Storm

by Mankin, Michelle

  “On behalf of the Dirt Dogs and Outside, I just want to say we’re really glad to have you here tonight. As you know, all the proceeds from ticket sales are being donated to HIV research. But enough of that. We’re here to party and rock hard. And our first band, Black Skulls, will help us get started right.”

  He stepped back and moved away as the band members filed onto the stage.

  The lead singer was hot with his inky black hair and piercing blue eyes. He went to center stage to claim his denim guitar. The Ryan Gosling lookalike drummer hopped onto his drum riser. The colossus that had a guitar strapped to his mammoth shoulder strode stage right. The Dark Knight bassist swooped left.

  The drummer took his seat, thrust his sticks into the air, clacked them three times, then brought them down. The lead singer stalled his blue gaze on my bestie. His fingers hovered above the frets of his Martin.

  But it was the guitarist beside him who strummed the scintillating opening chord. My gaze moved to him and my heart stopped. His hotter-than-hot brown eyes met mine, melting me into a puddle where I stood.

  Everything but him and the heat within his incredible eyes burned away.

  Lotus­

  “A CROWN AND Coke, easy on the Coke, if you know what I mean.” The Ryan Gosling lookalike drummer from the Black Skulls placed a twenty-dollar bill on the bar in front of me.

  “Got it.” From behind the counter, I refrained from rolling my eyes as I poured a double shot of Crown Royal in a plastic cup and added a splash of Coke for color.

  “Here you go. But you can keep your money.” I set his drink on the counter and picked up the cash, trying to return it. “Drinks are complimentary.”

  “It’s a tip, darlin’. You’re cute, and we’re having a private party with your friend. You should come.”

  “I’m working.” It had taken effort, but I’d managed to scrape my gooey body off the floor after having it melted by the guitarist in his band.

  “I can see that, but it’s winding down.” He gestured to the large space, like a convention hall, and he was right. What had once been packed by several hundred VIPs had whittled down to about thirty. Most were executive types, closing deals. No one had stepped up to the bar in a while.

  “You’re right,” I said. “But—”

  “Babe, c’mon. The band needs drinks. We’re VIPs. Bring us a couple of bottles of Cuervo. We’re in dressing room A.” He shoved my hand holding his twenty back at me.

  I frowned. The drummer might be cute in an I look like a famous actor kind of way, but his manners needed work.

  “Sure,” I said sweetly. “Just let me get permission from my boss to make a delivery.”

  “Your boss is out in the corridor talking to Journey.” He took a step back with his drink in his hand.

  “Who?” Puzzled, I frowned at him.

  “The guitarist in my band.” He shook his head. “The one you stared at the whole time we were performing.”

  My heart pounded fast as I remembered the colossus who’d taken the stage and destroyed my equilibrium.

  Journey, huh? So that’s his name. Wonder if that’s his real name or just a nickname.

  The fascination lingered . . . I hadn’t been able to put him out of my mind. He was the best-looking guy I’d ever seen, but there was something else, something almost familiar about him. It wasn’t only the audience Journey had captivated with his guitar.

  “They seem to be having a serious conversation.” The rude Ryan Gosling lookalike snapped his fingers at me, not appreciating my inattention. “But I’m sure they wouldn’t mind an interruption from a cute thing like you. Tequila.” He snapped again like I was his servant or a pet. “Now.”

  “Asshole,” I muttered under my breath, but I grabbed two Cuervo bottles by the necks.

  I was a dutiful employee and a good bartender. I’d been bartending steadily for a year, waitressing before that, long enough in both service industry jobs to know how to deal with entitled shits like this guy. I pasted on a neutral expression and followed him, but I squeezed the necks of the tequila, imagining his neck instead.

  A few of the Dirt Dogs were hanging out in the hall.

  “Hey, Lotus.” Ramon Martinez, the handsome Latino guitarist, lifted a finger and gave me a slow smile. That grin had dropped many a pair of panties back in the day—still would, truth be told. But nowadays he was only interested in one woman, his surfer girl.

  “Everything okay?” Lincoln asked, raking his blond hair out of his narrowed sea-blue eyes. The Dirt Dogs’ lead singer looked enough like Ash to be his biological brother rather than just his adopted cousin. He seemed to disapprove of my companion.

  Good to know I’m not the only one.

  “Yeah, I’m all right.” I lifted the bottles. “Just taking some booze that’s been requested to the Skulls’ dressing room.”

  “Not sure Ash would want you making a delivery like that alone.” Linc’s disapproving gaze narrowed more.

  “I’ll go with her.” Diesel Le, the ex pro surfer turned Dirt Dogs’ bassist, pushed away from the opposite wall where he’d been leaning and rapid texting. Probably sending a message to Hollie, his celebrity fiancée. Fanny’s sister was on location doing a film in Brazil.

  “Thanks, Diesel.” I lifted my chin in greeting.

  He stepped beside me. “No problem.”

  I followed the Black Skulls’ drummer, who led the way. He turned the corner just before the end of the hall, and I did too. He kept going, but unlike him, I stopped. Journey stood directly in front of me, talking to Ash. Both men turned their heads to look at me.

  My gaze and my suddenly mushy brain swept all but the one aside.

  Twice in one evening, looking at Journey made me dizzy and brought all my forward momentum to a complete halt. I took all of him in like I had from my vantage point in the pit. And even a second time, it took me a while.

  There was a lot of Journey to take in.

  He wore the same clothing he’d had on earlier—black muscle tee, silver wallet chain in a long loop over his muscular denim-clad thigh, and scuffed black boots. But somehow he seemed bigger now, more imposing than before.

  When his eyes locked on mine, my mouth went completely dry.

  “Hey, Ash,” Diesel said to his bandmate, placing his hand on my shoulder.

  The contact startled me. Not because his touch was unpleasant. I knew Diesel from the work I did, taking care of the plants at the studio and from bartending at the Deck Bar, which was the band’s favorite hangout.

  “Lotus got a request to deliver booze to the Skulls. That okay with you?”

  “Hell no,” Ash said, frowning at me. “Hold up, okay?”

  “Sure.” I nodded, and he returned his attention to Journey.

  “Think over what I said.” The creases at the outer edges of Ash’s eyes deepened. “You know it’s business, but I’m also speaking truth I believe in my heart.” He thumped his chest. He was in an OB tank and board shorts post-performance, his hair slicked back from a quick shower. Like Journey, his arms were pure muscle.

  “Respect that.” Journey lifted his chin. A light brown glossy curl that had been hanging over his right eye slid back over his ear. He had two piercings in the lobe on that side, a silver hoop and a plain stud.

  “You have my number.” Ash clapped Journey on the back. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

  Curious, I tilted my head. It seemed like they knew each other well.

  “Sounds good.” Journey pounded Ash’s back companionably.

  My stomach pitched as his speaking voice resonated deep within me. A rich baritone like his singing voice, it made my mind spiral round and round with hot, sensual thoughts I didn’t usually indulge in.

  “What exactly did the Skulls request?” Ash turned toward me, and so did Journey.

  Gosh, he’s pretty.

  “So, they, um . . .” I stammered, losing higher brain and speech function with him looking at me.

  “You look uns
teady,” Journey said low, stretching out his arm. Bracelets, a leather braided one and a chunky silver link one, dangled from his wrist. “Let me take those heavy bottles off your hands.”

  “What?” Dazed, I just stared. Every inch of the skin on his arm, from bulging bicep to thick wrist, was covered in colorful tattoos. Even his knuckles were tattooed.

  His sculpted lips slowly curved. “I’ll deliver that alcohol to the band for you.”

  I swallowed to moisten my throat. It’s hot in here. Isn’t it hot in here?

  Journey reached for and removed the bottles from my hands. His touch sent an electrical current straight up my arm.

  “Uh, thanks,” I managed to say, rocking where I stood, even though I wore my sensible work shoes.

  “You’re welcome, darlin’.” His voice rumbled in amusement, and his eyes twinkled. They were a rich brown with a sprinkle of vibrant green.

  “You ready to close down the VIP room?” Ash asked, and my gaze reluctantly shifted to him.

  “Yes, of course,” I said with a nod.

  “Good. I’m beat, and I’m sure you are too.” He threw his arm around me, and Diesel moved to my other side.

  Flanked by the Dirt Dogs, I retraced my previous steps, but somehow everything was different from before. Plus, I knew Journey was watching me. I could feel the intensity of his gaze, boring holes into my back between my shoulder blades.

  As we turned the corner, the intensity dissipated, and I managed a couple of easier breaths. At the event room, Ash pushed the door open, holding it for me. I stepped through.

  “Surprise!”

  “Happy birthday!”

  I startled as roadies and a couple of studio musicians I knew stepped forward. Linc and Ramon were in front of everyone, carrying a huge cake between them, the candles lit.

  I frowned at Ash. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

  “Wanted to. We appreciate you.” He grinned as he tucked an envelope into a pocket of my bartending apron. “Birthday bonus. There’s a little something extra in there from all the Dogs.”

  “Thank you.” My eyes brimmed with tears.

  I could really use that money. Rent was coming due, and it was always a stretch to come up with that large amount of cash each month in addition to everything else.

  “You’re welcome,” Ash said.

  “Make a wish,” Diesel said from beside me.

  “No Deck Bar mermaid here.” Ash’s blue eyes twinkled brightly. “But birthday mojo and candles oughta do the trick for any wish to come true.”

  I closed my eyes and made the same impossible wish I’d made for the last nine birthdays.

  I had other wishes, sure. Big ones. But I believed if Storm ever returned, my life would get better, and my other wishes would somehow come true too.

  Lotus

  I ATE CAKE with Ash and everyone. Afterward, I worked with the event coordinator to total up the alcohol receipts, then changed clothes in the employee locker room.

  As I did every year on my birthday, I tried and failed not to miss my father. He’d always done so many little things on my birthday—and every day—to make me feel loved, things that were so special to me.

  “Let it hurt. Then let it go. Only keep the good things.”

  My childhood friend was right. But those good things were few and far between without my dad.

  I had no one to share the hurt and letting-go process with anymore. Sophia was a good friend, a great one, but she wasn’t that type of friend. Maybe there weren’t many people like Storm. Maybe my memories had made a fantasy of our friendship.

  And though my brother shared my pain, he had a unique loss of his own to bear. I did my best to shield Cork from my pain and the responsibilities that came along with it. Those were mine to carry alone as a single guardian to my brother.

  Setting those thoughts aside, I undid my braid, put on my regular clothes, and stuffed the white shirt and black pants that made up my bartending uniform into an overflowing laundry cart. The other catering waitstaff had already departed.

  My cell rang. I grabbed it and glanced at the display. sophia calling.

  “Hey,” I said, my throat tight as I swiped the wetness from my cheeks and forced cheerfulness into my tone.

  “What’s up?”

  “That’s my question for you,” I said, deflecting. My sadness wasn’t changeable.

  “I’m with Reese, the lead singer of the Black Skulls.”

  “I know that. You texted me while I was working. But where are you now, and what are you doing?”

  “I’m still with the band. The drummer likes you.”

  I made a face. “That’s nice.” Not.

  “His name is Tristan.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t going to let her set me up with a guy I didn’t care for. “So, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Am I on speaker?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Good.” I exhaled. “Tristan’s an arrogant asshole.”

  “He’s a rock star, honey,” she said drolly. “They all are.”

  “Ash isn’t.”

  “You didn’t know him before.”

  “Before what?” I asked, confused.

  “Pre-Fanny.”

  “Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that.” I’d heard the talk about Ash and his many hookups before he fell in love with Fanny. “But I highly doubt he ever snapped his fingers at her.”

  “Tristan did that to you?”

  “Oh yeah,” I said, then heard shuffling and murmuring. She’d covered up her phone.

  “Tristan says he’s sorry.”

  I snorted. I doubt it.

  I walked out of the locker room, wearing shorts overalls and flip-flops, my oversized slouch bag slung over my shoulder. “I’m coming to you. We’re going out for my birthday, right?”

  “Technically, it’s not your birthday anymore.”

  I checked the time and sighed. She was right. It was past midnight. “You backing out of girl time in favor of dick?”

  “Change of plans. We’re going to the beach.”

  I perked up. I liked the beach. “With Tristan and Reese?”

  “With the band. Yes.”

  “I dunno.” I thought of Journey and my stomach flipped.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” I was starving. I hadn’t had anything to eat but cake since lunch, over twelve hours ago.

  “Thirsty?”

  “I could drink.”

  “Then head to the side door that leads to the parking lot.”

  “Where is it?” I stepped out into the hallway, which was completely deserted.

  “Just past the dressing rooms.”

  “Okay.”

  I walked faster, nervous about being inside the building all alone. At the end of the hall, I pushed the metal bar on the door. Outside was an old black sedan with a trailer attached to it. Sophia pushed away from the passenger door and moved toward me.

  “Hey, you,” she said with a smile.

  I breathed easier until she turned and opened the rear passenger door for me, revealing Tristan inside. He grinned up at me from the back seat.

  I frowned at my bestie. “Um . . . I’m not sure about this.”

  I really didn’t want to get in the car with the finger-snapping drummer. In my peripheral vision, I noted another vehicle pulling up behind the trailer, but I kept my attention on her.

  “It’ll be fun,” Sophia said. “Better than a bar crawl. There’ll be music. And Journey got food and beer.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder.

  I followed the direction of her gesture and gulped. The mind-scrambling guitarist was driving the vehicle that had pulled up behind the trailer. It was like an SUV, but it had no roof, just two thick roller bars. Interestingly, a surfboard hung over the tailgate.

  “Hey,” he said, lifting his bearded chin to acknowledge me.

  “Hey.” I lifted my chin in return, trying to function normally despite
how cute he looked with his colorful arms draped over the steering wheel.

  “It’s not like we’re gonna have an orgy, Lotus,” Sophia said, still attempting to convince me.

  I looked back to her, my cheeks warm from her comment, but more so because of Journey.

  “It’s casual. We’re just gonna hang. And you know, the guys can’t be all bad. Ash likes them, or he wouldn’t have given them a prime slot in the lineup.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “No expectations. If you have fun, we’ll stay. If not, we’ll take off, go back to the hotel, and do something different. Friends stick together. Okay?”

  “Sure,” I said, recognizing that the sticking-together part went both ways. She wanted to go, and I didn’t want to disappoint her.

  But my nerves were a mess. It wasn’t the guys in general that made me nervous. It was just one.

  “You wanna ride with me?” Journey asked, gesturing to the empty passenger seat beside him.

  My throat went dry. Tristan only irritated me, but Journey completely unnerved me. No guy had ever elicited the reaction he had. Not even Saber.

  Didn’t I owe it to myself to explore that? After all, wasn’t tonight supposed to be about trying new things and forgetting the boyfriend who’d been stringing me along?

  My mind made up, I moved toward Journey. “Sure, I’ll ride with you.”

  It was time to let loose.

  Lotus

  “LET ME GET that door for you.”

  Journey jogged around the black hood. His muscular body was like a Greek statue, only clothed and in motion. Looking at him seemed to make time slow while it also made my heart race. He was very much alive with warmth I could feel, and an enticing scent that eluded me in the outside air. His gaze swept over me as he opened the passenger door for me.

  “Thanks,” I murmured, unable to ignore the warm shiver his scan induced. I brushed against him climbing in. The shiver became a shake that made my legs tremble.

  “You’re welcome.” He closed the door and retraced his steps around the hood while I watched. His confident, ambling stride was a watch-worthy event.