Irresistible Refrain t-1

by Michelle Mankin

I could feel his eyes back on me. Boring into my soul from behind those dark lenses. I kept my own straight ahead. I didn’t move. My throat was tight.

  Don’t push me, I thought, please.

  He didn’t. “Ok,” he said softly. “I’ll tell her.” He was quiet for a moment as if he’d heard my silent plea, and I concentrated on breathing, needing every bit of that moment to compose myself. “I remember you used to go from sweet one minute to all-out sass the next.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.” His teasing tone lightened the mood considerably.

  “I still do.” I managed to look at him and his lips curved up. “It’s a woman’s prerogative.”

  “You’re unpredictable, Lace. That’s what makes you impossible to resist.” I could imagine the mischievous twinkle in his eyes behind those shades.

  “Yeah, right.” I looked away. I couldn’t hold onto his gaze. My gravelly voiced response was a dead giveaway how desperately I wanted to believe he meant those words. But he didn’t. He was just being Bryan, flattering and flirty, the guy I’d known and crushed on most of my life.

  I regretted making that suggestive quip earlier in the mezzanine. I couldn’t deal with this, the playful banter we’d used to do so well. The memories it brought back hurt too much. There was no room for flirting between us anymore.

  “I’m hungry.” I slapped my hands against my thighs and jumped abruptly to my feet. “I need popcorn. I saw a vendor on the way in. It smelled delicious.”

  “Still an addict, huh?” he asked falling into step beside me.

  I winced at his choice of words and glanced at him but his easy expression gave no indication that he’d meant anything deeper.

  I’m addicted to a lot of things that aren’t good for me.

  After we each got a bag, we strolled toward Beacon Hill where there were supposed to be some unique shops and restaurants.

  “Do you think there might be a vintage store around here?” I asked with enthusiasm I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  Bryan groaned. “Warning you now, I’m not up to one of your marathon shopping sprees.” He studied me for a moment. “Sixties fashion still your favorite?”

  “Yeah. Anything from then. The short skirts, the platform shoes, the hair and makeup, the music.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  I nodded, swallowing another blissful mouthful of salty buttery goodness. “How about you? You still a big Moto fan?”

  “I still ride whenever I get the chance.” He shrugged. “Not much time anymore though.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine…” I stopped as we turned the corner. An enchanting narrow cobblestone street lined with Federal Style row houses with red brick facades, black shuttered windows, and wrought iron gates stretched out in front of us. “Nice.”

  “One of the roadies is from around here.” Bryan threw his half eaten popcorn bag in the trash. “When he described the area, I thought it sounded like a cool place.”

  “Definitely,” I agreed.

  “You ever take any of those classes in fashion design?”

  I shook my head, regret pulling my lips down into a frown.

  “Why not?” he pressed while sliding out a crumpled cigarette pack from his jeans.

  I watched him tap out a cigarette and light up before responding. “It was just a dream.” I sighed, one among many that were never going to come true. No address of my own. No credit record. I could go on and on. But why? Excuses wouldn’t change reality.

  I crushed the empty popcorn bag, wiped my greasy hands on a napkin, and tossed everything into a trash can. The window display in the shop behind us had a mannequin wearing a fringed jacket and bell bottom jeans. “I’m going in here,” I informed him.

  A bell rang as I entered the tiny shop jam packed with racks and racks of colorful vintage clothing, hats and accessories hanging from pegs on the wall. Heavy incense saturated the musty air. By the time Bryan wandered in minutes later, cigarette extinguished, cap off, and sunglasses up on his head, I already had several things laid over my arm.

  “Is there someplace to sit?” he asked with an exaggerated sigh.

  “Sure,” the shop girl with blue dyed hair answered. “Over there.” She pointed to a small velvet tufted chair against the back wall.

  Bryan dropped down into the chair and scrubbed a quick hand through his already messy hair. The disarrayed look worked for him. I pulled a couple more dresses off the rack and when my eyes went back to him I saw that he was typing into his cell.

  “Dressing room?” I asked the shop girl.

  “Yeah.” She pointed to the velvet curtain behind Bryan’s chair.

  “Thanks,” I murmured and swept past Bryan and into the small two by two foot space. While changing, I heard her complimenting Bryan on his ink. He must have taken off his hoodie. I bet that’s not all she’s admiring, I thought as I shimmied into a lemon colored dress. I frowned when I realized how loose my usual size had become.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” the girl said to Bryan just as I stepped out. “Aren’t you the guitarist from Tempest?”

  Bryan nodded.

  “You’re playing at the Orpheum tonight.”

  “Yeah.” He tossed a sheepish look my way.

  “The show was sold out before I could get tickets. Could I get an autograph and picture with you?”

  “Sure.” Bryan posed with her while I took their picture with the girl’s cell. “What’s your name?” he asked as he signed a blank piece of cash register receipt.

  “Janie.”

  “Here you go, Janie,” he handed it back to her when he’d finished. “Would you do me a favor?”

  Janie nodded.

  “Use my cell and take a picture of Lace and me.”

  “Oh, no, Bry,” I protested. “I look terrible.” I covered the bruised side of my face with my hand.

  “Bullshit. You’re gorgeous as usual.” Bryan pulled my hand away and tucked me in front of him, wrapping both his arms around me. His chest against my back, enveloped in his heat, a wave of memories washed over me. He still smelled the same. Cigarettes were a new addition, one I was sure his mom disapproved of, but underneath was the same familiar spicy undertones of the cologne he’d always worn. I laid my hands on his inked arms and melted into the embrace.

  “You two make a beautiful couple,” Janie commented before she snapped the picture.

  If only…

  I stared at the picture when Janie handed the phone back to me. No way did I want Bryan to see it. The look of longing on my face was as obvious as it was pathetic. He didn’t want you Lace, not longer than one night anyway. Stop forgetting that.

  Bryan leaned over my shoulder. “Hey give me my phone back,” he insisted. “I wanna see the picture.”

  “Oops.” I slid my finger in a deliberate motion over the screen. “I accidently deleted it.”

  “You’re such a liar, Lace Lowell.”

  “Right back at ya… Bullet,” I returned airily before returning to the dressing room and snapping the curtain shut.

  After the third outfit I modeled, I noticed Bryan getting fidgety. He’d lasted a lot longer than I would have thought. I heard him mutter under his breath, “War owes me big time for this.”

  “Spending time today with me was all War’s idea, huh?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he replied hesitantly picking up on my vibe. “You know how he worries about you.”

  Even though I suspected as much, I felt a hot stab of disappointment burn inside my chest. Stupid, Lace, as if Bullet Jackson would chose to spend the day with me if War hadn’t put him up to it. He probably had scores of groupies lined up waiting for him to get them off back at the venue. I shouldn’t have let down my guard with him today. It was too easy though. It always had been. My feelings were always too near the surface with him. That was part of the problem.

  I punched my arms violently back inside the sleeves of my top and stabbed my legs into my jeans. When was I going to learn to stop reading more into Bry
an’s attention than there was?

  “You done in there?” His sudden question startled me.

  “Give me just one more minute.” I leaned my forehead against the cold glass of the mirror and closed my eyes tightly willing my emotions back under wraps.

  “Ok, but heads up. War just texted. I gave him the address earlier. He’s on his way over. Wants to grab something to eat with us before the show.”

  “Great.” I didn’t bother holding in a curse.

  “You’re not still pissed, are you?”

  “I hate being pushed around,” I grumbled, throwing open the curtain, dresses rehung and laying across my arm. War could be really bullheaded and possessive. Grandiose one time heart-warming gestures notwithstanding, the day to day getting along, the necessity of breathing room and compromise seemed to escape him.

  “He means well.” He stood and lazily stretched his arms over his head.

  “Really?” I snapped, mad at War, mad at myself that just a tiny glimpse of Bryan’s abdomen made my pulse leap, just plain all around mad. “He meant well accepting the deal memo from RCA without talking to me first, a deal that didn’t include me?”

  Bryan eyes widened, but he didn’t respond. I could feel his eyes on my back as I returned the clothes to Janie.

  “You didn’t want any of them?” Janie asked me with a puzzled look.

  I shook my head, even though it wasn’t true. I’d really liked the hot pink one with the geometric design, but I couldn’t afford it. I needed to be real careful with the money I had left. I probably shouldn’t have tortured myself by trying them on.

  After thanking Janie, I exited the shop. I heard Bryan’s footsteps right behind me.

  He immediately spun me around as soon as we were outside. “The way the whole thing went down with RCA was bullshit.”

  “It’s ok.” Only it wasn’t, not even close. War had been my boyfriend, Dizzy and Tempest my family. I’d depended on them and they’d left me behind. “Dizzy’s explained about all the pressure you guys were under. About all the other offers you’d already turned down because no one wanted a woman in the group.”

  “I told War not to accept that deal.” That part was news to me. His fingers tightened on my arms and his grey green eyes stared intently into mine. “But he was so sure that once we were signed he’d be able to convince RCA to give you one of your own.”

  “I know that now. But what’s done is done.” I buttoned up my jacket with sharp precise movements. “Like a lot of other things. It wasn’t meant to be. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “Yeah?” His gaze moved across my face as if he was working something out in his mind. “Well, I’m sure we all would’ve handled things differently in the past if we could.” His brow creased and his voice lowered to that intimate tone that never failed to make my insides quiver. “What happened to you, Lace? One minute you were with War and then Martin the next?”

  I shrugged. “I did what I had to do.” How dare he stand there judging me? What other option had there been? Martin had been my only play. I felt a sudden rush of anger. “That’s what girls like me usually do, right, Bry?” The emphasis I put on the abbreviated version of his name, made his eyes narrow. That was what his family called him. What I used to call him until after that night.

  “What the hell does that mean?” His eyes flared and he flicked the unlit cigarette he’d just pulled out to the ground before grabbing ahold of my shoulders. “You’re not a slut, Lace.” He looked perplexed as well as angry as he stared down at me.

  “I know that’s what you think. Why keep up the pretense?” I shrugged out of his grasp, stifling the urge to yell or even worse to cry. “I heard what you said to Dizzy after the night we slept together.” The old wound ripped right open, but I didn’t want to keep it covered anymore. It was time we got it all out, all raw and gaping.

  I heard the breath whoosh right out of him as if my words had knocked the air out of his lungs. So what if he was shocked that I’d finally brought it up after all this time. I turned away. It was good he knew I knew. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? But suddenly I couldn’t bear to hear the lie in his voice or see the pity in his eyes as he made up excuses for what he’d said.

  “Lace, listen.” He moved in front of me stopping my forward progress. I saw the regret on his face before a cold gust of wind whipped a strand of hair into my eyes. They watered instantly and I blinked, reaching up to pull it away, but he beat me to it. Under the spell of the tenderness I read in his gaze, I stood still as a statue while his fingertips skimmed my cheek and brushed it gently aside. “I didn’t...”

  “Hey you guys, ready for dinner?”

  War’s voice unraveled the spell. I turned to see a taxi had pulled up to the curb beside us. War was leaning out the window. I must have given him a blank stare.

  “What’s going on?” Looking confused his gaze slid over to Bryan. “You didn’t what?”

  7

  After the concert at the Orpheum, we were required to attend the meet and greet with Brutal Strength at the Mantra restaurant next door. Candles flickered, crystal glasses clinked together, and soft music played in the background as the band members from both groups mingled with the few Bostonian’s fortunate enough to get VIP passes.

  I’d been nursing a rum and Coke while trying to keep a low profile all evening. I definitely didn’t feel like talking to anyone, except for Lace. My stomach was a mess of acid churning holes after the bombshell she had detonated on me earlier. I yanked a fistful of hair through my fingers. All this time I thought it had been her that changed her mind. I never knew that she’d heard what I’d said. Words I didn’t fucking mean. This was so jacked. I needed to talk to her and explain, but I hadn’t been able to catch her alone.

  “Hey, Bullet.” A young woman heavy on the make-up brushed her breasts against my arm. Her nipples were clearly visible through the tight white t-shirt she wore. Oh, hell. I took a step back when just days earlier I would have been full steam ahead. But right now I had absolutely no interest.

  Confusion creasing her brow, the woman’s gaze zipped back across the crowded room. War tipped his shot glass in our direction. “War told me you’d take me to the bus,” she said her lips rounding into a pout.

  “Not tonight, babe.” I wasn’t pleased that War had sent this girl over like an appetizer to sample while Lace was watching. I wrapped my fingers around her wrists and extracted her arms from my waist. “Why don’t you go try Dizzy? I’d bet he wouldn’t mind giving you a tour.”

  “Fine,” she whispered.

  As she walked away, my gaze returned across the room to Lace, perched in War’s lap. Her beautiful whisky eyes connected with mine briefly before flitting away. I sighed, my chest burning with regret. No wonder her attitude had changed so dramatically toward me. At least she’d worn the dress, the pink one from the vintage shop. My attempt at a peace offering. Janie had helped me arrange delivery to the hotel. It looked wonderful on her. The fabric clung to her figure like it’d been made for her just as it had when she’d tried it on in the shop.

  Her wearing it tonight had to mean something. She could forgive me, couldn’t she?

  The long sleeves flared at the elbows and sitting as she was now the bottom hem lay just this side of decency. Where War’s hand rested on the bared skin of her leg though way, way up on her thigh beneath the hem of her dress wasn’t decent. It was crass. It sent the wrong message about the kind of woman Lace was. I could tell by her downcast expression that it was only reinforcing this new low opinion she held of herself. I was sure now that I shouldered some of the blame for that, but dammit, War was treating her like one of the groupies.

  He shifted in front of her blocking my view.

  Access denied.

  If I hadn’t panicked that night, if I hadn’t made that stupid comment to Dizzy, could it have been us together right now, her eyes shining up at me, her face tilted up to mine?

  I should let it go, let her go, but that�
�s what I had done two years ago and I didn’t know if I had it in me to do again, even for War.

  I swallowed and moved to stare out the windows, gaze unfocused, as my mind rewound to high school to that day when Lace first walked back into my life again, no longer a child but a beautiful woman, one that turned out to be far beyond my reach.

  4 years ago

  “Bryan Jackson!” Hearing my name, I slammed my locker closed and turned around. “Dizzy.” I grinned, dropped my back pack on the tile, and clapped my old friend on the back.

  “Since when did you start going to Roosevelt High?” he asked.

  “As of today. My mom just finished nursing school. She got a job at Seattle General. We moved into the Grammercy Apartments on Rosedale”

  “Nice.”

  “How’ve things been since you moved out? You still living with your uncle?”

  “Yeah. It’s ok. I guess.” Dizzy fell into step beside me like we’d never been parted as we headed out of the building. “Sure as hell better than it was living with her.”

  “How’s Lace?” I asked, pushing the bar to open the heavy outside door.

  “I don’t know. She kinda goes her own way now, and I go mine. She’s gotten a huge attitude, though,” he muttered, zipping up his hoodie. “Her head’s so big it practically needs its own zip code.”

  “I can see that happening. She sure used to have a thing for hogging center stage,” I quipped.

  “You don’t know the half of it. You should come by. See for yourself,” Dizzy said with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle. “I need to get to work, but why don’t you come by later, around nine? My uncle works the nightshift and a group of us usually hang out in the garage. I’ve got a used amp and a Fender I’d like to show you. It doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “No shit. You any good?”

  He shrugged. “I’m working on it.”

  “I sure as hell would like to try out your Fender.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I have a beat up Epiphone I could bring over.”

  “Sounds great. And if you need an amp, I could hook you up with one.”

  “Cool.” I adjusted the strap on my back pack. “You mind if I bring a friend? He actually sings pretty good.”