Turn up the Tempo (Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 4)

by Charli B. Rose

  Dead.

  Gone.

  She could’ve been gone forever.

  Weariness made my steps heavy. I was on my way back to Mom’s hospital room after spending my morning dealing with paperwork for the insurance company, then arranging a cleaning service to go through the house and figure out what could be cleaned and saved, followed by meeting with a moving company to pack anything that was salvageable, all while trying not to think about Brittany. And I was failing miserably on that front. She still hadn’t responded to my text. My fingers itched to send another. But what else could I say? As unbelievable as it sounds, I think I’m falling in love with you?

  Yeah, that wasn’t a bomb to drop through text. Besides, I still wasn’t sure what my feelings were. I only knew I hadn’t felt this way before.

  Stuffing my confusing emotions down, I forced a smile on my face just before I knocked on the partially closed door. “Knock, knock,” I called softly as I pushed the door open all the way.

  “Brooksy, my baby,” Mom called from her bed. Her voice was raspy, but it was so damn good to hear her call my name.

  “Mom,” I croaked, unable to keep the emotion from bubbling up in my throat.

  Her frail arms spread wide, waiting for me to fling myself into them. So I did, carefully, mindful of the IV taped to her arm and the canula in her nostrils. She squeezed me tightly. The scent of smoke and ash still clung to her hair and skin.

  “How are you?” I whispered once she finally loosened her hold on me.

  She waved her hand at me dismissively. “I’m fine. Just breathed in a little too much smoke. I can’t believe I forgot about the stupid candles.” She rolled her eyes in disbelief.

  “We’re just glad you’re OK, Mom,” Bri said, patting Mom’s hand.

  “It’s going to take more than a little fire to knock this old girl down. I’m a warrior,” Mom said with a wide smile, then started singing her anthem.

  I couldn’t help but return her grin. There was time for worrying and scolding and planning later. At that moment, we needed to just enjoy being alive and being together.

  Our moment of levity was interrupted by a nurse needing to take Mom down for some tests. Bri and I headed to the cafeteria to wait. After we’d grabbed something to eat, we settled at a table in the corner.

  “I think our timeline has changed. Mom can’t stay on her own anymore,” I said, getting to the point.

  Bri nodded her head sadly. “I know.” She took a sip of her coffee.

  “And the whole plan about leaving her in a familiar environment has literally gone up in smoke,” I pointed out, taking a bite of my sandwich.

  “Yeah. So, what do you think we should do?” She plucked a grape from the bunch on her tray and popped it into her mouth.

  “As the cab hauled me all over town this morning, I did some research on my phone. I researched several assisted care facilities in LA for Mom to move to,” I admitted.

  Her head jerked up sharply when I said LA. “What?”

  “It makes the most sense.” When she opened her mouth to argue with me, I held up my hand to stop her. “There are so many more facility options out there than here. Several of the ones I checked out online provide care, assistance and supervision, while still letting their residents maintain a sense of independence. The ratio of patient to caregiver is quite low, so Mom would get a lot of one on one care. She’d be surrounded by others who are going through similar health challenges. She wouldn’t feel so alone in this.”

  “All that sounds good, but what about her life here?” Bri asked, shredding her napkin.

  “What about her life here? She just lost her home. She’s not going to be able to live alone anymore. She can’t move in with you. You can’t watch her twenty-four-seven. You deserve to have a life. To go to work without worrying, to have fun, to find love,” I pleaded.

  “And what about her friends?” Bri was grasping.

  “She’ll make new friends. How often does she spend time with her friends now?” I folded my straw paper back and forth, creating an accordion shape.

  “A couple of them she sees every week. But a lot of them sided with Amelia, so Mom doesn’t really talk with them anymore.” Bri snatched one of my fries and dragged it through the puddle of ketchup on my plate then stuffed it into her mouth.

  “In LA, she wouldn’t have any surprise run-ins with Dad or Amelia,” I pointed out. That definitely had to be a bonus. Being stuck in the same community as her cheating ex-husband and her former best friend couldn’t have been easy on Mom.

  “I know you’re right. But I’m not there,” she said quietly.

  “You could be,” I offered, peeking at her slyly.

  Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “How? Where would I live? What would I do for work? I can’t just move.”

  “There’s an available unit in my apartment building. And I happen to know the landlord is pretty chill,” I said. Satisfied that I had her wheels turning, I took a big bite of my sandwich.

  “I’ve seen your apartment building. I’d never be able to afford to stay there, assuming I could even get a job in the area.” She stabbed some lettuce and a cherry tomato from her salad.

  “I’m pretty sure I can get the landlord to be reasonable on rent for you,” I said, suppressing a smirk.

  She chewed silently for a moment. “Really? Is he a fan, or does he owe you a favor?”

  “It’s my building, Bri. Well, mine, Wilder’s, Jett’s and Maddox’s. We bought it a few years ago. Kind of an investment. You could live there for free if you needed to. Besides in a few months, I’ll be moving to Vegas for a while, so you could just move into my place.” I swirled my straw around in my cup.

  “And a job? I can’t just mooch off my big brother,” she argued, but hope sprang in her eyes.

  “Right now, you do what? Account managing for the company you work for?” She never really talked about her actual job duties.

  “Yeah. I do a few other managerial tasks as well. But mostly, I handle their books. Expenses, profits, losses, budgets, all the money things,” she said, waving her hand around.

  “I know you’re going to think I’m just creating something for you because you’re my sister. But you know the band has started up our own record label, right?” At her nod, I continued, “We plan to produce other artists in addition to our own music. We have a general band manager for us and a head of promotions for the band, but we haven’t filled any other positions at the label. And we desperately need to. Especially with us going to be away from LA for a while.”

  “What are you saying?” she asked cautiously.

  “I’m saying we really need someone to run the record label. If that’s more than you want to take on, then I’d be thrilled if you’d at least manage the books. It’s totally up to you. I’ll have to talk with the guys about the logistics of salary and benefits, but I’m certain they’ll be better than what you currently have,” I said, leaning across the table anxiously. “What do you say, Sis? Wanna move to LA and work for a kick ass record label?”

  She chewed on her lip in contemplation for several long moments. Then her face brightened. “I’d love to. If you think Mom will be OK with relocating to California.”

  “We’ll make her be OK with it. We just need to talk to her when she’s lucid.” I hoped she’d be OK with this. It was what was best for her. But she might not see it that way. It would be hard for her to let go of the past. Her home. Her friends. Dad.

  Chapter 29

  Britt

  I collapsed to the floor, scraping sweat-dampened hair off my face. With a flick of my wrist, I unwound the bun on the top of my head and gathered all my hair to put it back up. I’d been dancing around the clock for the past three days.

  ♪ I Wanna Dance with Somebody by Whitney Houston

  It was pretty much all I’d done since Brooks walked out the door. I missed him so much it was crippling, but I forced myself to ignore his messages and calls. I did my best to push him out o
f my mind. Of course, that was an epic fail. But heartache had inspired some of my most passionate choreography.

  Wilder had tried to cheer me up—invited me to go salsa dancing, begged to take me to dinner.

  But I just couldn’t spend time with him. As wonderful a guy as Wilder was, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he felt about me. Or the way I felt about Brooks. Spending time with Wilder would be wrong for all of us. The thought of it felt like a betrayal.

  Three days of isolation had paid off though. I was completely satisfied with the routines I’d created for every song on the album Dub had given me. I’d been sending Will snippets of video, and he was excited to see the finished numbers.

  The timing was perfect. I’d finished just in time for the cruise line job audition. Plus, Will had arranged for me to do another music video shoot. It would pretty much be freestyle dancing, so I didn’t have to work on ideas ahead of time.

  Grabbing my towel, I mopped my forehead and face. Then I draped it around my shoulders. Once I caught my breath, I turned off the music blaring through the speakers mounted high in the corners of the room. I grabbed the video camera off the tripod. Shutting off the lights, I locked up the pool house and slowly moved across the yard where Lyric played happily with a colorful rope.

  Indulging for a moment, I dropped to a squat as she barreled toward me. I reached out and clutched the wet end of the rope hanging out of her mouth. Gently, I tugged. She braced herself and yanked back, growling in that puppy tone. I played tug of war with the little rascal for a while. Then I headed inside to send the video files of each song’s dance to Dub and Will and then shower.

  By the time I went back downstairs, Will had messaged back.

  Will: Dub and I love what you’ve done.

  Will: Can we meet tomorrow?

  Me: I can do any time before lunch.

  Will: Great. How about 9? Quik Fuze wants to meet you.

  I couldn’t suppress the squeal of excitement that slipped out of my mouth. My fist pumped in the air.

  Me: Sounds great. See you then.

  Quik Fuze was a big deal. The hip-hop duo was taking the music world by storm. My life was changing so rapidly where my dancing career was concerned. I couldn’t quite get a handle on it.

  I sank to the couch with chicken wings Wilder had gone out for a few nights ago. I tried to block out the memories of that night and everything that came after. It was infinitely harder since I was shrouded in his scent because, like an idiot, I’d donned the shirt Brooks left behind in his latest hasty departure. In time, the smell would fade away. So would the memories. And the heartache.

  At least, that was what I tried to convince myself of as I dunked a chicken wing in ranch dressing. Mindlessly, I scrolled through the TV channels, looking for a show to get lost in. Nothing would do that more than trashy reality television. I quickly punched in the numbers to navigate to that channel. The perky host of a celebrity gossip show appeared on the screen.

  I listened half-heartedly as she droned on about the latest celebrity breakups. But when an image of Giselle flashed on the screen, I started paying attention.

  “You may remember not that long ago, we showed you a clip of our favorite glamour queen, Giselle walking the red carpet with a certain sexy rock star.” A still shot of Brooks and Giselle at the recent movie premiere dominated the screen. “We, like all of you all, wondered if sparks were flickering back to life between the two of them.”

  The photo faded from the screen. The show’s host leaned toward the camera and lowered her voice like she was sharing a secret, “I’ve seen a sneak peek of the first episode of Glamour Queen. I’m supposed to keep things hush, hush … but you all know I’m not great at keeping secrets. So, I’m going to let you make up your own minds.”

  The set of the show disappeared and was replaced by a video of Giselle and Brooks strolling hand in hand outside of some fancy restaurant. I shifted to the edge of the cushion as the video froze on the couple.

  My heart lurched and cracked as I took them in. Giselle looked effortlessly beautiful—long, blonde hair flowing in the breeze, red dress hugging every curve, bright smile as she peered up at Brooks. And Brooks looked as sexy as ever in his black leather jacket, deep red T-shirt and jeans ripped at the knee. The familiarity of his image yanked my heart, making it crash against my ribcage, battering against its physical cage in an effort to escape. To flee.

  ♪ How Can I Fall by Breathe

  The voiceover of the talk show host encouraged viewers to tune in to see the whole situation unfold in mere minutes.

  My stomach churned at what might be revealed. With my appetite gone, I shuffled to the kitchen and dumped everything on my plate into the garbage. Listlessly, I put the dishes in the dishwasher.

  Against my better judgment, I headed back to the living room. Lyric danced around my ankles as I went. When I dropped to the couch, I scooped her up, needing the affection she was sure to give me.

  The theme song for Glamour Queen began playing. What was supposed to be a peppy, happy song sounded like a funeral dirge to me. My gaze was glued to the screen with dread.

  The first segment showed Giselle shopping, having brunch with friends, taking her purse puppy to be groomed. When it went to commercial break, I exhaled slowly, breathing for what felt like the first time since the theme song played. I stroked my fingers through Lyric’s soft, thick fur. She butted her head up against my chin in an effort to lick my face, but I tightened my hold. She settled for covering my arm in puppy kisses.

  The show came back and had the cameras following Giselle on a photo shoot for one of the clothing designers she modeled for. My heartrate slowed when the commercials appeared again. There was only one segment left to watch of the thirty-minute reality show.

  When the episode started back, Giselle was dressed for a night on the town. The camera followed as she climbed into the back of a limo outside her luxury apartment building. The scene shifted to the interior of the car as she slid inside. All that was visible initially was the sleek leather, the back of Giselle as she greeted the other occupant with a quick kiss and a hint of flesh visible through a ripped patch of denim. Giselle leaned back with a beaming smile on her face, revealing Brooks next to her.

  My heart lurched as Giselle trailed her silver-tipped fingers down the lapels of his leather jacket. “Look at you, sexy. We match tonight.” Her palm rested on the red cotton covering his muscular chest.

  He winked at her. Then wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  As she snuggled up to him, she said, “Sorry about the last-minute call.”

  Brooks shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I didn’t have much going on.”

  My heart cracked at his nonchalance. The scene on the TV went blurry as tears filled my eyes to the point of nearly spilling over. Instinctively, I continued to pet Lyric.

  The camera followed the trendy couple to a high-profile restaurant. I closed my eyes for a second, unable to watch the pair gaze at each other across a romantic table, flickering candlelight, soft music, wine in glasses. Was that the fancy restaurant he mentioned wanting to take me to?

  My mouth ran dry when Brooks’s sexy rumble came through the speakers. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Seconds later, they were back in the long, black limo. Giselle put her mouth by Brooks’s ear and whispered something to him. It may have been some fancy lighting effect for TV, but his eyes darkened in that way they always did when he was barely holding onto his desire.

  A tear slipped down my cheek as he ran his lips along her cheek to her ear, where he murmured something to her. No doubt it was a filthy promise considering her skin flushed a pretty shade of pink.

  “If we want to be alone, we can’t go back to my place. My contract says I have to let the cameras in. But I have an idea,” she said, pulling her phone out of her purse. Lightning fast, she tapped out a message. “My driver’s going to take care of things.”

  With lust simmering between the pair on the
screen, the scene faded momentarily to black. My mouth ran dry when color slowly added back to the TV. Fingers entwined, the couple strolled down a carpeted hallway to door with a golden knob. Using a keycard, Brooks unlocked it.

  The door silently swung open to reveal an opulent hotel suite, the foot of a ginormous bed just visible in the frame. Giselle disappeared inside with a giggle.

  The camera crew didn’t follow her. Brooks gave them a wink.

  Another tear dropped from my eyes.

  The door shut with a bang as Brooks kicked it.

  The crew remained outside in the hallway long enough to catch the sounds filtering out. The feminine whimpers and raspy groans were unmistakable.

  I jabbed the power button on the remote as the tears flowed unchecked down my cheeks to drip off my chin onto Lyric’s soft fur. Sensing my distress, she leaped up and licked away the salty tracks.

  ♪ Cryin’ by Vixen

  Why did I ever think a guy like Brooks and a girl like me could actually make a go of it together?

  I gazed around the room. Everywhere I looked, a memory of Brooks played out. The coffee table where we ate Japanese food side by side. The corner of the couch where we’d fallen asleep watching Sons of Anarchy. The kitchen counter where he’d made a meal out of me. The open space where we’d danced.

  I couldn’t stay here. Not sober at least. Standing, I carried Lyric to the back door so she could go out and do her business. While she ran around the yard, I dashed up the stairs, avoiding peeking at the wall Brooks had pressed me against to kiss me passionately. And I sure as hell didn’t allow myself to look down the hallway at the door which would’ve ultimately led me to the balcony where we’d spent what I’d considered magical moments.

  In no time, I was dressed and marching out the door to the Uber waiting outside the gate for me. I gave him the name of the only bar I knew. The one the guys always talked about—Hole in the Wall.