The Story of Lansing Lotte (50 page)

You guide me home.

It was sung as an acoustic ballad. Several women were dabbing their eyes as Lansing sang the chorus of, “stars light the sky, the moon’s so alone…” I was cold, but sweating with nerves as I listened to the lyrics. My heart raced in panic. Lansing’s voice was so pained as he sang; it touched my soul. I wanted to go to him, but I forced myself to remain hidden. His eyes finally found me, despite the man in front of me. He held onto me with those bright blues as his voice faltered and he whispered, “You guide me home.”

The song ended and a soft cheer went up, appraising the music without sounding like a rock concert of approval. People whistled and clapped enthusiastically, while Lansing set down the guitar. He was suddenly swarmed with people trying to shake his hand and pat him on the back. I slowly stepped backward into the crowd. I saw his head searching, but I let myself dissolve into the mass of people as he shook hands and answered questions.

I was almost to the exit when a hand wrapped around my bare arm.

“He wrote that for you,” said a gruff voice I didn’t recognize. I turned to come face to face with Tristan Lyons. He was breathtakingly beautiful. Not like Lansing, who was almost pretty, but literally take your breath away gorgeous. I did suck in a breath as my mind wandered briefly to think he could be a model.

“I…I need to go,” I said, trying to tug my arm away from his grasp.

“You know, women would give their right arm for him to write them a song. They’d give more than their right arm.” He raised an eyebrow at me as his lips smirked with his sexual innuendo.

“I’m sure they would,” I bit, “but I’m not other women.”

“No, apparently to him, you’re not. He worked hard on that piece. He was worried you wouldn’t like it and that was what he cared about. And you can’t even face him to tell him it was good?”

“It was good. It was beautiful,” my voice faltered on my second statement. I searched behind me with a brief glance for Lansing. He seemed to have disappeared into the crowd and I added, “but I can’t stay with his fans. I’m not a groupie. I don’t just come and go.”

“Oh, I bet you’re good at the
come
-and-go, but…”

“You shouldn’t go,” another voice interrupted us. I twisted in Tristan’s grip to see Lansing standing behind me.

“Release her, Tristan,” Lansing demanded in a tone I hadn’t heard before. Tristan let go of me quickly, hoisting his hands up in an I-give-up way. Palms up, his face looked disgusted as he stepped back.

“You’re bed, man,” he said, then brushed past Lansing. “You did good,” he added before he melted into the crowd. While Lansing followed the direction of his band member, I took the opportunity to slip through the door and into the empty hall. I was headed for the elevator when he caught up to me.

“Lila, wait.”

I stopped before the elevator doors, banging on the up arrow, as if it would speed up the elevator’s arrival. I needed to get away from him before I gave into him. I knew I would. My body wanted to be close to him, but my head was fighting me.

He came toward me with such determination. I hadn’t predicted what happened next. His hands touched my cheeks and slid into my hair, tugging me forward to kiss him. His mouth took mine slowly, sucking at my lips, encouraging me to give into him. He continued in his tortuous feast of my mouth before pulling his own body against mine and devouring me further. His hands slipped further into my hair and he pressed me against him. My own hands gripped his lapel and tugged him toward me. We kissed like that for several moments, until I heard the ping of the lift.

I pulled back quickly and entered the elevator, repeating my beating of the button labeled 3. Lansing slipped into the lift with me and the door closed. I stepped back and he reached for the panel of numbers before he turned to me.

“Lila,” he said softly.

“I can’t,” my voice said weakly.

“Can’t what, Lila?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” He was standing in front of me. His hand dragged down my arm, not breaking physical contact with me. He clasped his fingers through mine. He pulled me toward him and then pressed me back into the elevator wall. Time seemed to be moving slowly as the lift crept to the third floor. His body covered mine as he held my hand, while his other arm pinned me in when he braced it on the wall beside my head.

Our eyes met and danced in circles. I couldn’t look at him. My body was on fire. My skin prickled with his nearness. I couldn’t think clearly, like smoke was fogging my brain.

“We need to talk.” He winced after he said the words.

“Actually, I’ll talk. You listen.” The hand beside my head played with my hair, twirling it around his finger. He was concentrating on the motion as he spoke. I noticed my bracelet tightly wrapped around his wrist.

“There’s been a bit of a misunderstanding between us,” he started, “so I want to clear the air on my part. I have not been dating Guinevere behind your back. I’m repeating again, that I am not and will not be with Guinie.” He narrowed his blue eyes in focus of my hair around his fingers.

“I know you’re big on a picture telling a story, so I’m sure you’ve made up some about the images of me, Tristan and those girls, but those are his girls, not mine,” his voice softened.

“I haven’t been with anyone since you, Lila. I don’t want to be with anyone, but you. You…you wrecked me. I didn’t see you coming, but you took me over.” He loosened his hold on my hair, and slid his hand to the base of my neck. He sighed heavily as he looked at me, soothingly rubbing his thumb on my nape.

“I can’t get you out of my head. Or my heart. I don’t want to. I’m being selfish because I miss you, Lila.  I need you. I know you need me, well need someone, and I want it to be me. Let me take care of you and Fleur. Let us take care of each other.” He was leaning into me, in my space like he often did. My breasts brushed his chest as I took a deep breath and I know he felt me. He closed his eyes.

“I don’t need a hero, Lansing. I don’t need someone to save me,” I said quietly, choking as I almost repeated my words from my conversation with Will.

“I’m no hero, Lila. I didn’t save Fleur or you. You saved me.” Both his hands met my neck and slid upward into my hair, holding the back of my skull.

“You. Saved. Me,” he emphasized again.

“I…” I didn’t get the chance to finish, as his mouth was on mine again. He kissed me hard.

When he pulled back, I attempted to speak again, but his mouth covered mine. I tried one more time and laughed against his lips, as he wouldn’t let me talk.

“Lansing,” I muttered against him, attempting to no avail to push him gently away from me. He reluctantly released me mouth, but continued to hold my neck.

“What are you doing?” I laughed.

“Kissing you senseless. I don’t want to talk anymore.” He leaned in to kiss me again, but I averted him by turning my head sideways. Something in my face must have warned him to stop the approach, because he did.

“What more can I tell you? What do you want to know?”

“The song.”

Lansing’s hands slid off my neck to caress down each shoulder. The dress was spaghetti strapped and he hooked a finger under each strap then held his hands steady.

“Lila, you aren’t a distraction. You aren’t here to make me forget. You make me feel what I’ve never felt before.”

He paused and sighed deeply, leaning forward to rest his forehead against mine.

“I might have been a bit closed off about the band, Guinie, and Arturo, because I didn’t want to bring them into the relationship. You’re new and fresh to me. I didn’t want to cloud it with all that turmoil, but it kept getting in the way, anyway. You close me out, too, though when I mentioned Guinie. I knew she was almost a non-topic for you.”

“The bracelet,” I said sharply.

“Guinie has one that looks the same, I know, but I didn’t give it to her. Arturo did. He said it represents the night…The Nights. Moon and stars. Plus it’s part of our logo. I liked the idea of it and of you wearing one from me. I’m your Night; you are my shining star.”

I had other things I wanted to know that weren’t related to us directly. It occurred to me that it was an awfully long elevator ride for a flight.

“The band,” I said softly.

“Tristan is the only one that knows what happened. I think it’s best to keep it that way. For now, we have the album started and the band has decided to stay together to work on the final three songs. I wrote “Beautiful Distraction” for you. It’s going on the album with my voice.” He smiled sheepishly before he continued, “I don’t want to be the lead singer, but it will be nice to showcase for once.”

“It was beautiful,” I spoke quietly.

“Really? Did you really like it?” his voice rose with excitement and a need for reassurance. His palms flattened under the straps on my shoulders and he gently wrapped them over me.

“I loved it,” I said in reply.

“I love you, Lila.”

I gasped. He couldn’t be serious, but his lips were on me again, tasting and teasing. He thirsted for my mouth and drank me up with his lip’s sweet caress over, and over, and over. I pulled back for much needed air and a splash of reason.

“You can’t love me,” I said.

“Why not?”

“I have Fleur.” It seemed obvious to me that having Fleur was a deal breaker.

“I love Fleur, too,” he said leaning toward me.

“I’m serious,” I said placing a hand on his chest inside his jacket.

“I’m serious, too,” he replied, his voice a bit demanding. “I love you, and Fleur. I want you both to live with me.”

“I can’t live with you,” I laughed.

“Why not? You already did,” He smirked. He was almost daring me to respond.

“Because you’re Lansing Lotte.” My lips slowly rose in a smile I couldn’t contain, as his face slowly recognized our first conversation.

“Yes, I am,” he said, “and I want you and Fleur to live with me. Stay with me, Lila. I miss you. I miss Fleur. I need you around me.”

“What about what I need?” I said almost as a whisper.

“Lila, whatever you want. Whatever you need. I promise to give it to you,” he sighed, resting his head against mine again.

My shoulders sagged. I wasn’t sure I could go back to the apartment I knew he slept in with Guinevere, and I knew my place was smaller than his, which didn’t work in his favor. Finally, the elevator stopped its slow ascent.

When I looked over Lansing’s shoulder, I realized we had long passed the third floor and the fifteenth. We seemed to be at the top of the building.

Lansing pulled back and looped his fingers through mine, as the doors opened and we entered a small hall. We faced a set of doors. Lansing opened them without a key. I suddenly stood inside the second penthouse suite of the building. It was vacant. There was no furniture anywhere.

“What’s going on here?”

“Lila, you’re a show-me kind of girl. So, I want to show you how much I want you and need you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This is our new apartment.” He paused as he stared at me. I blinked knowing there was no way I understood him.

“We can live here,” he said slowly, still holding my brown eyes captive with his. I walked past him to the extra-large windows and looked out over the Park below. It was a breath taking view.

“Here,” Lansing said, holding out his hand and he gave me a tour of the place. We’d already been standing in a living room, dining room combination with a large open kitchen behind us.  He showed me a room for Fleur, a room for music, and a photo studio for me. The last room he showed me had a large rug on the floor and tons of pillows all over it. A few candles lit the space. I looked at Lansing, inquisitively. My mouth twisted up in that smile I couldn’t fight.

“I need to show you,” his voice pleaded. I knew my body would give in.

She was hesitant, and believe it or not, I was nervous. I hadn’t really planned a seduction before. A romantic one, anyway. I was doing it again, coming on strong, but somehow I needed to do it that way, or I would lose Lila. She’d get stuck in her head again and like I said to her, I selfishly couldn’t let her go. She watched me as I let my suit jacket fall to the floor. I unbuttoned the cuffs of my shirt then tugged the dress shirt out of my pants. I had already loosened the tie as we walked on our tour. I reached for the back collar of my shirt, pulling the whole set over my head.

I heard her intake of breath and then her eyes fell to my arm.

“What did you do?” she whispered, as her shaky fingers delicately traced over my bicep.

I had gotten a tattoo. My first. It was a combination of flowers secured with a sword wrapped in a band around my left bicep. The flowers were lilies – fleur de lis – almost, and small flames were also woven with the bright design. It might have seemed feminine, but the flames diminished that. Finally, a star was at the tip of the sword and a crescent moon was on the hilt.

“It’s the moon. Me. Star. You. Flowers. For Fleur. We’re banded together with the strength of the sword, Lila.”

I stepped toward her. Her body shivered as I reached for the thin straps of her long dress and slipped a finger under each shoulder ribbon. Hooking my fingers, I slowly dragged the thin straps downward to rest loosely on her arm and my breath hitched.