Melody of Truth (Love of a Rockstar Book 3) Page 11

  “Is there somewhere in particular you wanted to go?”

  “My friend Tanya told me about this amazing wholesale place on 55th and Lexington.”

  “What do they sell?”

  “Purses, shoes—ya know, the usual stuff.”

  “Is it legal? I don’t want to unknowingly walk into an underground sting operation.”

  Jane rolled her eyes. “Yes MOM. Where’s your adventurous spirit?”

  “I don’t have one when you’re around. Your safety comes first.”

  “I can handle myself, Melody. I’m twenty-one,” she said, as if twenty-one equaled a sense of maturity. She had a long time coming before I cut the reins and stopped worrying about her.

  I stood and slung my camera bag over my shoulder. “Shall we?”

  “Sure. Unless you’re curious about going to a male strip club. I’ll be your wingman.”

  “I’m good.”

  “Then what was the deal with your sudden interest in them? Horny for some bare man flesh?”

  “Gross.”

  She laughed. “Hey, I wouldn’t blame you. It has been almost a month since you’ve seen Marco.”

  “I talked to him the other day on Skype.”

  “That isn’t the same.” Jane came to a stuttering halt and looked me up and down. I squirmed under her assessing stare. “Wait a second, you’re wearing your guilty expression,”

  “No I’m not.”

  She pointed to my mouth accusingly as I nibbled my bottom lip. “Yes you are.”

  Damn my sister for knowing me backward and forward, inside and out. Note to self: find a new nervous habit.

  “It’s nothing. Let’s go find ourselves a counterfeit purse.”

  As I attempted to walk ahead, she grabbed my elbow. “You aren't getting off that easily. Remember, we don’t withhold secrets.”

  “We concocted that rule when we were teenagers.”

  “So?”

  “So are you really telling me you have been completely truthful with me?”

  Jane skirted around the question, as expected. “We aren’t talking about me. We are talking about you. Please…” Her puppy dog eyes went into full effect. “I won’t judge.”

  “Sean and I kissed!” I blurted it out and threw my arms in the air, relieved to get it off my chest and out in the open. “There!”

  Jane squealed. “Was he amazing? He looks like he would be amazing. Those lips are like two pillows.”

  “Beyond amazing.” It was the truth; Sean had the skills of a master kisser, rough but gentle. “I shouldn’t be kissing anyone besides my fiancé though. “

  She held up her forefinger. “You had a minor lapse in judgment. You’re still holy Melody, the moral compass of right and wrong.”

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

  “It is what it is.”

  Unsettled by her backhanded compliment, I paused before climbing into the cab idling at the curb. Jane gave the driver directions to the warehouse and he maneuvered the car into the lanes of traffic where we sat, crawling forward and waiting.

  “Do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Marco?”

  Jane looked as startled as I was. The question had popped free without a filter. She looked at me from the corner of her eye. “Do you feel like you are?”

  “No…” The churning in my gut said otherwise.

  Jane leaned against the window and folded her arms across her chest. “I always thought you had things figured out to a T—career, husband, kids, and a white picket fence. Now, the veil has been lifted and I’m realizing you’re as lost as am I.”

  Irritation skirted down my spine at her smug tone. “Forget I mentioned it.”

  The landscape of the city faded into the suburbs. Ticky-tacky houses and chain restaurants sprung free from the manicured lawns. I was surprised, having been under the impression we were venturing to a seedy area of downtown.

  Baffled, I looked over at Jane. “Are you positive this is the correct direction?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  “What’s the name? I’ll type it into Google maps.”

  “Saint Henry’s Church.”

  “We’re going to a church? Doesn’t that seem contradictory?”

  “Why? God doesn’t frown upon wholesale prices.”

  She had me there. I rested my forehead against the cool pane of glass and must have drifted off because Jane shook me awake.

  “We’re here. Do you have any cash on you?” She reached into my purse, unfolded two crisp twenties from my wallet, and handed them to the driver. “Keep the change.” She jumped out of the cab, ran around to my side, and yanked open the door. “Hurry!”

  “Jesus, what’s your rush?”

  “The Prada always goes first and I have been dying to get my mitts on a vintage 1972 silver leather tote.”

  I had always known my sister had an affinity for fashion, but I hadn’t realized to what degree. She was up to something. What? I had no idea, and frankly, I was too tired to care. Between the sex dreams, the emotional toll of what was happening between Sean and me, and the constant late night shoots, my exhaustion hovered a notch above delirium. I stumbled onto the sidewalk. The gray stone exterior of Saint Henry’s Church loomed impressively between two small craftsmen-style houses. A cross was attached to the peak of the slanted roof and the mosaic window above the front door locked my feet in place. Jesus’s hands were outspread with a ball of light in the middle, his eyes staring out in the distance, taunting me.

  Adulterer

  Cheater

  Floozy

  “I’m gonna be dead by the time we get there,” my sister called from the front steps.

  “You go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

  “What if it’s a drug ring?”

  “I have faith it won’t be considering the location.”

  “Last week a meth lab was busted in the basement of a McDonald’s. Drugs are everywhere.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled to Jesus as I joined my sister and stepped into the holy house.

  As I followed Jane down a steep set of stairs illuminated by a bare light bulb, the chances of stumbling into an illegal operation skyrocketed in my mind, as did my worry. The smell of mold clung to the damp walls.

  “We should turn around,” I said.

  “And miss out on the chance to own a Gucci wallet?”

  “Don’t you mean a Prada purse?”

  “Right.”

  “Jane where the hell are you taking me?” My voice echoed in the cramped space.

  She spun around with her finger pressed to her lips. Sighing, we continued to creep along the hallway until we arrived at a set of double doors. If I hadn’t been well versed in self-defense, you could bet every last cent in my bank account I would have dragged Jane back upstairs by the earlobe.

  “One second.”

  “Jane,” I whisper-yelled as she opened the door. “Jane!”

  It slammed shut with her on the other side. I should have learned from the last adventure we’d gone on together: a visit to a vacant field where wild Chanterelle mushrooms grew. Unbeknownst to us, it was army owned and used as a shooting range during the day. A trip to the police station later, we had decided the quiche we’d wanted to bake wasn’t worth the stern lecture we had received.

  With a resigned sigh, I went in after her. The open area resembled a gym, minus the low ceilings. Fluorescent lights buzzed and washed the room in a yellowish glow. Racks upon racks of fluffy white wedding gowns crammed the space. Women were running around, crazed by the ‘rock-bottom prices’ described by the banner on the wall in front of me.

  “Watch it, bitch!” A heavy-set woman, holding a pink monstrosity that looked like it belonged to Barbie, knocked into me as she shuffled to the door.

  I was going to kill Jane. She popped up next to me with a grin a mile wide. “Are you excited?”

  “Are you kidding me? This is my worst nightmare. Besides, I already found a gown.”

  She wri
nkled her nose. “It smells like mothballs and is yellowed at the hem.”

  “I just need to dry clean it.

  “You need to burn it and then burn it again for good measure.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “When Marco called me and said your wedding had been pushed up to—”

  “Wait! Marco called you?”

  “Yes, your future husband informed me that your wedding has been pushed up to this coming Saturday. Why didn’t you tell me? Are you not going through with it?”

  “I am…” My voice was steeped in doubt.

  “Are you really? Because you kissed Sean and it sounds like it wasn’t a one-off mistake. It sounds like you like-like him.”

  “We are friends, nothing more.”

  “Friends don’t kiss, Melody, and friends certainly don’t make you doubt your upcoming nuptials.”

  Surrounded by a sea of off-white, I had to face reality. My heart belonged to two men, yet my decision hadn’t changed. I was marrying Marco; his son deserved a healthy life, and that wouldn’t be ruined by own selfishness.

  “Melody? Jane?”

  At the sound of my father’s voice behind us, I looked at Jane, whose eyes widened, silently pleading with me to forgive her. My father lived in Tulsa, Arizona, with his girlfriend, Kristen. They had met at a wine mixer geared toward widows. She was a sweet woman in her mid-sixties who had a fondness for turquoise.

  My father’s tan complexion was one shade closer to pumpkin than it had been the last time I’d seen him, which was about six months ago. I’d had a layover and had met him for lunch at Olive Garden.

  Kristen surged forward and wrapped me in a patchouli-scented hug. “Hey, sweetie. Thanks for inviting us.”

  “Of course,” I murmured.

  As she moved on to Jane, my dad stayed where he was, his eyes radiating disapproval. I was used to it at this point. My upcoming marriage was on a long list titled Melody’s fuckups.

  “So!” Kristen’s turquoise bangles clicked together as she clapped. “Where should we start? Is there a certain designer you like?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it,” I confessed.

  “No worries. It can be quite overwhelming. When my daughter got hitched, she tried on almost hundred gowns before she choose the one.”

  A hundred? My gaze bounced around the chaos and I gulped in dread.

  My father broke his silence, blasting a cold chill into the stifling room. “I can’t stand by and watch you marry a man you have known less than two months—a man I haven’t met!”

  “Honey.” Kristen placed a placating hand on his arm, but he shook it off. With a growl, he stormed out.

  “I’m sorry, this totally wasn’t how I imagined today playing out,” Jane moaned.

  Her apology fell on deaf ears as I ran into the hallway and up the stairs. Out of breath, I pushed open the church doors and stumbled out onto the sidewalk. My father paced back and forth like a caged animal, an unlit cigarette between his lips.

  He glanced my way with a scowl. Squaring my shoulders, I prepared for the battle that was about to transpire. “Dad.”

  “Don’t dad me Melody. You’re acting carelessly.”

  “I have put a lot of thought into this and…”

  “And nothing! The act of marriage should be treated with respect, not as a means to gain citizenship.”

  “I know that!”

  My father pointed the death stick at me. “Bullshit! Ever since your mother’s death you leap without thinking about the consequences. It’s like you’re asking for trouble and I’m sick of waiting by the phone, ready to get the call that you’re injured, or worse, dead.”

  Of course it always went back to my career, a career my father despised with every bone in his body. “Compared to getting in a gun fight with rebel fighters in the Congo, marrying Marco is the safest thing I have ever done.”

  “Not for your heart, it isn’t.” He sucked in a lungful of imaginary nicotine. “I hope your mother isn’t watching what a complete and utter mess you have made of your life. She would be devastated.”

  His words were as sharp as a butcher knife, and they stabbed me right in my gut. Tears welled as I turned on my heels and did what I did best: ran as far away as my legs could take me.

  THE BAND AND I WERE in the middle of a rousing game of would-you-rather when we heard a commotion outside the tour bus.

  Ash lifted the blinds on the window and said, “Did any of you idiots invite a woman back here without putting her on the list?”

  Noah and I looked at each other. “No.”

  We sat on either side of Ash, watching the spectacle unfold. Our security guard was arguing with a woman and by the looks of it, things weren’t going well. She gestured toward the bus, then behind her.

  “How long are we going to stare instead of helping?” Ash wondered aloud. The woman hit our security guard in the chest. “Damn, she is fiery. I like fiery.”

  “You like anything with tits,” I said.

  “Not all tits are equal Sean. Not by a long shot.” He took another look outside. “But that woman has grade A boobage.”

  Rolling my eyes, I went to go put a stop to the fight between the hulking giant and Thumbelina. Noah, Ash, and I filed out of the bus and stood, watching. They were so immersed in their quarrel, they didn’t notice our presence.

  “I’m her sister! I don’t know where she is. How long—”

  Melody had been gone since the morning and it was almost dark. The idea of her alone in an unfamiliar city caused trepidation to coil tightly in my stomach.

  “You’re Melody’s sister?”

  Her chin jerked toward me. “Finally! Someone who believes me.”

  As I stepped forward, the security guard did as well. “It’s fine. You can leave us.”

  “Sir…”

  “Leave.”

  At my order, he retreated.

  “Do you want us to leave too?” Ash joked.

  I had little time for his antics. We had to find Melody. “When did you last see her?”

  Melody’s sister titled her head to the sky as she talked to the heavens. “I knew it was a bad idea to try to force a meeting between Melody and our father. They are both stubborn as mules.” She looked back down at me and grinned. “You’re Sean.”

  Their smiles matched, as did their whirlwind emotions. “And you’re…?”

  “Jane. It’s nice to meet you.”

  We shook hands for less than a second before Ash nudged me aside and cradled her palm in his. “You have gorgeous eyes.”

  “Seriously? That’s the best line you can come up with?” She scoffed. “You need to work on your moves, rock star.”

  A predatory grin spread across his face. “We can work on them together.”

  Jane scoffed again. “God, you’re like a cheesy romance hero come to life.”

  Noah and I laughed as Ash’s’ features tightened. He wasn’t used to a woman giving him a dose of his own medicine.

  I steered the conversation back on track. “Have you tried calling Melody?”

  “No,” she drawled sarcastically. “Only three million times. The bitch isn’t answering.”

  “What’s her number?”

  “She won’t respond.”

  “Let me at least try.”

  Jane recited the phone number and I punched it into my cell. Typing a quick message, I pressed send and waited. With the drama done and gone, Noah and Ash returned to their game of would-you-rather on the tour bus. Ash’s feeling on the matter was that Melody was a grown woman who needed some space and we should leave her be, but I couldn’t. She was clearly upset and nursing old wounds without anyone around to help because she was too prideful to ask for it.

  My phone buzzed. I swiped the screen to unlock it and took in the small map with a pink dot on it. Melody had sent me her location, which was Harold’s Diner on 35th and Lenora.

  Jane craned her neck to sneak a peek and laughed. “Of course she is at a diner. W
henever she is upset, she drowns her sorrows with a five-gallon jug of maple syrup.”

  I pocketed the device. “Do you want to come?”

  “I’m okay, you go—but Sean, be patient with her.”

  “I will.”

  She shook her head as if I wasn’t catching her drift. “No, really. It takes her heart a while to win the war with her head. Melody is like Mother Teresa, wanting to save the world, but even saints need someone to lift them up when the saving becomes too heavy to carry.”

  HAROLD’S DINER WAS SITUATED ACROSS the street from a funeral home on the outskirts of the city. A worn neon sign that was missing the H in Harold’s blinked lazily. My boots crunched on the gravel leading to the entrance, and when I opened the door, a hot rush of greasy air hit me in the face and a single bell chimed above me, announcing my arrival. The few patrons occupying the vinyl seats didn’t bother looking up from their meals. Melody sat near the back, her hands cradling a white mug. She looked like a lost child.

  Her tone was void of its perkiness as she spoke. “You got here fast.”

  “As fast I could.”

  As I slid into the booth across from hers, a waitress materialized. “What’s it gonna be sugar?”

  “Whatever she’s having.”

  “An Irish coffee then?”

  I gagged. Hot alcohol tasted like gasoline fluid. “Plain coffee and a stack of pancakes, extra syrup.”

  At my order, a ghost of a smile floated across her lips. “I love syrup.”

  “Your sister told me.”

  “Did she come to the tour bus?”

  “Hooting and hollering. She and my security guard almost ended up in a scuffle.”

  Melody pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry. I don’t know how she ended up there.”

  “Our location isn’t a secret, hence the security guard.”

  “Right. Did she also tell you that she flew to Atlanta, not because she wanted to spend time with her older sister—no—but because she arranged a wedding gown ambush and invited my dad along, my dad who doesn’t approve of my upcoming nuptials or any other choices I have made in my life.” As her eyes lifted, betrayal and hurt lingered in them. “Why would she do that? She knows my father and I aren’t on the best of terms.”