Take Me Home Tonight (9 page)

“I don't know. I don't look at it like that. I just want her to get right in her head and . . . stay with us, you know?” He sought out Hopper's leather bracelet, fingering the bumpy braid. “Until then, I mean, nothing else really matters. It's
Mom
.”

“Fuck. I get that, I do. I just . . . Jesus.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Think about it. All this time, you're playing. You're keeping up your connections, doing your thing. So when things are better, when Mom's strong enough, you're all set. You start up a band again, and you're back. But me? It's all passing me by.”

He couldn't argue with that logic. It was all true. He didn't think any of them had imagined the situation would go on for three years.

“By the time we all decide Mom's strong enough, I'm gonna be too old to do what I really want to do, and I'm gonna be stuck doing this business bullshit when I'm fifty.”

Everything his brother said made sense, but that didn't stop the current of anxiety from running through him. Because, well . . .
Mom
.

“And I'm not talking about moving to the city. I'm talking
about working part-time in a studio half an hour from home. Just like you.”

“Gus, I get it. You don't have to explain anything to me.”

“Really? Because you're the one who makes a family dinner every night. You're the one who comes home to check on Mom. And you're the one who found . . .” With a pained expression, Gus looked away.

But he didn't need to finish the sentence. Calix lived with the image every minute of his life.

Gus turned back to him. “The thing is, man, she hardly ever eats with us.”

“Yeah, so? That doesn't mean I'm gonna stop trying.”

“No, I know. I don't want you to.” Gus let out a rough exhalation. “Look, I don't want you to think I'm giving up on her, but I gotta do something for myself or I'm gonna go out of my mind.”

Obviously, he understood. He only knew his mom couldn't handle another son getting hurt by an industry she perceived as debauched and soulless. And even with guys as cool as Blue Fire, the partying got pretty intense. All the hangers-on, the record label parties and club events . . . a hell of a lot of temptation.

“Besides, Mom told me to do it.”

“Well, what do you think she'd say? Obviously she doesn't want to hold any of us back.” And that was the thing. She'd love it if they all left. She
wanted
to be alone.

And that was the fear that compelled him—every minute of every day—to drive out the terrible desire lying in wait in his mom's heart.

He could see Gus working through it, his frustration turning to resolve. “I'll live at home and run the LLC. I'll eat dinner with you guys when I can, but I'm going to do this job. Because when she's okay, when our lives go back to normal, I need to be ready to DJ or run a studio or whatever the hell works out for me. Okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” And he supposed if his brother had to be in the music industry, working at a private studio at the tip of Long Island was the safest place to be. “Just . . . you gotta be cool. You can't get into any bad shit, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I already heard it from Dad.” He let out a breath, smiling. “Don't worry. I got this.”

*   *   *

With
the sun in his eyes, Calix strode across the damp grass to Slater and Emmie's house. Knowing what she knew about his family, why would Mimi offer his brother a job without running it by him first?

Leaping up the stairs, he pushed into the kitchen. It smelled of spices—Mexican—but the counters were wiped clean and dishes piled in the drying rack.

In the downtime between breakfast and lunch, Mimi had likely gone back to Violet's farm. Probably for the best. He shouldn't talk to her when he was pissed, but then again, maybe he should. She shouldn't have inserted herself in his family's business.

“Fuckity fuck.”
Mimi.
Where was she? “Noooo.”

The door to the laundry room was ajar. Water flowed from a tap.

He crossed the kitchen, pushed open the door, ready to confront her, when he found her topless, leaning over a sink and holding a white shirt under the faucet. In her black yoga pants, black patent leather ballet flats, her pale skin practically glowed in the late morning light.

He tried hard not to look, but the skimpy pink lace bra was . . . well,
fuck
. Her breasts wobbled with her exertion, and it ignited a flash of lust in his dick. “Shit. Sorry.”

“
Calix
.” Her hands jerked the sopping wet shirt to her chest. Water flowed down her stomach and sank into the pants. As if it were on fire, she flung the shirt into the sink, and then stepped back, arms open wide, looking down at the water dripping off her body. “What're you
doing
here?”

Calix swiped a towel out of the laundry basket and tossed it to her.

She mopped her chest—clearly having no idea she was making her luscious breasts jiggle. “Thank you. Crap, what a mess. I got mole sauce all over my shirt, and there's no way it's going to come out.”

Making a quick assumption, he opened the cabinet over
the washing machine, scanned the various cleaning supplies, and pulled down a spray bottle of stain removal.

“Oh, good. Thanks.”

He also pulled a T-shirt out of the basket and tossed it to her. She caught it, set the bottle down, and pulled the shirt over her head. It hung down to her knees.

And now he had the answer to what lingerie she wore under her business suits.

Hot, feminine, sexy as fuck bras. Did the panties match? All the restraint in the world couldn't have stopped him from checking, and Jesus, he didn't see any panty lines under those stretchy pants. Which meant if he pushed his hand under the elastic waistband, he could cup her bare, round ass.

Desire slammed him hard.

“Sorry, were you looking for me?” She gazed up at him as if she hadn't dropped a bomb into his already vulnerable family.

He'd worked hard to make his mom feel safe again. He didn't like Mimi coming along and threatening it. “Yeah, Mimi. Not sure what you were thinking, getting Gus a job in the studio. I told you how Hopper died.”

“I wondered about that. I'm sorry.” She stepped toward him, looking remorseful. “I wasn't sure if I should say anything, but then I figured since you worked here, it'd be all right.”

“I sure as hell hope it will be.”

She seemed genuinely worried. “It just seemed so obvious, you know? The studio's right here. But after I suggested it, I saw how upset your mom got, and I wished I hadn't said anything. I'm really sorry.”

He blew out a breath. Hard to stay angry when he saw her point. And maybe it would work out all right. He just . . . the idea of trying something new unnerved him. The risk was too great.

She touched his arm. “You're right. I should've kept my mouth shut.” She looked wistful. “You should've seen his face, though. When I suggested it? I mean, he got so excited.”

“I'm sure. Trust me, I know how messed up the situation is. Of course Lee should be in fashion. Hopper died the
summer before she was going to start at FIT. And Gus? Come on, you don't think I know how talented he is?”

“He needs this.” She said it quietly, sweetly, making it impossible to be pissed off.

Unfortunately, their needs didn't come first right then. “There's more at risk than you understand.”

“Okay. I'm sorry. I am.”

He knew she meant it. He also knew she hadn't done anything wrong. Gus—with all his energy and happiness—who wouldn't want to help him out? Calix had no doubt Mimi had acted out of the kindness of her heart.

And fuck, she had a big heart. And a sexy mouth. And underneath her conservative, expensive designer clothes, the lingerie of a sex kitten.

He had to get out of there. “Just . . . stay out of our business.”

*   *   *

Rain
hammered the roof of the truck as Calix idled in front of Slater and Emmie's house.

Gus reached for the handle. “Sorry about this, man.”

“No problem.” He didn't need to come into the studio today, but his brother's truck was in the shop, so Calix had given him a ride. “Text me when you're done.”

“Nah, I'll get a ride. Thanks, though.” His brother darted out of the cab, slammed the door, and raced toward the studio.

He waited—and not for his brother to get inside. He was thinking about Mimi. Her first show taped today. Hopefully, she'd listened to the weather report and gone into the city last night.

She had to know about the flooding. It was all over the news. Well,
local
news.

Shifting into Drive, he stepped on the accelerator. The wiper blades whipped back and forth across the windshield, giving him brief glimpses of road. Jesus, it was pouring. When a car backed recklessly out of a driveway, Calix slammed on the brakes.

It was just going to nag at him, so he'd text her. Make sure she knew.
You in the city?

But as he continued down the road, unable to think about
anything else, he decided to go in and make sure she'd already left.

Turning around, he drove as far up the driveway as he could. He left the engine running as he jumped out and ran up the stairs to the kitchen.

Throwing open the door, he found Mimi alone at the kitchen table, stuffing things into a big black bag. Wearing tight skinny jeans, ridiculously high-heeled sparkling sandals, and a magenta rocker T-shirt, she looked fierce. “You're still here.”

In a quick sweep, she took in his rain-soaked body, her gaze lingering at his shoulders. But before he could get the idea she was just noticing the water dripping off the ends of his hair, her lips parted, her eyelids lowered, and a look of pure, erotic heat filled her eyes.

And now he knew what she'd look like on her back, gazing up at him while he fucked her.

Holy hell but she turned him on.

The low thrum of energy in the base of his spine snapped him out of it. Not getting hard for Mimi in Slater and Emmie's kitchen.

Her attention went back to her bag. “Um, yeah, just waiting for Violet to take me to the train.”

“You're taping in those shoes?”

Pulling a pair of Chucks out of the bag, she waved them at him. But then her gaze landed on the microwave clock, and her brow furrowed. “I don't want to miss my train.”

“LIRR's got delays. I guess you haven't been listening to the news?”

“What? What news?” She looked stricken. “What does that mean?”

“Flooding's shut it down.”

“Oh, my God. Are you sure?”

“Heard it on the way over.”

“Fuck me with frosting.” She pulled her laptop out of the bag, opened it, and hit the power button. “Come on, come on, come on.”

“What're you doing?” Calix stood beside her, aware of her perfume, the shine of her hair in tight, very cute braids.

“If I can see where the flooding is, I can figure out which train station to go to.”

He watched her bring up the Long Island Railroad's webpage.

“You ready to go, Meems?” Violet came into the kitchen, looking all fresh and sweet.

“Train's down. Flooding.”

Her friend glanced at the clock. “Oh, no.”

“It's okay. I'll call for a car.”

“What time do you have to be there?” Calix asked.

“I've got five hours. I planned to go early, so I should be fine.” But he could see by the way she clutched the edge of the table that she wasn't fine at all.

“How long will it take a car to get out here?” Violet said. “Maybe—”

“I'll take her.” Calix snapped her laptop shut. “You ready?”

“You don't . . . you can't take me.”

He hated the anxiety in her eyes. Even though she had to get into the city, she didn't want to go with him. Because he'd been a dick to her yesterday in the laundry room, telling her to mind her own business. She'd done a nice thing for his brother, and he'd shut her down.

And because he'd always kept his distance, always made her think he didn't give a shit about her. So what if he was attracted to her? It was his problem, not hers. “Look, sweet pants, you want to argue or you want to get to your competition on time?”

She looked up at him, cautious. “You can't take that much time out of your day for me.”

Fuck him, those green-gold eyes, that lush pink mouth. How did he crush this attraction?

“Mimi?” Violet's tone let her know she was crazy to argue.

And finally, her features relaxed. “Yeah, okay, thank you.”

Sucked for him because truthfully? He wanted to take her.

There wasn't anywhere else he'd rather be than with her.

Sheets of water arced out as his truck practically glided down Route 25.

Mimi pulled her phone out of her bag. Started fiddling with it. “Okay, looks like you can drop me at Hicksville. I can catch the train from there.”

He nodded. Wouldn't argue with her.

He was taking her into the city.

She tucked the phone away. “Dak doesn't need you today?” Worrying the piece of paper in her lap, she folded it into neat squares, her fingers smoothing the edge with each fold.

“Dak's having another tantrum. Wants to put things on hold until the listening party.”

“You worried about losing him?”

“Not at all. Best thing that could happen.”

She rolled the paper into a tube.

He reached out, put his hand over hers. “You're gonna be fine today.”

“We don't really know that. I mean, we have absolutely no idea what to expect. But I'm good.”

He tugged on the tube.

Stuffing it into her bag, she laughed. “Yeah, okay, I'm a little nervous. So, I probably shouldn't say this, but have you ever considered replacing Dak with your dad?”

A spark flared in his gut, and he tamped it down. “As producer? For Blue Fire?”

“Bad idea?”

“Yeah, sweet pants.” His fingers flexed on the wheel. “Bad idea.”

“I know. None of my business.”

It
was
a bad idea. A terrible idea. But his body vibrated with how great an idea it was. His dad . . . Jesus, his dad would come alive. And he'd be the best damn producer for Blue Fire. No question about it.

“Just seems kind of an obvious fit. Would your dad like that?”

“More than you know.”

“So, maybe—”

“No. Not now.”

“Okay, sorry.” She flipped down the visor, opened the lighted mirror. “It's enough for him, gardening and stuff?” She rolled her lips together, smearing the dark red lipstick.

“No, Mimi. It's not enough for him.”

His sharp tone had her snapping around to face him. “I'm not trying to piss you off.”

“I'm not pissed. I'm frustrated. Obviously, hiring my dad would be the best thing for him. And for the band.”

“But you're worried what it'll do to your mom.”

A curt nod was his only answer.

“She'd flip, huh?”

“No. She wouldn't flip at all. She'd shut down, making it impossible to read her.” And then how could he look for the signs?

“But maybe she wouldn't. Maybe, since it's pretty safe out in Eden's Landing, it'd make it easier to readjust. I mean, you, Gus, Terrence, this is your life. Music is your passion.”

“It isn't the music that worries her. It's everything that goes with it. The decadence. She's seen it all, and she doesn't want it for her kids.” It cost her a son.

“Well, obviously you'd know that better than I. Just seems
a shame, you know? I mean, no matter how hard she tried to shield you, you and your brother are both totally into music. It's in your DNA.”

“See, now, if we all follow our bliss . . . if my dad becomes a producer, Gus gets a job as a sound engineer, and I form a band again—oh, and Lee? If Lee's at FIT, what happens to my mom? When she's all alone in that big house filled with ghosts, what's gonna happen to her?”

“I don't know, Calix.” Her challenging tone surprised him. Thanks to his size, most people backed down from him. “All I know is I'm on the outside looking in, and I can see a lot of frustration in your family. Lee's quiet, and she puts up a good front, but I don't think she's all that different from Gus. Or you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You're all really passionate, creative people. And you're suppressing it. Of course, I'm not suggesting everyone abandons your mom. But . . . I don't know, do you ever think maybe she feels pressure when you guys watch her so carefully?”

“I think it reminds her that we're there, and that we need her.”

“But what if she's so busy trying to be what you want her to be that she can't grieve in her own way? Do you know what I mean? It's not my family. I'm not saying I know her better than you, but I can't help wondering if you guys got back to your own lives, maybe she'd be able to adapt to the loss. Maybe she'd find her way back to her
own
passions.”

“Her passion is her children.”

“Was. You're adults now, so I would guess it makes her uncomfortable knowing her adult children are living at home putting off their lives because of her.”

“We're not gonna take any chances leaving her alone. Just not gonna do that.”

“You know best. But you might want to look a little closer at her reactions.”

He wanted to reject everything she was saying. Wanted to say she didn't know the whole truth. The real reason his family kept such vigilant watch over her.

But he couldn't when everything she said made sense. And if it did, what the hell was he supposed to do about it?

Because they'd done it before—gone back to their lives and left her alone.

And look how that had turned out.

*   *   *

Calix
double-parked in front of the studio.

He waited as Mimi glanced up at Rockefeller Center, the imposing skyscraper in Midtown Manhattan. Pedestrians raced in both directions, cars honked, and the whine of an emergency vehicle faded into the distance.

She bit down on her bottom lip, before turning to face him. She gave a mock terrified expression. “This is it.”

“This is it.”

She drew in a deep breath, held it, and then slowly let it out. “I'm really gonna do this.”

“And you're gonna kick ass.”

“Yeah?” Smiling, she tugged the bag from the floor and dropped it on her lap. “Thank you so much for driving me. I hate that I took so much time out of your day.” She started to open the door.

With each movement away from him, his chest tightened. Given the amount of rush-hour traffic, leaving for home at this point would be a waste of time. He should sit it out.

Which meant he could walk her in. Give her some support.

Not that she needed him. She could handle anything.

The door opened, and she slid off the seat.

And it felt like the rope unraveling had run out of length. “You want me to come in with you?”

The hope that lit her beautiful features confirmed he'd made the right call.

Until that hope faded. “No, you've spent enough time on me. Thanks, though. That was nice of you to ask. You should get back to your family.”

“I'm gonna be sitting in traffic anyway. Might as well wait it out.” No point in arguing when he'd already decided to stay.

She studied him, like she didn't trust that he actually wanted to be with her. “I've taken enough of your time.”

“Mimi, what do you want?”

And just like that she cracked, her vulnerability shining through. “I want you to come with me.”

*   *   *

The
studio was much smaller than Calix had imagined. Not that he'd ever watched the
Verna Bloom Show
. Stadium-style seating held maybe a hundred audience members. Overhead lights crowded the ceiling and boom mics bracketed the rectangular stage.

“You a husband or something?” A woman stood beside him holding a clipboard and wearing a Bluetooth headpiece.

“Just a friend. Am I in the way?”

She went from businesslike to friendly in two seconds flat. “Not at all.” She thrust out a hand. “I'm Beth, one of the production assistants. We've got about an hour until we tape, do you want to come to the green room? We've got food, coffee. All kinds of goodies.”

Backstage, huh? He'd like to see Mimi, make sure she was holding up. “Sounds good.”

The woman talked at him the whole way. Within fifteen minutes, he'd found out she'd gone to Purdue, majored in communications, had always dreamed of being a television producer, and loved living in the city. He scanned each room he passed as he headed down a long hallway, watching for that deep red hair.

“Green room's right down here.”

“Where's makeup?”

She came to a stop in the hallway. “You want to see makeup?”

“Yup.”

“All righty then. Come on.” She stopped again when they came to a brightly lit room. Two people sat in chairs facing the mirrors while stylists with brushes, lipsticks, hair dryers, and eyeliner pencils attended them. No Mimi.

And then that familiar burst of laughter rang out, and
Calix swung around to find her in the room directly across the hall.

Features animated, hands moving, Mimi talked a mile a minute, entertaining the stylists and the guy in the chair next to her.

This was nervous Mimi. He willed her to look at him.

“She your girl?” the woman asked.

“No.” It came out too abruptly. “A friend.”

“If that's how you look at your friends, where can I sign up?”

Calix kept his focus on Mimi. He wanted to talk to her, reassure her. When she made a big gesture, as if describing a bomb exploding, her gaze snagged on his and she stilled.

He wanted her to feel calm. Wanted her to know she had this. And when she sank back into the chair, when her features relaxed, he knew he'd given that to her.

And then that lush mouth formed a single word,
Hey
, and it ignited a slow burn of intense, powerful awareness.

He wanted to be alone with her, wanted his hands on her. He wanted his mouth on that creamy skin. His heart thundered when he imagined all that hair sliding through his fingers as he kissed her.

“Excuse me.” Some guy pushed him aside and entered the room.

“I think your
friend's
going to need a smoke after that,” Beth said. “Come on. Let me get you to your seat.”

He gave Mimi a chin nod and then followed Beth down the hall.

*   *   *

Calix
checked his phone again, waiting for a response from his mom. Still nothing. Probably in the studio. But he wanted to know for sure, so he texted Lee.
You got dinner for Mom?

You bet. Me n Dad r making it together. You coming home soon?

Need me?
She didn't reply right away, which set off a low buzz of worry.

Finally, his phone vibrated.

Dad seems happy.

She still hadn't answered the question.
Yeah? Why?

Dunno. Think he spent some time with Blue Fire today. Think it makes him happy to be around music again.

Of course it did. For three years, his dad had poured his creative energy into his gardens, but it couldn't possibly satisfy. Not the way music did.

Damn Mimi for bringing up the obvious. His dad would be a great producer for Blue Fire. He had no response for his sister so just wrote,
Yep.

When will you be home?

I can leave right now if you need me.
The audience broke into applause, and the contestants filed out onto the stage.

When she didn't respond right away, Calix grew uncomfortable. He could've been nearly home by now, and instead he'd chosen to hang out with Mimi. Suddenly, his choice seemed pretty stupid, considering he'd had only that one moment with her backstage.

He texted again.
Can be home in two hours.

His phone vibrated.
You'd be hitting worst traffic. Just stay.

You're cool?

Totally.

Mom?

In her studio. I'll bring her dinner. No worries.

Yeah, but that was the thing. There were always worries.

Mimi didn't know about them, but they were always there.

*   *   *

Standing
alongside the other five contestants, Mimi had to wonder what attributes the producers had been looking for since the six of them had absolutely nothing in common.

After meeting and chatting briefly backstage, she'd learned that Pedro ran a popular food truck in the city, making grilled cheese sandwiches. Quiet and intense, he'd hardly interacted with the others, giving only brief responses to their questions. Frazzled Alena worked in her family's Russian bakery in Chicago, and Deborah, who looked scrubbed clean, ran the kitchen at a new age spa in Arizona. Joey, who smelled faintly of weed, owned a beach shack restaurant in Florida, and funky Eleanor ran a tea and coffee café in Missoula, Montana.

Since she was being billed as the chef for a rock band, she'd dressed the part in her rocker heels and T-shirt. If only they knew.

The video introducing each contestant ended, and the audience clapped.

“Great group, right?” Verna Bloom, the petite, dark-haired host of the show, took center stage. “So, let's introduce our judges.” She pressed her hands together, talking to the camera. “Our first judge, from the popular New York restaurant of the same name . . .” A drum roll gave way to a crash of cymbals, as the curtain whooshed open and out walked a portly gentleman in a suit.

“Chef Alonso.”

The audience clapped wildly—because everyone in New York knew Chef Alonso's popular restaurant on the Lower East Side, featuring classic Italian dishes. Okay, so this judge expected culinary talent. Which, for her, would be a problem.

Verna hugged him. “Chef Alonso is one of the most beloved and innovative chefs not only in the city but in the world. We're thrilled he's able to join us on our show.”

The chef smiled, bestowing his warm smile on the audience. “Eating?” He shrugged. “Discovering new talent?” He shrugged again. “How could I refuse?”

The audience laughed.

“Okay, our next panelist is an award-winning teacher at the Institute for Culinary Arts right here in the city.”

Oh, hell. Technique would matter to this one. “The lovely, the talented . . . Chef Zoe Burke.”