Red and Gray picked up their instruments. Deanna, Sam's assistant and all-around savior for the band, walked in with coffee and muffins, smiling at everyone but Red. He got a glare, and Alex wondered what was going on there.
"Let's do it," he said. While his voice sounded exuberant, his brain wasn't fully awake due to the earlier than ordinary session.
Samantha stood in front of the group. "I'm still working on getting a keyboardist." When she suggested they all move to Aspen Cove, Matt said no. He was a surfer through and through and wasn't living where there wasn't a beach with gnarly waves.
Deanna passed Alex a coffee. He didn't function until his third cup was down, but this would put enough zip in his veins to move his hands.
"What about a session player?" There were more musicians in the world than gigs. Once upon a time, he was a rent a drummer and played with anyone willing to give him a check. That was before Samantha found him filling in for the drummer of Rebel Riot, who opened her act years ago.
"I put out some feelers." From her bag, she pulled out sheets of music and handed them to everybody. "How is everyone settling in?"
"All settled and loving the place," Red said. "Thanks for the bonus."
"Yeah," Gray chimed in. "Loving my place, too."
She turned Alex's way. "You doing okay?"
"House is great." He held up his phone. "Still have a fence problem."
Samantha cocked her head to the side. "Did you call the Coopers?"
"Not that kind of problem." He set his coffee and phone down and pulled his hair back into a ponytail. It was his signature look, but it drew attention, especially in a town where entertainers weren't known to live. "Someone outed our location. That damn crazy 'superfan' posted my address, and now I have an underwear problem."
Gray's laughter rumbled through the room. "If you didn't have a chain-link fence, you wouldn't have a problem."
"If I didn't have a fence, I'd have a bigger problem. Just this morning, my cameras caught a woman leaving a gift. Thankfully, she didn't strip down to take them off right there."
Samantha shook her head. "That's just wrong. Not only is it a public nuisance, but hygienically, it's just gross."
Years ago, he would have disagreed, but now it was a source of irritation.
"Why chain link?" Samantha asked. "I think a wood fence or a block wall would serve you better."
He let out a whistle that changed tone with the shake of his head. "Could you imagine not being able to see what I faced. I can visualize it now. I'd enter the locked gate and get swarmed by naked bodies."
Red choked on his coffee. "And you call that a problem? With the lack of women in Aspen Cove, you should feel blessed." He turned to Gray. "Looks like we can hunt at Alex's place since the pickin's in town are slim." A blueberry muffin took flight from Deanna's hand and nailed Red in the side of the head.
"What the hell?" he brushed the crumbs from his hair.
"Sorry, thought you'd like a muffin."
He wiped a smashed blueberry from his temple.
Something was going on between them.
"Do you kids want to talk it out, or should we get started?" Samantha asked
Deanna headed for the door. "I've got furniture coming, so I'll be gone for the day. I just wanted to bring you a snack and wish you guys luck."
"I don't need luck; all I need is sleep," Alex said. "I can't seem to hit REM until morning."
Samantha adjusted the mic. "What you need is a good woman who would give you a reason to come to bed early or tire you out so that sleep comes easily."
Deanna glared over her shoulder at Red and stomped out.
"What the hell is going on there?" Samantha asked.
Red's face turned the color of his name. "Too much wine and several poor choices."
"You didn't." Samantha scowled at him. "You understand I can replace you easier than her, right?"
Red scrubbed his face with his hand. "Look, we're both adults. Something happened, but we realized it wasn't smart to mix work and play. It will be all right."
"See," Alex said. "Women are trouble. I need a woman about as much as I need a concussion."
"I don't know how I work with you Neanderthals. Don't forget, without a good woman, you would have never come about."
That statement was both true and false. Alex wouldn't have come about without a womb, but the "good” part was debatable. What mother had a kid and then drank herself to death?
He picked up his sticks and started his standard warm up while the rest of the band got ready.
"Sound guy will be here in two hours. I think we can lay down tracks." Sam said. "If we hit it hard over the next few weeks, we can finish this album early, and you guys can take the rest of the summer off once we do the concert for the fire department fundraiser."
Red set the sheet music on the stand. "Something new?"
She nodded. "Yep, it just came to me. I'm calling it, 'Right Woman, Wrong Time.'"
"Story of my life," Gray said.
They played for several hours before the sound technician arrived. He wasn't their regular guy, but he was talented and efficient.
They gave Sam's new song a try, and it reminded him of his family. The apple didn't fall far from the tree. He was his father, from the sticks in his hands to the ice covering his heart. If he'd written the song, it would have been called, "Right Woman, No Time."
When Dad was alive, he played for the greats like the Stones and Skynyrd until he got a permanent gig with Drive Shaft. Tragically, he went down in a plane like so many do who travel from show to show. Worse was he was the only member of his band on that plane since he was hitching a ride with another group. Last year Drive Shaft got inducted into the hall of fame without him.
The lyrics were hauntingly familiar.
She needed more.
I gave less.
When it ended, I had nothing left to give, and she had nothing left.
It could have been written about his parents. His mom was a backup singer for a band. While they toured together, things were great. Then she got pregnant, and he left her behind to raise his son while he continued his life of debauchery. With Mom at home, she drank away her loneliness. For Dad, there was too much time and too many women. Dad was an asshole.
They went over the song three times before they called it a day, and on their way out, Gray tossed him a baseball cap. "Tuck that long shit up inside, and no one will recognize you. Without the hair, you look like a dad ready to coach a little league team."
Alex stared at the cap in his hand. Could it be that simple? Was a new identity all he needed? He tossed the hat back. "What if I cut it all off?"
Samantha dropped her mic. "No way. You've been sporting prettier hair than me for years."
It was true. He had better hair than most women, but he didn't ruin it with curling irons and hair dye. He was a wash-and-wear guy.
He couldn't remember a time when his hair didn't hang to the middle of his back. It came part and parcel with his badass drummer image, but he was thirty-eight. Maybe it was time to let it go.
"Dude, I dare you to lob that shit off."
"But the ladies like it," Alex said.
Samantha walked up and yanked his hair tie out. "Yep, the same ladies who stalk you and leave you gifts."
Gray shook his head. "Don't do it. Changes like that could keep you celibate for years."
"Talking from experience?" Alex asked.
"Nope, I do fine with the ladies."
"I'm out," Samantha waved her hand in the air. "Hearing you talk about your conquests makes me want to write a song called, 'Men are Dicks.'"
Red raised his hand. "Guilty."
"I know." She pointed at him. "Fix whatever you have to with Deanna. I was serious when I said it would be easier to replace you than her." Samantha walked out the door.
Gray slapped Red on the back. "You’re expendable."
Red looked around the studio. "We all are. Anyone want to join me for
a beer?"
Alex shook his head. "Naw, I think I am going to get my hair cut."
Twenty minutes later, he was sitting in Cove Cuts, getting his gorgeous mane clipped by the sheriff's wife.
"Are you sure you want to cut it all off?"
He stared in the mirror at his long dark hair. It was time for a change, and if in the process it kept the crazies from pursuing him, then that was a bonus.
"Let's do it."
"You want to donate it to Locks of Love?"
"Sure, it would be nice to know someone benefits."
Hopefully, I will too.
She pulled his hair into a ponytail and chopped it off above the rubber band. She held up close to two feet of hair.
Immediately he felt much lighter and swore he was dizzy, or maybe that was the shock of seeing it all gone.
Marina spent the next thirty minutes shaping it up and giving him a haircut that would make a lawyer proud. When she was finished, he hardly recognized himself.
"I feel naked."
She laughed. "Trust me, you're not. But I think your hair looks nice. You can really see your eyes now and your chiseled jaw."
"Chiseled jaw, huh." If he didn't know she was madly in love with Sheriff Cooper, he would think she was flirting, but she wasn't. She was telling it like it was. He did have noticeable facial features now that his hair wasn't the focus. He rubbed his hand across his jaw. "Leave the scruff or shave it clean?"
"You can't take all the bad boy out of you."
He paid her and walked outside to give his new look a test drive. If the people who knew him didn't recognize him on sight, his fans wouldn't either. At least not until a new picture made the rounds.
He walked into Bishop's Brewhouse and sat at the bar.
Cannon approached and put a coaster in front of him. "Welcome to Bishop's, what can I get you?"
Alex looked straight at Cannon and ordered an IPA. Cannon turned to pull the beer from the tap and glanced Alex's way twice before his jaw dropped.
"Holy shit, I didn't recognize you."
Alex threw his fist in the air. "Mission accomplished."
Chapter Three
Some of the bills Mercy had flung across the room yesterday still littered the floor this morning. While her coffee brewed, she ambled around and picked them up. Stacking them on the table month to month wasn't helping.
She glanced at the one in her hand. Theresa Taft Diamonds. That was for her wedding ring. She tried to take it back, but they didn't accept returns after a year, so she sold it for half of its worth. Actually, half of what he paid, which was far too much for what it was—a small diamond on a gold band.
She grabbed her coffee, took a seat, and closed her eyes. The memory of the proposal was still fresh. Randy was charming, and the courtship a whirlwind. In hindsight, she should have known he was capable of cheating. He picked her up in his office when she came for an insurance quote. He wasn't rich, but he was funny.
On the day he proposed, they went to the lake, and he got down on a knee. It was all so romantic.
"How did everything go to hell?" she mumbled.
The first year was great, and they had fun getting to know each other. He didn't make much money, so she was the primary breadwinner in the family, but that wasn't a problem because they were a team until they weren't.
After their first anniversary, he started complaining about their lack of money. That's when he began his habit of working late. When he smelled of perfume, she didn't worry because he was in close quarters with clients—clients who got more than insurance from her handsome husband. After the funeral, she found out Randy was a serial cheater. He liked the idea of being married to a pretty schoolteacher. It brought him a sense of respectability even though he wasn't respectful to her, their marriage, or his clientele. If he hadn't died, would she still be oblivious to his betrayal?
Slamming her palms on the table in frustration, she caused her coffee cup to spill over the edge. The bills soaked up the liquid in the same way they did every dime she made. How did a man with so little income have so much damn credit?
She had two choices: bankruptcy or another source of income. Randy stole her heart, her trust, and her dreams, and there was no way she was sacrificing her credit score too. She needed a second job; maybe someplace she could pull a few hours year-round to help make ends meet.
Determined to create a better life for herself, she dressed, put a little makeup on, and climbed into her car, an old Volkswagen Beetle decorated with flower stickers and peace signs. She wasn't a hippie, but she loved the happy-looking vehicle, and the kids at school got a laugh from it too. Each year the flower-shaped stickers seemed to reproduce. She was almost sure the glue on the backs kept her car together.
She pulled into the open spot in front of B's Bakery and went inside. If anyone knew about potential jobs, it was Katie. She had her ear to the ground in the small town. With the only bulletin board in town, she was privy to what people wanted and needed, and right now, Mercy needed money.
"Hey, you." Katie leaned against the glass display with a smile as sweet as her brownies on her face. "What brings you in?"
Mercy didn't indulge in baked sweets often. First, they weren't in the budget, and second, they were like a drug to her. Once she started, she wouldn't be able to stop.
"I'd love a cup of coffee." She looked at the sweets behind the glass and sighed.
"Muffin?" Katie pulled out a cranberry orange treat and set it on a plate. "On the house."
"It's not that I can't afford it." She tilted her head to the side. "Things are tight, but a treat now and again is in the budget."
"Take it and have a seat. I made too many today—besides, it's your compensation for having to sit with me for a visit. With the town growing and all, everyone is busy, and my lady friends don't have as much time. If Sage isn't working, she is usually taking a nap, and Lydia never leaves the clinic unless she's with Wes. Louise has eight kids, so how much free time do you think she has?" Katie nodded toward the door. "Natalie used to come in every so often, but she's got Will and Jake, who keep her hopping." She got Mercy's coffee and jutted her chin toward the table. "I need my girl time."
"I could use some girl time too." Mercy felt terrible that she hadn't gone out of her way to forge any relationships in town. She knew of just about everyone but didn't actually know them. After the public scandal and all the tongue-wagging she had to deal with, she'd taken a people hiatus since she arrived. It was time to become part of her community.
They moved to the table under The Wishing Wall.
"Tell me, where have you been hiding?" Katie asked in her Texas twang.
Honesty was at the forefront of her prerequisites for human interaction. She didn't have it with her husband and wouldn't tolerate not having it with anyone else, but did she come out of the gate with her dilemma or ease into it?
"My life has been a bit of a challenge since I moved here." She leaned in and whispered. "My husband passed away last year."
Katie's smile fell, and a tear pooled in her eye. "Oh, honey," she reached over and took Mercy's hand. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry."
While the sympathy was sweet, it wasn't necessary. "Um … thank you, but I have to be honest. Randy was a cheating, lying, sack of shit."
"Oh," Katie's eyes shot wide open. "Karma is a bitch, isn't it? If I caught Bowie cheating on me, I'd castrate him."
The death of Randy wasn't a laughing matter, but Mercy laughed loud and hard.
"Karma did that for me. Car accident."
"Seriously?" It took a few seconds, but Mercy knew when Katie figured it out. "Not that guy."
"Yep, he was mine … well, not really. Apparently, he was a lot of peoples."
"Oh, you poor sweet thing." Katie leaped out of her chair and wrapped Mercy in a hug. "Girl, you should have come in here earlier."
"It's so embarrassing." Her cheeks heated, and she was sure they resembled the color of a cranberry.
"That was hi
s sin, not yours. His stupidity, not yours. His punishment, not yours." She hugged her tightly for a few more seconds before taking her seat.
"That's where you're wrong. I'm still being punished." She glanced at The Wishing Wall. "Do people ask for jobs up there?" She pointed to the corkboard.
"Oh lord, they ask for everything from bigger you-know-whats, to a cure for hemorrhoids. The stuff I see could make a person want to bleach their eyes."
"I thought I'd come in and put my wish on the board. I need a summer job for now and a part-time one once school starts. Do you know anyone hiring?"
"Dang it. I wish you'd come and seen me yesterday. Samantha's crew is in town, and since there isn't much nightlife here, Deanna picked up a part-time job at the bookstore. I don't think she needs it for money, but to ease the boredom of living in the sticks." Katie stared out the window. "With that walking around town, I don't know how any girl could get bored."
Mercy turned around to see what grabbed Katie's attention. Across the street was a man walking into the pharmacy. He was tall with short, dark hair. Though he looked vaguely familiar, she couldn't place him.
"Who's that?"
"Only the biggest heartthrob to move into Aspen Cove. It's Alex Cruz."
Mercy pulled a muscle snapping her head to look where the handsome man entered.
"No way. Alex has long flowing brown hair. That's definitely not him."
Her fingers crossing her heart, Katie said, "I'm telling you. He ditched the Rapunzel locks—had Marina chop them off yesterday and donated them to that place that makes wigs for cancer patients."
"Aww." She softened at that. Any man who donated his hair to help someone feel better was okay in her book. "That was so sweet."
"Not sure if he did it because he was sweet or tired of the stalking. The poor man has so many groupies he can't get a moment's peace. Women stick their underwear in his fence."
Could a heart beat right out of a chest? Was this Katie's way of telling her she knew about the pink panty caper? Nothing in her eyes said she was aware that Mercy shoved hers in his fence.
Mercy's eyes rolled skyward. "Oh yeah, most men would hate skinny, willing hotties hovering. It must be awful having women throw their lingerie at him and offer sex on demand."
One Hundred Lessons (An Aspen Cove Small Town Romance Book 15) Page 2