The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  “You shouldn’t be here, Miriam,” Bryan hissed the reprimand. “How the hell did you even get in? You’re underage. Did you use a fake ID?”

  “What if I did? You don’t control me. I’m my own person, Bry. Almost as old as Lace.” I could only see Bryan’s profile, but I could tell she had hit the mark she’d been aiming at with that last remark.” Every line in her brother’s body drew tight. “I’m old enough to know my own mind. Old enough to date whomever I please.” Her gaze flicked upward and connected with mine briefly, too briefly for me to figure out what it meant. “Besides that, I know secrets you wouldn’t want shared.”

  “Alright, fine, stay then,” Bryan decided, though his grip on his temper whitened his knuckles. “But I’m taking you home after we’re done. I don’t care…”

  “Ok motherfuckers, the nonmusical portion of tonight’s entertainment is over.” Warren ‘War’ Jinkins, our asshole of a lead singer wrapped his ringed fingers around the center mic, his amplified voice drowning out the rest of whatever else was said between Bryan and Miriam. Slinging the tail end of his headscarf behind his shoulder, he gave an imperial chin lift to Dizzy Lowell our rhythm guitarist on his left and then another one to my brother on his right. “Now let’s fuckin’ rock this place. ‘My Way or the Highway’.” He raised a brow. Dizzy grinned in response, the silver hoop on his lip ring glinting in the lights as he strummed a power chord on his SG. Sager followed on his Fender. I crashed in on percussion long before Bryan returned on lead guitar. I looked back out. I couldn’t find Miriam. The crowd had already swallowed her up.

  Tempest played loud and tight. I went insane with my sticks and practically stomped a hole in my bass drum. My kit suffered the jealous rage I would have preferred to unleash on Miriam’s date.

  Towards the end of our set, I spotted her again as I clamped my fingers around my cymbal to dampen the chime. I found myself imagining I had my fingers clamped around the windpipe of the unworthy asshole with her instead. He had his hands on her ass as they slow danced. She swayed her hips like a goddess, her movement mesmerizing even though the music had temporarily stopped. War droned an overlong monologue, but I wasn’t registering it. Not with that cabrón touching her.

  Those long legs.

  Those lush new curves.

  That body to make me lose my mind and a spirit to make me forget all the rules.

  “Hola, Juaquin. Let’s have a beat for the encore, hombre.” War banged his mic on my snare. My gaze snapped to him as feedback screeched over the sound system. Everyone automatically covered their ears. I would have been pissed at War except his antics resulted in Miriam stepping away from her dance partner. Her hands on her ears, her gaze gravitated to mine, but instead of it skittering away as it often did whenever we were alone together, it lingered like it had at her apartment earlier. The heat of it lit me up. My body drew taut. Her cheeks bloomed dewy pink as if she knew what staring into her eyes did to me and that she was experiencing a similar reaction herself. I imagined stamping my mouth to hers. Her lips parted. Were they as soft as they looked? I had to know. I had to taste her. If only…

  “Ready, brother?” Sager suddenly appeared in front of me. Dazed, I blinked at him while wading through my private reverie. “We need the count for ‘Truth’.”

  “Claro. Sure.” I hit my sticks together. “Uno. Dos.” The band kicked in on three. Sager resumed his position at the front edge of the stage. Dizzy drifted backward and placed his foot up on my riser watching me with a definite question mark in his gaze. I glanced away. What the hell could I say? I had a thing for Bryan’s sister. Yeah, that wasn’t going to go over well with anyone. Like the band needed any more drama.

  Minutes later, sweat dripping down my face, I struck the last beat of the final number. I hadn’t removed my shirt like the others, even though it stuck to my damp skin. They were lean and ripped. Me not so much. My stomach hung over my belt like my father’s. Yet another impediment for Miriam and me beyond our age difference and her brother. Miriam Jackson was an impossible dream. I would have to be content with my forbidden fantasies.

  “Great show.” Pete, a mechanic from the auto shop I had worked at before the record deal slapped me on the back as I stepped off the last step of the stage behind Sager.

  “Gracias.” I took the Rainier beer he offered, uncapped it and chugged it dry. When I finished I realized Sager had already taken off with Missy Rivera, a pretty girl that all of the guys in the band had been with at least one time except me. Too shy with women and too tangled up in my feelings for Miriam. Someone passed me another bottle. I should have insisted on water instead. Beer would only add to my gut, but I needed something to take off the sharp edge I hadn’t been able to dull since Miriam had arrived. Hopefully, Bryan had taken her and the temptation she represented far away.

  An hour and too many cervezas later, the crowd had mostly cleared out. Leaning heavily against the bar, I felt a soft tap on my shoulder.

  “Hola, amigo,” a soft feminine voice greeted.

  “Lace?” My eyes were wide as I turned to face her. I hadn’t seen her since the big confrontation between War and her. “What are you doing here?” The usual halo of platinum surrounded her pretty face, but it lacked luster, and her golden eyes were absent their usual bright sheen.

  “Not expecting me, huh?”

  I shook my head while doing a quick survey of the room.

  “They’re not here,” she announced dispassionately. “I gambled, and I lost everything, Juaquin. Even before I got kicked out of the band.”

  “I don’t know, maybe…”

  “I know. It’s over. I’ve seen Bry with the others. He wants me to see him with the others. Just like I wanted War to see me with Martin. We all have our closure now. Closure is good, right?” Her eyes filled. I was pretty sure in response to the sympathy in mine. “Anyway, don’t feel sorry for me. I just came to say goodbye. To Dizzy. To you, of course.” Her voice thickened. “After my brother, I think I’ll miss you the most.”

  “I’ll miss you, too, amiga.” I opened my arms. She stepped into them. Besides Miriam, she was the only woman I could be myself around. I felt her draw in a deep shaky breath before she wiggled free and stepped away from me.

  “Take care of yourself, Juaquin.” She ducked her chin. “Don’t hate on Warren too much. He has his reasons for being the way he is. And tell Bry…” Her voice cracked. “Never mind. I can’t help the way I feel. I love both of them even though I know I shouldn’t. And I want them both to be happy. Tell them that.”

  I watched her bleed back into the crowd. I saw the door to the bar open letting in the outside light from the parking lot before it closed again. The door receded in my vision then seemed to swell again. Everything felt wrong. Periodically, I would get these feelings. Only two people knew about them. Sager and my abuelita. She called them premonitions. A sliver of chill raised the hairs on the back of my neck, trepidation freezing my limbs. Because of Lace? I started to follow her. Someone suddenly stepped into my path.

  “Juaquin, hurry. Come with me.” Addy Footit, the owner of the bar, a blonde in her mid-thirties, took my arm in her surprisingly firm grip and dragged me into the long back hallway that led to an alley behind the building.

  “Qué pasa? What’s going on?” I asked her, my stomach icing over with the chill that only a moment before had laced my skin.

  “Trouble.” She didn’t break stride but turned to shoot me a worried glance. “With Bryan’s sister and the guy who brought her.”

  “Fuck!” I pushed past her, throwing the metal door open and scanning the dimly lit narrow strip of concrete bordered by a chain link fence. My vision tunneled on the two of them. The pendejo had Miriam cornered. She wielded a broken beer bottle. Brandishing it back and forth, her fingers blanched around the glass. She had the guy at bay, but blood was about to be spilled. His blood. Because the fear in her eyes made me completely lose it. No managing this anger through poetry like I had learned to do in all thos
e afterschool classes at St. Mary’s. No words would stem the eruption of beast-like rage rising in me. Not when I could clearly see that her lips were bruised from his unwanted kisses and that her blouse had been torn by his grasping, greedy hands. Her gaze hit mine. It brimmed with relief then dropped in shame.

  “I told her to get Bryan.” Miriam’s voice sounded rough. Had she screamed for help? Was that how Addy had found her?

  “You get me instead. Did he hurt you?” I took a step toward her.

  “I’m ok.” She took a step back. “He wanted…” She swallowed. “I said no. I was waiting…hoping…I told him…”

  “She wants you, you fat asshole.” The pendejo spit the words out in disgust. In disbelief.

  “She told you no, motherfucker.” I didn’t doubt that he could see the blood in my eyes. “Apparently you don’t listen well.” I expanded my chest and threw my arms wide talking with my words and my hands in all my Latino glory. “Apparently you need a lesson from someone who speaks a language you can understand, ese.”

  “I don’t speak Spanish.”

  “You don’t need to say anything. Just listen.” My arm shot out with power. My fist connected with flesh. I felt skin and muscle give way. Without pause, I followed the first punch with another that doubled him over and shut his smart mouth. When he managed to gather himself to take a swipe at me, I dodged it easily and lifted him off his feet with another blow. The edge of his teeth sliced the taut skin over my knuckles. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I rained retribution on him until he went down. That was when I heard the sobbing.

  Not his.

  Not Footit’s.

  Hers.

  “No more, Juaquin. Stop. Please. He’s not worth going to jail over. I’m not worth it.”

  “Now that is a lie.” Incredulous, I turned toward her. Grey-green eyes bright with brimming tears captured and held me captive. I realized in that moment what she meant to me. The possibility that someone like me could have something so sweet. She was always my spark of inspiration. The reason behind my rhymes. My cure. She calmed me. With that revelation, the red tinge to my vision receded. I regained my control. The asshole was laid out cold on the cracked pavement, cracked like the dream of something special between Miriam and me.

  “Miriam.” I shook my head at her as she started to bridge the gap separating us. “Chica bella, beautiful girl, don’t set your affection on me. It’s me who’s not worthy. I’m maldad. Nothing but trouble. There’s darkness in me. Don’t come closer.” I wanted to hold and comfort her, but I warned her off with my blood-stained hands. “Eres una reina.” I reached out and stroked my thumb across the soft round of her cheek. Frowning, I realized that I had marred her pretty face with a startling streak of red. “You’re a queen.” I stared into her eyes willing the truth to sink in deep and take hold. “You deserve a man who is your equal.” I dropped my hand. “Not a guy like me with so much anger he can’t control.” I turned away, relieved to see Addy crossing to her side. The bar owner would take care of her.

  “King,” Miriam called, and I stopped, my hand already on the handle to go back inside the building. She had never called me anything but my given name.

  “Juaquin. It’s just Juaquin.”

  “If I’m a queen you’re the only king I want. Don’t go. Please.”

  I didn’t turn to look at her, though her words moved me. Sure, I wanted to believe in impossible things, but I had to be practical and wiser because I was older. This needed to be a clean break like Lace had made with Bryan and War.

  “You’ll always be King to me,” Miriam whispered softly.

  I nodded once, accepting the name she had bestowed on me, the only gift permissible for me to take from her. A treasure of great value like the woman who had given it to me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Miriam

  Present Day

  “Times up.”

  “Alright.” I nodded to the PA, a shapely blonde in a skin tight ‘my boss rocks’ tank and ass cheek baring shorts.

  Fuck fuck fuckity fuck

  I blew the hair I had snarled in my frustration out of my eyes. I wasn’t ready for the audition.

  “How many others are trying out for a part?” I asked clomping down the hall after her, trying to rein in the memories of Juaquin running my lines with me. Thoughts of him inevitably pursued me whenever I prepped for a role.

  “Just one other besides you.” She performed a quick scan, checking me out, her expression of utter and complete boredom letting me know exactly how little she thought of me in my smart business attire.

  Yeah, I thought. As if your rejection could faze me after his repeated ones. But I wasn’t that little girl anymore. I had armor now. I had graduated from the Juaquin Acenado school of you-are-too-young-for-me. Passed advanced courses like I’m-no-good-for-you-besides-look-at-all-these-hot-groupies, and currently resided in the land of just-don’t-go-there-anymore when it came to the handsome drummer.

  “Only one other? Well, that’s odd. I thought you were casting three walk-on roles today.” Three attorneys. My agent had hinted that curvy actresses would take precedence. This explained my high hopes and the way I had dressed to look judicial while accentuating my natural assets.

  “We are, but two slots have already been filled.”

  “But auditions only started this morning.” It was nine a.m. “When I booked the late flight out of Vegas, I was assured I would be the first read through of the day.” I had gotten up extra early hoping to have more time in the green room to work through my lines.

  “You will be. Mr. Daniel chose Briana and Christine last night.” She gave me a coy smile. “He was already familiar with their work.”

  I just bet he is, I thought. Horizontal on the sheets familiar.

  “If he likes you maybe he’ll invite you to his carriage house for a private audition.”

  My spine snapped straight. I had received propositions like these too many times to count. It was one of the reasons why I had decided not to remain in California after I had screwed away my UCLA college scholarship. “I don’t do house calls.”

  “Are you serious?” She stopped at the end of the hall and lifted her microbladed brows.

  “Absolutely.” Huffing to catch my breath and my temper, I stopped alongside her. “I don’t fuck for roles.” I certainly wasn’t a virgin, but what happened with my body happened on my terms. My stomach churned as she rapped on the door with her perfectly manicured hand.

  “If that’s the case then you’re wasting your time here.” She pushed open the door in response to the deep male voice from the other side that said only, “Enter.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Daniel.” I squared my shoulders and breezed into the room affecting a confidence I didn’t feel, already portraying a role even before I began speaking my lines.

  “Proceed.” The middle aged executive producer for the provocative award-winning law series, Court of Angels, leaned back and stretched his arms across the leather sofa taking his sweet time checking me out. His predatory perusal lingered in the usual areas. I swallowed to moisten my dry throat. My mind went blank. The vertical blinds were drawn. He and I were the only ones in the room. I heard a click behind me as the PA closed the door behind her. This was a set up for sex. I knew the scenario. I wasn’t naive. Yet, I stayed because I longed to make those who didn’t know the truth about how far I had fallen proud.

  You want to make him proud, my inner voice corrected.

  “Yes, Judge Green,” I began the first line from the script. “I believe we have a jury in place that we can take to trail.”

  “Trial,” he interrupted.

  “WwWhat?” I stuttered.

  “The word is trial not trail.” He circled his finger in the air while staring at my chest. “You may proceed.”

  Shit. “Yes, of course.” It was a stupid mistake on my part. My dyslexia made it difficult for auditions when I didn’t receive my lines in advance to memorize. I cleared my throat and b
egan again. “The judge is conservative, so we have that going in our favor. However, the defense bases…

  “The basis of the defense,” he corrected.

  Double shit. A cold trickle of sweat slid down my spine. I suddenly felt like I was back at UCLA, everyone watching as I screwed up because I was too proud to have my scripts read aloud to me. College hadn’t been like high school where everyone knew me, and provisions had been made for my learning disability without me having to ask.

  “You know what? Just take off your jacket and blouse. There’s a non-speaking role in an upcoming episode if your rack is as nice at it seems…”

  “No.” I pressed my lips flat. “That’s alright.” I had his type of offers all the time. I choose. I say when. My body. My choice. I heard my best friend Mike’s voice inside my head reciting the mantra we had both adopted as our anthem. “No thanks.”

  I turned on my heel and headed for the door, no longer hopeful, with nothing but my righteous indignation propelling me forward as the producer called for his PA to send the next one in.

  • • •

  Hours and a plane ride to Las Vegas later, I thanked the Lyft driver for the ride home from McCarran International Airport. Grabbing the handle of my bag, I rolled it up the driveway. Two hundred dollars wasted on an overnight hotel stay, three hundred on a roundtrip flight to LAX and at least that same amount on a conservative suit and accessories I would likely never use again.

  My cell jangled inside my cross body as soon as I unlocked the front door of my duplex and stepped inside. I muttered a curse under my breath. I was exhausted. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I just wanted a shower, my comfy pajamas, and a mind-numbing reality show like Rock Fuck Club until I could get my regrets to recede and sleep to finally overcome me. However, I knew the “Uptown Funk” ringtone well. I might be able to put off my boyfriend had it been him calling. My best friend Mikey? Not so much.