Out Of Place (Face the Music Book 2) (10 page)

“Since I was sixteen.” Her voice was almost squeaky.
Try and sound like an adult.
“Six years.”
Better.
“First as a waitress, and then as a bookkeeper once I got my certificate four in accounting. I waitress when it gets busy.”
Okay, shut up.

She was babbling because she was nervous.

“Francine mentioned that. Said you’d been invaluable.”

Frankie, her name was Frankie. She hated being called Francine. Did this man know nothing? She was glad for Frankie’s recommendation. Hopefully this wouldn’t go badly.

“Why certificate four and not uni?”

“Um…” She swallowed. “I was in a car accident a couple of years ago. At the time certificate four was all I could do. I’m hoping to go to uni the year after next to get my degree.” That was the truth…just not all of it. She wasn’t game to mention Ethan. Saying she was a single mother would be another black mark against her name—not that he needed a reason to fire her and he already didn’t seem to like her lack of degree.

Why hadn’t Frankie make her permanent part-time instead of leaving her as a casual?

He nodded and folded his hands on the desk. “I was an accountant for over thirty years so it’s always nice to see young people come into the profession.” He was speaking as if she were a child in need of a lesson. “I hope you do complete your degree, but the Indiana Swan no longer needs you as bookkeeper.”

Her stomach plummeted and hit the bottom. He didn’t need her. She sat there for a moment unable to move or speak. While she’d expected this, she’d hoped—prayed—for a different outcome.

“That’s it?” Six years of work and she was done?

He spread his hands. “You’re casual and I like numbers.”

Right.
She wasn’t going to beg.

“Okay then.” She hoped her legs would hold as she stood. Her stomach turned and she almost threw up. While hurling on his desk would make her feel better, it was not the exit she wanted to make.

She may not have a job, but she had her dignity.

As she walked out she said goodbye to the staff. Her leaving amplified the tension. Hopefully they’d be safe—at least in the short-term.

Once in the open air, with the sun striking her skin, she allowed herself to crumble. Her next breath was part sob. But it was sadness mixed with relief. At least the wait was over and she knew where she stood. Her life was back in her control—even if she had no idea how to steer.

The ocean caught her gaze. She had nowhere else to be right now, and no idea what to do, so she crossed the road, searching for Ed’s car. At the end of the car park she saw it and her heart did a little flip.

Her lips remembered the kiss.

And while she should be concentrating on finding another job, all she wanted to do was watch him surf and live vicariously through his freedom. While he wasn’t well enough known to be recognised, he was still a rock star. As she watched him on the water, she realised that they had nothing in common except this place.

And now not even that.

Why had she ever thought seeing him was a good idea? While she wanted fun, she didn’t want to get burnt. She shouldn’t be contemplating a summer fling with him, no matter how much she wanted him.

They lived in two different worlds.

Ed was trying to make the most of every wave today. The surf was pretty small, but consistent, and for the most part he was letting a new melody roll through his head while he waited for Olivia to finish work. If not for her he might have skipped the waves today…he’d have also have missed out on the melody.

His gaze scanned the shore. Someone was perched on the bonnet of his car. He frowned and lifted his hand, squinting into the sun. A woman? Blonde? Wishful thinking?

She raised her hand and waved.

At him? He returned the wave and decided to make for shore. If not for the chance of seeing Olivia, he’d have given up a while ago and sat with his notebook. Thanks to Gemma it was filled with assorted incoherent scribble—and it was much harder to throw them out than when he’d made notes on bits of paper. This way he had to keep every shit idea along with the good ones, or ditch the whole book.

At least it felt like he was doing something.

Not enough, but something. And the album was progressing, albeit very slowly.

When he’d finished showering she was still waiting on the hood of his car. He didn’t bother biting back the grin, or worry about stripping off the rest of his wetsuit in front of her. She blushed and looked away as he grappled with the suit and a towel, but not for long. That warmed him more than any sandgroper summer. While the kiss had been tame, his thoughts hadn’t been and he’d had the rest of the weekend to dwell.

She’d probably be horrified if she knew exactly how horny he was. Her sitting on the hood and looking at him like that wasn’t helping. He wrapped a towel around himself and ditched his wet jocks. The towel did a better job of hiding where his thoughts were going.

“Been watching long?”

“No.” she glanced at him again, but she was trying not to let her gaze wander downwards. Every time it got below his chin she did a tiny flinch.

As much as he liked her looking, it was nice that she wasn’t obviously ogling. He wasn’t hungry only for sex; he wanted her.

He moved closer and placed his hands on the warm metal of the hood. “Been enjoying the view?”

Would she bite and lean closer so he could kiss her? Her lips parted and her gaze met his. The air became syrupy. Thick and hot as time hung.

“Yeah.” She angled a little more toward him. He hoped the towel was doing its job and was in no danger of falling off. An indecent exposure charge was not what he needed…but if it meant kissing Olivia it might be worth it. “I was hoping to find you out here.”

His body pulsed with need. He lifted his hand to touch her cheek. Her skin was hot against his sea-cooled fingers. His thumb brushed her lip and he closed the distance, placing his lips on hers. This time he didn’t want chaste and careful. He needed to know that she wanted him the way he wanted her.

Too often over the last year they’d wanted him, but he hadn’t wanted them, only what they could give him—sex and a taste of stardom. The novelty had worn off when he’d realised that he didn’t want fame to equal random sex.

He wanted more.

His tongue traced her lip. She parted her lips for him. Her mouth was hot. But there was reluctance, as if she was holding back—did she not want to kiss him?

Olivia drew back. She wasn’t as into him as he’d thought. The hot asphalt beneath his flip-flops didn’t open up and swallow him, but the heat left his blood. He was stranded in no-man’s land.

She’d leaned toward him.

She’d watched him surf.

They had something…didn’t they?

“I can’t do this,” she whispered. She didn’t look at him; instead her gaze remained on his hand on the hood.

“Do what?” Was it the kissing in public? Was he going too fast? Had he forgotten how to date? The doubts that plagued his writing now intruded on his love-life—or lack of one. He hadn’t realised he wanted a girlfriend until he’d met Olivia.

“Us.”

One word was a balm and a poison. There was an us and she couldn’t do it. He should step back, laugh and blow it off like it meant nothing, but he couldn’t,

It hurt.

She covered his hand with hers. “I like you. But you’re Ed Vincent, rock star, and I’m a newly unemployed single mum.”

“I’m sorry you lost your job.” He meant that but didn’t understand why she thought they couldn’t see each other.

She gave him a weak smile. “You’ll find a model or actress. Someone who’ll slot in to your glamorous life.”

“I don’t have a glamorous life and I like spending time with you.”

“Until you get bored with me.” She slid off his car. “I need to focus on getting another job and looking after my son.”

“And I’m not suitable?” He didn’t see the problem. They were dating, not talking marriage. They hadn’t done more than kiss.

“I need stability.”

“We‘ve only been on a couple of dates.”

“You’re a rock star.”

That wasn’t how he viewed himself. He was a relative no one in a vast sea of musicians. This was his career. He wanted to write music that made people feel and that earned him enough to live comfortably—if he made millions, he’d quite happily bank the cheque.

“So? You’re a bookkeeper.”

She shook her head. “If my life was less complicated I wouldn’t walk away.”

He stepped back. “Everyone’s life is complicated. And nothing is easy.”

He busied himself getting dressed. His movements were rough and jerky. She was brushing him off, walking away, because of what he did. He couldn’t win when it came to women. Annoyance burnt through him where lust had just been.

They were having fun. Had been having fun.

Why’d she have to wreck it by thinking of the future?

When he looked up she was gone. He swore and slammed the back of the wagon closed.

She was right. Mucking around with her was a distraction he didn’t need. Yeah. She’d done him a favour.

So why did it feel like she’d taken away the sun and left him to freeze?

“Can you function without a beer in your hand?” Ed was sick of seeing Dan on the ancient sofa, nursing a beer and watching everyone else work—and they were making progress now. “Did you want to pick up your guitar and contribute?”

Gemma flicked Dan a glance. For a moment there was a silent conversation between them. If Dan didn’t buck up, Ed was going to have to shake the dirty out of Gemma. He was sure she knew.

There was no way Dan could be taking the breakup with Lisa this badly unless something else had gone on. Ed was pretty sure that was the case, but either way they had to get on with things, not mope.

He was very tempted to pick up the phone and ask Olivia what the hell was going on. She’d walked off, and he wasn’t chasing. He wanted to chase so bad.

Dan downed the rest of his beer in a couple of long swallows, then he stood. He paused for a moment as if unsteady. “I’ve been working. While you flit between chords and rhythms like a parrot with ADD, I’ve finished Mike’s song.”

He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and thrust it at Ed. Ed took the paper—that had definitely seen better days—and unfolded it. He read the title scrawled across the top in black uneven letters.
Seppuku.
He looked at Dan with his eyebrows raised. If the song was like the title…

“I didn’t say you’d like it.” Dan picked up his guitar and gave the strings a thumb playing the bass line from Mike’s song.

Ed’s gaze drifted down the page. Dan’s handwriting wasn’t the neat even script he was used to reading. This was printed and hadn’t been rewritten, as there were lines crossed out.

        I die with honour

        Keeping your secret kills

        The lies of my lover

        Are safe as my blood spills

Ed swallowed. He wasn’t sure he could sing this, and yet as Dan continued playing the bass line—another level of dark—he could feel it coming together. The lyrics fitted. But then, of course they did. It was what Dan did, he came up with words that took the music and gave it breath. In this case it was more like stealing breath.

“Well? Are you going to share?” Mike leaned forward to have a look at what was written.

Ed read the lyrics again.

        You’ve made me the devil

        A wanted man

        But I won’t let you win

        My heart is ash but my soul is mine

He was wrong; Dan was taking the breakup that badly. He looked at Gemma, who’d already relocated to the piano. It seemed everyone wanted to finish something instead of dicking around.

Ed shrugged. “Fine. Guess this one is for me, not Gem.”

Dan nodded.

Ed read through the page again, already hearing it in his mind. He could find the darkness needed to bring this song to completion. His pain may not be as great as Dan’s but Olivia dropping him had hurt. Which made him realise how much he liked her.

He would not call.

She’d maybed coffee.

She’d ducked out of a second date—with good reason—but hadn’t suggested an alternative.

He needed to face reality. She wasn’t that into him, or what he did, if he believed what she said. He was what he did and he knew which had to come first.

Over the last year Ed had done plenty of radio interviews, but this one was different. This was home ground after not getting an ARIA despite several nominations. He’d practised making light of it in case it was raised. The onesie-wearing electro-pop boys would vanish, but Selling the Sun would endure. He hoped.

The radio’s PR person greeted him with a broad smile but she barely looked at him or Gemma because she was too busy getting through her list of things to tell them. It was very familiar even though they were doing more than a quick interview and a sound bite for the station. This one included an acoustic performance, as they were spreading the word about their gig at the Basement on Bannister café.

It was meant to be a fun performance of an album that had influenced them, but with Dan being extra flaky, Ed was extra worried that they’d pull it off. He didn’t have time to dwell as the two breakfast hosts turned their attention to him and Gemma.

Gemma breezed through answering most of the questions, while he couldn’t quite string it together—which everyone assumed was a lack of coffee, not stress. It was starting to close in around him. Mike was working in a real job. Dan was off the rails and racing downhill fast. Gemma’s concerns about her mother were showing, and she was the master at not showing anything. She’d fooled everyone for years.

“So what are you going to play for us?” The female host gave him a wink.

Ed forced a smile. His life was falling apart and the tighter he tried to hold on the faster it disintegrated. “Our most recent single,
Beyond
.”

“I love that one,” Kate or Katy or something like that said.

“So did Australia.” The guy said with a smile in his voice, but not on his mouth. “We all wanted you to bring an ARIA home.”