I Breathe You
Page 1
I Breathe You
Breathe #1
Lori L. Clark
Dedication
This book is dedicated to everyone who has ever fallen in love with someone who was broken. To the men and women everywhere who spend a little more time dreaming up their own happily ever afters instead of worrying about something that might never come to pass. Remember, when no one else believes in you, you have to believe in yourself! By all means, don’t be afraid to dream big dreams and if you think you can, or can’t, you’re probably right.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 1
April
Nick Dauber dropped a bomb on us just moments before we were set to open the concert. Barry Atwood, head of the major recording label, Spooner, was in the audience. Spooner’s top act, Rock Steady, was heading out on a huge tour this coming summer, and Atwood was there to check out our band, Fate’s Crazy, looking to add us to the ticket if we had what it took to be the opening act for them.
Nick’s hands flailed about animatedly while he rushed through the mostly unnecessary spiel about why tonight could possibly be the most important show of our young, struggling career and how it might very well be the major break we’d been waiting for.
“I don’t think I need to remind you to be on your best behavior out there.” He narrowed his eyes pointedly at Dalton and me. Singling us out, he said, “You two, try not to kill each other tonight. Make damn sure the only people you knock dead are the sold-out crowd. I expect nothing less than a kickass performance. Clear?”
Everyone nodded in understanding. I grinned sideways at Dalton and winked when I said, “As long as lover boy here remembers who he’s going home with after the show, there won’t be any problem.”
Dalton shook his head and mischief flamed in his silvery eyes. “Rhaney baby, you know I couldn’t possibly forget that,” he cajoled with a syrupy sweet voice.
God. I hated it when I called me “Rhaney baby.” My mouth popped open to spout something cynical back at his smug face, but Nick stepped in between us.
“Rhane? Dalton? I mean it, you two. Fate’s Crazy’s entire future rests on your shoulders.” He chomped on the unlit cigar between his teeth, and his eyes bored into us deeply enough to cause me to fidget under the weight of his stare. No pressure there, Nick. Since the band had hired him three years ago to be our manager, Nick has been with us through our rock-bottom worst. He’s worked extremely hard at shaping us into what we’ve become.
“Give it everything you’ve got,” he said as he folded his arms across his ample fast food-fed gut and nodded in my direction. “And for Chrissakes, Rhane, act like a lady and try not to put anyone in the hospital tonight.”
He was teasing. Except for that one show in South County, I had never hurt anyone badly enough to require hospitalization. I tipped my head in Dalton’s direction and said, “I blame Dalton. If he wouldn’t provoke me by letting anything wearing a skirt rub her crotch up against him, I wouldn’t lose my temper.”
Nick sighed heavily and patted me on the back. “Just for tonight, Rhane, try to ignore the panties and the leg humping. Please?”
I gave a thin-lipped smile and nodded, “I’ll behave.”
“Hell yeah!” Dalton cheered as he slung the guitar strap around his neck.
My head snapped in his direction, and I pressed my index finger against his steely chest. “But don’t push me, Dalton,” I muttered coolly.
The recorded music that had been blasting through the giant speakers since the gates opened an hour or so ago suddenly fell silent as the lights went down. The sold-out crowd was on their feet. Fists pumped in the air while they stomped and chanted, “Crazy! Crazy!” as the twins, Ronnie and Donnie Donleavy, ran out on stage.
Donnie quickly assumed his position behind the drum set at the back. Ronnie strapped the bass around his neck as his long legs strode to the far right corner, away from where Dalton and I waited in the wings.
A temporary lull came over the cheering fans while they waited for us to come into view. Dalton grabbed my fisted left hand, engulfing it in his. He squeezed it, and his eyes burned into my soul. He raised my clenched fingers to his mouth and gently nipped at the back of my middle knuckle. Over the years, it had become our trademark pre-concert kiss, and no matter how pissed we were at each other we always performed this little ritual. Always.
As much as he knew how to push my buttons and infuriate me, I loved Dalton Morgan to the edge of time and back. I was convinced that there never had been, nor would there ever be, anyone else for me. I smiled at him through downcast eyes. “Let’s do this,” I said as I pulled our joined hands toward my lips. I gave him a quick knuckle kiss in return, perhaps biting a little harder than was strictly necessary.
He yelped and started laughing, “Dammit, Rhane, retract the fangs!”
I smirked and yanked him along behind me as we made our way out onto the stage. Wearing four-inch heels and clad in skintight black leather pants, I strutted out, front and center, to command my position. I grabbed the microphone with both hands like I owned the place, and for the next hour or so, I would.
We opened with our cover of Jefferson Airplane’s “Somebody to Love.” We nailed it. I mean, we were so dead on it was scary, fueled with the desire to go somewhere beyond just scraping by and the palpable need to launch ourselves into the big spotlight.
As a hard driving rock band, Fate’s Crazy has been playing together for five years. We started our career as four music-obsessed teens who took every chance we could to practice in Dalton’s garage. We became an official act sometime between my high school graduation and freshman year at college.
I wound up dropping out during my freshman year to begin my full-time professional career as lead vocalist and keyboardist for the band. My parents immediately disinherited me, and since the college had some lame rule about actually having to attend classes there in order to live on campus, I also became homeless.
Dalton sang backup and played lead guitar, and he was hotter than the dog days of summer in the Midwest. Unfortunately, he capitalized on that fact, and since I wasn’t the only girl with eyes in her head, it tended to cause some issues between the two of us. Dalton
was mine and I was his. I took serious issue with the skanky women clad in clothes that belonged to their thinner, younger sisters. Constantly launching their panties onto the stage wherever we played was enough to send me into a mood. He swore he only toyed with them to play the publicity card. “Women eat that shit up, Rhane,” he’d moan in protest whenever I’d get pissed.
The four of us shared a two-bedroom dump along with a multitude of cockroaches, and I knew we were all more than ready for something more.
We played our standard set, consisting of a lot of classic rock covers with some of our own stuff thrown in. We’d recently started to play some of our original songs during the shows, and our hardcore followers thought we were the shit.
Together, Dalton and I had co-written several songs including “Karma’s Desire,” which we hoped to release as our first single. “Karma’s Desire” was fast becoming recognized as our signature song, and we always saved it to close the show. It showcased my strong vocals as I belted out the sultry ballad about two star-crossed lovers. The twins dubbed it The Legend of Dalton and Rhane.
Chapter 2
The crowd went wild when Dalton stepped up to join me at the mic. Our harmonization was flawless as he sang along with me on the chorus of “Karma’s Desire.” Our chemistry, both on and off the stage, was palpable. By the time the song was over, everyone was on their feet. The concert was one of the best performances we’d ever given, hands down. To put it bluntly, we kicked serious ass.
Donnie hopped down from behind his drums to join Ronnie, Dalton, and myself at center stage. We each had mile-wide smiles plastered across our faces when we took our well-orchestrated, collective bows. Destiny was on our side that night and in our hearts. Each one of us knew we had totally nailed it. I think somehow we sensed that things in our lives were about to move beyond the point of no return.
Dalton draped his arm casually over my shoulders and hugged me tight against his side. We exchanged knowing smiles, and I knew, as soon as I spotted Nick and Barry sharing broad grins, that the night was ours.
I couldn’t remember when I’d ever seen Nick so red-faced with energy. Honestly, I worried a little about his blood pressure as he enthusiastically introduced us to Barry Atwood. Barry was surprisingly calm as he shook each of our hands. Of course he was calm. I was about to pee my pants from excitement, and he was acting like he did this kind of thing every night. I was sure he met with much more famous people than Fate’s Crazy on any given day of the week.
“Let’s find someplace to discuss a few things,” Barry suggested, and we followed him to a small private room. Once inside, he clasped his hands behind his back and rocked from toe to heel. “Look, I’m not going to waste your time, or mine, beating around the bush. I like what I saw and heard tonight. You guys delivered some serious rock and roll out there.”
Donnie and Ronnie high fived each other and puffed out their chests. An arrogant gesture we’d become accustomed to from the lanky duo. “I’m pretty sure it was my drum solo that sealed the deal,” Donnie snickered cockily.
Ronnie rolled his eyes and pointed back at himself, “Yeah, right. More like the world’s greatest bass player, don’t you mean?”
A faint twinkle glimmered in Barry’s eyes. “Better not let Zach hear you say that, or we’ll have some serious head butting,” he laughed. Anyone who knew their music knew that Rock Steady has probably one of the best, most talented bass players active today. Zachariah Feldman was second to none, and if you didn’t believe it, just ask him. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to let you know just how good he is.
Ronnie shrugged, “Zach’s okay, I guess.”
We groaned and Dalton slapped Ronnie on the back playfully, “Sometimes I wonder how the five of us fit into that cramped apartment.”
Ronnie wrinkled his nose at Dalton. “Five? Dude, what are you talking about, five?”
“Donnie, Rhane, you, me,” Dalton ticked off before he added, “And that big friggin’ ego of yours.”
Ronnie scowled, and I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth to stifle the laugh threatening to escalate into an unattractive snort.
“Well, if things go like I think they will,” Barry spoke up, interrupting our banter, “No one will have to worry about sharing a shitty apartment anymore. Unless of course, they prefer it that way.” His steely eyes darted between Dalton and me as he spoke.
Barry leaned against the wall and clasped his hands in front of him. He didn’t waste any more of our time and quickly began to discuss what his plans for us included. The offer he threw out sounded amazing to me. I was certain my eyes had gone as round as golf balls with shock. It took every ounce of restraint I had not to jump to my feet and ask him where he wanted us to sign.
Dalton squeezed my hand a little tighter to try and stay my nerves. I swore he sometimes knew what I was thinking before the idea had even fully formulated in my brain. Before I could open my mouth and utter anything resembling a coherent sentence, Nick shot me a look that had shut up written all over it.
Nick cleared his throat and said, “That’s not a bad first offer, Mr. Atwood, but these kids are going places. Big places. I think we both know that.”
A shrewd smile snaked across Barry’s face, and he raised his eyebrows. “I kind of figured you’d say that.”
“Did you now?” Nick said with a grin.
“Of course,” Barry sighed. “Nobody ever takes the first offer. But what kind of business man would I be if I didn’t throw it out there, just in case?”
I was a bundle of nerves by the time they settled on something mutually agreeable. I was convinced any of us would have taken the first offer; that’s how pumped up we were about the opportunity to tour with Rock Steady. With each offer and counter-offer, my anxiety cranked up a little bit further. I think we all breathed a collective sigh of relief once they shook hands.
Barry shook each of our hands and smiled with reassurance. “I’ll have the contracts drawn up and we’ll set up a time the first part of next week to get this fast train rollin’,” he said as he smiled broadly.
Barry had informed us that as soon as the ink was dry on the contracts, he wanted us in the studio to record “Karma’s Desire.” He planned to release the single as soon as possible, hoping to get us some heavy airplay prior to the first leg of our tour. The tour was slated to begin at the end of May, taking us from our home in the Midwest, out to both coasts and back again. In between dates, Barry’s plan was for us to record the rest of our first album one song at a time if we had to.
Once he left the room and we were reasonably certain he couldn’t hear our shouts and screams, we high-fived, generally making spectacles of ourselves. Dalton lifted me off my feet, and I wrapped my long legs around his skinny hips. He kissed me fiercely and said, “I told you I’d make you famous, Ray.”
I tipped my head back and laughed, “That you did, Dal. That you did.”
Our over-the-top excitement was interrupted briefly when Barry ducked his head back in the room to say, “I almost forgot, why don’t you all head on over to the Hilton? The guys are in town for their show tomorrow night, and they’re having a little party. I’ll let security know you’ll be joining us, giving you clearance to the penthouse. We’ll make it a double celebration.”
We exchanged looks with Nick, and he waved us off. “Don’t worry about the equipment. It doesn’t have to be out until tomorrow afternoon. We’ll get it later.”
With a hearty “Hell yeah,” Dalton grabbed my hand and gave me a soft, sweet knuckle kiss before hauling me out to his beat-up Corolla parked in the underground garage. The twins said they’d follow in Ronnie’s van and meet us there.
Chapter 3
I glanced sideways at Dalton as the car sped west, leaving the congestion of the city streets behind heading toward the Airport Hilton. He could not have been grinning any more broadly. I slid my hand across the space between us and gripped his muscular thigh. He laid his hand on top of mine and squeezed. “Can you belie
ve it, Ray? We’re finally getting the break we’ve been waiting for,” he said.
“Nope. I keep thinking someone’s going to wake me up and tell me it’s only a dream,” I sighed. I slid out from under the shoulder strap of my seatbelt and snuggled against his side while he drove. I craved his closeness like summer crops craved rain.
As soon we pulled into the parking garage and found a close spot, he shut off the ignition. He angled his lanky body sideways in the seat and stared intently at me. I reached up and ran my hand along his scruffy jaw line. He could go for days without shaving, and the reddish brown stubble on his chin gave him a rugged, sexy look.
“You did this, you know that, right?” His moss-green eyes locked with mine, and he reached to tuck an errant wisp of dark hair behind my ear. “Your voice is what got us where we are, Ray.”
I shook my head. Yeah, my voice was unique; everyone said it was a cross between P!nk and Janis Joplin, with amazing power, similar to Ann Wilson of Heart. But I wasn’t delusional. I knew Fate’s Crazy was not just the Rhane Evans show; it was a team effort and required each one of us. The chemistry we shared on stage fused perfectly into what made us what we were. “We’re all a piece of the puzzle, Dalton. Always have been, always will be. Right?”