CHAPTER SIX

 

With this ring, I thee wed...

Marriage is about forgiveness and understanding, right?

It’s about understanding that hot doesn’t always mean sane.

And it’s about hoping he won’t kill me when he finds out I lost the ring.

 

BECK

Hold on. This can’t be happening. He gave me his mother’s ring? The diamond ring he entrusted into my care is an heirloom, and I lost it. What if he wants it back? What am I going to do? It’s not like it’s in my jewelry box or lost in my handbag. It could be at the bottom of the San Francisco Bay or the Mississippi River or Lake Ontario for all I know. There’s no way I can dredge it up, even if I beg Liv for help. It’s gone, the way this marriage was supposed to be.

“Jump in.” Nox lets go of my arm to open the cab door.

“No. Why? What are we doing?” I stare at the truck interior. It’s neat and clean and awfully cozy.

“I’m giving you a ride back to the hotel. Don’t see a car, so I assume you walked.”

“I did.”

“Then jump in the truck.”

“I’m not getting in there.”

He shakes his head and his chest sinks. His shoulder muscles drop. “Why not?”

“Don’t they say you should never ride with strangers? Especially if they give you candy.” No idea why I’m saying this. Nerves. How long until he asks about the ring? And there’s not much room for two adults in that teeny enclosed space.

“Look, I’m not offering you candy if that helps.”

“But you smell like oranges, which is kind of the same.” Sugar and earth and sunshine. I noticed it again while he stood all too close to tell me his story. I’d been transported into Sophie and her mystery man’s moment, but if I’d turned to him would it have become our moment?

“Fucking oranges,” he mutters under his breath, before addressing me. “Are you always this difficult? You know you’re not five, right? The candy rule doesn’t apply. And I’m not actually kidnapping you.”

“Uh.” He has a point. At the same time I have no interest in riding with him. Or doing anything with him.

“I don’t have time for this.” He drops his hand from the door and takes a step toward me. “I have to get to work.”

I back up. Once. Twice. Each time he moves closer. “It does sort of feel like you’re trying to kidnap me.”

“Fine.” He pushes his hair out of his face with both hands and then turns around and closes the door before walking to the other side of the cab. “If you want to walk all the way back to the hotel in this heat, be my guest.”

He’s right. It is hot. Sweat makes my skin sticky. Sunlight pools on the blacktop, glimmers like water on the road. And the truck probably has air conditioning. Or at least it won’t take me forty minutes to get out of the heat.

“Okay, okay,” I mutter under my breath as I hurry toward the cab. He swings in the other side. Wrenching open the door, I climb in beside him.

“Buckle up,” he says, staring out the window at the old building.

Gripping the seatbelt, I pull it over my shoulder and clip it. “Can we go now?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, as he starts the truck. Gravel crunches and hot air blows out of the vents. It takes a moment to cool down inside the cab while he turns the truck in a wide arc and onto the road that runs parallel to the studio.

A stretch of barren land runs along the opposite side of the tar strip we’re travelling on. As we turn onto the main road toward the hotel there’s a steel sign posted, proposing a new mall is to be built.

I never asked him what he did for a living. Although it’s been so long that could have changed several times. “What do you do?”

He’s quiet and when I turn to him it’s to find him frowning. Should I know the answer? Is he surprised I would ask? Or is it something he’s not proud of? His brow smooths out and he drums his thumbs against the steering wheel. “I run deliveries for the lumber yard across town, but right now, I’m on my way to give a couple of high school students guitar lessons.”

“You play?”

“Used to. You don’t remember?”

“Did we talk about that?”

“Not in any depth.” He takes another corner onto a different road. “But you did keep grabbing my hand that night. Told me more than a few times that I had musician’s fingers. And there was something about how calluses really turned you on.” He hums, and I get a glimpse of a self-satisfied smirk.

“I actually told you that?” I’ve never told anyone that. Liv knows I have a thing for arms, but then what girl doesn’t? But my ridiculous thing for hands with agile digits and rough surfaces... the things he did to me that night, where he touched me with those gloriously dexterous fingers... I sink down further into the leather and bite my lip as longing floods me. If he moves one of his hands from the steering wheel to my knee, I’ll probably melt clean away.

“Don’t worry.” He leans toward me and winks. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Is it? How many secret weapons did I give him that night? How does he remember so much when I can’t recall what we talked about or how we even met with any real detail? When I try, he’s always beside me. I go back to staring out the window. On my way out to see where Sophie Valentine found her start I made sure to pay attention to landmarks, but I don’t recognize anything now. “Is this the way back to the hotel?”

“In a round about manner.” He shrugs, taking another turn.

At least here there are people and stores. Hopefully in a few short minutes I won’t have to be alone with him anymore. Because as much as I want it to be uncomfortable, and as much as I want to be mad at him for stringing this situation out, I’m struggling. He could talk anyone into anything, including me. Clearly. I married him, which sure as hell wasn’t my idea, so it must have been his. “How did you trick me into marrying you?”

“How did I...” He pulls the truck into a parking spot outside of a club, no, a store of some sort. Unclipping his seat belt, he stares at me. “You think I was the one who decided we should get married?”

“Well, who else would it be?” I can’t believe he would try to bounce the blame.

“It’s never occurred to you that you might have been the instigator, has it?” There’s genuine curiosity in his voice as he continues to study me.

“Of course not.” I undo my own belt. “Why would I do that?”

“You’re right.” He turns away to open his door and climb out of the truck. “It must have been me. Clearly that’s the part of the night I don’t remember.”

I follow after him, meeting him at the front of the cab. “So you’re admitting it?”

“What?”

“That you tricked me into marrying you?”

The muscles at his temples move with the clenching of his jaw. Glancing over his shoulder, he stares at the store; Mayhem Avenue, according to the signage. “I tell you what, Beck. We’ll make a deal.”

“What deal would that be?”

“You stick around for the next hour and a half while I take care of these lessons and then I’ll drive you back to the hotel and give you my confession.”

I need to call my lawyer. If there’s any chance Nox’s confessing to tricking me into marrying him will hurry a resolution, then I’m going to stick like glue for the next hour and a half. If not, I’ll leave and go back to the hotel. He’ll be focused on teaching anyway.

“Otherwise the Lakeside is about three blocks that way.” He points in the direction we were heading before we stopped here. “And I’ll be over once I’m finished working. We’ll get some dinner and talk about how to make this adjustment easier on you.”

I don’t need an easier adjustment. I need this mess behind me. The quicker the better. “I’ll stay.”

“Okay,” he says, and he seems happy with my decision while we walk into the music store.

No, it’s a club. Or perhaps bookshop. Or is it some kind of café? Liv would have a fit if she stepped foot in this place. But it’s almost heavenly.

“Is that coffee I smell?” I run my fingers along the books stacked on shelves that reach to the roof at the front of the store. I inhale the aroma of roasted beans and swoon over the bins of CDs and vinyl. Maybe I died the moment I walked through the door. Perhaps my fear of being kidnapped was real, and now I’m happily floating in heaven because the man I accidently married murdered me after he kidnapped me. And yes, sometimes even Liv calls me a drama queen. But I swear it was only because he threw me with the comment about the ring.

“Feels like home, doesn’t it?” He leans over my shoulder and whispers in my ear as he drags a vinyl out of the bin and hands it to me. “I remember how much you said you liked Violent Nation.”

The album in my hands is a one off. It’s rare. I turn it around in my hands and study the label for one of my all-time favorite rock bands. The iconic blue and pearl industrial logo on the label is crowded with six signatures. I can’t even begin to... “It’s true. I’m dead. I must be.”

“You’re not dead. But we’ll need to come and have a look after. I’m already late.” Nox chuckles as he takes my arm and guides me through the maze of bins and shelves to the register. Besides the usual cashier stand is a long display case with cakes and cookies and sandwiches. Better, there’s a coffee machine.

“I need to buy this. And I need to buy coffee.” I pull my bag in front of me, so I can find my purse. “Actually, I need to make a phone call, so can I join you in a minute?” I glance down at the shelf under the register and there’s a Sophie Valentine CD with artwork I’ve never seen. A lone figure standing in profile against a backdrop that seems familiar. It has to be prior to her debuting on the radio. What if the guy on the cover is the same mystery boy Nox told me about earlier? I have to have it. “Or I could meander around here until you’re done.”

“At least let me show you where I’ll be and then you can wander.” He holds out his hand to me.

I hug my new-found vinyl close to my chest, careful not to bend it. “Will they mind me taking this with me when I haven’t paid for it yet?”

The door opens, and a kid walks into the store. Well, if you can call a six-foot beanpole shoving half a double decker sandwich in his mouth in one bite a kid. He looks to be between sixteen and twenty, but I’m betting he’s closer to sixteen with that peach fuzz he’s sporting on his top lip. Over his shoulder he carries a knapsack, and a black guitar case swings from his fingers. “Sorry I’m late, Nox. Training ran overtime.”

I smile at the kid when he swings his gaze my way, his whole head turning in my direction. Curiosity, and a little unwanted appreciation show in his brown eyes for the couple of seconds before he focuses on his teacher.

“That’s all right, West.” Nox says as the kid approaches.

“You can cut my lesson short if it helps.”

“It’s fine, really,” Nox reassures him. “I’m running late myself. Let me introduce you to my...”

Oh please no. Don’t introduce me as your wife. Don’t make it awkward for yourself. Don’t make it so you have to explain the hows and whys when we divorce as soon as possible. At least not with this kid. “Friend. I’m Nox’s friend, Beck. It’s nice to meet you, West.”

“You too.” He clings to that guitar case with both hands.

“Okay, well, we should head back and get started.” Nox turns and walks to the wall of booths. They’re old school individual rooms for listening to music that sort of remind me of British telephone boxes. “You can bring your vinyl, Beck.”

“If you’re sure.” I hurry after him and West. He opens a door at the other end of the booths and holds it open, inviting us to walk in first.

“Nice covering,” he says as he closes the door behind me. West is already at the top of the stairs.

“You’re welcome,” I whisper while I wait for him to go ahead of me.

Glancing over his shoulder as he jogs up the stairs, he says, “That’s another thing we’ll have to talk about.”

West is set up when I enter the room. His Fender Strat is plugged in and he’s tuning it. Another stool is opposite his and more than a dozen guitars hang on the closest wall. It takes my breath away. “Is that a Les Paul standard 59? And is that an original Telecaster? These are beautiful.”

“Aren’t they?” West agrees, grinning. “They don’t get played enough though.”

“Okay, come on. I have another lesson after you.” Nox props himself on the empty stool and rests his palms on his thighs. “So we better get a move on.”

Are these all Nox’s guitars? He said he used to play. I just didn’t imagine...but he is Dalton Casey’s son. And he does have great hands. His fingering skills must be exceptional. Oh God, they were exceptional. “I should leave you to it. I still need to make that phone call.” I back up. “And pay for the record.”

“Tell Lou when she pops her head up from wherever she was hiding, that you want a Casey special.”

“A Casey special?”

He grins. “Trust me on this.”

“Okay.” It’s hard not to smile back. His grin is contagious.

“How’d you do with that Chilli Peppers song you were talking about last week?” He turns his attention back to West.

“It’s coming along,” West says as I turn and start down the stairs.

By the time I reach the door that leads back into the store he’s playing in earnest. Inside the store is quiet. The upstairs must be sound proofed. I take my Violent Nation album to the register and lay it down on the counter, but there’s no one around. Lou, whoever she is, doesn’t pop out from behind the counter or the room off to the side.

Pulling my phone out of my bag, I call my lawyer while I wander toward the windows that overlook the street. Please let it be possible for me to get out of this marriage with a simple confession.

According to my lawyer, it could be that easy. Almost. If I can prove that I was coerced into marrying this guy and find a judge to void the whole wedding. The confession would help a lot. Especially if I can get Nox to go into detail. And my lawyer might know the judge to help me. It could be almost pain free.

“Oh, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

I turn to face the woman as she dumps a heavy carton on the counter. “You must be Lou.”

“I am.” She dusts her hands off on her black pants, her dark ponytail bouncing with the rapid movement. “I’m sorry. We’re not actually open for this evening yet.”

I glance over my shoulder and the sign on the door reads open, which means that it must say closed on the other side. Approaching her, I drop my phone back into my bag. “I came in with Nox.”

“You must be Beck.” She smiles, her blue eyes brightening. “Jack told me about you this morning.”

“Jack?”

“He sometimes works at the hotel as a bartender.” She moves around the counter to the nearest booth. Reaching between it and the café case she does something and then places her hands on the front of the booth. The booth begins to roll back. “Would you mind giving me a hand? I need to get everything set up.”

“Sure.” The whole row is on wheels, which I didn’t notice before, and it glides across the wooden floorboards, opening up a huge backroom with a bar and a stage.

“We usually leave all this open, but we’re expecting a crowd, so I needed to move the furniture into the storage room.”

“This place is...” I don’t have the words to describe it.

Grinning, she rests her hands on her hips. “It’s Mayhem. Completely crazy. But it works.”

“Hence the name?”

“Exactly.” She nods. “Coffee?”

“Please.” I follow her back into the storefront.

“How do you take your poison?” She starts setting up the coffee machine.

“Nox said I should ask for the Casey special. I don’t know if that pertained to coffee or—”

Lou laughs heartily. “Double espresso with two shots of coffee liqueur and cream. I can make you one if you want.”

“I think I’ll stick to that.” I glance to where black liquid is dripping from the machine into a cup.

“Okay.” She joins me at the register and notices the album. “Violent Nation, huh?”

I trace the signed label with my fingertips. “I have a soft spot.”

“I get it,” she says.

“Can I get that Sophie Valentine too? I’ve never seen that cover before. Nox told me a story earlier about Sophie and a boy. Do you think he’s the mystery man?”

She snaps open a bag and carefully slides my Violent Nation album into it before handing it to me. “It’s on the house. Casey special discount. But I can’t give you the Sophie.”

I reach for my wallet. “I wouldn’t expect—”

“No. I mean it’s not for sale.” She moves to the coffee machine now that it’s stopped dripping.

“Oh.” Damn it. I doubt I’ll ever come across the same CD again.

“But you can listen to it. In one of the booths.” She finishes my coffee and puts it down between us. “I can put it on for you and you can listen for as long as you like.”

She comes around the counter and leads me to the first booth where she puts the CD on. “Just make yourself comfortable. Nox will be a while.”

I nod to her as she leaves the booth and then I pick up the headphones that hang on a hook on the back wall. The music instantly soothes my nerves. I take my bag off and sit on the floor, letting Sophie’s voice wash over me. What a mess. Getting divorced was something I never thought I would have to worry about. And now I have a man who for whatever reason refuses to be amiable. A lost ring. And only a short while to make it all go away.

What a mess I’m in.