by L. B. Dunbar
Unfortunately, so did I.
I shouldn’t have felt that way. Lansing Lotte was totally off limits to me, but I liked him. He was boy-next door good looking, with dimples that made parentheses around his mouth, and those bright blue eyes. His body knew how to hold clothes and he constantly looked like an Abercrombie model. But most of all, he was nice to me; a true hero in many ways.
I knew better than to get sucked in by a rock star, but he was so kind to Fleur and me. Oh my gosh, with Fleur he was a dream come true. He was sweet with her, despite his profession of not knowing what to do with children. And Fleur took to him so easily it was a reminder that she didn’t have any recollection of a male figure in her life. She didn’t remember my father or her own. Not that I would have expected her to remember her own father. He hadn’t bothered to remember her.
Josh Tucker had been your typical rock star: sexy, thin, and sly. He knew how to charm, and charm me he did. I was only seventeen when I met him. My father was working a shift for White Cross and I was given a ticket to attend the concert. I wasn’t really into the metal-turned-pop-culture band, but I had roped my father into squeezing out another ticket and I took my best friend at the time, Jenn. We were backstage and I had been ogling the warm-up band. They were closer to our age and a bit unheard of at the time. So cute. My exact words that night. He’s so cute.
In my typical loud mouth fashion, he’d heard me say it and caught me staring at him. I burst into laughter and he winked at me before following his band to the stage. Jenn and I rocked out on the side in the designated area for pass holders. When the warm-up band was done they passed our section to squeals and attempted hugs. I was trying to catch the eye of Josh Tucker again, which I knew was a ridiculous plan.
When I was pointed at by a bodyguard that wasn’t my father, I thought it was only because he recognized me, but when he called me over, I pulled Jenn with me. I was stopped by a large hand.
“Only you,” the huge man said.
“I’m not going without my friend,” I said, tucking Jenn’s hand under my arm and holding tight. He eyed us both for a moment.
“Fine.” He nodded toward the hall to the left.
I’d been backstage plenty of times, in plenty of places, but the Underground Arena was like a second home to me. I wandered the backstage halls tugging Jenn behind me as we giggled like the teenagers we were. I was almost to the room that I knew held the warm-up bands, when I was stopped by another cute guy, with blond hair sweeping his forehead and dark brown eyes the color of a chocolate bar. He was the lead singer for an up-and-coming band, which I learned was named the Dark Agents. He smiled with a hint of innocence, but he screamed arrogance underneath the dimpled façade.
“Hello, ladies,” he said seductively, with a slight crack to his voice. I recognized him, but I didn’t know his name. He slipped an arm over my head backing me into the wall, ignoring Jenn holding my hand.
“What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked, eying my chest as it heaved from the exertion of running down the hall and laughing too much.
“Lila,” I replied innocently as I noticed his lips. They were moist looking and I was a bit grossed out by that. He smiled when he caught me looking and licked his lips in a way that was too exaggerated. Jenn had broken the hold on my hand. I had a full body press against me as I was backed into the wall. Those wet lips were close to my face and I blinked several times. I felt his young excitement press into a body part only I had discovered. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so silly anymore. I was getting nervous that he was going to continue to dry hump me in the hall for all to see, then drag me off to further have his way with me. I tried to find Jenn over his shoulder, but he body blocked my view of anything but him.
When I turned my head the other way, his over-wet lips slammed into mine. I didn’t like it, not one bit. I held my mouth still as he continued to work over me and press into my body. My hands came up to his chest and I pushed gently at first, but eventually with more force. I tried to move my head, but it was pinned against the wall with the pressure of his face on mine. I could feel the ridges of the painted cement block on my skull. The assault didn’t last long, but it felt like time had stilled until his lips were ripped from mine. We actually made a suction sound as the pressure released.
I blinked several times, tears stinging my eyes. Another young face was directed at me. Stern, with a bit of disappointment, he saw me in that precarious position, pinned to the wall.
Josh Tucker.
“S’up Josh,” my assailant said with a head nod.
“Coming to get my girl,” Josh answered, a demand in his tone. I smiled falsely at his words as I used a shaky hand to wipe away the feel of the singer’s mouth on mine.
“So take her,” the lead singer nodded at Jenn. He obviously misunderstood, or I did, and my smile slipped a little.
“Not her,” he said, slipping an arm around Jenn. “Her,” he said pointing at me. I bit my lower lip and I saw a sparkle hit his blue eyes. He smiled slowly on one side of his mouth and I reached for Josh. He tugged me so hard I fell into his chest. He kept an arm around Jenn and escorted us both in the opposite direction of the greenroom. I hadn’t known it yet, but I had just been saved from a notorious scandal with someone carving a reputation for kidnapping and abusing women. Josh Tucker had been my hero that night.
It had been almost two months since Arturo’s disappearance. Fall was in full force with the color change of leaves and the cool drop in temperature. New York City was abuzz with Halloween decorations, but the hint of the holidays was overshadowing the season, a bit. We would have been halfway around the world ourselves at that time, if we had been in concert. I wasn’t even sure what city we would have been in, but it would have been in Europe somewhere.
Instead we were planning a trip upstate. Perk wanted to take Hollister to meet his mother and his sister, Raine. I agreed to go, but I wasn’t altogether thrilled about the visit. I had invited Lila, but she declined saying she had school and Fleur had pre-school.
I dreaded seeing Vivian. I felt I’d just visited her during the summer, when we travelled to Arturo’s home in upper New York for some rest, relaxation, and regrouping before our scheduled tour. Who knew that trip would result in my undoing with Elaine, the birth of Guinie and Arturo’s relationship, and the motivation for a third major album. It was there that sparked Arturo to begin writing lyrics. Well, it was actually his feelings for Guinevere that sparked ten of thirteen songs for an album.
I declined a ride with Perk and Hollister, stating I needed my own wheels in order to escape my mother, if need be. Perk laughed, but he knew the truth. Vivian DuLac wasn’t really my mother.
When I was three, my parents took a trip to upstate New York. They were young and in love, but supposedly on the run from a set of their parents who disapproved of the young marriage. My father, Ben Wicke, came from a wealthy family, who owned a construction company and worked at acquiring property. Not quite on the scale of Arturo’s father, who owned the Pendragon Empire, a multi-billion dollar realty group, but still largely profitable. My mother, on the other hand, was not someone my grandparents approved of and the young couple eloped when she was pregnant. They lived a carefree life, until that fateful vacation to the north, so I was told later.
They were camping on Lake Avalon at a local camp resort when they left me unattended, or at least that’s what I was told. I don’t know if I wandered off, or if they truly were negligent, but I was found by another woman. Vivian DuLac. In truth, I was kidnapped by her. Raised to believe I was her son, without a father present, I never questioned my fairy-like mother. She was eccentric and earthy, but kind and fair. She allowed me to learn the guitar when I asked and provided an open home for practice. The one thing she refused was any trips to New York City until I was sixteen. It was then that I earned of the mysterious scholarship and was allowed to move to the city to live with Ingrid Tintagel. While Arturo and Perk attended college, I went to the Performing Arts Academy.<
br />
I was thinking of those things when I drove the winding road around Lake Avalon. In the unseen distance to the west was Camlann, Arturo’s family home. On the north end of the lake was Ingrid’s, but also on this lake was the home of Elaine: the refurbished estate of the Corbin’s. That would be my destination tomorrow evening, after a brief visit with my mother.
Elaine had called me, after weeks of no contact that I took the blame for, and asked me to attend her annual Halloween masquerade party. It was a must-attend, society party full of political powers, religious leaders, and talented entertainers from the New York area. Being as I was from Lake Avalon, Elaine included many of her long-standing local friends, too. I knew that Guinie had been invited and Layne Ascolat convinced her to attend. The two girls would be staying at Ingrid’s, despite Ingrid’s sudden dash to Europe.
Elaine had an ulterior motive for my invitation, though. She said she had to talk to me and it must be in person. I was already over my head, questioning how to let Layne go, and my feelings for Guinevere, plus I had Lila living in my home. Then, Elaine wanted to speak with me. I was a mess. To top it off, I had to face Vivian.
As I pulled up to the small home surrounded by flowers and decorated with wind chimes, wrought-iron outdoor ornaments, and hanging fall plants; I took a deep sigh. I blamed Vivian for everything. My parents searched for me, as I’m told. They returned to the city and my grandparents forgave them immediately when they learned they had a grandson, who was now missing. I’m assuming task forces were sent to scour the Lake district, but I don’t know how well they could have searched and not found the small home on the very edge of the lake. It might have been a bit hidden from the road, but not from the lakeside. Apparently, my father had a heart attack, despite his youth, at the stress of my loss. I’d like to selfishly think he died of a broken heart. He’d lost his son, literally. My mother, on the other hand, couldn’t have been a strong woman, and she had a nervous breakdown. She’d lost her son, and her husband, and eventually she lost her mind.
But Vivian was of sound mind when she took me to be her child. How could I forgive her one might think? I didn’t know any better. It wasn’t until I was eighteen that I learned the truth of my history.
I exited my sports car, a good substitute for the loss of my bike. I didn’t have the will to replace that powerful machine and the white Camaro with a red strip was a testament to the thrill of speed I craved from my bike. I walked up the short gravel drive to the low front porch. Inside I heard music playing as I entered the smallish cottage. I found Vivian swaying to some older music as she stood at the kitchen sink. She didn’t hear me as I approached and she continued to wash the dishes, lost in her music.
“Hello Vivian,” I said behind her.
Suds splashed her as she dropped the dish into the soapy water and squealed in fright.
“Lansing, darling. You scared the daylights out of me,” she laughed placing a wet hand against her chest. She reached for me, but I stepped back.
It was habit on both our parts.
She was an affectionate mother, and I would return those hugs until I was eighteen. Then when I learned the truth, I couldn’t have her touch me anymore. She was a stranger to me, regardless of the label mother. Her hands dropped to her side in exasperation and she huffed a little as she returned to washing her dishes.
I wasn’t sure what to say next. That was how our relationship went. Awkward.
“How is Elaine?” Vivian broke the tension with her back still turned to me.
“I haven’t spoken to her, in a while,” I said, as I sat at the small two-person table. Vivian looked at me over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes. She nodded once and twisted her lips like she had something to say but was holding back.
“It will be quite a surprise to see her then,” Vivian spoke toward the sudsy sink.
“I’ve been seeing someone else,” I blurted, for some unknown reason.
“Who?” Her face brightened as she glanced at me briefly.
“Layne Ascolat.”
Vivian dropped another dish into the water causing soap to splash upward again.
“Oh, Lansing, do be careful.”
I pinched my eyebrows at her. Why did people keep warning me of that?
“What about the girl in your apartment?”
How could she know about her? Before my thought was finished, she continued as if she read my mind.
“This isn’t the back country. We still get news from New York, especially when it’s my son saving a child from a burning building.” She smiled at me over her shoulder.
I cringed at her reference to me being her son.
“I’m no hero,” I said, trailing the wood grain of the table with my finger tip.
“Yes, you are, darling. You saved that child, and I heard you saved her mother, too.”
“I did not save, Lila,” I said sharply.
“Aren’t they living with you now?”
“How do you know that?”
“I have my sources,” she giggled softly.
“Well, if you have spies then they would know I did not save Lila,” I snapped at her.
“Hhmm.”
“What does that mean?” My tone was growing in anger.
“You like this girl.”
High school all over again like Galehaut saying Guinie likes me.
“I do not,” I said, which was a lie. I did like Lila. Not in any particular way, but as a friend. She was good to look at, and I admit I had some troubling fantasy about being with her curvy body, but I shook it away. She was fun to have around. Her presence in the apartment was a welcome distraction from me and my issues.
“Maybe she’ll save you,” Vivian said quietly.
“I don’t think so,” I laughed.
She stopped washing and turned her body to face me. Her hip rested on the edge of the sink as she spoke.
“Again. I think you’ll be surprised.”
It was more than surprise I felt that Halloween; a night celebrated in some cultures where families remember their dead and worship them. In America, the night was a celebration, but in reality, it was a sad, scary night, as the dead were rumored to walk the land, haunting those they’d left behind. How true all that would be for me that night.
Shock started the night. Three women gathered together all dressed the same. They were the three Fates of Greek mythology. Not old and raggedly like the traditional witches, but sexy, sleek, and causing quite a stir as they were masked and gowned in fitted, draping black material. The only distinguishing feature was their hair. Two were rather similar in their chestnut coloring, while one was redder with kinky curls giving away Layne Ascolat.
It wasn’t Layne that attracted my attention first that night. It was Guinie. She’d cornered me inside the house, near the wide-open French doors. A chilly fall breeze blew in to cool the extreme warmth of the wall length fireplace that was ablaze like a bonfire. Guinie’s face was aglow behind the mask and her hair lit in the firelight. She looked otherworldly as I had heard Arturo label her.
“How could you?” she started.
“How could I what?”
“How could you finger fuck, Layne?”
If Guinevere DeGrance had hit me with a guitar, I would have been less shocked than the words that just crossed her mouth.
“Excuse me,” I exaggerated.
“Layne? You touched her.”
“That’s none of your business,” I snapped in my embarrassment.
“It is when Layne tells me.”
My mouth fell open.
“That’s right. She told me about the shower.”
If I ever blushed, it would have been then, but I was so angry my face could have turned red from the heat rising inside me.
“Why would she tell you that?”
“Because she wants me to know that you’re with her, but she thinks you’re in love with me.”
“I’m not with her, and why would she think I’m in love with you?”
> “She’s convinced you still harbor feelings for me from when we were in high school.”
“I…” I had to stop. I couldn’t lie. I did still have feelings for her.
“Lansing?” she said, her voice lowering from her anger a moment ago.
“I…” I swallowed hard as I watched Guinie’s masked face shake back and forth.
“I do. Have feelings for you.” I sighed, feeling like the weight of the world was lifted by letting those words out of me.
“You can’t,” she said softly.
“I can’t help myself,” I pleaded.
“You have to. You have Layne.”
“I don’t have Layne.”
“You can’t string her along, Lansing. She’s fragile.”
“She’s fine,” I hissed, “and I’m not stringing her along. She knows where we stand.”
“And where is that, Lansing?”
I turned in the direction of the voice just outside the open door. In the darkness, Layne blended with the black shimmer of the lake in the distance. Her gown blew with the wind like the ripples behind her.
“Layne? I…”
I didn’t have a chance to answer as she disappeared into the night.
If shock was the first Fate revealed that night, horror became the second as I chased after Layne. I had no idea where she could have gone in the dark surroundings of the Corbin property, but I knew I had to search for her. I ran out the French doors onto the stone patio and through an opening in the low garden wall to find Elaine pacing back and forth in the middle of the vast grassy property between the house and the lake. She was walking briskly back and forth, back and forth, and as I approached she appeared to be talking to herself.