Cardinal (16 page)

I close the email and go to the next. A list of
cities and dates pop up. My eyes widen as I read them:  Los Angeles. Anaheim. Houston.
Vegas. New Orleans. Nashville. Atlanta. Tampa. Raleigh. New York. Boston. D.C. Detroit.
The list seems endless.

My pulse starts to race. “I’ve barely traveled
out of my home state. This is … it’s …”

“An amazing chance for you.”

I was going to say overwhelming, but the look
in his eyes makes me bite my tongue. He’s looking at me but through me, like
he’s focused on a memory.

“The first time you step on stage, any time you
step on stage, it’s electric,” he says. “You’ll feel it in your bones, in your
veins. Performing is one of the best things that ever happened to me. There’s no
better rush, no bigger high.” His gaze finds my face. “I don’t know how else to
describe it, but it will be like that for you, too. The music will take over,
creating you instead of you creating it. The feeling won’t come close to your
imagination, but it will try.”

I’m moved by his passionate words. I know it’s
killing him not to play. It’s almost as if he wants me to do it for him, so he
can experience it again.

“You’ll know what I’m talking about, after your
first show in L.A.”

I toss my phone onto the seat beside us and set
my hands against his chest. “You really want me to go, don’t you?”

“The truth?”

“Always.”

“I want you to go for you, and I want you to
stay for me.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I have to listen to my
head and support you, because if I listen to my heart …”  He hesitates. “I’ll never
let you go.”

My breath hitches. If anyone had those feelings
for me before, they never said them. Latson doesn’t want to let me go while
every other man has watched me walk away. I can feel my heart rearranging
itself, to make a permanent place for him. “I’m kinda falling for you, too,” I
confess.

His eyes grow intense as he slides his hand
around the back of my neck and pulls me close. “I’m going to have a sign made
that says you belong to me. You’ll need to carry it with you everywhere you go.”

I smile. “That might be difficult. How about
you loan me one of your shirts?  As long as it smells like you, I’ll wear it
all the time.”

He makes a sound low in his throat and brushes his
lips against mine. “I like the idea of you wearing me.”

I close my eyes as his mouth skims over my
chin, traces my jaw, and lands on my neck. “I do, too.”

“Maybe you should get my name tattooed
somewhere,” he says between kisses. “So it’s permanent.”

I laugh. “That takes wearing you to a whole new
level.”

“I’m surprised there’s no ink on this body.”

I lean back a bit. “Is that a problem?  I never
planned on getting a tattoo.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Never?”

“Never.”

He glances at his arm, covered from wrist to
shoulder. “Why?  Do they turn you off?”

I shake my head.

“Do they turn you on?”

I bite my lip and slowly run one finger up his
arm. “You have no idea.”

His eyes flash as his hands slide to my hips. “I’m
going to miss the hell out of you,” he breathes.

Have I decided to go?  In a roundabout way, I
guess I have. I know I have his support no matter what I decide and that means
the world to me. “You said you wouldn’t let me stay.”

“Can you blame me?” His hands leave my hips and
start to untuck my shirt. “I get to date a hot musician who wears my clothes.”

His fingers brush my bare waist, sending a wave
of electricity over my skin. “It seems like you want me to wear no clothes.”

“Only when you’re with me.”

He pulls my shirt over my head, and I wrap my
arms around his neck. I’m still sitting on his lap, and my head falls back as
his tongue traces the edge of my bra. “We need to make the most of our time,”
he says, his voice muffled. “Starting now.”

“Umm hmm,” I agree.

His hands travel up my back as he continues to
kiss me, pulling my bra straps down my shoulders. “Backseat?” he murmurs.

I lift my head and start to scoot off his lap. “I
thought you’d never ask.”

“I’m having second thoughts.”

I pull my eyes from the sparkling diamonds in
front of me to look at Pete. “Stop. Jules is going to love the ring you picked
out for her.”

“Mr. Elliott,” the sales woman interrupts. “Remember,
here at Tiffany’s, we have a thirty-day refund policy. If your fiancée prefers
a different style, you can always exchange your purchase.”

“Thank you,” Pete leans forward to read her
name tag, “Ellen. I hope that won’t be necessary. I’ve spent too much time here
as it is.”

I roll my eyes at my brother as I go back to
looking at the jewelry. We’ve been here less than two hours. I’ve had fun
standing in for Jules and trying on different rings for size. The one my
brother chose is a one-carat square diamond on a plain platinum band. It’s beautiful
and elegant, just like Jules. She’s going to love it.

“Here you are, sir.” Another sales associate
delivers two months’ of his salary in an unmistakable blue bag. “Good luck with
your proposal.” She smiles.

“Thanks,” he says and takes the dainty handles.
“Although, her answer is a sure thing.”

My eyes meet my brother’s and we start to laugh.
The sales ladies give us curious looks. We didn’t tell them he had already tied
the knot.

As we leave the store, I sigh. So many pretty
things in one place. It reminds me of the last diamonds I wore –  the earrings
Derek gave me. I wonder if anyone picked them up off the floor at the wedding
reception. I’m sure they weren’t cheap. Or, maybe they were fake. He said they
weren’t, but he certainly was.

“Now we need to come up with a way to break the
news to Jules,” Pete says as he holds the door open. “You said her proposal
needs to be epic.”

I walk past him and out into the hustle of
Michigan Avenue. Little does he know I have news of my own. I haven’t told him
about the tour yet. I was going to bring it up this morning after breakfast,
but he suggested ring shopping before I could. I didn’t want to ruin the trip,
in case he got pissy about me taking off across the country with three guys I
don’t know.

“You said you had a couple ideas,” I say. “What
are they?”

“At the top of the Ferris wheel on Navy Pier,
or on the observation deck of the Willis Tower.”

My brow furrows. “Does she like heights?”

He shrugs. “I thought those were unique places.
I don’t want to do it at a restaurant or rent a scoreboard. Jules doesn’t do
sports. She does fitness.”

“What about sky writing?” I ask. “You could
hire a plane and have it pull a banner over the lake.”

He frowns. “I just dropped some serious cash on
this ring.” He holds the bag with one finger. “I think hiring a plane is out of
my price range. Unless you know a pilot.”

Unfortunately, I don’t.

“Any other ideas?” Pete asks.

I tilt my head in thought as I keep up with
foot traffic. “When did you want to do this?  I need some time to think.”

“I’m not in a big hurry. But I’d like to do it
before we head home for Christmas.”

I smile. My parents are going to be so excited.
“I can come up with something before December. Especially if I’m going to be
spending a lot of time on a bus.”

“Why would you be on a bus?”

We stop at the edge of the sidewalk to wait for
the street light. I guess now is as good a time as any to tell my brother I’m
leaving. I look up at him. “I have some news.”

His questioning look doesn’t hide his annoyance.
I’m sure he assumes what I have to say is bad. “What did he do?” he asks.

“Who?”

“Latson.”

“Nothing!  He’s being very supportive.”

“Of?”

I take a deep breath. “You know Dean?”

Pete nods.

“He’s going on tour. He’s opening for Ariel
Allyn, and he wants me to play in his band.”

My brother’s eyes grow wide. “
The
Ariel
Allyn?”

“Is there another?”

In one quick swoop, Pete wraps me in a bear hug
and lifts me off the ground. “You’re going to be famous!”

People standing next to us start to back away. “Put
me down,” I laugh. “I’m not going to be famous.”

“You never know,” he says as my feet touch the
sidewalk. “When did this happen?  I knew you could play after Latson’s party,
but damn. A tour?  Have you told mom and dad?”

“Not yet. It just fell in my lap last night.”

The light changes and we start to walk across
the street. “So, spill,” Pete says. “When do the shows start?”

“Late June in L.A.”

“So, you’ll be here a couple more weeks?”

“No. We need to rehearse. I leave after
Oliver’s school picnic.” I was relieved when I got home and finished reading
Dean’s email. Our flight leaves next Thursday evening. I have a date with a
certain little boy, and I didn’t want to let him down.

“When it rains, it pours, huh?” Pete bumps his
arm against mine. “New boyfriend, new career, new sister-in-law.” He lets out a
low whistle. “Maybe you should thank me for making you come out here.”

I bump his arm back, but harder. “I would have
had the sister-in-law regardless, but I do thank you.” I smirk up at him. “I
might even miss you while I’m gone.”

“You’d better.” Pete’s walk slows a little. “I know
all of us will miss you. How long will you be on the road?”

“Until November. I’ll be back before
Thanksgiving.”

He nods. “This is big.” He stops walking. “I’m
proud of you, Jen.”

“Don’t be proud yet. I haven’t done anything.” I
step out of the way of passing pedestrians. “I didn’t compete for this. Dean
handed it to me. It could be a disaster.”

“Nah.” Pete shakes his head. “You’ll do fine.”

“C’mon.” I grab his wrist and pull him along. “Latson
helped Dean write a few of his songs, and he said he’d work with me before I
go.”

“Work with you or work on hooking up with you?”

I shoot him a sarcastic look. Does he think
that hasn’t happened yet?  “Do you really want to know?”

He closes his eyes. “Never mind.”

We walk half a block in silence before I say,
“I’m surprised you’re on board with this. Aren’t you worried about me?  What
happened to Protective Pete?”

“He’s still around.” My brother gives me his
fatherly stare as we get stopped at another street crossing. “But this is a
professionally run organization. You’ll be surrounded by people, and Dean’s not
trying to get into your pants.”

“You’re right.” The light changes and we start
to walk. “However, I will be spending months on a bus with him and two other
guys.”

Pete’s expression changes. “Wait. What?”

I skip ahead of him, dodging a few people so he
can’t lecture me.

“Come back here!” he shouts and tries to catch
up. It’s not easy to for him to work around people with his big body. “Little
J!”

I laugh and start to run. I’m going to miss
teasing him while I’m gone.

~~~~

“Let’s take it from the top of “The Short Life”,”
Latson says as I reposition my fingers. We ran through the ballad a couple of
times before switching gears to the faster paced “To Hell and Back.”

As he plays next to me, I concentrate on the
chords, waiting for my turn to join in. We’re sitting in the infamous guitar
room, the one he mentioned during our fire escape talk. He wasn’t lying; he
really has a room full of guitars. In fact, it’s set up more like a mini-studio,
with soundproof insulation on the walls and a mixing board in the corner. There
are at least fifteen instruments in here, including the Fender, along with a few
amps and mics.

He nods as he comes to the end of the first
verse, indicating it’s time for me to play. The first part of this song
features the lead alone, then the rest of the band joins in. Latson sings the
chorus, since I don’t know all the words yet:

“I’m down so low, you’re up so high

A million miles an hour

The speed you fly

Never catching up, never slowing down

Short is the life

We’re burning into the ground.”

At first I keep up, but then I start to stumble
through the rest of the song. I find myself paying more attention to the words
than the notes. I try to focus, but this is the third time I’ve heard the
lyrics. Before the song ends, Latson stops playing and gives me a curious look.
“What’s wrong?  Did your fingers seize up?”

“Of all of the things you make me do, the worst
of them is missing you,”
I quote a line from the song. The words are so sad.
“Who is Dean missing?”

Latson shrugs one shoulder as he shifts his
weight. “He lost a sister, too.”

“The song is about Audrey?” I don’t know why
I’m surprised. “I thought it was about a woman.”

Latson acts nonchalant. “Audrey was a woman.”

“You know what I meant.” I reach over and set
my hand on his arm. “If you would rather I learn this one on my own that’s
okay.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. When Dean
started to write the song it was originally about an old girlfriend.”

Oh. “When did that change?”

Latson gives me a pointed look. “After our
sister killed herself.”

His words make me do a double-take. “I thought
you blamed someone named Levi for her death.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “Hang on.” He sets
his guitar down and then heads over to the corner where the mixing board sits. There’s
a small desk there too, and he opens the top drawer. When he returns to me,
he’s holding a picture. “This is us,” he says as he hands it to me.

The picture is of a group of people standing
outside a tour bus. The girls have their arms wrapped around one another, and
the guys try to look like hard asses by striking rocker poses. I find Latson
standing next to Dean in the back; his hair is longer and he has his fist in
the air. Dean is sticking his tongue out and giving the camera the bird. My
eyes skip over the people I don’t know and land on the girls. I recognize
Heidi, even without her red hair. She’s blonde in this picture and has her arm
around another girl’s waist. Their heads are tipped together, but I know it’s
Audrey without asking. She has the same color hair as Latson, except it’s wavy.
I can see Oliver in her, especially in her eyes and mouth. She has cheekbones
some women would die for.

“There’s Audrey and Heidi,” Latson points, “and
Paige, Lauren, and Shannon. They were all friends with my sister. If you ever
get bored, ask Dean about Shannon.” He wags his eyebrows. “That’s a good
story.”

“Is she the old girlfriend?” I ask, referring
to the song.

“Possibly.” He smiles and moves on. “There’s
me, Dean, Rob, Mike, Luke…” His tone changes. “And Levi.”

I look at the guy he obviously hates. He’s
tall, taller than Latson, and casually dressed like the rest of them. The
exception to his appearance is his brown hair is styled, while the other guys have
messy mops on their heads. He has piercing blue eyes, but they look smug, like
he’s hiding something. He’s also standing at the edge of the group, like he’s
included but not accepted. “He looks shady,” I say. “I didn’t know he was in
your band.”

“He wasn’t. He was our agent.” Latson leans
back in his chair. “Heidi kept running into him at shows and she introduced him
to my sister. What started as a working relationship turned into more.”

“More?”

He nods toward the photo. “You’re looking at
Oliver’s dad.”

What?  I study Levi closely. I see nothing of
Oliver in him. “Is it weird that I never gave a thought to who his father was?”

Latson shrugs. “It’s just as well. Oliver never
knew him. Levi stayed with Audrey through the pregnancy, but as soon as she had
O, he left. He didn’t want anything to do with a baby.”

“That’s awful.” How could anyone leave O?  Or
Audrey?  She’s gorgeous and, from what Latson told me earlier, really smart. Or
was she?

“Please tell me she didn’t OD because of this
asshole.” I hold out the picture.

“Levi introduced her to drugs,” Latson says. “Hell,
we all tried something at some point.” He studies his hands. “She stopped using
when she found out she was pregnant, but started again after he left. It didn’t
help that my father practically disowned her after he found out she had a baby
and no husband. She named Oliver after my dad to try to smooth things over.” Latson
looks me in the eye. “It didn’t work.”

It’s hard for me to imagine the kind doctor who
helped me abandoning his only daughter. “So, she committed suicide?  I mean,
things sound like they were shitty, but she had you and Dean and –”

“I don’t think she meant to,” Latson says. “Dean
and I got her into rehab, and I kept Oliver while she got clean. When she was sober,
I talked her into terminating Levi’s parental rights.”