Lost For You

by Jayne Frost

  I pulled the blanket up to fight the chill. Phantom or not, my legs were trembling. “Thanks for the trip down memory lane. Now get the fuck out.”

  “So you’re just going to lie here and wallow?”

  “Until ten o’clock.” I groaned inwardly when sweat popped out on my brow. “Then I’m walking out of here. Seventy-two hours is up.”

  “Whatever.”

  The chair scraped across the linoleum, and the door slid shut a couple of seconds later.

  I closed my eyes, banishing my brother from my thoughts. Guilt was wasted on someone like me. Eleven years, and it wasn’t enough to keep me on the straight and narrow. My teeth chattered in earnest, so I conjured up a thought to warm me. A hint of rain soaked skin wafted to my nose, and a flash of stormy blue eyes drifted through my head. And that was worse.

  Ten o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.

  Chapter 36

  Taryn

  Benny Conner surveyed me with his slick, used car salesman smile. He wore the moniker of salesman with pride, so it wasn’t like he’d be offended by my description.

  Benny C, the most sought-after concert promoter in the business.

  I’d booked my first major tour with his company on behalf of Damaged when I was nineteen years old. The Damaged debut album had just reached the platinum mark, and I wanted to strike while the iron was hot. In all my naïveté, I’d contacted the publicity department at Conner Productions and offered the group up on a silver platter.

  It was my first coup. My first major score. In truth, the only thing I’d asked for, besides a huge chunk of change for the band, was to have Leveraged on the bill as the opening act. In exchange for an eighteen-month tour where we visited every corner of the globe, Damaged became superstars and Leveraged was launched.

  I’d stayed close with Conner Productions throughout the years. Their tours were grueling, and Benny himself was the biggest shark in the tank, but they served their purpose in the business. And if I wanted to re-invent myself and break away from Twin Souls, I couldn’t take a step down.

  The people at Conner were quick to respond when I’d sent my résumé, setting up the interview within a day of my initial query. But I might have overreached just a tad. Even in my nine-hundred-dollar business suit and Louboutin pumps, I felt underdressed. Hell, the secretaries dressed as well as I did.

  Mandy, the head of Benny’s public relations team, surveyed me from her spot across the conference table, a frown tugging the corners of her collagen-enhanced lips.

  I tried to hide my disappointment. If the head of PR wasn’t a fan, it would be challenging to get a job here.

  “Taryn, we’re so happy you agreed to meet with us before you went elsewhere,” Benny said smoothly.

  “I’ve only been here a few days,” I joked. “I haven’t even unpacked yet. Y’all work fast.”

  “That we do.” Benny chuckled. “I asked Mandy here to sit in on this meeting. If you decide to take the position I’m prepared to offer, she’ll be one of your most valuable resources.” He gave her a smile that she didn’t return. “Having someone work for you with Mandy’s credentials could lead to some great opportunities.”

  Work for me?

  My knees shook beneath the conference table, rattling the chair, so I took a large swallow from the green bottle of Perrier to calm my nerves.

  “I’m sure once you take a look at what we have to offer,” Benny continued. “You’ll realize that Conner Productions is the best place for you to showcase your talents.” Benny slid a thick, elegantly bound book across the desk.

  I didn’t know whether to open it, or just admire it. My fingers slid along the cover, which was not paper, but soft leather.

  “I’ve outlined the responsibilities for the position, along with the compensation and bonus structure.” Benny’s smile widened. “Of course, we can always negotiate the compensation. Money is not an issue. We want you on the Conner team, Taryn.”

  I opened the cover, fusing my lips together when I saw the salary. And the job title.

  Senior Vice President.

  Apparently, of everything, from the amount of responsibility diagramed. But the actual job title was: Senior Vice President/Talent Acquisition

  “This is …” I cleared my throat, “a very generous offer, Benny.”

  “I’ve had my eye on you since the first contract you negotiated with us.” He leaned back in his chair. “I never thought we’d be able to steal you away from Tori Grayson.”

  Prickling, I took another drink of water and then smiled tightly.

  “It wouldn’t really be theft. Tori and I are partners.”

  Sort of. Kind of.

  Benny’s gaze shifted to the folder in front of me. “In that packet, you’ll find a very generous profit sharing package. I’m a believer in rewarding my team with profits, not titles.” Releasing a chuckle, he shrugged. “Of course, there was no VP of Talent Acquisition before I got your résumé, so I guess I’m a believer in titles as well. Because they are important.”

  Mandy glared at me. Apparently, she wasn’t happy with her title. Or with me. Whatever it is that she did, Mandy was well paid if the diamonds dripping from her ears and her wrist were any indication.

  “I’m going to need to look this over.” Keenly aware of its weight, I picked up the folder. It could double as a telephone book in a small city. “There’s a lot of information here.”

  Benny laughed, nodding to an assistant who tapped on the open door.

  “We wanted to give you the full meal deal.” He waved her in. “Some of the perks that aren’t mentioned include the use of our private jet. That’s at your discretion. Say, if you’d like to fly home and visit your old team.” He laughed. “As long as you bring back a signed contract for a tour, that is.”

  I jumped when the cork popped on the champagne bottle. Benny’s wide-eyed assistant handed me a flute before passing one to Mandy and Benny.

  “Here’s to future alliances,” Benny toasted.

  When my glass was empty, Mandy steered the conversation from pleasant chatter about my trip, and Austin, to business.

  “We’re in the process of looking into a band that’s just signed with Twin Souls,” she said casually, her finger wicking the side of the crystal flute. “Would you have any insight as to what it would take to get Caged to sign on for the European leg of our next tour?”

  Benny feigned indifference, though he seemed just as interested in my answer.

  “Any information I have concerning past clients at Twin Souls is proprietary.” My gaze shifted to Benny. “I’m sure you understand.”

  While Benny nodded, Mandy kept the pressure on.

  “Do you have a confidentiality agreement?” she prodded. “A non-compete? Given your friendship with Tori Grayson, I would think those stipulations wouldn’t be in place.”

  I cemented on a smile. “They aren’t. That’s my stance on the matter. Nothing is in writing.”

  Agitation etched Mandy’s brow. At least I think it was agitation. I suspected Botox was to blame for her inscrutable features.

  “What I’m getting at,” Mandy said as she leaned forward and clasped her hands, “is that your close personal relationship with the members of the Big Three, as well as Caged, would go a long way in easing the bands’ minds when it comes time to negotiate. Tori seems intent on picking and choosing the schedules, and she hasn’t been inclined to hear any proposals from Conner Productions. I’m sure you can see how that might be a detriment to all the bands’ future growth.”

  Defensiveness stiffened my spine. “Twin Souls manages all their clients with an eye toward their future,” I bit out. “As far as the bands’ schedule, that was my area. It wasn’t Tori blocking your efforts. Conner tours are not for the faint of heart, and the Big Three all have a lot on their plates.”

  “Well, I’m sure that once you join the team, you’ll be able to handle all the pesky details, so the bands’ will feel comfortable signing up,” she said as
she held out her glass for a refill. “Our tours are rigorous, but the rewards can’t be denied.”

  “It depends on the kind of reward,” I said quietly. “And what you have to give up to achieve it.”

  For a minute, I almost forgot who I was dealing with. Why I stayed in Austin—and why I put my heart and soul into the company I started with Tori.

  “Of course. I just …” Mandy looked to Benny for guidance.

  She needn’t have bothered, since I suspected he was in on it. And if they brought me in, this is how it would be. They’d be paying me half of that fat salary so I’d convince the boys that Conner was the place to be. And it wasn’t. I’d kept the Big Three on top of the music industry for years without selling their souls.

  My heart sank a little as I gathered my things.

  “Leaving so soon, Taryn?” Benny sat up, confusion furrowing his brow. “I thought we could have lunch. Kind of a pre-celebration.”

  At the Ivy, I’m sure. With a contingent of press snapping photos for the news story that would “accidentally” leak about my new job.

  “Thanks, Benny.” I rose from the cushy leather chair. “But you know I’m here on business. I wanted to meet with you, and I’ll definitely take a look at your offer. I’ve got to get back to the studio.”

  I rolled my eyes, as if it were a bother. The real bother was sitting in the room with these two clowns.

  In all fairness, Conner Productions was typical of the industry in general. But I didn’t want typical. I wanted awesome. Hell, I’d started awesome from the ground up.

  An idea popped into my head, the notion so brilliant I nearly squinted.

  “I’ll let y’all know.” I was suddenly relaxed enough that my southern twang, the one I tried to hide at all costs when I was anywhere near the west coast, came shining through. “Thanks.”

  I rushed out, the receptionist and the grand foyer a blur as I made my way to the elevator. Powering up my phone, I scrolled through the contacts, smiling triumphantly when I found the number I was looking for. I waited until I was in the parking garage to get a clear signal before I placed the call.

  “Elise Donnelly.”

  Smiling at the familiar voice, I slid behind the wheel of the rental car. “Elise, it’s Taryn, you can drop that fake ass generic accent,” I joked. “If I don’t hear someone say ‘y’all’ in the next two minutes, I’m going to scream.”

  “Howdy, Taryn,” Elise drawled, using her best down-home Texas twang.

  I laughed, straight from the belly. And it felt so good. “Even better. How would you like to meet me so we can discuss a little business venture? As long as it’s not tofu or sushi, I’m buying.” I pulled onto the busy street, leaving the Connor Productions building behind. “Is there any place to get a decent slab of ribs around these parts?”

  Chapter 37

  Chase

  I threw my knapsack on the small twin bed and stepped back. The orderly dumped the contents while I looked out the window.

  “Standard procedure,” he said apologetically. “But, I gotta ask, any needles?”

  I shook my head and lifted the water bottle to my lips with a shaking hand. The setting sun shimmered through the dirty screen turning the whole world shades of gold, red, and orange. My gaze fixed on the sliver of water in the distance where the trees parted.

  “Group therapy tonight at eight.” The orderly stuffed the items back inside the green canvas bag. “Breakfast is at six. Miss it, you don’t eat.”

  Without waiting for me to acknowledge him, he left the room, his tennis shoes squeaking on the polished floor behind him. I sank into the uncomfortable chair, the plaid tweed itching me through the thin fabric of my board shorts as I continued to stare at the scrap of shore. My jaw ticked when the door swung open again.

  “Great view, huh?” Dr. Briar’s voice sounded behind me. “You can earn a two-hour pass after your first twenty hours of group.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  The guy must’ve forgotten that I’d checked myself in voluntarily. I could walk out the door and call a cab from the nearest pay phone.

  They still had pay phones, didn’t they? The random thought trailed off.

  “Our counselors are pretty familiar with the Guadeloupe,” he continued. “If you bank a few hours, you can take an afternoon and float the river. It’s very relaxing.”

  “You don’t say.” My chest ached as the sun sank behind the rocks, and I squinted to catch the last ray that danced off the water.

  In my periphery, I saw him lay the beat up black guitar case on the small bunk. “We made an exception for this. But we can just as easily rescind the privilege if you break the rules.”

  My fingers curled around the armrests. I ached for the feel of the wood in my hands. The guitar was the only thing my old man ever gave me, and I’d kept the Fender when I’d sold or traded everything else I owned. The guitar was a beacon of light. My assurance that when it was said and done, the music would be waiting for me.

  I shot him a bitter smile. “So, I guess that means I should cancel the party in the mess hall?”

  Dr. Briar chuckled as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

  “I know you’re here of your own accord, Chase.” His tone turned serious. “But there aren’t any shortcuts. You can’t buy sobriety. You’ve got to put in the work.”

  My Fender called to me. More than anything I just wanted the fucking dweeb to take a powder so that I could play. Briar crossed his arms over his chest and held his ground, waiting for a reply. These kind of doctors were big on acknowledgment—“owning” your disease.

  Swallowing against the metallic taste that lingered in my mouth from the non-narcotic medication that was supposed to help with my transition, I pulled out my guitar. “I get it.”

  The tips of my fingers tingled when I laid them against the strings.

  Since I had no say so in the matter, it was futile to tell Briar to take a hike, so I went about my business.

  The first strum sounded tinny to my ears, so I adjusted the tuning pegs until I got the right sound. Then I began to play. “Blue Eyed Summer,” the song I wrote for Taryn. Unable to help myself, the words poured out in a soft whisper.

  I forgot the doctor was there, only coming back to myself when the last chord died on my strings.

  Briar sank down onto the edge of the bed. “That was really beautiful. Did you write it for someone in particular?”

  I could lie. It’s not like he’d ever know.

  “A friend.”

  Friends … at least.

  “Does your friend have a name?”

  Sweet Taryn.

  “Taryn.” The ache in my chest spread, and my temples began to throb.

  Briar eased his back against the metal headboard. “Do you want to talk about that?”

  Pondering the question, I strummed absently without looking at him. Did I want to talk about Taryn? No … it hurt too much.

  “Not really.”

  Another song took form in my head as I stretched the musical muscles that had been dormant for the past few weeks.

  “Is your friend an addict?” he ventured.

  I barked out a laugh. “She’s addicted to beautiful.” The lyric popped out in answer to his question, turning around in my brain.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “No,” I grumbled. “She’s not and addict, or an alcoholic, or a co-dependent. She’s normal.”

  “So are you.”

  “Can we leave her out of this?” I shot Briar a fierce look, but he remained neutral. “She’s not in my life anymore.”

  He nodded, surveying me with a placid smile that I wanted to wipe off his face with my fist. “So she didn’t mean anything to you?”

  I bristled, my fingers frozen on the frets of the guitar. “I didn’t—” Biting my tongue, I averted my gaze. “I said she’s not around.”

  “Your choice or hers?”

  “Mine.”

  Some of the tension left my sh
oulders as Briar stood.

  “One more question?” he asked.

  Like I had a fucking choice.

  “Yeah?” I laid the guitar in the case and picked up the notebook with the curled pages and tattered edges.

  “Do you love her?”

  I stared out at the Guadeloupe, the sliver of water now lit by the full moon that hung low in the sky. The answer was clawing at the back of my throat, but still, I pondered.

  “Yeah,” I finally said.

  My shoulders sagged, the weight of my confession like a ton of bricks I’d just strapped to my back. Taryn was part of it now. My “process.” The road to recovery would include lengthy sessions about the girl that never knew how I felt.

  When the lock clicked shut behind Briar, I flopped onto the bunk and closed my eyes.

  Taryn was there. Inside my head. She’d inhabited the same spot ever since I woke up at the hospital. Before, even. I fingered the smooth side of the small stone that I’d picked up during the float trip.

  You’re the smooth surface to all my jagged edges.

  My vision clouded as I wrote down the lyric. I’d used music before to soothe the savage beast. But right now, I needed to learn to deal with the ache.

  Drugs hadn’t taken Taryn far from my memory, but I’d use them nonetheless. But instead of seeking a high, I’d be chasing oblivion. And if I wasn’t careful, I’d find it.

  Chapter 38

  Chase

  SIX MONTHS LATER

  The blood rushed to my head as I made my way to the lectern, the steady drone of the air conditioner accompanying me on my path. Though, from the temperature, you’d never know the small church basement had the amenity. Since the weather in central Texas fluctuated between hot and boiling hot with humidity, the heat was nothing new. But today, I had serious doubts that I’d be able to get through my speech without soaking through my T-shirt.

  I wiped my palm on the front of my jeans before shaking John’s outstretched hand.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  I nodded, then clasped my hands in front of me while he addressed the group.

  “We’ve got an anniversary today,” John said through a wide smile. “I’d like y’all to welcome Chase Noble. He’s celebrating six months of sobriety today.”