(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5)

by Michelle Mankin

  And we continued on as friends.

  With both of us moving faster than we had before.

  • • •

  Karen gasped when she opened the door for us. So oh-dorable was in reality ah-dorable, something less than delightful. But I grabbed both her hands before she could apologize. If Ash could see past all the bruises to say the nice things he had said earlier, I was good. Really good.

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…” she began.

  “I know you didn’t,” I bailed her out.

  “It’s just that it’s terrible to think about how you must feel, and how scared you must have been. I want to know who did this to you so I can make them answer for it.”

  “Exactly,” Ash concluded for Karen while giving me an expectant look.

  “Hey, all.” Ramon appeared at the top of the stairs above where the rest of us stood. The handsome Hispanic guitarist with a head full of ebony curls had a dishtowel over his shoulder. “Holy shit, that looks bad!” he exclaimed when his eyes landed on me.

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “But it’s better than it was.”

  “Well that’s good at least. C’mon on up. Main living area’s on the second level. I’m just cleaning up from breakfast, but I can heat you guys up some migas if you’re hungry.”

  I shook my head.

  “Frances made a frittata,” Ash explained.

  “Whoa. Fancy.”

  “It’s really not all that hard.”

  “That’s not what my pop says. Eggs are tricky to get right.”

  “It just takes practice. Does your dad still work at Neto’s?”

  “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

  “Um, because I’m a huge fan of the band.”

  “That’s major minutia.”

  “Yeah, well…” I shrugged. “And I saw you coming out of his restaurant with your brother the day…the day…” I trailed off.

  “The day those guys were chasing you.”

  “Yeah.” I swallowed hard, my gaze darting to Ash. Karen. Everyone had gone noticeably still and quiet.

  Shit.

  “Those are the guys who did this to you. Aren’t they?” Ash guessed.

  I closed my eyes, squeezed them shut. Wishing I could reverse time.

  “Frances,” Ash said, and his hands glided along my jaw line, framing my face as he gently lifted my head. “Open your eyes and tell us the truth.” A command not a request. I opened my eyes, noticing two things at once.

  “Ash.” He was angry, scary angry. I gulped. His friends were staring at us and both had astonished looks on their faces. “Yes. It was them.”

  “What are their names?”

  “Nieto. Carlos. They call the other one El Jefe.”

  “Ramon.” Ash snapped his head to the side. “Gonzolo was there when you saw those dudes, wasn’t he?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Call him. Ask him if the guys at the station have seen them over on his side of town. We’ll look for them on ours.”

  “You got it.” Ramon slid his cell from his pocket and brought it up to his ear.

  “No,” I whispered. “Please. Just leave it alone.”

  “No. Retribution. They’re about to find out they fucked with the wrong people.”

  “But I don’t want you guys getting into trouble on my account. It’s not worth it.”

  “Justice will be served, little one.”

  “No.” This was what I knew he would do. He was going to end up in jail on my account. “I don’t want the police involved.” I tried a different tack.

  “Why are you protecting those assholes?”

  “I’m not protecting them. I’m protecting Hollie.”

  “Hollie? Is she in trouble with the law?”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Frustrated tears flooded my eyes.

  “Ok, guys,” Karen said. “Let’s dial it down a notch. Our girl’s had enough for the moment. How about we sit down in the living room and have some of Ramon’s lemonade? Enjoy the view and settle for a bit?”

  I shot her a grateful look. “Thanks, Karen.”

  “You’re welcome, honey.”

  “Cielo. You sit down. I’ll get everything and bring it over.”

  “Thanks, Ramon.”

  “Por nada.”

  I took a seat on the middle of the sectional. Ash plopped down right beside me, his knee touching mine. His skin to my jeans. He was in another pair of cut off sweats. I set aside how my pulse leapt from his closeness and focused on settling for a bit, hoping a bit turned out to be a good long while.

  Karen sat in the chair and a half opposite us.

  “What does cielo mean?” I asked her after I acknowledged that the view out the windows from their place in the Cliffs was nearly as compelling as the one from Ash’s penthouse.

  “My heaven,” she replied while tucking her perfectly tanned legs underneath herself.

  “Oh, that’s pretty.”

  “Yeah.” She lifted her gaze to Ramon as he brought in a pitcher in one hand and a stack of red plastic solo cups in the other. She gave him a scrunched nose look. “Babe, we have nice glasses.”

  “Sí, but I didn’t want to miss anything.”

  She bumped his shoulder after he sat beside her. “Ramon says pretty things,” she said looking at me. “But I’m still working on domesticating him.”

  “I very much like living with you, but you’re not cutting my balls off, cielo.”

  “Not planning to. I’d like them to remain right where they are, handsome.”

  He grinned. With his curly black hair, bronze skin and gorgeous smile, he was one of the most popular guys in the band. It was understandable why she had fallen for him. It seemed he was every bit as smitten with her.

  “So Frances,” Karen asked, after talking a sip from the glass Ramon handed her. “What brought you to OB?”

  I froze solid. “Uh, I told you about the trouble I was in,” I reminded her.

  “So those guys followed you here?”

  “No. They’re locals,” I cut in, my hands fluttering. I could feel Ash leaning closer. “There’s other…stuff… involving my sister. It’s complicated, and not something I really want to talk about.”

  “Oh, ok,” she stumbled, and she and Ramon exchanged a look. “Well, tell us something about yourself that you feel comfortable sharing then. Did you have a job before you came here?”

  “I used to be a musician, but I own my own business now.” I dashed a glance at Ash to see if he had picked up on those clues to my identity. His expression gave no indication that he had.

  “Do you play any instruments?” Ramon asked while pouring, then passing me a solo cup filled to the brim with lemonade.

  I took a big sip, sweet relief for a mouth made dry by the stress and the cross examination. “This is delicious.” I lifted my glass in the air to thank him.

  “Gracias, Roja.”

  I glanced again at Ash. Again no indication of recognition. I swiped a hand over one of my auburn brows and sighed. My encounter with the Dirt Dogs drummer at the Oscars had registered less than I imagined.

  You were probably just one of a hundred fans he mingled with that night. Why did you think you were anything memorable?

  Ignoring the familiar barbed tangle of hurt inside my chest, I returned my attention to Ramon and answered his question. “Acoustic guitar, mainly. The banjo some. The mandolin poorly.”

  “You’re a strings girl.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” That’s what Tristan liked to call me.

  Ramon set down his cup and stood. “I’ve got a few guitars downstairs. I was actually going to run some things from my solo project. You wanna have a look at my collection?”

  “Absolutely.” I stood and followed him as he headed toward the stairs we had taken up from the ground level entrance. I hesitated when I realized Ash wasn’t beside me. I had gotten accustomed to his presence at my side.

  “Aren’t you coming?” I cringed at the unmistakable neediness in my to
ne.

  “In a minute,” he replied as he and Karen exchanged a weighted glance.

  Uh-oh. Had I said something or done something to lose Karen’s or his favor?

  “Alright.” I dipped my chin to acknowledge Ash’s delay, though that tangle inside my chest twisted tighter as I turned to follow Ramon alone. I suddenly desperately missed my sister.

  The two of us against the world.

  Easier.

  Safer.

  Simpler.

  I’d told Hollie our situation wasn’t simple. Far from it. But I hadn’t admitted how complicated things were truly becoming. Not to her. Barely even to myself. Being here at Karen’s house wasn’t simply about finding allies for our fight against our stepfather, though we seemed to have found them.

  It was also about new friendships.

  And way way too much about Ashland Keys.

  Chapter Fifteen

  * * *

  Ashland

  “What’s going on between the two of you?” Karen asked.

  “Nothing’s going on.”

  “Please. I’ve never seen you so affectionate with a woman, Ash. Simone said the same thing and she’s worried that…”

  “I know what Simone’s worried about. She told me. It’s ok. There’s nothing worth stealing in the apartment. I’m a grown man. I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can. I’ve seen you do it. You insist on doing it.”

  Ouch, that was a thinly veiled shot.

  “But are you sure about her and her sister staying in your apartment? We could put them up at the OB Hotel. We really don’t know anything about her. And what I thought I knew doesn’t seem to be holding true just now. She certainly knows plenty about each of us.”

  “She’s not a psycho celebrity stalker, Karen.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I just am. There’s something about her.” I took my ball cap off, raked a hand through my hair and returned it to my head bill backwards now. Whatever it was about Frances, it had been skittering along the edge of my mind day and night ever since I had brought Hollie and her up to the apartment. It was driving me crazy. That light in her eyes. Her resilience. Her determination. It was familiar somehow. But something kept me from accessing that familiarity, like my brain had purposefully walled off whatever it was. The mention of her being a musician was rapping against that barrier in a major way.

  Soft sounds drifted up from downstairs. Conversation. Latches opening. Strumming.

  “I feel like I should know her from somewhere else.” Karen shook her head. “It’s her eyes, I think. They’re sad, but there’s a strength in them, too. And then there’s the way she…looks…at…you…” She trailed off as more than just random test chords filled the air.

  Music.

  “A musician, my ass,” I mumbled, moving toward the stairs.

  A fucking prodigy was more like it.

  I took the stairs two at a time, stopping in my tracks at the bottom, my breath whooshing out of my lungs.

  Frances sat on an ottoman, her delicate ankles in those unusual purple high-tops crossed. She held Ramon’s Martin cradled in her lap as if it were a beloved child, her eyes misty. And her expression? Well, I had never seen her look like that, so blissful and at peace. It made my chest hurt to look at her. I had thought I hadn’t seen her look more beautiful than when she laughed.

  I was reconsidering.

  The sounds she coaxed from the instrument as her fingers skated over the strings felt like a privileged glimpse into her inner self. Ramon stood across from her. We exchanged a glance as she continued to play. Karen, too, as she moved close to me and shook her head in disbelief.

  Frances might not want to share who she was in words for whatever reason, but she was sharing it right now. Music was the voice of her soul. The melody was the same one she had hummed to me in my sleep. In it lay the strength Karen had noticed. But also great loneliness and the longing to be loved. I could relate, though I had buried that desire for myself a long while back. Looking at her now, staring into her eyes and listening to her play, I wondered if she just might have the capacity to resurrect it.

  “Frances,” I whispered.

  Blinking slowly, her cheeks flamed bright red. Lips that had been curved flattened. She ducked her chin reaching for the clip on the guitar strap.

  “Don’t stop on our account.”

  “No, that’s ok. I’m finished.” She held the guitar up to Ramon, and I noticed she was trembling, visibly upset. “You were going to play something for Ash,” she reminded him when he looked at the guitar and then her as if unclear what to do with the instrument. Or maybe he was just dumbfounded by the sounds she had been able to draw from it. I empathized. He was an accomplished guitarist. One of the best. And I…we…all of us had seen a lot of talented performers through the years. Frances ranked right up there along with them.

  “You’re the girl who’s been playing ‘Lonely Island’ on the corner by Stump’s.” I cleared the emotion from my throat as she turned to regard me again. “The one everyone’s been talking about.”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t need to hear anymore. You want a job? With Outside?”

  She shook her head.

  I cocked mine. “You got a contract with another label?”

  “No. I…” She sighed, then circled a finger around her face.

  “The bruises will fade, little one.”

  “They jumped me while I was performing,” she whispered, glancing away. “I don’t think I’m up to playing in front of anyone yet.”

  “Understandable.” I moved to her and dropped to a knee. Putting my eyes at the same level as hers, I captured her hands that had started to flit around her chest. “I’d like to get you into the studio. We can go after hours tonight or whenever you’re ready. No one has to be around.” I felt the tremor of her fingers. Her voice shook. Longing? Fear? I wasn’t sure which it was. For me, it was a little of both. It wasn’t just her music that I wanted.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. Can I think about it?”

  “Of course you can, honey.” Karen drifted closer. “Ash is just intense about getting good talent for Outside. Don’t let him frighten you. There are a lot of sharks in the music business. He’s not one. He’s one of the good guys.”

  “I know that.” She looked directly into my eyes again, and I felt the wall inside me rumble.

  “Thanks,” I told her with a nod, regained my feet unsteadily and turned my gaze to Karen. “Appreciate the vote of confidence.”

  “I’m only telling the truth, Ash.”

  “Still.”

  “So.” Ramon cleared his throat. “I listened to the files again like you suggested. I agree for the most part. But I had a couple of things I’d like to change on the album.”

  “Lay it on me.” I think he recognized the awkwardness of the moment and was throwing me a rope.

  “Will do.” Ramon dipped his chin and went for his electric guitar, sitting in a stand beside his amp.

  “I’ll leave you two, um, three to get to it.” Karen announced, hooking her thumb toward the door. “I’ve gotta go open the shop.”

  “Don’t want you walking, babe.”

  “Simone’s picking me up. She should be here any minute.”

  “No ladders.”

  “No ladders, promise. Do I have your permission to work the register at least, Romeo?”

  “Not trying to be a hardass.” His dark brown eyes practically glowed with intense emotion. “I’m just looking out for you and in your condition…”

  Karen shook her blonde head vigorously

  “What condition?” I zeroed right in on the flub. “Are you pregnant?”

  “Yes. Probably.” Her cheeks blushed almost as prettily as Frances. “I did one of those home tests, but I haven’t been to the doctor yet to confirm.”

  “It’s going to be ok, surfer girl.” Ramon abandoned his guitar and moved to take the bet
ter prize in his arms instead.

  “Congratulations,” Frances said, her eyes glistening brightly.

  “Yes, congrats.” I crossed to them, hugged Karen and clapped Ramon’s shoulder. “I couldn’t be happier for you.”

  • • •

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Frances said as we cut through the Rite Aid parking lot on the way back to my apartment.

  “Yeah. Got a lot in my mind, I guess.”

  She frowned, the uncomfortable silence continuing between us. “Did you not like the changes to Ramon’s songs?”

  “I liked ‘em alright.” I didn’t feel strongly about them one way or the other. If he wanted them in they would stay in.

  “I thought they were pretty good. It’s subtle but the new chord progression on ‘Soldiers’ really works better with the mood of the lyrics.”

  “You’re right.” I gave her a discerning look. In the wake of the bigger news I had missed it. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Because you’re mad at me.”

  “What? No.” I shook my head. “What makes you say that?”

  “You’ve been quiet and distracted since we found out about the pregnancy. I know you’re not upset about that. So it’s me. Simple deduction.” We had reached the pier. She stopped to stare at the ocean. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the gang guys and the trouble I’m in. I just…it’s just that…” She trailed off, her brows pulling together beneath her beanie.

  “It’s hard for you to trust,” I filled in.

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “It’s not you. It’s me. Lame as that sounds.”

  “I get it.” Man, did I ever.

  “And I’m sorry if I seemed disinterested in the job offer. It’s cool that you would even ask. Cool the way all of you are helping me when I’ve done so very little to deserve it.”

  “I’m not upset about you taking your time.” I grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face me.

  “So you admit it,” she grumbled to the pavement. “You are upset.”

  “Yeah.” She read my moods uncannily well. I released her shoulders and tilted up her chin. “But not with you.”

  “Oh.” She blinked slowly. “Then what is it?”