Love Resolution (Black Cat Records series) (25 page)

“Marcus, no one can be in control one hundred percent of the time.” She finished typing. “What we have to do is develop coping strategies for those other circumstances. Fortunately, you have many resources to call upon. Your family and your fiancée come to mind.”

“I don’t have a fiancée.” His lips turned down. He reached a hand down into his jean pocket and fingered the ring. “Not anymore.”

“Oh?”

He dropped back down on the couch, opposite the rattan chair she sat in and put his head in his hands. After a moment, he glanced up and met her gaze. “I really fucked up,” he admitted.

“Ah, yes, the woman who’s been on all the entertainment shows.” She glanced down at her computer. “I’m sad to admit that even I watch those things.”

“For the record, I didn’t sleep with her” he clarified, voice laden with self-reproach. “I just wanted Avery to think that I did.”

“It seems to me that you are way too focused on your shortcomings. Although, it’s noble to set high personal standards, the trouble comes when you continually punish yourself for not living up to them.” She met his eyes. “Marcus, you’re a perfectionist, but no one is perfect. You can’t define yourself by your flaws. We need to retrain the way you think about yourself. I want you to focus on the good things that make you the man you are, and when I see you tomorrow we’ll go over those, alright?”

“Be a real short list,” he muttered as he walked her out of his hotel room.

“Where’s Avery?” Marcus demanded, finally cornering Sam near the melting ice sculpture. He’d been trying to get a word with her the entire evening. “The damn event’s almost over.”

“On her way to Phoenix,” she answered, glancing down at her watch. “Probably almost there by now.”

“The hell she is.” His eyes narrowed. “She’s on the Tempest bus, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” she said distractedly, returning the wave of one of the departing VIP’s. “Thanks for coming, Mr. Yanamoto.”

“And you let her?” Marcus growled.

“Um, yeah.” Her chestnut brows lifted and she leaned toward him. “She needed some space. I don’t blame her. Can you?”

“That’s irrelevant.” He frowned. “I think it’s a real bad plan for her to go hang out on a tour bus for fifteen hours with a bunch of guys like them.” His jaw hardened. “Last time I checked, Avery’s a member of Brutal Strength, not Tempest. And I’m pretty sure she’s bound by legal jargon to travel with us.” He let out a long breath. “Trevor,” he called, making eye contact with the band manager.

“What’s up?” Trevor asked as he crossed the room toward them.

Marcus heard the apprehension in his tone and didn’t blame him. It had been a taxing twenty-four hours for all of them. No one wanted more drama, least of all him, but no way was he going to let this slide. “I want you to get in touch with someone in legal at Black Cat. I need documentation to present to our wayward guitarist when we arrive in Phoenix. I want her to understand that she can’t just take off on the Tempest tour bus whenever the mood strikes her.”

Placing the bottled water down on the wooden deck beneath his feet, Marcus took a deep breath and stared out at the bay. Sailboats and motorboats bobbed in the gentle sway where they were moored in the marina. The night was quiet, the lonely silence occasionally interrupted by the sound of a buoy dinging in the distance. Solitary patches of orange light emanating from the dock lighting cast a somber glow on the scene. He tipped his head back into the gentle breeze that ruffled his hair.

Regret and a myriad of memories burned through his brain, all of them involving her.

Writing songs together.

Her laughter the day they had visited Granville Market.

Her smile when the water buffalo had eaten from her hand at the farm.

The feel of her warm hands skimming over his naked flesh. Coming apart together in each other’s arms.

The contentment he felt in her presence.

They had moved too fast.

Wrong.

He
had moved too fast.

Too fast to have fully appreciated the value of the woman he’d had and now lost.

His hands gripped the cold steel rail in front of him. He stared out into the dark night. Heaviness descended over his thoughts like a wall cloud as he contemplated a future without her.

“Please?” Avery begged. “Just one more time?”

“Are you sure you can take it?” Bryan asked.

“Man up,” she told him.

“Ok, but this is the last time.” Bryan crossed his stretched out legs at the ankles and hit reset.

“Thanks.” She gripped the controller tightly in her hands and focused on the screen.

“Ugh! Enough already,” Warren groaned from his seat on the couch across from them. “If I have to listen to Rainbow Road music one more time I’m gonna throw myself off the bus into oncoming traffic.”

“Promise?” Bryan deadpanned without looking away from the flat screen TV.

Concentrating, the tip of her tongue between her lips, controller extended in front of her, Avery leaned suddenly to the side, trying to keep her avatar from sliding off the elevated Mario Kart track.

“You’re falling behind again.” Bryan glanced at her and smiled.

“Not for long.” She lobbed a red shell at him and slid past his vehicle, making her Koopa character wave tauntingly.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Bryan said, leaning forward. “I’ve got a star.”

“Crap.” Avery moved forward to the edge of the leather couch, gaze locked on the finish line. She was almost there when suddenly Bryan’s cart, sparkling with gold immunity, bumped into hers and knocked it off into space. The screen changed to show his characters celebrating with the trophy. He’d beaten her again. “Bastard,” she muttered, pursing her lips.

“Mmm. Bring those closer, Red. I think after beating you… fifteen times, I deserve a victory kiss,” Bryan drawled.

“Oh no, let’s don’t,” War said mockingly, glancing at them over the top of his Playboy magazine. “I’m starving and I don’t want to lose my appetite.” He pulled out his cell. “What are you guys in the mood for?”

“I could go for a burger,” Bryan told him.

“Sounds good,” War agreed, throwing his magazine down on the table. “And I wanna get laid.”

“Sheesh, man,” Bryan hissed, inclining his head at Avery.

“What?” War shrugged, giving her a pointed look. “She’s no blushing virgin. She’s been shacking up with Marcus Anthony, for fuck sake.”

“Shut up!” Bryan leapt to his feet and grabbed a fistful of War’s t-shirt.

“Get your hands off me, dude,” War warned, lowering his voice. “You should never have brought her on the bus with us. I told you before. Nothing good’s going to come of this.”

“War’s right, Bryan.” Avery set her controller down on the beige leather and stood. “I shouldn’t have come.” Her voice warbled. “I couldn’t stomach being on that plane, but it’s not my place to be here either. I should have booked a commercial flight to Phoenix. ”

“It’s alright, Avery,” War interrupted, shrugging out of Bryan’s hold. “I’m sorry. I’m just hungry and irritable. I’ll check with the guys in the back, and we’ll decide on a place to eat.”

“I’m sorry he said those things to you,” Bryan apologized when War was out of earshot. “He’s got no regulator on his mouth.”

“It’s ok,” she said, glancing away. “I was so focused on getting away from Marcus, I didn’t think about how my being here might make things awkward for you.”

“It’s not.” He turned her face back toward his. “I like having you here. We were having a good time until a couple of minutes ago, right?” he whispered, sifting his fingers through her hair.

“Yes.” She sighed.

“Can we just agree to drop it then?”

“Ok, but…” She trailed off, distracted by her cell lighting up with an incoming message. She went to the couch and picked it up. It was a text message from Sam.

Sam: FYI. Marcus is PISSED about the bus.

Avery: 2 bad.

Sam: Right…You ok with them?

Avery: Yes. Why?

Sam: Just checking. CU soon.

“Everything ok?” Bryan asked, watching her face.

She lifted her chin. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

They both glanced up as the pneumatic pocket door to the back slid open and a rumpled Dizzy stumbled in, flopping down on the couch beside them. His white blond hair was all smashed down on one side.

Sager wandered in after him, pulling a brush through his thick dark hair. “Dude,” he said addressing Dizzy, “fix your hair. We’re gonna stop at Hooters. Looking like that you’re gonna scare all the chicks away.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m chick nip. They don’t give a fuck what my hair looks like, bro. It’s what’s down here,” he grabbed his crotch, “that draws ‘em in.”

Bryan rolled his eyes.

When they pulled into the parking lot at Hooters, there was a crowd of people lined up in front of the restaurant. As they exited the Tempest emblazoned bus, several people held out cells and took pictures.

“Shit. I forgot it’s a Friday night,” Bryan said to Avery.

“Avery Jones,” a guy in a Brutal Strength t-shirt yelled out, walking toward them.

Avery stiffened.

“Fuck,” War mumbled as they watched everyone in the crowd turn to stare. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

Avery signed the piece of paper the guy handed her and posed for a picture with him. Then she turned to Bryan. “I should have stayed on the bus. Can you give me the key? I’m not really hungry anyway.”

“No way.” Bryan reached for her hand and squeezed. “We’ll just find another place. Come on guys. This place is too crowded.”

Grumbling, they filed back onto the bus. After driving down the road a little further, they found a bar called Nate’s in an industrial section of town. At least, she thought it said Nate’s. With half the lettering missing from the neon sign, it was difficult to be sure.

“This is more like it,” War said to Bryan.

“Yeah,” Dizzy agreed. “Reminds me of Footit’s back home. Our kind of place.”

The adobe building had a sagging porch precariously held up with rustic wood beams and a tin roof. “Yelp says this place has the best burgers in Phoenix,” War declared.

As soon as they stepped inside the hostess informed them it was still happy hour. The guys high fived each other, immediately sold.

She led them to a corner booth. The smoky interior seemed especially dark through the mirrored sunglasses Avery had borrowed from War. She scooted to the middle of the booth after him. Bryan sat on her other side with Dizzy next to him. Across the table, King’s lips quirked up. It was the first time the cut drummer had ever made eye contact with her. At least she thought he did. The glasses made it difficult to be sure.

“She looks better in that scarf than you do, Warren,” King commented.

Avery smiled.

“Definitely,” Bryan agreed, running a finger over the wide swath that lay over her forehead and following the material down to the tail end where the gauzy black material lay over her chest. His knuckle skimmed lightly over the top of her breast.

She sucked in a breath and shifted closer to War, who gave her a puzzled look.

A young waitress in a low cut top and tight jeans came over and took their order. Her gaze moved repeatedly over the group, her eyes eventually widening in recognition. “Hey aren’t you the opening band for Brutal Strength?” she asked.