Miranda nodded absently. That was true. But it's not like Carl was really distracting her. He was tough about making sure she was doing what she wanted to be doing. He never tried to guilt her or talk her out of studying like she'd seen some of her friends have to experience. He was her biggest cheerleader if anything.
But he did take up a huge part of her thoughts every day.
Giving that up sounded awful.
Lately the only thing that didn't stress her out was Carl.
She even looked forward to his ridiculous debates. Probably because they usually ended with him kissing her breathless.
It did not suck.
“Hey, Ma?” she asked, leaving her chair and transferring to a stool at the breakfast bar. “Do you think I'm being smart about this thing with Carl?”
Stella paused, her hands freezing over the cheese she was crumbling. Her face and eyes went guarded and she took in a slow breath. “What do you mean, Miranda?”
Miranda put both elbows on the bar and stuck her chin in her hands. “I mean, I'm so very close to being done. Am I being fair to him? The only time he gets to see me is when he's helping me with my stuff. We never get to do the regular dating things, like go out.”
Stella nodded and swallowed. “I think I need a glass of wine. Do you need a glass of wine?”
Miranda shook her head.
“Gerard, do you want a glass of wine?”
Miranda pivoted her chin towards the door where her dad was standing. He moved to her and patted her shoulder as he took a seat.
“Hi, daddy.”
“Hey, sweetie.”
“Ma's avoiding answering my question,” Miranda pointed out glumly.
“I'm not avoiding. I'm thinking. And I might as well get myself a glass of wine while I do that.”
Gerard O'Neil smiled thoughtfully at his wife and cast a glance at Miranda. “I don't think it's a huge secret that we like Carl.”
“It's not,” Miranda agreed. “I like him too. A lot. I guess... I guess that's why I'm worried if I'm being fair to him. I feel like I'm taking a lot and I really haven't been able to give very much. It just feels really lopsided.”
“I think,” Gerard began, eyebrows dipping low. “That Carl is the kind of man who needs to make that judgment for himself. He got to know you, he knew your schedule and what you're working towards. He didn't walk into this blind.”
“That's true,” Miranda murmured.
“Please don't break up with him.”
Miranda's eyes shot up to her mom's. Stella's worried expression wasn't even kind of hidden.
“You thought I was going to break up with him?”
“You tend to pull away from the things in your life that don't...” She searched for the right words, her eyes scanning the counter top as if they would be found there. “Benefit the plan.”
Miranda's head jerked back. “Like what?”
Stella rolled her lips into her mouth. “Your friends, your hobbies, your skating.”
“I just don't have time for that right now. It's not like I forgot about them,” Miranda defended. She was a little hurt that her mom would bring those things up. Miranda missed her friends and skating like crazy. But they all knew sacrifices would have to be made if she was going to stay on track for school.
“That's not what she's saying,” Gerard spoke up.
“I'm saying it a little bit,” Stella corrected. “Your priorities are great and you're doing an amazing job. Your father and I are so very proud of you...”
“But?” Miranda asked, knowing it was coming.
Stella's eyes flicked to Gerard.
“But,” Gerard sighed. “You've begun placing the things that make you happy at the very bottom of the list. We don't want to see you do that to Carl.”
Miranda dropped her hands into her lap and picked at her nails. They weren't wrong. So many times over the past week she had actually felt guilty for being excited that Carl was still coming over. But her dad was right, Carl was going to make his own decision about that. He would have to be the one to decide if being with her was something he was okay with.
“And it's almost summer. You'll have fewer classes and more free time,” Stella pointed out.
“You guys really like him,” Miranda said with a smirk.
“We do,” Gerard confirmed. “He's smart, works hard, and makes my daughter happy. I was surprised to find out he was Wallace Darrow's kid. They are like night and day.”
“He doesn't care for his father,” Miranda told them something they already knew. Carl wasn't exactly discreet about his feelings for his father.
“He's not the only one,” Gerard grumbled as the back door opened up again.
“Those kids have some actual talent,” Carl said, stepping back inside. Miranda's head shot up and her smile was immediate when she saw his familiar scowl. He zeroed in on her expression and came straight to her. “How's the head?” he asked, placing a kiss to her temple.
She leaned into his side and her eyes caught her mom's gaze. “I feel a lot better.”
“I'm on kitchen duty tonight,” Stella announced. “So I'm pretty sure that means Miranda is available for a dinner date.”
Miranda widened her eyes at her mom, but schooled her expression when Carl pulled back and looked down at her face.
“You wanna get out of here for a bit? I'll buy you tacos or something. Then we can come back all fresh and work on our papers.”
Miranda grinned and nodded. Carl went to grab his jacket and Miranda caught her mom's eye again.
“Thanks, Ma,” she said.
Stella just took a drink of her wine and waved them off.
***
Miranda's hands slipped under the hem of his shirt and up his back. Carl reciprocated. Her skin was so much softer than his. He didn't understand the appeal for her wanting to touch him as desperately as she did. His body was hard. Hers was soft. Like silk.
The rough pads of his fingers skimmed over her sides and around her back, her body pressed closer to him. He moved them, easily, so she was lying on the bench and he was above her. She hummed her approval of their new position and he slowed it down again. His kisses telling her, “No need for desperation. I've got you. I'll always get you.”
This was at the top of the list of his fantasies. He'd wanted to makeout with Miranda in his truck since forever. They hadn't even made it to the tacos yet and she was sliding over close to him, sitting in the middle. A spot a girl had never sat before and maybe that's because they all knew it didn't belong to them.
It belonged to Miranda.
He kept a hand on her leg as he drove, she traced the back of it with her fingers, her body heat sinking in through his clothes and fogging up his thoughts.
He'd pulled over into a grove of trees, just off the road, parked and took his time kissing her. Food could wait.
Everything could wait.
They twisted and tangled, touched and tasted, melting into one another. Carl held her face in both of his hands as he gazed down into her eyes. She smiled shyly, her lips swollen from his kisses, her hair spread over the bench seat in his truck, her body safely tucked beneath his.
“I can't believe how beautiful you are sometimes,” he whispered and watched her fall for him just a little bit more.
She touched his forehead and ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back. “I love you.”
Carl cracked a smile, lost in the feeling those words created inside his head and body. He didn't know when his head had been taken over by his heart, but he didn't care. He just wanted to hold her in his arms forever.
He followed the light that was filtering through the trees and landing on her lips, sealing her declaration with a kiss. Then he placed slow, open-mouthed kisses one at a time down her neck, savoring her sighs.
He was the only one who got to see Miranda in all her facets. She was alive with fire, burning with brilliance and conviction. And alone with him, she was a sweet surrender, claiming his soul with every breath she g
ave him.
He didn't know, until her, who he could be.
Her belief in him, her wild optimism, made him believe too.
Before Miranda he had nothing.
Now... he had everything.
Part 3
“Expiration Dates”
“But really, shouldn't the question be what happens if a sex-charged mink finally gets what he wants?”
“No, that's the dumbest question I have ever heard. It's completely irrelevant to the original discussion.”
“Which is?”
“What is the geopolitical impact of those furry horny assholes being set loose in a retirement community?”
“I feel like furry part of 'asshole' is sort of a given.”
“Someone explain geopolitical to me again.”
“The combined geographical and political factors that determine the course or policy of a nation.”
“Why does Sway always say the dumbest things and the smartest things? It doesn't seem fair somehow.”
“So we're comfortable with using a retirement community as the place holder for nation in this discussion?”
“How sex-charged are they? Does it wear off eventually?”
“That's what I was asking! If they bang like crazy, does it diminish? Or should they just stay incredibly hydrated? Or both?”
“I'm not really familiar with a mink's normal libido operation. I think that's really where this has to start. How can anything get answered before we understand the base information.”
Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and waiting for the voices to fade away as Harrison pulled the sliding glass door closed behind them.
More than a year and a half later and that discussion was still happening. She sometimes wanted to strangle Carl for coming up with that scenario, but then he'd presented her with the news clipping that not only showed it was possible, but historical fact. It had only fueled the speculators. And by that, she meant the band.
Harrison's band was a thing now. Like, an actual one. They had a name and everything. Which Miranda secretly took credit for.
She had used young Sway's addiction to college girls and his amazing ability to charm the sun into shining directly on him for her research and paper requirements in her Perception and Behavior class. She'd gotten an A.
And the band became Double Blind Study.
They were winners all the way around.
Blake Diedrich had joined the band, and the O'Neil family for the most part. Miranda got her rescuing tendencies from her mother it seemed. Blake moved into the guest house out back and now their dinner table held one more.
Blake was from somewhere down south. He talked like a punker and dressed like a biker. He'd also added a missing element to the band. Carl referred to it as the “stop giving a shit” element. They began to play regularly booked shows around the area and for campus parties. They were growing in demand.
Sometime around winter of last year, Carl had assumed the role of “tour manager.” In mid-spring they had their first real “tour” as a band. Miranda hadn't been able to miss that much school and so she just got the highlights from Carl when he called her every night. She'd been worried that he would fall behind with his classes, but he didn't.
Now they were both perched on the edge of their final year of school.
Miranda couldn't believe how quickly the last eighteen months had happened. She often wondered if it would have dragged more if she hadn't had Carl to keep life exciting. Because he did. He was an exciting person. He was the only person in the world who could get her out of her head and into something else. Usually his truck. His arms. His world.
And Carl's world was unlike the rest of it.
He was strong and sure and made her feel like she didn't have to carry so much. She could relax and just... be.
One year of school left and then they'd graduate at the same time. She was so close she could taste it.
Her last year was going to be packed, she just kept reminding herself that it was worth it. This had always been the plan. She would be two years ahead of most of her peers, her life would be right on track, she'd be able to get into an entry level job with the state art agency... and that's when the real work would begin.
She'd had a dream for as long as she could remember of being involved in a huge way with making the arts more accessible to the youth. She held a deep-seated belief that early education in the arts encouraged healthy emotion development in young people. And unfortunate economic circumstances shouldn't ever prevent a child from experiencing that. She wanted to assist in making sure art departments and art education was available in all schools and communities.
Thinking about it got her blood pumping. She just wanted people to chase their dreams, whatever they were. And art was inspiring in the best way. Art touched people on an intimate level, they all saw something different. What was personal for the artist, becomes personal to the viewer. And it often acted as a catalyst for dream building.
And Miranda was all about dream building.
Seeing young people who were too afraid to dream suddenly have one?
It was a rush like nothing else.
Her plan was perfect. She was right on track.
Nothing could slow her down now.
***
Carl ran his tongue over his teeth as he studied the sheet of paper in his hands.
“What do you think?”
Luke's arms were crossed over his chest, one hand rubbing his jaw. Nervous energy took the form of him slightly rocking side to side on his feet.
“I think it looks like a pretty straight forward contract,” Carl answered, his eyes skimmed over the finer details again and narrowed in on the terms that bothered him the most. “Are you comfortable with that kind of commitment?”
Luke sighed, dropping his arms and pacing across the garage floor. The rest of the band members watched, quietly tuning their instruments. Whatever Luke decided would be the end of it. They had appointed him leader for that reason. Also, they were all so damn excited about being offered a contract at all that they were willing to sign over their firstborns (which none of them had yet). It was good that they had given Luke the final say. He was more methodical in his decision making. He was also smart enough to ask Carl to look it over.
“It seems a little like they're hoping you guys are too young and stupid to know what you're doing,” Carl said, his thoughts coming out like they usually did. “If it were me? I'd make changes and send it back to see if they accept.”
“What if they change their mind and pull the offer completely?” Luke asked, his shrewdness apparent in his chin tilt.
Yeah, he wasn't the idiot the label thought he was.
“Then they do. It shouldn't bother you too much. It really is going to come down to what you want. Do you want to be their bitch, or do you want to have a professional and mutually beneficial contract with them?” Carl pointed to the section about profit sharing. “They shouldn't even be asking for this high of a percentage. The most they can ask for is to cover cost, after that, it's a bonus. They should have to work for a higher profit if that's what they want. If you sign this as-is, you won't get shit, and their marketing will be done on a template. It should be individualized for this band. You're not a cookie-cutter rock group. You're not going to produce a couple of popular radio hits and tank by your sophomore album. That's what this contract is implying. If you're comfortable with that kind of an insult, go ahead and sign it.”
Carl rubbed his cheek, wishing like hell he could have a smoke break but he'd been trying to quit.
“I don't want to be their bitch,” Blake spoke up.
Luke took the contract back from Carl and looked over it again with renewed interest. “You're right.”
“I usually am,” Carl agreed.
“I'll make the changes and send it back.” His blue eyes shot to Carl's. “We want to have you as our touring manager.”
Carl pursed his lips. “The label
probably has a preference for that. They have no reason to hire me.”
“That's a deal-breaker,” Sway stated. “We've already discussed that part.”
Luke held Carl's eyes. “If you want to that is.”
Carl lifted his eyebrows, considering their offer. He still had a year left of school and then he was planning on marrying Miranda (she didn't know that part yet). This contract could take effect before the end of the year. Who knew when the touring would begin.
He nodded his head slowly. “I'll have to think about it, but my gut says that it'll probably be a yes.”
Luke grinned, satisfied with that answer. Carl's eyes shot to Harrison who still hadn't said anything. His dark eyes bored into Carl, jaw working under his skin. Then he jerked his head down, fiddling with his guitar.
Interesting.
***
“What's that look mean?”
Miranda slid her eyes from their blank stare at her computer screen to Carl, who sat in his usual place across from her in the kitchen. She shrugged, not knowing how to answer that question.
“It's a great opportunity for them, Ran. I thought you'd be more excited,” he said cautiously.
“Oh, I am,” she blinked furiously. “I'm just surprised that you said you'd go with them is all... I guess.”
His eyebrows snapped together. “Why? I've been going with them every other time. What makes this different?”
“I don't know,” she said truthfully. “Feels different I guess. More reckless, I suppose.”
Carl grinned. “That's kind of the appeal, babe.”
She rolled her eyes and tucked one leg underneath her. “Aren't you worried about falling behind in school and stuff?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I'm basically done anyway.”
“No, you're not. You have two semesters left.”
He shrugged, like it was all the same to him. “It's mostly tying up loose ends at this point. I can finish that at anytime.”
Miranda's stomach soured and began to back up into her esophagus. She swallowed hard, pushing it back down. “But the plan was to finish together.”
Into the Night We Shine Page 11