by Lee Piper
Drake’s gaze lands on a small piece of equipment near my guitar. “Is that the latest DI box?” He steps forward, crouching over it.
Grudgingly, Zeke nods.
A wide smile lights up Drake’s handsome face. “With brand-new gear, our record is gonna sound tight.”
“Need to hear you sing first, see what I’m working with.” Zeke turns to Reid. “And once he’s done, I want you on drums. Show me what you’ve got.”
Reid dips his chin. “Done.”
“After that, I want to hear your originals.” Zeke stares at each of us. When his gaze meets mine, he blinks and looks away. I’m too busy riding high from my guitar solo to care. “Then we’ll talk about what you want out of this album.”
“That’s easy, boss.” Drake’s grin is mischievous. “Fame, fortune, and a fuck-ton of women.” He winks at me. “Present company excluded.”
Reid smacks him upside the head.
“Ouch.” Drake scowls at our drummer while smoothing down his ruffled hair. “The fuck, man?”
“You’re being a dick.”
“Wrong. I’m thinking with my dick. Totally different.”
“Not where you’re concerned it’s not.”
After a short pause, Drake nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“I’m so thankful we never hooked up,” I murmur.
Zeke stills.
“You’re like a sis to me, Wil.” Drake’s tone is serious. “Can’t go bumping uglies with family, can I?”
“Firstly,” I hold up one finger, “that’s so freaking gross I can’t even.” Another finger waves in the air. “And secondly, you take the role of overprotective brother way too seriously. You ruin every date I have.”
Drake snorts. “Not my fault those assholes aren’t brave enough to stake a claim on you. You need better taste in men.”
“I need better friends,” I mumble, embarrassed by the truth of his words. Despite losing my virginity at a music festival a few years ago, it’s been hard—pun intended—meeting a guy with enough balls not to be intimidated by my bandmates.
Zeke runs tense fingers through his close-cropped hair. “Can we get back on topic already?” He sighs, dropping his hand. “I meant what direction you want your sound to take. What’s your vision, and is it feasible with our timeframe.”
“Oh.” Then, shrugging one shoulder, Drake saunters over to the mic. “Well, let’s get started then. Prepare yourselves, ladies. You’re gonna cream your panties.”
Shuddering, I put my guitar back on its stand.
After some vocal warm-ups, Drake cradles the microphone between two hands, opens his mouth, and sings.
The remainder of the day is spent showing Zeke our material and discussing what we want out of the next two weeks. For some reason, he seems to have it in for me more than the guys. He’s abrupt, rude, and intolerant of idleness. I promise myself to behave professionally, despite him being a sexy-as-sin douchebag. At times he moves into the production room, using the console desk to adjust levels and map the tempo of our songs, while at others he stands in certain parts of the room, silent, observant, and so freaking attractive it’s hard to focus on my guitar. But I manage to. Just.
Nine hours later, I am exhausted. My fingers hurt and my body aches, but I’ve never felt happier. Building a life from music has been my dream ever since Mom first taught me how to hold a guitar. So, for her sake as well as mine, I refuse to complain. Instead, I’m going to take this opportunity and run with it. No matter how long the days are.
Zeke strolls out of the production room looking as fresh as he did this morning. “That’s enough for today. We’ll start tracking first thing tomorrow.”
Drake and Reid fist pump, while I summon the energy to smile.
“Leave your gear here. I’ll lock up, then show you where you’re staying upstairs.”
“I’m heading back home.”
Concerned, I search Reid’s face. “You sure? It’s a long drive and it’s dark out.”
His silver eyes soften. “I’ll be fine. Need to get back to my woman.”
Of course, he does. After working through a hell of a lot of issues, Shiloh and Reid are even more in love than when they were kids. Not only is Shiloh a top chick and one of my closest friends, she’s got a killer voice too. I have no doubt the three-piece rock band she fronts is going to be a force to be reckoned with in the near future.
Drawing me in for a hug, Reid murmurs, “Don’t let Zeke get to you.” Breaking away again, he gives me a look. I feign obliviousness even though it’s clear what he’s implying.
After man-hugging it out with Drake and giving Zeke a firm handshake, he leaves.
Drake wiggles his eyebrows. “Guess it’s just you and me, pretty lady.”
“Cool it, lover boy. Never gonna happen.”
He throws his head back, laughing. “You’re out of my league anyway.” I snort. “You need a good man, not an asshole like me.”
Zeke is silent.
Glancing at the broody music producer, I say nothing.
When Drake throws an arm over my shoulders, Zeke’s hands clench at his sides.
“Let’s go,” Zeke growls over one shoulder, marching toward the door.
We collect our duffel bags from a storage room off the studio and move into the hallway. Zeke sets the alarm system, then leads us into an elevator. It’s all marble, chrome, and mirrors, strange considering the muscular alpha standing as far away from me as possible. He doesn’t seem the type.
The doors open and we are led down a long, tiled corridor. At the end are two doors, one leading to the left, the other to the right. He enters the code and then unlocks the door on the right.
Zeke hits the lights.
“Holy shit.”
I nod in agreement with Drake. The room is huge. A state-of-the-art kitchen opens onto a sunken living area. Bespoke furniture fills the room, each piece functional yet arresting. And white. Everywhere I look is white.
“Are the bedrooms down there?”
Zeke nods at Drake’s question.
“Mind if I take a look?”
“Go for it.”
“Thanks, man.” He disappears down a hallway.
My gaze, however, is drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking what I’m guessing is the ocean. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m in front of the glass, my mouth agape. When I speak, my voice is soft, reverent. “I always dreamed of living near the water.”
“Here.”
I jump with a start. Beside me, Zeke presses a button and the door slides open. When I step onto the balcony, cold air hits me. I throw my head back, relishing the icy sting. Tousled hair whips my face and sticks to my lips. I don’t bother warming myself or removing the wayward strands. I want to experience the brutality of the moment just as it is.
Wild.
Untamed.
Real.
I move to the handrail, wrapping my fingers around the cold metal. Then, because a particularly harsh wind whips off the ocean, I let go, stretching my arms wide. My T-shirt buffets about me and my shorts are pinned to my upper thighs. Goose bumps break out on my skin, and if I stay much longer my mouth will turn blue. But I don’t care.
I scan the coastline. Since there’s heavy fog in the night sky, it’s hard to make out any but the brightest of stars. I can hear the ocean though; the roar of the waves is deafening.
I love it.
Dropping my arms, I turn to Zeke. “It’s beautiful.”
He remains in the doorway, the light from the living room casting his face in shadow. Despite the howling wind and not being able to see his expression, I’m certain he hears me. His body stills.
Moving back to where he stands, I peer into his face. Strong jawline, day-old beard, wide cheekbones, straight nose, and full lips. If only I could coax a smile from those lips, if only the tightness around his mouth would soften. He’d be breathtaking. My gaze journeys further north. His short hair is ruffled, as though the wind te
ased it with its fingers, and those eyes… expressive yet detached. The ultimate paradox.
My smile is genuine. “Thank you. This is exactly what I needed.”
He watches me for a long moment. The light illuminates golden flecks blanketing dark pupils, and I realize, not for the first time, that I could get lost in his gaze. Then, because I’m a sucker, I try to picture what he sees when he looks at me. Windswept hair, flushed cheeks, jade eyes sparkling with exhilaration. Pretty sure the dimple on my cheek is making an appearance, along with pebbled nipples from the frigid temperature. Does he like what he sees? Is a dark part of him drawn to me like I am to him?
Growling, he turns and storms back inside.
Guess not.
Shaking my head, I follow.
Drake meets me in the living room. “This place is awesome.” He nudges my shoulder. “You should see the view from your room.”
“You’ve already chosen yours, then?”
He grins, wrapping a long arm around my shoulder. “Yep. My bed’s bigger. But never fear, they’ve both got en suite bathrooms, so you don’t have to worry about walking in on me in the shower.” His pitch lowers. “Unless you want to.”
I pinch his side. With a yelp, he jumps away, laughing.
“Food’s in the fridge.”
Drake and I both turn in the direction of the deep voice. Zeke’s standing by the front door, muscular arms crossed and legs shoulder-width apart. He is formidable, intimidating, annoyed.
Confused, I give a half smile. “Thanks. We’ll restock it before we leave.”
But he ignores me and instead glares at Drake. “We’re starting tomorrow at nine. Don’t be late.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
With a final clench of his jaw, he leaves, the door slamming shut behind him.
Once he’s gone, Drake raises an eyebrow. “Not much of a talker, is he?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No, he’s really not.” Walking into the kitchen, I call over one shoulder, “Hungry?”
With a loud groan, Drake flops onto the sofa. “Starved. Cook me some food, woman.”
“Talk to me like that and I’ll spit in it.”
He scrambles to his knees, hands clasped together in front of him, begging. “Please, oh magnificent one, can you cook me some delicious food? For you are perfect, brighter than the sun on a cloudless day.”
Rolling my eyes, I open the fridge. “Idiot.”
“You love me.”
“You’re lucky I do.”
Plopping back onto the lounge, he finds the remote and turns on the TV. “Don’t I know it. Like I keep saying, you’re too good for me, Wil. You’re too good for all of us.”
“Yeah, maybe.” However, as I go about making dinner, and even when I lie in bed later that night, I’m haunted by whiskey-colored eyes that think I’m not good enough.
A melodic alarm wakes me before dawn. Quickly, I shower and dress before grabbing some fruit on the way out. An elevator ride, hour-long drive, and quick stop at home later, I pull up in front of Bayside Assisted Care Facility.
Even the sunrise peeking through overgrown foliage does little to brighten the place. With its faded brown walls and rusted downspout, it could sure use a facelift. I hate that until the royalties from our record start rolling in, I can’t afford otherwise. Thankfully, the staff are wonderful, despite being underpaid.
As always, Jeanette is working the front desk at this time. When I walk inside, she stands. “And how’s Bayside’s very own rock star doing this fine morning?” She steps out from behind her workspace and envelops me in a hug.
I give her a warm squeeze before letting go. “Hey, Jeanie. I’m good, thanks. Tired, but good.” Rifling through my oversized handbag, I pull out a small square of hessian. “Here, this is for you.”
“Oh, honey.” She carefully unfolds the material and admires the small purple crystal resting in her palm. Holding it up to the light, she smiles. “And what’s this one for?”
“Amethyst will bring you luck. It helps to achieve your dreams.”
Jeanette’s eyes turn glassy and she sniffs before pulling me in for another hug. “Thank you, love. I’m going to need all the luck I can get.” She carefully places it next to the other crystals lining her desk.
“How are the portraits coming along?”
Wiping her nose with a tissue, she clears her throat before answering. “Really well. I’ve nearly finished painting all of the residents. Just wait until you see them.”
“The exhibition is going to be amazing. And the offer still stands. If you need any help, let me know.”
She takes my hand and squeezes. “Thank you.”
I glance down to where our hands are joined. “How’s she doing?”
Jeanette pats my hand and gives me a sad smile. “Not great, love. She was up most of the night, so she’s very tired this morning. It’s all part of her condition, I’m afraid. Are you sure you don’t want to come back tomorrow?”
I tuck some hair behind my ear. “No, she stood by me when I was at my worst. The least I can do is be here for her now.” Letting go of Jeanette’s hand, I shake my bag. “Besides, I brought goodies. She’ll be feeling better in no time.”
Another sad smile. “Go on then, I’ll buzz you in.”
Trying not to fall apart, I nod, then walk toward the heavy door leading to the living quarters.
It doesn’t take long to reach her room. Knocking softly, I let myself in only to be hit with a familiar wave of sadness. Mom is sitting in her usual chair by the window. There’s not much to see outside, an old oak tree with a decrepit wooden bench beneath it, but when it’s sunny, it’s almost nice.
“Hey, Mom.”
The room itself is drab. At one point it was painted violet, but it’s long since faded to a murky gray. A single bed rests against the far wall, the hand-knitted rainbow throw rug my attempt at injecting color to the place. On the side table is a framed picture of Mom and me from our last holiday, three years ago. Both of us are wearing sombreros, oversized sunglasses, and matching smiles. The memory warms my heart. Opposite the bed sits a chest of drawers with a large print of the Pacific coastline above it. I bought it to remind her of her love for the ocean.
Padding softly to where she sits staring blankly into space, I bend down to kiss her cheek. It’s softer than tissue paper. “Heard you had a rough night. You okay?”
Silence.
Pasting a smile on my face, I set about organizing her room. “It’s always so hot in here. You need some fresh air.” I open the window slightly. “Remember when you used to tell me the breeze was a caress from the Anemoi?” Shaking my head, I crouch down, opening my oversized bag. “Used to spend all my time trying to figure out which direction the wind came from so I knew which of the four wind gods was the biggest pervert.”
Silence.
Seconds later, I pull out a small vial of rosemary verbena essential oil, an oil burner, tealight candle, and a lighter. Standing, I walk to the chest of drawers and set it all up. Before long, the gentle scent of rosemary fills the room. Taking a deep breath, I inhale. “That’s better. This one’s brilliant for memory retention, but you’d know more about natural remedies than I do.”
Silence.
Turning, I face the shell of a woman before me. Dull hair hangs in a curtain about her gaunt face. Where her skin was once tan and healthy, it is now sallow and pale. She’s lost weight, so much so that it is hard to recognize the larger-than-life, voracious woman she once was. My heart hurts.
Dusting my hands, I refuse to dwell on what can never be. “Anyway, I’ve brought you a present.” Moving back to my bag, I take out another hessian square. Kneeling before Mom, I slowly unwrap it. “It’s crystal quartz. When it touches your skin, energy merges.” Shrugging one shoulder, I continue. “It’s meant to encourage health and healing, but you already know that, don’t you, Mom?”
Silence.
Sighing, I place it in a patch of sunlight on the windowsill. �
��I’ll let it charge for a while.” Then, rummaging through my bag for a final time, I retrieve a comb, hand mirror, and a small box. Holding them up in front of me, I grin. “How about we go purple today?” I shake the box of hair dye. “It’s your favorite. Besides, the tips we did last week have faded, and no one wants washed-out color.”
She doesn’t respond. However, thinking back to the wild colors she’s had in the past, I know she’d love the idea. So I busy myself getting ready.
Forty minutes later, I nod in satisfaction. “Perfect.” Holding up the hand mirror so she can see the bottom inch of hair, which is now bright purple—not that she notices—I smile. “You’re as good as new.”
Jeanette knocks and then walks in with a tray of food in her hands. “Hey, love.” Her eyes twinkle when she spies Mom. “Well, look at you.”
“It suits her, don’t you think?”
“It really does.” She grins. “Time for breakfast, Dawn.”
Giving Mom a kiss and a gentle squeeze, I murmur, “I need to go, but I’ll be back again tomorrow morning.”
After quickly tidying up and returning everything to my bag, I throw it over one shoulder. “We’re starting tracking today.”
Jeanette settles in beside Mom, the food tray on her lap. “Honey, I have no idea what that means, but I’m truly happy for you.”
Bending down, I kiss her too. “Thank you.”
She pushes me away good humoredly.
“You on shift tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Just go and be a rock star already. Us girls are fine right here, aren’t we, Dawn?”
Silence.
However, knowing there is no kinder soul on the planet to care for my mother, I leave.
The drive back to Zeke’s waterfront home-slash-studio takes twice as long. Mostly because it’s uphill and my poor Honda Civic can’t deal with the demands of both turning corners and accelerating at the same time. But it’s also because I stopped off at home again to pick up some more belongings. So when I finally pull into the undercover garage with smoke billowing from my car, I know Zeke’s going to be pissed.
Promising my Honda I’ll be back with some coolant later, I sneak inside. Well, I try to be sneaky, but as I creep into the production room and slide into the empty seat beside Drake, it’s obvious my efforts are wasted.