by Shari Copell
The girl blinked slowly, like an owl. “I think you do, but that’s okay. I had a feeling you wouldn’t want to talk about it.” She looked away, closing her hand over the picks. “He gave me a message for you.”
The room began to spin in the oddest way. Shadows crowded the edge of her vision. Chelsea staggered to the bed and collapsed behind her daughter. “He did? What did he say?”
She heard Nicks gulp air. The girl hesitated, then turned toward her. “He said he’d wait for you.”
The cold washcloth on her mother’s head roused her briefly. Chelsea’s eyes opened, she stirred, then went right back out.
Nicks knew she’d catch hell from her father for upsetting her mother again, but she didn’t care. She wanted answers. Too bad she had no idea what the questions were.
An unknown man had placed picks in her hand in a dream, and she’d woken up to find herself holding the damned things. Such things didn’t happen to normal, sane people. Her mother’s reaction was equally bizarre and only made her more curious. What the hell was going on here?
“Mom. Mom, wake up.” She dabbed at Chelsea’s face with the washcloth.
Her mother moaned and caught her wrist. “You’re going to be late for school.”
“Too late.” Nicks grinned. “I am missing calculus as we speak. Not that I mind.”
“You’re going to school today, young lady, like it or not.” Chelsea pushed herself upright and fixed her daughter with a piercing stare. “Not one word of this to your father. Not about the picks, the dream, the message...nothing. Do you understand me?”
Nicks stared back with what she hoped was an equally firm gaze. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? I’m starting to wonder if this house is haunted.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Her mother pushed to her feet and headed for the door at warp speed. She glanced back one last time, her eyes full of apprehension. “And that makes two of us.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tage stared at Mr. Marius’s secretary Althea Powell and wished he’d stayed in bed. She resembled a troll living under a bridge and was just about as friendly.
“I hope you made an appointment to meet with Mr. Marius. No one gets in without an appointment.” She peered up at him with a pale blue left eye. The other eye took a hard right and stared off into space. Wild gray hair stood up all over her head, as though she’d used a leaf blower to dry it. A few teeth populated her gums¸ but not many. He thought she probably never ate corn-on-the-cob.
He wondered if he wanted to “get in” at all then felt the heft of the restraining orders he had in his inside jacket pocket. This had to be done today. They would haul him off to jail if Marius showed up at Tapestries later on that night.
“Yes, I do. Or I should. I called in two days ago, and someone gave me an appointment for 8:30 a.m. Friday. That’s today. Tage Sorenson.” He leaned over the edge of the desk and took a furtive look at her appointment schedule. I damn well better be on it.
She scowled and ran her finger down the green lines of the appointment book open on the desk in front of her. “I don’t see you here, Mr. Sorenson. Oh. Oh, wait. Yes, here you are. I was on the wrong day.” She giggled to herself. He got the sense she was messing with him. “Tage Sorenson. 8:30 a.m.”
She sat and stared at the name under her fingertip for so long he thought she’d gone into a trance. He cleared his throat. “It’s 8:35 right now. Is it possible for me to see him?”
Althea glared with one eye again. “Of course it’s possible. You have an appointment, don’t you?”
“I think we’ve established that I do.” He smiled indulgently.
“Well then, I’ll tell him you’re here.” She stood up and scurried down the hallway behind the desk. He heard a door open and close, then muffled voices. After a moment, Althea came back and pressed a button. The security door to his right buzzed and clicked open. “Follow me.”
He felt as though he were walking to his doom as he followed Althea down the narrow hallway. Did they ever tie anyone to a chair and interrogate them under these bright fluorescent lights? Tage loosened his tie a bit. If he—an adult—felt this way, what was this walk like for the kids who happened to run afoul of Althea the Troll and Mr. Marius? Had Nicks ever had to make the long walk back to this office?
The secretary stopped in front of a burgundy metal door. Tage dug his heels into the aging brown carpet to avoid running into her. The door had a window in it, but the pane had metal wires crisscrossing through the frosted glass. It did nothing to dispel the impression he was in a prison.
Althea peered up at him with a hideous parody of a smile then pushed the door open a crack and poked her head inside. “Mr. Sorenson to see you.”
A perfectly normal, human male voice wafted out into the hall. “Thank you, Miss Powell. Show him in.”
The secretary stepped to the side and waved him into the room. Marius didn’t sound like a tyrant. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Tage suddenly wondered if he’d knee-jerked where the restraining orders were concerned.
He stepped inside the room, took one look at the high school principal, and caught his breath. No. No, the restraining orders were not an over-reaction.
It was a flash-bulb moment in his head, but it gave Tage chills. He could picture Albert Marius dressed in full Nazi SS regalia, complete with monocle, leaning over a student tied to a chair with a syringe full of experimental, mind-melting drugs in his hand.
Marius stuck his hand out in greeting as Althea closed the door behind them. “Good morning, Mr. Sorenson. I am delighted to have the opportunity to speak with you.”
The innocuous gesture tore Tage from his musings and settled his nerves a bit. “Good morning, Mr. Marius. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Have a seat.” Marius gestured toward a burgundy leatherette chair in front of the oak-and-marble desk as he took a seat behind it.
Tage pulled the chair forward and sat down. “Thank you.”
“I assume you are here to discuss the deplorable behavior of your daughter Nicole. I have been trying desperately to bring her to heel these past couple of weeks, but she remains defiant. I am delighted that at least one of her parents has taken an interest in her slide toward delinquency.” Marius leaned forward, fingertips pressed together.
Startled, Tage sat up straight and pressed back into the chair. It’d only lasted a second, but the expression on the principal’s face had been hateful, almost predatory.
“I’m not sure we’re talking about the same Nicole. While I’ve gotten glimpses of the defiance, which I suspect is perfectly normal in an almost-nineteen-year-old girl, I haven’t witnessed the delinquency you speak of. Would you care to elaborate, Mr. Marius?” Tage leaned forward, both elbows propped on his knees.
It was Marius’s turn to pull back. The principal narrowed his eyes and studied him. Tage mentally grinned. Yes, Marius had a predatory air about him, enjoyed the power he had over those he deemed powerless. He clearly didn’t like being questioned.
Tage wondered how many parents rolled over and played dead in the face of such oppressive authority. No wonder Nicks had served the detentions without telling him about them. He might’ve done anything to keep this man off his back too.
“Surely you are aware that Nicole’s language is—”
“Is questionable at times and, as her father, makes me grit my teeth. No doubt about it. Surely you are aware that she’ll be nineteen years old soon? She’s an adult.”
“I do not...and will not...tolerate foul language within the four walls of this high school, Mr. Sorenson. As the principal, it’s my job to see that the student body adheres to the rules.”
“That’s a fine moral foundation for any principal to adhere to, and one I could enthusiastically support. Unfortunately, I’m aware that this last round of detentions you gave Nicks had nothing to do with her behavior within these four walls. Would you care to explain your reasoning behind giving her three detentions a week for the rest of
the school year for something she did off school property, on her own time, and in a bar that I own?”
Marius went white, at least as white as someone could when they were a shade somewhere between dead and zombie. He gurgled low in his throat. “That makes it all the more reprehensible. You heard the language she used and did nothing to curb it.”
Tage pushed to his feet and pointed a finger at the man. “That’s none of your business. She’s my daughter, not yours. Tapestries belongs to me. What happens within those four walls is my call.” Tage inhaled and tried to remain calm. “Three detentions a week for the rest of the school year would jeopardize her grades and put her in danger of failing. That’s not going to happen, not in this lifetime. For the most part, she’s a great kid. If she were misbehaving here at school, I could support this punishment. As it is, I will not stand by and allow you do this to her.”
Marius smiled thinly. “It’s not as though you have much choice in the matter. As the principal here, I am authorized—”
“You’re not authorized to punish her for things she does when she’s not here, and you know it. Frankly, your behavior gives me the creeps. What kind of authority figure goes to see a young woman play in a band at a bar owned by her parents then calls her a whore and punishes her for it?” Tage placed his knuckles on the desk and leaned forward. “I’m not sure why you’re so focused on her this year. I have my suspicions, and I hope to God I’m wrong. I’ll puke right here on your desk if I’m not.”
Marius turned purple and rose to his feet, fists clenched. “I called her no such thing. If Nicole told you that, it once again demonstrates her questionable relationship with the truth.”
So Marius was going to lie right to his face, was he? That told Tage all he needed to know about the man’s character. “Is that so? Did you know there were two other people in the library the night you called her a whore?”
A point-of-no-return seemed to have been reached where the principal was concerned. For one moment, Tage wondered if he’d gone too far. The man looked...homicidal. Apparently, there was more to Albert Marius than met the eye.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with, Mr. Sorenson,” Marius hissed.
“Apparently, I do.” Tage reached into his coat pocket and withdrew the restraining orders. He tossed them onto the calendar desk pad in front of Marius. “Two pieces of advice for you right there, nice and tidy and all legal-like in those packets. Nicks won’t be serving any more detentions this year. Stay away from my daughter and stay out of my bar, or I’ll have you arrested. I won’t say it twice.”
Nicks’s cell phone buzzed in her hoodie pocket just as she put her biology book on the shelf of her locker.
It was a text message from Stone. On my way. Wait for me in the parking lot.
She tapped out a reply. Lots to tell you. Can’t wait to see you.
She’d seen her father’s truck parked in front of the school that morning. Anxiety had drawn through the pit of her stomach. Her father could be overwhelming at times, and that was putting it mildly. He was right—the situation was out of control—but she didn’t think Marius would like having his authority questioned. She could picture the principal trashing his office, grabbing the carved walking stick he always carried, and hunting her down in the halls of Oakland High.
She’d been wary as she walked from class to class, but she hadn’t even so much as glimpsed the back of Marius’s suit. You couldn’t ask for a better Friday than that.
Nicks searched for Stone as she descended the steps down to the student parking lot. He wasn’t hard to spot. He...and his red Camaro...stood out among all the beaters and other piece-of-shit cars like a ruby stuck in the mud.
She slowed somewhat as she walked. What would he think if he knew she was a...Shit. Virgin was such a stupid, archaic word. It implied purity of thought as well as deed, and that sure as hell wasn’t her. She was capable of giving herself a flaming O in less than three minutes when she needed one. She had no compunction at all about sending her hands south of the border.
What would he think if he knew she’d never been with a man then? She was aware the façade she presented was tough and cocky. Impenetrable. He probably thought she had sexual experience in spades. What would he think if he knew she was unsure, confused, and occasionally scared shitless on the inside?
He doesn’t need to know that. It’s weakness. Weak people draw buzzards. I’ve had enough of that shit to last me a lifetime.
Still, she couldn’t help but think it. Would Stone be “The One”? She liked being around him. Okay, it was more than that. No man had ever gotten under her skin the way he had.
She knew she was a hard person to befriend. A really hard person to like. She had some issues, but nothing too damaging. Would he see the stuttering child she cradled tenderly inside her and love her anyway? Or did he want the sexy, mouthy rocker? Was he man enough to handle both?
She felt a quiver of excitement as she thought of what happened in her bedroom the night she’d shown him her guitars. Oh yeah, he’s man enough to handle both.
I want him to make love to me.
There it was. It required more thought though. A lot more. Sex was not something to be taken lightly. She wanted to be sure.
Stone leaned casually against the hood of his Camaro, arms crossed against his chest. Long legs wrapped in tight, faded jeans stretched out in front of him then crossed at the ankles. It had the odd effect of drawing her gaze upward, to the bulge that now seemed so much more prominent than before.
Stop it! You would hate it if he objectified you like that.
Her eyes didn’t seem to be listening to her conscience though. They wandered over his body at will, fueling the fire he’d started. He wasn’t a big man. Rock musicians were usually as thin as a willow switch. They never seemed to eat enough to counteract all the jumping around they did onstage. Even so, the definition of his pecs and ab muscles showed through the thin black Aerosmith T-shirt he wore. His tanned arms were well defined, relaxed against his abdomen. That dark wavy hair was the stuff of wet dreams, and those eyes... Hot damn, she could feel those sinful eyes touching her.
Amazed that she managed to reach him without tripping and falling on her face, Nicks allowed him to pull her into an embrace and kiss her on the cheek. He smelled incredible, always spicy and exotic.
“I can finally breathe,” he said. “I have you in my arms.”
“Stop it.” She tried to pull away, half-serious.
“Why?”
“Because you distract me when you say things like that. I have to get my game face on for tonight. Seriously. I’m not even kidding with you.” She tried to appear solemn but it was impossible to keep a straight face around him.
He pulled her close and ran his lips up and down her throat. He laughed when he felt her shiver. “Your body tells me something different.”
“See? There you go, saying those things after I asked you not to. We’ll have to stop seeing each other if you won’t listen to me.”
His fingers dug into her waist as he pushed her back a step. He seemed half mad. “That’s not funny. I can’t...my future has to have you in it. It’s not debatable.”
Oh, God. When he said things like that, she felt him...there. And there. And there.
Before she could think about what she was doing, one arm was around his waist, her fingers digging into the taut muscles that lay parallel to his spine. Her right hand brushed across his throat and under that silky hair to caress the back of his neck.
She was helpless right now. A soul-shattering kiss was inevitable.
They stared at one another, their mouths a scant millimeter apart. His lips moved, his voice coming from a million miles away. “I don’t want to distract you. I know how it is when you’re trying to get ready for a gig.”
“You asshole.” She was being sucked right straight into the center of that smoky gaze. “Don’t even think about not kissing me.”
“I was not not thinking about
kissing you. In fact, I was thinking about kissing you very, very hard. It’s all I can think about these days...”
“Oh my God, you talk way too much, Jensen.” She closed her eyes and pulled his mouth down to hers.
What was it about kissing him that seemed to make time stand still? How did he always manage to make sounds and smells and coherent thought grind to a halt when he touched her, until it was just the two of them locked together in a sizzle of sexual electricity? Stone Jensen’s hands not only made magic on the guitar, they made magic on her.
He pulled his mouth from hers with a groan. “Damn, Nicks. I want you so bad, but this is not the time or the place.”
“I know. I just wanted to taste you.”
He picked her up and whirled her around the parking lot. “The whole world seems better now that I know you. I go to sleep thinking about you. I wake up thinking about you. I’m completely out-to-lunch where you’re concerned.”
“You’re out-to-lunch all right. And put me down. I can’t wait to talk to you. I have so much to tell you tonight.”
He set her on her feet and kissed her again. “This is how I imagine the perfect Friday night. I get to help Wild Angel set up for their gig. And then Nicks Sorenson allows me to take her to the most remote booth in Tapestries, and we eat wings until our respective underwear don’t fit. Doable?”
She grinned. “Who’s wearing underwear?”
Nicks watched in the rearview mirror as Stone swung his Camaro into the driveway behind her Cobalt. The plan was for the two of them to load all of her gear into her dad’s truck so they could drive to Tapestries together.
Unfortunately, the Avalanche was not in the garage. “Great. He never goes to Tapestries this early. Now what do I do?”
“Well, we can try to load it into my car. How much gear do you have?”
“My amp, which is fairly large, but it’s in two pieces. I normally take two guitars with me, just in case.”