“Hold up. I’m coming.” His muffled reply came through the door before he opened it. When he saw me, he did a double-take. “What the hell! What did you do to your hair?”
“Cut it, obviously,” I said matter-of-factly as I brushed past him to enter the room.
“What’s going on, Lace?” he asked when I turned around. “Where’s Bryan?”
“I don’t know.” I blinked back the burn of painful tears and avoided looking directly at him. Sinking down onto the mattress, I smoothed out the wrinkles in the comforter. “I asked him to wait for me, to give me some time to get my head sorted out. He didn’t like that plan.”
“Damn. I’m sorry.” Dizzy dropped onto the bed and glanced at me, his eyes filled with questions I didn’t really have the answers for. Not yet, at least. I was working on that.
The haircut was symbolic. The long feminine locks were gone, lopped off. Out with the old, in with the new was my motto going forward. Well, maybe not all the old—there was room in the new for a little reboot of the Lace from Southside High, a 2.1 version of me. The me I could have been before my mistakes.
To me, my retro 1960s Twiggy haircut proclaimed all those things with its side part and short smooth layers framing my face. Most importantly, it was edgy, exemplifying the confidence that I could do this on my own.
“I’m not going back to Seattle.” I ran my hand over the shortened, ear-length strands that were going to take some time to get used to. “There are just too many memories there.”
“Kinda late to be deciding that.” Dizzy looked at his watch. “Our plane leaves in a couple of hours.”
“I already paid the change fee.”
“Where you gonna go then?”
“Vancouver. I have unfinished business at Black Cat. Some things I need to make right. I think it’s probably as good a place as any to start over.”
“Okay, Lace.” The lines between my brother’s brows smoothed out. “No reason for me to go back then either. I’ll come with you.”
I laid my head on his shoulder and let out a breath. “Diz, I have to do this on my own. Anyway, what about the band?”
“What band? No War, remember?”
“Still. The rest of the guys are in Seattle, and they need you there.”
“You’re probably right.” He nodded while his eyes searched mine. “You’re sure about this?”
It was my turn to nod. “I love you.”
“I love you too. But you’re not alone and not that far from Seattle. I’ll be just a phone call away.” He exhaled and put his hand on mine. “I’m your big brother. I know I have problems of my own, but we’re family. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I won’t let you.”
Giving him a small smile, I said, “I don’t want to get rid of you, Diz. I just have to do this. For me. For the me I want to be.”
“I understand.” He held me by the shoulders, and his lips formed an encouraging smile. “I know you can do it, Lace. Between me and you, I’ve always known it would be you who would figure out a way to overcome our past.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Lace
A scream pierced the air, waking me, and I rolled over in my bottom bunk. Pressing my spine into the wall, I clutched the small duffel of belongings and my brother’s confidence in me to my chest.
You’re here, Lace Lowell.
I’d found a place to stay in Vancouver all on my own. I had a job, such as it was, and was making my own way instead of accepting whatever life threw at me.
No one was doing those things for me. No War. No Martin. No drugs. Just me.
Don’t give up. You’re okay. It will be okay.
That was my mantra, one I had to repeat often to myself when fear crept into my heart, waking me like it had tonight. But the unfamiliar snores and breathing of women around me made me feel more alone and less certain.
Hearing rustling on the bunk above me from a new occupant added to my fear. Would the new person be nice, threatening, or—best-case scenario—apathetic like everyone else? Most shuffled along like me, barely making ends meet, chanting mantras of their own to keep moving forward.
I pulled out my cell, and my finger hovered over the text log. But I couldn’t call him. A few weeks wasn’t enough time to prove anything.
LACE: You up?
DIZZY: Gunshots again?
LACE: No, just someone screaming
DIZZY: I worry about you there. It’s not safe.
LACE: The hostel’s all I can afford.
DIZZY: You should let me pay for an apartment.
LACE: No.
I clutched my backpack tighter and continued to type.
LACE: You’re already doing too much.
DIZZY: What am I doing? You won’t accept anything.
LACE: You listen.
I couldn’t owe anyone else anything more. I needed to start my new life with a clean slate.
Problem was, late at night like this, I felt weak. I wanted Bryan. Ached for him.
Warm tears leaked from my eyes. I wanted to hear him tell me like he used to that it would be all right, that I could do anything. His faith in me had kept me steady in high school as I’d pursued my dream, a dream that now felt far beyond my reach.
Don’t give up. You’re okay. It will be okay.
LACE: I need to do this on my own. I can do this on my own.
DIZZY: I know you can.
LACE: Thank you. You okay?
DIZZY: I’m fine.
LACE: The band?
I avoided direct questions about Bryan.
DIZZY: No band. Sager, King, and I hang out some. No word from anyone else.
My chest squeezed tight. That meant nothing from War or Bryan. That silence hurt, but I powered through it.
LACE: Good night. I love you.
DIZZY: I love you too, sis. Proud of you. Good night.
• • •
I dropped into the leather chair outside Mary Timmons’s office at Black Cat Records again, my designated spot the past three Monday afternoons in a row. I flipped through the magazine selection. I’d read them all by now, but picked up an Us magazine that I practically had memorized.
I glanced over at her secretary. “Did you let her know I’m here?”
“I did.” She nodded and went back to typing at her computer.
“Okay. Thanks.” I looked out the window at the bright blue sky and the lonely cargo ship floating in the bay. My mind zoned out as I prepared for a long wait.
“Ms. Lowell?”
My mind snapped into focus.
“Ms. Timmons will see you now.”
Finally.
The secretary held open the door for me, and I entered, getting my first look at the inner sanctum of Black Cat’s CEO.
Pretty impressive. The huge corner suite filled with dark, ornate furnishings felt very Old World. Outside the windows, English Bay played the role of moat for Mary Timmons’s castle.
The elegant brunette sat on her throne, as intimidating as ever with her hands steepled together in front of her while she stared at me. Hopefully, the queen wasn’t about to send me to the gallows.
Taking a seat in one of the chairs across the imposing desk, I stared right back at Mary. The new Lace, the one who had cheated death, didn’t take shit from anyone. After all, what could this woman really do to me? I didn’t need anything from her.
I pulled the bulky envelope from the inside pocket of my pea coat and placed it on the desk in front of her. “That’s the cash from the signing bonus, less the twenty thousand for my rehab. But I intend to pay every penny back.”
Gathering my courage, I gripped the wood armrests on my chair to steady myself. Keep going. You can do this.
“I took that money under false pretenses,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite my pounding heart. “That doesn’t gel with who I am now, or at least with the person I intend to become. So I wanted to offer you an apology.”
Her perfect eyebrows raised, Mary glanced at the envel
ope and then back to me.
Okay, at that point, I began to squirm a bit. She hadn’t said a word yet. This woman had the intimidation routine down to a scary-ass science. I could learn a few things from her.
Tilting her head slightly to the side, Mary leaned back in her chair, still every inch in control of this meeting. But I sensed a subtle softening in her manner. Or then again, maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part.
“You’re done with the drugs, then?” she asked bluntly.
I was a bit surprised by this question. First, that she would even ask it, and second, wondering if she would believe me. After all, I’d lied to her before. But I owed her the truth.
“It was a real struggle at first,” I said, “but it’s gotten easier.”
The drugs had been an escape from an out-of-control life. Now that my life was going where I wanted it to, I didn’t crave them anymore. Or not as much, anyway.
“Three weeks sober,” I said proudly. “Seven, if you count rehab.”
Mary nodded, still studying me. “I would definitely count it.”
That was nice, but what was her deal? I’d given her the money back. Why wasn’t she saying anything about that?
Underneath the weight of that steely stare of hers, I found myself rambling. “It’ll take me a while to pay back the rest. I mean, I didn’t realize how much everything costs up here in Canada.”
“You’re living in Vancouver?”
“Yes. I needed a fresh start, and I didn’t want to return to Seattle where I might be tempted to fall back in with my old crowd.”
“Lace Lowell.” A regal brow rose. “You’ve impressed me.”
Stunned, I tried to school my features so I didn’t gape at her. Really?
“It’s been a long time since anyone’s done that,” she said softly, reaching for the envelope. She opened a drawer and tossed the envelope inside without checking the contents. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’ll come into the studio from ten to three, Monday through Friday. I want you doing some studio vocals. You’ll work with our voice coach. Then—”
“I can’t,” I said quickly.
That damn brow of hers rose again. “Pardon me?”
“I can’t,” I repeated, despite the glare that said Off with her head. I’d better make my case before any blood got spilled. “I wait tables in the day. I’m saving up so I can take classes at the Centre.”
Her eyes narrowed in surprise. “The Blanche MacDonald Centre?”
I nodded. “I want to get a degree in design.”
“What about your contract with me, Lace?”
“If I’m not mistaken, I voided that with the drug use.” I sat up a little straighter. “Frankly, I thought you’d be glad to be rid of me. Lost cause and all.”
“I thought you told me your dream was to be a singer. Was that another misrepresentation?”
“No. That’s what I said. I just think fashion’s the better choice for me.” I sighed, wondering where she was going with this.
Mary’s lips flattened and her fingers steepled together again. “The better choice or the safer choice?” Her eyes held mine in a challenging stare.
Damn. This woman was perceptive as shit. Neither Bryan nor my brother, who knew me extremely well, had asked me that. “I love music. It helps me process.”
With notes and melodies, I constructed a world to escape from reality. But fashion was my armor to take on reality, not to run away and hide from it.
“It’s my first love,” I said without hesitation. “But—”
“No buts.” She stopped me with a precise slice of her hand. “The way I see it, there’s no reason you can’t do both. They might even mesh really well together. Image is such a big part of the music business. I’m sure you realize that quite a few entertainers have their own fashion lines.”
My eyes widened while she continued talking. That would be so cool.
“You’ll have to quit the waitressing, obviously. Unless you’re in love with that career path too?”
Frowning, I wondered if she was teasing me. Mary Timmons?
Not sure what to say, I shook my head.
“That was a rhetorical question. I’m glad to know you’re on board with my plan. Let me just make a call.” Mary picked up her cell, sliding her fingers quickly across the screen before holding it to her ear. “Beth . . . No, I wasn’t calling about the Tempest thing. I haven’t made a decision about that yet.”
Wow. At just the mention of the band, my memory hauled ass right back to that last night with them in Orlando. I felt the familiar ache in my chest. The sutures on my heart were holding so far, but the prognosis was still day to day. I missed Bryan constantly.
What good is a new life without him with me to share it?
I let out a weary sigh, refocusing on Mary’s phone conversation.
“Yes. I’ve got her in my office now. I’m sending her right over. Take her to HR. I’m bringing her on as a part-time employee.” Mary ended the call and her eyes met mine. “Four hours a day okay with you? Twenty thousand for the first six months.”
Heck yeah, I’d take that.
Numbly, I nodded. There was no way in hell I could even come close to earning that amount working for tips. When Mary spun her chair away, I pushed to my feet, thinking I’d been dismissed.
She swiveled back, holding up a finger. “One more thing, Lace.”
“Yes?” I gulped, my stomach doing a little nauseating side shimmy.
“Where are you staying?”
“A hostel on Pender Street.” Dreaming of Bryan at night, trying to make myself into a woman worthy of him during the day.
Mary frowned. “That’s not a very good part of town.”
A total understatement. That part of Vancouver made Southside Seattle seem like Disney World.
She opened her desk drawer, pulled out a couple of business cards, and handed them to me.
“One of those is for a driver I keep on call. The other is for the manager at Sutton Place. I don’t want you wasting what little free time you’re going to have on public transportation, and I want you sleeping in a safe place.”
“Okay,” I managed to say, trying to process all the surprises she was lobbing my way.
“You’ll like the Sutton. It’s convenient, and in a nice neighborhood only a couple of blocks from the fashion school you hope to attend.”
My deer in the headlights look must have registered with Mary, because her face softened.
Why haven’t I ever noticed how beautiful she is before?
“I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Working this schedule is going to be a challenge, but I think you can handle it.” She huffed out a small laugh and shook her head. “I’ve seen a lot in this business, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like you. Showing up at my office three weeks in a row”—so she’d known!—”shows you’ve got courage and mental toughness. Bringing the money back and owning up to your mistakes demonstrates integrity on your part.”
Mary stood and held out her hand, and I grasped it.
“You have talent too, Lace. I’m really looking forward to seeing what you do next.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Bryan
Holding the guitar by the neck, I slammed it into the wall, grunting with satisfaction when it splintered apart in my hands. Letting go, I watched my favorite acoustic drop to the carpet, ruined, just like my life without Lace.
I’ve done all the waiting I’m gonna do.
What an arrogant ass I’d been. My life was at a total standstill without her.
Swiping my beer off the table, I sagged into the chair. I drained the bottle, settled back, and closed my eyes. Alone with my thoughts, and they were all of her.
What’s she doing? And who is she with?
I felt completely empty without Lace, nothing more than a brittle, burned-out husk. It was all wrong. Nothing made sense anymore.
“Bry?” my mom asked, and I opened my eyes. “Are you okay? I heard a noise.�
��
“Yeah, Mom.” I turned to see her step inside the garage, which had been converted into a studio.
“Is it all right if I come in?”
“Sure.” I ran a hand through my hair. “You don’t have to ask. This is your house, even though I bought it for you. I just put the studio in, so I had somewhere to practice whenever I’m around.”
“I know.” She pulled out a chair and sat beside me. Her gaze flicked to the broken guitar before she scanned my face. “I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be,” I bit out.
“Bryan Hunter Jackson. I’m your mother. That’s not an option.” Her hands went to her hips. “I want to know when you’re planning to stop moping around and take charge of your life again.”
I didn’t bother to respond. She was absolutely right.
My mother scooted her chair closer, smoothing out the apron she wore over her scrubs. She must have just gotten home from work. Her hand dropped down on top of mine. “What are you going to do about Warren?”
“What can I do, Mom?”
“You’ve been friends a long time.”
“I know.”
For all his faults, I couldn’t just turn off how I felt. I was worried about War. Not to have him around anymore was like missing a limb. But not to have Lace was like missing my own heart.
“I tried to smooth things over before he quit the band. When War shuts you out, though, you’re out. He’s very absolute about things. You’re either with him, or you’re against him.”
“Hmm.” Mom folded her hands under her chin and looked thoughtful. I had a feeling where she was going to go before she spoke, and I wasn’t wrong. “Do you remember what I told you when you first got back from Orlando?”
“I remember,” I said, thinking she was going to reiterate all the reasons that ending things with Lace made sense. In my mind, those reasons still had some merit, but in my heart, it felt all fucked up.
“I’m afraid that maybe I gave you some bad advice.”
Surprise widened my eyes as I looked at her.
The Complete Tempest World Box Set Page 49