I laughed and looked at him. Now that I knew him better, his protective side was something to admire.
“Thank you for that, by the way.”
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat. No one is going to take advantage of you while I’m around.”
He kissed my hand, still laced in his, for emphasis. I believed him.
“Anyway, a teacher introduced me to music when I was in middle school, and I came alive. She loaned me a guitar and I practiced writing songs and learning to play. I had a focus, and it saved my sanity. Maybe even my life.”
Suddenly he was on the floor in front of me, kneeling. He took both of my hands in his and looked into my eyes. My heart skipped a beat. What was he going to say now?
“Melanie, you keep saying we’re so different, but we’re really not. Music saved my life too. Piano lessons were a gift from my mother, her legacy to me. Later, when my world shattered, when I thought there would never again be any joy in my life, music kept me going. To share that personal salvation with someone else is a miracle. You understand me, and I understand you. That’s priceless. That’s something my money could never buy.”
Hot tears sprang from my eyes. I blinked them back, not wanting to cry in front of him. He was right; we had a deep understanding that connected us. I’d felt it that first night at the party when we played together. Even before we confessed our deepest secrets, we knew them.
No matter what happened tomorrow, we would always have this connection. I knew in my heart I would never forget this man, this moment. I needed to show him how much it meant to me, and words were not enough.
“Kiss me.”
He did. All the pent-up emotions we’d felt—longing, fear, sadness, and regret, along with joy, hope and desire—crashed over us. One long, fierce kiss turned into several, and before I knew it, we were naked on the floor.
* * *
Spencer
Excitement rippled through me as my back hit the fluffy white rug that lay between the sofa and glass coffee table. Melanie loomed over me, her dark hair hanging like a curtain, tickling my chest. Moments ago, I thought she was leaving me. Now we were coupling, melding our bodies as though our very existence depended upon it.
Maybe it did. Our confessions, revealing our deepest wounds, had taken our relationship to another level. But I would think that through later. Right now, all that mattered was touching her, tasting her.
Leaning on my elbows, I watched as she made her way down my torso, kissing, sucking, licking my skin. My hips bucked as her lips caressed my hipbone and ventured lower. Was she about to….?
Oh, hell yes, she was.
Shock waves of pleasure hit as she took my full length into her mouth. I groaned like a weightlifter hoisting one-hundred-pound weights. My head fell back as I tensed, stars lighting up behind my closed eyelids. Melanie devoured me, alternating between hard sucking and soft, barely-there kisses. It was excruciating. I loved every second.
The woman was showing off and deserved mega points for her creativity. I wanted to stop her so I could do things to her and worship her gorgeous body, but her skill rendered me helpless. I dissolved in a puddle of bliss, certain there would be nothing left of me when she was done.
My balls tightened and I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. I murmured a warning, which only served to intensify her efforts. My world exploded from my center outward, shattering into a million tiny points of pleasure. Pulsing and moaning, I finally floated back to earth, my body still at the mercy of Melanie and her perfect, talented mouth.
When I regained my senses, I pulled her up and over me. We kissed, the faint scent of sex still lingering on her lips. I paused to whisper in her ear.
“Damn you. That was awesome.”
She giggled, laying her head on my chest. “My pleasure.”
Later, we slipped into bed, still naked. I held her, wondering at the way of the universe. If she hadn’t attended that party at my uncle’s mansion, we wouldn’t be here like this. She would have moved to Florida, erasing any chance we’d meet up. There had to be a reason we crossed paths when we did.
My thoughts went back to our conversation on the sofa, where I had revealed why I felt responsible for my father’s accident. All these years, I feared voicing it to someone else would make it worse, and condemn me for all eternity. But it had freed me. Melanie was right—it had been my father’s choice to drive, not mine. Perhaps it was time to cherish the memory of my father and the few good times we had, instead of dwelling on something that would never be proved.
But I hadn’t told her everything during my confession. I’d left out my pact with Daris. What happened that night long ago was bad enough, and there was no point in adding that whole sordid affair to my tale of woe. I had finally gained Melanie’s trust and didn’t want to press my luck. If everything went well tomorrow at the studio, it would be a moot point, anyway.
Chapter Sixteen
Melanie
The day had finally arrived, and I had my usual case of pre-audition nerves. I knew it wasn’t a formal audition, it was just a “jam session” with Spencer’s friend. But this friend also happened to own a record label and a studio where famous musicians had been discovered. So, no pressure there, right?
We spent all day Saturday preparing, rehearsing the song, and making changes to the sheet music. We tried out different tempos, and decided the slower version which gave it a ballad-like feel worked best with my voice and his riffs. Plus, we’d perfected our opening hook in that version, a feat which had eluded us since we’d begun.
We made several videos and spent a few hours critiquing ourselves. It was nerve-wracking, exciting, and fun. Even if no one else saw or heard our finished product, we had a great time working together and had created a piece of music that was distinctly “us.” The idea that our song might become a hit had taken hold—as we discussed during the ride to Daris’ Forward Dream Studios in downtown Atlanta.
“I hate to jinx us by being too confident,” I confessed. “But I have a good feeling about this.”
Spencer held my hand as we crept forward through the growing traffic. It was nearly five o’clock, and the summer afternoon heat had reached a peak. I watched in fascination as we passed a fountain where children played in the water, splashing and laughing. Despite the cool air wafting from the vents in the Corvette, a sheen of sweat covered my neck.
“We’ll be fine. Besides, it’s Daris, and he’s a friend. Just relax and do your thing, and I’ll do mine.”
“You’re right.”
He was, of course, but that didn’t stop the incessant fluttering of my stomach. I’d been too nervous to eat since breakfast. Between rehearsing and getting dressed, I hadn’t been able to focus on anything else. I shifted in the low seat, careful to adjust the length of my short-skirted black dress. It was a leftover from my goth days, but it still fit. Not too slutty, but definitely sexy enough to wear to the club we were supposed to visit later that night as Daris’ guests.
Spencer’s hand drifted to my bare knee, venturing inward to caress my thigh. A bolt of heat zoomed straight to my core, and I clenched my thighs together. His fingers pried them apart, causing me to gasp. His throaty chuckle made me blush.
“You look spectacular in that dress, love. I can’t keep my hands off you.”
In response, I moved his hand and placed it on his own thigh.
“Uh-uh. I’m already worked up. Wait until later.”
His pout was kind of cute. It was all in fun, and it had taken all my will to move his hand away and not press it between my legs. We were in that delicious unable-to-stop-touching phase. I wished it would never end, though I knew it would.
We made it to the studio on time. The parking garage had limited spaces, but one had been reserved for us. When we walked into the lobby of Forward Dream Studios, an assistant opened the door and escorted us to a plush lounging area to wait. Oversized sofas, a bar, small kitchen, and a desk area filled the darkened room. The décor was g
old, black, and purple, lending a royal vibe. Photos of artists who had recorded in the studio graced the walls. The assistant, a young woman with seventies-style bushy hair and large hooped earrings, handed us bottles of water and assured us Daris would soon appear.
When he did, my heart rate accelerated. He was dressed all in white, except for black high-top sneakers. His braids were tied back on his head in a knot, with the ends splayed out in all directions. His chiseled face, broad smile, and slanted, light brown eyes that could only be described as ‘pretty,’ made me feel at ease.
“Miss Melanie. So good to see you again. I can’t wait to hear you sing. It’s all this guy has been talkin’ about.”
He had gestured to Spencer, who clapped him on the back.
“When you hear her, you’ll see why I can’t shut up.”
“Let’s go, then.”
We followed him to Studio C, a small studio with two rooms—one for the recording console and another, smaller room behind a glass panel. That room was where we would play, and my heart jumped in anticipation as I spied the piano, guitars, and microphones. Music geek that I was, I couldn’t help but gawk at the high-tech equipment and computer screens. This is where the magic happens.
This was my last shot. I’d recorded before and hung around studios in Nashville. But I’d always been a minor player, and even when I’d made my demo, there was so much competition I was unsure anyone important would hear it. But this man owned the freaking record label and the studio. He may be Spencer’s friend, but he had the power to make my dream, our dream, come true. Or not.
The fleeting thought that Spencer was trying to buy my way into this situation rattled me, but I knew my talent would prove I was worthy. Our song was beautiful, heartfelt, and emotional, and the music had a hook. Our talent would stand on its own.
Daris and Spencer chatted for a few minutes about the equipment. A young man entered the room, with spiky blond hair and tattoos along both arms. He sat at the console and Daris stepped aside.
“Liam is one of our engineers. He’s going to record your performance, and we’ll mix it later. Just relax and do your thing, y’all.”
Spencer opened the door to the other room and we entered. He tested the piano keys and adjusted his microphone, while I did the same with mine. When our eyes met, I winked to give him encouragement. This was a huge moment—he said he’d never shared his own compositions with anyone. His smile reassured me, affirming we were taking this leap together.
A few sips from my water bottle and I was as ready as I was going to be. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I imagined performing in a bar, with my band behind me. In that moment, I realized how much I missed them.
Spencer’s voice broke my mental image. “Ready?”
I opened my eyes and nodded. He looked through the window at Daris, standing next to the mixing console where Liam sat, his fingers moving over the buttons and levers. Daris counted down on his fingers, and Spencer played the opening notes to our song. I took a breath and let loose, my voice transporting me to another world.
* * *
Spencer
Melanie’s voice had a hypnotic effect on me. When she sang, everything else fell away. I knew the notes to our song so well, it took little concentration on my part. I watched her, falling under her spell once again.
Daris and Liam were also entranced, judging by their expressions. Her eyes were closed, so she must have been imagining an audience in order to get into her groove. After the first verse, she became more animated, using the sort of hand gestures and body movements I’d seen her display on stage.
She was a natural performer, and she put her entire being into each song. Knowing her past as I now did, it gave my heart a sad tug to think of anyone trying to hold this passionate, intelligent woman down. She deserved to live to her full potential, whatever that took.
My fingers flew over the keys as the song built toward its climax. Melanie watched me, her dark eyes glowing. The lyrics were sad but tinged with hope, and her eyes conveyed those emotions to me as much as her voice did. I smiled and gave her a nod as I pounded out the defining notes that began the final chorus.
When the song ended, Daris and Liam both stood and clapped. Melanie bowed, her cheeks red with excitement. She spoke into the microphone.
“Thank you. That was fun.”
Daris entered the room, still clapping. “That was awesome, you guys. Who wrote it?”
We both spoke at once, saying the same thing.
“We did.”
“I love it. Come on out and we’ll play it back for you.”
We listened to the playback, and it wasn’t bad. I noticed a few places where it could be improved, where we missed a beat or the phrasing was off, but overall it was a fine performance.
When we began discussing the finer points of the song, I excused myself to make a phone call. Petro had texted me. We had spoken that morning about him meeting with Uncle John’s friend, and I’d been worrying about it all day. I hadn’t said anything to Melanie, as I didn’t want her to have any distractions from her performance. I stepped into the empty lobby as the call went through. Petro picked up on the third ring, his voice muffled by the sound of bells and voices.
“Hey, boss. I’m in the casino. Hang on, let me step outside.”
“I’m not paying you to gamble, bro.”
The background noise faded, and I heard his low chuckle.
“Lately, working for you is a gamble, bro.”
We had a camaraderie that allowed us to joke, but Petro never disrespected me or anyone in the office, for that matter. His affable personality was one of his best qualities.
“I hear ya. So, were you able to set things up for tonight?”
“Yep. He’s meeting me at a restaurant in his hotel. I assured him I would be able to answer his questions, and he seemed cool with it. He sounded skeptical at first, but I explained you had to cancel at the last minute, and I was here in your stead.”
“It’s the truth. I only hope he doesn’t say anything to John until this weekend is over.”
“Hopefully not. And by the way, I was having lunch in the casino. Not gambling. Although I might try my luck later tonight at the blackjack table.”
“You’re still coming back even if you win big, right?”
We chatted about the conference and a few other things. When I hung up, I felt better, but only somewhat. In my mind, I had a plausible explanation to give Uncle John when this all blew up, as I knew it would. Which didn’t mean I could relax yet. No matter the outcome, this was bound to put me on my uncle’s shit list for a long time.
Back in Studio C, Melanie and Daris were still discussing the song. Daris turned to me as I walked in and motioned for me to join him.
“I have an idea, Spence. I loved the song,” he said, touching my shoulder. “I’d like to hear a faster version, though. Can we do it again, up-tempo?”
“Sure.”
What else could I say? That Melanie and I preferred the slower version? Daris was the marketer, the visionary. If he wanted fast, we’d do fast. I looked to Melanie and she agreed, her eyes wide and a grin on her face. If she was game, so was I.
We entered the recording room and took our places. I played a few different versions of the opening notes, until we found the timing Daris was looking for. I started over, and we launched into a much faster version of our song.
It occurred to me as I watched Melanie that we hadn’t come up with a name for the song. We’d kicked around some ideas, but none had stuck. This faster version we were playing wasn’t my favorite—the frantic pace seemed to overshadow the emotion of the piece. But somehow it changed the emphasis of the lyrics, and an idea struck me for the title.
As we reached the final notes, Melanie wailed and growled her way through the final lyrics. It had become a grittier song, sounding to my ears more angsty than the slower version, which had evoked more of a bittersweet tone.
Daris’ voice came through the
microphone, startling me out of my thoughts.
“That’s more like it. Great job, you two.”
“Thanks.”
Melanie had smiled and waved at Daris and then reached out to me for a hug. I took the opportunity to whisper in her ear.
“The Theory of Us.” Her startled look told me she didn’t get my meaning. Still holding on to her arms, I added, “The song title. It came to me while we were playing.”
Comprehension dawned on her face, breaking into a slow smile.
“Yeah. I can see that. In theory, their relationship should work. But somehow, it doesn’t.”
Daris opened the door, motioning for us to exit.
“C’mon, listen. It soars now.” We walked past him into the room, and he shook his head, braids flopping. “Damn, I’m good. I ever tell you that, Spence?”
I couldn’t resist rolling my eyes. It was easy to slip back into the banter of our early days when we busted each other’s balls constantly.
“Yeah, about a million times, at least. Still doesn’t make it true.”
He punched me in the arm, laughing. I pulled back, drawing my fists in mock challenge. It was great to know we were still friends. There was a time when I feared he’d never speak to me again, and it would have been justified. But it seemed now that was all in the past, and we might become best buds again.
* * *
An hour later, we were having dinner at a swanky restaurant not far from the studio. Daris had invited a few friends along, so our group had grown to seven people—me, Melanie, Liam, Daris and his female companion, Gisela, and another couple, introduced as Franco Dupree, and his wife, Lena. Franco was also a producer but of videos and movies. If I knew Daris as well I as I believed, our entourage would keep growing as the night progressed. He always was the more social of our circle of friends, and his lifestyle now indicated he had taken that aspect even further.
Not So Wrong: Love Grows series, Book Two Page 16