Joy Ride (29 page)

Maybe she should go to Marc’s house and wait for him. Or just go home.

But he’d told her to go on ahead to the dressing room. He’d left from the other side of the stage so he was probably already there.

I’m a grown woman who can certainly find the way to the dressing room by myself.

Making her way down the hall, she found the place she was looking for and heard the sound of voices even before she opened the door. It sounded to her as if everyone was talking at once.

Good news. Of course everyone’s excited
.

She walked in, looked around…and stopped. Her heart stopped, too.

Marc stood against the wall with his shirt open, and Lacey was plastered against him like white on rice, her mouth attached to his in a lip-lock unlike any Emma had ever seen. One leg was wrapped around his hips and a hand planted firmly on his butt. Marc was gripping her shoulders. Someone—maybe more than one person—was encouraging them with piercing wolf whistles and loud clapping.

“You get him, Lacey,” one of the women yelled. “That’s the way.”

“You always get so damn lucky, Marco Polo.” Emma thought it was someone from the band but she couldn’t be sure.

Pain lanced through her; maybe the worst she’d ever felt. Everything inside her seemed to shrivel up and die. If she could have evaporated into the air she would have. Instead she seemed frozen to the floor, sick with a sense of betrayal, her heart cracking into pieces.

He lied. That was all she could think. Not have anything going with Lacey? Not interested? All lies. But why? What was the point? Her heart felt as if an axe had pierced it, the pain radiating through her body. A sense of total betrayal consumed her. From start to finish everything had been a fraud.

It was all a fake. Pretend. A line he fed me. Why? It’s not as if he can’t have his pick of women. But damn it, he seemed so sincere and I almost bought it.

Maybe he was intrigued by the “good girl” Emma. And when all was said and done, that was who she really was. The purple streak? The new clothes? Dancing to the rock music? That belonged to Music Lady, a role she apparently didn’t play very well.

So why this charade? Why bring me tonight? To humiliate me?

Oh God, it hurts. It hurts so much.

The pain nearly doubled her over and for a moment, she couldn’t even catch her breath.

The instant everyone spotted her, the conversation and noise died as though an off switch had been flipped. Marc’s gaze landed on her, and he shoved Lacey away from him.

“ML.” He started toward her.

“Don’t come near me. Don’t come anywhere close to me.”

She ran from the dressing room, barely avoiding all the obstacles on the floor, tears clogging her throat and blinding her eyes. She should have known the exhilarating joy ride would come to a crashing halt. Didn’t they always? How long could you safely ride the edge of danger, anyway?

This one?

She’d hoped it would be forever. What a stupid fool she was.

“ML!”

She heard him shout her name, but she just kept on until she got to the back door and slammed out into the parking lot. Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly fish her car keys out of her jeans pocket. She was fumbling with the lock on the door when he caught up with her, grabbing her and pulling her around to face him.

“Stop,” he said, breathing hard. “Listen to me.”

But when she looked at him, she saw the bright red imprint of Lacey’s lipstick on his face and she felt sick to her stomach. She jerked her arm free, stumbling against the car.

“Get away from me. Just…get away from me.”

She finally got the door unlocked and herself inside. Marc was still trying to hang on to the door when she backed out of the parking space, but she floored the accelerator and knocked him to the ground. By the time she was out of the lot and onto the street, the tears had broken free in earnest, flooding her eyes to the point she couldn’t see. She turned into a gas station, stopping at the far side of the building, and sat there while the sobs ripped out of her as if yanked by a giant fist.

After a long time the waterworks eased and she mopped her face with tissues from the glove box. Her throat was raw and her body ached all over.

I was so afraid of this. Afraid he’d realize we weren’t meant for each other and want Lacey instead. Or someone like her. I was fooling myself all the time.

Lacey hinted to her they had a history and the clinch made it obvious. Anyway, the redhead was far more savvy, far more experienced than Emma. She’d just swooped in and picked up wherever it was she and Marc had left off.

The image flashed across her mind again, and tears well up once more. Lord, hadn’t she cried enough already?

Maybe I should have waited for him to explain.

Yeah? Explain what? Everyone in the room knew what was going on. They’re probably all laughing at me. Damn rock musicians, anyway
.

She had no idea how long she sat beside the darkened building, wondering if she would be able to drive home. The pain in her heart speared through her whole body. And she was cold. Even though it was summertime, she was suddenly freezing, shivering hard enough to make her bones rattle. She turned on the car’s heater and soon had it blasting at her like a furnace but the chill wouldn’t go away.

Eventually she pulled herself together enough to start the car again and head out into the street. Somehow she managed to get herself home and into the house. She didn’t think she had any tears left, but by the time she reached her bedroom, her eyes were flooded again.

I knew it. I just knew it
.

Becoming involved with Marc, addicted to him, was one of the biggest mistakes of her life. She wanted excitement and she’d gotten it, but along the way, she’d left her brain in cold storage. If she’d thought it out, she’d accepted from the beginning she was out of his league. Maybe she should savor that one night with him and never gone back to the club. But her heart and her hormones conspired against her to defeat common sense. And this was what she got.

She threw herself onto the bed and just let them flow, questioning if it was possible to die from too much crying. Or too much heartache.

***

Marc was beside himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so upset. He didn’t even feel the scrapes on his skin from where he’d fallen on the asphalt. He couldn’t believe she’d just driven off without even giving him a chance to explain.

Shit. How the fuck had this happened?

“Hey, Marc. Marco Polo.”

Marc whirled to face Rick. “Don’t ever call me that stupid fucking name again or I’ll have to really hurt you.”

“Whoa.” Rick pulled to a stop and held up his hands. “What’s going on, buddy? What’s the deal here?”

“You know what the fucking deal is. I’ve been screwed. Damn that bitch Lacey. She’s been after me since the first time she saw us play.”

“But you never hung out with her. Hooked up.” Rick frowned. “Did you?”

“Of course not.” He was sick with rage and heartache. “She’s a piece of trash. When I find out who gave her the pass for tonight I’ll tear him a new one. She’s chased away the best thing to come into my life.”

Rick frowned. “Are you talking about ML? Or whatever the hell her name is? Jesus, Marc, the broad won’t even tell you her name. I don’t even know why you brought her tonight. How can you get so twisted up about someone who hides who she is? That’s nuts.”

Marc grabbed Rick by the shirt and got right in his face. “Don’t you dare call her a broad, you asshole.”

“Wait. Wait a minute.” Rick grabbed his wrists and tried to yank them away. “Is there more going on here than I know about? I know she’s been eating up your brain, though who the hell knows why. There are plenty of other women where she came from.”

“She’s not just any woman. I’ve been trying to tell you.” His words were as brittle as chips of ice. “This is my Music Lady. She’s special. Very special. I told you how I felt, for chrissake. And now I don’t even have a clue how to find her.”

“Listen.” Rick’s voice was apologetic. “We all thought Lacey was just being cute with you. Who the hell knew you had something serious going?”

“Lacey knew,” Marc spat out. “She’s seen her at the club a few times. This was just her nasty way of getting back at me for turning her down.”

“Okay. All right.” Rick eased himself from Marc’s grip. “I’ll take the heat for not taking your situation more seriously, pass the word to everyone to lay off and help you figure out how to find her. But right now, can we go inside? Butch is waiting to talk to us again. Things went really well tonight. You’ll be pleased.”

He threw his arm around Marc’s shoulder and began leading him toward the door.

He shrugged off Rick’s hand and moved toward the facility with long, angry strides.

Damn you, Lacey. And damn me for being caught off guard by her
.

Rage exploded again as he remembered the uncomfortable feel of her and his efforts to peel her away from his body.

“I want to know who brought that bitch, Lacey, tonight,” Marc growled over his shoulder.

“You can lay that one on Danny, but please let it go for the moment.” Rick caught up to him as they reached the door.

Marc froze. “
Danny’s
seeing her?”

“No. He’s with her sister, Shelley. And Shelley begged him to get a pass for Lacey. Marc, if I’d had any idea what she had in mind, or where you and ML stood—”

Marc held up his hand. “Stop.” He sucked in a deep breath, control threatening to desert him. He had business to take care of. “We’ll work it out later. But before I go back inside there, I want the women out. All of them. If someone has a problem with that, they can take it up with me.”

He was still vibrating with rage when they re-entered the facility and headed toward the dressing room. Leaning against the wall with his hands shoved in his pockets, he waited while Rick cleared the room. He didn’t move until Lacey stormed past him with two other women. Like quicksilver, he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“That was a rotten thing to do, Lacey.” He had to restrain himself from actually doing her bodily harm.

“Why?” she sneered. “Because it offended Little Miss Nobody?” Lacey tossed her thick mane of hair over her shoulder. “She’s not your style and you know it.”

“You have no idea what my style is, but I can assure you, you’re not it.” He gritted his teeth. “You’ve tried that game before and I wasn’t buying it then, either.” He was aware everyone had stopped at the door to watch their little tableau play out, but he didn’t care. “I’m going to tell you something for your own good.” His voice was pitched low and uninflected but not even an idiot could mistake the fury bubbling beneath it. “Don’t come around me again. Don’t come around this band. Don’t even show up where we’re performing. Because I promise you, if you do, I will make your life a living hell.”

“You think you’re such hot shit,” she sneered. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

“Yes, I do. And I don’t play around with used goods.” He pushed her away. “Now get out of here.”

She stamped along the floor in the wake of the others, twitching her ass as if Marc would in any way find her movement appealing.

“Come on.” Rick clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ve got important business to discuss. Good business. Let’s get the band taken care of. Tomorrow we’ll see if there’s a way to find your Music Lady.”

Chapter Fifteen

Emma couldn’t ever remember feeling as bad as she did. She cried enough tears for ten people, her eyes and throat raw and painful. She was thankful she was alone so no one had to see her misery or force her to interact with them. She managed to call the human resources number at work and leave a message on the machine she was taking a sick day. Maybe two. The sun was coming up by the time she pulled off her clothes and threw them on the floor. For some perverse reason, she dug out the Lightnin’ T-shirt Marc had given her and slipped it on, his scent invading her body, and then she crawled into bed. Still cold, she hauled the covers up tightly and tucked them beneath her chin, wondering if she’d ever be warm again, and curled up into a fetal ball.

This is the worst birthday I’ve ever had in my life
.

She’d looked forward to it with such expectations. Tonight she would have told Marc what her name was, all about herself, and they’d have a big celebration for her birthday and the success of the concert appearance.

Yeah, right. How dumb could I be?

She was convinced she wouldn’t be able to sleep but eventually sheer exhaustion claimed her.

The telephone woke her, dragging her up from what felt like a vat of cotton balls but she chose to let it ring. There wasn’t anyone she wanted to talk to. Certainly not her folks, who would be calling to see how her birthday went. The phone rang at least six more times until Emma managed to stumble out of bed and unplug it from the wall. If it rang in the kitchen, at least, it wouldn’t be so loud.

Emma drifted back to sleep only to be disturbed by someone ringing her doorbell and banging on the front door. When even pulling the pillows over her head didn’t blot out the sound, she pushed herself out of bed and staggered down the hallway to the front door.

This better not be dipshit Andrew. It would be just like him to show upon my birthday with flowers and chocolates and think he could make nice with me
.

But when she peered through the peephole, what she saw was even worse.

Annie. In full attack mode.

Oh, hell.

“I know you’re in there,” Annie called. “You better open the door or I’ll get someone to break it down.”

She sighed, brushed the hair out of her eyes, unlocked the door, and pulled it open.

“Enter at your own risk,” she muttered and headed back to her bedroom.

“Holy shit!” Annie trailed after her. “You look like hell. Worse than that. What happened? I thought last night was the big celebration?”

“Yeah. Some celebration.” She crawled back into bed and yanked the covers up over her head.