Striding into the room, Marcus announced, “Hey guys, JR and I are cool. You ready to get back to work on ‘Mother’s Gift’?”
Avery and Dwight nodded, and as they headed down the hall back to the studio, Dwight filled Marcus in on Beth’s news.
THE RINGING OF her cell jarred Avery awake. She fumbled around until she located it on the nightstand.
“Hey,” Marcus’ deep voice rumbled immediately.
“Hey, yourself,” Avery grumbled sleepily.
“Aren’t you up yet, bum?”
“Marcus, it’s eight in the morning. On a Saturday!” she bit out snippily. “All decent people are still asleep. I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”
“Oookay…You without coffee is kind of scaring me. Hurry up and get some. We’re going to Granville Island Market for breakfast and need to get an early start.”
He hung up, leaving Avery staring bleary eyed at her cell phone. She dragged herself out of bed and went into the kitchenette. Less than fifteen minutes later, Avery was caffeinated and dressed. A definite bonus to being a guy was the shortened amount of prep time.
Marcus called her when he got to the lobby. Avery grabbed her jacket and room key and headed down. He greeted her as soon as the elevator doors opened, handing her a cup of coffee from Café Artigiano. Smiling at Marcus gratefully, she opened the lid and inhaled the delicious aroma.
“I had ‘em put a double shot of espresso. I wanted to make sure you were fully charged. Man, you’re a grump in the morning.” He raised his brows, her early morning testiness obviously something he didn’t want to repeat. “Are you ready to go experience one of my favorite Vancouver attractions?”
“You said something about a market. I don’t quite remember. It was a pre-caffeine moment.” She looked over his shoulder. “Hey, where’s Ray?”
“It’s Saturday. It’s his day off. Besides, I wanted you to get the full local experience which is hard to do with a bodyguard. Come on, let’s get going.” He motioned to the waiting taxi the bellman had called up for them.
Avery was enchanted by Granville Island, especially the Public Market. Early on a rainy weekend morning, there were very few customers. They had the place almost to themselves except for the merchants beginning to quietly set up their booths for the day. Rows and rows of goods stretched endlessly throughout the warehouse sized building. The front section held predominantly fresh fruits and vegetables along with some flowers, further in they found delicious smelling bakery items, refrigerated deli meats and cheeses, and artisan wares.
Marcus grinned as Avery enthusiastically browsed up and down the aisles, enjoying the free samples, except for the candied salmon. “I’m guessing by that puckered face you’re making,” his tone reflected his amusement, “that you’re not a fan.”
Avery nodded. Not wanting to hurt the seller’s feelings, she tried to chew and swallow, but in the end she had to discreetly spit the unpleasant stuff out into a trashcan.
Finally they settled on some locally-made mozzarella cheese, freshly baked bread, and an assortment of fresh fruit. They moved to the bar in front of the floor to ceiling windows overlooking False Creek and spread out their selections. Rain cascaded down the windows like a waterfall, blurring the view of the ocean and city skyline. They ate their makeshift breakfast in relative silence except for their munching and the occasional seagull’s cry.
Avery was glad that there didn’t seem to be any residual awkwardness between the two of them from the previous day. She couldn’t forget the way it had felt to touch Marcus like that. Whatever she’d felt, luckily, it hadn’t seemed to affect him in quite the same way.
In fact, once the band had returned to the studio to record her song, no one had seemed inclined to make a big deal about it. They had all immersed themselves in the recording process. Being the lead singer and guitarist on the piece, Avery had been more than a little overwhelmed. She’d been happy to return the vocal responsibilities to Marcus the minute she was done with her part.
“Did Dalton tell you if he’s finished with ‘Mother’s Gift’, yet?” Avery asked him, wiping her mouth.
“Yeah. I’ve got a copy of it back at my apartment. I was thinking you might want to come over to hear it…” He paused, doing a drum roll on the bar. “And I’ve got an idea for another song I want to work on.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded, sky blue eyes alight.
“Cool.”
Avery licked her fingers, but stopped when Marcus’ gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered. Her lips began to feel hypersensitive. Her throat became dry. She found it difficult to swallow as she imagined what his kiss would be like. “Come on, let’s go,” she said breathlessly, pushing back from the table. “But on the way out I think we should stop and get one of those chocolate Nanaimo bars!”
Marcus groaned. “Dude, you are going to be so sick.”
When they finally made it to Marcus’ apartment, they were both soaked from the dash through the rain. Avery’s short hair was plastered to her head, and the layers of clothes she wore felt like they weighed a hundred pounds.
Marcus dropped his keys on the entry way table and jogged to his bedroom, returning with some dry clothes. “These are going to be way too big for you, Ace.” He intently studied his new guitarist for a moment. “Your eyes look huge with your hair all wet like that. You look…” He trailed off. Why was he even noticing things like that? What the hell was he thinking? “Like an anime puppy.” He finished lamely. “I’m heading to my bedroom to shower and change. You’re welcome to use the other. Throw your wet things outside the door, and I’ll put them in the dryer.”
Avery went to the guest bath she had used the previous day, checking compulsively to make sure the door was locked before she undressed. When she came out twenty minutes later, warm, hair blown dry, she found Marcus waiting on the sectional. His wet hair was combed back off his gorgeous face, and he looked a little uncertain from where he sat with two steaming mugs of tea in front of him.
He stared at her so long with that piercing gaze of his that she started to feel uncomfortably flushed before he looked away. “Now you look like Tom Sawyer with stolen grownup clothes on.” His tone was teasing, but there was something else there, an edge to it that wasn’t. “You’re stuff will be dry in thirty minutes.”
Even though Avery had rolled up the pant legs on Marcus’ jeans half a dozen times, they were still way too long, and his shirt hung below her knees. She had to resist the urge to bury her nose in the collar where his scent still lingered. She wished things could be different. That she could be her real self with him. She wished she were the type of woman who could tempt a man like Marcus.
Avery was so lost in forbidden thoughts that she almost tripped on her way to him. She grimaced. “I guess it beats the wet cartoon dog look.” She awkwardly shuffled over holding up the waistband with both hands. “Do you have a belt or something I can use to keep these things up?”
“Sure, I’ll be right back,” Marcus snickered as he walked back to his bedroom. He returned with a tension hiking belt that could be tightened far enough to work.
Avery lifted up the shirt and began threading it through the belt loops, inadvertently exposing a sliver of skin. All of a sudden there was a thick vibration in the air. She caught Marcus’ eyes on her, an ambiguous expression on his face. She looked away, fingers clumsy as she tried to complete her task.
“Looks like the belt’s going to work.” She knew his words weren’t meant to be sexy, but his voice had an alluring husky quality to it that so was. Avery imagined it might be the way he would sound after he thoroughly kissed someone. She shivered at the thought.
Marcus cleared his throat before opening the laptop on the coffee table in front of him. “I’ve got the newly mastered recording of ‘Mother’s Gift’ in my email. I really want you to hear what it sounds like now.”
Avery felt stunned as she listened. She had never believed her voice was anything special. But on the recording
, she had to admit, it sounded amazing. Smooth and sultry. After it finished, she glanced over at Marcus to gauge his reaction.
The lead singer wore a smug look. An I-told-you-so smile. Before he could speak the words, Avery reached over and covered up his mouth with the palm of her hand. She felt the warmth of his breath first. Then his firm moist lips touched her skin, almost like a…kiss. A bolt of longing shot through her.
They both went completely still and stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, something inexplicable and unimaginable passing between them.
Marcus’ eyes suddenly widened as if awareness of who she wasn’t seemed to hit him.
Avery yanked her hand back, realizing her tactical error a moment too late. Stupid, stupid girl. She turned away, hiding her flaming face from view. Her thoughts were still on how rough his stubble had felt, and how incredibly good it’d felt to touch him. She didn’t think she could go on much longer playing this role with him when she wanted him so badly.
“Ok. Don’t say it.” Keeping her back to him, she remembered to deepen her voice and hoped her tone came out teasing rather than needy. “I will. You were right. I was wrong. But I really think the overdubs are the real reason it turned out so well.”
Marcus stood. He barely registered a word Avery was saying. “I should put these up.” He needed an excuse to put space between them. He tried not to run as he grabbed the handles of the empty mugs from the coffee table and headed for the kitchen.
Hidden from Avery’s view, Marcus scrubbed the palms of his hands over his face, trying not to think about what he’d done. It’d been an accident surely, brushing his lips against the guitarist’s soft skin. He threaded fistfuls of hair through his hands, pulling hard enough to make his eyes water. Get a grip, Marcus he told himself, denying with every fiber the way he had reacted to Avery. It just wasn’t possible. His body just wasn’t wired that way.
After a couple of deep stabilizing breaths, he rinsed their cups and returned to the living room. “Overdubbing can’t make a mediocre voice good, Ace.” He shot Avery a brief shuttered glance, grateful he didn’t see any censure in the guitarist’s eyes. He strategically chose a seat far away on the opposite end of the sectional. “You have a strong voice. You could take lead if you wanted.”
“Thanks, Marcus, but that’s not going to happen.” Avery rubbed palms across her jeans.
His jeans, Marcus thought. And why in the world didn’t that make him feel weird?
“You mentioned you had an idea for another song?” Avery prompted.
“Oh yeah. The deal with JR yesterday made me think about the danger we get into when we love the wrong type of things… like alcohol and drugs,” he hurriedly explained. “What if we did a song where the sirens from Greek mythology were a metaphor for that? You know how they lured sailors to their deaths with false promises to fulfill their deepest desires?”
When Avery didn’t immediately respond, he glanced over. The guitarist’s eyes were closed. “A-ver-y,” he sing-songed, snapping his fingers.
“What? Oh yeah, I love this idea…we could call it ‘Siren Call’.” She straightened up and reached back to retrieve her journal from the sofa table. “I’ve got the words to a chorus. I just need to write it down before I forget.” Avery scribbled furiously in her journal while Marcus watched.
The Siren calls, its voice so strong
Taking me places I do not belong
Oh how its power lulls me to play
I need the strength to find my way
“That thing looks pretty old,” he noted. “How long have you had it?”
She stopped writing, and looked up at him from beneath the shadow of her long auburn eyelashes. Her expression turned thoughtful. “A long time. A school counselor recommended I journal as a way to deal with my mom’s death and other stuff.”
“You never told me what happened to her.”
Her mouth turned down. “She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and died only six months later.”
“So you and your brother leaned pretty heavily on your dad after, I guess?”
Avery let out an aggravated snort. “Not hardly.” She stood abruptly, old emotions unsettling her, and almost tripped again on the rolled up pant legs again. Moving to the window, back turned to him, she could feel the tension coursing through her body as she stared out at the view.
“Avery,” Marcus called, and she heard him moving over to where she stood. “What’s the deal with your dad?
Avery snuck a sidelong peek at him and hesitated. Her childhood was a secret only she and Justin had shared. Yet here she was definitely considering telling him. She let out an uneven breath. “You sure you really want to know?”
“Yeah,” he replied softly. “But let’s sit back down.” He resumed his position on the sectional and glanced up at her. “I think it might be good for you to talk about it. At least that’s what they tell you in rehab.”
After a moment, Avery nodded and went and sat beside him. Hands in her lap, she started out hesitantly. “My father was withdrawn and distant after my mom died, but then we were all pretty messed up. She’d always been the glue that held the family together.” She sighed heavily. “After a while, though, he started drinking.” She stopped, knee bouncing with anxious energy, and glanced at Marcus with haunted eyes.
He gave her a tight smile.
It was hard to relive the memories, but Avery could tell that Marcus was trying to be encouraging and forced herself to continue. “At best I’d say he was a neglectful father. But when he drank, he was much worse. He would become extremely volatile and unreasonable and sometimes even violent. Justin took the brunt of it over the years, shielding me from the worst of his rage. He sported bruises more often than not. Like I’ve said, he was always my protector, but sometimes...”
“He hit you, too.” Marcus finished for her leaning forward, eyes turning as hard as the sapphire gems they now resembled. “Avery, I can’t believe you had to go through that.”
“It was awful,” she confessed. “Mostly we just tried to stay out of his way.” She lowered her head and twisted her hands tightly together on her lap. “I know it must have been really hard for him. They were so in love, Marcus. If you could have seen them. And she died so young. Justin and I were a handful. I’m sure we didn’t make things easier.”
“Don’t make excuses for him.” Marcus patted her shoulder and squeezed once. “He might’ve lost a wife, but you and your brother lost a mother. He should have been there for you. It was in no way your fault.”
Her eyes flashed to his.
“Hey come on now, you have to know that.”
“Yeah, well…” Her voice shook. “I know it in here.” She pointed at her head. “But here.” She pointed to her heart, “That’s a whole other matter, you know?” She pressed her lips together, willing herself not to cry. A guy wouldn’t, she was sure.
“So what did you do?” Marcus prompted softly.
“He was our father. We had already lost one parent. We accepted that was the way things had to be. It became our normal. We learned to lay low… for the most part. Music was our escape. I taught myself to play my mom’s old guitar, but I had to keep it at a friend’s because my father wouldn’t allow any music in the house after she died. I guess I eventually developed an aptitude for it.”
“No kidding,” Marcus muttered.
“Justin was an incredible singer,” Avery continued, her voice lowering as she recalled the yelling, the rock hard fists, and the uncertainty of what would happen from day to day. “We started a band. Then when things got too…” she stopped and restarted, “intense to stay, Justin and I took off to New York.”
“I think there’s quite a lot you’re editing out.” He ran his hands through his hair. “How old were you when you and Justin left?”
“Sixteen.” Her brow creased. “The week before our birthday was the worst he’d ever been. For some reason he’d become increasingly irrational around that time. He… um…�
� She cleared her throat. “The night we left he started saying a lot of hateful things. Justin called him out on it. My father went nuts, but he laid into me, instead of Justin. He busted a couple of my ribs before Justin pulled him off. My father hit him on the head with a beer bottle. When I saw the blood pouring down my brother’s face, I panicked and jumped on my father’s back. He threw me off, and I hit my head so hard on the coffee table that it knocked me out.”
“Damn. Avery! Shit!” Marcus leapt to his feet and started pacing back and forth as if searching for an outlet to vent his emotions. “The rotten bastard. I can’t believe a father would treat his own children that way. If he was here, I would drop him on his sorry ass!”
His raised voice, his clenched fists, and the implication of violence, brought up all of the long dormant emotions. Avery felt like the helpless victim all over again. She backed into the corner of the sectional, unconsciously drawing her legs to her chest to make herself a smaller target.
Marcus glanced at his guitarist, and then down at his fists, evidently surprised by the vehemence of his own response. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath before sitting back down. His expression recalcitrant, Marcus gently tapped Avery’s knee. “I’m sorry, kid.”
Avery lifted up her head, giving him a tremulous smile. “Sorry you asked?”
“No. No, I’m not, Ace.” His expression turned earnest. “It’s not the things that happen to us that make us who we are, but how we react to them, right? Looking at you, at the man you turned out to be despite everything, well, I think you should be very proud. All I see is strength and resilience when I look at you.”
Hearing those heart spoken words, the tears Avery had been holding in started sliding down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself. Shame had always kept her silent, but now having told Marcus, she felt strangely relieved as if the burden of the past had been lifted somewhat.
Love Rock'ollection: The Brutal Strength Rock Star Trilogy, books 1-3 Page 8