Lead (35 page)

“Lena?” He blinked at me in the violet and grey evening light. The weight around my heart lifted a little.

“Hey, Daddy.”

He looked me over, face frozen in shock. “My girl’s come home!”

“Yeah. I’m back.” Gah. Instantly, I turned on the waterworks and my face was a mess. My emotions needed to calm the fuck down.

Dad took two big steps forward, giving me the best hug possible when laden down with takeout. The delicious scent of Honey Chicken made my mouth water and my tummy growl. It’d be too much to ask that I be one of those girls that actually loses weight when her love life goes to shit, apparently.

I cuddled in against him, taking comfort.

“Good to have you home, sweetheart,” he said.

“Good to be home.” And it was.

For a moment, we just stared at one another, smiling in wonder. It was nice to know some things couldn’t be lost. The bond between me and my dad was one of those things.

“Was a bad business, what your sister did,” he said. “Your mother and I gave her firm words over it.”

“You did?” Huh, I’d always thought Alyce the Wonder Kid could do no wrong. There you go.

“Well of course we did. Though you were always too much of a handful for that idiot Brandon. He would never have made you happy.” Dad looked down at me over the rim of his glasses. “And you’re still not happy. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I got my heart broken again.” I chuckled, shrugged. “Stupid me, huh?”

“Stupid him, more like it. My girl’s a queen. Any boy that can’t see that doesn’t deserve to get within spitting distance.” The man should be president. He said the nicest damn things.

“Thanks, Dad.”

He just stared at me, waiting for more information.

“It really is a long story,” I said.

A particularly high-pitched, ear-shattering scream communicating what I supposed was extreme delight came from within the house. I winced.

“It’s going to be a long night,” sighed Dad. “What do you say we go inside, get the greetings out of the way, and then go hide out down in the basement with my beer fridge?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Your mother missed you, Lena.” He dug into his coat pocket for the keys. An impossible process given his many tasty burdens.

“Here, let me help.” I took one of the bags off his hands. “I missed her too. I just needed to get away for a while, find myself and stuff.”

“And what’d you find?”

“I found that I still have no sense when it comes to choosing men. But you know what, Dad?”

“What, Lena?” he asked with a smile.

“I’m okay on my own.”

His keys jingled as he fiddled about, searching for the right one. “Of course you are, you were always the strongest out of my girls. Your sister was always jealous of you, you know?”

“Get out of here.” I laughed. The whole idea was ridiculous. “Shiny, perfect Alyce?”

“Try shiny, sassy Lena. Always ready with a clever comeback and able to talk to anyone.” Dad smiled and pushed the front door open.

Light and noise assailed us along with many girls crying my name in surprise.

“Hi.” I gave a finger wave.

Alyce gave me a tremulous smile. Five-foot-eight and willowy slender, with a glossy fall of mahogany hair. “Lena. Hey.”

“Hi,” I repeated, just proving exactly how excellent I was with conversation.

Dad squeezed past me, taking the food into the kitchen. Her bridesmaids watched on with big curious eyes, the damn gossips. News of my return would no doubt be texted all over town within minutes.

“Thanks for coming back,” said my sister, looking all sorts of shy and uncertain. Her gaze wandered all over the place, unable to stay on me for long.

“Not a problem.”

Then my pint-sized hurricane of a mother flew out of the kitchen and tackle-hugged me. Our ample bosoms slammed together with an “oomph!” Rock-and-roll wrestlers would have been on their asses. My glasses were most definitely askew.

“About time,” she whispered. “Welcome back, honey.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I hugged her back until my arms ached. This had been the right thing to do, coming home. I felt better already, lighter. I could put myself back together in peace here. Forget about rock stars and slick suits and all the rest.

Mom, Dad, and I piled our plates high with Sweet and Sour Pork and so on, then retreated downstairs. The feral female bridesmaid pack could run wild with their squeeing on the ground level. It seemed even mom was ready for an estrogen break.

We quickly outvoted dad and the game got turned off in favor of an old black-and-white movie that was on TV. It was nice, being home, being with my parents, all of it. Very nice.

“Another beer, Lena?” asked Dad from his seat in the corner.

“I take it that’s your subtle way of asking me to go fetch you one?”

“I’m an old man. You have to look after your father.”

“Ri-i-ight.”

Mom just tittered. Lord knew how many white wines she’d sucked down before we came home. I didn’t begrudge her, Alyce’s wedding plans had obviously taken their toll.

The basement was Dad’s man palace. A huge flat-screen TV, comfy couches, and of course, the aforementioned beer fridge in the corner. Framed pictures of football jerseys lined the walls. Sometimes I wondered if Dad regretted not having sons, but he’d never said or indicated anything of the like. My parents were good people. Any issues I had body wise or whatever were my own. And while it was seriously great to be back home, I didn’t belong here long term.

Forget the past, I was going to do my thing (whatever that was) and be happy. Decision made.

I grabbed my dad’s beer, the second, however, I hovered over. I didn’t have a drinking problem. Not drinking had been something I did in support of Jimmy.

“Fuck it,” I mumbled, snatching another cold one from the fridge. I could kick back with my folks and enjoy a drink without it being a problem. Jimmy Ferris did not rule me in any way, shape, or form. Never had and never would. Not that he’d ever felt I needed to not drink, it’d been my show of solidarity and how far had that gotten me?

Whatever. It was time to kick back and relax. I was having a beer.

“Isn’t that the man you were working for?” asked Mom.

I turned and there they were, spread out in full vibrant color, coming at me live from Hollywood. Jimmy and Liv on the red carpet at some event. He looked so damn good with his dark hair styled back and a black suit on. It was like a knife twisting inside of my chest. My whole body went into shock. The beer bottles slipped from my fingers, smashing upon the tiled floor. Glass glittered and foaming beer had splashed everywhere. I looked up and he was gone, the ad was over, the news had moved on. Our sweet old black-and-white movie returned to the screen.

Mom and Dad were already out of their chairs and rushing at me.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, staring uselessly at the mess I’d created. My brain had stalled. Jimmy certainly however hadn’t missed a beat. He’d smashed my heart, thrown me out, and moved on with being the rock ’n’ roll bad boy.

“Fuck him,” I whispered.

My sister dashed down the stairs. “What was that?”

“Your sister had an accident,” said Mom, grabbing a towel out of the pile of laundry beside the dryer.

“I made a mistake,” I agreed. “A really big one.”

Dad blinked at me owlishly from behind his glasses. “Oh, sweetheart.”

The tears started and they didn’t stop for a long, long time. I think I finally cried myself dry.

I’m pretty damn sure Dante meant to make weddings one of the levels of hell and just forgot.

I sat alone in the corner of the grand ballroom of the Long Oak Lodge as folk mingled and danced all around me. The room had been decked out in everything silver and white. Balloons, sashes, flowers, you name it. The overwhelming amount of blooms reminded me of Lori’s funeral, the sashes, of Jimmy’s silk ties. He’d said the entire world was a trigger for him when it came to addiction. I now understood exactly what he meant. My heroin was six-foot-one and as gorgeous as sin. It’d taken me higher than I’d ever been before, running riot through my veins. Then, not so surprisingly, it had indeed delivered me to the gutter.

You could say I had a bit of a self-pity thing going on in my party girl corner.

I took another sip of lemonade through my sparkly wedding straw.

Fun times. Broken hearted people really did need to just be left the fuck alone. We’re not suitable company for anyone.

Fairy lights and candles provided the moodiest of lighting while up on the stage, a band belted out rock and pop love song classics. I’d borrowed a dress off an old friend (knee length silvery gray satin and lace–quite nice if a little tight in the chest area). Brandon had come near me once and I’d shown him my teeth. No, really I had. It was actually pretty damn funny how fast he ran away. He didn’t try talking to me again. Apparently, I had issues forgiving people who said shitty things to me.

Now, it was near the midnight hour and the party was finally showing signs of winding down. Alyce and Brandon slow danced in the middle of the dance floor, giving each other loving looks. Despite their dubious beginning, I think they actually had a chance of making it and all the best to them. Mom and Dad danced alongside them, indulging in the occasional smooch. Everyone seemed to be having a great time.

Uncle Bob Lambada’d past and I gave him two thumbs up.

“That’s great. You go, Uncle Bob,” I said without a single touch of sarcasm because I’m awesome like that.

I slipped down my glasses, rubbing at the bridge of my nose. A headache had been brewing behind the back of my eyes for hours now thanks to the overly complicated updo I’d opted for. It looked gorgeous but it pulled like holy hell. And I didn’t want to think about how long it was going to take me to pick out all the bobby pins.

I didn’t notice the guy in the black suit at first. I was pretty damn busy feeling sorry for myself. He was just a shadow moving through the drifting figures of couples on the dance floor. When a scuffle broke out over the microphone, however, then he had my full attention.

“Back the fuck off,” a gruff voice said over the loud speakers. It was strangely familiar.

Gasps were heard. Then faint voices argued on, only just audible over the airwaves.

“Yeah, I get it’s a wedding,” he said, nice and clear. “I’ve got the perfect song for the happy couple.”

“No. It can’t be.” I sat forward, squinting, trying to see through all the candles and balloon strings hanging down from the ceiling. “That’s not possible.”

The softer voice fought back up front. People shuffled on the dance floor, the crowd growing restless. I don’t think this wedding hijacking had been very well staged.

“Fine, what do you know how to play?” the strange man in the suit asked. More talking. “Yeah, okay, do that one.”

The opening notes of a song began, some plucking of guitar strings. I knew the melody. It was Maroon 5’s “She Will Be Loved.” As pop songs went, it was pretty damn good, a bit of a favorite of mine.

Then the singing interloper opened his mouth. “Beauty queen of only …”

My knees trembled and all doubt fled.

What the ever loving fuck was he doing here?

Due to the delight of a cordless microphone, Jimmy jumped down from the stage and started searching through the crowd. Perhaps it was some bizarre coincidence and he’d decided to start performing at small events. He pushed through the sea of helium balloons, head turning this way and that. Still singing.

I didn’t know what to do.

There was this weird warm expanding sensation in my chest. I could only assume I was having a heart attack of some type. The lyrics were not pertinent. Not in the least. I’ll have you note, my smile was not broken, just a little quivery care of emotion. Also, he’d only had me three times, not “so” many times, and when I’d fallen after trying to kick in his door I landed on my ass on the floor, he did not catch me. All of this led me to the firm belief that the man was a god damn pop-singing liar.

Jimmy Ferris wove through the crowd, still searching. His voice was so suggestive and smooth, the sweetest thing I’d ever heard. Various women got flushed and fanned their faces as he passed on by, age was no discriminator. My own mother looked ready to swoon at his devilish good looks.

At the edge of the dance floor he stopped and craned his neck. Then he finally found his target. He looked straight at me, no longer bothering to sing the song. A murmur of disappointment went through the crowd.

“Lena?” his voice carried to every nook and cranny over the sound system. “What the fuck you doing sitting in the corner?”

My heart pounded hard. I just sat there being flustered. Honestly, I had no response.

Jimmy handed off the microphone to a passing waiter while the band played on regardless. His steps over to my table were measured, unhurried. I kind of wanted to shoot him for that. No way he didn’t realize I was having a veritable meltdown while he slowly strutted his stuff. The man had donned one of his custom-made suits for the occasion. I suppose I should be grateful he’d go to such effort. Sadly, due to freaking out, I was a bit too busy right then.

“Hey,” he said when he finally got close.

I raised a hand in greeting.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Huh, I could speak, so there. I smoothed my hand over the skirt of the dress, fussed with the hem. Why the hell was I nervous? He should be nervous. Shit, the bastard should be in fear of his life.

“Guess you’re wondering what I’m doing here.”

I took a deep breath. “Just a little, yeah.”

“I, um …” His gaze roved over my face, restless.

“What? You what?” I snapped eventually, losing all patience. Then I sat on my hands because this was awkward as all hell. My fingers itched to grab hold of him, to hurt or hang onto was still undecided. But it would be bad for me to kill him in public. Too many witnesses.

He grabbed the nearest seat and pulled it up, sitting down. I shuffled my butt back an inch or two, needing all the space I could get. It was really him. The oh-so-familiar lines of his face and guarded look in his eyes made me ache. I couldn’t stop staring, I drank in the sight of him in like I’d been wandering lost for years.