The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  We both should’ve known better, growing up with a crack addicted mother. She’d nearly destroyed our lives jonesing after her next fix. But I guess in another way heading down a similar path had been predictable if not inevitable. Bad genetics after all. I think my sister worried that we would never escape them.

  Well the running was working out so far. At least, it kept me from dwelling on that other shit.

  Green lights all the way, I hit a really good stride, pulling in oxygen to fuel my racing heart. I heard the hum of a seaplane and turned to watch its takeoff from the Burrard Inlet, the waterway that divided downtown from West Vancouver.

  I was rapidly becoming addicted to my early morning runs. Though the guys in the band were like brothers to me, I craved this time by myself. I tried never to make waves and to avoid confrontation, so I needed the breathing room to keep my temperament even.

  I turned left, slowing to a jog before I hit the eleven kilometer circle of Stanley Park. My mind drifted as the wind rustled through the foliage on one side of my path and ruffled the surface of the water on the other. I wondered how long the band would have to remain in Vancouver. Probably as long as it took to get a new album hammered out with our new lead singer, I guessed.

  Justin Jones was a big unknown for all of us. He seemed like a decent guy. My sister sure liked him a lot. But he wasn’t Warren, and he wasn’t Southside. I suspected he would always be an outsider. He didn’t have the history with us.

  At the halfway point on my route, I passed Prospect Point, the Lion’s Gate suspension bridge to my left. I forced myself to keep my pace at a steady jog. I was working on endurance. If I wanted to have enough kick at the end to make it back to the Sutton Place apartment Black Cat had rented for me, I was going to have to exercise more self-control.

  But I was really tempted to go full out on the straight away, to pretend it was possible to outrun the past. The fucking nightmare weighed my thoughts down. Usually I was able to avoid situations that triggered them. But the events at the Mine last night brought it all back, front and center. Not only had I seen the panic in April’s eyes, I’d felt it. Remembered it. Relived it.

  Fuck it. I ran hard and fast, the air slicing into my eyes, dragging tears from them despite the protection of the shades.

  I ran out of juice shortly after I passed Second Beach. Bending over, gasping for breath, I dropped my hands to my knees. Those things I refused to acknowledge caught up to me all at once. Even after all these years, the shame still sickened me. I staggered toward the water and dry heaved. I hadn’t eaten this morning. Thank God.

  My cell rang. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and straightened glancing at the display. Mel. Shit. She’d finally worn me down. I’d given her my number last night, mostly because I wanted her to keep me in the loop about April.

  “Yo.”

  “Hey, Diz. Whatcha doing? I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time? It’s so early I really wasn’t expecting you to pick up. I thought it would go directly to your voicemail, and I was just going to leave a message.” She was talking so rapid fire fast she sounded like my sister’s new roommate Bridget. I wondered if she was nervous. She wasn’t usually with me.

  “I’m in the park. Just got through running.” I paused to swallow the acrid taste in my mouth. “I’m on the way back to the apartment. What’s up?”

  A pause. “Running? Are you wearing cut off sweats?”

  I snorted. “No. Just track pants. It’s too cold for shorts.”

  “Oh, too bad. I liked the other visual. I’m gonna stick with it.”

  “Alright.” I grinned, something I found myself doing a lot around her. It was the reason, even though she kept trying to burrow further in, that I didn’t push her away like my gut told me to do. I never let chicks too close. They were way too perceptive at close range, something I didn’t need or want.

  “Anyway, I just called to give you an update on April like I promised.”

  My overworked muscles went super tense. “Is she alright?”

  “Yeah. Well, at least I think so.” A sigh. “Oh, hell, I don’t know.”

  “I don’t understand. Explain.” It was difficult, but I mostly managed to keep the impatience from my tone.

  “Well she seemed better last night than this morning when I talked to her to tell you the truth. Her voice is so hoarse this morning that I could barely understand her. I told her she needed to go to the clinic, but she won’t. I’m worried that dick might’ve done some kind of permanent damage to her vocal cords.”

  “That asshole had his hands wrapped around her neck so hard her eyes were bugging out,” I growled. “I imagine her throat would be pretty raw today.”

  “Ok. Yeah. That’s what I thought, too, only sometimes…well…Nevermind.”

  What the hell? Before I had a chance to press her, she went on, “You coming to the Mine tonight? Ebb Tide’s playing. I’m singing.”

  “No, Bluebelle. I can’t. I’m sorry.” I could, but I wasn’t going to. I needed to try to put a little distance between me and those two, the bartender in particular. After all, who the hell had appointed me as her protector? She had her own life. Mine sure as hell didn’t need any more complications.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  April

  Toughen up, I told myself, my aching muscles screaming in protest as I made my way up the sidewalk to my childhood home. I didn’t have time to lie around and recuperate. Today was Saturday, the day that I always gave my mom a break, helping out with George and my half-brothers.

  I’d gotten stiff on the long bus ride out to Coquitlam. Usually the time flew by as I watched and listened to the other passengers, but the usual things weren’t bumping me out of my depressing thoughts. I’d been like this all week, since the assault at the club and what had followed later that night at home.

  Mel was beyond frustrated with me. She wanted me to talk, and I wouldn’t comply. It’d gotten so bad that I’d begun avoiding her which was really pretty damn counterproductive since I needed my lifeline now more than ever. But I just couldn’t afford the kind of intimate friendship that we both desired. It wouldn’t be safe for either of us.

  I needed to put my own shit aside before I got inside the house. My mom would ask too many questions I couldn’t answer. Things were hard enough for her these days. She didn’t need to shoulder any more burdens.

  I lifted a hand to my neck checking to make sure the scarf was still in place covering the bruises that were only just beginning to fade. Suddenly, the front door burst open. John and Michael my seven and five year old exuberant half-brothers barreled down the wooden ramp at top speed and launched themselves at me. I rocked back on my heels. John squeezed my waist like he hadn’t seen me in years and Michael wrapped his still chubby little arms around my leg, his ever present plush Paddington Bear sandwiched between us.

  “Do you have a new chapter for us?” Michael asked peering expectantly up at me.

  “Of course I do.” I leaned down and planted a kiss on his freckled cheek. His face turned completely scarlet. I lifted Michael and gave him a big one, too before he could squirm away.

  My mom, who looked enough like me that we could be sisters with the same long brown hair and green and brown flecked eyes, appeared in the doorway behind us looking flustered. “Boys.” She smoothed her wool skirt. She never went out without looking one hundred percent put together. Totally different from me and my opposites must attract urban chic look. “Get back in this house,” she scolded them. “You’re still in your pajamas. You’d think for once they’d wait to maul you until after you get inside?” she said apologetically.

  I laughed. “It’s ok, Mom.” We studied each other for a moment. “You look tired,” we both said in unison.

  “Good thing coffee’s brewing.” Mom reached out and squeezed my arm sympathetically. “Did you work late last night?”

  I nodded. I didn’t mention that the shift had felt much longer than usual.

  Dizzy had returned after a we
ek long absence along with the rest of the Tempest crew minus Justin. I hadn’t seen the rhythm man since he’d rescued me and things were definitely kind of weird. He sat in his usual spot, picked up a girl, and disappeared into the back the way he always did. But he shunned me completely. He got his drinks from the bar upstairs, even though it was way out of the way to do so.

  He and Mel seemed solid though. She had taken up with his group the way she left off, and they’d resumed their easy chemistry, laughing and dancing together. I was happy for my friend. I had put aside most of my doubts about Dizzy, but I just couldn’t understand why he seemed to be purposefully avoiding me.

  His attitude toward me had changed, and it perplexed me. I was the friendly put together bartender. The one everybody felt at ease with. It was my persona, and the Mine was the place where I felt like I could be my true self, the person I was before James. The person I might’ve remained if things hadn’t gone so terribly wrong.

  Had Dizzy seen through my disguise? Had he put it all together and figured out what an imposter I really was?

  I shifted Michael on my hip to cover up my sigh. He was getting big. I wouldn’t be able to hold him like this much longer. That thought made me even more melancholy. I tightened my arms around him as if that would somehow keep him young forever.

  My mom was watching me closely. “You really don’t look well. I only have two errands that I absolutely have to get done today. My haircut can wait till next week. I…”

  “No, Mom,” I stated firmly, setting Michael down on the kitchen counter and opening the cookie jar, handing him one before setting him back on the floor. I ruffled his sandy brown hair. “I’m fine. We talked about this before. You need to get out of the house at least once a week and have some time for yourself.” She took pride in caring for my stepfather herself and refused to put him in the long term care facility even though James had offered to pay the bill. “I love spending time with George and the boys. It’s a win-win for everybody. So, go.” I shooed her toward the garage door while pasting on an encouraging smile. “Is he still asleep?”

  She nodded, sadness surfacing in her eyes, deepening the fine lines around them. She’d aged so much since his accident. “He had a hard night,” she admitted.

  “I’m sorry, Mom.” I pulled her into my arms, resting my cheek against hers. She hugged me back, clinging to me for a moment before releasing me. “Isn’t there anything they can do?” I asked softly.

  “You know there’s not.” Her eyes turned shiny. She sniffed before continuing. “It’s never going to get any better. What it is now is what it’s always going to be. But I just can’t stop hoping…” She trailed off unable to complete the thought. The wish we all had. She managed a watery smile before turning away. She lifted her purse off the bar stool and scooped her keys off the counter.

  The helplessness and despair she’d shouldered since George, the second love of her life after my father, had fallen off the ladder and injured his brain, was mostly hidden behind her everyday mask. But the smiles we all got from her nowadays never quite reached her eyes. She used to be the more carefree one, the one who taught me to believe in fairy tales and happily ever after. She’d always been my biggest cheerleader, too, even when I fell in love and got married right out of high school. But that had all changed. Everything had changed for all of us last year. Now we were both just treading water trying to keep our heads above the surface and not to drown in our sorrow.

  “April,” she called, her hand on the open door to the garage.

  “Yeah, Mom?”

  She stared at me a beat, her expression inscrutable. “Everything ok with you, Sweetie?”

  I froze, hoping my own mask was as firmly in place as hers. “Sure.” I swallowed, the lie burning my throat and tasting bitter on my tongue. “Why do you ask?”

  “I just want to be sure James knows how much I appreciate him paying the mortgage since George’s accident. And with the medical bills, too. I know it must put a terrible financial burden on both of you. And I haven’t seen you two together in quite a while.” A frown formed between her delicate brows. “Not since…”

  “We want to help, Mom,” I rushed in with words desperate to block out the subject she’d begun to invoke. “We can do it. We want to help. We’re family. Family’s not a burden. James is just busy with work. Being co-owner’s a lot more involved than just being a GM.” The bitterness turned to dry ashes in my mouth. I couldn’t go there. Not yet, not on top of everything else. Some other time. Some indefinite time in the future. When I was feeling stronger. When things finally settled down for her.

  “Alright.” I could tell she wasn’t completely convinced by my explanation. Avoidance and stoic endurance were the coping mechanisms we both employed after life’s cruel turns had brought each of us to our knees.

  “Go on.” I tilted my head toward the door. “You should get going. I’ll see to George. And I’ve got a new story to tell everyone.”

  After she closed the door, I scooped Michael up into my arms again and buzzed his chocolate stained cheek, breathing in his cookie smell. “C’mon little Jobber. Come help me with your dad. The sooner we get him fed breakfast, the sooner I can start my tale.”

  “Will there be pirates in this one?” Michael asked, his eyes bright and his cherub face alight.

  “Absopositivealutely,” I confirmed.

  “And sword fighting?” John beside me, we moved to the back of the house, entering the master bedroom now filled wall to wall with hospital equipment.

  “Of course. It’d be a pretty boring otherwise, wouldn’t it?” The fantasy I was weaving had a beautiful but tragic heroine who could only dream of escaping her unhappy circumstances. That is, until she is magically transported into an alternative reality filled with monsters, miracles, and magic. And even a few mortals. I had recently added a reluctant but exceedingly brave chocolate haired, pierced browed hero who could fly and his quirky but completely loveable blue haired sidekick.

  George was sitting up in the recliner when we entered. He smiled as if he knew me. I hoped he had pleasant memories, even if it was only in some deep unreachable place.

  “Good morning,” I said overenthusiastically to cover up the pain. It didn’t get any easier seeing him this way. The wise, strong, steady man I had relied on during my turbulent teens was gone. Snatched away by the fickle hand of fate at a time when I had needed him the most. He was the only father I had ever known. Though my mom told me stories about my biological dad, he’d died when I was too young to remember him. I’d become a bartender because he had been one and I’d wanted to be just like him.

  I leaned over and kissed George’s bristly cheek. The scent of Dial soap filled my lungs. He still smelled the same, but everything else about him was different. He was like a little child now. His hands fluttered on my back, but he didn’t hug me. Tears burned the back of my eyes. I willed them away and straightened. “What would you like for breakfast today?” He didn’t answer. He never did. So I answered for him. “Oatmeal it is.”

  I felt a warm presence settle near my side. Michael took my hand and squeezed his small fingers around mine. He blinked at me with solemn blue eyes that were way too somber for his age but reminded me so much of his father. “I’ll help you,” he said.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dizzy

  “Dizzy Lowell.”

  I instantly tensed in response to the familiar, authoritative voice. I closed the last latch on my SG case and turned around without delay.

  In a no nonsense suit and skyscraper high heels, Mary Timmons, the CEO of Black Cat Records stood in the open studio doorway Justin had just flown out of on his way to pick up Bridget’s son. The Queen was total badass. She intimidated the hell out of everyone. Though I found confidence like hers sexy in a woman, I usually steered clear of her type. They asked too many questions and demanded too many answers.

  “Ms. Timmons,” I acknowledged respectfully. I stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets fidgetin
g with my keys. “How can I help you?”

  Unwavering grey eyes took mine captive. I’d never been on the receiving end of one of her sizing-you-up stares. They were the stuff of urban legend. The reality was so much more unnerving than the myth.

  I tried not to squirm under the intensity of her gaze. I swallowed as she continued her appraisal for an uncomfortable interval. When she broke the connection, I nearly sagged with relief.

  “I like the new song. The melody’s appealing.” She entered the room and closed the soundproof door behind her. “Justin’s voice is much different than Warren’s, but it works well, don’t you think?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. I’m glad.” Her head tilted to an inquiring angle. “I understand there’s still some friction between him and Mr. Jackson?”

  “I guess so.” Fucking shit. She was startlingly perceptive and impressively direct. I wasn’t keen to throw my bandmate under the bus, but I didn’t think acknowledging what everyone already knew was giving too much away.

  Her lips pressed together briefly. “What about your recent conversation with Tempest’s former lead singer?”

  What. The. Bloody. Hell?

  How did she know I’d talked to War?

  Her hands moved to her elegantly suited hips when I didn’t immediately answer. For the first time I noted the absence of a wedding ring on her left hand. There was a lot of speculation about her relationship status. Some thought there might be more than just simple friendship between her and the company’s top PR woman, Beth Tate. I didn’t know and didn’t really care one way or the other. But a heated meeting that my sister had witnessed between Queen Mary and Charles Morris, the king of Zenith Productions, War’s current label, had the two of us drawing an entirely different conclusion.

  “Well?”

  “What of it?” I held my ground even as her eyes rained down pewter fire. I couldn’t see how it mattered to her anymore, and in spite of all that had happened, I still felt a measure of loyalty to Warren.