by Mandi Beck
Before either of us can reply, Kevin sympathizes. “That sucks. I know how much you loved that one. Talked about it nonstop for weeks. Is it someone the label can contact and try to convince?”
“Nope. The label has even less of a chance than he does,” I answer a now startled looking Kevin.
“It’s your song?”
“It is. Well, it was,” I murmur. My mind made up. Again I can feel Joaquin’s gaze on me. The others at the table watching us curiously.
“Was? Did you decide to give it to someone?” Joaquin asks a bit crestfallen.
“I did,” I say, taking a sip of my water. Letting him hang for a moment. Torture, I know, but he looks so adorably hot with that sad look on his face.
“I’m sure they’ll take good care of it and make it a chart topper,” he says, placing a kiss to my temple. He’s very affectionate. I can’t help but love the attention he gives me without even thinking about it.
“Oh, I have no doubt that he will. I would never have decided to let him have it if I didn’t think he would.” I’ve drawn this out long enough. I turn to Phillipe and say nonchalantly, “You can send all the paperwork over to Bear whenever you get the chance, Mr. Theroux. I’ll have him look over them and get it all back to you as soon as possible so that you guys can get into the studio and get the album all wrapped up.” His wide smile lets me know he understands what I’ve just said and who the song is for.
“Chèrie?” Joaquin questions, hopeful and a smidge confused.
Meeting his gaze, molten chocolate with swirls of caramel, I smile, “It’s yours.” I feel it’s the least I can do for this man who is awakening so many feelings I’d forgotten about.
Joaquin catches me off guard when he takes my face in his hands and kisses me softly. Just the corner of my mouth, a whisper, as his beard tickles over my lips. “Merci. I promise you won’t be sorry,” he murmurs. All I can do is nod. Part of me wanting to chase after his kiss, the other needing to run from the onslaught of emotions that simple non-kiss, this smooth, considerate Frenchman, evokes in me.
He’s quiet on the ride home but it’s not uncomfortable. Sometime soon after we got in the car, he took my hand in his and laid it on my thigh. His thumb brushing over my knuckles rhythmically. By this point my nerve endings are dancing, need zinging through me with every pass across my overly sensitized skin. When we pull up to the house, dark but for the porch light blazing, I’m not sure whether I’m disappointed or relieved. I know I’m tired of these yoyo-ing emotions though.
Soundlessly he releases my hand and slides from the car. Just as I’m reaching for the door handle, he opens it from the outside, offering me his hand to help me from the low slung seat. Without releasing me, he closes the door and we start up the pathway to my front porch.
“Thank you for tonight. For coming with me and for the song. I honestly wasn’t expecting it. Had given up on it, truth be told.” He chuckles but then pulls me to a halt. Serious now, he turns me to face him. “You know that none of this, the time we’ve been spending together, had anything to do with your song, chèrie. That was all because of you. Because you make me feel things I’ve not allowed myself to take the time to feel in a long, long time.” Joaquin brushes the hair from my shoulder, giving us both a moment to absorb his words. I silently thank him for that because I’m incapable of speaking right now. “I care for you, Willow. A lot. I look at you and your daughter, and I feel . . . warmth. I know that sounds so strange, but it’s the only way to describe it.” Shaking his head a little as if he doesn’t understand it any more than I do. “I find myself just wanting to be with you. It’s not something I’m used to. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t care less who I am or that you don’t want anything to do with the business, you’re not trying to move up the ladder. Whatever it is, I like it. Like the way it makes me feel to know there’s no hidden agenda.” Joaquin cups my face, tilting it up to see him better. “Let me take your time and give you mine, chèrie. You and Lyric.” His accent is melodic, his words even more so. I’m enthralled and entranced.
Giddy and nervous and deathly afraid of all of it, I just nod my head yes. Without thought, without regret. “Okay.”
His crooked smile is a beautiful sight. White teeth flashing through his satiny beard. When he lowers his head, gaze steady on mine, watching for any sign of hesitation, I show none. Just stand, waiting for his kiss. The kiss I’ve been thinking about all night. “I’m going to kiss you, Willow,” Joaquin whispers, his breath warming my lips.
And again, all I can say is, “Okay.” My eyes flutter closed just as his mouth covers mine. Soft, firm, patient, and needy. His beard tickling. My heart races as fast as my mind when he slides his hands in my hair, tilting my head and slowly brushing his tongue along my bottom lip, asking for entrance. A shiver races up my spine when I open to him and let him in. He moans softly, or maybe it’s me. Pulling me tighter against him, I can feel him hardening where our bodies are flush. It excites me and scares me all at once. My feelings are contradicting each other with every new sensation that washes over me. I want nothing more than to just be in this moment, but as much as I love his lips on me, his gentle domination, I can’t quiet the riotous thoughts knocking around in my head. Making their presence known.
Joaquin breaks the kiss even though I can see it’s a struggle for him. Gliding his hands out of my hair, he gently brushes his thumb along my lips, taking away the, moisture of our kiss along with the taste of him. “Goodnight, chèrie.”
“Night, Joaquin,” I say in a soft voice and then turn on trembling legs to let myself in the house. As I shut the door, I give him a small wave that he returns. The moment it’s closed, I pop up on tiptoes to look out the peephole. He’s still standing there, rubbing two fingers over his bottom lip, a small, satisfied smile gracing that wicked talented mouth that just worked its magic on me. When he turns and heads back to his car in the drive, I slip out of my shoes and quietly head up the stairs to Lyric’s nursery. I need the serenity I always find there to calm the chaos Joaquin and his kiss caused. The first kiss from a man other than Stone in years and I liked it. A lot. I liked it so much I want to do it again. Just as soon as I stop feeling so damn guilty.
Willow
I’VE NEVER SEEN A TRACK get added to an album so fast in my life. But it did. It was the last song to be added before the album was released and they wasted no time. The day after I relinquished rights to him, it was done. JD, as I had taken to calling him, much to his dismay, had called and asked if I wanted to sing backup on it, and I said no. There was something too intimate about singing with him. Especially this song. A song I had written when I was at my lowest. That was two months ago, and now it’s number one on every damn billboard chart. They wanted to get the album released in time to still have a chance to be nominated. And with the awards being held over the next few months, it looked like Joaquin had a solid shot.
Walking into my class, I stop short at the huge bouquet of flowers on the desk. I don’t have to read the card to know who they’re from. Joaquin and I have been inseparable since that night two months ago when he kissed me. If he’s not in the studio, we’re together, and even sometimes when he is in the studio. Plucking the card from the arrangement, I place Lyric, asleep in her car seat, on the chair and open it.
Chèrie,
I just wanted to let you know that I’m thinking about you always.
I’ll be back in a few days. I can’t wait to kiss you.
Tu me manques,
Joaquin
The man can’t help being so damn French. I give him hell about it, but I love every moment of it. Grabbing my phone, I do a search to see what “Tu me manques” means. “You are missing from me,” I say out loud to a sleeping Lyric and an otherwise empty room. “Swoony bastard.” My smile is reflected in my voice. Switching to my messages, I shoot one off before the class fills with kids.
Me: My flowers are beautiful. Thank you.
Joaquin: I’m glad you like them. I h
ave a gift for you and the bébé. I’ll come as soon as I land.
Me: Stop buying us things!!!!
Me: What is it?
Joaquin: Ha! Not telling.
Me: Fine. Gotta go, class is starting.
Joaquin: See you soon
Me: Soon! And you’re missing from me too.
Joaquin: For once your French is perfect.
Me: xoxoxoxo
Joaquin: Bisous
Tucking the phone away I check on Lyric one last time, placing her little headphones on her head and then prepare the room for the class. I want her to sleep as long as she will. Cora is taking the baby to see her mother again—they just love her at the nursing home—and I’m playing at The Dirty Bird tonight, so Bear is going to come and pick Lyric up here, making my life a little easier. They’re such a huge help, I’m not sure how I would do it without them and Perry. I’m brought from my musings when the door opens and Grady comes running in all smiles and ready to get his music on. I shouldn’t have favorites, but I do and it’s him. It can’t be helped. The kid is too damn cute.
We’re nearly through the class when Bear ambles in. He’s a big man. Huge. Over six and a half feet, dwarfing my own five foot four frame and making the kids look like ants. They’re not afraid of him though. He’s like the gentle giant and when he walks in they get excited, begging him to sing along with them. It warms my heart how far some of these children have come. How trusting and eager. Vocal, when few wouldn’t or couldn’t speak at all just a few weeks ago. I look over at Bear and shrug.
“What’ll it be, Bear?” I ask him, grinning.
Tapping a finger to his bearded chin, “Hmmmmm. I don’t think I know any songs. Maybe you guys should sing one to me,” he tells them in his booming voice. This delights them to no end and they decide to serenade him with the song we’ve been working on for the last couple weeks. Grady brings me my guitar and we sing loud and proud until the very last note.
Beaming, I stand at the rug that they’re all sitting around or near. “Take a bow everyone. That was the best one yet!” I praise.
Bear congratulates them on a job well done and stands at the door giving high fives and knuckles as they file out of the room. Just the sight of their little happy faces humbles me. I’m really not sure how my life could get any better right now. I’m on cloud nine. New man, job I love, friends who go above and beyond, and the most precious baby a mom could ask for. Nothing can bring me down right now. I hold on to that thought tight because it’s been a long time since I’ve been this happy, and after the year and a half I’ve had, I’m holding on with both hands.
“You ready, Willow?” Bear asks, lifting Lyric’s car seat from its perch, careful not to jostle her.
“Yep, sure am.” Gathering my things I flip the lights as he takes my guitar case from me and leads me from the room. The smell of the wildflowers on my desk following after me, making me think again of Joaquin.
Stone
IT TOOK THEM SIX MONTHS to get my house back in order after the fire I’d started. Addy called in a decorator who wanted to do some remodeling, but I refused. Wills decorated our home. No way in hell was I changing it. Walking through the rooms now I don’t look at them. They’re just rooms. Not a home without Willow. With a towel slung over my shoulder, I walk into the home gym that’s seen more action in the last few months than it has in all the years I’ve lived here. My phone chimes just as I’m about to put on the radio.
Judge: Law and I will be there in two
Me: You’re late. Just come to the gym
Judge: Fuck off, I’ve got shit going on
Me: Just get here, pussy
Tossing my phone aside I start setting up the weights. Koa is meeting with his contact from Paradise to make sure I’m doing my thing and he’s doing his. None of them like to leave me alone for long, which I appreciate most days. Not that I don’t trust myself. I do. Most days. I’m just not used to being alone here, and I fucking hate it. I find myself listening for Willow to come into the house. Walk into a room. And when she doesn’t, I want to break shit. Start a fire that will burn this motherfucker down for real this time.
I thought by now we would have found her. A couple of months ago, we met with the guy that Lawson hired in LA. He was following up on a lead but not fast enough for me. He thinks she left the country and that’s why he’s had such a hard time finding her. I told him that she grew up in Canada and he said that’s where one of his leads was, so he’s going to dig deeper into that one, but there’s a lot of red tape because it’s Canada. Every single day I’m so tempted to hop a plane and go there myself, but I have no fucking clue where to even start. All of Willow’s family is gone. She’s never mentioned friends in Canada. We’ve never gone to visit anyone the times we’ve been there for the Much Music Awards, or if we were there on tour. I have no idea where to begin, so I fucking wait. And I hate waiting.
With my thoughts all over the place, I sit on the bench, trying to get out of my own head. Linkin Park is wailing around me, eyes closed, my head bobbing along with the beat. Just then the door opens and in walk the brothers.
“‘In the End,’” huh? It’s gonna be one of those days. Noted,” Law says as he strolls in. “You and Judge are gonna be fun to fuck with today.”
“Get fucked, Law,” Judge grumbles, tossing his keys, wallet and phone on the counter.
“See? Fun,” Lawson tells me laughing.
Getting up, I turn the stereo down a bit. “Why are you in such a shit mood?” I’m glad to have something besides me to focus on for a change.
Judge groans, “I don’t even want to fucking talk about it.”
“Oh, I want to talk about it. Let’s talk about it,” Law says gleefully. “You remember that chick, Brianna, he was tagging for a while there?”
“The model from the video, right?” I’m not sure that’s right but it sounds familiar.
“Yup. That’s the one. Well, seems like his model fuck buddy is preggers.” He pauses to let that sink in. “With his baby.”
I turn to look at Judge. Of all the people I know, he’s the last one I expected to ever find himself in this position. Law has to be bullshitting me. “There’s no fucking way. Is there, Judge?” I ask incredulously. He shrugs his shoulders and runs a hand down his face.
“Fuck. Maybe? There was one time the condom broke,” he mumbles, his hand covering his mouth.
“Did you seriously just say that? Does that shit really happen?” I bounce between Law and Judge.
“Apparently, because it did,” Judge bites out.
“Holy fuck.”
“Yeah. And this asshat over here thinks it’s the funniest shit ever,” he says, jerking his thumb in his brother’s direction.
“That’s because it is. The responsible one in the bunch with his suits and ties and college degree. Looks like your dick didn’t get the memo that you aren’t the rock star, you just manage them,” Law ribs him.
“Fuck off, Lawson,” Judge mumbles.
“Don’t poke the bear, man,” I warn still trying to process the news. A baby. In-fucking-sane.
With a bounce in his step—he really is too stoked about this shit—Lawson fires up the treadmill and starts to beat feet. “Addy said Scarlet might be flying in?” he asks as he adjusts his speed.
“Yeah. I’ve been avoiding her. I think she’s sick of it.”
“Why the fuck are you avoiding her?” Judge calls out, turning the radio down.
“Because she doesn’t know about me and Wills. I don’t want her asking a fuck ton of questions. We went and saw her right before—all that shit. She’s already stressed about the whole rehab thing; I don’t need her tweaking over Willow being gone too,” I tell them, settling on the bench, waiting for Judge to come spot me.
“You know she’s probably read all about it if she didn’t see that interview you did, right?” Judge asks from above me.
I just grunt. I have more than enough to worry about. My little sister wanting an
swers is so far down on the fucking list I can’t even be bothered.
As we’re wrapping up, Law’s phone starts ringing, “What’s up?” he answers, making Judge shake his head in disgust.
“I swear to fuck, he’s got no fucking manners.”
“No, but he does know how to wrap his dick,” I throw at him as I bound up the steps, a pissed off Judge hot on my heels.
I stop when I hear Lawson say, “Wait, wait, Addy, slow down. He found her?” My head whips in his direction so fast it makes me dizzy. Eyes glued to his I stalk toward him, reaching for the phone. Batting my hand away, “Text me the addresses.”
“Fuck the addresses, Law. Get me a fucking flight,” I bite out at him, my mind racing.
“Did you hear that? Yeah, me and Judge too. Arrow not ‘til later, he’s visiting his mom.” Law looks over at Judge for confirmation. Nodding he reaches for his own phone, to make arrangements I’m sure. I’m the only one standing there with nothing to do. Nobody to call because my somebody needs to be found.
When Law hangs up, he just looks at me. Quietly assessing. “You ready for this, Stone?”
I get what he’s asking. He promised me he’d help me find her and he has. But he also said we wouldn’t follow up any leads until I was certain I was ready. That I felt secure in my sobriety. I feel as secure as I think I’ll ever feel.
“I’ve been ready.” I answer honestly. He nods and that’s the end of the discussion.
With nothing left to say I turn and head for my room. It’s time to find my rhythm.
Stone
I’VE BEEN SITTING IN FRONT of the school for about three hours now. Driving myself insane, my leg bouncing constantly as I chain smoke. Nothing to do but think about all of the ways I’ve fucked up.
It’s been about a year and a half since I’ve seen Willow. Sixteen long ass months the first of which I spent wallowing in coke, pills, and alcohol until finally checking myself into rehab. I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. I craved the high all the time, but not the other bullshit that came with it. She was right to leave me. Fuck, I threw her away. My muse, my heart. Threw her away without a care. So if I had to sit here for another three hours just to catch a glimpse of her I would. Tapping out a beat on the steering wheel, I glance at the clock again. It had taken me months to even fucking find her. My Wills hadn’t wanted to be found. She came back home to Canada. I never even thought to look for her here. She left this place when she was seventeen and had never mentioned coming back for more than a visit here and there. Always claimed there was nothing here for her after her parents had died and she had been shipped off to live with her aunt, Law and Judge’s next-door neighbor. Sighing loudly, tired of my own damn company, I stretch over the center console and pop the glove box, grabbing one of the lollipops I threw in there. I’m as addicted to these things as I am everything else in my life. Unwrapping the raspberry flavored lolli, I pop it into my mouth just as the front door of the school opens. Slowly, I straighten in my seat, my hand reaching for the door handle as I watch a lumberjack looking motherfucker hold the door open and let a woman through. She smiles up at him in thanks, patting his chest with her hand, and my pulse stutters. Willow. Even from here I’m sure it’s her. My veins feel singed and my heart . . . my heart starts beating in rhythm for the first time in five hundred and forty-seven days. And just as quickly as it finds its rhythm—it stops.