NicenEasy

by Lynne Connolly

  Matt stood at the bar, watching. Occasionally he’d add a suggestion, but he was the only member not officially in the band they allowed in to these sessions. Besides, Matt had belonged, and did again. He could imagine how the music would sound in its polished, recorded version. Or rather, he could imagine several different versions.

  They built the song and on the fourth go-round, Riku added something, guitar and a few notes he hummed under his breath.

  Donovan loved this. Fucking loved it. Couldn’t imagine not doing it. When the band played he could put all his concentration into it and nothing else mattered. He suggested another try but Riku vetoed it. “We need Jace here for the next part. Those notes, I want to put in some electronic stuff. Maybe scratch something onto it. This needs to be fuller.”

  “Yeah.” V had started distorting her sax using a foot-operated floor panel. “I don’t want sax, I want something winding and weird. This is a fantastic number. We could go any way.”

  “Do you want my input?” Matt asked. The fizz as he twisted off the cap of a bottle of soda and took a gulp sounded loud in the sudden quiet.

  “Anytime, man.” That came from Hunter. Laconic but to the point, as always.

  “It’s a beautiful song. One of Zazz’s pure, heartfelt numbers. There’s no anger in it, like in some of the others he’s been writing recently. So it could be quiet, an acoustic break. Or you can build on it and leave the lyrics and the central melody as the heart. That could be completely awesome, or it could be insane. No way of telling right now. But the song’s about the wind blowing you where it will, so weave around him and change it up. Make it seemingly unstructured, and then bring it all together at the end. I can’t really explain it, but I can hear it in my head.”

  “So can I,” Riku said. “Shit, so can I. He’s right. I vote we leave this one where it is until Jace gets here.”

  “Too busy with his new lady,” Hunter murmured.

  “Nah.” Matt grinned at V. “We’re here, aren’t we?” He blew her a kiss and she laughed but didn’t catch it, which made Donovan kind of glad. Murder City Ravens didn’t do cute.

  Maybe they did. Last night he’d made love to Allie with a tenderness he’d rarely employed with anyone. He’d never really gotten off on it before, but she so clearly enjoyed it and he wanted to make her happy. Her pleasure had brought him right back up and he’d ended up, after long and slow loving that could have lasted hours for all he knew, climaxing with a thoroughness that left him gloriously tranquil and sleepy.

  He’d woken up with the idea for the song firmly fixed in his head. As usual, he hadn’t had to tell Hunter, just start the piece and their combined inner clock allowed his bandmate to pick up and expand the thoughts that had only existed in his mind an hour before. Usually, his bass line came as a result of hard work, trying various combinations and ideas, but this had just gelled.

  Allie was sure as fuck good for him.

  But she had to go back to New York if she was going to hang on to what she had. He was living proof that you could never get everything you wanted. When all his options were great, why did he feel so bad?

  “So what’s so important that I have to come back early?” a new voice said.

  “Shit, Jace, do you have to creep about like a-a-fucking creeping thing?” V demanded, spinning around to face the newcomer.

  “Yeah, right.” Grinning, Jace sauntered toward the group of sofas the band had taken as its own. Zazz shifted over to make room for him. “Beverley’s in the office, aka Chick’s room, makin’ sense of whatever mess he’s left this time. Your parents are here?” He raised a dark brow at Donovan.

  “Yeah and you know how well I get on with them.” He’d never hidden his most candid thoughts about his “invalid” mother from the band. He put his guitar aside, laying it against the arm of the sofa. “I need to tell you guys something now you’re all here.”

  Riku, in the process of retuning his instrument, stopped. Hunter switched off his rig. V froze, her fingers on the keys, and exchanged a glance with Matt, who moved closer to where she sat. Jace just watched him, his expression unreadable. “So okay, you’ve got our attention,” Zazz said. “Go ahead.”

  “Elliott Moore flew here with a specific reason. He said it was to come to the convention, but he didn’t arrive until it was nearly over. He needn’t have bothered if that was the only reason for him to come. He had the flu, so he couldn’t make the signing.” He shrugged. “I did okay without him. But he had something else to tell me.”

  This was proving fucking hard to do, but he had to say it. Honesty, he reminded himself. His mother had nearly made his father cancel his visit to Alcatraz this morning because she’d claimed to be ill. Only the combined efforts of Chick, Allie and himself had persuaded him that she wasn’t at death’s door and they would look after her. At which point she’d retired back to bed in a huff. That was where lack of honesty got a person. Trapped in something they didn’t want.

  “Okay, man, so spill,” Riku said. “It can’t be that bad.”

  “It’s pretty good, actually.” He lifted his gaze, met Matt’s troubled, dark stare. Matt had once been Maxx Syccorraxx, badass lead singer and hard-living man. People used to make bets on how long he’d last, but after one too many near-death experiences, he’d gone to rehab and turned his life around. So it was possible to change direction, to change and be happy.

  “Elliott told me he’d had a six-figure offer from a major publishing house. They want a series of books, but the money’s just for the first three. And they made the offer before they knew who I was, so it wasn’t Murder City Ravens that did it for them. Now my secret’s out, he thinks he can parlay seven figures out of them.”

  “Shit, that’s amazing.” Riku leapt up and shook his hand, the others following suit with slaps on the back and handshakes, even a kiss from V.

  “Fuckin’ A,” Matt murmured to him. “Author and bass player. Congratulations, pal.”

  Donovan shook his head gloomily. “Author or bass player. I can’t do both.”

  “Why the fuck not?” V demanded. “You’ve done fine so far.”

  “They want a lot more from me and I’d have to do it full-time.” Plus, he could spend more time with Allie. That hadn’t escaped his notice. Although he’d told her he loved her “for now”, when he’d first kissed her he’d felt a connection that went bone-deep.

  It was true, he didn’t do forever, didn’t believe in it, but he wanted her for as long as he could imagine. He wouldn’t let her go easily, and he’d wait for her if he had to. But telling her that? No way.

  As an author, he could live anywhere, which would mean with Allie. Not wander around the world in the company of other vagabonds. The fact that those vagabonds were his best friends didn’t escape him either. Neither did his love for the music they created together.

  He loved drawing and writing, creating new worlds and exploring them. Shit, fuck and damn. This was impossible.

  “You know what?” Jace said. He leaned back, folded his arms. “Murder City Ravens has been through a fuck of a lot in its short life. We’ve coped before, we’ll do it again. I nearly left the band recently.” They exchanged glances. Some knew, some had guessed that when Jace’s family home went up for sale he might decide to stay with the new venture and quit the band.

  “I went with my heart in both cases. I was going to give up the band so I could have Beverley, but she wouldn’t let me do that. Now I have both of them. Sometimes that’s not possible, but I wasn’t about to give up on Beverley. Ever. You have to go with your heart, with what will make you happy. Life’s not a rehearsal, man. Fuck, I’m not tellin’ you anything you don’t know, just trying to point it out. Do what you need to do. Don’t do it for anyone else.”

  “He’s right.” Hunter didn’t speak much, but what he said was always to the point. “We’ll miss you but it’s not like we’ll never hear from you again. You’re the best bass player for us, but maybe you need to move on. Matt did.”
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  “Matt came back,” Matt said. “But I never planned it that way. Don’t get me wrong, I was fucking glad when it happened, but I’d built myself back up by then.”

  “Sex and drugs and rock ’n’ roll and comic novels,” Riku suggested.

  That thought remained with him as much as the others. “I’ll tell you all by the end of the last concert in L.A. If I decide to leave, I’ll honor my commitments.”

  “Fuck that,” said Riku. “We can get a standby for a while. Matt’s got some fucking brilliant session players. Tell us by the end of L.A. and then go, if that’s what you need. You owe us nothing. We owe you, Donovan. Just be sure you take the right path.”

  Yes, that was the thing. Choose and stick with it and give his whole self to it.

  Allie picked up her phone when it rang, expecting it to be Donovan or perhaps Chick. Once Chick had a phone number, she was discovering, he made good use of it. But she didn’t recognize the number on the screen. Taking a chance, she answered it anyway. “Hello.”

  “Is that Allison Bartz?”

  “Yes.” She could always change her number if the media had gotten hold of it.

  “Duane Fredericks here.”

  It seemed like a strangely long time before she remembered that Duane was Nancy’s boss, the senior editor of the fiction department at Casterbridge.

  So this was it, her official dismissal. Nancy had done what she’d threatened and gone to her boss, even before she’d flown back to New York. Allie braced herself for the inevitable. “Hello, Duane. How are you?”

  “Fine, fine. Listen, Allie, it’s about Nancy. I’ve been talking to her and it seems you and she are incompatible working together. I’d call it artistic differences. Am I right?”

  Did she tell him the truth, that Nancy was a sleazy boss who’d get authors at any cost? She couldn’t assume that everybody at Casterbridge operated the same way, surely? But if she told him and he didn’t believe her, that might screw up her career in publishing completely. She decided on a half-truth. “That’s part of it, yes.”

  “Okay. How would you feel working for someone else here? Maybe with a promotion?”

  Promotion? Ah, yes, right. “That sounds good.”

  Silence for a brief moment. “Yes, Nancy does have a forceful personality. You’ve no doubt heard rumors about Casterbridge at the convention, but like most, there’s only a little truth in them. However, we are restructuring the company and this does necessitate moving people about.

  ”Allie, I’ll be honest. Those pictures and the gossip, it’s not good. As a result, Carl Morano will be moving to Nancy’s editorship, but we have many other authors we can keep you busy with.” He paused. “You’re taking a few days’ vacation?”

  “It’s due.” She didn’t mean to sound so defensive.

  “Yes, it is, and it’s a good time to take it. You’re not alone, Nancy tells me.”

  Aha. Smooth bastard. “No, I’m not.”

  “You’re with Murder City Ravens? One member in particular?”

  “Yes.” She bit her lip. Oh well, why not? He said he’d seen the pictures, so it was hardly a secret anymore. “Donovan Harvey, the bass player.”

  “And you’ll be staying with him until you’re due back in New York?”

  “Yes, I will.”

  He hummed, actually hummed. “I’ve done some research. Murder City Ravens is a very private band and the manager is extremely protective of them. You’ve got in where few people go. You hear what I’m saying?”

  “Yes.” Although she wasn’t sure that she did. She’d let him tell her what he wanted.

  “Donovan Harvey is this month’s hot property in the publishing world. Coming out at the convention was a masterstroke. I understand he has a contract for three books with Edsel, but that’s a small publisher. We can offer more. Now do you hear what I’m saying?” He sounded impatient. Good.

  “Yes. You want Donovan Harvey and you want me to get him for you.” Presumably because they couldn’t. “Have you tried approaching him directly?” Like, say, the other house had, through Elliott.

  “We’ll leave that to you. We’ll have to make a formal offer through his agent, but if you can secure his approval, that won’t take long.”

  “What are you offering him?” Better to ask, but she doubted Casterbridge could match the figure Elliott had mentioned.

  “We can go up to half a million.”

  “What are you offering me?”

  “A senior editor’s salary and the chance to work with him exclusively if you need it. That might mean traveling with him.”

  The crafty bastard. Giving her what she wanted, but in a way she could accept. Since she was sleeping with him anyway, she might be able to persuade him. Not sleep with him in order to snag him. A lot of difference in that approach. Shit, Donovan must be hot right now. She’d get everything she wanted and a salary to go with it. His exclusive editor, traveling with him, enjoying the sights and sounds of a band on the road.

  She couldn’t deny she was tempted, but the fact that he knew that and was depending on it gave her more pause than anything else. Leverage to the max. Play for time.

  “Can I think about it?”

  “Let me know before the L.A. concert, then we can make plans. Okay? I’ll work this end to meet his agent, do a little networking.” Schmoozing.

  “As I say, I’ll consider it. Thanks, Duane.”

  “Have a good time. See you when you get back.”

  “Sure.” They hung up.

  She needed to find Donovan now.

  Walking to the main living area, she paused to listen to the music drifting past the closed doors. Beautiful and ethereal, even more so because she couldn’t see the people making the music. Then someone swore and a burst of raucous laughter followed. It didn’t entirely break the spell though. The strains of something she couldn’t quite catch remained.

  The door opened to show Jace Beauchene. It was like running into a hurricane, and Allie duly lost her breath, just as she had the first time she’d met him. She slapped a hand to her chest, like the heroine of a historical novel whose laces were tied too tight.

  Close up, Jace was even more gorgeous than in pictures and videos. Since he was one of the band who sometimes performed topless, she knew all about his dragon, the tattoo that started on one biceps and went right around and down his back, the tail disappearing somewhere below his low-riding jeans. Only a privileged few knew where that tail ended, and right now, only one person got to see it on a regular basis.

  He stared at her, she stared back, and he drew her in. She thought she’d gotten used to charisma now that she spent the night with someone who possessed it in spades. Apparently not. “Hi,” he said. She watched him switch on the charm and wondered whether he knew he was doing it.

  “Hi. I was looking for Donovan.”

  He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, pushing it back from his face. “Now’s a good time, actually. I’m going to get a different guitar from my room. Don’t keep him long though.” He grinned. “I wouldn’t be saying that if Beverley wasn’t busy with Chick’s shit.”

  “Your shit, actually.” A crisp voice sounded down the hallway and Allie caught the change in Jace’s expression before he turned around to face the woman he undoubtedly loved. She wanted someone to look at her like that. And then, someone did.

  Donovan smiled at her and her world lit up. He glowed at her, and what could she do but glow back? Ignoring everything else, she walked forward into arms she knew would be waiting for her. They closed around her and she lifted her face for his kiss.

  Perfect. He took her with all the gentleness and power she could ever wish for, and she gave it back to him. As one kiss flowed into another, nothing mattered except them and what would happen next.

  They didn’t need any words to know what would happen next.

  Fire burned through every pore, swept through her in an instant flash of heat. She wasn’t sure which of them led the way, but they
arrived in their suite and Donovan shot the bolt across the top of the door. “Fuck the keycard,” he said. “Oh fuck, how do you do this to me?”

  “Ditto,” she managed. The bedroom seemed so far away. But he didn’t. She wanted skin to skin, needed it, needed him. She tore off her T-shirt, unclipped the bra she didn’t know why she’d bothered with. He stripped off his top and then they were back, holding each other, warmth combining with warmth. As her hardening nipples met his chest, she moaned and moved, rubbing them against the smooth, packed muscle.

  “You taste so good,” he murmured. “Did you like meeting Jace up close?”

  “Hmmm.” She went on tiptoe for another kiss. “He’s pretty sexy, you know?”

  And in that instant, they slipped into their private games. “You want him?” Donovan stared down at her, hunger written large in his eyes.

  “Only if you’re there,” she whispered, her voice suddenly gone. The thought of it, Donovan and Jace sharing her, turned her wild.

  “I’ll be there all the way, every time.” His voice had turned rough. “Turn around.”

  Without waiting for her to obey, he spun her around and grabbed her breasts, kneading and squeezing them. “Would he do this?” He bent so his mouth was level with her ear. “I think he would. I’d let him do it, let him touch you, hold you. Jace likes it rough sometimes. I’ve seen him, just like he’s seen me.”

  “With a woman? Did you share?”

  “Fuck, yes. If I share, I do it with Jace most.”

  She believed him. In the past, in their wilder days, they’d have done that.

  “When I finish with someone, I pass her on to Jace. We relay, first one does her, then the other, so she’s kept in a constant state of arousal all night. You’d like that, hmmm?”

  She gasped and leaned back against his chest as he fondled her breasts. He slid one hand down her stomach to her hips and flipped open the button at the top of her jeans. The zipper followed in short order. “Off,” he said. “You want the dogs to see the rabbit, don’t you?”