The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  I slipped past her and made my way to the front of the restaurant. I felt the stares from other tables as we passed them. A rock star. A movie star. And Miriam with her half star from being in the Mile High video. We had created quite the buzz when we had all entered the fancy French restaurant, but we had been left mostly alone in our secluded corner during dinner. Luckily. Fortunately. Because if Miriam had noticeably trembled and hidden behind me when the few well-dressed and well-mannered people had approached and politely asked us for autographs, how was she going to do with the usual crowd at her club?

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Miriam

  A man of his word, Juaquin had gotten me to Sexxy on time. Too early in fact. I was already dressed or undressed depending on one’s point of view. I sat in a folding chair, the metal cold against my ass and bounced my knees as I waited for my turn on stage. In my little corner, the familiar flurry of activity surrounding me, I watched each girl before me get prepared, her makeup and costume transforming her into her club persona. As each was announced to their signature music, as each came and went I became more and more anxious, and it got closer and closer to my finale.

  “You’re on, MJ.” Mike entered the dressing room. No longer in his fancy dinner attire, he now wore only a pair of low slung jeans, but he was just as handsome to me. Just as vital. His half of the living expenses I might be able to make up, but the hole that would be left in my heart without him would never close. And soon he would be gone. My knee stopped bouncing. My body went statue still. The vice gripping my stomach clamped tighter. Tonight wasn’t the best night to prove I was capable of getting on with my life.

  To myself or anyone else.

  “Miriam.” Mike knelt down in front of me. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “It’s my job. Of course I have to do it.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean.” He reached up and brushed my hair back over my shoulder. “You’re technically sound. Physically fit. But it’s just too soon. You turned pale as a sheet when those people came at us in the restaurant with their cell cameras. And the way you look right now isn’t any different. It’s best not to go on stage if you’re having any doubts. Plus, there’s a convention in town. There’s a lot of drunk guys. It’s a really rowdy group. Let me go out there and call it off. Trinity and I will cover for you. It’ll be ok.”

  “It won’t be though.” I captured his hands and squeezed. “Convention or not, I need to get on with the business of living.” On my own without him to pick up the pieces anymore. Without King’s protection or reassurances. “It might as well be tonight.”

  Feigning confidence, I checked my appearance in the mirror one last time avoiding Mike’s eyes that were narrowed in concern and my own as well, knowing my pupils would be dilated with fear.

  Out in the hall, I forced my feet to move forward even though the roar of the crowd raised chill bumps on my skin. I hesitated at the edge of stage, started then stopped, then started again by focusing on the music. It became a little easier once I managed to hit my mark on the stage. The spotlight blocked out the shadows in the audience that reminded me of the men that had circled and trapped me. So within a sphere of light, I danced. I pretended the club was empty once more and that the moves I made and the tease I did were all for him. In reality, they were. The reality I built within my mind. My desire. My heart. Those were all his. They had always been his.

  The heavy bass, the thumping drums fell off near the end as I stood center stage. The moment of the music I had specifically chosen because it brought the anticipation back down from a crescendo to an intimate level. Now was the invitation to see a hidden part of me. A look over my shoulder and then came the unveiling of my breasts. My body. My choice. Only I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to do it. I missed my cue. The music ended. Without it, the rattling of glasses, the laughter, the jeering comments rose in my ears. I had given them the buildup, but I had robbed them of the payoff.

  Cocktease.

  Whore.

  Cunt.

  They spat out their displeasure. Suddenly, I was right back inside that room surrounded by Campanella’s men hurling insults as they battered me. Panicking, I glanced around wildly, but I couldn’t make out anything but shadows. I couldn’t see anything beyond my small circle of light. I heard the screeching of a couple of chairs being yanked back then a couple of crashes. The jeering comments stopped after that or maybe the ringing in my ears drowned them out.

  Real or imagined, I wasn’t sure. I heard footsteps coming toward me. I dropped to my knees and threw my arms up over my head to protect it. The lights, all the lights in the club, came up, but I remained in my defensive position. I couldn’t move. My body was frozen as my heart raced. More footsteps, rapidly approaching heavy ones from somewhere behind me and ones in front. Tears falling, I trembled and collapsed further into myself anticipating the worst.

  Only it didn’t come.

  This time it didn’t come.

  “Miriam. It’s Juaquin, Reina.” I felt a gentle stroke of his fingers across my bowed head. How long had he been doing that? “I’m going to put my arms around you and pick you up. Ok?”

  “Yes,” I sobbed. “Please.”

  Warmth all around me, strength and shelter. I felt myself being hoisted up. I blinked through the tears and the panic by focusing on King. Throwing my arms around his strong neck, I didn’t burrow into him because I knew no matter what, whether facing real or imagined foes, he would be there to hold and defend me.

  I tipped my head back and beamed trust upward, latching onto his handsome face and melding my eyes to his like he was my lifeline.

  Because he was.

  “Is she ok?” Another touch. Mike. Soft, warm and welcome he rested one of his hands against my shoulder.

  “I think so,” Juaquin replied, but his voice sounded funny. Like his expression, it was unsure.

  “We shouldn’t have let her go through with it.” Mike’s words were muffled against the thin layer of linen covering my back. He had his cheek pressed against it. I knew because I felt the warmth of his uneven breaths and the wetness of the regret filled tears he shed on my behalf. “What happened here tonight was totally predictable. I avoid being alone in dark parking lots for the same reason. I should have known better.”

  “The fault is mine.” Juaquin’s eyes shone brightly. “She’s ultimately my responsibility. She was floundering without making any effort to save herself. I failed her yet again. I should have stopped her. Me, not you.”

  “No.” I kept my gaze on Juaquin. Certainly, I wanted to reassure both of them, but I could see that my actions, my refusal to address the problem had hurt him the most. How could he protect me from harm, one of the key components to his psyche, when I had refused him time and time again?

  “What do you mean, no?” Mike’s query rang with incredulousness. “Are you serious? Anyone with half a brain could have seen this coming.”

  “That may be true,” I agreed. “But it wasn’t your fault, Mike, and it wasn’t his. The fault is mine.”

  I untangled my fingers from Juaquin’s thick hair and brought them to his cheeks instead. I framed his face in my hands. My body no longer trembled. I was surprisingly steady given what had happened and the commotion in the background, the shuffling of patrons’ feet leaving their seats as Trinity and Nance directed them to the box office for a full refund.

  I tuned it all out like I had tuned out everything else in my life these past few weeks. Images, conversations, feelings from those days suddenly barreled toward me in a startlingly, jarring, overwhelming release. How many times had Mike and King gently pleaded with me to talk to a therapist? All their words, all their concern, finally penetrated through the self-insulating layers of denial and fear.

  “You were right, Juaquin.” His evening stubble prickled the pads of my thumbs as I brushed them back and forth against his skin and stared deeply into his eyes. Full of golden lamplight, the only illumination I required for
the step I was about to take. “I’ve been running from my problems instead of addressing them. I don’t want to do that anymore. I need to find someone, a professional someone, to talk to. Will you help me?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  King

  “Is she going to be alright?” Mike asked me.

  “I think so.” I glanced away from her best friend as I heard the shower shut off.

  “She was pretty freaked out at the club.”

  “She was. Then she wasn’t.” I spread my hands wide. I couldn’t really explain it. “Maybe she needed the trigger to finally see the truth. Maybe the gentle approach we’ve been using chipped away enough of the denial that she could finally see what she needs to do. Whatever caused it, I couldn’t be more proud of her.”

  The door to the bathroom popped open. A white towel wrapped around her body, my queen emerged in a cloud of warm steam. She had never appeared more regal in my eyes than she did right then.

  “Hey.” Gaze on me but looking a little shy, she crossed directly to me. I threw my arm around her, brought her into my side and pressed my lips to her temple. “Sorry for all the drama tonight.” She tipped her head to her friend to include him in her apology. “For the past two weeks really.”

  “Nothing to apologize for.” Her best friend stepped toward her and stroked the back of his hand gently down her cheek, the way I liked to do. I had to suppress a possessive snarl. When it came to her, I was a total caveman. Everyone seemed to be a potential rival for her affection. I wanted all of it, all of her, all of the fucking time.

  “Anything I can do?” He stepped back, his gaze searching. “Anything you need before I head to bed.”

  “No.” She glanced at me. “I have everything I need right here.”

  “Ah.” He smiled. “That you do, MJ. That you certainly do. And my everything is waiting for me in the bedroom.” His smile widening, he winked at her and turned the opposite direction. His softly whispered goodnight drifted over his shoulder.

  “Reina.” I shifted to take her firmly by the shoulders. I wanted her facing me. What she had just said to her best friend made me feel like my feet weren’t touching the floor anymore. But what she had decided at the club needed to be noted. “I am so fucking proud of you right now.” My fingers flexed deeper into her damp skin. I wanted to lift her up in the air to float there with me, but I didn’t want to spook her. She had made a huge step tonight. I wanted to be sure she understood how monumental it was. “Many, many times you have made me proud. But tonight ranks up there with the best of them.”

  “How can you say that?” Her brow scrunched together in confusion. “I fell flat on my ass. I cost the club tons of money. And I made a fool of myself.”

  “I saw it a little differently. I saw you being brave enough to take that stage. I saw that type of bravery from you from the beginning. Making friends with a guy with a known short fuse like me. Encouraging me about my poetry. Pursuing me, recognizing better than I did that the spark of what we had was worth the risk of rejection, worth the aggravation, the challenges, worth risking it all. Even if it recently meant sacrificing yourself to a dangerous criminal.”

  “You are worth all those things Juaquin.” She moved closer and brought her hands up to frame my face. A soft, delicate, nonsexual touch, but it still sent a jolt of desire through me along with a whole host of other emotions. I found it difficult to refocus.

  I covered her hands with my own, brought them down between our bodies, threaded our fingers together, and pressed them against my chest. I glanced up, peered deep into her pretty eyes and began again. “I’m worthy if you think I am. But it’s going to take me a while to get past the number of times I failed you.”

  “You did not fail me. You saved me, protected and defended me. Where you see failure, I see only my own mistakes. I should have told you Campanella was threatening me and you. I should have told a lot of people. Things might have turned out differently if I had.”

  “Love blinds us to a lot of things. Fear, even.”

  “I do love you, Juaquin. But I’m so messed up. It’s me that’s not worthy of you. You’re the one whose brightness gets diminished when you link it to me. You’re the one who rushed in to rescue me knowing the danger that I had unwittingly stumbled into. I might have a flicker of good in me, I’ll grant you that. I would do anything for the people I love, but that good is buried beneath layers and layers of dysfunction. It’s going to take a lot of excavation work by a really good therapist to get to it and bring it out into the light.”

  “We’re more alike than different, Reina. We hurt. We hide. But you didn’t hide tonight. You weren’t weak. You were incredibly strong. True courage isn’t lifting someone into your arms who has fallen. It’s enduring the unimaginable. It’s being brave enough to ask for help when you’re most vulnerable. Sometimes it’s just taking the first step in the right direction. It’s you, Reina. Just you. All that courage is you.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Miriam

  “Hi.” I entered the therapist’s office hesitantly, but more confidently than I would have because of Juaquin’s words of affirmation from the previous night.

  “Hello, Miriam. It’s nice to meet you. Have a seat.”

  “Thank you.” I glanced around. I saw a couple of options. Two comfy looking reclining chairs in a Southwestern pattern near him and a large leather couch on the opposite wall. I chose the latter.

  “That’s where I might sit, too, if it were my first visit with a psychiatrist.” He smiled not unkindly, swiveling his office chair away from a small writing desk.

  “Why’s that, Dr. Claffey?”

  “Reece.”

  “What?”

  “I actually prefer Reece if you feel comfortable being on a first name basis. I guess some might argue that it’s not professional, but I’m really not much older than you. Besides, Dr. Claffey still feels kind of stuffy to me.”

  “Reece,” I allowed, and his warm smile widened.

  “I might choose the couch like you did because I don’t yet know you or I might have a cautious personality. Or maybe I might have reasons to distrust people in general. Those kinds of things. Identifying the reasons for why you are here and the best and healthiest ways to move forward after we do is what I aim to do. Pretty simple and not too scary. Right?”

  “I guess, not.” I nodded.

  “Then let’s get started.” He leaned forward his hands clasped together. “It’s going to sound cliché, but tell me about your childhood.”

  • • •

  “How’d it go?” Juaquin asked, flicking off the television with the remote as I dropped my purse on the easy chair beside the sofa where he was sprawled. I tried not to notice how he looked in a tight black tank, but his sexy body was as impossible to ignore as was the fact that he had been looking out for my return. I had seen him at the window when I pulled up into the drive. I’d taken a big step when I chose to go to a therapist, but he had also taken one, allowing me the breathing room to go there on my own. Campanella’s thugs had stolen a lot of things from us. Some things we could get back with a lot of hard work that I had started today. Other things like being able to take one’s safety or state of wellbeing for granted were gone forever.

  “It was mentally exhausting, but good I think.” I took a seat directly beside him, being totally incautious.

  “What did you talk about?” He shifted to turn more fully into me, his bare leg in ragged hemmed grey sweat shorts bumping mine.

  “My childhood. Mostly.” I made a face. “That’s why I think I’m so tired. Strolling down memory lane when it runs through the worst part of Southside to a single parent family in public housing isn’t exactly the stuff of fairy tales.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “I can see how you might.” I sighed. I didn’t really want to rehash. Once was beneficial. Therapeutic even with Dr. Claffey’s, Reece’s, insightful observations. Like how my father’s verbal abuse had affect
ed us all though we each certainly handled it in our own unique fashion. My mom tried harder to provide for us to compensate for his shortcomings. My brother became overprotective because he no doubt felt guilty about not shielding me from my father. My sister escaped into her studies and books. I pretended my father’s rejection and harsh words didn’t hurt, developing a thorny outer layer very early on. Burying our feelings was something Juaquin and I certainly shared.

  We hurt. We hide.

  Yeah, he had gotten that right.

  “Why are you in different exercise gear than you wore this morning?” I asked him. “Are we going running again?”

  “Not running. No.” He raked his hair back from his head. “I was thinking of going to the gym, the boxing one. I have a membership there, and I was wondering if you might want to go with me.” He seemed nervous.

  “Sure. Got nothing else to do.” I certainly wasn’t going back to Sexxy and dancing for exercise. Not that it was an option. I’d been fired. Anyway, I was rethinking everything. I had lost my enthusiasm for being in front of an audience with my clothes off especially since Dr. Claffey had questioned what it was that I had liked about it so much in the first place. He’d asked me to consider what I’d been looking for out there on center stage with all the men watching me. What need was I trying to meet?

  • • •

  I found out in pretty short order why Juaquin had been nervous.

  “I don’t need self-defense classes, King.” I put my hand on the center of his rock-hard chest. The tank he wore was soaked. We had only been at the gym for an hour, but he had already jumped rope, done the speed bag, and pounded the heavy one in that amount of time.

  “It’s just a suggestion, Reina. A way to let off some steam.” He gave me a look. Yeah, we both had a lot of repressed sexual tension. What signal he was seeking from me to finally end the abstinence between us, I didn’t know. If it were as simple as me taking the first step to get better, we’d have already had sex. Despite the fact that I’d invited him back into my bed, he still hadn’t made a move.