Treble

by Desiree Holt, Lisabet Sarai, Lily Harlem, Elizabeth Coldwell, Wendi Zwaduk, Imari Jade

  “I thought you had to have that last cigarette?” Hank stopped mid-step and held open his arms. “There’s my precious little musicians. You still in charge of her, Jacoby?”

  “I’m not a slave.” Juniper rubbed Jacoby’s back, if only to calm her own frustration. “Do we need to sign contracts?”

  “If he’s in charge, then yes. If you want me to rep you, then it’s all taken care of. Duane’s in the conference room awaiting your answer, darling.”

  “I’m not your darling,” she snapped.

  “Where’s Parkur?” Jacoby folded his arms, his body tense and his stance wide. The guy exuded power from his six-foot, muscled frame.

  “I see where you both stand.” Hank narrowed his black eyes. “Juniper, run along and make nice with P-dog while Jac and I work on the contract with Duane.” Hank tipped his balding head towards the recording studio sound room. “We have lots to discuss.”

  P-dog? She cast another glance to Jacoby before taking a wide path around Hank. The less she had to touch their former manager, the better. She snuck one more peek at Jacoby before slipping through the open door. “Love you,” she mouthed. The slight dip of his head was the response.

  When she entered the sound room, she noticed Parkur sitting alone at the piano. Barefoot and clad in nothing more than faded denim and a sloppy T-shirt, Parkur appeared to be a broken man. His sandy hair flopped over his brow as he hung his head. If he’d wanted sympathy, his plan worked. Her heart squeezed within her chest. The last time he’d looked so distraught was the day he told her he wanted a relationship with Jacoby.

  Shoring up her courage, she knocked on the glass. Jerking upright in his seat, Parkur glanced around the room. When his gaze settled on the glass, a smile brightened his face. Like nothing had happened between them, he raced across the studio and flung open the door. “Ju!”

  She squealed when he tugged her into the soundproof room and shut the door. He swung her around in a circle. “My muse has returned!” He placed her feet on the ground and rested his forehead against hers. “This means everything to me.”

  “I haven’t done anything,” she murmured. “You never needed me to be creative.”

  With one hand wound into her hair and the other cupping her cheek, Parkur rubbed his nose along hers. “You have no idea the hell I’ve lived through. I wasn’t going to admit the truth—not yet, but I can’t hold back, babe. Promise you aren’t leaving.”

  What truth? The scent of his cologne twirled around her brain, fuzzying her thoughts. “I won’t go until we do what we do best.”

  “Make love?”

  “Make music.” Although making love sounded delicious and damned if she wasn’t turned on. “If it was so rough, why didn’t you call before now?”

  “Kiss me.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  Taking her by surprise and pinning her to the keyboard of the piano, Parkur moulded his lips to hers. She sighed and melted in his arms. Unlike Jacoby, Parker took his time. His smooth chin bumped against hers. He nibbled her bottom lip, swiping his tongue over the tender flesh. His erection pulsed against her abdomen as he captured her tongue in a deeper connection. She forked her fingers into his hair. They had to stop. To keep the kiss from turning to something primal. Tell her libido that. When in the presence of Parkur Thompson, she felt like a damned groupie. Throw Jacoby into the mix and they could thaw the thickest iceberg in seconds. Her pussy wept, dampening her panties.

  Panting, Parkur broke the kiss. Only a faint ring of jade showed around his ebony pupils. “You did miss me.” The tinkling of notes from the piano flooded the room as Juniper shifted in his embrace. The rest of the world melted away around them.

  “I want to spread your naked body across this piano and taste your sweet cunt.” His hips rocked, simulating sex. “When I’ve had my fill and you’re screaming my name, I want to feel that pussy clench around me.”

  Sure. Sounded like heaven…with one six-foot, raven-haired catch. “What about Jacoby?”

  “I didn’t forget him. He can watch and then fuck me into submission when you come.”

  She sighed and blinked back tears. The words alluded to Parkur wanting things back the way they’d been. The idea sounded wonderful but somehow jagged, like chunks were missing.

  “What? Talk to me.” He brushed the wetness from her cheeks. “Where’d I go wrong?”

  Her chin quivered. Moments earlier, she’d been more than willing to lift her skirt and let him have his way. Hell yes, she wanted Jacoby to watch and instruct them. But not before they each had their say. She wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck…then stopped cold. She hadn’t seen it moments before and might not have believed it had she not touched it, but there it was.

  The collar. The match to the silver braid she wore about her throat.

  “I made mistakes, but not that one,” he murmured. “He owns my heart and soul, just as you do.”

  Didn’t that revelation change the playing field. “We need to talk.”

  “I agree. Besides the music, I want to know what’s going on.” Parkur plopped down onto the piano bench, caging her between his knees. “I can’t do the lead vocals on this group of songs, and I assumed you’d send me your thoughts.” He folded his arms, the muscles bulging under the cotton T-shirt. “I want back on the drums. I hate being in front.”

  “Have Rhiannon sing.”

  “I like my eardrums.” He slumped forwards, unfolding his arms and resting his elbows on his knees. “She’s moving on with her own band.”

  “Oh.”

  Parkur tipped his head and cocked one brow. “I figured you knew, but then again, I’m shocked you showed.”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  “You two left in a fucking hurry when she joined the band.” The softness in his eyes garnered a harder edge. His jaw tensed. “I barely had time to say goodbye.”

  “There wasn’t much choice.”

  “Oh? You could’ve chosen to be with him and me…or just me. No, she showed up so you bailed and took him with you. I ain’t the brightest bulb, but it sure looked like I was just in the way.”

  “Jacoby claimed us—not you, not me. Us.”

  “Bullshit. The day I come to you with a whole album of music, ready to commit as a monogamous threesome, you both up and fucking leave. I wanted to marry you, Juniper.”

  He’d wanted to…marry her? “Then why in the name of God did you fuck her? You cheated on us.”

  “I’ve never slept with Rhiannon,” Parkur bit out. “She means shit to me.”

  Juniper wobbled and sank down onto Parkur’s lap. It sounded like all the things she and Jacoby had been told were false. Parkur could fake smiles or laughs, but never sincerity. She rubbed her temples and processed his words. “Wait, I missed something. Songs? Commitment? I thought… Wait. We need to bring Jac into this.”

  “Yeah, I’d like to know why he cock-teased me.”

  “Jac’s hard as steel, but he’s never been a cock tease. He cares about you as much as I do.”

  The door creaked behind her. When she looked in the direction of the sound, Hank leaned against the doorframe. “At least you look cosy. I didn’t think you two would work it out.”

  “What do you want?” Parkur’s words came out in a growl. He grasped her hand. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”

  “We heard, P-dog. The mics are on.” A sneer curled Hank’s thin lips. “You need to talk to Zero about the chorus on Slipped. He’s next door murdering it.”

  “Right now?” Shaking his head, Parkur smoothed his fingers through his hair. “Tell him we’re using B and to get his ass in here. And stop calling me that lame-ass name.”

  “I’m not your bitch. You work for me.”

  “Damn it.” Easing her off his lap, Parkur popped up out of his seat and strode to the door. Before he left, he spoke over his shoulder. “We aren’t done here.”

  Juniper grasped the bench for stability. “Agreed.”

>   Parker trudged through the sound room and slapped the buttons to kill the mics. He wasn’t sure what Hank was up to, but he knew Zero better than most. If his lead guitarist had an issue, he sure as hell didn’t use Hank as a go-between. As he stepped into the foyer, his breath clogged in his throat. He’d know the silhouette against the bank of windows from anywhere. Spiky hair, thick steel hoops in both ears, and a body filled out with solid muscle.

  Jacoby.

  Parkur jammed his hands into his pockets. He wanted to talk to his former lover, to embrace him and admit he needed him. Jacoby thought Parkur had cheated on them. Wasn’t possible. He stood rooted to the spot, hesitant to make his next move.

  “You never could make up your mind.” Jacoby’s words ricocheted off the glass.

  “Why are you out here and not rehearsing?”

  “Wasn’t asked in.”

  Jacoby was never a man of many words. Parkur sighed, unsure how to get through to his former lover. “I want you here. Always.”

  “Ask Hank.”

  “Fuck Hank. I’m asking you.” Other words formed on his tongue. Hell, he wanted the whole damned story. He wanted his partners back. “Come in and record with me.”

  “At least you found your balls.”

  “What the fuck?” Anger wouldn’t help mend the rift between them, but Parkur could only take so much. “If you hate me so much, why in the name of God did you come here?”

  Jacoby turned from the windows. Lines crinkled around his azure eyes. From strain? From regret? Parkur wasn’t sure. He yearned to smooth his fingers over the ravages of time and ease the pain. Jacoby placed his palm over Parkur’s heart. The heat seeped straight through his chest and settled in his groin. “Do you still have the collar?”

  Parkur blinked. Things made a bit more sense. Jacoby didn’t deal in emotions well—he left that to Juniper and the music. In his left-of-centre fashion, Jacoby cared. The thought knocked down a row of walls around Parkur’s heart. “I’ve always had a spine and my balls. It’s different when I’m with you, but I’m no less of a man.”

  Jacoby’s jaw tensed. Apparently the comment hit a bit too close to home.

  “I have the collar. I refused to take it off, even when you ditched me. I won’t take it off. I can’t.”

  “Because it’s your shtick?”

  The overriding desire to slap Jacoby crossed Parkur’s mind, but what would violence accomplish? He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It reminds me I belong with you.”

  Although he wasn’t completely convinced, Parkur swore Jacoby’s stony expression softened a bit. Maybe he’d made progress. Hope welled within his soul. If he could make them see they belonged together—for the band and for each other—things would turn out right.

  “When the rest of the world seems like a joke and I feel like I’m worthless, you save me. You know when to reel me in and when to send me soaring. Call it cheesy, call it campy, but yeah, I never let go. We made a great team. Or we used to. Why’d we let it fall apart? Because you thought I fucked Rhiannon? Sorry, but no.” Parkur folded his arms and sighed. “I don’t expect an easy answer, but I want to sort this out. I need you and Ju for more than any music. You both complete my soul.”

  Behind him a door slammed. “That’s it. I’m out.” Parkur glanced over his shoulder as Juniper stormed to Jacoby’s side. “I gave it my best shot thinking the studio could make it sound better. Sorry, I can’t work with this shit.”

  Ice thickened in Parkur’s chest. He knew the songs she’d been given. Hours and hours of pain and heartache had gone into the words. “What’s wrong with the lyrics? The melodies need tweaks, sure, but that’s where you two come in.”

  “Not this crap. I know your work. This ain’t it.” Juniper shoved a sheath of papers into Parkur’s hands. “Razrs Edge was never operatic, and I refuse to sing about a robot lover.”

  Confused, Parkur riffled through the pages. Besides not being in his handwriting, the melodies written didn’t make sense—sharps and flats written in a mishmash and mixed with high and low notes only a singer with a wide range could hit—not at all their style. He furrowed his brows. “This isn’t the music I sent with the courier. Where’d this come from?”

  Jacoby wrapped his arm around Juniper’s shoulders. “That’s the notebook you sent us in the mail. We tried to work out what to play, but it’s damned near impossible.”

  Parker shook his head. He clearly remembered handing the manila envelope to the courier two weeks prior. “You’re right, Ju. This piano work is shit.” He leafed through the pages, appalled by what he saw. “This doesn’t even qualify as shit.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Jacoby’s baritone echoed in the small room. “We’re here to play, not waste your time.”

  “This is my studio. We have all the time in the world because the record label wants an album of vintage RE. Fuck the time sheets. They’ll get it when it’s ready and not a moment earlier. What’s in this notebook isn’t what I wrote, and I’ll be damned if we record it. Are you hungry? I need some air.”

  “There is a place where we can talk.” Juniper squeezed Parkur’s hand. “If you’re in.”

  Parkur nodded and held his breath. Jacoby held the key. If Jacoby wanted nothing to do with Parkur, then no amount of words or begging would repair the relationship. After what seemed like ages, Jacoby growled the words Parkur had waited a year to hear. “Parkur, Juniper…do you wish to play?”

  She squeezed Parkur’s hand once more and they spoke in tandem. “Yes, Sir.”

  Chapter Three

  Jacoby refused to get his hopes up. He knew Juniper’s heart. She loved to play their games. Damn near burst his eardrums with her squeals when he’d asked her to marry him and take his last name. But Parkur? He remained a mystery. If Parkur’s track record spoke for anything, it was that he wanted to play for the short term. Jacoby wouldn’t stand by only to have his heart trampled again because of a whim. He needed trust and time. He nodded to the notebook. “If that’s crap, then we play, talk, and write the album, agreed?”

  “And after?” Parkur’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “What happens after?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “I’ll send Zero a text.” Parkur whipped his phone from his back pocket. “He needs a night off anyway.” He glanced over his shoulder as Rhiannon and Hank slipped out of the elevator.

  “Where are you going?” Rhiannon squeezed Parkur’s shoulders. “Are they here as studio musicians?” She crinkled her nose. Venom shone in her dark eyes. “We work in three takes. If you can’t handle the heat, we can’t use you.”

  Hank chuckled. “These two can’t play anything smoothly…except Parkur. They’ve got his tune down pat.”

  “Give me five minutes.” Parkur forked his fingers through his hair as he stalked into the reception room. “I’m not putting up with this shit.”

  Casting his glare at Hank, Jacoby clenched his fist. “You seem to be doing well. The record made the Top One Hundred.”

  “The public knows decent music.” Rhiannon stepped toe to toe with Jacoby. “It took me a moment, but now I remember. You’re the harpies who think they know decent music. Let me give you a tip. He needs a woman in his life, not you.”

  “Bitch,” Juniper snapped.

  “You’re nothing but another hole.” Rhiannon’s lip curled.

  Parkur appeared behind Rhiannon, coat in hand and tennis shoes on his feet. “I’m ready.” He leaned in close to Jacoby, brushing his lips over Jacoby’s cheek. “Save me?”

  “Save us.” Jacoby led Juniper and Parkur to the stairwell. His heart sped. They needed to get out of the damn building. “The apartment is two blocks. We’ll walk.”

  On the front steps of the building, Zero sat twiddling with his phone, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Go get ‘em, Tiger, and make us proud.”

  Parkur nodded and tucked himself into Jacoby’s side. Blood rushed through Jacoby’s system and settled in his cock. Memories of burying himself d
eep within Parkur’s ass while Parkur fucked Juniper formed in his mind. Getting them both home and naked sounded wonderful. Home. The dream had been an apartment for the three of them. Always together.

  Could the dream still come to fruition?

  Seven-thirty on an April evening wasn’t the best time to take a walk. The breeze whipped around them, causing Juniper and Parkur to clasp more tightly to him. Jacoby swallowed a groan. The nip in the air might chill them, but it did little to stifle the fever swirling through his body.

  The downtown building seemed to go by in a blur as they hurried to the loft. When they reached the foyer, Jacoby released Parkur. Nodding, Parkur opened the door for them. Jacoby’s heart pricked with a twinge of sadness. As much as he wanted to make love to Ju and Parkur, he didn’t want the play to feel like true punishment. Everyone had made mistakes…himself included.

  Juniper slipped through the open door. Bracing his hand on the frame, Jacoby nodded to Parkur. “Go.”

  Parkur pushed a windblown lock of hair from his eyes and flashed a grin before entering the foyer.

  The bell for the elevator pinged and echoed off the walls. Juniper breezed into the elevator. Parkur paused for a moment before shuffling in beside her. Jacoby pressed the correct button, closing the doors. The car surged skyward, then Jacoby slammed his fist into the emergency stop.

  Time for a little test.

  Juniper’s nostrils flared and her gaze vacillated between Jacoby and Parkur, who stood with his head bowed and his hands behind his back. Nice.

  “Show me his collar then mark him, pet, wherever you please.”

  Rubbing her hands over Parkur’s chest, Juniper nuzzled his cheek. She curled her fist in the folds of his T-shirt and planted kisses on his neck. She paused then nipped and sucked at his jugular, eliciting a low groan from Parkur.

  Jacoby drew in a long breath then let it out slowly. Seeing his wife leave a purplish bruise on his former lover’s neck heated his blood. Could the three of them get back to the love and music they once shared? He spread his fingers across the back of her neck to halt her action. Juniper eased away from Parkur and met Jacoby’s gaze.