Echoes in the Wind

by Debra Jupe

  “My family advised the same thing,” Blaine agreed. “They’ll be disappointed in me too.”

  “Damn, I wish we had listened. When Dugan was still our manager, we may have had some options. Now I’m not so sure.” Eric lifted his shoulders. “We’re just aware.”

  “I’m holding out we’re wrong. Maybe Finn’s confused about what he spent.”

  Eric gave him a doubtful look. “As long as you’re not holdin’ your breath.” He nodded toward the file in front of him. “From the way those papers read, we’re fucked.”

  Blaine began to pace. “Yeah. I guess Finn going through cash like water is a good thing, or it might have been months, even years before we made this discovery.”

  “We can go over this stuff more thoroughly tomorrow. See what we find. I’m hoping there’s a legal loophole which will give us a way to recover our losses without having to hire a shitload of attorneys we can’t afford.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Although I’m betting these contracts are airtight. More than likely we will need to go to court, and we stand a chance of losing. We’d end up spending the money we have left on lawyer fees and get nothing.”

  “You’re forgetting something else.” Blaine stopped wandering. “Eric.” He directed a worried glance toward the closed binder lying on the bed. “We’ve funded this new band with our own money. We’ve footed the bill for everything. Studio time, producing, marketing, you name it, the costs has been on us. We’re only in the beginning stages, so we’re hardly in a place where we’re gonna be earning our investment back anytime soon. If all the money we have is in that one account, we’ll need to keep every penny to live on. We’re going to have to put this venture on hold.”

  Eric scowled as he considered what Blaine told him. Each word made perfect sense in his head, yet his gut yelled no. He wouldn’t surrender his goal easily. One he so desired to reach. “We’ll find other ways to raise funds.”

  “How? We tried to regroup after Finn quit and we canned Dugan. No one would touch us, although I’m sure the exposure of Dugan’s activities may have something to do with that. We were a teen band. We’re like poison in the legitimate rock world. The negativity and rejection disillusioned Drake and Mitchell so much they retired from the business to do other things. We’re lucky Shane is around to manage us, though I dunno how long we’ll be able to afford to keep him.”

  “There has to be a way. We’ve worked too damn hard, Blaine. Money aside, you and I are literally crawling out of the depths of teen idol hell, and are working into the ranges of respectability. I don’t want to throw that away or let this dream die.”

  “Yeah, but we’ve been quiet about our newer happenings. People are starting to hear our later stuff, especially in the UK, although no one has an idea it’s us. We must maintain our anonymity for continued success, at least for the time being. Any rumblings from our camp will kill us professionally. Your idea to keep our presences out of the new band was great and helped us acquire many new fans. But even if our songs are good now, we can’t risk being discovered, and asking someone to bank us could bring us down. The music world may be massive, but it’s a small one too. People talk. Word surely will get out and sink us again. Our time and money would be wasted.”

  “We’ve got to work at something, for something. I’m not gonna quit, Blaine. I’m going to find Dugan Holt. He has our money and I’m getting every cent back.”

  “I hope you do,” Blaine said as he left the room. “I hope you find him before he finishes off any more of us.”

  Eric stared at the door. His mind whirled over the chaos from the last few hours. He slipped off the bed to put his folder back in his closet, and then stomped into the bathroom. He stretched inside the tub and twisted the knob. Water spurted from the showerhead. He quickly undressed, leaving his clothes in a heap beside the sink before he stepped into the bathtub and yanked the curtain. After a long, cool shower, he swiped up the towel he’d thrown earlier, dried, and dropped it back onto the floor.

  Naked and exhausted, he walked into his room, then fell onto his bed. With his mind in a constant churn, sleep wasn’t going to come. For the first time in a while, he wished for a dose of the barbiturates Dugan use to give him regularly. The pills didn’t necessarily let him rest as much as they numbed him. Right now he needed not to feel.

  Because of his past addictions, he refused to take the risk. Strong sleep medications, even the over-the-counter kind would never pass across his lips again. Not only did his physical strength depend on him staying clean, but also his psychological concentration needed him to keep his head clear. There was one other thing that helped him relax.

  Sex.

  Once more he fought the mental picture of Darla. He rejected going back to that place. He pulled a sheet over him, closed his tired eyes, and willed his attention in the direction of sleep. Neither his mind nor body obliged. Reflections of her materialized, then transformed into sexual fantasies. He became restless, excited with urges impossible to overlook. He wanted to see her, touch her, and to kiss her. He wanted her.

  He tossed the covers away and rolled off the bed. He had to get this woman out of his system. A quick glance at the clock told him daybreak would be approaching soon. Too late to go to her or too early depending on how she’d view things. Besides, he didn’t mentally want to be with her. The rest of him was the problem, overruling his stupid head. An idea arose.

  He might be able to find another resolution. A substitute would do the trick, yes, a stand-in. His body wouldn’t know the difference. He was lucky enough to be acquainted with several ladies he could call on for this sort of occasion. They’d come to him even at this hour, no questions. These women would give him the physical relief he needed and politely leave after. A good romp with someone else may get Darla out of his thoughts. Help form a detachment from her.

  He took several long strides across the room to find his phone. His foot tapped an object on the floor. The thing skidded over the aged hardwood and stopped against his dresser. He frowned as he walked to where the entity lay. His song writing tablet.

  He bent to pick it up and reread the words of a sweet, innocent girl with haunting dark eyes. Forcefully, he flung the pad through the air. It hit the window and dropped to the floor with a loud plop. The early stages of dawn filtered through the exposed glass. The light molded an odd but beautiful radiance over the pad, as if this were a sign. The words he’d written were his promises to her, penned for her from the depths of his heart.

  He commanded himself not to be so farfetched and fell onto his bed, sick of his over-analysis of a woman he most positively didn’t plan to see again. Palms pressed against his eye sockets, he realized no physical replacement would suffice tonight. So for now, he’d forget the idea of calling someone else. He grabbed the covers bringing them to his neck and closed his eyes. He tossed and turned for a short time, then fatigue overcame him.

  A soft noise made him jerk his head up. Did he dream the knock or was someone tapping on his bedroom door?

  The rap occurred again. “Eric?” Blaine called quietly.

  Eric fell back against the pillows as he answered a tired, “Come in.”

  Blaine rushed inside and stood motionless in the middle of the room almost as if he was lost. Eric rose to his elbows not needing to ask if something else happened. Even in the dim light, his partner’s skin appeared pallid. Visibly shaken to the point of looking ill.

  A dark premonition overcame Eric. This bombshell Blaine was about to drop would have a permanent effect over the rest of their lives and they’d never be the same.

  Chapter 8

  “Stephanie.” Darla hurried inside barely shutting the back door before she remembered a killer may be lurking within the neighborhood. Backtracking, she rushed to the door and twisted the lock. After she was sure everything was secure, she sped through the house, stopping long enough to toss Shane’s jacket across the sofa, and then onto the spare bedroom to where her friend slept.

  Ste
phanie had decided to stay the night instead of driving home in the middle of the thunderstorm, and she was surely asleep by now. But it was necessary to rouse her to update her on this newest event while fresh in Darla’s mind. Besides, Stephanie would yank every strand of hair out of her head if she waited until morning to deliver this news. Plus, she needed to talk about it.

  She knocked on the door and opened it, surprised to find the light on and Stephanie leaning against a stack of pillows studying her phone. She tore her eyes away from the device as Darla entered the room. “You’re still up? You went to bed a long time ago.”

  Darla nodded. “I couldn’t sleep, so I stepped outdoors to get some air.”

  She eyed Darla and frowned. “Do you think it’s such a good idea to be outside alone at night after what happened several houses away, just a few hours ago? Especially when we believe the guy may live close by.”

  “I’m aware. But as you stated earlier, we’re nobodies within that circle. I doubt the assassin possesses a guest list nor would he care who was there.” She strayed closer to the bed. “After I gave the situation some thought, I tend to agree with Eric. Drake was a target and someone hired the killer to do the job. I’m not familiar with the profession, but from stories I’ve read a trained assassin’s goal is to go unnoticed. Blend in, so no one can identify them. Why wouldn’t he behave like a normal person and live in our neighborhood? Though this guy wore a space suit, which hardly fits the obscure description.”

  “True. But even in costume, he managed to cover his tracks well. He was capable of killing someone and slip in and out of a house full of people without anyone able to describe him. Perhaps he’s an introverted exhibitionist kind of killer.”

  “Whatever he is, he got the job done.”

  Stephanie’s cell beeped. She looked down at the screen and smiled.

  Darla’s brows dipped as she watched her friend. “You’re still on your phone at this time of night? Or morning. Are you addicted to the thing?”

  She chuckled, and glanced at Darla. “No. I’ve been talking to Blaine. Texting actually. Or we were. He had to take a phone call a while ago. Now I’m rereading our conversations.”

  Darla clenched her jaw while Stephanie clicked away on the miniature keyboard. Envy welled in her chest. She wished Eric had been interested enough to ask for her number. It’d be nice to be texting sweet nothings instead of enduring his carefree triviality.

  Stephanie sat back and motioned at the small screen. “We were talking about getting together tomorrow.” She giggled again. “Go out to dinner and do something after.”

  “How wonderful, Steph. I’m glad the number exchange is a success.”

  Darla lay across the end of the bed and played with a loose thread on the comforter. She shifted to her butt, unable to get comfortable.

  Stephanie’s gaze returned to phone. “We both love Polynesian food. Can you believe that?”

  “You’re like the same person.”

  Steph leaned forward and made a soft “hmmm” noise.

  “That sounds promising. What’s the discussion you’re reviewing now? Names of your children?”

  “No. Actually, I’m online checking Raging Impulse’s website. The person who keeps the page maintained does regular updates.”

  “Any more news about Drake’s death or their fugitive manager?”

  “Nothing on either, other than what we already know. Although the author does give a rundown of all of the members, past and present. I didn’t realize they’d been together for so many years.” She held out the cell. “You want a peek? The site has some interesting info on Eric’s background.”

  “I’m sure it does, but I’ll check it out tomorrow. Maybe. I think I need to get past wanting to know anything about him.”

  Darla rolled her shoulders and skimmed her tongue across her lips. She needed to reveal to her friend about Eric and their kiss. Several times she’d tried to say the words, except they caught in her throat. She couldn’t understand why informing Stephanie was difficult. This entire situation knocked her to the ground and she didn’t know what to do with these feelings. She craved her friend’s dose of commonsense and rationality so she could move on.

  “Something else happened. Here tonight.”

  Stephanie’s attention refocused to Darla. She gave her a worried stare. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “Yeah, I’ve shaken me up a little too.” She paused. “It’s like I’ve always thought of myself as a together person and—I don’t know.”

  “Tell me everything.” Stephanie gave Darla a meaningful look. “Whatever it is, I’ll support you. I may rip your hair out for doing something stupid, but I’ll be there for you in the end.”

  Darla gasped and shook her head violently. “I didn’t do anything bad.”

  “Then what?”

  “Eric Boyd. He showed up. Here.”

  Stephanie’s eyes widened. “Eric stopped by to see you? When?”

  “More like passing the house.”

  The memory of Eric’s kiss scorched her lips. She reached for an errant curl to wind the lock though her fingers as she dealt with another upsurge of sensations she had no clue how to deal with. A stitch of dread escalated over the mere idea of explaining the situation.

  She giggled nervously. “He walked by when I was outside.”

  Stephanie blinked several times and stared. “So he passed your place. Why is that weird? He lives a few houses down.”

  “He stopped.”

  “Well, you did just meet. It’s only polite. Are you tense around him?”

  Darla expelled a long flow of air. “Yeah, I’m jittery whenever he’s near. And I think he’s aware of what he does to me.”

  “Okay, so what’d he do to make you feel that way?”

  “He seemed a bit agitated.” Darla’s tone elevated.

  “Start from the beginning. Tell me the whole story.”

  Darla inhaled and explained the entire event, but stopped before the kiss.

  “He sounds upset, but that would make sense. He’s gone through a lot tonight.” She hesitated for a moment. “Did he think you have something going on with this Shane person? Romantically?”

  Darla took the edge of the comforter, drew it over her legs, and uneasily smoothed the cover across her lap with both hands. “I wondered that too.”

  “Maybe he was jealous.” Stephanie sounded mystified. “Are you sure nothing went on between the two of you?”

  “Shane and me?”

  “No dummy. You and Eric.”

  “I think I’d know if something happened with us.”

  Stephanie gave her a doubtful look.

  “Okay, in some situations I wouldn’t, but this time I do.” She stopped glanced downward before she raised her eyes and gazed at Stephanie. “He kissed me.” Heat prickled across her skin just from saying the words out loud.

  Stephanie’s face brightened as she sat up straighter. “Eric Boyd kissed you?”

  Darla nodded.

  She pointed a finger at Darla. “You tell me everything, and you tell me now.”

  “This is so unfair,” Stephanie cried when Darla finished her story. “You got to kiss Eric.”

  “Not in a romantic way or from some deep feelings he has for me. This stemmed from something else, Steph.”

  “So you’re saying the kiss wasn’t any good?”

  Darla opened her mouth to protest, but her vocal cords stiffened. She sighed, almost defeated. “No. Truthfully, even unexplainably, he was amazing. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  Stephanie waved a hand in front of her. “There you go. You wanted to leave the party the minute I suggested you meet the guy. You almost ran out of the house. Then you dump your wine on him and he walks you home. He comes back in the middle of the night and gives you a wonderful kiss.”

  “His behavior was probably rooted from some strange—phenomenon. Possibly the storm or the violent death of a friend caused him to act irrationally. Or maybe the
incident stemmed from pointless male competition with Shane. Who knows?”

  Stephanie barked a laugh, although it held no humor. She blinked hard at Darla. “I had a drink with Blaine and his former band mate made such an ass of himself, we barely exchanged names much less anything else. I walked here by myself, through a frickin’ thunderstorm. I didn’t even get a handshake out of the deal and you’re complaining about a wonderful kiss?”

  “Stephanie. You and Blaine are texting and are planning an evening. I’m sure you’ll get a lot more than a mocking kiss. Come on. Eric kissed me because he was only trying to establish territory. The whole thing could have been much better.” Darla released a huff.

  “Like you said, he’s from a different world, but that isn’t a factor.”

  “Now what are you talking about?”

  “Karma. Fate, chance whatever. I don’t believe in coincidences, Darla. You fought meeting Eric Boyd, yet somehow it happened.” Her voice quieted. “The guy entered your life for a reason.”

  “Now you sound like my mother with her beliefs in crazy hocus-pocus stuff.”

  “Think what you want, but your interactions with Mr. Eric Boyd are far from over.”

  Darla made a face as she shook her head. “I guarantee we’re done.”

  An unexpected tingle surged over her spine. She didn’t understand if the sensation was a foreshadow of Stephanie’s prediction or a rush of disappointment of never seeing Eric again.

  “When we met earlier, Shane told me of Eric’s interest, but he also warned me that Eric was only a one night kind of guy. He won’t hang around for an encore where women are concerned.”