Mended

CHAPTER 7 Blurred Lines

Ordinarily, I love staying in a hotel—a room to myself, privacy, a decent shower, and a comfortable bed. But by the time I exit the elevator a few hours later, I already miss having Ivy close. So I’m not only surprised but somewhat elated when I hit the lobby and see her sitting in a plush chair near the lounge. I didn’t realize she was coming with us—not that I mind. She’s on the phone, so I just nod a quick hello to her. She gives me a slight smile in return. She’s a knockout in a black minidress and flat sandals. Her hair is down and straight, with a few strands draping over her eyes. I wish I could push them aside so I could see the deep blue of her eyes. I find Nix and Garrett standing near the bar, deep in conversation. Leif doesn’t seem to be down here yet. The bar is open to the lobby, so as I walk up to them I catch the conversation.

“Who’s Phoebe?” Garrett asks Nix.

“That teacher I met at the party at the Pelican. She’s from San Francisco.”

“Sorry. No recollection of you hanging with any girl, especially a smart one.”

“Fuck off,” Nix snaps.

“What’s all the talk about a girl?” I ask them.

Garrett knocks shoulders with Nix. “This guy over here invited a chick to fly out and meet him, and she arrives tonight.”

“No shit. Are you serious?” I’m somewhat impressed that Nix cares about anyone enough to make an extra effort. It’s the first I’ve ever seen him do something like this.

“Fuck, I remember her now. She was the one wearing that slinky purple number with the really low-cut neck, wasn’t she?” Garrett makes a gesture with his fists on his chest and shakes them.

Nix scowls. “You’re so immature, Flynn. Get a life and get out of mine.”

Leif walks across the lobby wearing neatly pressed jeans and a starched button-down—slightly more dressed up than the rest of us—Ivy excluded, of course. Who the hell irons their jeans anyway? Ivy notices him and quickly gets off the phone, and they both approach us at the same time.

“Are you doing okay?” she asks Leif.

He nods. “Never better. I’m ready to let off some steam on the dance floor.”

“Are we going to a dance club?” she asks, looking my way.

“I’m not sure if it’s a dance club per se, but they must have a dance floor since there’s a band.”

She giggles. “Still don’t dance?”

I give a slight shake of my head and our eyes find each other and lock together for a moment. A flush passes over her face. Was her question a slip? This is the first acknowledgment she’s made out loud in front of others that she knows me from years ago. The softness in her voice and the look in her eyes tell me she remembers how she used to try to get me on the dance floor. Her only victory was her senior prom, where I danced every slow dance with her.

“Let’s hit it. I’m ready to party.” Leif steps in, oblivious to the connection Ivy and I are sharing.

When Garrett adds, “Yeah, let’s party like it’s 1999,” our stare falters and laughter overtakes all of us.

Outside, the night is warm and the sky is clear—a perfect summer evening that holds the prospect of a good time. This is just what we all need after the vigorous schedule we’ve been keeping. The waiting SUV approaches and Nix hops in the front seat while Garrett and Leif climb in the back, leaving the middle bench seat open. “Your carriage awaits,” I joke, bowing and motioning with my hand that she is next.

She laughs. “I wish!”

When she disappears into the vehicle, I can’t help but notice how perfect her ass looks. I step in and before I even settle in my seat, I feel it—the energy that zaps through my body whenever she’s close. The guys are talking about the city and what they plan on doing tomorrow, but I’m lost in my own thoughts. I glance down, unable to stop myself from looking at her. When I do, I find that her minidress is riding up so high I can see the lacy bottom of her boy shorts. I run my hands over my face—the sight of her skin mixed with the lace does things to my body that I have to make myself suppress. I’m also pretty sure I could see the crotch of her panties if it were light enough in here.

Leaning over, I whisper, “Don’t you think your dress is a bit short?”

She laughs and tucks into my side. Her warm breath on my neck makes me grip the seat to stop from running my hands between her thighs. “I like it that way. You never know when it will come in handy,” she purrs.

My jaw clenches and I shut up—I’m not used to hearing her talk like that, and I don’t trust what might come out of my mouth if I say anything else. I know she doesn’t mean it. I know she’s not that kind of girl. I also know I’d never let anything like that happen.

We arrive at the Black Dog later than I planned. It’s a bit off the beaten path, so I’m already expecting the hole-in-the-wall that we walk into. It’s dark, dingy, and smells like smoke, but jam-packed. We push our way through the pulsating throng of people and toward the bar. “Five shooters,” I mouth to the bartender. He nods and melts away into the cries of the other thirsty customers. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I look around. Bright lights from the neon signs on the wall illuminate the faces in the crowd, but I can’t locate the band. There is a floor above us that seems to be a loft of sorts with tables and chairs, and a floor directly below us where I can see the tops of people’s bopping heads, which tells me there’s a dance floor down there.

When the band starts playing, my ears go on instant alert so I can zero in on their sound. I hear a trumpet in the mix of a guitar and drums, and it reminds me of something my dad would appreciate. Anything out of the ordinary, anything that would bring attention and help speed a single up the charts. Something he would latch onto and study—that was just his thing.

“Is this the band you were telling me about earlier?” Nix asks.

I blink myself out of my thoughts. “Yeah. I think they call themselves Echo, and the trumpet player also plays keys. A buddy of mine told me I had to look them up. I figured I’d listen for myself when he said he was surprised they hadn’t made it bigger over the years.”

“Great concept. I really like the horns mixed in,” Nix comments.

“I need to hear a few more songs, but yeah, I agree.” It’s a memorable sound, and I’m glad I found the time to come listen. Soon the bartender returns with our drinks. I hand the shots around and let my fingers graze Ivy’s hand as I pass one to her. Her face remains stoic, but her body responds instantly. Her nipples harden and I can see them through her tight dress. Leaning over, I ask her, “Are you cold?” She smirks at me and in the most casual way she gives me the middle finger. I nearly drop my glass trying not to laugh. I’ve never seen her do that.

Leif raises his shot glass. “Here’s to everyone getting lucky tonight.”

I shake my head, knowing he’s out to get laid and hoping he stays sober enough to get it up. I order another round of shots adding beers as well and we all stand around shooting the shit. After a couple more drinks Leif turns toward a redheaded chick in a tight pink dress sitting at the bar and starts talking to her.

Garrett starts telling Ivy about the girl Nix has joining him. He seems oblivious to the tension between the two of us, but Nix has been homing in on it. “Everything okay with you and Ivy?” he mutters so she can’t hear.

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“That’s cool, but if you want to, I’m here to listen.”

I nod and take a swig of my beer. The four us stand huddled together at the bar, talking, listening to the band, and having a few more drinks. Before I know it Nix is jetting off to the airport to pick up the girl he’s flying in. I glance over at Leif and see that he seems pretty happy. The redhead is sitting on his lap with her hands all over him—doesn’t look like he’ll be dancing tonight. The band takes a break and dance music is piped in. Ivy raises her eyes and laughs. “See, we are at a dance club,” she says.

I can’t help but laugh back. She excuses herself to use the restroom and after ten minutes when she hasn’t returned, I grow concerned and move around to look for her.

Garrett and I check out the place and end up near the railing overlooking the dance floor, where I spot her immediately. The sheen of her tan legs, the sparkle of her earrings, and the glimmer of her sandals—she seems to shine under the beaming crosses of light reflected from above. She’s dancing with some dick in a white tank top whose hands are all over her ass. Tattoos cover his arms and multiple piercings ornament his ears. He just looks like trouble. My breathing reaches an alarming rate, my heart pounds, and my brain tries to maintain its cool as songs change from one to the next. We stay glued to the same spot, just watching her.

When the guy she’s dancing with pushes her up against a wall and grinds into her, I lose all control.

Garrett puts a hand on my shoulder just as my foot perches on the rung of the railing. “Let her handle it, Xander. She’s pushing him away.”

I ignore him and hop the rail in front of me, jumping the four feet between levels and crossing the floor to reach her. The asshole still hasn’t let go of her, even though she clearly wants him to. He’s about my build, but I know I could take him in a heartbeat. I grip both of his shoulders and pull him back, yanking his hands off her body.

“What the fuck?” he yells.

“Don’t touch her like that,” I growl, seething.

He looks at me, a little surprised, and flashes a mouth full of brilliant white teeth my way. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” is all he says. Then he turns and shuffles through the crowd without a word. That was easy enough.

I look into her eyes. “Are you okay?”

She nods but looks a little shaken.

“Come with me.” I take hold of her arm and step toward the stairs.

“Let go of me!” She tries to yank her arm away.

I flip around and lean close to whisper in her ear, “I will after I talk to you.” I slide back and my eyes narrow in on her.

“Fine,” she says, relenting. “But I could have handled him myself.”

“It didn’t look that way,” I mutter, again turning and leading her to the second floor, where I saw tables and chairs earlier. I indicate a chair with a dip of my chin and she sits. I do the same.

“I was just dancing with him. He owns the club, and besides, we were only talking.”

“I don’t care who he is. And it didn’t look like he was just talking. It looked more like he was trying to take you in the back room.”

“Even if he was, it’s my choice if I go. Not yours.”

I nod, because that’s all I can do. Fuck, I knew I couldn’t do this. I knew Ivy joining the band was something I wouldn’t be able to handle. I lean back in my chair and my gaze spears her, but words escape me. Fuck, I want her to choose me.

“What do you want from me?” she asks, with more pain in her voice than I’ve ever heard. I want to say you, but first it’s time to come clean.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Ivy, I want to explain everything to you. I want you to listen and really think about what I’m going to tell you.” I’m nervous as hell about telling her the truth, because if she doesn’t believe me it could undo the relationship we’ve built in the short time we’ve been together on tour. And if she does believe me but doesn’t care—well, that’s what scares the shit out of me the most.

She’s fidgeting. First clasping her hands together, then moving the candle around in the middle of the table. She blows it out, then looks at me. “Xander, I don’t need the dramatics and I really don’t need to talk about you and Tessa, or for that matter, you and Amy or any other ‘friends’ from that circle.” She air quotes the word friends and I know seeing Amy with me must have stung, but it wasn’t like that. It’s not like it carried on from high school to now. We met back up years after high school, and it was more of a convenience than anything else for the both of us.

I take her chin in my hand, and even after all the alcohol her eyes are crystal clear and piercing. I take a deep breath and go for it. “That’s just it. It wasn’t what you thought. That night we were supposed to meet at my grandparents’ . . .” The music suddenly stops and the lights turn on, cutting off my words. There’s a commotion from below and I stand up and look downstairs to see what’s going on.

“Stay here!” I tell Ivy.

Her eyes flip to mine. “What’s the matter?”

“Just stay here. Leif must have pissed off the wrong person.”

The stairs are a few feet away and I take them two at a time. When I reach the bottom, three brutish dudes, each weighing at least two hundred seventy pounds, approach me and clutch my arms, dragging me into the back storage room.

“What the fuck?” I yell.

They stop just inside the door, and I look around to see where I am. The room is lined with boxes, some tossed, some stacked, some filled with empty liquor bottles—it’s a fucking mess.

The brute with a studded black leather belt cinching his jeans stands in front of me and smiles. He’s missing a tooth and another one is capped in gold.

“What the fuck?” I yell again, trying to break away, but I can’t.

“You need to learn some manners,” he hisses.

I swallow hard and take small breaths as the two of them hold me and Missing Tooth swings at me. His fists are like sledgehammers as they hit me. My face. My chest. My stomach—fuck, that hurt.

“Leave your hands off a guy when he’s making his move on a chick. Got it?”

“Who are you?” I ask, just fucking curious as to why an owner feels the need to sic his bulldogs on patrons of his bar.

“The question is who do you think you are?” he grunts.

I don’t answer but instead spit on the ground. Probably not the best idea. The bald guy punches me one more time in the gut. With a murky laugh, he says, “Get him out of here” to the guys holding me.

It happens in unison. They both tug my arms and drag me back into the bar. Before they drop their hold, the asshole with the lip piercing says, “You heard him. Get the fuck out of here and don’t ever come back.”

My eyes swivel around, looking for Ivy, and I make a move to head back up the stairs. I’ve decided to keep my mouth shut not because I’m worried about what they might do to me but because I need to find Ivy.

“I said get out,” one of them growls as the other moves to stand next to him.

“One on one, dude—just you and me,” I hiss back.

“I don’t think so. The owner wants you out and I hope you got his message. Oh and he already removed that hot piece of ass himself before he ran into your posse.”

I try not to let him see me flinch. He motions to the bar, where Leif is getting the shit kicked out of him by some other dirtbag who probably weighs twice as much as him. People near the bar are scurrying out of his way.

I hear the dirtbag scream, “Tell your friend she might want to think twice before being a cock tease again.”

Breathe, I tell myself. I need to find Ivy, and the only way to do that is to stay calm and get the fuck out of here.

I put my hands up in surrender, though it kills me not to kick the shit out of these guys. “I’m leaving. Call your friend off mine and we’ll get out of here.”

The one with the dark hair that flops in his eyes smiles, and I want to rip his teeth out of his mouth. He whistles and the dirtbag looks up. He slices his finger across his neck and eyes me, pushing me to the door. I turn and just as I approach Leif, the dirtbag shoves him at me. “Don’t forget this piece of shit.”

“Fuck. We can’t just leave,” Leif coughs out.

“Shut up. Now,” I hiss under my breath and exit the door with Leif by my side.

“Xander, what’s going on?” Garrett yells to me from just outside the door.

My eyes search for Ivy as the fury builds within me. If she’s not out here I’m going to kill those bastards. When Garrett jolts toward me to grab Leif, I spot her sitting on the curb. Rushing over, I jump in front of her as cars honk for me to get out of their way. I take her hands, pull her up, and move us to the sidewalk as my eyes scan her from head to toe. “Did they hurt you?”

“N-o-o,” she stammers.

“Are you sure?” I ask, caressing her cheek.

She looks at me and her fingers touch my lip. “I should be asking you that question,” she says with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

I pull her to me and tuck her head into my shoulder. “What are you sorry for, baby?” I ask.

“I shouldn’t have said yes to dancing with that asshole,” she cries.

“Ivy, are you all right?” Leif calls out.

Hearing Leif’s voice, she pulls away from me and turns around. Running to him, she takes his face in her hands. “Why did you go back in after they asked us to leave?”

Even though he’s bleeding and Garrett’s holding him up, he manages to babble, “Because I had a chick waiting for me.”

She shoves his shoulder. “You’re a dumbass.”

He laughs. “Yeah, you’re right, but one minute some hot piece of ass has her hands in my pants and the next I’m getting the shit kicked out of me. Talk about a cock block,” he says, looking down at his open zipper.

“You okay?” I ask, surveying him for anything more than superficial wounds.

“I was better with that chick’s hand wrapped around my dick.”

“Leif, you’re so drunk. Are you sure you’re okay?” Ivy asks, placing his other arm over her shoulder.

His tone sobers instantly at the sound of concern in her voice. “Yes, I’m fine. What happened, anyway?”

She’s suddenly more composed, wiped clean of emotion. She’s the same resilient, undaunted girl she always was. She takes his arm over her shoulder and tells him about the guy she was dancing with. I don’t need to relive it, so I turn away and call the driver. “Yeah, Scott, we’re ready to get out of here.”

Every inch of me is tense and the pressure in my chest keeps increasing. It’s eight thirty in the morning and I’m standing outside her door. I didn’t sleep all night. I got up way too early and went for a run in a useless attempt to push thoughts of her aside, but I couldn’t—I have to talk to her. When I knock she doesn’t answer, so I keep pounding, louder and louder. She finally cracks the door open, leaving the chain on it.

“Xander, what’s going on?” she asks in a low croak.

“I need to talk to you.”

“It’s a little early.”

“Just get dressed and meet me downstairs in the coffee bar.”

“Fine, give me thirty minutes.” She huffs loudly and slams the door.

Her favorite drink was always a vanilla latte, so I take a chance and order her one. I grab myself a coffee and down a red-eye. Leaning over the railing, I think about us and wonder how different things might have been if I’d told her the truth way back when. The line for coffee grows as the room starts to fill with people, but I spot her as soon as she enters the atrium. She looks incredible—white shorts, a tight red tank top that hugs her body in just the right way, and some kind of black wedge sandals. The sight of her makes my pulse race so fast that my fingers are trembling.

She enters the coffee bar just as I turn around. Spotting me, she walks slowly. Her gaze is fixed on mine and for a moment her face is soft, calm even, but the closer she gets the more unflappable she becomes. When I reach out to offer her the latte, she smiles and takes it.

“Vanilla,” I tell her as I run a nervous hand through my hair.

“You remembered,” she says with the first genuine smile I’ve seen cross her face.

“How could I forget? We drank our way through late nights and early mornings with them.”

“Do you still drink them?”

“No. I changed to regular coffee. Couldn’t take the sweetness after a while.”

Her fingers touch my lip, and my body comes alive. “Does it hurt?”

I cock my head and press back my smile. “No. Not at all.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, again I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have danced with that asshole.”

“It’s worth a lot.” After a few seconds of silence, I add, “I checked on Leif and he’s actually fine.”

“I know. I checked on him too.” She clears her throat and the easy back-and-forth of our conversation is over. She takes a sip of her latte and asks, “What did you want to talk to me about?”

My brain is warring with my lips to keep me from leaning down and kissing her as she licks the excess froth from her mouth.

“Xander?”

I lose myself for a moment, but the softness in her voice brings me back. “I actually want to take you someplace.”

“You mean the band?” she asks.

“No. Just you and me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ve told you this a few times.”

“I won’t talk about anything you don’t want to. Just come with me. I promise it’s a place you’ll love.”

She wavers and takes a deep breath. “Fine. But only because I’m dressed and have nothing else to do. And you’re buying me a muffin first.”

I laugh. “Ah. I can definitely do that.”

Last night another wall came down between us, and although Ivy is still guarded, she actually seems to be warming up to me. My plan was to talk to her after I took her out for the day, but now that I’ve promised not to talk about the past, I’ll just have to take the conversations as they come. I already believe she’s who I need, but I just need to convince her I’m who she needs. I wanted to take her someplace I know we’ll both enjoy.

The sign reads: OHIO HISTORICAL MARKER—BIRTHPLACE OF ROCK ’N’ ROLL. From afar, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame building is truly stunning. Ivy’s face lights up when she sees it.

Pointing to it, she says, “Look, Xander, it looks like the pictures of the Louvre you sent me.”

And it does. The building is made up of geometric shapes resembling triangles that seem to shadow the lake. And although Ivy’s enthusiasm puts the biggest smile on my face, it’s the sound of her voice that melts my heart—the way she just said, “Look, Xander.”

As we exit the cab I know without a doubt . . . I’m still in love with this girl. And nothing can sour my mood. We enter the building. “Where to first?” I ask her.

She’s studying the map and points to a small red dot. “Right here.”

I laugh. “Could you be more specific?”

“The Beatles exhibit. I really want to see John Lennon’s acoustic guitar.”

“The Beatles it is.” I take her hand without thinking and lead her to the exhibit she selected.

Morning stretches into afternoon as we pass from Metallica to the Rolling Stones memorabilia. We talk about each artifact, spending the most time in the Jimi Hendrix forum.

When we get to the Janis Joplin area, Ivy studies the jewelry pieces on display. I lean against the glass and just watch her eyes twinkle. “Hey, guess what River gave Dahlia as a wedding present.”

She looks up at me and bites her lip. “What?”

The heat I’ve felt between us all day—the ease of two people having a great time—seems to flare. “The gold bangles that Grandpa gave Grandma. Remember, the ones Janis wore all the time and gave to my grandfather when she found out Grandma was mad at him.”

“I remember them. That was a really sweet gift.”

For a moment sadness crosses her features, but it quickly passes.

“Let’s move on. The Who or Michael Jackson?” I ask.

“You know, I’m pretty tired. Late night, early morning. What do you say we call it a day?”

“Sure,” I say, a little disappointed that our day is already ending. “Let’s just slip in the movie theater and watch a few minutes of Dick Clark’s American Bandstand.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Come on, you have to admit it. Best damn television idea second to none. It was reality TV before reality TV.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Five minutes.”

Boarding the escalator, we head to the second floor and enter the dark theater. We take seats near the back and watch as eager teenagers try to get the attention of a very young Dick Clark. We watch the show and I lean closer toward her. She stays put and never glances over toward me. I rest my hand on the arm of the chair and force my eyes to the screen. My breathing takes effort and I hear my own heart pounding. Heat rushes through me and my boldness comes alive in the darkness.

“Ivy,” I whisper.

She swallows and meets my gaze. “Shh . . .”

The way she turns is slow and sensual and it completely steals my breath away. I lean back a little in my chair and give her another glance. I feel like a kid again in the movie theater, wanting to make out with my girl, and the tent in the middle of my jeans is a dead giveaway. What the hell is wrong with me? I reach over and drop my hand to the bare skin of her leg. She stiffens.

“Ivy,” I whisper again.

She turns her head and I focus on her face, her eyes. I stare at her lips. I imagine sliding my tongue down the smooth curve of her arm and shoulder. I sit here as long as I can until I can’t take another minute of wanting her. I lean over and pull her face toward mine. I don’t think she’s breathing. I stop short of her lips and just hold her close to me. I feel the rush of adrenaline as my need for her spikes with every passing second.

Then, just as I brush my lips over hers, she stands up. “I can’t. Please don’t do that again. I want to be your friend, but that’s all,” she says and rushes out of the theater. I run after her, but before I can catch her, she hops in a cab and is gone. And just like that, so is our perfect day.