Her mother would later sit at the piano or behind a drum set or stand and strum the violin. Angelica was a prodigy who played every instrument. Spin would twirl and dance to each layer, understanding their solo story as well as how each chapter of the songbook went together making a cacophony of harmony.
Spin could pick out each instrument as well as hear them together. She’d closed her eyes and get lost in the melodic ease of the piano. She’d sail away on the notes of the violin. She’d escape behind the pulsing drumbeats. Listening to the music now always brought her closer to her mother. As close as she could get now that they would forever be out of each other's reach.
Spin opened her eyes to the flashing lights and fists punching in the air. Her heart raced as she looked out over the crowd. Not a single face was recognizable, just the feeling that she was being watched, and she’d need to run.
She sped up the tempo until she felt her heart would burst. She'd have to run again. She'd have to slip into the roar of the world until she blended into the pulse of a crowd and couldn't be distinguished from one note to the next.
With her time on stage nearing its completion, Spin brought the music to a dénouement. She lifted the needle on the turntables. The silence lasted a split second before the crowd went wild.
“Spin d’Elle,” they chanted.
She didn't bow. She lifted her hands and pointed out to the crowd, thanking the people for taking the journey with her. Now she had to leave them for a journey of her own. By morning, she’d step onto a new land, find new chords and melodies to mix together a new story.
She was never alone as long as she had her music. There was nowhere that she’d ever called home. She and her mother had moved since Spin had started to walk. She remembered seeing the roots of a tree and asking her mother what the gnarled, spindly thing was. Even as a child, she couldn’t fathom how something could burrow into the ground and stay, never leaving the one spot.
Houses were temporary. She’d never owned a dresser where she’d put away clothes. A suitcase was the only storage she needed. She had hers backstage. In it was all she needed.
Over the year she’d been in Nice, Spin had never acquired more than would fit inside the case. There had been too many times in her youth when her mother would tell her they had to go and Spin would agonize over leaving something that wouldn’t fit in her small Hannah Montana suitcase behind.
She’d learned her lesson well.
Spin looked around as she stepped off the raised platform. She doubted she’d see the tall, crepe-thin man in the makeshift club. Raves were a thing that began in the Generation X days. The man who’d been snooping around her hostel looked as though he could’ve been born at the start of that generation. But he didn’t look like he was the type that had spun glow sticks in his youth.
She collected her thumb drive. All her music fit inside the small digital device. The clubs all had their own setup. She simply needed to plug in and play. She could do that wherever she was in the world.
There would be more auditioning and proving herself in the next place she landed. But it was her only option. She couldn’t stay here and be found.
Where would she go this time? Maybe she should go back to America. But it was too risky. Too many people still remembered her mom.
Hiding in plain sight had been her strategy for a bit. It had worked for a while as she bounced around Europe. But now the jig was up.
She’d hadn’t been to Asia or the Middle East. New adventures, new music, new parties. Whichever fare was cheaper, that’s where she’d go.
Decision made, she headed back to the manager’s office to collect her pay for the night. Now was the time she wished Lark was at her side. Her only friend was probably out in the crowd dancing her sparkles away, but Spin was doing her best to avoid her friend. She hated goodbyes.
“So, where to next?”
Spin pulled up short, nearly jumping out of her skin. The hall had been empty before. Now Lark stood there.
“For crying out loud.” Spin clutched at her heart from the fright.
“Sorry, sorry,” Lark giggled. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”
Lark held up her fingers in what she’d told Spin was the Girl Scout pledge. Spin wouldn’t know. She’d never stayed anywhere long enough to memorize a pledge.
“You on your way to get paid?” Lark looped her arm through Spin’s and leaned her head on her shoulder. “‘Cause I’m starved. Let’s pool our money and go someplace nice tonight.”
Spin sighed, relaxing into her friend’s hold. It wouldn’t hurt to wait until dawn to leave. She wouldn’t tell Lark she was going. This would be the last night they had together. She'd make it memorable.
"That was a fantastic set,” said a husky voice from behind them.
Spin looked the newcomer up and down. The young woman had multicolored hair -every shade of the rainbow. Either she had a deft hand when it came to hair dye or that had cost a pretty penny at the salon. Her prescriptive glasses were wing-tipped like something from the movie Grease. Spin liked the mashup.
"Thanks." Spin gave the girl a head nod.
"The way you mixed the seventies music with today’s. And then you tossed in a classical riff? My heart is still pounding from it.”
Yeah, this girl got it. “Thanks …” Spin waited for the woman to fill in her name.
“I’m Parker.”
“Spin.”
“I know.” Parker grinned, but not in the cheesy fangirl way. It was in a way that showed awe and respect for Spin’s talent. “Listen, I know it's short notice, but if you're at all free tomorrow, I'd love for you to DJ my office party.”
Spin hesitated. She wasn’t trying to stay in Nice for any longer than necessary.
“But there’s a catch,” Parker continued. “It’s not here in France. It's on a cruise ship.”
"An office party on a cruise ship?”
"Yeah, it's a business thing. A retreat for all the workers."
"You have a cool boss."
Parker shrugged. “Some think so. So, are you in? I happen to know the boss is very generous when it comes to entertainment. Plus, a free cruise. And your friend is welcome to come along.”
Lark tugged at Spin’s arm like she was a kid being offered her pick on the ice cream truck. Her eyes went puppy dog wide as she silently pleaded.
“Where are you sailing?” asked Spin.
“A small island in the Mediterranean Sea. It’s called Cordoba.”
That was even closer to the Middle East than France. Her fare would likely be cut in half from the island. What did Spin have to lose? It would get her out of France for free, give her some more time with Lark, and she’d get a paycheck out of it.
Chapter Seven
It was the height of wastefulness. Flying two hours to France to sail for ten hours back to Córdoba. Zhi would've done it without a second thought a few years back when he didn't know the balance of his family’s accounts. Now, his belly ached at the expense, even though it wasn’t his dime being spent.
Stepping off Omar's private jet into the bright Nice afternoon, Zhi let out a long, weary sigh. What was he doing here? He had no time for such frivolous activities as an overnight cruise. His to-do list back at Mondego House was ever increasing.
He wouldn’t be wrong to say the list was taking on water. The estate was sinking. The booty had been looted, the coffers ransacked. He and his staff were all standing on a shaky plank. The smart thing would be to jump ship, not board someone else’s ship. But that’s what he was doing.
He stepped onto the cruise liner hired out by the tech billionairesse. There was no red carpet. Instead, it was neon pink and yellow with glowing painted arrows directing traffic. Partially clad bodies, some also in glowing neon, roamed the main deck in trunks and two-piece swimsuits. The aesthetic was beach resort meets warehouse party with a pool at the center of the party, deck chairs fanning out, and a massive dance floor with bodies moving and gyrating.
There couldn’t be more than one hundred people on board the massive ocean liner that easily carried five thousand or more. Zhi was noticing more and more how the rich flushed money down the toilet. Probably because he knew how to fix toilets now.
"Omar, you made it.” A tall, thin woman in cargo pants stepped out of the crowd with her arms wide. The rainbow colored hair announced that she was the event’s hostess and the woman whose interest Zhi hoped to garner.
“Parker.” Omar embraced the young woman. She was engulfed in the massive arms of his friend. After the hugs and pleasantries, Omar turned to Zhi. “Parker, allow me to introduce my dear friend, Diego Zhi Wen de Bernadino, the Duke of Mondego.“
“Wow, that’s a mouthful.” Parker grinned.
Instead of an open-armed hug, she stuck out her hand. Sideways with her fingers splayed, not palms down in preparation for kissed knuckles. When Zhi went to turn her knuckles up for the more noble greeting, she clasped his fingers in a firm handshake. Undaunted, Zhi turned her palm down and brushed his lips over her knuckles. When he looked up, she had one brow raised and the other lowered in a quizzical look.
“Europeans,” Parker chuckled. She grinned good-naturedly and patted Zhi’s hand.
The gesture reminded Zhi of how his mother used to pat his hand or his cheek when he’d done something to make her proud of him.
Zhi released her hand. Maternal pride wasn’t the direction he was aiming for with this woman. At this rate, he was headed right into the friend zone. Or possibly worse, the little kiddie zone.
He straightened to his full height. But found that he only had about half an inch on Parker. She was tall and wearing flats.
“Let me get some kandi for you both.” Parker dug into the shoulder bag resting on her hip.
Zhi took a deep breath and clenched his teeth. He knew Parker was into the rave scene from reading the article, and a few other articles he’d found about her on Google. He’d never been one for the drug scene. He could never be with a woman who casually did drugs.
He frowned as he watched Parker slide colorful neon bracelets over Omar’s wrist. She turned to Zhi holding a few more of the strung beads. He wondered if they were perhaps edible? But as she slid them over his wrist, he could tell they were nothing but plastic.
“Why don’t you two go put your bags down,” she said. "The party’s about to get started."
The party hadn’t started yet? There was loud music playing, bodies swaying, and drinks flowing. He began to wonder even more what he had gotten himself into. Parker gave Omar another huge grin and shoulder squeeze, then she turned to greet the next set of guests to come aboard.
Zhi watched after her for a moment. She wasn't the type of girl he typically dated. She was in cargo pants and a graphic T-shirt. Dark eyeliner lit her brow, and only a coat of lip gloss touched her lips.
She hadn’t given him the googly-eyed gaze he was used to receiving from the opposite sex. Nor had she tried to engage him in conversation. He would’ve thought that she was into Omar with the hugs and grins she gave him. But she was doing the same to the next group of young women and men who’d come onboard. Perhaps that was just her personality.
So, why not with him?
Zhi wasn’t used to working hard to get a woman’s attention. He’d never had to work hard at anything until recently. Perhaps there was a YouTube video on this too?
A quarter hour later and the same indistinct loud music blared as he came back to the main deck. The sound halted him in his tracks. Songs that had no business being together crashed one into the other as though shoving through a door that was too small.
The pulse brought on a headache the closer he got to the source. Unfortunately, he’d have to go right into the eye of the storm because that’s where she was.
Parker jumped and swayed and spun at the center of it all. Her multi-colored hair bounced like a rainbow shimmering after a morning’s rain. At the end of that rainbow might be a pot of gold. So, with a long sigh, Zhi made his way through the crowd.
He was jostled by bodies jumping not only up and down but side to side. He dodged flailing arms and elbows. No one heard, or simply didn’t pay heed, to his calls of excuse me and apologies. Finally, he realized the only way to get through the crowd was to join in on the insanity.
He jumped up and down flailing with the rest of them. No one was more surprised than Zhi when he didn’t sustain a single injury in the melee. And then he was right next to her.
For a moment she simply danced alongside him. When Parker finally looked up, surprise lit her dark brown eyes when recognition dawned. She offered his shoulder a squeeze, then she threw her hands up and threw her body even more fervently into the dance.
They continued to dance close. As close as two people could get while jumping and bopping and flailing limbs. It wasn't one of the ballroom dances or partner dances Zhi was accustomed to. He wished he could just pull her close into his arms and gaze into her eyes in order to capture her full attention. Trying to jump in sync wasn't working.
As though the gods of the sea heard him, the beats slowed. Zhi wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but he thought he heard the sounds of a violin mixing in with the drum beats. Was that one of Bach’s fugues?
Zhi held still to listen. The notes were unmistakably Bach. Unfortunately, the true mistake was standing still on the dance floor.
The tide had changed. Parker had been swept up. She was now dancing away from him. Before Zhi could make a move to change course, a scratch sounded, and the music changed.
Gone was the soothing keys of Bach. In its place was a Top Twenties chart-topper. The crowd exploded.
Zhi wasn't ready for it. He was bounced around and bumped into and jostled in different directions until he didn't know which way was right or left or up or down. Parker was nowhere to be seen.
He reached out his hand to steady himself and gain his bearings. His hand rested on something that kicked at his fingers. He looked down to see that he was at the massive speakers.
He jerked his head up and took a step back. His back met with a sharp edge. His feet came out from under him. The last thing he heard was the sound of the needle scratching the record of the awful pop song and then blessed silence.
But the silence only lasted a split second as he crashed down and onto the floor.
He put out his hand and tumbled. His fingers wrapped around another pulsing surface. But it was warm and soft and curvy. It was a woman.
Zhi found himself wrapped around a woman with the deepest blue eyes and golden strands of hair. Her lush lips were turned down in a frown. Zhi had the irrational urge to taste that frown. Something in his mind swore that it would be sweet.
The woman’s eyes widened as though she saw the trajectory of his thoughts. Her gaze slipped to his lips as well. He would never know if she would give him the go-ahead or shove him off her. The sound of booing jerked their attention back to the crowd of dancers who were all staring down at them.
Chapter Eight
Spin had just begun her crescendo when the music died, and everything around her came crashing down. She was running over her set time of two hours, but she hadn’t felt the slightest bit of fatigue because the crowd was so into it and so responsive.
It was always hard coming into a new club or a new clique, but Spin was a pretty good read of people. The average person could lie with words and tell her they liked a certain type of music. Or that she’d done a good job even when she knew a mix wasn’t exactly on the beat. The movement of a crowd of bodies always told the truth.
The small crowd of less than one hundred of Parker’s employees and friends had held up the walls when Spin had first dropped the needle. They cast doubtful glances at the disco anthem she began with. But like the song promised, she soon turned the beat around and the party upside down. When the percussive beat and syncopated rhythms chimed in, the crowd slowly migrated away from the walls and onto the dance floor. The migration continued, and their bodies began to reall
y move as she sped forward in time to the music they knew and loved.
She kept reading them, working them into a frenzy. She dropped an oldie but goodie that was remixed and mashed up with a little acid house beat and the crowd went wild. They were in the palm of her hands.
Until it all came crashing down. Not only had the music stopped, but her body was also tumbling down to the hard ground. She closed her eyes waiting for impact. It never came.
Spin found herself wrapped in warmth and a spicy, expensive hint of musk and … was that Pine Sol? She was brought back to walking in the woods of Ontario where a deep breath smelled of Christmas and warm fires.
Spin had never had a Christmas tree. She and her mother never stayed in a place long enough to decorate one. But they did spend a lot of time out of doors walking in forests.
The memories assailed her as she was curled inside the man’s arms. For the first time in her life, she wanted to stay put and snuggle under a blanket with someone. She wanted to chop down a tree and decorate it with tinsel. She'd been so set to run just a moment ago, but now for the first time in a long time, she wanted to hold still in the silence.
The deafening silence of the party where she was being paid to perform. Spin opened her eyes to find the man staring down at her in concern. His catlike eyes were owl wide as they gazed down at her. Spin found herself lost in their dark depths.
A sparkle of light emanated from around his irises, and she felt warmed through. His gaze dipped to her lips, and she inhaled. Was he about to kiss her? Was she going to let him? Clearly, she was considering it as he was still on top of her, staring down at her, and she hadn’t shoved him off.
It was the sound of boos from the crowd that finally brought them both back to their senses.
"I'm so sorry,” he said. His voice was honey rich but darker. More like sandalwood which would make sense with the earthy scent coming off his body. "Are you hurt?"
Spin knew she should answer, but she was far too busy picking the tone of his voice apart. She wondered if she could sample its timbre, reproduce it digitally, and play it on a loop. The frequency of it would suit a jazz tempo or a techno beat.
The Duke and the DJ: a Sweet Royal Romance (The Rebel Royals Series Book 3) Page 4