Enticing Interlude (Tempest #2)

by Mankin, Michelle

  “He’s gets it from me for sure. At his age I had a total obsession with the Beatles. Maybe I have an old soul, but then music speaks to me.”

  “Sure, sport.” Bryan grinned, the muscles on his intricately tatted arms flexing as he moved the pen, adding one more to his long list of admirers.

  I shook the rain water from my hair after kickstanding the Triumph. I’d misjudged the weather. Good thing my guitar case was water repellant. I should’ve taken a cab, but I so preferred to ride. The motorcycle was much better than a car for zipping in and out of Vancouver traffic. Except for when it rained. I pocketed the key, strode quickly through the parking garage, and pushed open the glass door to enter Black Cat Records.

  I was running late. Again.

  “Hey Karen.” I stopped in front of the receptionist desk, rivulets of water rolling down my leather sleeves and onto the gray carpet. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. Pretty quiet today, though. Your sister’s here.”

  “Really?” I hadn’t seen her since she got back from a visit to see my dad on the island. I hadn’t mentioned the Tempest thing to her yet, and didn’t plan to until things were decided.

  “What’s she up to?”

  “She’s in studio twelve.” Karen looked at her computer screen. “The note says she’s supposed to be laying down vocals for her solo album.”

  I nodded. I was curious to hear what she had so far. She was being unusually secretive about the whole deal. I made a mental note to catch up with her later just as Karen’s phone rang.

  “Black Cat Records,” she answered cheerily.

  I tapped the granite surface of the desk and mouthed, “See you later.” The heels of my boots sank into the thick carpeted runner as I turned the corner and entered the long corridor that led to all the recording rooms. I stopped in front of number eight

  Holy hell.

  Everyone was already inside. Good thing it was the largest studio because in addition to Lace and the four remaining members of Tempest, Bridget was there, along with a wide eyed little boy who was tucked close to her side. The physical resemblance left no doubt that they were related.

  The mysterious Carter, no doubt. So she had a little brother.

  His eyes were aquamarine just like hers and his chin length hair the same shade of platinum blonde. There was definitely a wide age gap between the two siblings. I noticed that Bridget was dressed much the same as she’d been yesterday, jeans a size too big, loose button down shirt, no makeup. Yet still incredibly beautiful.

  While I was staring, a smile spread across her face, two dimples peeking out, and she laughed. The musical sound of her laughter hit me like a warmth infused dart square in the center of my chest. The Tempest drummer standing next to her was apparently the cause of her mirth. As King continued to gesticulate wildly, her head went back, and she laughed even harder, waving an arm in front of herself as if appealing for him to stop. That’s when she saw me standing in the doorway. The sparkle in her beautiful eyes extinguished, her mouth closed, and her laughter died. Her cautious veneer returned as she coolly considered me.

  The little boy’s head lifted. He looked up at her and then followed the direction of her gaze. “Who’s that man?”

  “Justin,” she explained. “The one who’s trying out for lead singer today.”

  “The one no one likes.”

  Ah, from the mouths of babes…the unvarnished truth.

  “No kiddo,” she said looking embarrassed. “It’s not that the guys don’t like him, it’s just that they’re not sure he’s the right one for the group.”

  “Sorry, I’m a little late.” I pasted on a confident smile and entered the twenty by fourteen foot space, feeling the heavy weight of a roomful of stares. The rasp of my jacket zipper going down sounded unusually loud. “I’ll be ready to go in just a sec,” I threw out in an effort to break the expectant silence.

  “No problem, man. Take your time.” Dizzy, his bleach blond hair judiciously spiked, joined me in the center of the room offering his usual knuckle bump greeting. “But first let me introduce you to King and Sager.”

  His expression friendly though reserved, the powerhouse drummer threw out his hand. “Juaquin Acenado, but everyone calls me…”

  “King.” The inky haired bassist completed his sentence with a smile that softened the sharp angles of his face considerably. “I’m Sager.”

  I dipped my chin as I shook their hands.

  “Alright, JJ.” Lace’s voice easily carried over from the other side of the room where she stood. “Show these losers what you’ve got.” That made me grin. It was good to have at least one person in the room totally in my corner.

  “Will do, Double L,” I promised, peeling the straps of my backpack like guitar case from my damp shoulders. I set it on a side table and began to undo the latches.

  “It’s pretty wet outside.” Bridget suddenly appeared right beside me. She had a drying cloth in her hand and ran it across the top of my case absorbing the excess moisture. It was a thoughtful thing to do. “I’m sorry about Carter.” She gave me a shy sideways glance from beneath the fringe of her thick lashes, and I let out a quiet sigh, relieved to find out that Carter was her brother, and not her boyfriend. “He’s just five, and doesn’t always understand everything he hears. He’s a good kid though.”

  “No worries.” I reached over and covered her hand with my own. Her skin was silky soft although a little cold. I definitely felt that unmistakable jolt of attraction the instant we connected. I started to move in closer, but she jerked her hand away and stepped back as if I’d burned her.

  “Ok. Good.” She lowered her head, spun around on the soles of her tennis shoes, and walked quickly back to the other side of the room.

  Fine, run away for now, I thought, my eyes watching appreciatively as her hips swayed gracefully in her oversized jeans, but the game was on. I’d have her… eventually.

  When she reached the kid, she knelt down and tickled him under his arms. He giggled in the same easy way she had laughed just moments earlier. Bridget led him to a row of folding chairs that had been set up on the opposite side of the room from where the band’s equipment was situated.

  “Let’s get going.”

  I turned with the neck of my guitar in hand to find Bryan giving me an impatient look. My lips flattened. I was getting a little tired of this guy’s attitude toward me. I nodded throwing the guitar strap over my shoulder and snapping my Hummingbird into position. I otherwise ignored Bryan, a bit of a snub since he was clearly in charge, making eye contact with Dizzy instead. “I wanna warm up with ‘Blackbird’. Would you be ok following me?”

  “Sure, man.”

  I gave him a head nod and immediately launched into the well-known Beatles acoustic number. It was a song most musicians cut their teeth on as adolescents. Dizzy complemented me well and seemed to be enjoying playing the familiar melody as much as I did. I certainly loved singing it.

  The soundproofed room was completely silent when we finished.

  I lifted my gaze from my instrument. Lace was beaming proudly. Carter was bouncing on his chair and Bridget was frowning again.

  What was it with her?

  Why the flip flopping from open and sweet to this closed off cold routine? I knew she had to feel the attraction between us. Not only that, but chicks always dug it when I sang. That was a given. Back when Avery and I used to perform together, they would line up for me outside the dressing room door.

  “That’s your favorite song!” Carter exclaimed tugging on Bridget’s arm and breaking the awkward silence.

  Interesting.

  Brows up, my eyes went to hers. I enjoyed the fact that even eye contact with me appeared to fluster her and anticipated there being major sparks when we finally came together and I had my mouth on hers. And I would. Soon. But for now I needed to get my head, the thinking one, back into this tryout. I really wanted this job.

  I shifted my attention to Tempest’s lead guitarist. “Br
yan, I heard you’re a GNR fan.”

  Bryan swung his gaze to Lace.

  “What?” She gave an exaggerated shrug. “Don’t give me that look Bryan Hunter Jackson. Lighten up. Justin does a version of ‘Nighttrain’ that’ll knock your boots off.” She arched a sassy brow. “And you know you love any excuse to break into a Slash solo.”

  Bryan’s lip twitched. He turned from her and gave me a chin dip. Then he swiveled to face the drummer. King hit the muted cowbell four times and on the fifth, Bryan came in with the catchy opening riff. They began the metal intro perfectly in sync. Too good. They’d obviously played it more than a few times. The gauntlet had been thrown down. I’d better make this special.

  I screeched out the loaded lyrics that were a veiled homage to the cheap liquor that had been all the GNR guys had been able to afford back when they were just starting out in LA. I let Dizzy do all the rhythm work on his guitar and focused on channeling my inner bad boy persona into the lead vocals without going too over the top. By the time Dizzy and Bryan harmonized with me on the chorus, I knew.

  I was in.

  I could see the look of grudging respect on Bryan’s face, but I didn’t need to. I could feel it. The synergy was palpable. I’d heard about it being that way when the personnel was just right in a group, but I’d never experienced it for myself at this kind of level.

  It was electric. These guys were the bona fide real rocker deal. Sure I’d seen them perform at the Garden in New York, but this was entirely different. I had been in the audience then, now I was a part of it. This was no prepackaged band assembled to appeal to the masses. This was an organic movement. Tempest was an edgy group and they radiated a raw energy that was impressive to witness and addictive to be a part of.

  I immediately wanted to try one of their songs. “’My Way or the Highway’.” I turned to King. “Call it out for us, man.”

  One minute I’d been seated on one side of the room, the next thing I knew I was standing in front of Dizzy on the other. I honestly couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there.

  But my eyes were still riveted on him.

  I knew I was staring but I just couldn’t seem to make myself stop.

  I was totally focused. Artists like him were the reason I loved music. I was fascinated by the culture of it all: the songwriting, the inspiration that went into it, the angst that surrounded it, the passion to communicate through notes and lyrics. That’s what he’d just done. That’s what I’d just heard. It’d been like he’d reached right out and grabbed me.

  By the time he’d finished I was thinking Paul who?

  As a preteen, I’d been obsessed with the Beatles, I even wished I had lived in the sixties so I could’ve seen them perform, and of course so I could’ve dated Paul McCartney. But at this very moment I couldn’t have been more happy to be in the here and now.

  That song was my favorite. But I’d never heard anyone sing it better.

  I’d been up most of the night thinking about Justin Jones. Listing all the reasons why I should stay far away from him. But while he’d played, I’d only been thinking about getting closer. I’d wanted to smooth the lazy lock of auburn hair off his forehead and press my lips to the skin underneath. And the way his narrow hips had subtly swayed in time with the rhythm had created a lure that hooked me. I’d gripped the cold metal seat of my chair to keep from joining him in that sexy shuffle.

  Justin had the perfect body, leanly muscular, but not overly bulky. His looks were indisputably enticing. But not his voice! Sweet mother of all that is good, that voice was off the chain, total insanity! Especially when he’d crooned the lyrics to “Blackbird.” So smooth. As if it were possible to take the richest, creamiest hot chocolate you’d ever tasted and somehow convert that decadence into sound.

  Yeah, that good.

  Sager, King, and Bryan had surrounded him now, deep in negotiation. Sensing my eyes on him, he looked over at me. The force of his gaze sent aftershocks rippling throughout every part of my body. I’d never been this attracted to a guy, not even Richard.

  My skin felt as though it was on fire, and I wanted Justin to be the one to put out the flames. Or maybe even stoke them higher. He must have been able to read my desire because his lids lowered and his green eyes blazed back at me from across the room.

  “Mommy.”

  I don’t think anyone but my son could’ve torn my attention away from Justin in that moment. “Huh?” was my barely coherent response as I peered down at him.

  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “Sure, baby.” My hand visibly trembled as I wrapped my fingers around his.

  Thank God for Carter.

  I’d lost track of the number of times I’d forced myself to keep going, slogging forward against raging rivers of horrible shit just for him. I loved him with every fiber of my being and I’d never regretted him. Not once.

  But I’d foolishly lost track of that and of what was really important for a moment. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t allow that to happen again.

  Carter tugged on my arm. I led him out of the studio, carefully taking the widest path around Justin toward the restrooms. When you are a single mom with a five year old these are one of the many things that it’s important to take note of.

  As was our drill, I had him go into the men’s room alone while I stayed in the hall within shouting distance right outside the door.

  “It’s ok, Mommy.” His voice drifted out to me. “No one’s even in here.”

  “Ok. Good. I’ll be waiting for you right outside.”

  I knew Justin was behind me before he even spoke. He had a powerful aura like an intense magnetic field that helplessly drew me toward him. I dug my soles into the carpet in a futile attempt to resist it.

  “He’s a cute kid.” Justin’s voice was low, deep and delicious almost as good as it was when he was singing.

  “Thank you. I think so too.”

  “I feel a little foolish.” He stopped, looking uneasy. “I mean I heard him call you Mommy just now. I thought when I first saw him...” he stumbled and I helped him out. I’d had enough of these types of questions to overflow a landfill.

  “That he was my little brother? You’re not the first to make that mistake.” My tone was more acidic than usual. I should have been immune to it by now. After all, I’d had years of this kind of stuff thrown in my face. Why should I give a shit about the disapproval of a man who just wanted to make me his latest conquest? But I did and unfortunately that hurt sliced deeper than I ever could have imagined. “I had Carter right before I turned sixteen. So yeah, I was that kind of girl. His father didn’t want anything to do with me once he found out that I was pregnant. Which is really a blessing in disguise because whenever he does come around now Richard is mean and threatening and scares Carter.” I felt the sharp, angry sting of tears behind my eyes. I’d said more than I’d meant to, but I lifted my chin, daring him to go ahead and judge me. “My son is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He’s mine, and I love him.”

  Unexpectedly, Justin’s expression softened. “I can see that.” His gaze was warm on my face, the color of his eyes making me think of a forested glen that I found myself wanting to take shelter in. “You’re beautiful together.”

  My eyes watered some more, but this time with a much gentler emotion.

  Condemnation? Sure, I got plenty of that. But not once had anyone said anything even as remotely sweet and affirming as that about me and Carter.

  Damn.

  I’d just managed to blink Justin back into focus when Carter came out of the restroom, drying his hands on his jeans. He stopped abruptly when he saw Justin, the bathroom door popping him on the rear. He stumbled forward and his mouth spread into a radiant smile. “You… were… awesome!” he exclaimed with exuberant enthusiasm. “Could you teach me to play ‘Blackbird’ like you just did? It’s my mom’s favorite.”

  “That’s what I hear.” Justin chuckled as he knelt down putting himself on eye level with my
son. “I’d be glad to do that, and then maybe the three of us could go out for pizza after.”

  The sneaky bastard was using my son to get me to go out with him.

  Suddenly what I could and wouldn’t allow started to be less defined, and it didn’t take psychic ability to know that spelled trouble for me.

  “How’s Dad?” I asked my sister.

  Avery held up a finger finishing the humungous bite of Japa Dog she’d just stuffed inside her mouth. A dribble of cheese escaped and dripped down her chin.

  I handed her a napkin and pointed out the location of the drip. My sister was crazy about Japa Dog’s cheese stuffed hot dogs. Marcus, not so much. It was an unspoken understanding between the two of us that whenever we had an opportunity to meet for lunch we headed for the street corner vendor so she could get her fix.

  “He’s better I think.” Our father had been living with Marcus’ parents out on their Vancouver Island water buffalo farm since we’d discovered that he was suffering from end stage liver failure.

  Avery looked away, staring out at the crowded sidewalk. We were seated at one of the indoor tables in the glass enclosed lobby of First Bank. The Kitsilano neighborhood we looked out upon was known for its patio restaurants and eclectic one of a kind shops, but we’d chosen to eat inside because even with a ball cap and sunglasses my sister was too famous to escape notice out on the street. “The last setback he had while we were in Atlanta really scared me. I’m afraid he might not make it to his scheduled transplant date.”

  “He will. He’ll be alright. Traveling to New York was just too much for him. He’s promised to take it easy from here on out.” My eyes settled on hers. “I’ve got some good news I think will cheer you up.”

  “What?” She crumpled up the napkin, placing it on the metal mesh table top along with the empty cardboard hot dog holder, and leaned forward expectantly.

  “You’re looking at the new lead singer of Tempest,” I announced proudly.

  One auburn brow went up, skeptically. “I thought you were doing studio stuff with Lace.” Her lips puckered on Lace’s name as if she’d tasted something sour. The animosity between the two of them definitely went both ways, though I really didn’t get where it was coming from on my sister’s side. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jus.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “After all you were the one who warned me to stay away from them before the first stop of the tour.”