The Song in My Heart

by Richardson, Tracey

  Erika smiled, although she felt like crying again. She should have danced with joy. Should have been ecstatic at hearing the words she’d wanted to hear since the first time they’d kissed and again the first time they’d made love. How many times had she fantasized about hearing Dess say she loved her? How many times had she nearly begged Dess to say it and to mean it? But when the words finally came, they’d sounded harsh, almost cruel, like Dess was doing it to punish her. It hurt too that Dess had fallen straight into a defensive posture, not allowing Erika to explain her feelings, to change the course they were on. That had knocked her completely off balance. I should have gotten down on my knees and begged her to take me back.

  Erika shook her head in self-admonishment. She should have torn up the contract for the song. Should have told Dess she was and always would be more important to her than a song. Seeing her again, holding her, smelling her hair, her skin—it was like nothing had changed between them. All the old feelings were new again. Even now, her pulse quickened at the memory of kissing Dess again. She’d been blinded by her desire for Dess. Still was.

  The wheels hit the runway with a thump, and the engine roared as the plane began to slow down. Somehow, she had to fix this. She wasn’t going to let Dess slip out of her life again. Not like this.

  As the plane taxied to the gate, Erika switched her phone on and pulled up Sloane’s name from her contact list. Furiously, she began typing. After that text, she quickly drafted another to Jennifer Parker.

  “Ah, there you are,” Dayna said, greeting her moments later as Erika and her fellow passengers streamed out of the gate. She held out her hand, not to shake Erika’s, but for the damned contract, Erika knew. She pulled the papers from her bag, angrily tossed them at Dayna’s feet.

  “What the hell?” Dayna sputtered, bending to pick them up.

  “We’ll record the damned song, but that’s it,” Erika ground out.

  “What do you mean, that’s it?” Dayna clamped her hand on Erika’s elbow and guided her to a quiet corner before they began drawing attention.

  “Get me in the studio later this week. Next week’s Thanksgiving, and I’m going out of town.”

  “Fine, go out of town. But what’s the big hurry to get into the studio?”

  Erika surprised herself by speaking so calmly. She should have been hyperventilating, and yet, the rightness of what she was about to do gave her the most serene feeling she’d ever encountered. “I’m going to get new papers drawn up for that song.”

  Dayna’s face began to turn three shades of purple. “What the hell are you up to?”

  “That song,” Erika said, forcing a mechanical smile, “is going to be a hit. You know it and I know it. We’re going to record it this week, and it’s going to make you a crapload of money.”

  “You’re still not making sense. Are you high? Are you taking a page out of Bethany’s book?”

  “Dayna, listen carefully to me. I’m going to sign my half of the royalties over to you immediately. You’ll get the other half within a couple of weeks, which means the entire rights to it—and all the money that song earns—will be yours.” There was still the small matter of getting Dess to sign over her share of the royalties to Dayna as well, but Erika was confident she could convince her. Already, ideas of how to persuade her were beginning to take shape.

  “In return for what?”

  “For letting me go.”

  “Oh no. No way.” Dayna’s mouth twisted into a hateful smirk. “That song will make you a star, and if you think I’m going to let you go the minute you make it big, then you’re delusional.”

  Erika forced herself into Dayna’s space, towering above her. “You,” she snapped and pointed a finger, “are going to let me go, or I’ll never do another thing for you. I’d sooner sabotage my career, be a one-hit wonder, than continue under contract with you.” She stepped back, schooled her voice. “You let me go now or I ride out the remaining few months of our contract without doing another single performance, interview, recording or anything else. At least this way, you’re getting something out of it.”

  Dayna shook with fury. “You met with her in Chicago, didn’t you! Dess talked you into this. She hates me, and so do you, it seems, because she wants you to end up a washout, just like her.”

  Erika retreated a few steps, refusing to be drawn into an argument. She kept her gaze fixed on Dayna. “We record the song as quickly as possible. After that, any communication between us will be done through my lawyer.”

  On the taxi ride to her apartment, Erika checked her texts. She had a plan now, at least. Her plan. Not, for once, Dayna’s. And soon, she thought as a smile tugged at her lips, she’d be done with all this shuttling around. Planes, taxis, limos. Her life these days consisted of moving around from one city to the next, one concert to the next, one meeting to the next, one hotel room to the next. The so-called glamorous life was ninety percent shuttling around in cars and planes, going to and coming from strange places that would never feel like home.

  She glanced at a palm tree as the taxi swept past it. Good riddance, LA.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The smell of the turkey in the oven had been making Dess’s mouth water all afternoon. A glass of Riesling and Carol’s two young daughters vying for her constant attention failed to take her mind off the food. It would be wonderful to eat a lavish, home-cooked meal, and she was starving. Too often lately she’d been eating out of cardboard containers.

  Sloane, a regular at Hampton family dinners, sidled up to Dess. “You look like you’re about to rip the oven door off and start munching on that turkey.”

  Dess sipped her wine, watched Sloane do the same. “That obvious, am I?”

  “Yes, and it’s wonderful to see you getting your appetite back. Especially in time for Thanksgiving.”

  Dess made a face. For months, friends and family had sounded like a broken record about how she needed to gain weight, how she was going to make herself sick if she didn’t. They were always watching her, nagging her. She still couldn’t get used to having gone from the superstar that everyone—including her family—treated like royalty to the poor lamb who needed constant tending. The breakup with Erika and the injury on that Wisconsin stage had, in her family’s eyes, made her once again in need of protecting. Just like when she was recovering from cancer. And some days, their constant attention pissed her off, but only a little. She understood how lucky she was to have such loving and generous people around her. And, of course, how lucky she was to be alive. She wondered, for not the first time or even the hundredth, who was looking after Erika. Who was cherishing her. It wasn’t Bethany Dunlop anymore, according to the latest gossip websites and magazines, and that gave her reason to smile.

  She turned to Sloane. “I promise you that I can wait along with everyone else. But did you see that pumpkin pie my mom made from scratch? I might not be able to wait for that.”

  “I did, and you know what occurs to me?” Sloane sipped her wine again. She was easily on her third glass by now. “That we’re getting to that pathetic age where food matters more than sex.”

  Dess nearly dropped her glass. “Oh, that’ll never happen to you, my friend.”

  Sloane considered, before breaking into an impish grin. “You’re right, it won’t.”

  The doorbell rang, and Carol poked her head out of the kitchen. “Would you mind getting that, Sis?”

  Dess shrugged at Sloane. “This better not delay dinner, whoever it is.”

  “Do you want me to grab a baseball bat and come with you? Scare off whoever dares to interrupt our Thanksgiving dinner?”

  “No, better not. We don’t want any lawsuits.”

  “Good point. On the other hand, if it’s a hot woman, by all means, invite her in. We could put our theory to the test.” Sloane wiggled her eyebrows, and Dess slapped her shoulder on the way to the door.

  This better be good, she thought. Like a flower delivery or something involving food. She pulled op
en the heavy door. Her heart stopped.

  “Hi.” Erika stood before her, holding a bouquet of flowers.

  Dess could form no coherent thought. She couldn’t seem to speak either. Or move. So she stood there stupidly, as though her feet were nailed to the floor.

  Erika leaned in, smelling faintly of jasmine and sandalwood this time, and gave her a peck on the cheek. Dess’s knees went weak.

  “Sorry. I keep popping up out of nowhere, don’t I?” There wasn’t the slightest hint of anger or hurt in Erika’s voice from their falling out last week.

  “Erika!” Sloane nudged Dess aside and gave Erika a big hug, crushing the flowers between them. “It’s great to see you, kid. Come in.”

  Dess stood back, feeling strangely like the outsider as Sloane tugged Erika along. Carol had come running from the kitchen and gave Erika a squealing hug. “Yes, please, come in, Erika. Join us for dinner, won’t you?”

  “Okay, but only if you accept these flowers.”

  Erika’s smile was slightly apologetic, but her happiness at being around Dess and her family was clearly evident. It only made Dess want to cry at the futility of it all. Why was Erika torturing her this way? And how could she possibly sit through an entire dinner with Erika in the same room, smelling the way she smelled, looking more beautiful than she had ever seen her, looking like she belonged here? It was all so hopeless. Nothing had changed between them. There was still the white hot desire, the canyon of yearning and need in Dess’s heart. But also present was the same fractious issue that kept them from being together—Erika’s desire for success and Dess’s desire for a quiet life. We’re trapped in a horrible, vicious circle that has no resolution.

  In the kitchen, Dess pulled Carol aside and whispered, “Did you know about this?”

  Carol shrugged. “Maybe. All right, fine. She wanted to see you. Said it was important, and she didn’t think you’d agree to meet with her if she approached you directly. So I told her to come by.”

  Dess rolled her eyes. “What is this, high school?”

  Looking back to the living room she watched her mother press a glass of wine into Erika’s hands. “I hope you’ve come to sweep my daughter off her feet,” she deadpanned.

  Dess’s mouth fell open. “Mom!”

  Erika was playing it cool, thankfully. “I have some business with your daughter, Mrs. Hampton. As for the other, well…” She shot a mirth-filled glance at Dess. “That depends on Dess.”

  “Well, pleasure first. You can conduct business after dinner. And please, call me Victoria.”

  “All right. And thank you, Victoria.”

  “Come,” Victoria said to Erika, “and meet the rest of the family before the turkey gets cold.”

  Wow, Dess thought, my family acts as though she’s already one of us.

  “This is good,” Sloane whispered beside her. “Always best when the family gets along with the future in-law.”

  “Jesus, Sloane!”

  “Bull’s-eye.” Sloane laughed. “When are you going to understand that some things are just meant to be? Come on, let’s get first in line for the food.”

  Erika was perfectly charming over dinner, as if she’d been the scheduled main attraction all along, regaling them with stories from the road, gossiping idly about other celebrities. Carol’s young daughters were smitten. So was Carol, her husband, Rob and, of course, Dess’s mother. Victoria never once dropped her smile, even while cramming her mouth full of food.

  “Dessert’s another hour away,” Carol announced. To Dess, she said, “You and Erika are welcome to use my study to talk business.” She handed her a half bottle of Riesling and two glasses and capped the gesture with a wink. “You might need this.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  Dess closed the door behind them, set the bottle and glasses down on a side table. She didn’t want to be alone with Erika, no matter what the reason. It was too damned hard.

  “Do you really have business to discuss?” she asked, skepticism creeping into her voice. What kind of game was Erika playing, anyway? Had Dayna finally rubbed off on her?

  “Yes,” Erika said, sitting on a corner of Carol’s desk and casually crossing her arms. “It’s about our song. I know this is going to sound completely out of left field, but I want your half of the rights.”

  Blood thundered in Dess’s ears. “Dayna put you up to this, didn’t she?” She began to pace in front of Erika, trying not to go out of her mind. “She convinced you somehow that the song should be all yours? Well,” she raged, “you both can forget it.”

  “No. This wasn’t Dayna’s idea, but it has everything to do with her.”

  Dess desperately reached for the wine bottle and filled her glass to the top. With a trembling hand, she took a giant gulp. Maybe she should just sign over the damned song and be done with it. Be done playing these games with Erika. And Dayna. Ha, she thought. Dayna was as ruthless a bitch as ever and probably knew that Dess could not say no to Erika. About anything. They were playing her, and she was falling straight into their trap.

  From behind, Erika’s hand snaked its way around her wrist and guided her glass down to the table.

  “Turn around,” Erika whispered, her breath tickling Dess’s ear and sending a hot tremor down her spine.

  Mentally bracing herself to give Erika a piece of her mind, she reluctantly obeyed. She took a deep breath, intending to give Erika both barrels, when Erika’s mouth was suddenly on hers. The crushing heat of their lips undid her with an eruptive force that nearly lifted her off the ground, made her dizzy with a want she thought she could control but knew she never would. They fit together so perfectly. Not only their mouths, their lips, but their entire bodies. Fit together and belonged together. She slid into Erika’s embrace like a hand into a custom glove, and thought, I could die here never needing or regretting a single thing ever again.

  Erika deepened the kiss as her hands slid up Dess’s belly, her torso, until they brushed the underside of her breasts. Dess shivered with pleasure. She remembered how those hands felt on her breasts, on her skin, and she ached for them to touch her all over. But it would be a mistake, came the tiny pinprick of conscience. She’s here because she wants something and I can’t damned well say no.

  “Wait,” Dess said, breathless and placing a hand on Erika’s chest to create some distance between them. It was her last scrap of strength. “You can’t kiss me like that.”

  “Why not?” A defiant little smile flickered at the corner of Erika’s mouth, and it was annoyingly sexy. Those damned dimples were alive and well too, Dess noticed.

  “Because I have no resistance against it.” Dess swallowed. “It makes me want to give you anything.”

  A single eyebrow rose. “Anything?”

  It was true. She’d give Erika her body, her heart, her money, anything she wanted. But she’d be damned if she’d give in quite so readily. “Tell me why you want the song.”

  Erika reached for Dess’s glass of wine and took a sip from it. “I want us to give it to Dayna.”

  Dess’s heart pounded like a jackhammer. “You what?”

  “I’ve just recorded the song, and I told Dayna she could have it.”

  Shock and anger left Dess trembling. “That is our song, Erika. Yours and mine, and it’s not for you to give away. Especially not to her. How dare you!”

  “I have a good re—”

  “I thought that song was special to you, that it had special meaning.” Dess’s voice cracked, and tears weren’t far off. “It was special to me. I couldn’t have written those words, that music, with anyone but you. How on earth could you do this?”

  Erika reached for Dess, but she swatted her hand away. “Don’t.”

  “Jesus, Dess, let me explain. If we give Dayna the rights to that song, which I know is going to be a hit, she’ll cut me loose. Let me out of my contract six months early.” Quietly, she added, “I’ll be free of her. Forever.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. What abo
ut your career?”

  “My career will go on, but in the ways I choose it to. And living out of a suitcase and traveling to so many cities that I can’t even remember where I am is not how I want to live my life. I’m done with that.”

  “But…” Dess couldn’t afford to yield her trust so quickly, to risk Erika changing her mind down the road. “I thought that was what you wanted…I mean, you’re just getting started.”

  Facing her, Erika took Dess’s hands in hers. “I thought it was what I wanted too, until I began to understand some of the realities. And when I realized I couldn’t bear the loss anymore.”

  Dess shook with anticipation. And fear. “What loss?”

  There was unmistakable love in Erika’s smile and something deeper that could only be devotion. Dess’s heart swelled, even as Erika replied, “You, sweetheart. Nothing is worth losing you over. There is nothing else in this world that truly makes me happy. Not the concerts, not the song charts, not the glamor and certainly not the money.”

  “But…are you sure about this? It might mean more of those small festivals like we did last summer. And venues of hundreds of people instead of thousands. It might mean perpetual obscurity. I mean, do you know what you’re giving up?”

  “Yes. I do. I tried it, Dess. And it doesn’t come close to filling my heart. Not the way you do. And there’s more.”

  “There is?”

  Erika’s jaw tightened. “I don’t want to be my parents. I don’t want to be obsessive and single-minded about music to the detriment of everything else. They lost their daughter because of it. But I won’t lose the love of my life because I’m too blinded by my aspirations. I didn’t see that before, but I do now. And I don’t ever want to be like Dayna and Bethany and all the rest of them…so damned lonely and empty inside and miserable. It’s not how I want to live my life, Dess.”

  “Oh, honey.” Tears choked her voice, and she threw herself into Erika’s arms. She could have told Erika all about the price and sacrifices of fame—most of all, the bitter, empty loneliness that made you doubt everything and everyone, including yourself. But hearing those things and coming to know them for yourself are two completely different things, Dess knew.