When he stopped playing, I opened my eyes to find him staring at me. His chair creaked as he leaned forward. He brushed a loose wisp of hair behind my ear. My heart raced as I stared into his eyes. I spoke to fill the hush, to cover the longings that I shouldn’t feel. “Is music still a priority to you?”
“I’m passionate about it if that’s what you’re asking. It makes me happy to play. It’s a lot like you and the surfing. It fulfills something inside of me. I like writing songs. And the performing’s a definite rush. I hope we can figure things out as a band so I can continue to make my living doing something I love.”
“Dominic and you both started out playing together before Linc and Ash came along, right?”
He nodded. “My pop bought me a guitar after I caught mono. I was stuck at home and bored. He gave me a couple of his old Aerosmith records to listen to. He’d seen them live once. He thought Joe Perry was so cool. So I listened and I got hooked. That connection over music became a bridge for me and him during a time when things were rough between us because of my mom. I like to think maybe what I’m doing with the Dogs can do that for someone else going through similar stuff.”
“I believe it will,” I whispered, feeling a little breathless from the rare glimpse into his psyche that he had shared with me.
• • •
As the weeks wore on, life settled into a routine. My faith in my marriage wasn’t where it needed to be, but I was more accepting about it because of Ramon’s support. I still worked forty plus hours a week at the surf shop. I still had dinner at Ramon’s dad’s house very Sunday. I still had my weekly call from overseas if I was lucky. But my mornings alone with Ramon quickly became the barometer of each day. He challenged me to try new things on the water and out of it, praising me for each step I took to carve some fun outside of work and surfing, for instance renewing my friendship with Simone.
“So Simone’s second year at SDSU is going well?” Ramon asked from beside me on the wall. He took the last bite out of the breakfast burrito I had picked up for him at Neto’s on the way to the pier.
“Yeah.” I took a bottled water out of the cooler and uncapped it. “But her course load is heavy. She won’t even consider dating…” I trailed off.
“Go ahead. Don’t censor on my account. I never took sides in that mess between her, Linc and Ash. It’s tough. I certainly wish things had turned out differently considering that no one ended up happy.”
“Yeah, life often takes turns we don’t expect, and drugs and alcohol just mask the problems, they don’t solve them.”
He narrowed his eyes. I don’t think he appreciated my not so subtle fishing attempt. I wasn’t entirely sure that he was free of the vices I had seen him indulge in on the road, but if he was continuing to partake of them he hid it well.
“Simone is doing alright from what I can tell. She didn’t get the lead in the upcoming musical, but she got a part. With theater practice and her studies, she stays busy which is good for her.”
“I bet you talking to her helps a lot, too. I’m glad you reached out to her.”
“Only because you encouraged me to.”
“Friendships are meant to help you keep your head above the waves when life gets rough, right? But you gotta keep those lines of communication open so they can be there for you when you need them.”
“I know. I let a distance come between her and me when I went out on the road with the band. It was easier with all of the tension around Linc and Ash, but not better. She’s a good friend. So are you. Thanks for spending so much time with me. I know you have better things to do.” I glanced away. I didn’t want him to see the stupid tears that came into my eyes. The strain of my long-distance marriage coupled with all of the long, lonely nights in an empty bed had me entirely too emotional lately.
“You’re wrong. I’ve got nothing better to do. The best part of my day is spending time with you.” His voice was low, yet it carried over the wind that was currently chopping up the Pacific in front of us. The waves were so tall they were crashing over the pier. I turned to look at him. His gaze was steady and sincere.
“I feel the same way,” I admitted, my focus stalling on him, like it often did. On his board he was a showoff, but a mesmerizing one just like he was on stage. On shore, his wet suit unzipped and folded over his waist, he was sexier than any of the models in the surf catalogs. Bronze skin and toned muscle beckoned for more than just my gaze to trace them. I snuffed that forbidden thought, lifting my eyes to his face. The offshore wind blew the ebony curls out of his eyes, but they had gotten too long, often getting stuck on the dense stubble on his jaw. He needed a trim and a shave. But the kindness and caring evident in his eyes made me notice things I shouldn’t notice, and imagine things that I shouldn’t about him. I reached for an errant curl that had drifted toward his mouth. “I wish…”
“Karen.” The way he intoned my name silenced my voice at the same time that it seemed to validate my secret longings. He lowered his head closer to mine. I wet my lips spellbound by the intense smolder in his eyes. He dipped his gaze to them, then jerked backward abruptly, groaning as if he were in physical pain. “What are you doing?” He captured my hand by the wrist.
“Nothing…I…wasn’t doing anything. I just…your hair was stuck…and I…” Mortified, I tried to tug my hand free, but his grip only tightened.
“Settle, surfer girl. It’s alright. I thought…I wanted…” His voice was a deep rasp. My unfurled hopes faltered, the wind behind them flagging. “What I mean is feel free to straighten my hair any time it gets in the way.” His eyes lifted meeting mine again. “Alright?”
“Ok.” I nodded. “Same for me.” My chest was tight. I felt like the breath had been knocked out of me.
“Good. ‘Cause you’ve got a rat’s nest thing going on with yours right now.” His tone lightened. “It’s driving me crazy.” He released my wrist and attempted to tuck a couple of loose strands back into my braid. “I’m sorry,” he apologized as they only slid back out. “I think I’m only making matters worse. The whole thing seems to be beyond my capability to repair.” His eyes were a darker, more imploring shade of brown than usual and I knew that we weren’t just talking about my hair anymore.
“It’s ok. I can take care of it. I’ve got some detangler and a comb at the shop.” In other words, nothing almost happened, and even if it did, we never ought to speak of it again.
“Good. I admire your self-sufficiency. I always have.” He leaned back, returning his darkened gaze to the ocean. “I’m gonna miss this.”
“Miss what?”
He swept his arm wide. “Surfing. The ocean. OB.” He turned back to me. “You.”
I brought in a quick breath. “You’re leaving?” I rasped. “When?”
“Today,” he replied somberly, and my heart sank.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Those stupid tears reappeared.
“I didn’t want my leaving to be hanging over us today.” He stroked the back of his hand down my cheek. I resisted leaning into the gentle caress. “I’m sorry. The guys have been hounding me for weeks to get my ass up to San Francisco.”
“I understand.” His face was so close I could see the darker pixels of brown in his eyes, and I knew he could see the sheen of fresh tears in mine.
“Don’t cry, Karen. Not for me.”
“I’m not.” I pulled in an unsteady breath. “These are happy tears. I’m relieved. You’ve been a pain in my ass. I’m glad to know I can finally have the whole damn ocean to myself again. I’m glad to be rid of you.”
“Little liar.” He caught the first tear that spilled down my cheek. “I’ll call you every day,” he said softly.
“You won’t. And you really don’t need to. I’ll be fine.”
“I won’t be. You know all the band drama will drive me bat shit crazy. And Morris isn’t helping with the ridiculous deadlines he’s setting. It’s a lot to ask. It will be a lot of work to keep the lines of communication open
between us, but I know you. You’re solid, steady and a true friend. You would never let someone down if they really needed you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
* * *
Ramon - January 2004
“I’m not paying for this.” I let the room service guy in. My bleary eyes narrowed when I turned back and scanned the interior of the lavishly decorated penthouse. The Dogs had finally hit it with our third album. Each song Zenith released from it had vaulted up the charts. Headliners on our own tour, we stayed in the fanciest hotels and flew to each new city on the company jet. We had VIPs offering us all kinds of expensive shit for free at the meet and greets. We had our pick of the women; one, two, three, hell, however many we wanted. And whatever we wanted them to do, they did it—eagerly. “Who ordered all the extra food and champagne?” I complained, holding my half-buttoned jeans up with one hand while draping my arm around the naked blonde with the huge rack that I had just come all over earlier.
“Not me,” Ash replied. He laid on the leather sectional toying with the tits of the brunette on his lap. She was totally out of it, her eyes glazed and bleary. She didn’t seem to notice that though the Dirt Dogs’ drummer was fondling her, his focus was actually elsewhere.
Linc didn’t answer when I shot an investigative glance his way. He was higher than Ash and me put together, his attention divided between the two girls putting on a show by the piano and another one he was fucking up against the wall.
Diesel had gone to his own room hours ago. The guy was a decent bassist, but the perks of stardom seemed to be totally lost on him.
I slapped the blonde I was already bored with on her ass, sending her away. I grabbed a couple of the flutes the wide-eyed delivery guy had somehow managed to fill with champagne and stumbled over to the sectional. Dropping down beside Ash, I offered him one of the glasses. It was only half full now. I had spilled the rest.
“Thanks, dude.” He took a sip and dipped his gaze toward the brunette. “You want her?” He arched a platinum brow.
“Nah.” I shook my head, drank some champagne and surveyed the room again, spent and disaffected. The more women I fucked, the more irritated I became. I didn’t like the feeling. But I didn’t dare delve too far into the reasons for my dissatisfaction. I slid out my cell, checked my text log and frowned. Karen was taking forever to reply. What was she doing? It was late, and Dominic was still overseas.
“You alright?” Ash asked me, noting my frown after he shooed his own chick away.
“Fantastic,” I lied. “Who do you think sent the champagne?”
“Probably Zenith. Morris wants us happy. I think he’d rather we drink the champagne than do the other shit.”
“You’re probably right. He give you the same warning he gave me?”
“Yeah.” He nodded.
“He also mentioned something about bringing in a new manager to keep us in line.” Deep down where I didn’t like to acknowledge things, like how much I missed a certain golden eyed California girl, I thought that a manager might actually be a good idea. None of us seemed capable of restraint and sometimes I worried that our dysfunction might be too deep to remedy, even for Morris with all of his power and connections.
“Morris was pissed about the Omni.” Ash’s lips curved. “He didn’t appreciate us trashing those rooms.”
“We didn’t trash them. We only redecorated a bit,” I clarified, forming a smile.
His grin widened. “That thing with the stacked television sets and ice buckets was genius. I…” He trailed off as the woman with Linc started chanting his name, in the throes apparently. Sometimes, I got the idea a lot of the women just faked it. After all, most of them didn’t really give a shit about us, either. They just wanted to brag about bagging a rock star. Our lead singer groaned a moment later and pulled out. I glanced away. I wasn’t really into watching, but I wasn’t surprised to discover that Ash was still staring in his cousin’s direction. We were together nine months out of the year. There weren’t many secrets between us. We all knew Ash was a voyeur and that he swung both ways depending on his mood.
“You ever gonna say anything to him?” I said low, watching Ash follow Linc with his gaze.
“What?” He turned back to me, his eyes focused, and I realized he was a lot less out of it than I had assumed. “You ever gonna say anything to Karen?” he rephrased pointedly.
I froze solid, shook my head and put my cell away. Was it really that obvious? “She’s off limits,” I managed.
“So is he. Life ain’t fuckin fair.” Ash drained his champagne, slammed the empty on the marble coffee table top and hit me with a knowing look. “So we both settle for what’s available, right?”
• • •
Karen
I was out of breath when I arrived at the pier. “Ramon,” I yelled, spotting him. He stopped in the surf, board under his arm like mine was as he turned to the sound of my voice. “Wait for me.” I splashed through the shallows and caught up to him where he stood in the waist deep water.
“I wasn’t expecting you. With Patch home, I mean.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It seemed the same here in real life as it did in the photos and videos that had to suffice while he was away on the road.
“He’s not interested in surfing anymore,” I explained. Not much interested in me, either. The changes Dominic had undergone in the war were etched into his psyche now. His sense of duty and honor I admired, but not his growing cynicism and emotional distance. “He went to the gym with his dad.” He wasn’t interested in sitting around and talking to me. He didn’t see the point in it. “Is it ok that I’m here? Is someone else joining you? That girl from the Deck Bar?” One of many I saw linked to him in the entertainment magazines.
“No one’s joining me.” He frowned at me as if incredulous that I would think such a thing. Did he consider this spot ours, the way I did? “And of course I don’t mind. You just surprised me.” His gaze intently focused on mine, he reached for a strand of loose hair that the wind blew across my lips, a familiar gesture. He withdrew his hand at the last moment and glanced away. “How is Patch doing?”
“He’s ok. But why ask me? I thought you talked to him at the bar last night?”
“Not really. We don’t seem to have much in common anymore. He hardly said more than two words to me, surfer girl.”
He hardly says more than that to me, either, I thought. I felt like I was a disappointment to him. The more I tried to show him how much I cared, the more I tried to tell him how much I missed him, the more he seemed to withdraw from me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I could tell that the distance between them bothered Ramon. It bothered me, too. It seemed to be a symptom of a much deeper problem with Dominic. But I didn’t share. Since that day on the beach, since that misunderstanding on my part, I was more careful with Ramon.
“It’s not your fault. He just seems…changed.”
“He is. I mean how can he not be, right? He doesn’t talk a lot about it.” There was his life in the military and his life in OB. He seemed to want to keep them completely separate. “But then it’s all there, all the awful stuff in the news.” I could read between the lines of his infrequent emails. What he left unsaid. But when he came home, he brought the conflicts with him. He wore them like a uniform, like armor I couldn’t penetrate. It comforted him to have regimentation. Even as it pertained to our relationship. Things had to be strictly spelled out. What we could talk about. What we didn’t. He made the decisions. He had all the authority. But what put him at ease built a wall between us. He felt further away even when he was home. “A couple of suicide bombers have gotten pretty close to his base.” It was my turn to look away. I glanced at the turbulent surface of the Pacific. “I told him the extra pay isn’t worth the risk, but I don’t think he cares.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ramon did touch me this time. A strand was tucked. His fingertips skimmed the shell of my ear. His gaze was now as tempestuous as my own.
“It’s not your fault,” I whispered, giving him the same absolution he had granted me a moment before. He glided his knuckles down my cheek, his thumb grazing the outer corner of my lips. My heart sped up, but I had buried that particular longing so deep I didn’t think that even Ramon with his talent for observation could ever see it. “My happiness isn’t your responsibility. And I don’t want you to worry about him, either. We’ll be ok. You have enough things going on right now.”
“You say that a lot. That you’re always ok. I’m not sure if that’s the truth.” He turned the nose of his board to the ground and came closer, reaching for and cradling the back of my head with his hand. “If you ever need me, you know I’ll come. All you have to do is call me. You know this, right?”
“Ramon,” I breathed. “You don’t have to say things like that.”
“I say them because I mean them.” A wave slammed into his back. Shielding me, he took the brunt of it, though it rocked his sturdy form. “The surf’s calling.” He searched my features. “You ready?”
I nodded, my eyes bright from Ramon’s magnanimous offer as much, or more so, than my eagerness to test the surf. My hip brushed his as I headed out. Just that innocuous contact made my breath shorten.
“I took some major waves down in South America, surfer girl. I just might school you today.”
“You are welcome to try,” I told him, jumping on my board.
(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5) Page 40