Now
I play the bar of music again, and Spencer frowns. He’s possibly the only person who can make me feel like I suck at music without ever saying a word. Then again, he’s the only person I’ve ever met who doesn’t tell me that everything I do is golden. That’s why I’ve always loved him. He pushes me to do better, try harder. We’ve always made a hell of a team.
I can’t help the slow grin that has my cheeks stretching as it grows. It feels great to have that dour face staring me down, not quite happy with my music.
“No, it’s still not working,” he says, his brows pulled down as intense concentration takes over his face.
He plays the same notes but changes the timing of each slightly, altering the flow of the music. It’s better. He nods, and I repeat his pattern on my guitar. His eyes betray his smile, even though he’s chewing on his bottom lip, so I know we’ve found it.
I lean over and mark the changes down in my notebook and turn to Asher.
“You wanna take it from the top?” I ask.
He bobs his head once in confirmation and picks up his drumsticks. The short, quick taps on the cymbal set the pace. One… two… three… four…
We play the song from start to finish. It’s good but still off. I study their faces; neither are entirely happy, nor are they unhappy. Apathetic is a good word for it. But apathy is death to music because music thrives on the emotions it evokes.
“It’s still missing something.” I tap my finger on my lower lip, frowning at my notebook.
“Yeah, depth,” Spencer says.
“Guys, I’m gonna take five.” Nate’s voice breaking in through a speaker causes me to jump.
He’s been in the other room with the recording equipment all day. With no glass wall to see him, I keep forgetting he’s there until his voice sounds out loudly, joining our conversations. Out of sight; out of mind.
I nod before I remember he can’t see me, and then speak into the microphone.
“Sounds good.” I purse my lips, mulling over the music. “We need bass and rhythm guitar. These songs can’t be pulled off with three instruments.”
“You know we can call him?” Spencer asks.
My head whips in his direction so fast my muscles clench. “He still plays?”
“Did you think we were the only serious musicians in the band?” He gestures between us.
I shrug. “Monk doesn’t play drums anymore, aside from the lessons with the kids he works with. I just assumed…”
“You know what they say about assuming?” Spence poses, spreading his hand out in front of him.
I pick up my pencil and lob it at his head. “Shut up, dick.”
He angles his body slightly, and it sails past him, bouncing off the wall. Spencer chuckles.
Asher laughs, too, and I turn narrowed eyes in his direction. He fights to keep the smirk off his face. He obviously enjoys how much shit Spence has been giving me since I walked in the door. I think my face is going to be stuck in a permanent glare after today.
I rest my arms on top of my guitar. “Call him.”
Spence pulls his phone from his pocket and holds up a finger. “On it.”
Spencer is listening to the phone ring when the door squeaks open. Asher and I turn to face the noise, only to find a grim-faced Dex.
I’m immediately on alert. Dex doesn’t wear his emotions unless he means for you to see it. I set my guitar down as he looks over his shoulder into the other room. I hop over the equipment as best I can in the ridiculously oversized borrowed T-shirt and flannel sleep pants to get to him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
His body relaxes slightly when I touch him, but he’s still tense. I look past him into the other room and notice that Nate’s not there. But in his chair is another flower and another note. I look around and don’t see any sign of Nate. I push past Dex, immediately going to see if Nate has left. When I open the door, the daylight blinds me for a moment, but when my eyes adjust, I can see Nate’s Beemer sitting in front of me. I go back in, thoroughly confused, until I remember the bathroom. The bathroom door is closed, so I knock.
No answer.
I knock again.
Nothing.
I try the handle. It turns, but something is blocking the door. My stomach plummets. I back away, shaking my head. I suddenly don’t want to be here anymore. I want to get away. I turn with the intention of bolting out of the building but halt when I notice Dex is standing there, reading the note.
Dex’s fingers curl into the paper, warping it like he’s barely able to keep from destroying it. It’s his only tell. His face is back to the cool, calm mask that he usually wears.
“What’re you doing?” I ask, my voice belying my fear.
Dex looks up from the note. Whatever he sees on my face causes his brows to drop. “It’s not like you’re gonna hand it over to the police.” He shrugs. “Not likely that they would find anything anyway, and I wanted to know what it said.”
He holds the paper out to me, and I shake my head.
“I don’t want to touch it.”
Why I think a plastic barrier makes holding one of the notes, any easier, is beyond me. Or maybe it’s just the increased fear of what’s in the bathroom. I catch sight of Asher moving toward the bathroom door, and the curiosity over what the note says battles with my need to be far away from that door when it opens. Call me a fucking coward, but I’m sure I can’t live with any more death, especially in a place where I’m recording music.
Dex is cupping the back of my neck, pulling me to his chest before I register his movement. I breathe in his woodsy scent. I’m not real good at differentiating scents, but I can smell a hint of cedar and lavender to whatever it is he wears. It’s not a cologne; it’s more subtle. My mind mulls over this little debate, and I find myself melting into him. His touch, his presence, is soothing.
“I can tell you don’t want to, but you need to read this. Maybe you’ll understand it better.”
I plead with my eyes for him to take me away from here. I can hear Spencer has joined Asher, trying to open the bathroom door.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, running his thumb over my lower lip.
A fine shiver courses through me, and I burrow further into his arms. It gives me a modicum of strength and I turn to read the note in his hand.
He said a debt must be settled between you. That I was to contact you or he would send evidence to the police. You need to leave town, go somewhere he can’t find you.
My brows draw together as I tip my head back to meet Dex’s troubled eyes. “Is this some weird talking in third person or multiple personality thing? Who is he?”
Then
I pulled into the newly repaved parking lot at the recording studio. The expansion of the building fit seamlessly to the old structure, making it impossible to tell that it wasn’t always that big. We kept the steeple and added more stained glass windows. I was fond of the quirkiness that the old church look gave to the business.
I waited for Bridget to get out of her car at the end of the walkway leading to the front door. I looked over the squares of freshly laid sod covering the evidence of the recent construction.
“You ready to see what you’ve been paying my salary for?” Bridget said with a smile as she joined me.
“I think I got that by the many documents I get by mail and email to sign every day. This is impressive, too, though.”
Her eyes lit up. “Wait until you see the inside.”
We walked the path to the doors. So many changes to the interior had me blinking in shock as I opened the doors. We walked into a real reception area. The style was a bit more modern, quirky, and fun. I immediately loved it. As much crap as I gave her, Sloane really did have good taste.
There was a desk in the center of the area with a sign behind it that read Mad Lane Records. I smiled at that. The record label name was Nate’s idea, his homage to me, his new business partner. I bought half of the recording studio, and we both invested the money for the expansion. Bridget did the legwork on setting up the record label, and we were in business.
“You ready for the grand tour?” Bridget beamed.
“Lead the way.”
I followed her down the hallway lined with the glass-walled offices of the new addition to the building. Each office had the name and position of the occupant. The first two were Bridget and Priscilla’s offices, Legal and Publicity Director respectively, followed by two that were sitting empty aside from the basic office furniture. We passed a larger area that had a break room on one side of the hall and a conference room on the other side. So far, we had yet to run into anyone, and I began to wonder where everyone was at. Their cars were in the parking lot after all.
We continued on to the end of the hall, which opened up to a second reception area and two large offices that lined the back wall. Both had glass walls to the inside, but there were blinds pulled closed, so I couldn’t see through.
I knew from the plans that those two offices were the only ones that broke the exterior church-like facade and had full glass walls facing the outside, since they were hidden from the street and the parking lot by the rest of the building and overlooked the creek outside. One had Nate Thompson— Owner and Executive Operations—and the other, Madelaine Dobransky—Owner and Executive A&R.
I felt like I could fly at that moment because it finally felt real. I loved playing and performing, but this was my dream. Nate and I divided the ownership of the company; he would handle the business and management of the company, and I’d own the direction and talent of the record label.
I pushed the door open, and the lights came on. Everyone jumped on the spot, yelling. “Surprise!”
I shrieked and let the door swing closed in front of me. The door opened, and Jared stood there with a huge grin on his face.
“We got you, didn’t we?”
“Holy fuck, I think I’m having a heart attack.” I placed my hand on my chest and willed my racing heart to slow.
Jared wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead. People filed out of the office, which had exceeded its max capacity. Just about everyone I knew was in there, with a few notable exceptions—Holly, Sloane, and Ruby. I felt a dark cloud pass with the thought, but I put on a brave face.
“We decided to celebrate since construction finished last week, and we’re set to open next week. This is last-minute.” Nate shrugged with a grin and held up a bottle of champagne.
“There’s actually food in the break room fridge. I slaved away at the stove all day,” Bridget said as she pulled me from Jared into her own hug.
I pulled back sharply. “You don’t cook.”
“Fine.” She grinned and let me go. “I ordered catering. You could’ve let me live in my fantasyland of domesticity, but no.” She made a show of her pretend outrage, and I laughed loudly, shaking my head. She leaned forward and whispered loudly, “Congratulations, bitch. You did it.”
I was unable to stop the production of tears as they filled my eyes, blurring my vision. I nodded, unable to speak past the growing lump in my throat.
I was passed around from one person to the next while they all congratulated me on the business opening. I finally made it back to Nate.
“We’re supposed to be recording tonight,” I said, wiping underneath my eyes.
“We are. You’re the entertainment. Everyone gets to watch as we christen the new recording booth. Have you seen it?”
“No, we didn’t go into the old part of the building, so I haven’t seen the remodel.”
He grinned. “Just wait.” He turned to face everyone and whistled loudly. “Everybody, we’re moving to the studio to watch the magic happen. Let’s go.”
We all moved to the studio, which looked amazing. We had torn out the old kitchen and two of the storage closets and put in a new recording booth with its own waiting area. I stopped and looked into the old “crash pad” room that had been outfitted with bunks based on Japanese hostel designs, so people now had their own private cubbyhole to crash in. This was perfect.
We got to work then. It didn’t take long to record the song since it was just me and an acoustic guitar. Afterward, I was sitting on the couch with Jared when someone opened the bottle of champagne finally. When the pop sounded, Jared jumped, then stiffened, and his pupils dilated. Fear crawled into my chest like a rabid animal. I moved onto his lap.
“Hey, Jared. Look at me. I read about this. If you count backward with me, it’ll help.” When I got his attention, I began to count backward from ten.
Eventually, his color returned, and his body relaxed. I brushed my lips against his.
“See, we can get through this together.” I beamed at him with a watery smile.
“Thank you,” he said, burying his face in my neck and taking a deep breath.
Now
I’m pacing the floor, trying to get my breathing under control. The guys got the bathroom door opened, and there was nothing in there. Empty. It was just stuck closed by something to do with a shifting foundation or hinges… I tune the guys out when they start mansplaining it.
But, Nate is still missing and in his place is a new flower. My mind races with infinite possibilities as to what it all means. He could be in danger—taken by the man that watches me and leaves cryptic messages.
It felt preposterous to me that he would be the stalker. But Dex did submit that as a possibility, that this note was a goodbye. With each change of direction, I vacillate between anger and worry. I can’t make my mind up.
Asher is explaining to Spencer what it all means, and Dex is just sitting still. I can see the thoughts moving behind his eyes, but so far, he hasn’t made a move to share them with anyone.
Moments later, the doorknob turns, and we all turn to watch it. Dex moves from the chair with a quiet stealth to stand in front of me, blocking my view. His hand goes to his ever-present weapon in preparation for the worst.
“Hey.” I hear the familiar husky male voice. “Any of you know this dude passed out on the ground out here?”
I catch the whiff of marijuana on the air, and I know who it is, instantly. I place a hand on Dex’s to keep him from drawing his gun.
“Spaz?” I ask, trying to sidestep Dex. “My God, that’s probably Nate.”
Dex places a hand on my arm to stop me, and I meet his hardened stare. “You stay here.” He nods to the chair. “I’ll go see if it’s him.”
Fuck. I know he’s right. We know the stalker’s been here. Nate is missing, and the last thing I need to do is go running off half-cocked by myself. I nod and drop into the seat, defeated.
Dex leans down and gives me a brief kiss. “Good girl.”
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Spence is watching us and fighting a smirk on his face. His shoulders rock in silent laughter. Fuck off, my eyes tell him. I know he’s thinking about the song he wrote and how he used to relentlessly tease me about my proclivities. At least I got laid.
Asher goes with Dex. They return a few seconds later with a ruffled and dirty Nate clutching his head.
I gasp. “What happened?” I rush over to fuss over him and pull him to the chair.
“I don’t know. The bathroom door was stuck, so I walked around back to, you know… then someone hit me over the back of the head. I didn’t see anyone because they got me from behind.”
His hair is matted with coagulated blood. It makes me nervous to look at it closer. I’m always afraid of hurting people. I delicately part his salt-and-pepper gray hair. He sucks in a break and jerks. I almost jerk away, too. But I’m distracted by the nasty gash—his skin is split open, exposing the yellowish fatty tissue below.
I look up at Ash. “He needs to go get stitched up and checked out for a concussion.”
“I can take him.” Ash already has his keys out.
Dex and Asher help Nate to Asher’s truck. I watch them go and then turn to face the others. Both are watching me, and I sigh in resignation.
“I’m sorry,” I say, sitting in the vacated chair. “I’ll understand if you want to get as far as you can away from me.”
One of them snorts, but I don’t look up. I twist my hands in my lap and crack my knuckles.
“Are you kidding?” Spaz starts. “This is awesome. The most excitement I’ve had in ages. Besides, it’s not like we got anything better to do.”
“Yeah, but it’s dangerous to be around me. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’d feel horrible if something happened to you because of me.”
I already do feel horrible. Jesus, Nate probably hates me. Or he will when he gets his wits about him.
“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” Spence says, punching Spaz in the shoulder. “But what we’re working on here is good stuff. I’m not gonna pass because your producer got knocked around.”
“I think what my friend’s tryin’ to say is that the risk is better than working Jet’s Pizza for the rest of our lives.”
“You work at Jet’s Pizza?” I blink.
“Lainey, babe,” Spaz says, pulling a joint from his pocket. “We don’t have a band anymore. We fuck around mostly. Play with other people here and there, but things didn’t work for us the way they did you.”
He lights up, and smoke billows through the room. I hear the door snick behind me, and I’m tempted to give him shit by informing him that Dex is a cop, just to see the look on his face. But Dex’s undercover, and he likely doesn’t give a shit about my pot-smoking friend.
“I’m glad you’re in,” Dex says from right behind me, and I startle a bit. “Because I gotta plan.”
The door opens again, blinding me with sunlight. Two people enter.
“Oh, whoa… fuck, man. Some bitch’s gettin’ toasted in here,” Holly says. “Oh shit, it’s my lil troll doll.”
Holly squeals and practically tackles Spaz out of his chair.
Marcus walks over to Dex. “What’s up, man?”
“Right on time,” Dex says.
Marcus and Dex do some elaborate secret-handshake thing before man hugging, complete with back slaps. I look back, and Holly seems giddy as she stands behind Spaz, running her hands through his hair and pulling it up until he does sort of resemble a troll doll. Spaz has his eyes closed, looking perfectly content.
“This part doesn’t hurt either. You always come with a gaggle of hot chicks that want to play with my hair.” He grins, eyes still closed.
“What’s the plan?” Spencer asks.
That grabs Dex’s attention. “Right. I think you guys need to have a concert.”