve got to use what I do have. I’ve got these.” I stuck out my tits. I had filled out and then some since I had turned sixteen. I liked to think I was shaped like Sophia Loren, one of my favorite Hollywood glam era movie actresses. I circled my hand around my face. “And this.” In my theatre classes I had learned techniques to enhance my features. I plucked my dark brows into dramatic arches to accentuate my grey-green eyes. I swept a bronzer to hollow my cheeks, and I glossed my lips to make them appear lush and full. “I’ll just have to get by with my looks.” I stamped my knuckles to my cocked hip and forced my expression to match the cynical tone I used. So what if beauty was only skin deep? I might long for a happily ever after like in Ann’s favorite stories or my old movies. But I knew they were only fantasies. Fantasies didn’t exist outside the pages of those books or the frames of those films. Fantasies were for ingénues, young and artless girls who were determined to get their hearts curb stomped. Not me. I was finished playing that role.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Maybe there are a lot of people in this world who place a premium on what their eyes can see, but I think you know that’s not true if someone really cares about you.” My extremely precocious sister captured my hand and squeezed it. “And I know you Miriam Diana Jackson. I know your heart. It’s a prize for anyone who looks beyond the superficial and finds it. You’re a caring passionate woman. And if Juaqui
n doesn’t recognize that, he isn’t worthy of you.”

  • • •

  Juaquin

  “Madre de Dios.” Miriam. Here at Footit’s. Wearing next to nothing so everyone could clearly see what I already knew. Miriam Jackson was no little girl anymore. My grip tightened on my sticks. The wood creaked beneath the strain and snapped in two. Tossing the broken pieces aside, I stood and kicked my drum stool behind me. The white bread pendejo with her was touching her in a way I couldn’t allow. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker.” I leapt from the riser.

  “Tranquilo. Calm down, Juaquin.” Sager Reed, my adopted brother, best friend and the bassist in the band grabbed my arm. My hands in fists, I bared my teeth as I turned to scowl at him. If he had been anyone else his ass would have already been laid out on the stage for putting his hand on me.

  “She needs protecting,” I snarled.

  “Sí. I agree.” Sager had an idea the direction my thoughts ran with Miriam, but he was the only one. Gracias a Dios. Thank God. If her brother knew how close I had come to kissing her today, he would never let me near her again. “But Bryan’s already seen her. Let him handle it.”

  I gave him a nod while watching our lead guitarist undo the strap to his guitar.

  “Hold this.” Bryan thrust his Epiphone at me without making eye contact because he was glaring at her. He was clearly as unhinged by Miriam as I was with her in that skimpy outfit hanging on some shithead. Stomping from the stage, he hit the dance floor and barreled his way through the crowd that readily parted for him like the Red Sea for Moses.

  “What the hell are you’re doing here?” Bryan roared at a volume that didn’t need a mic to amplify it. Several in the audience tittered nervously and gave the angry Tempest guitarist a wider berth, but an even greater number anticipating a fight circled closer.

  “Go away, Bryan.” Seemingly unafraid, Miriam raised her chin to her brother and positioned herself between him and her soon-to-be-dead escort. “Leave us alone.” She flicked a long strand of her black hair over her shoulder. “I don’t need your protection. Get back on stage.” Grey-green eyes the same shade as Bryan’s flashed with the heat of her temper. Fascinated, I couldn’t look away. When it came to her, I was pretty sure I had been fucked since the first time she had scooted close and smiled at me.