Dare to Live Page 5

  “Maybe we shouldn’t go. I feel like the adults didn’t want us there. Raven kind of forced the invitation on them.”

  She pursed her red lips. “We’re going, even if I have to drag you. This is fate, girl. You meet a handsome guy and his family, get invited to handsome guy’s house to meet more of his family. So if you don’t hit it off with Kody, at least you’re out meeting more people. I wouldn’t mind finding a hunk like Kody. Maybe his triplet brothers will be with him.”

  Roxanne hadn’t dated much, either. She’d had a boyfriend for a brief time when we were in nursing school, but they’d broken off their relationship after she graduated. It had been her decision. She’d said he just wasn’t doing it for her.

  “Are you my agent for hot guys all of a sudden? And may I remind you I like men with dirty-blond hair, not jet black.” That trait hasn’t stopped you from thinking about hooking up with Kody.

  “Seriously?” she asked. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t date Kody?”

  “Okay. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, even with black hair.”

  She snorted. I giggled.

  Then she darted into my walk-in closet. “Let’s find something sexy for you to wear. If you’re going to be on stage, we have to give the audience the wow factor.”

  Again, I giggled. The wine was hitting me. So I set my glass on the nightstand. I had to pace myself. If I kept drinking, I would be a drunken mess before we even left the house.

  I toed off my boots. I always wore boots when I worked in the shop. My dad had taught Lowell and me safety around engines, tools, and made sure we knew how to protect ourselves. “So, Mack is coming home.” I crossed the room, digging my bare feet into the softness of the carpet.

  I didn’t get a response from Roxanne. Normally, when I brought up Mack, she had a barb or something to say, as though he wasn’t good for me.

  When I walked into my closet, she was pulling out sexy underwear from a built-in drawer. “You should wear this black ensemble.”

  I snatched the thong and lace bra from her. “I will choose my undergarments. Thank you. Did you hear what I said about Mack?”

  “Loud and clear.” Her long, painted red nails shined under the closet light. “You shouldn’t get serious with him.”

  I didn’t plan on getting serious with Mack. My life didn’t warrant a serious relationship. But I was a lady who liked sex, and I hadn’t been with a guy since Mack, and we had some serious sexual chemistry in bed.

  Roxanne pulled out a black miniskirt. “I know you like those badass biker dudes, but he’s not for you.”

  She thought I deserved better, and so had my mom, although I’d had no interest in Mack when my mom was alive. Even though she’d adored Mack, who had put on a facade in front of her, she’d thought his eyes wandered too much and that if I ever got serious with him, he would break my heart. I hadn’t agreed with her. With the crush Mack had had on me for so long, I probably would have broken his heart. Actually, I believed I had because right after we’d had sex, I told him it was a mistake. He’d wanted something more than a one-night stand, and I hadn’t. I would bet that was the reason he’d hightailed it out of town. Sure, he had his life on the race circuit, but at the time, he hadn’t been scheduled to leave for a week after we’d had sex.

  She examined the skirt. “Wear this.”

  “Are you trying to get me laid?” I teased. Kody popped in my head again.

  “Sure. I won’t deny it.”

  We both laughed.

  It was time to unwind for a night and forget about cancer, mutated genes, and anything else that would bring down our mood.

  Chapter 5

  Kody

  I sat at the bar at The Cave. The place was empty save for Mr. Robinson, who was stocking liquor bottles on the shelves and loading beer into the refrigerator. He’d purchased The Cave about five months prior and had changed up the venue. The club was no longer a teenybopper club like it had been when I was in high school. The former owner, Mr. Young, had had problems with the high school crowd fighting and getting too rowdy. Mr. Robinson had a different vision for the club. He was interested in finding the next big star for his new label, Jewel Records, which he’d started last year.

  But I wasn’t about to become the next big talent for Mr. Robinson. He didn’t deal with family, and since Kade and Mr. Robinson’s daughter, Lacey, were dating, I was considered family. Sure, he gave me advice when I asked, and had even gone so far as to list the record labels I could contact. I wasn’t looking for easy, anyway. My father had taught all us boys to work hard for what we wanted.

  The clang, clang, clang of liquor bottles sang a tune as Mr. Robinson stocked the back shelf behind the bar. “You look despondent. Are you worried about your mom?”

  I lifted my gaze from the rejection letter I’d been staring at for at least fifteen minutes, waiting for Jake to show up so we could prepare the stage for the night, do our sound checks, and tune the instruments. I could get started, but the letter kept me immobile.

  “I always worry about my mom, but no. She’s doing well. The CT scan revealed that one of the arteries in her heart had narrowed. So when she was playing with Raven, she overexerted herself to the point that caused a lack of oxygen to the heart. The bottom line—my mom needs to exercise more, take a baby aspirin daily, and lower her cholesterol.”

  He bent over to lift a case of beer then set it down on the counter next to the fridge.

  I banged my head on the bar. “I heard back from a few of the labels.”

  He ponied up to my end with deep lines surrounding his green eyes. He resembled Lacey in so many ways with his eye color and brown hair. But since I’d met Mr. Robinson, gray hairs had begun growing in his sideburns.

  He wiped the stainless bar top more out of habit since the bar was clean. “What’s their response?”

  I picked up one letter. “‘I’m sorry to inform you, blah, blah, blah, but we’re in the market for an edgy boy band.’ Are boy bands the in thing?”

  “Not necessarily. Each label wants something different. But in my opinion, I’ve always been successful with boy bands. In fact, our fan polls match our ticket sales at Jewel Records. Even when I owned the Eko label, boy bands were popular.”

  I’d jammed with Zeal on New Year’s Eve one year, and that experience had been fucking amazing—even more so since I had been playing alongside Vin, Zeal’s lead guitarist and one of my idols. If Vin had asked me to the join the band, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But I liked writing songs, and I was a one-man show. I played the guitar and sometimes the piano. I drew in a crowd at Rumors, Mr. Robinson’s other club in Boston, the same one my brother Kade managed. I had girls screaming my name. So I didn’t understand the rejection.

  He chuckled. “Don’t beat yourself up. Sometimes it takes years to get discovered. You just got to keep playing and writing songs.”

  I wasn’t sure how long I would wait to get discovered. Berklee might be the road to take. Or maybe I should consider my childhood dream to become an engineer or find a decent job, especially if I couldn’t shake open the creative side of my brain and get words down into some form of a song or two. My dad had been lenient, allowing us to find ourselves after high school. But I couldn’t keep living in our boathouse-turned-man-cave, now turned mini-apartment, forever. The little money I made from gigs at Rumors and helping Mr. Robinson at The Cave wasn’t exactly enough to rent an apartment or pay for all the other bills associated with living on my own. Even the nice savings I had in the bank would only go so far.

  “Will labels consider just my song writing?”

  He studied me for a long minute. “I thought you wanted to sing too?”

  I shrugged. “Being on stage is okay. I wouldn’t mind hearing my music come out of someone else’s mouth.” I was growing tired of girls jumping on stage and mauling me. I didn’t enjoy that part of gigs. Even when I was in high school, I hadn’t liked when girls stared at me or whispered about me. Out of Kade, Kross, Kelton, and me, K
elton was the attention hogger. He loved when girls drooled at him.

  Mr. Robinson mashed his lips into a thin line. “My advice is to try again, only this time, ask them to consider the song and not the singer. Some record producers will look past the voice if they like the song, but not all of them do that. Sometimes you need to be crystal clear.” He wiped the bar again. “My other piece of advice—if you want record producers to consider the song, then find someone who has a killer voice and do a demo CD or consider a band.” He went over to the sink.

  There was that word again—band.

  “Mr. Robinson, I know you have the family rule, but if I weren’t family, would you consider my music?” I’d never come out and asked him. I’d always been afraid of his answer until now. One more rejection wouldn’t sting that bad.

  He angled his head, the light over the bar bringing out his forty-something age.

  My pulse picked up. He was taking a long time to answer the question. Maybe his answer would cut deep.

  He frowned. “I’m sorry to have to say this. Your music doesn’t wow me. It’s too mainstream. What I mean by that is the brooding songs are a dime a dozen, and while those types of songs do sell, they all sound the same. There are a ton of Kodys out there. You have to differentiate yourself.”

  I stiffened. I felt as though he was dissing on Mandy more than me. I’d written most of my songs around how I felt about her passing and how I missed her. Yet, I could see some truth to what he was saying. I’d listened to many songs from singers and bands that spoke to breakups or sadness.

  Footsteps clobbered on the wood floor. “This world is in trouble if there are a ton of Kodys out there,” Jake said behind me.

  Mr. Robinson grinned as he checked his watch. “Everything okay at the house, Jake? You’re late.”

  Jake was renting a room from Mr. Robinson and helping at The Cave while he tried to get his own music off the ground. He’d been under his brother, JJ’s, shadow for too long. Not to mention they’d had a falling out. He wasn’t ready to talk about it, and I didn’t pry. I knew all too well that any problems, fights, or family business among my brothers and me wasn’t for anyone’s ears, either.

  Jake ducked under the bar top. “All good.” He stood next to Mr. Robinson, who was a head taller than Jake. “I’m late because I was talking to my dad. He sends his regards.”

  Mr. Robinson nodded. “You two get ready. We open the doors in an hour. I’ve got some paperwork to take care of. Ashley’s bartending tonight, so when she gets here, send her back to my office.” Mr. Robinson’s heavy footsteps padded across the club, around the stage, and through the doorway that led to his office.

  The Cave had been completely remodeled. The small stage was now larger and able to fit a band of five comfortably. The jukebox was gone. The wooden top of the bar had been replaced with stainless steel, and the atmosphere was more music-oriented. On the walls hung pictures of bands that Mr. Robinson had signed to his former label, Eko Records. The one area that hadn’t changed was the balcony. That area still had plush seating and a great view of the stage.

  Jake snatched a beer from the fridge. “You want a beer?”

  I tapped on my head. “Why not? It might get my juices flowing.” Writer’s block sucked. I swore someone had fried my brain cells while I’d been sleeping. For so long, the words had flowed like a raging river. Then in the last three months, I’d felt as though my brain had shut down.

  Jake twisted off the bottle cap. “Juices? Maybe Ms. Sharp can help unlock things for you.” He waggled his light-blond eyebrows, his green eyes swimming with mischief.

  I hadn’t even thought about Ms. Sharp in the last three days. My mind had been consumed with images of Jessie and what it would be like to nibble on her lips, her voluptuous breasts, or any part of her body. “Hey, are you still coming to my parents’ house tomorrow for the cookout?”

  He slid a bottle of beer down to me. “Do I get to meet that hot babe, Jessie, you were telling me about?”

  I took a long pull of my beer. I’d spilled my guts to him about how the woman had my stomach in knots. “If she comes.”

  Jake came around to hop onto the barstool next to me with his beer in hand. “Well, I hope she does show. You’ve been talking about her curvy body, and I would like to see if I agree.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You realize I don’t need your approval.”

  He placed blond strands of his hair behind his ear. “Maybe you don’t, but you might need a push.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He and I had met briefly that New Year’s Eve when Zeal played. At that time, I hadn’t gotten a chance to chat with Jake, but when he’d shown up at Rumors several months ago, he and I had just connected. We found we had similar interests. He’d almost gone to college to study engineering. His parents had allowed him to take time to decide what he wanted to do with his life. Most of all, Jake was a leader, which reminded me so much of Kade.

  He played with the label on his beer bottle. “Dude, you have to spread your wings with the chicks. You can’t keep mourning a dead girl. Since I met you, you’ve talked about Mandy constantly.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stiffened as I snarled. I’d shared with him what had happened to Mandy, but I hated his reference of “dead girl.” To me, that just sounded morbid, as if she’d never existed.

  He held up his hands. “I only speak the truth.”

  I had talked about Mandy, but only because it was the anniversary of her death. In spite of that, I had the urge to haul off and punch Jake, mainly because I was still stuck on a dead girl.

  “Let’s head south next weekend,” Jake said. “The change of scenery will help us both.”

  Maybe I needed to get out of town to awaken my muse. The beach sounded like a great place, and Jake and I could jam together like we’d been talking about. He was an awesome piano player and had a gravelly voice that reminded me of a cross between Chris Stapleton and John Legend. It was a weird combination since Chris was bluesy and John had a softer voice. Then it hit me. His voice with my songs might be a great marriage to catch the ear of a record producer. After all, Jake was trying to make it on his own without his Grammy-winning brother overshadowing him.

  “To your dad’s place on the coast of South Carolina?”

  He bobbed his head.

  “We could jam together on a song,” I said.

  “And hang out on the beach, scope out hot babes, and help my dad.”

  I didn’t have anything going on the next weekend. With open-mic night only scheduled once per month, Mr. Robinson wouldn’t need me at The Cave. “Don’t you have to bartend?”

  Jake was earning his keep in exchange for a room at Mr. Robinson’s house. “James is easy. But I’ll ask Ashley if she can pick up my shift next weekend.”

  “Sure. I’m in.” I had no problem swinging a hammer.

  He slapped me on the back. “Great.”

  An hour and a half later, I was sitting at a high-top table near the entrance, taking down names of those interested in performing for open-mic night. Mr. Robinson wanted names, phone numbers, the song each person would perform, and whether or not they needed a guitarist or someone to play an instrument while they sang.

  I had racked up a list of eighteen people so far, when a familiar face walked up to the table, swinging her wide hips and wearing a skimpy top that screamed at men to look at her large breasts. For a moment, I couldn’t look at Roxanne’s face. I was a pig and a moron and certainly not the gentleman my father raised.

  She waved her hand in front of me, laughing. “My eyes are up here.”

  I mentally slapped myself, my gaze traveling up to her brown eyes. “I’m sorry. Are you singing tonight?” It was best to keep the conversation moving in a different direction.

  “I’m not. Jessie is.”

  I reared back. “Jessie can sing?” I searched for the beautiful girl who had my insides on fire. “Where is she?”

  “Paying
the taxi driver. Why are you surprised? Nurses have talent other than taking care of patients.” Her tone was light, but I detected a hint of hurt in her voice.

  “Don’t take my surprise as anything but awe. Your friend is beautiful.” I couldn’t find anything else other than that to say, and I didn’t lie about things.

  Roxanne beamed. “I agree, and she deserves to show everyone here tonight how great a singer she is.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “She’s that good?” Man, my jeans were growing tighter by the minute, just imagining Jessie singing. “Well, I can’t wait to hear her. Does she play an instrument? And what song will she sing?” No sooner had I asked the questions, than Jessie strode up to Roxanne with flushed cheeks, a brilliant smile that would have knocked me to my knees if I’d been standing, and an outfit that screamed at every guy in the club to look at her long legs.

  My stomach went haywire, fluttering and twirling. When Jessie tucked a long strand of her hair behind her ear, the act alone was so darn sexy that my jeans tightened faster than a sponge filling up with water.

  Roxanne was speaking, but I wasn’t listening. All I could do was plan how I was going to rip off Jessie’s miniskirt. Better yet, I didn’t need to rip off anything. I just had to lift up her skirt, slow and easy. But then I couldn’t suck on her round, perfect breasts that were pushing out against the tight fabric of her blouse. Holy hell. Get your mind out of the gutter. I mentally banged my head against the wall until someone slapped me on the back.

  “Is there a problem here?” Jake asked.

  Roxanne sucked in a sharp breath as lines dented her smooth forehead. The woman was pretty, with her short hair pulled back by a headband.

  “Jake Trent,” Roxanne singsonged.

  “She’s had a crush on you forever,” Jessie added as her chocolate eyes flashed to Jake.

  Roxanne playfully swatted at Jessie. “Hush.”

  Laughter rumbled out of Jake’s chest. “So, are you both singing tonight?”

  “No. Just Jessie.” Roxanne flipped a thumb at her friend.