Joy Ride (23 page)

“Really?” He grinned. “Not American Idol?”

“I don’t watch….” She swatted at him. “You’re teasing me. No fair.”

“Okay, okay. Anyway, it’s your turn now.”

They tossed questions back and forth for a few minutes. Emma caught glimpses of Marc she didn’t see on stage or in bed. Things that made up the real person. Was that what he was doing with her?

Her confidence grew each time they were together, and she was feeling better about herself when she was with him. But what if she took that final leap? The specter of her parents loomed over her along with their friends and the people at her office. The purple streak in the hair had already been a cause for comment. What would they think of Marc?

Grow up, Emma. You aren’t sixteen any more
.

“ML?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you go?” He stroked his thumb down the line of her jaw. “You drifted away for a minute.”

“I’m here.”

“Ask me if I have any big news.”

She looked at him, startled. “Do you?”

“Ask the question,” he prompted.

“Okay, okay.” She flopped back on the pillows. “Marc, do you have any big news for me?”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

“No fair,” she cried. “That’s not an answer.”

“Hmm. I think you’re right. Well. You know we’re only at Aftershock for one more week.”

Emma tensed. Was he leading into a goodbye? Giving her time to adjust to the fact in seven days this would all be over? Was this his big news? Surely he wouldn’t do it so casually. Would he?

Why not, you idiot? All you show up for is sex. Has he had enough? Didn’t you worry that was the way he saw you? Now the shoe’s probably on the other foot
.

“So what’s next for you?” She hoped she sounded more casual than she felt.

“Two things.” He kissed her forehead and wound his fingers through her hair. “The biggest thing is a possible huge concert date at the Amphitheatre.”

She leaned her head back so she could see his face. “The Amphitheatre? The big concert facility? I see ads for it all the time. That really
is
huge. A big deal for Lightnin’.”

“It is. You have no idea.”

She sensed the excitement rippling through him, like music in a finely tuned instrument.

“So give,” she said. “I want all the details.”

She listened carefully while he explained about Rick Trajean’s connection with the manager of Deep Blue River. About the band forced to cancel as the opening act at the Amphitheatre. And about the invitation for Rick to meet with Butch Meredith with a good video of the band he could critique and decide if Lightnin’ would be a good fit for Deep Blue River. If they were professional enough. Exciting enough.

“We’re really humping this weekend to get the video finished and fine-tuned. There’s so much that goes into it, and we’ve only got two days.”

“Is that what you did today?” She pushed herself up on one elbow so she could really look at him. “You must be exhausted.”

His grin was so seductive she thought it should be illegal. “I can always find energy for you, ML.”

She brushed her lips across the stubble on his jaw. “So tell me about it. How you do it? You know.”

“Well.” He cupped a breast, lightly rubbing his thumb over the nipple. “We did the video portion today. Shot the visual as well as us singing and playing the song. But we won’t use that sound.”

“Why not?”

“It’s scratchy. Not blended. It’s just so we’ll have the lip movements to blend the soundtrack with. Tomorrow we’ll lay down the real tracks—”

“Lay down the tracks?” she interrupted. “What are tracks?”

“Recording of the actual song,” he answered. “Each vocal and each instrument is captured in a separate track. Then the sound engineer will do the mix and sync it to our singing on the video. And if it all comes together, we’ll have a polished video like the ones you see on The Music Channel. Or YouTube.”

“I don’t watch The Music Channel.” She was embarrassed to admit it, wondering if he’d think she was a dork.

“YouTube, then.” His thumb continued to idly rub her nipple. “You know what YouTube is, right?”

“Uh huh. Of course I do.”
But I don’t go there to watch rock bands
. Of course she didn’t need to tell him that.

“There you go. And if we’re really, really, really lucky, the gods will smile on us and the whole thing will come together in a perfect package.”

“And you can do that all in two days?” She had so little knowledge of how anything like this worked.

“We have to. It’s all the time we have and anyway, we fell into an empty slot in everyone’s schedule so we got bottom rates for it.”

She kissed him lightly. “Marc, that’s so exciting. When will you know?”

“Monday after Rick meets with Butch Meredith.”

She hated herself for asking the next question. “But the week in between you’ll be gone someplace else, right?”

“Actually, it’s an off week for us. We planned it that way. Now we’ll have time to rehearse our set. If we get the gig. Deep Blue River’s record guys will be there and if they like us….”

His voiced trailed off even though the exhilaration radiating from him was electric. Even Emma knew this could be a very big break for the band. She wanted to be thrilled for him—and she was, but also far from ready to let him go. She was just so afraid if all this happened, the fragile relationship growing between them would somehow disappear.

And there was the old Emma, still uncertain and unsure.

“Hey.” He moved his hand away from her breast and pulled her down into his arms. “If we get the date, would you like to come and see it?”

Her heart thudded. “The concert? Really? You could get me a ticket?”

He laughed. “I could do even better. I’ll get you a pass. Tell you what door to come in and what to do. What do you think?”

“When is it?”

“Next Sunday night. Can you make it?”

Emma nearly shook with suppressed delight. Make it? How could she not? And it was her birthday! What a great present.

“I’d love it. Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Absolutely.” He hugged her tightly. “We’ll get a limited number of passes, and I really would like you to be there.”

Ohmigod! He wanted her to be there with his friends. Out in a place much bigger than Aftershock. So she was important enough for him to include her. She wondered if the redhead she’d seen at the club would be there and if so, who was bringing her? And would she be all over Marc?

But then a thought struck at her, diminishing her enthusiasm. “You’d have to know….”

“Your name?” he finished, as if knowing what she was about to say. “Would it really be so bad for you to tell me?”

Would it? Why did she continue to cling to such concealment, like some kind of security blanket? She’d been intimate with him in ways she’d only imagined before. But they were so different. From separate worlds. Now it was more than the inability to get past the fear that the bubble would burst, and she’d need a place to hide and heal her broken heart. She was equally nervous about bringing him into her world, worried people would only see the rocker with the tattoo sleeve and long hair and not the intelligent, caring, solid individual she was coming to see him as. The normal things she’d learned about him.

No. She wasn’t ready to chance it yet.

Scaredy-cat
.

“I know you think it’s stupid,” she told him. “I’m sorry. If you want to change your mind about the concert….”

“No.” His arms tightened around herm and he feathered a kiss over her forehead. “I’ll work it out. I respect you enough, ML, to wait until you trust me enough to tell me yourself. To really let me into your life. “

“Thank you.” She pressed herself against him. “You’re just so…thank you.” Her heart squeezed at his words and tears clogged her throat. Maybe they did have something real here if she could just take that last step. She could see happiness with him shimmering just beyond that final barrier if she just had the courage to reach out and grab it.

“I definitely want you there at the concert. With me.” Another light kiss. “You’ll really get to see first hand what this business is all about.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. It’s a very special night for me and I want to share it with you. How can I make music without my Music Lady?”

“This is like a dream come true for you, isn’t it?”

“It’s what every musician works for. Pushes himself for. Dreams of.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t you have dreams, Music Lady?”

Of course she did. Could she tell him?

“Well?” he persisted. “Come on, everyone has dreams.”

“Yes,” she answered in a small voice. She‘d never let anyone in on this secret. “I want to write.”

“Yeah?” His eyes lit up. “Sounds great. Write what?”

“Um, well, romance novels.” Her heart of heart’s desire. She had notebooks filled with scribbled ideas, still shoved in a box in her closet where no one would find them. Her hidden dreams that she’d never had the guts to go after. Kind of like the way she was afraid to take that final step with Marc.

“So why don’t you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.” But she did. Not enough courage. Not enough faith in herself. Fear of criticism by her parents. By the few men in her life. Especially Andrew.

“ML, listen. Music was
my
dream and when I was a lot younger, I was afraid to reach for it. All of us in the band were. Except maybe for Rick. But we took one step and then another and look where we are now.”

“There’s a lot of rejection in the publishing business,” she pointed out.

“Just like in the music business. But if you settle for nothing, then nothing’s all you’ll ever have.

Just like she’d been willing to settle for Andrew.

“If it’s truly your dream,” he went on, “you should give yourself a chance. Worst case, you won’t be any worse off than you are now. Right?”

“I guess so.” If she could accept what Marc was offering and give herself completely to him, trust and all, then she could also reach for her dreams. Somehow believing in him and believing in herself all became wrapped up together.

She glanced at the red numbers on the clock beside the bed and sighed. It was that time again.

Each time it got harder and harder for her to do this: pull away from him and leave before dawn. Her heart was seriously involved now, and she had to admit to herself how much she’d enjoy waking up in his arms. Having breakfast with him. Maybe cooking for him in his magnificent kitchen, although if cooking was his thing, she’d let him wait on her. Reading the Sunday paper together. All the things making up a relationship. She was so conflicted, as if her heart was taking flight while her feet were locked to the ground in cement shoes.

But she was fighting thirty years of ingrained behavior that refused to let go. Breaking the final tie was damn hard.

He tensed beside her. “Can’t you stay? Just a little longer? I still want to take you to breakfast.”

“No. I’m sorry. I…I really have to go.”

Reluctantly, she eased herself from his arms, slid from the bed and dressed quickly. He had no idea how bad she wanted to stay, but sticking to her routine was another part of her self-protection. At least it was the weekend, and she could sleep in. Thank God.

“You’ll be back next week?”

“Of course. But…maybe not every night. Okay?” She needed some breathing room. Time to get her head straightened out again. She hadn’t let him know that next Sunday, the night of the concert, was her birthday. Truthfully she wasn’t sure yet if she was going to. She couldn’t figure out why he kept choosing to spend so much time with her instead of someone like the redhead from the club. Someone flashier, more outgoing, more into “the scene”.

“I’ll take what I can get.” His voice was strained but his smile was warm.

“Thank you.”

As usual Marc climbed out of bed naked and followed her through the house to the front door. “Music Lady?”

She turned, her hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“Just…this.”

He cradled her face in his warm palms and pressed his mouth to hers. His tongue slipped inside as if it belonged there, tasting her inner surfaces, drinking from her. He kissed her until she couldn’t breathe.

“Keep that in mind until I see you again.” He stroked a finger along her cheek.

This time he didn’t come out on the porch to watch her leave, simply stood in the doorway. The image of him burned itself into her brain. Along with a thought she wanted desperately to dismiss.

She was falling in love with Marc Malone.

***

“A concert?” Annie’s eyes widened. “He’s getting you a backstage pass to a concert?”

“Uh huh.” Emma took a bite from the slice of pizza she was holding.

The two women sat cross-legged on Annie’s living room floor, the pizza box between them, a half-empty bottle of wine on the coffee table along with two glasses. She’d slept late, exhausted in a well-sated way from the hours with Marc. Then Annie called late in afternoon demanding the latest details and offering wine and pizza as a bribe.

“And they’re opening for Deep Blue River?”

“Maybe.” Emma chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of her wine. “They’re making the tracks today and blending everything for the video.”

“
Recording
the tracks,” Annie corrected. “And mixing the sound.”

Emma lifted an eyebrow. “Since when are you so familiar with the lingo?”

“Since I was sixteen and hung up on rock music and soaking in everything I could like every other teenager. Except you.” She laughed, but her face sobered instantly. “Honey, I did not mean anything by it. Okay? Please?”

Emma tucked her hair behind her ears. “I know you didn’t. I’m just now beginning to realize all the things I missed out on.” She took another sip of wine, wishing that her parents could be half as understanding. That they could see beyond the Emma they’d created. The thought of explaining Marc to them very nearly gave her a case of the hives. “Still, I can’t keep blaming my parents. They raised me the way they’d always lived, my friends were the same and I guess I was oblivious to everything else.”

“Too bad I wasn’t around.” She swallowed a bite of pizza. “I’d have turned you into the original wild child.”