“Will you guys hurry up?!”
Garrett and Parker turned to look at the voice that shouted down to them from the top of the stairs that led down to the beach.
Parker laughed at the sight of Olivia standing at the top with her hands on her hips and her foot tapping in irritation.
Unbeknownst to Parker, Garrett had called Olivia the next morning from Joe’s house to thank her again for helping him and to let her know how Parker was doing. One hour later, Olivia called Parker, using the number Garrett had kindly given her, and demanded to know why Parker never called to update her after she got settled in. Parker had held the phone an inch away from her ear while Olivia raged, shooting Garrett dirty looks from across the room.
From that moment on, Parker reluctantly agreed that maybe she could use a friend like Olivia―someone who was blunt, honest, and would kick the ass of anyone who hurt her friend. Olivia came to California for a visit two weeks later, and like Parker so many years before, she fell in love with the beach and the warm weather.
Her nursing residency was finishing up soon at George Washington University Hospital, and then she would have her choice of hospitals to work with. Olivia decided after two days that she would continue her career UC San Diego Health System.
She refused to admit that part of her decision was based on the gorgeous, blond, Navy SEAL with a southern accent that charmed the pants off of her, literally, the night they’d met at a dinner at Garrett’s house. Although after six months of dating, Olivia couldn’t really deny the fact that Cole was one of the main reasons she was so happy living in California, just a few minutes down the street from Garrett and Parker.
“Seriously, guys, Parker still needs to shower the sand off of her and get dressed. The minister I booked isn’t going to wait all night to marry you two,” Olivia yelled before stomping off.
“Tell me again why I let her plan our wedding?” Parker asked with a laugh.
“Because she would have kicked both of our asses if we didn’t let her. That woman scares me,” Garrett said as he handed his still-sleeping daughter over to her mother.
Annie rested her head on Parker’s shoulder, never once waking up as Parker held her close and wrapped her free arm around Garrett’s waist. They made their way across the sand to the steps before Olivia came back and scolded them again.
Garrett and Parker, while knowing for quite some time they wanted to get married, decided to wait until their daughter arrived to make it official. Olivia made them wait three more months so she could make everything “perfect”. Even though their wedding would only be attended by a small handful of friends and Garrett’s parents, Olivia still required some planning time.
When they got to the top of the stairs and the path that would lead them to the new house they moved into six month earlier, Parker couldn’t believe what Olivia had accomplished in the small handful of hours she’d been down on the beach taking pictures. Their house had been transformed into something out of a bridal magazine. White lights hung from every tree and candles lined every walkway. An archway of white flowers waited for them at the edge of the hill overlooking the ocean where they would soon stand and vow to love each other for the rest of their lives.
Garrett’s mother walked up to them and scooped Annie out of Parker’s arms.
“I’ll take that beautiful granddaughter of mine now so you two can go get cleaned up,” she said with a smile before placing a kiss on Garrett and Parker’s cheeks and then walking away.
Garrett watched her walk with Annie over to his father before turning to Parker and pulling her up against him.
“Are you ready to become Mrs. McCarthy?” Garrett asked Parker playfully.
“I’ve been ready since the day I met you,” Parker told him as she stood on her tip toes and placed a kiss on his lips.
Garrett always wondered if he was given the chance to go back, tell the truth instead of lie, and change the way he and Parker started out…would he take that chance?
In that moment, standing by the ocean with the love of his life in his arms, surrounded by family and friends, he finally knew the answer to that question.
All of the pain, all of the longing and regrets, every single moment was worth it in the end. If he made different choices back then, if he’d told the truth and made her his, they might not be where they were right now.
If Garrett had made other decisions, he might not be marrying his best friend, he might not be the father of a beautiful little girl, and he might not be the happiest man in the world.
Garrett realized in that moment it was time to say goodbye to the past and the beautiful lies he’d told and say hello to his future.
By
Michelle Mankin
Love Revolution
Book Two of
The Black Cat Record’s
Shakespeare Inspired Series
Copyright © 2012 by Michelle Mankin
Cover created by Okay Creations
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
To all the country musicians who rock the house…
Revolution (rev-uh -loo-shuh n) n. A fundamental change in the way of thinking about or visualizing something.
A flashing blue and red light pattern illuminated Sara’s pale blood spattered face. She wanted to crawl away and hide from its revealing glow. The continuous flickering magnified the splitting headache behind her red-rimmed eyes. Even at one AM, the Texas night air remained stifling and oppressive, adding another layer of discomfort to her battered body.
A fine sheen of perspiration coated the exposed surface of her skin. Inside she felt numb, detached from the reality around her. She closed her eyes, wishing to be anywhere but here. Unfortunately, no amount of wishing could fix what had happened tonight. Nothing could. Nor would the present veil of darkness conceal for long the unspeakable evil that had taken place inside of her parents’ bedroom this night.
A sudden gust of warm wind rustled against the thin fabric of Sara’s white nightgown. Feeling a tremor in the tiny hand threaded together with hers, she glanced down at the cherub face of her younger sister, Samantha. The beautiful trusting grey eyes that looked back up at her were wide and brimming with tears. That small hand anchored her in place, while every other instinct screamed at her to run away and escape this nightmare.
Her body began to shake with the effort it took to keep from falling apart. Insanity clawed and butted like a ravenous beast against the thin barrier of her self- control. Wanting to take over. Wanting her to let go and give in.
Over the years as her parents’ tumultuous relationship had deteriorated, more and more of the responsibility for Sam’s upbringing had fallen to Sara. She didn’t mind. She loved her four year old sister to distraction. Adorable as an old fashioned Kewpie doll with her round, ringlet-framed face, Sam also had a sweet innocent spirit that won over everyone she met.
Sara’s head jerked up. The sound of her father’s loud, protesting voice reached her ears. He was handcuffed, and being escorted by two police officers out of the termite infested house they’d been living in for the past six months. He stumbled clumsily on drunken legs as he descended the dilapidated front porch steps. With bloodshot eyes, he scanned the weed infested trash strewn front yard until he found her.
His eyes narrowed, and he lunged in her d
irection before being yanked back.
Slurred words spewed from his vile lying mouth. “She had it coming. Sara, honey. Tell ‘em. She brought it on herself.”
Anger hardened her gaze. The audacity of the man, always rationalizing. But no amount of words could justify this. Straightening her spine, Sara gripped Samantha’s hand tighter and turned away.
“Don’t turn your back on me, you wretched, ungrateful child. I’ll wring your worthless scrawny neck. Your momma was a whore, Sara. You know as well as I do!” he yelled before pausing and gentling his tone. “Sara… please, Sweetie. Look at your Papa.”
Never look weak. Never show fear. Sara repeated her coping mantra to herself before responding. Warily, she glanced over her shoulder and watched the cops drag him toward the waiting squad car.
“You’re gonna have to stand up for me soon, Sara. Don’t be like her. Do what’s right when the time comes,” he implored before the cop shoved his head down and pushed him into the back seat.
After the cruiser door closed, Sara sucked in a deep breath of the dank night air. It was finally over. “It’s ok, Sam. He’s gone. We’re safe.” She knelt down and the dry grass crunched underneath her weight. She wrapped her arms tightly around her sister’s delicate frame.
Sam sighed and sagged in her embrace.
“He’ll never be able to hurt us again,” she whispered into Sam’s ear, closing her eyes. Her momma’s image ghosted into her mind along with the labored last words she’d spoken.
“Promise me you’ll always take care of your sister.”
Sara Daniels walked offstage after the encore, taking the chilled bottled water and a hand towel from her manager’s outstretched hands. Lifting her straight light brown hair up off her sweaty neck, she blotted away the moisture.
“Sold out venue again, girl. Preliminary numbers on merchandise looks to double the ticket take, easily. How you holding up?”
“Good Leann.” Sara managed a weary smile. “Just worn out. Wanna get a shower and unwind, you know?” Patting her manager on the shoulder, she started to walk away.
“Not so fast.”
Sara froze and turned back around. “What?” she groaned. “What is it? Not another meet and greet. Leann, please.”
“No.” Leann’s brow furrowed. “Mary Timmons is here and wants to talk to you.”
“Oh, crap.” She should have made it a priority to return those calls. Mary Timmons, the high powered no nonsense CEO and owner of Black Cat Records, was not a woman to keep waiting. Sara had hoped to get through tonight’s performance before having to deal with her. Well, now it was time to face the music. “Where is she?”
“In your dressing room.” Leann raised a brow. “She’s everything they say, isn’t she?”
“No doubt,” Sara nodded.
“Good luck with that,” she said, walking away with a parting wave over her shoulder.
“Yeah, thanks,” Sara said, mumbling to herself. “I’m gonna need it.”
Sara’s boots clapped against the tiled floor as she wound her way through the confusing maze of dimly lit cinderblock corridors following the signs put up by the road crew. Nodding to the security guard outside her door, she entered her temporary dressing room almost knocking Mary over. The beautiful, petite exec had been standing near the door, deep in conversation, her ever present cell phone pressed against her ear.
“Ok, Beth, make it happen. Hey, I gotta go. Sara’s here. I’ll talk to you later.” Mary ended the call, dropping her cell into a brief case before pinning Sara with a disapproving look. “You haven’t been returning my calls.”
It was a statement, not a question, but it clearly demanded a response. Although only in her mid-forties, Mary’s maternal tone made Sara swallow nervously. She felt garish and underdressed in her black leather vest and rhinestone embellished Miss Me jeans juxtaposed against the well put together Black Cat exec. Impeccable in a flatteringly tailored eggplant suit with matching five inch platform pumps, Mary was every single inch the unruffled professional, looking as though she’d just bounded off the cover of a business magazine. She gave Sara herself a run for the money in the confidence exuding, don’t-mess-with-me category.
Sara couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about Mary that made her feel like a peasant in the presence of royalty, but she did nevertheless. Sara gave herself a mental shake. Snap the hell out of it. She was no easily intimidated newbie after all. She was Sara Daniels. Thirty-two years old and at the top of her game as country and western’s top grossing female singer… the past five years in a row. Yet still, underneath the pressure of Mary’s haughty gaze, she somehow found herself rushing to apologize. “I’m sorry, Mary. I planned to…”
Mary cut her off with a dismissive wave. “I’m calling in the favor you owe me.”
Hell. She didn’t waste any time, did she? Forget royalty, being in debt to Mary was like owing the devil himself. You sure as hell knew she was going to collect. “Okay,” she drew out. “I’ve got a two week break, starting tomorrow. What can I do for you?”
All business, Mary crisply nodded and handed her an envelope. Sara took it while glancing back at her with raised brows.
“That’s a first class seat nonstop to Vancouver at ten thirty tonight. You’re sitting next to me.” She spun regally on her royal heel and glided away without any further explanation. The sound of her pumps clacking on the concrete flooring kept time as “Hail to the Chief” played in Sara’s head.
“Wait a minute. Tonight?” Sara protested. “I can’t just up and leave that quickly. I need to clear that with my staff. ”
“I’ve already spoken to Leann.” Mary stopped with her hand on the door. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to get cleaned up and change. I’ll tell you what I have in mind en route to the airport.”
At Black Cat, Chris Alex stopped in the studio doorway and stared at the woman inside. Holy hell. Mary had failed to mention that this country and western chick she was bringing in to sing on his album was smoking hot. Leaning his shoulders back against the doorframe, his gaze raked over her form. The corner of his mouth lifted in silent appreciation. She was tall, around his height, maybe a couple of inches shorter. Probably five foot ten if he wasn’t mistaken. Long, extremely well shaped legs were accentuated by skin tight denim. Boobs weren’t anything to write home about, but big enough to make him wonder what they would feel like cupped in his hands. They more than adequately filled out the form fitting red western shirt she had on. Meh, he was a leg man anyway.
His pulse kicked up as he took in additional details about the southern goddess standing in front of him. Light brown hair with highlights that were almost blonde hung straight and long around her sun kissed face. Her lips were light pink and glossed up. He wondered how they tasted.
Apparently sensing his perusal, she glanced up from her cell phone, and he looked into smoky grey eyes that were the most beautiful he’d ever seen. A jolt of desire hit him like a lightning bolt. The world seemed to shrink and magnify in that moment. Her eyes widened slightly before she blinked and flipped her hair over her shoulder.
Shrugging himself out of whatever the hell that had been, Chris sauntered into the room past her and set his guitar case down on one of the stools. While undoing the latches, he tried to sneak a peek at her ass. Just as he was imagining grabbing it, she turned in his direction and leveled him with a steely, disdainful stare.
Maybe this chick didn’t realize who she was dealing with. His brow rose. Obviously, introductions were in order. “Hey, babe. I’m Chris…”
“I know who you are.” She cut him off with a husky boudoir voice that literally gave him a chill it was so damn sexy. “Shelve the come on. I’m not interested. The name’s Sara Daniels.” She said her name like it should mean something to him. “And I’m not your babe or anyone else’s.”
“Fine,” he replied, sarcastically. Something inside of him immediately rose to the challenge of her confrontational attitude. He continued to hold her stare, care
fully formulating his next words. “Sweetheart, I don’t recall saying I was interested. Barbed tongued old harpies like you are not my type.”
Sara stiffened, back going ramrod straight. No one could ever talk to her like that, especially a guy who had just mentally undressed her. The longest line at Wal-Mart during black Friday was shorter than the amount of time he’d been checking her out. Arrogant ass. Well ok, if that’s the way he wanted to play. “Old huh? Take a look in the mirror, you geezer. You’re the one who needs help getting your motorized wheel chaired carcass back in the game.”
“Hey wait a minute, witch. I’m not the one who asked you to come here. I don’t need this kinda crap from you or anyone.” He pointed. “There’s the door. Why don’t you hop back on your broom and fly back to your double wide mobile home lair?”
“You, you, arrogant ingrate,” she sputtered.
Turning his back, Chris bent over and picked up his guitar case. He was about fifty shades of pissed off now. When he turned around to face her, she jumped and her gaze popped back up. A telling rosy color stained her cheeks and her lips were parted. Well, well, isn’t this an interesting development, Chris thought, cocking his head. He’d bet good money that she’d totally been checking out his ass. Hmmm, what to do with that.
Kiss Kiss Page 114