Almost Ordinary (The Song Wreckers Book 2)

ALMOST ORDINARY

The Song Wreckers Book 2

CRYSTAL FIRSDON

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

ALMOST ORDINARY

Copyright©2016

CRYSTAL FIRSDON

Cover Design by Leah Kaye-Suttle

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN: 978-1-68291-055-9

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Chapter 1

I’d say it was in the stars that I should’ve driven the eight hours to Nashville instead of fly at this ungodly hour, but it was actually in the clouds. Through the glass wall that lined the back of our boarding gate, one long cloud merged with another lumpy, oval cloud and together they flipped me the bird.

“Nice,” I murmured.

My part-time nanny peeled her one earbud out. “Did you say something, Molly?”

The song “Caught Misbehavin’” by Gina Swinger sang to me from that earbud, and I couldn’t help but grin. “My song.”

Franny nodded and set both ear pieces on the stroller between us that held my twin sons. Their infant legs kicked while Franny and I sang along.

The four of us knew “Caught Misbehavin’” backward and forward because I wrote it, along with eight other songs on that album.

Gina Swinger’s debut album released a week ago, and this ditty of mine debuted as the first single. The radios in my house were set to the most popular country music stations so I could monitor how much air time it received, as well as listener feedback. So far “Caught Misbehavin’” garnered a lot of positive comments. Gina Swinger’s voice brought magic to my songs, and her first album was my first venture in professional song writing. This brief trip to Nashville held two agendas for me. One, I’d be attending the album release party, and two, I was meeting with Crystal Records, Gina’s record company, later today to negotiate my role in Gina’s follow-up album which could cement my career as a song writer.

Me, Molly Ramsey. Former teacher turned professional song writer. Who would’ve ever thought?

Franny and I ignored the looks from people around us as we sang along until the very last lyric.

We slumped in our seats, both tired from waking so early for a seven forty-five flight.

Within fifteen minutes the boys fell asleep, and Franny nodded off a few times next to me.

I nudged her arm. “Come on, let’s get coffee.”

Franny shook her head and blinked a few times. “Yeah, nannies aren’t supposed to fall asleep on the job.”

“You can sleep at the hotel. I’ll have a while before my meeting.”

Both boys were dead to the world, and Franny and I were about to be if we didn’t move. When my alarm went off at three forty-five this morning, I was not happy. Especially since I knew I set it for quarter after four. Caleb, my husband, had reset my alarm so he could properly say goodbye. He was very easily forgiven as The Big-O energized me for a while, but that high had worn off and now I needed caffeine.

We trudged to the Coffee Beanery I’d spotted earlier. I handed Franny a ten-dollar bill for coffees while I stayed in the concourse with the stroller and dug out the bottle of Tums. Damn it, I knew I’d regret eating greasy food for breakfast. I shook out a handful and chewed them. My heartburn lessened within minutes, and with the twins sleeping I leaned against the wall to wait for Franny. My eyelids drooped of their own accord, so I shook my head a bit and rolled my shoulders a few times to snap out of the fog.

I needed to focus on something besides a nice, warm bed so I people-watched. Some of the older folks saw my babies and smiled at me. Most people rushed by determined to get to their destinations. As I people-watched I began a mental checklist of things I promised to never, ever wear: sweat pants with a word across the ass, and light-colored tissue shirts with a dark bra underneath topped my list. One woman wearing head-to-toe leopard print caught my, and everyone else’s, eye. Skin-tight, long-sleeved, deep V-neck shirt with matching leggings. Her ensemble, paired with platform leopard heels that had to be a good four inches, demanded our attention as she paraded through the crowd.
Click, click, click
. Even those shoes drew us all in. Everyone near me followed her with their whole heads, from left to right. Although she left my line of vision when she entered a book store I still stared, stuck in a daydream. Maybe Caleb would like me in sexy leopard print number. I could be a wild animal and he could be my tamer. I laughed to myself, almost dismissing the idea, but made a mental note to find out Caleb’s favorite zoo animal. Just in case. I mean, I could pull off wearing leopard print if he liked it.

I blinked several times, embarrassed that my fantasy caused me to smile at the chest of a man who stood right outside the bookstore that Leopard Lady had clicked into. He leaned with his shoulder against the wall and arms crossed at his chest. Feeling like an idiot, I searched for Franny in line at the coffee shop—not in front like I had hoped—instead of looking that man in the face.

Geez, I felt his stare. Another minute passed and, although my gaze focused on the grey speckled pattern on the floor, that creepy, being gawked at feeling stuck with me. At first I didn’t want to find out if he really was staring. Who knew, maybe my nerves and exhaustion had caught up with me, or maybe he wondered how someone so hot could have twins. Yeah, right. I had no makeup on, my hair was smoothed in its usual ponytail, and my jeans and a black, long-sleeved T-shirt made me look like Plain Jane. Definitely not the stuff wet dreams were made of.

Patience not being one of my strong suits, I tapped my foot, faked nonchalance, and glanced around. First I pretended to search for Franny in the coffee shop. I studied the ceiling as if I were bored, then swung my head right, toward the bookstore. And into the man’s eyes.

My hands shook as dread trickled down my spine.

Adam—someone I knew.

The Creep—someone I feared.

One and the same.

Son. Of. A. Bitch!

My left hand lifted up and around my right shoulder to feel a one-inch scar of raised skin that sicko gave me. Everything around me snapped into focus.

I blinked and studied him from bottom to top, surprised his appearance was damn near identical as the night of the attack twenty-six months ago, minus the wig and face obscured with dirt. He wore dark layers, a ball cap, and maybe the same tennis shoes.

My brain refused to formulate a plan for about three seconds while we stared at each other. I lowered my hand and his gaze turned into a disgusting smirk. Shit. The four of us had to evade him. I whipped the stroller around and swung it into the coffee shop, not caring that I almost hit someone. I glanced at the boys to see if the jarring motion woke them. It didn’t. “Franny,” I barked.

“Hold on, our coffee is just about ready,” she replied.

In a harsh whisper I demanded, “No, forget the coffee. Here, now.”

She turned, shock and confusion clear on her face. We made eye contact and I tipped my head toward the concourse, then hauled ass out of the shop away from Adam.

Franny’s quick footsteps tapped behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure she was close, then to Adam. He hauled himself off the wall and stepped our way. Shit.

In full panic mode, I increased my pace, ignoring Franny when she peppered me with questions. Detroit’s airport operated as a major hub for the airlines, so it was always busy. Even this early in the morning we weaved in and around people. I angled the stroller toward the women’s bathroom on the left, but with its weight I wasn’t able to turn as far as I meant and whacked the wall on my way in.

Alex started whimpering in his sleep. I crouched down and repeated, “Shh, shh, shh,” while rubbing his foot until he resettled into dreamland.

Franny fidgeted beside me. I knew I had to protect her as well as the boys and myself. It didn’t matter that she’d only been our nanny for a month, she was like the little sister I never had.

I dug my cell phone out of my purse. “I’m so sorry. Let me figure something out then I’ll fill you in.”

She nodded.

My hands trembled so it took three tries to unlock my phone. “Damn it,” I muttered, then pulled up my recent call list and tapped on Caleb’s name.

How on earth did I not piece this together? How? God, it all flashed back to me; finding The Creep’s threatening “gifts”, having another woman start a fight with me so I’d be unable to fight him off, getting stabbed, certain I was going to die. How it all led to spinning my world around one hundred eighty degrees. How I was almost . . .

Wrecked.

Caleb answered on the fourth ring. “Hey, what’s—”

“It’s Adam,” I blurted out. “Adam from the band Crawling Home After Midnight. The Creep. He’s here at the airport. What do I do?”