Melody of Truth (Love of a Rockstar Book 3) Page 18

  “Yes it is.” To prove to him this wasn’t a joke, I gently added, “It wasn’t just sex. I care for him deeply and can’t commit to forever with you when my heart belongs to another.”

  Marco eyes hardened. “Are you really going to let a young boy be sick for the rest of his life or maybe even die because you’re confusing lust with love?”

  “That doesn’t have to happen. There is a process called medical tourism. You have to call a representative and they will talk you through the process, but now that you have ten grand, you can pay for the deposit. Here.” I rifled through my bag for the papers Sean had printed out for me and thrust them at his chest. “Read about it. It could really help.”

  Marco’s nose crinkled in disgust. “He is on borrowed time Melody. You think he can wait for some damn process to go through?”

  “Maybe they will expedite it if they see how badly he needs to attend this medical clinic.”

  “We are going to stick with the original plan from before you opened your legs for some fucking rock star and thought you were special.” Marco looked at me with pity. “You aren’t special Melody. You’re just another notch on his bedpost, someone to warm his dick until he gets bored and throws you away like a piece of trash.”

  He could hurl insults until morning broke; my heart was confident in what Sean and I shared. It may have started off as an attraction, but it had developed into a lasting connection.

  “I understand you’re upset, but can you please remove the boxing gloves? We are adults and we can talk about this in an adult fashion.”

  Marco bumped my shoulder hard as he wandered into the bathroom. The door slammed with a load bang, shaking the windows. Seconds later, the sound of water running projected through the thin walls.

  I leaned against the counter and checked my phone, which was dead. Awesome. After a charger couldn’t be located in my backpack or anywhere in the apartment, I gave up on the search.

  As I waited once again for Marco, I found myself running my fingers along each piece of furniture, memories floating in the air like dust bunnies. A smile teased my lips.

  Dinner parties for nine held in the living room with makeshift tables and chairs. Broken hearts mended on the couch with ice cream and boxes of tissue. Countless meals burned in the oven that could only fit a single mini baking sheet.

  I clicked on the light in the bedroom. Crumpled sheets were shoved to the corner of the mattress and clothes littered the floor. My wedding dress, obscured in a dry cleaning bag, hung on the closet door.

  I had found it in a musty vintage store in Brooklyn. No girlfriends or family went with me to pick it out. There wasn’t champagne flowing or tears of happiness as I tried on the dress. It was just me and an older gentleman behind the counter.

  Off-white with a beaded neckline and a three-quarter-length hem, the silky material slid over my skin like water as I twirled in front of the mirror.

  It won me over in the end because it didn’t look like a wedding dress, which meant I could wear it to other parties in the future. Romantic, huh?

  Unzipping the bag, my pulse raced as it was revealed. It was uglier than I remembered, and a laugh bubbled free from my throat. The color was more of a tan and sparkles were threaded throughout the mesh skirt. Had I been blind when I’d tried it on? Blinded by fear, perhaps.

  The true picture of that day smacked me upside the head. I hadn’t twirled or admired myself in the mirror. I had taken one look at the bride I was about to become and had nearly had a panic attack. I had frantically ripped the dress from my body, thrown money at the old man, and run outside into the buzzing city streets to promptly hurl into a trashcan.

  I shed my clothes and tried on the dress for old time’s sake. It hung off my frame like a wrinkled paper bag. Not an inkling of dread or sadness radiated in my core as my image reflected back at me.

  Marco thought he could bully me into this wedding, but he was dead wrong. I had no intention of walking down the aisle to a man I wished was someone else.

  If Marco was a grownup, he wouldn’t squander the money he was given and would instead spend it on any available resource that would allow his son to live a healthy and hopefully long life. Getting on my health insurance plan wasn’t the end all, be all.

  When my fingers went to the nape of my neck to unzip myself, the rusty zipper refused to budge. I pulled, yanked, and tugged, hopping from one foot to the other before collapsing in an out-of-breath heap on the bed.

  The next time I decided to get married, I’d remind myself: don’t buy used.

  A flash of red underneath the pillow snagged my attention. Sitting upright, I flipped the lumpy object off the mattress and revealed a racy fire-engine red thong.

  Marco’s laughter clicked into place. He thought my cheating was funny because he was doing it too.

  I picked up the thong with my fingertips and marched into the bathroom. Marco squealed like a little girl as I yanked the shower curtain back.

  Shampoo suds covered his hair. He scowled as he wiped the soap from his face and said, “I’m taking a shower, if you couldn’t see that already. Unless you are here to join me, get out.”

  I hurled the skanky undergarment at him and it plastered to his wet chest. “Is this the kind of marriage you want?”

  Marco arched a brow. “Real mature, Melody.”

  “I don’t care if it isn’t mature. You aren’t just friends with Jay, you’re fucking her and yet you still want to marry me. Why?! Why are you fighting for this marriage?!”

  “You’re being overly dramatic. Sex is sex. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It does mean something to me. I fought like hell to win the war against my attraction to Sean and my subsequent feelings, yet here you are acting as if cheating is as natural as breathing.”

  “People aren’t supposed to sleep with only one person the rest of their lives. It isn’t programed in our DNA.”

  “Then why get married?!

  “You know why.”

  Frustration nipped at my nerves. “Then look at the research I printed out about medical tourism.”

  “Can we talk about this when there isn’t soap dripping in my eyes?”

  “No.”

  Marco ignored my stubbornness and yanked the curtain closed, but he couldn’t get rid of me that easily. Tearing it back open, I turned the faucet off.

  The water trickled to a stream and he growled, “What the fuck?”

  In the heat of his anger, I remained cool as a cucumber. “This isn’t a discussion we can put off.”

  “I need five minutes. Five minutes!”

  The calm lasted all of two seconds before I yelled, “And I need you to tell me why you won’t even consider looking into medical tourism!”

  “BECAUSE HE ISN’T REAL!” Marco roared lough enough that half the building probably heard him.

  Stumbling backward against the sink, my brows pulled together as I absorbed what he’d said and tried it to make sense of it. What did he mean he wasn’t real? The paint fumes he was inhaling had gone to his head; that was the only possible explanation.

  Marco’s chest rose and fell rapidly as if he had run a ten-mile loop. His wild eyes locked onto my face and I was concerned for my safety. Not wanting to get stabbed, I extended a peace offering in the form of a towel. He batted it from my hand like a deranged bear.

  “Finish your shower. I’ll just be out here…” I gestured toward the living room with my thumb.

  “Melody, he isn’t real.” Marco looked at me from under his lashes with a strange amount of clarity in his gaze. “I don’t have a son.”

  I laughed at the joke he had to be playing on me. “I saw him on FaceTime.”

  “That was my cousin. His name is Hendrix. He is twelve years old, likes superheroes, playing with his brothers, and baseball, and is perfectly healthy.”

  “But…” I sank onto the closed toilet lid as the ground tilted under my feet. Words haphazardly strung together spilled out of my mouth. “Ho
w? Why would…? What?”

  “I needed a green card in order to stay here and pursue my art. My student visa was running out and when I mentioned it, you didn’t offer to help, so I figured the only way to get you to marry me would be to concoct a sob story.”

  His earnest tone made me glance up. “You’re serious?”

  “I am.”

  “And you were going to force me into marrying you based on a lie? “

  Marco scoffed as he picked the towel up off the floor and secured it around his waist. “I didn’t force you. You agreed of your own free will.”

  “Because I thought a kid was going to die if I didn’t!”

  “Minor details.”

  I didn’t know what happened—one minute I was sitting down, and the next my foot was between Marco’s legs. His eyes bulged as he crumbled into a heap, clutching his precious jewels. I wished I could say I felt bad, but I didn’t.

  Marco had preyed on my weak spot just like Sean had said he would, and while I wanted to punch myself for being such an idiot, I was glad the truth was now in the open.

  Free to return to Sean without any shackles around my wrists, I was antsy to start our future together.

  “I’ll mail you the ring,” I said to Marco.

  Grabbing my backpack, I ran out the door. Halfway down the hallway, my neighbor, Colette struck her head out from her apartment. “Everything okay dear?”

  “Everything is peachy. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

  She waved away my apology. “Sleep is a distant memory at this point.”

  “Are you taking your medicine? Marco said he came by and….”

  “Don’t worry about me. You have your own life to lead.” Eyeing my clothes suspiciously, Colette asked. “Where are you off to?”

  “To start my new future. Have a good night and don’t forget….”

  “Yea yea. Pain in my butt,” she mumbled as she shut the door.

  Laughing, I skipped down the stairs with a wide smile. As I stepped onto the street, my gaze soaked in the grunginess of the city. The pungent perfume of garbage and cigarette smoke hung in the air.

  “Goodbye New York,” I whispered. “Thanks for the memories.”

  STANDING IN FRONT OF MELODY’S building, I double-checked the address Jane had texted me and went over to the call box. I pushed the buzzer for apartment 302, and it rang several times without any answer.

  I should have texted Melody to let her know I was coming instead of showing up there at the crack of dawn, hoping she was around.

  My romantic showmanship a huge fail, I caved and called her. When that went straight to voicemail, worry began to set in. Luckily, someone left right when I was contemplating throwing rocks at her window.

  Slipping inside the entryway, I walked up to the third floor. Jane had warned me that Marco might be at the apartment, since he and Melody lived together, but I wasn’t afraid of a fight if it came to that. My knuckles were already bruised from Matthew’s face.

  I walked down the dingy carpeted hallway to the very end. The numbers hung crooked on the door and I straightened them before knocking. Adrenaline threaded through my veins as a very long ten seconds passed before I tried again, harder this time.

  As the ten seconds eased into almost a minute, I rocked uneasily back and forth on my heels.

  “Melody?!” I yelled through the thick wooden frame. “It’s me Sean! Open up!” My fist pounded on the door. “Melody?!”

  “Young man! You need to cut that out right this minute. It’s way too early in the morning to be causing a ruckus.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the old woman two doors down and her eyes narrowed on mine. “Who are you?”

  “I’m a friend of Melody’s. Is she around?”

  “How can I trust you’re not a murder?”

  “Uh, because I’m not. My name is Sean Dallis. I’m the drummer for rock star Matthew Lee.”

  The old woman tilted her roller-covered head. “My granddaughter listens to him. He is too sexual for my taste.”

  I laughed. “He’s not for everyone.”

  “Ain’t that truth,” she humphed. Opening the door wider, she stepped aside and said, “Come in. I’ll make you some tea while you wait for Melody to come back.”

  “I should really be scoring the city, looking for her. It’s important.”

  “In a city of million plus people? How are you going to manage to pull that off?”

  “I’m not sure.” Because I really wasn’t’. My plan to fly here was half-baked at best and hadn’t prepared for any hiccups.

  The old woman padded into her apartment. “Would you like cream or sugar in your tea?”

  Faced with no other option than to stick it out, I wandered in after her. The hallway opened up to a tiny living room that had very few pieces of furniture, but the walls were lined with photographs. Upon closer inspection, I saw they depicted a ballerina throughout the different stages of her career. She exuded grace and poise in each snapshot.

  “Fifteen years I have been retired, yet, I still miss it.” The old woman set the tray on her coffee table and beamed at her legacy. “It was a fun ride that I would have done forever if age and achy joints hadn’t gotten in the way.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No matter. Sit.” She beckoned to the sofa as she lowered herself into a floral printed armchair. “How do you know Melody?”

  “She was hired to do a documentary on Matthew Lee and his first solo tour.”

  “Ah. Have you seen any of her films? She is very talented.”

  “She is,” I agreed. “One of the best filmmakers of this generation.”

  Pouring the steaming liquid out of the teapot into two mugs, she dropped a sugar cube in and added a splash of milk to hers, while I took mine black.

  She cupped her hands around the cup and regarded me over the rim. “You have feelings for her. Yes?”

  “Is that obvious?”

  “A man doesn’t cause a ruckus over a woman unless he is head over heels for her. My late husband once caused a traffic jam because he thought he had lost the ring he was going to propose to me with.”

  “Did he find it?”

  She chuckled. “It was in his suit pocket the whole time.”

  Love - a universal emotion that brought out the craziness in all of us. I sipped the earthy brew and smiled. “Did the proposal at least go off without a hitch?”

  “After he took a dive into the duck pond at Central Park by accident it went off swimmingly. Her eyes shined with memories of yesterdays past. “My Harry had as much gracefulness as an elephant, but he was my elephant. You know?”

  “I do.”

  She cleared her throat. “Anyways, are you here to stop Melody’s wedding?”

  At the use of the present tense, my heart seized. Was the old woman withholding information from me? “She flew to New York to do that herself.”

  “Oh? Shame. I liked Marco - he was a nice young man.”

  “Nice? He lied to her about having a sick kid and tried to con her into a lifetime commitment for a green card. The man is an asshole who preyed on her weakness, which is why I flew to New York. To tell her that, so if you know something...”

  She batted her eyes innocently but I didn’t buy the act. Most women her age knew more than they let on about what went on around them. “I might have seen her come out of her apartment last night in her wedding gown which looked rather awful on her to be frank. The color completely washed out her complexion.”

  “What?!” My knee banged the table as I jumped out of my seat. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

  “What would have been the point? You’re too late.”

  “No.” I refused to believe Melody had gone through with the marriage when she proclaimed she was mine a mere eight hours ago. She wouldn’t have betrayed me like that.

  Your ex-wife did, a voice taunted, inside my head.

  “I’m sorry.” The old woman looked at me with pity. “Love isn’t kind.”


  “Do you have any clue where she is?”

  “You can try the coffee shop next to Saint Vartan Cathedral. She goes there for her morning coffee.”

  I set my mug down and rushed from the apartment without saying goodbye. Car fumes burned my lungs as I headed north, weaving in out and of the crowds that populated the streets. My arms pumped at my sides with one single mission driving me forward - I had to get to Melody. If she wasn’t there, then I would track her down until my feet were bloody.

  In the distance, I spotted the pointed spheres of the cathedral. My pace quickened to a sprint. When I arrived, my gaze searched widely for the coffee shop, which turned out to be kitty corner from the church. It was Melody’s kind of place, un-pretentious and in desperate need of an update. Once the walk sign cleared, I jogged across the street with a level of anticipation that rivaled Christmas mornings as a child.

  Wrap around windows offered a clear view inside. Nearly empty, my gaze was immediately drawn to a woman near the back. Her head bent down as she scribbled on a piece of paper. I didn’t need to see her face - I would recognize Melody anywhere.

  My palm pressed against the glass pane, overcome with the taste of sweet relief. “Thank God.”

  I should have trusted Melody and not let old insecurities threaten to ruin us. Ready to have her back in my arms and my bed, I moved toward the door when a man slipped into the booth across from her. I stilled as Melody glanced up with a blinding smile - a smile reserved for the ones she loved. All I could see of the mystery man was his hair, which matched Marco’s - muddy brown.

  I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but my heart had other plans. It ricocheted off the walls of it’s chamber, thumping loudly as the sounds of the city dimmed to a low throb.

  She laughed at whatever he said, her eyes twinkling with joy, her face alit with a newly wed glow. He picked up Melody’s palm and pressed his lips to the top of her hand. Red exploded in my line of sight and I had half a mind to march in there, fist flying. What would be the point though? Melody had chosen her destiny and it wasn’t me. Fuck, it probably never was. I had been a sapless fool.