Two Worlds Collided

by Karen Michelle Nutt

  Evie glanced at her brother, who was filming the rehearsal. This would be one of the videos loaded to the Internet in 2007. She was seeing history in the making.

  "I have something new I'd like to try," Bellamy said as he fished out a paper from his jean pocket and took a seat on the bench, next to Leon at the keyboard. "Maybe play with a few chords, see if we can give it life. What do you say?"

  Leon wore a dress shirt that he rolled up to his elbows. He took the papers Bellamy handed him and read through them before he glanced at Bellamy with a nod. "A ballad, maybe?"

  "Yes," Bellamy agreed. "Something with heart."

  She stared wide-eyed for a few seconds as she watched this scene unfold. She didn't remember Leon and Bellamy doing this. Had her brother stopped filming? She glanced his way, but he stood there with his camera aimed at Bellamy and Leon.

  Leon played a few notes on the piano and Bellamy hummed along. "Something a little higher," Bellamy said and Leon complied. "Yes, that is it. Good." They went on like that for a while with Bellamy humming a few bars, then making suggestions along with Leon's. Notes were added to the song pages. This is how they created so many number one hits. They worked well together, playing off each other's enthusiasm.

  Her attention was drawn to Bellamy as he pulled his locks behind him and tied it back with a rubber band. He closed his eyes and his body moved with the music as he let it become a part of him. When he sang the first words, she felt a chill run down her spine. She sat up straighter in her seat. She didn't know this song. Never heard it before now. "Darkness is all around, closing in like an entity ready to pounce, but then I hear your voice. I feel your touch and all is right in the world once more." He hummed a few lines then sang, "Your laugh is like the stars. Your smile is like the sun. A word and I see things through your eyes and know the truth. Life is good through your eyes. Love is real, through your eyes…" Leon played the melody, the notes haunting as it filled the room. No one spoke, no one moved, then Bellamy sang the chorus one more time, "Darkness is all around…"

  When the song ended, the last note seemed to resonate long after Leon had finished playing them. Leon spared a glance her way. She noticed her brother's eyes were on her too. What were they looking at her for?

  "Well, shit," Bellamy said. "Is it that bad?"

  Leon laughed and the other band members were chortling and everyone was talking all at once.

  Leon clapped Bellamy on the shoulder. "Just the opposite. Damn, I like it." He pulled Bellamy into a hug, a guy hug, which consisted of ruffling his hair and back pounding in an affectionate way.

  "Let's take it from the top," Leon said. "Maury?" He looked to his brother, who had removed his shirt, his muscled arms and chest glistening with sweat. "See about adding drums, nothing loud until the chorus." He turned toward T.C. "Come in at the beginning and let's see how it sounds."

  "I have some ideas," T.C. said. He also swept his long black hair into a ponytail. He wore a black tank top, black shorts and army boots. The strap to his bass guitar was bright green with purple stripes.

  "I think the saxophone is good for this song," Clark offered his opinion. She noticed his T-shirt had a logo printed on the back of it when he turned around to retrieve his instrument. Improvise, Adapt, Overcome. The words were printed one on top of the other. Typical Clark.

  "I like where you're going with this," Bellamy nodded. As the band fiddled with the song and where each instrument should make itself known, Bellamy turned in his seat and glanced her way. He gave her the briefest of smiles. She gave him two thumbs up and his lips spread wider.

  They practiced long into the night. Long past her bedtime. When the band members and crew started filing out one by one, Bellamy asked her to stay.

  "Are you sure you're okay alone with him?" her brother asked at the door.

  "He's fine. I'll make sure he doesn't stay down here too long."

  Bryce looked like he wanted to say more. He glanced at Bellamy sitting at the keyboard. "Be careful. He's not known to be with one woman for very long." He gazed at her with undisguised concern.

  "I'm aware." She rolled her eyes. So that was what her brother was worried about, and not that she wouldn't be able to eventually usher Bellamy to his room so he could sleep. "Don't worry, I have no intentions of being another notch on his belt."

  Her brother chuckled and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Goodnight, Sis. See you in the morning."

  Evie let the door close behind her brother. Bellamy and she were the last ones there. She started back over to him but slowed her steps as she listened to the song. Bellamy's fingers lightly caressed the keys on the keyboard. He sang the melody with his rich deep tones. "She's like a beautiful butterfly, free and graceful. I want to see her fly. Fly higher and higher…"

  His eyes were closed as he became one with the music. "She should spread her wings and soar." His deep timber seemed to lure her closer. "Free, so free. She lifts my spirits. She's like a butterfly, free and graceful." He sang the chorus, "I want to see her fly. Fly higher and higher. Come fly with me. Come fly with me…" The song slowly came to an end with the last notes played on the keyboard.

  This was a song he'd written for his solo album that never would be officially released, but a decade later it had been leaked through the media. Someone had found a raw recording of it and loaded it to the Internet.

  He turned in his seat and found her. "Come sit by me," he said and scooted over on the bench. He reached for his cigarette, burning in the ashtray. His glass had vodka in it, his beverage of choice tonight, not water. She didn't have to taste it to know. It had been documented on one of the many biographies broadcasted on TV.

  She sat next to him, his body warm against hers. She liked the way he felt, maybe a little too much. It was one thing to be infatuated with the legend, but quite another thing to be up close and personal with the man. She liked him. Really liked this broken soul. He was funny and though he pretended to be crude at times, she understood the reasons why. It was a shield to keep people at arm's length, to keep them from seeing the turmoil roaring inside of him.

  "I hope you weren't bored out of your wits." He regarded her curiously as he puffed on the cigarette.

  "I enjoyed every minute. Thank you."

  "For what?" He balanced the cigarette between his lips and leaned his elbow on the flat plane of the keyboard, while with his other hand his fingers lightly caressed the keys with a slow melody.

  "For allowing me to be here tonight."

  His fingers went for the cigarette once more and with one final puff, he put it out in the ashtray. "I should probably be thanking you." He gave her a brief smile then changed the subject, leaving her to wonder what he meant. "Do you play?" He gestured toward the keyboard.

  "What? The keyboard?"

  He nodded.

  "No." She half chuckled. "Well, I do know how to play chopsticks. I'm quite good at it if I do say so myself."

  He sat up straight then. "Give it a whirl, Darlin'."

  "I couldn't," she said and shook her head.

  "Sure you can. We'll play the duet and I'll join in when you're ready." He kept gesturing toward the keyboard with his adorable, lopsided grin plastered to his face and she finally gave in.

  She started out slow then gained confidence as Bellamy's sure fingers joined in. She hadn't had so much fun in a long time. She dated of course, but she hadn't felt a connection with anyone and the relationships never lasted. It was as if their frequencies were off and they never managed to be in sync. Not that being with Bellamy tonight constituted as a date.

  She met Bellamy's gaze and laughed again when the little ditty came to an end.

  "My word," he said. "You are amazing."

  "I did warn you."

  "So you did." His gaze caressed her and he scooted closer, so close their lips were only inches apart. She wanted him to kiss her. God, she really, really wanted him to, but then his gaze left hers and she felt as though he'd severed the connection they'd be
en sharing all evening, leaving her feeling slightly off kilter. "It's late," he said, his voice seemed off, deeper, raspier. "You should go to bed," he told her and for some reason he wouldn't look at her.

  "You should also. It's been a long day for you."

  Though the rehearsal had gone on all night, food was brought in and placed on a banquet table so the crew could help themselves. She watched Bellamy. He drank heavily, smoked like he couldn't remember the last time he had a cigarette, but he picked at his food. Munched on nuts and grapes, but as for a full meal, he left his plate virtually untouched.

  She stared at his profile. Strong jaw, nice straight nose, and she wondered how he managed not to have it broken with so many fistfights he found himself in. However, his eyes were the telltale sign she was looking for. He was tired, the tender flesh darker than the rest of his complexion.

  "When was the last time you slept?" she asked, curious to know. He couldn't have slept last night, not much anyway with the condition she'd found him in this morning.

  Bellamy let out a sigh. "I haven't slept for ages."

  She believed him. He still mourned his father's death, he couldn't kick his cocaine habit, not that she thought he even wanted to, and he drank hard liquor like it was the next best thing to water.

  "You know sometimes when you talk to a friend, it helps," she offered.

  He gave her a sidelong glance. "Friends? Some call me friend, but it's difficult to know who really is one."

  She rested a hand on his. "I want to be your friend if you'll let me."

  He gave her a long searching look as if he were trying to judge for himself if he could trust her. "You really do, don't you?" he said, his voice raw with emotion and a bit of surprise. Then he broke down and told her, "I killed my father." His eyes held her prisoner, daring her to look away in disgust. "What do you think of that…friend?"

  Evie didn't move or say anything. She knew he hadn't really killed his father, not with his hands, but he blamed himself for his father's death all the same. She waited. If he had thought to scare her off, he was sorely mistaken.

  He must have finally come to the conclusion she wasn't going anywhere and continued, "I needed help. I was using, heavily," he added, and she wondered how much more he'd been using, than what she'd witnessed already. She thought this morning he'd been a mess, but perhaps that was only a glimpse of how bad off he'd been in the past.

  "I called my father, my strong sensible father. Mind you, he wasn't a tall man, but he was a fierce Romanian-born man, who you would want on your side." He glanced at her. "I don't mean fierce in the sense he was abusive. I mean he was strong of mind and purpose. I called him because I couldn't take the pressure anymore. The demand for the tours, the demand to write the next song better than the last, the demand to always be in tip-top form for all those fans… The media never lets up either." He scrubbed his hand over his face. "All of it was sucking the life out of me, but then there was this freak accident to put another nail in my coffin." He shook his head. "If you can believe it, I wasn't even high or drunk when it happened. I was at a baseball game with– it doesn't matter who I was with. A foul ball hit me in the head, knocked me out cold and I fell hard." He touched the back of his head. "I can't smell anything. I can't taste anything. It's like I'm shut off from the world." A small frown slipped across his face. "Believe me, I know others have it so much worse off than I do. It's not like I'm missing a leg or an arm. Right?" He paused as if looking for the right words. "You know something? I'd give up a limb for the chance to taste and smell again."

  She comprehended what he was saying, not because she understood what he was going through. She didn't. No one could know without experiencing it for themselves. However, she did understand the concept. "Scents are all around us," she said. "They can conjure a memory. They can comfort. They can arouse." She nudged him and gained a semblance of a smile.

  "I miss the smell of a woman. God, how I miss that the most." Then he gave her a curious look that she didn't quite understand, and it seemed he wasn't willing to share it with her either and glanced away.

  "So you called your father," she encouraged him to talk.

  "He lives…lived in Murrieta, it's a long drive from there to Malibu."

  She knew Bellamy had a home in Malibu. The tabloids spoke of the wild parties he held there.

  "He said he was coming to get me. I told him not to come. It was late. I should have never called him." He closed his eyes. "He didn't see the road construction sign. He missed it somehow and his car went over the side of the road, down a ravine. I told him not to come," he repeated.

  "He was your father. He loved you."

  Tears burned his eyes, but he blinked and turned away to hide them from her. "Yeah, look what loving me did to him. My mother can't even look at me when I go home to visit. She blames me. I blame myself."

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. She wanted to hug him but didn't know if she should. He turned toward her then, surprising her as he suddenly drew her close, his hands in her hair, his mouth hot and desperate on hers. She gripped his arms and kissed him too. He tasted of cigarettes, booze, and something more, something more primitive. God, what this man did to her senses and it proved difficult to ignore the hard hum of lust in her veins.

  He pulled away if only to allow them to breathe and her gaze snared with his and her pulse flickered and leaped at what she witnessed in his eyes. He wanted her. He wanted her to say yes, but the doors to the ballroom opened with the light from the lobby pouring in. The hotel crew strolled inside with carts. Apparently, they were there to clean the room. Bellamy let her go without voicing his desires.

  "I need to use the restroom," Evie said, in order for her to take a well-needed break and rethink where this was going between her and Bellamy. She told her brother she had no intentions of being just another woman Bellamy bedded, but how did she rein in her feelings for him? She wanted to be with him. She was an adult and knew sleeping with him wouldn't give her forever in his arms. The future was still so uncertain where Bellamy was concerned anyway. Could be for anyone, come to think of it. There were no guarantees. She could only be true to herself, live life to the fullest, and see what tomorrow brought her way.

  Bellamy didn't say anything as she rose and headed away, but she knew he watched her, heavy lidded with desire. She'd be lying if she didn't experience a little thrill inside of her in knowing he did.

  Chapter Eleven

  Burn for You

  What the hell was he doing? Bellamy scrubbed his face with his hands, inhaled deeply, and let it out again in a whoosh of frustration as he stared at Evie's easy sway of her hips as she headed for the lady's room. He reached for his glass and was disappointed to find it empty.

  You can't sleep with her, he reminded himself. It would be a big mistake. A huge mistake, and yet he couldn't stop himself from imagining how he'd take off every stitch of her clothes and lay her down on his bed, naked and willing as he pinned her beneath is hard, aching body… "Shit." He repositioned his pants.

  The sound of giggles drew his attention toward the two hotel employees. Both women were eyeing him as if he were a delectable treat. Maybe he could stop himself from taking Evie upstairs and fucking her senseless if he sabotaged it. He hated to do it this way, but he was weak. What could he say? His body knew what it wanted, and it wanted Emerson Violet Reid in a very, very, bad way. Better Miss Book Marm thought him a dick tonight then in the morning after he had his way with her. Tonight, he'd let her walk away with her pride intact.

  He rose from his seat and walked purposely toward the two women, who were clearing the dishes from the long table and dumping them into bins on a rollaway cart. They both smiled in unison at his approach. Both were pretty, young but not too young, thank God. One had dark hair and the other was blonde, though he'd bet she bleached it.

  "Ladies," he nodded and smiled, a smile he knew would charm them. It did. Both women giggled in delight. He put an arm around one girl and then waved t
he other one over to him so he could put his arm around her too. Perfect. It would do the trick, but there had to be one more thing to seal the deal. He waited patiently. He couldn't rush this.

  When Evie walked out of the restroom and glanced his way, he turned toward the blonde and gave a performance not to be missed. He kissed the woman with teeth and tongue, while his hands were on the verge of giving this whole scene an R rating. When he thought he'd given Evie enough of a show to send her hightailing it back to her room, he ended the caress. The blonde appeared a little unsteady, and he kept a sure hold on her until she could stand on her own.

  He turned away then and– "Holy Shit." He blanched in surprise. He expected Evie to be gone, not standing a foot away, staring him down as if she'd like to stake him. Why wasn't he able to figure out what made this woman tick? Shouldn't she be out the door by now? Why wasn't she?