Echoes in the Wind

by Debra Jupe

  Time stopped again. She tried to swallow. Except a lump formed and now lodged in her throat and blocked the passageways. Her palms dampened. A fiery itch stung around the edges of her shirt collar. Her internal radar soared into high gear. She broke the eye contact. Darla could not lose control here. She needed to say something and leave. But the strange pattern on the fabric of her rescuer’s shirt grabbed her attention.

  She tipped her head slightly and frowned. She stared harder, blinking several times. What th… A loud gasp escaped as she slapped a palm over her mouth. This night kept getting better. Darla lowered her hand and gaped at the pink tinge sprayed across the Raging Impulse lead guitarist’s chest.

  “That’s not good.” He pointed and wiggled a finger over the scattered glass, apparently unperturbed she’d ruined his shirt. “What were you drinking? I’ll get you another.”

  Darla stared, speechless. The inflections of his strong accent made him difficult to understand yet the mere sound of his voice caused her heart to almost stop. It was rich, deep, laced with enough of a rasp to carry a trace of seductiveness. The kind of voice that could convince a woman to do practically anything.

  “What were you drinking?” he asked again. A long moment passed. Those disturbing cobalt eyes continued to study her. “Are you okay?”

  Darla gulped. She was fine except her mind experienced a complete meltdown. Her heart beat in triple time, and she couldn’t catch her breath. And she appeared to have lost the ability to speak. But yeah, she was okay.

  “Wine,” she blurted. “White Zinfandel.” Surprised she’d almost found her wits, she paused and made an awkward gesture over the fresh stain on his shirt. “I don’t know what happened. Um, I got…you were there, it…” Her arm dropped, and she released a heavy sigh. “The glass slipped out of my hand.”

  A slight curve formed across his lips as a wicked twinkle entered his eyes. “I noticed.”

  He moved to the bar, leaving her to fume over her inelegance. Could she be any smoother? She barely spit out a word, forget about completing a sentence. She came off better mute. Twisting a curl around her finger, she remained in place staring at him.

  Like a magnet to steel his gaze connected with hers. A rush of inner heat pulsated and scorched her entire body. The warmth stretched to the outer edges and spread a crimson flush over her skin. Her tongue crossed over her parched lips as she tore her eyes away.

  Stupid hormones. They didn’t just betray her. They’d stepped outside her to do a happy dance.

  She supposed she should give herself a break. The man sizzled hot. Was his thick brogue Scottish or Irish?

  Darla stopped. She needed to get some control over these out of control sensations before she sank to below zero on her shame-o-meter. To divert her attention from him, she stooped to pick up the larger shards of glass scattered across the floor. She still needed something to mop up the liquid. Maybe the guy would let her use his shirt again.

  Darla waved an arm to get his attention, then elevated her voice above the chatter. “Please ask the bartender for a towel or something so I can wipe up the spill.”

  Much better. She, an educated, self-sufficient woman contained her emotions. She didn’t have meltdowns over former teen idols. A white dishtowel spiraled and dangled in front of her face. She snatched the cloth.

  He squatted next to her and held out a dustpan with a nod toward the scoop. “Put the glass in here.”

  With a whiskbroom, he swept up the remaining broken pieces while Darla dabbed up the wine. Once clean, he took the wet towel from her and walked back to the bar. Within minutes he returned with her new glass along with a drink for him.

  “Thank you.” She grasped the goblet and looked up at him. Her mouth went dry. Too busy admiring his other delectable qualities she’d missed how he towered over her. Though not a giant by any means, the way he carried himself made him seem even taller than he actually was. “And thanks for catching me. I’m, I’m sorry about your shirt.”

  Could she not spit out a simple sentence? Okay, so the wet material clung to his chest outlining a pair of broad shoulders and a very muscular torso. She had to get a grip on this situation.

  “Shirts wash.” He flashed a smile, which made him go from good-looking to oooo-la-la. “Teach me to wear a light color, eh?”

  Teach her to not focus her attention on naked people and look where she’s going. Darla ought to walk, correction, run away from this man. Except her feet had somehow super-glued themselves to the floor.

  “My name’s Eric Boyd.”

  Eric. He said his name was Eric. Now she should respond. Maybe try to speak intelligibly. “I’m Darla. Darla Hennessy.”

  “Darla,” Eric repeated. “Pretty.”

  He didn’t offer a hand for her to shake, prompting a mixture of relief and disappointment. Then again after their initial encounter he must find her clumsy and graceless and not worth the effort. His all-knowing gaze peering from under his somehow perfect yet shaggy hair sparked an aura of perceptive danger.

  “It was nice meeting you,” she rushed, “but I need to find my friend. Again, I feel terrible I ruined your shirt.” She stepped backward.

  “Can I ask you something before you go?” His overpowering presence stopped her.

  “I suppose.” Darla shrugged. She hoped to appear indifferent, although she knew she failed.

  He took a step closer, then leaned in. His mouth hovered close to hers, his voice low. “Why are you here?”

  “Excuse me?” Darla shifted away and stared him down.

  “I was wondering what made you show up tonight. I saw you earlier.” A curve lifted the corner of his mouth. He stepped back farther and gave her a lazy once-over. “This doesn’t seem the type of crowd someone like you would want to mix with.”

  She glanced around. The two of them appeared to be in a circle of amplified madness.

  “Someone like me?” Darla shot him a tight smile and ignored his obvious ogling. “I don’t know why you say that, everyone is niccce…”

  Eric grabbed her upper arm to drag her from where she stood. A loud thump landed behind them. She stumbled against him, clutching her wineglass. The liquid sloshed although didn’t spill this time. Once she was steady, he freed her. Darla spun around and released a whispered squeak. A large, unconscious man lay sprawled in the space she’d occupied moments before. A breakout of an argument followed. Fists began to fly among shouts and curses.

  Eric slid his palm down her arm and grasped her hand to hold in a protective grip. He slightly tugged. “We’d better move.”

  He maneuvered her away from the chaos. Her entire body constricted from the implied intimacy. She maintained enough of her faculties to be aware of his hard fingers and the light gentleness of his palm loosely covering hers.

  Oblivious to the mayhem around them, she followed his lead willingly with no idea or concern where he led her. His abrupt release jolted her back to reality. She blinked several times. He’d guided her outdoors onto a massive attached deck.

  With a rueful smile, Darla took a giant step away from him. She had to. Before she lost control and hurled her body into him. This guy practically had her libido exploding. But was her reaction to him even genuine? With the end of her relationship not emotionally set in, how could she want someone else, someone she didn’t know, this quick?

  More yells hailed from within chased by bumps and crashes.

  “Do you think we should call the police?”

  Eric peered inside. “If somebody hasn’t by now, they will soon.” The shatters of something breaking indicated the commotion escalated. His attention returned to Darla. “Maybe we oughta get you out of here.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” A mixture of relief and letdown charged through her. She sat her full goblet down on a nearby table. “A pleasure meeting you, Eric.”

  She spun away and hurried toward the house. She almost made it the door before she stopped. The unruliness indoors sounded worse than before. Some
of the guests were leaving. A dining room chair flew out a nearby window. Darla let out a short scream and whirled back to Eric. He’d leaned a hip against the deck rail with a cigarette clenched between his lips. His drink sat on the banister while he concentrated on the lighter underneath, clicking twice before a blue flame appeared. He inhaled deeply as the flare licked the tip.

  He removed the cigarette, exhaled, lifting his eyes to Darla. “Why are you going inside?”

  “I need to find my friend. We’re together. I can’t leave her.”

  He sucked in a long drag, blew out a hazy stream, and shook his head. “It’s not safe.”

  “But I have to go back for Stephanie.” Darla took another step toward the door. “What if she’s caught up in that? She might get hurt.”

  A small table soared through the same window. Quickly, she jumped to the side to avoid the flying wood. The fixture smashed into tiny pieces on the ground next to her.

  Eric nodded at the mess. “So could you.” He took another puff. “She was talking to my friend, right?”

  “You mean the shorter guy? Yes, she was with him.”

  “Blaine Stewart. He’s a good man. He’ll make sure she’s okay.” He shoved off the rail. “You need to leave b’fore this gets any worse.” He motioned to the street in front of the home. “Is your car over here?”

  “No. I walked. I live a few houses down, so I’ll go back the same way.” She stepped to the stairwell which led down to the beach.

  “Let me finish my smoke, and I’ll come with you.”

  Darla spun around and shot up a palm. “Oh no, that’s not necessary.”

  “Don’t get excited.” Eric grinned and gestured down the shore. “My home is that way too.” He picked up his drink. “Neither of us needs to get caught up in this shit.” He lifted her wineglass and held it out to her. “Don’t forget this.”

  Darla extended a hand for the glass. Their fingers grazed. She resisted the urge to tremble and wished for the courage not to care what he got caught in. She wanted to tell him she’d rather walk alone, which wasn’t true, although she needed it to be.

  “Do you think it’s okay if we take our drinks?”

  “Can’t see anyone will notice. Let’s move away from the line of fire.”

  He nudged her from the party’s tense atmosphere and to the side of the home, closer to the water. She relaxed against the banister, enjoying the secluded darker area. A salty fragrance filled the air as echoes of the breakers floated through the winds and a soft hum of waves synchronized with the final stages of dusk. Eric leaned on the rail next to her, his gaze fixated on her.

  Darla took a tiny sip of her wine, hoping he didn’t notice her hand shake. “Are these parties always this wild?”

  “Sometimes they’re worse. That usually brings in the rag mags. One of the reasons I want to get out of here. I’d prefer not to make the front page of the tabloids.”

  “What a treat.”

  He chuckled. “Been in news enough. Believe me, there’s no pleasure.”

  A chilly blast of wind lifted sand particles from the beach and stung her skin. Nevertheless, the coolness was refreshing. Darla’s nerves began to settle. Perhaps her new composure originated from the security of the darkness, the wine, or because of the nearby ocean’s gentle hush.

  Not that any of those factors overshadowed the vibrant presence of the man next to her. His nearness kept her senses on high alert. Yet, she was glad her nerves were no longer in knots, and a tiny part of her could enjoy the excitement of spending the evening with the gorgeous Eric Boyd.

  “I guess you have experienced some sensationalist journalism attacks. You were in a band, right?”

  “I was. Fame came sudden. Didn’t handle it well. I paid the price. I’ve done much better since we broke up. But there was a time my name seemed to be in the headlines every day. Vicious.”

  “Lots of lies, huh?”

  “Not exactly.” The dim reflection of light revealed a small curve of his mouth. “They’re vicious about the truth.”

  “Their type of reporting is so spiteful and malicious. I can’t imagine anyone respectable condoning that kind of work, much less publishing it.”

  “Yeah,” he said quietly. “But they do.” He tossed the smoldering butt over the edge, then found his shirt pocket again and removed the cigarette package and his lighter. He shook out another, placed the filter between his lips, and lit up. “I know it’s not my business but why were you at this party tonight?”

  “Long story.”

  She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to go there. Not this evening and not with him. The darkness prevented her from seeing his eyes although she sensed his gaze on her. He wouldn’t give her a pass on this.

  He picked up his glass and took a long drink. “It’s early, and I’ve got time.

  “To be honest, I’m beat. I didn’t sleep much last night. I want to finish my wine, head home, take a hot bath, and go to bed.”

  Eric grinned. “I like the sound of that,” he said in a low and easy voice.

  Darla’s knees buckled. She clutched the stem of her glass, almost tumbling to the ground. Was he flirting with her? She should flirt back. She wanted to, except her tongue retied itself.

  She coughed before finding her vocal cords again. “I’m making this short because I am tired. I was with a guy for several years. We were getting serious, but his affluent family convinced him, and by convinced I mean they held his trust fund over his head, to dump me and get engaged to someone within their social circle. That was two months ago. They’re getting married this evening.”

  “At least it explains why you were a stray tonight.”

  “Right.” She took a ragged breath of air, loving the fact her new prospective object of affection clearly believed she didn’t belong in his world despite her crappy circumstances. “My friend Stephanie heard about this party earlier today. She suggested we come here to meet some different people, so we’re checking things out.”

  Neither spoke. The silence amplified by a sudden wind gust. Foggy clouds trailed a cold current of air, rolling overhead to blanket the night sky. A faint boom rumbled in the distance.

  Darla hugged her middle with her free arm and eyed the rotating swirls above. “Looks like we might have some bad weather blowing in.”

  “You probably should try another kind of party to meet people.”

  “Sure, wait, what?” Her interest returned to Eric. “Why should I find a different type of party? You didn’t seem to be having any problems.”

  “Yeah, but that’s the kind of crowd I hang with.”

  Two women wearing micro bikinis strolled past them. Each flashed a sexy grin at Eric before they giggled and hurried downstairs toward the beach.

  “Naked females are the kind of crowd you hang with?”

  Eric laughed. “I go a little wild when I get out. I’ve been a bit repressed over the years.”

  Darla rocked back on her feet. “You sure don’t act suppressed to me.”

  “My former manager was something of a dictator. A long story in itself but we, my band mates and me, were prisoners of our success for many years. Now the guy’s no longer a part of our lives. We’ve gone kinda crazy from the freedom.”

  “I did read once you guys were squeaky clean types.” Darla grinned and pointed to his glass. “You only drink milk, right?”

  He laughed again. “There might’ve been a few lies printed about us.” Thunder rolled, closer. Eric looked up. “You called it. We are in for some nasty weather. We should get going.” He tossed his cigarette over the side. “Ready?”

  Darla headed toward the stairs, her hand slid along the rail.

  Eric shadowed her close behind. “What do you do for a living?”

  “I teach geology at a local college while I work on my PhD.”

  “Ah, smart girl.”

  They were almost to the bottom when the lights from inside the house flickered like before. A thunderous blast boomed and shook
the staircase where they stood. The discharge was reminiscent of the fake gunshot earlier. Then the place became dark again.

  “What th—” Eric twisted around.

  Darla flinched and cranked her neck too.

  Flashes of lighters and cell phone lights made the area murky. A rush of guests exited one more time. Screams followed by a large amount of swearing echoed above running footsteps. Darla and Eric dodged and ducked to evade getting trampled by the charging masses as the mob fought to make their escape. People then disappeared in every direction.

  Darla raised her voice over the noise “Looks like the party is over.” She looked around. “I wonder what happened now.”

  A faint resonance of sirens screamed in the distance. Those pesky anxieties returned as tiny chills peppered her neck.

  Eric mounted two steps then glanced back at her. “I don’t think we want to hang around to find out.” He climbed down and touched her arm lightly. “Let’s go.”

  Shrieks continued to rise from the darkness. “Stop him,” a voice yelled.

  “Don’t let him get away,” someone else cried.

  Heavy strides pounded across the wooden planks. Darla spun halfway around. A shadowed blur smacked into her and shoved her onto the staircase support. The shaded figure hit the ground and sprinted underneath the deck.

  “Hey,” Eric shouted. “Watch where you’re going, fucker.” His hand slid across her back and drew her against him. He gently straightened her and stroked her arm. “You okay?”

  Darla caught her breath and nodded. “He startled me but I’m fine.”

  Groups of partiers dashed from the darkness. A rev of an engine echoed, as the headlight of a motorcycle whizzed from beneath. The cluster of people scattered as the bike penetrated the circle, drove up the beach’s incline, and disappeared into the night.

  Eric turned to a bystander and tapped him on the shoulder. “What happened in there?”

  “The gunshot was genuine this time.” The man pointed at the elevated dust made by the departed bike. “He had a gun. And he didn’t miss. He just killed someone.”