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

SEAN WAS RIGHT—THE STARS
were brilliant.

I leaned my head backward and pointed at the one twinkling directly above. “What’s that one called?”

Aiming his cell phone at the star, his brows crinkled. “Regulus is a white and ultramarine star in the heart of the lion constellation, Leo.”

“My sign!” A cherished memory materialized. “On Sundays, my mom read our horoscope for the week to my sister and I. With the newspaper open across her lap and our signs circled in red pen, she traced each sentence with the tip of her finger, following along as she spoke. After she was done, our predications were carefully cut free and laid on our beds. I saved them in an old shoebox in my apartment.” I looked at Sean out of the corner of my eye. “When’s your birthday?”

“December third.”

“A Sagittarius.” I sorted through my dusty knowledge of astrology. “You’re a positive person, a great listener, and have a vivid imagination. Am I close?

“Nailed it. My high school report cards all had the same comment at the bottom of each one.” In his teacher voice, he quipped, “Sean needs to stop concocting wild tales to his classmates.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Where should I start?”

His rich laugh warmed my lower stomach. I turned onto my side and tucked my hands under my cheek, content. “Start with the craziest story you were stunned anyone believed.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay I got it.” Clearing his throat, his voice took on a deeper tone as he delved into the tale. “As a hobby, my dad is a cliff diver. He jumps off the tallest peaks into pools of water without any harnesses or safety gear. Six years ago, he and I traveled to the southern end of Lanai Island in Hawaii. His mission: to conquer Kaunolu cliff, an eighty-two foot drop. Any wrong moves equals death.”

I played along and sucked in a dramatic breath. “Oh no.”

“I stood with him at the edge, uneasy about acting as his spotter; my swimming skills weren’t the strongest. I told my dad this, but he reassured me, saying he had jumped a thousand times and hadn’t died yet. ‘Just remember,’ he said, clapping me on the shoulder, ‘Count to fifteen. If I haven’t surfaced by then, call 911.’ Hands at a ninety-degree angle, he dived into the dark blue.” His eyes were grim with what was to come. “I waited, but my dad’s head didn’t break the surface. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen—no sight of him. I checked my cellphone, but didn't have any service. Running to town wasn’t an option either. By the time I made it back, my dad would have been without oxygen for fifteen minutes. Before I knew it, I was free falling. I hit the water with a jaw-numbing smack. Murky green surrounded me, making visibility slim to none.”

Unable to handle a story about the death of a parent—even a fake one—I interrupted him. “If this doesn’t have a happy ending, I don’t want to hear any more.”

“It does. I rescued my dad. The end.”

“And your friends ate it up.”

“Hell yeah they did. I was dubbed a hero for the rest of my senior year.”

Shaking my head at the gullibility of teenagers, I also couldn’t blame them. Sean weaved a masterful tale chock full of suspense and tension.

“Your imagination is colorful,” I said.

“It comes in handy when writing songs.”

“Why haven’t you produced any of them?”

Luke and Matthew had penned the majority of the singles on Five Guys’ albums. According to Wiki, they had ten number one hits between them, a powerful duo.

Sean shrugged self-consciously. “Who says they’re any good?

He acted as if the media hadn’t done any damage to his ego. Away from the harsh lights of the stage and his bandmates, the smoke screen cleared.

“Are you afraid to show your work?” I wondered.

“Matthew and Luke have seen some of my early drafts. It didn’t fit in line with the vibe Five Guys was going for.”

“Too poppy? Too rock ‘n’ roll?”

“Too angry.” At my curious gaze, a tight smile stretched his lips. “My ex-wife and I weren’t in the best spot.”

I recalled the moody lyrics from “Broken Lullabies”. “It seems like Matthew is more open to emotional angst now that he is an independent artist.”

“True.”

“Promise me you will him show him your lyrics.”

“If you promise me you will not quit documentary filmmaking and morph into a housewife.”

Thrown, I gaped at him, unsure how he had heard about my tentative break (retirement sounded too permanent).

Sean massaged the bridge of his nose and then looked up at me with utter disappointment. “It’s true then? You’re throwing away your passion because a guy asked you to? Why? Marco is a poet. He doesn’t need to have a home-cooked meal on the table at 5 o’clock.”

“I’m not throwing away my passion, I’m adapting it to fit into my new role as a wife.”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” His anger fizzled in the air like a live wire. I reeled back, afraid to get burned. “You survived the death of your mother, traveled the world, and built a reputable career as a documentary filmmaker at the age of twenty-seven! You have lived, seen, and done more than most people do in their entire boring existences. Why are you letting Marco steal that from you?”

My arms locked around my waist. Turning my chin, I stared at the placid water of the pool. Survived or ran from? I often contemplated the difference.

I wasn’t going to lie and say it didn’t make me physically ill to think about putting my career on the hold, but Marco and his son needed me. After we got hitched, we would relocate to a tiny town upstate while Hendrix went through treatment.

Sean’s hand on my knee jerked my eyes onto him. “Sorry. I really suck at this friend thing.”

A weak laugh rose from my throat. “You have the right to your opinions.”

“Doesn’t mean they be should be shared.” He offered me the container of banana cream pie. “New rule: no more talking about Marco, your relationship, or anything heavy. Easy breezy is the new theme for the evening.”

“Deal.” I glanced around the patio. “Did you bring any silverware?”

“Shit. No.” A wicked grin spread across his face. “Guess we are going to have to get creative.” He scooped up a mound of whipped cream with his forefinger and held it out toward me.

I arched a brow. “Gross Sean. I don’t know where your fingers have been.” He plopped the cream onto my crinkled noise. My eyes widened incredulously. “You did not just do that.”

“I’m afraid I did.”

I snatched up a handful of banana pudding and smeared it on his cheek. The yellow substance dripped onto his shirt as Sean looked at me with war in his eyes. I jumped free from the lounge chair in the nick of time and a banana slice hurled past my head.

“You can run but you can’t hide,” Sean cried.

Giggling like a three-year-old, I procured a pool float to act as my shield. My feet shuffled toward the opposite side of the lounge area and I sneaked a peek over the edge. “This is totally unfair. I’m unarmed.”

“Your fault.”

He wound up his arm and flung the pie in my direction, splattering it against the neon plastic. My competitiveness simmered to a boil. I dropped my defensive barrier and sprinted, arms pumping at my sides. Sean ran in same direction as me; our goal: the slice of pie. My years as a forward in soccer paid off.

I reached the table first and hooted in victory. “YES! You’re mine Sean Dallis.”

His dimples flashed, momentarily blinding me with a dose of sexiness. Pieces of crust landed in my hair and cream dripped into my eyes. “Don’t be so quick to claim the win yet,” he gloated.

I wiped the dessert off my forehead, deciding two could play at this game. Gathering intel on my surroundings, a plan formed.

Sean’s guard immediately went up at my vindictive smile. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” I said, my voice coated in honey. My hips swayed provocatively as I took a step forward. “Truce?”

“Let me see your hands.”

I raised my slightly dirty but empty palms in the air. For every step I took, Sean took one backward. “So untrusting,” I taunted.

“I won’t fall for your feminine wiles.”

My barking laugh echoed. “You sound like you belong in a gangster movie.”

“Seriously Melody. I will fire.” He yanked his arm backward, loaded and ready.

Sneaking a glance around Sean, I saw only two more inches loomed until the sweet taste of triumph would be mine. “Don’t be hasty.”

He caught onto my scheme a couple seconds too late. Looking behind him, Sean cursed and accepted his fate. A loud splash sounded as he fell into pool, fully clothed. Like a shampoo commercial, he surfaced and whipped his wet hair back.

He met my grin with his own. “You cunning bitch.”

“You shouldn’t have doubted me.”

Swimming to the edge of the pool, he rested his forearms on the pavement. “There is something you should know.”

“What?”

He crooked his finger as if I would fall for that old trick. “Please,” I said with a scoff. “I’m not daft.”

“You’re also not British.”

“Daft isn’t British.”

Sean’s wet lashes blinked up at me. “I promise you, Melody, with a cherry on top and extra hot fudge sauce, your clothes will stay dry.”

His sincerity beckoned me into his web of lies. Kneeling, his lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “Psych!”

“You lying—”

My words were drowned out by a mouthful of water. Whoever was in charge of the temperate of the pool had failed; it felt like swimming in a bucket of ice. I sputtered and my thin tank top clung to my chest. I crossed my arms for a measure of warmth and kicked my legs to stay afloat.

Sean eyes glinted with a degree past smugness. “You mess with the bull, you get the horns.”

“Your hotness factor just plummeted to a two.”

“What was it before?”

“If I told you, your ego would implode.”

“Wow, pretty high then.”

I splashed a torrent of water at him, which unfortunately didn’t wipe his smile clean. At risk of hypothermia, I swam to the mosaic steps, dreaming of a hot shower and a fluffy white towel.

Sean gripped my ankle. “Where do you think you’re going, sunshine?”

“Out.”

“Aw, is someone grumpy?”

I attempted to shake him off but his iron hold was like shackles. “I’m freezing.”

“You know what I heard works wonders?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Quick as a fighter jet, he grabbed me by the waist and lifted me above him. I smacked the top of his head as my legs flailed. “Put me down!”

A priest’s ears would have bled at the lengthy list of profanity I screamed. With a laugh, Sean yielded, and as soon as he did, it became apparent that flying through the air had been the safer alternative. As he lowered me, the hard ridges of pecs brushed against my taut nipples. His eyes sparked with heat. I sucked in a breath and prayed for mercy. Sean was the devil of temptation wrapped in a six-foot-one package. I didn’t know if I had the strength to resist him again. Sean’s lingering gaze on my mouth was the gas to the flame.

Forgive me Father for I have sinned.

Our lips collided.

SHE TASTED LIKE CHERRY PIE
and summer sunsets. Tangling my fingers into her hair, I cupped the back of her head and drew her closer, unable to get enough. Melody’s soft curves molded to fit my body as she let out a breathy moan that shattered any fleeting uncertainty. Our kiss deepened and our hands hungrily groped at each other’s sodden clothes.

Wanting to feast on every last inch of her, my lips moved to the spot below her ear. She shivered with pleasure as I nibbled and sucked on the delicate skin.

I wasn’t a religious man, but I had never felt closer to heaven than I did at that moment.

Consumed by our brazen lust for each other, we didn’t hear the sound of a person approaching until a voice startled us apart. “The pool is closed.”

Melody’s first instinct was to distance herself from me, but I tightened my grip around her waist and held her in place.

A hotel employee looked down at us with indifference as he dropped two towels onto the cement. “You need to leave.”

Through gritted teeth, I replied, “Message heard loud and clear.”

After a beat, he turned around and went back to the hole he had climbed out of. Once we were alone, my gaze landed on Melody. Her eyes were as black as opals and as vacant as the high desert.

My fingers grazed the side of her cheek. “Sweetheart?”

Consternation flooded her expression. She broke free and waded to the pool steps. Wrapping the plush towel around her shoulders, I figured she would bolt. To my relief though, Melody stayed put.

Water pooled at my feet as I grabbed the other towel. “Are you okay?”

“What do you think? I just cheated on my fiancé.”

The reminder of her attached status felt like a machete to my internal organs. “Right.”

“Why did you force me to stay?!” she yelled. “I should have returned to my room where it’s safe!”

“I didn’t force you. You stayed because you wanted to, just like you kissed me because you wanted to.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” she said in a broken whisper. “I’m not the kind of girl who lies and cheats—or I wasn’t until you came along.”

“One tiny mistake doesn’t stain your soul black.” A lump formed in my throat at the indication that what we had done was a mistake. Nothing had felt as right as her lips on mine, her fingers digging into my scalp, hungry for more.

“A tiny mistake is forgetting to put the cap back on the milk jug. What I did was betrayal.”

Tears streaked her cheeks as she swiped under her lashes and her lips pressed into a scowl. “I’m also not the kind of girl who is reduced to tears so easily. Jesus, I’m a mess.”

“A hot mess.”

“You’re a dirty liar.”

Tipping her chin up, I let her witness the honesty in my gaze. “Do I look like I’m lying?”

“I can’t tell. Your serious face is similar to a serial killer’s.”

The tense mood broke as we both laughed, but the hole in my chest remained. “Do you want me to walk you back to your room?”

“Are you also going to check under my bed for any monsters?”

“Smart ass.”

We exited the roof and rode the elevator back to her room. She fiddled with the key card, as unsure as I was about how to end the evening.

“Are you—”

“Do you want—”

Melody addressed the awkwardness. “Is this how it’s gonna be the rest of the time?”

“The full five days you have left?”

“I’m coming back.” She saw the skepticism in my expression. “I am. Leaving a project unfinished isn’t an option for me.”

Having Melody return as a married woman would be like getting thrown into the depths of hell. At that point, she would truly be off limits and all hope would be lost for us. I would have almost preferred she stayed in New York and forgot about the documentary.

Melody emitted a low growl at my lengthy silence. Turning on her heels, she swiped the card through the reader and yanked the door open. “Goodnight Sean.”

“Goodnight Melody.”

“IT HAS TO WORK.” I
tapped my pen on the grid-lined notebook paper that was scrawled with figures and numbers. “Can we raise the prices on the tickets?”

Mid bite of his behemoth sandwich, Ash chewed and swallowed. “To what? A thousand a piece? No one will pay such a high price without a flash of the crown jewels.”

“Half of America has already seen me naked.”

Matthew looked up from his magazine. “Strip tease?”

“I’m not starring in my own version of Magic Mike,” I said.

“Also your dance moves are sorely lacking.” Ash shoved a chip into his mouth. “At my brother’s wedding, my great aunt almost dialed 911 because she thought you were having a seizure.”

“Your great aunt is senile. I have moves like Jagger,” I boasted.

“If by Jagger you mean Elaine from Seinfeld, then yes you’re a bona fide dance master.”

Matthew laughed. “You guys sound like a bickering old couple.” Tossing his reading material aside, he rose from the couch. “I have to pick up Camilla from the airport. Good luck.”

Matthew whistled a jolly tune as he shoved his arms into a tailored sports coat and put on wing-tipped shoes buffered to a high sheen. I thought Camilla should stay throughout the tour; the bedroom was big enough for both of them and the level of him acting like a dick lowered to a tolerable degree when she was nearby.

Sean underhanded him the box of condoms sitting on the table. Why there were condoms in plain sight—I didn’t want to know.

“You’re gonna need these,” he said.

Matthew tossed them back with a grin. “No I’m not. This guy right here goes bareback.”

I cringed while Ash stood up and high-fived Matthew. “All right! You go man.”

If Camilla heard us talking about their sex life, she would slap us silly and declare us a bunch of pigs.

“Lucky bastard,” Ash muttered as he sat back down. “The one benefit of having a stable relationship is you don’t have to worry about waking up with an unwelcome present if you forget to wear a condom.”

“There are other benefits, like companionship,” Matthew pointed out.

“You can get a dog if you want company.”

Bruno came to mind. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been sleeping in his ultra plush dog bed with his legs in the air. Who knew animals could break your heart as easily as humans could?

Ash slid a peanut butter cup to my side of the table. “Sorry, man. Forgot about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

“Thanks, but he’s in a good place. It would have been nice to say goodbye though.”

Matthew patted me on the back and then glanced at his watch. “Shit. Camilla is going to kill me if I’m late. She hates waiting.”

We watched him sprint off the tour bus as if his ass was on fire. I unwrapped the candy and popped it into my mouth. Woman were right: chocolate eases the string of whatever ails you.

“What if this doesn’t happen?” Sean asked, referring to the benefit concert.

“It has to.”

“Why? Because you think Melody will run off into the sunset with you once she is free of the shackles Marco has locked around her wrists?”

I shot a glance at the door, afraid she might overhear our conversation.

“She’s not here and won’t be for the next couple hours. Atlanta is a big city with a lot of ground to cover,” Sean said.

After our band meeting that morning, Melody had gulped a cup of coffee and raced into the heart of the action with her camera.

“I don’t have unrealistic expectations, but I want to give Melody the option to choose.”

“She has chosen. His name is Marco.”

“Because she was forced to.”

Ash gave me look as if I was nuts. “Did he jam the ring on her finger while holding a gun to her head?”

“Worse. He used his own sick child to guilt trip her into a lifelong commitment.”

“Or maybe Melody loves Marco and his son and isn’t doing this because she feels obligated to but because she wants to build a future with them.”

My hands tightened into fists. “You are extremely close to losing a tooth.”

“You need to remove your head from your ass and face reality. Melody might never be yours.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I’m not a fucking moron, but I’m also not going to sit idly by and watch as Melody chooses the wrong man.”

Noah wandered into the living room, rubbing his wet hair with a towel, buck-naked. We were beginning to realize our new band member had a strong dislike for clothes. “What’s up?”

“Dude, put some shorts on. Nobody wants to see your sausage hanging loose,” Ash said.

He glanced down and shrugged. A couple seconds later, he reemerged with boxer briefs on. “Better?”

“What if Melody was here?” I asked. “It’s disrespectful.”

“Whatever. I’m sure she has seen her fair shares of penises.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“It means the girl isn’t a virgin.”

Ash laughed. “Watch yourself man. Sean is like a pit bull guarding a hunk of meat when it comes to Melody.”

Noah flopped onto the couch and regarded me with a curious expression. “Did everything work out between you?”

“Not really. We weren’t meant to be friends.”

Understatement of the year. Us as friends had lasted less than thirty-six hours before we’d waved the white flag and admitted defeat to our attraction to each other. I could still hear her breathy moans as my tongue slipped into her mouth.

He raised a brow. “So what? You’re planning on winning her over with a sack of cash? What if we don’t raise enough?

The grid paper covered in numbers that didn’t add up to the total sum we needed showed Noah’s grim prediction might become reality. Without a plan B, I was totally and royally fucked.