Captivated

by Susan Scott Shelley

  No doubt his work ethic had come from his old man, but still… “I get enough criticism from coaches and the media. You’re my dad. You should be my biggest fan, but instead, you’re the last person I want to talk to after a game.”

  Silence. Then a click.

  His old man had hung up on him.

  “Damn it.” Dom hurled his phone onto his bed. That hadn’t gone according to the fucking plan. What if the conversation with Irisa went the same way?

  Remnants of their night together, the shoes and bra she’d left behind, sat on a chair, taunting him every time he passed by. He’d have to return them to her at some point. If he screwed it up, he’d lose her for sure.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  When the band made a commitment, they honored it. Irisa kept repeating the thought as the car carried her and the band closer to the charity event. Zander wouldn’t let her back out of attending, insisting on a united front. You can’t hide from Dom forever.

  The past two weeks on the road had given her a reprieve. Anger and hurt blended together to form a shield. She’d show up, hold her head high, and let Dom see how unaffected she was. She’d dressed simply for the fancy occasion, and the cherry-red cocktail dress helped her feign cheerfulness.

  When the venue came into view, her heart pounded, her stomach fluttered, and her hands shook. She stepped out of the car on shaky limbs. “I’ll just wait here until you’re done.”

  Her brother’s hands rested on her shoulders and he stooped to meet her gaze. “You’re fine. You can do this.”

  Landry grabbed his guitar case out of the car. “We’ve got your back.”

  Luke extended his hand to her. “If you start freaking out when we’re inside, squeeze my hand and I’ll get you out of there.” He’d been sullen and moody for the entire length of the road trip, and she’d been ready to kill him on several occasions, but his offer wiped all those frustrations away.

  Grasping his hand, she followed Zander and Jayne. Brendan flanked her other side and Landry brought up the rear. Her own personal protection bubble.

  Rock music reverberated off the walls. Decorations in blue, white, and green covered every surface of the crowded room. Professional athletes and celebrities mingled with the attendees. Several members of the Riptide posed for pictures, and Fin the Shark was making the rounds. But she didn’t see Dom.

  Slade strode up to them. “Good to see you, Irisa. Guys. Jayne.”

  They chatted about the venue and how the proceeds for the evening would be divided among the area’s animal shelters. And then Dom came into view and everything else faded away. His light blue shirt and charcoal-gray pants highlighted his golden skin and dark, good looks. Faint remnants of a black eye decorated his skin. Regret flashed hot and fast. She’d never meant to hit him.

  “Thanks for coming.” He met her gaze, and then his glance dropped to her dress, then to her hand clasped in Luke’s. Brown eyes flashed with intensity.

  Zander stepped forward and extended his hand, his voice several degrees cooler than normal. “Thanks for asking us.”

  Tapping his fingers at his side, Dom shifted his stance. “Irisa, do you have a minute?”

  She wasn’t ready for another round of talking or another round of lies. She squeezed Luke’s hand.

  He stepped closer and cleared his throat. “Now isn’t the best time for that, Torres.” The band members glanced at her, then closed ranks around her.

  More people came by, drifting between them and drawing Dom’s attention.

  So much for developing a thick shield. The wound was still too raw. Living in the same building as him was too much. Hopefully, the offer she’d put in on her dream house would be accepted. Then she could get away, and have a fresh start.

  Zander leaned in. “That wasn’t so bad, right? Now let’s get a drink and pretend you’re enjoying yourself.”

  She allowed Luke to lead her away, following the band, and resisted the temptation to glance over her shoulder. Goosebumps pebbled, and she swore she could feel Dom’s gaze on her skin.

  Pretending to have the time of her life was exhausting and had given her a headache. Irisa sipped seltzer water and kept close to the stage while the guys did a quick warmup.

  “Excuse me, Irisa?” A voice drifted toward her amid a cloud of perfume. Familiar perfume. Revolting perfume.

  She turned and came face to face with Natalie Frye. Her heart jolted and her stomach jumped. She straightened her spine and tightened her grip on her glass. What the hell? The ex? Really? Did she and Dom plan this? A glance over her shoulder confirmed Jayne wasn’t yet back from the bar, and the guys were twenty feet away. She didn’t see Dom anywhere.

  The blonde thrust her hand out. “Natalie Frye. I just wanted to introduce myself. I trust Dom passed along my demo?” She hung on to the arm of the massive linebacker beside her. “He got all bent out of shape when I asked him to do it, but I was sure you wouldn’t mind. It must happen all the time, right?”

  Something wasn’t adding up. The letter said he’d offered, but now she’d contradicted herself. “I’m sorry, but I make it a policy not to get involved in artist submissions. You can find the appropriate address on Excite’s website.”

  A pout formed on Natalie’s lips. “I’d thought you would be able to help me get my demo to the top of the pile.”

  “I’m sorry. I really don’t have any pull with the company.”

  “Oh, come on now, you’re the manager for their biggest band.” Natalie stepped into Irisa’s personal space. She reminded her of a lion moving in for the kill.

  “Well, I don’t.” She shifted her body toward the stage, desperate for a breath of fresh air.

  Natalie moved right along with her. She flicked her hand through her hair. “Is there any way I can get you to change your mind? I just know you’d know all the right people.”

  Irisa fought the urge to throw her drink in the woman’s face. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Turning, she took off in the direction of the restrooms. That awful perfume seemed to have burned her sinuses. If Natalie followed her, well, she’d see what happened when you backed a Rostov into a corner.

  The giant shark stepped in her path, waving his fins. She peered through the dark mesh of the shark’s open mouth and could barely make out Liam’s head. “Hi, Liam.”

  “Having fun?”

  “Not really.” She sighed and risked a glance over her shoulder. Safe.

  “Did Natalie say something to upset you? She has that effect on people.”

  “It was awkward. I didn’t expect her to come up to me. She’s really insistent.” She paused. How much did Liam know?

  He leaned down. “Just watch yourself with her. She’s a pro at taking advantage of people. She put Dom through the wringer.”

  “Did she?”

  “Messed him up pretty good for a while. I don’t trust her. You’re better off staying far away.”

  “If she’d treated him that badly, I wonder why he’d continue to see her.” Hugging her arms to her chest, she shook her head. “Never mind. You’re his friend and I don’t want to put you in the middle.”

  “Dom’s one of my best friends. He’s a good guy, a decent guy. He doesn’t lie. He also doesn’t cheat. Not with baseball, not with anything.” The intense, serious words coming from the huge, cartoonish shark gave her pause.

  Sounds of The Fury’s music wafted from the stage. “My guys are up. I guess I’d better head back in there.”

  “I’ll go with you. No one will mess with you when you have a shark on your side.” He patted her arm with his fin and walked with her to the stage. To her relief, Natalie was gone.

  The band played three songs, and then Zander took the mic. “This last one we’re gonna play is for Dom. We love that he uses “Cut Down” as his walk-up song. Dom, if you’re out there, come up on stage.”

  The crowd cheered when Dom joined them halfway through. He looked out into the crowd, and his gaze came to a rest on her. Her breat
h caught in her chest. It hurt, hurt to see him. She didn’t know what to believe about the demo or Natalie, but the emotions playing across his face—longing, intensity, desire, and frustration—pulled at something in her core.

  The last notes faded away and he turned to the band. The absence of his attention filled her with an aching, lonely chill.

  Exhausted from a sleepless night tossing and turning and reliving the charity event, Irisa slogged through the day running on coffee and the adrenaline that pumped through her on show days. She snuck away after the band’s pre-show meet-and-greet and checked her email. Still no word about the house. Hopefully she’d hear soon.

  Raised voices met her as she walked down the hall to their dressing room.

  Zander and Luke stood glaring at each other in the middle of the room.

  Her brother’s hands tightened to fists. “Fuck you. Go. I’ll sing.”

  Luke laughed, then sneered. “The fans won’t buy that. We can replace a bass player, a drummer, hell, even you. But you can’t replace a lead singer. I’m what brings fans in.”

  “You’re what brings the fans in? Just you, asshole?”

  “Guys, enough.” Irisa pushed between them. “You have to be onstage in a few minutes. Pull it together.”

  “Might want to watch that ego, buddy. All of us have taken turns at the mic.”

  “You think you can do better than me?” Luke shoved Zander’s chest. “Fine. Have at it.” He grabbed his jacket and walked out of the room.

  Irisa stared at the ceiling, searching for patience. She’d give Luke a minute by himself to cool off. After drawing in five deep, slow breaths, she cast a glare at each member of the band. Her blood raced and her stomach burned. “Is it too much to ask that you get along for one show?”

  “I’m getting really tired of him.” Zander’s hand tapped a rapid rhythm at his side.

  Landry tugged on his leather jacket. “Not only him.”

  Her brother turned on the bassist. “What was that?”

  The door opened and Jayne walked in. “It’s showtime.”

  “Did you see Luke?” Irisa gripped her roll of antacids. At this rate, she’d need an entire roll to get through the night.

  She shook her head. “Where was he going?”

  Brendan moved toward the door. “I’ll go look for him.”

  “No. Get to the stage. I’ll find him.” Jayne rushed out.

  Irisa dialed his cell. The call went to voice mail. “You’re supposed to be on stage now.” She sent a text with the same message.

  “What the hell?” Zander grabbed his guitar and stalked out of the room.

  “He couldn’t have gone very far.” He’d probably ducked into a restroom or bumped into a fan or member of the crew.

  The minutes ticked by.

  Jayne met them backstage. “Security couldn’t find him, so they checked their cameras. He walked out of the building a few minutes ago and got into a cab.”

  “Fuck.” Zander’s expletive exploded over the backstage chaos. “He wants to leave that way? Fine.”

  Irisa grabbed hold of his arm. “You can’t go out there and tell the fans that he walked out.”

  “I know, I know. He got sick.” He used air quotes and smirked.

  “Make sure you don’t use those hand gestures when you tell the fans.” Tension flooded in a tightening band at her temples. This was all shades of bad. How could he leave? She called him again, and then sent another text.

  The Fury took the stage.

  For a while, the crowd was sympathetic. Zander filled in as singer and encouraged them to sing along. Then he brought a fan on stage. She’d held up a sign that read It’s my birthday and I came here to sing with Luke.

  “She came here to sing with Luke, so how about we sing “Happy Birthday” to her?” Zander charmed the crowd with his smile.

  Irisa moved closer. Still no response from Luke, but the guys were pulling off the show, no problem. They could get through this.

  The crowd sang. And the girl grinned and hugged Zander, then held up her phone and took a photo with him. She squinted at her screen and her mouth dropped open. She thrust her finger in his face. “You lied. Luke’s not sick. He’s at a bar with my friend.”

  His mic picked up her words.

  Boos drowned out the music.

  Zander faced the crowd. “I told you his voice was strained, guys. He couldn’t perform and give you one hundred percent. That’s why he’s not here. But come on, let’s show everyone why you’re the best crowd we’ve had on the tour.”

  The band launched into one of their high-energy hits.

  “Luke sucks! Luke sucks!” The crowd’s chant blended into the song. And an open cup of beer landed on the stage, sloshing its contents at Zander’s feet. Then another and another. Trash came flying from all directions. Security jumped onstage. The band kept playing.

  Irisa jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder.

  Jayne stood by her, with members of Assertive Ire. “I asked them if they could go on early. They’re ready.”

  She nodded. What else could she do? Onstage, Zander said something to the fans about contacting Luke if they wanted a refund. Jayne called his name, waving her arms to get his attention.

  “Show’s over.”

  Zander stormed past her. “I’m going to kill him.”

  “Get in line.” Irisa herded them away from the stage and back to the dressing room. “One of you could’ve been seriously hurt out there.”

  Landry pulled off his dripping jacket and beer-stained shirt. “Where was he? Let’s go get him.”

  “Too late.” Brendan looked at his phone. “Other fans showed up there, but he’s gone now.”

  Zander wiped what looked like nacho cheese off his beloved guitar. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s out of the band.”

  Irisa rubbed the back of her neck. The guys were a seething, sweaty, sticky mess. The situation over The Fury's wayward singer had to be handled. Phone calls to Luke went unanswered. She sailed past worry and straight into annoyed. Would it be so hard to have one nice, normal tour again? Things were supposed to be easier with Jayne around.

  "No rash decisions. Hit the showers and let's get out of here. He's not answering any of us, so you have two choices. One, you go home, nowhere else, home, and we'll figure this out in the morning. Or two, you come with me to Luke's house. He has to come home sometime."

  Going to Luke's house made the most sense. Where else could he be?

  Brendan nodded at her. "I'll go with you."

  "Me too. I want some answers." Landry cracked his knuckles. She’d never seen him look so angry.

  Zander set the towel aside. "Fuck him. I'm going home and making some calls. We'll replace him. Let him go."

  "You can't make that decision on your own," Irisa reminded him. She dug through her purse for her car keys. Luke’s behavior wasn’t typical Luke. “He’s not his normal self. You can’t just boot him out.”

  "You see him here? He made his choice. I'm making the calls."

  Brendan stubbed the toe of his boot against the open door, expression grim. Out of the group, he was the slowest to anger. "Might as well. We don't know if he's coming back for tomorrow night's show either."

  “I’ll come with you too, if you think it will help.” Jayne came into Irisa’s line of vision. She’d been so quiet.

  “No.” Zander shook his head and reached for her hand. “Come with me. I need to feel like I have at least one person on my side.”

  Landry stepped in front of him. “I’m on the band’s side. Something you and Luke seem to have forgotten lately.” He moved toward the door. “See you guys there.”

  Brendan jangled his keys in his hand. “Landry’s right. We’re all out of tune.”

  Pinpricks of tears dotted the back of Irisa’s eyes. Blinking hard and fast, she rushed to her car. Out of tune. That nailed it. The phone call she'd been expecting rang out. Oliver. Damn it. She'd hoped to talk to Luke before having to deal w
ith him. "Hello."

  "Irisa."

  "Oliver."

  "What happened to Luke?"

  "He was sick."

  "He was tagged in a bar photo."

  She sighed, and then she lied. "He'd strained his voice. He couldn't sing." And then she lied some more. "He'd bumped into the fan on the street and she insisted on buying him a drink. He didn't want to let her down. That's all that happened. He left the bar right after. No drama. No issues. Everything is fine." That story would be drilled into every member of the band.

  "Will his voice be recovered for tomorrow night’s show?"

  "I was on my way over to check on him right now. So I should get going. I'll let you know."

  "Do that."

  Pushing the speed limit, she drove to Luke's and rang the doorbell incessantly.

  Finally, he opened the door. Blue eyes burning, muscles tight. "What?"

  "Don't 'What?' me. What the hell were you thinking?” She brushed by him and stalked into the foyer. “You skipped out on a show. You disappointed a lot of fans, and the label wants to know what the hell is going on."

  "Hey. Zander said the band didn't need me. I gave him the chance to prove it."

  "Are you serious?"

  "He thinks he can do it all himself."

  "I was there. That's not what he said." Both the band and Luke's social media pages had been flooded with concerned and angry messages. She rolled her shoulders. "Look. We need you back. The fans want you. Do you really want to tick them off?"

  “Of course not. I guess things didn’t go too well without me, huh?”

  “Thanks to that fan sharing the picture of you two together at the bar, the show ended in fans trashing the stage. Someone could have gotten seriously hurt."

  He stared at her for a moment, brows raised while he processed what she’d said. “Shit. That’s not good.”