Breaking Lacy (Nick & Lacy Book 1) Page 20

  I hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything but my fight with Nick since leaving the house. I didn’t even want to be out there singing tonight, not when things weren’t right with him, the person I had come to treasure most above all others.

  “You okay?” asked Susan, from her seat in front of the dressing room mirror, where she blotted sweat from the back of her neck. “I’m so sorry, Lacy. I didn’t know he didn’t know. I never would have run my big mouth if-”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I blinked back the tears and made busy by grabbing a bottle of water from the small refrigerator behind the door. Taking a seat beside Susan in front of the mirror, I downed a swig as I gave my hair and make-up a distracted appraisal.

  “I just feel like shit for getting you guys into a fight.”

  “I still can’t believe you, of all people, are living with a guy,” piped in Alex, from his place on the shabby sofa against the wall behind us. Taking a bite of his candy bar, he shook his head in dumbfounded amusement over my ruse. “God, no wonder he gives me shitty looks when I bring you home. He thinks I’m trying to nab his girl.”

  Dorian, who leaned against the dressing room door drinking his own bottle of water and silently taking in the discussion, finally offered his take. “I’d be pissed if Susan was hanging out all night with other dudes. I’d be even more pissed if she told everyone I was her brother!”

  “Leave her alone, Dorian!” demanded Susan. “She feels bad enough.”

  “Nick and I aren’t together like that, guys,” I insisted in my own defense, though in the instant I said it, I knew it was time to stop lying to myself.

  My infatuation with Nick had grown beyond the realm of a simple crush. I was falling in love with him, which made the abhorrent scene tonight even more heartbreaking. I wanted to be with Nick. Knowing I hurt him tonight made my heart bleed with regret. Fearing things would never be the same between us had me near tears again, and I tried to blink them away.

  “Oh, Lacy, try not to worry about it,” cooed Susan, giving my shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “It’ll all be okay. Why don’t you call him before we have to go back on?”

  I sniffled back my sorrow and shook my head. “No. I need to talk to him face to face, not over the phone. And I’m not ready to face him yet.”

  Alex rose and picked up his guitar on the way to the door. “Susan’s right, Lacy,” he said, looking at his sister as though it pained him to make such an incredulous admission. “It’ll all work out. But for now, you need to perk up. Five minutes before we go back on.”

  Once Dorian and Alex left the dressing room, Susan turned to me, saw the glistening in my eyes, and pulled me into what I always imagined a sisterly embrace would feel like. “Things may seem screwed up right now, Lacy, but no matter how much you deny it, there’s something more going on between you two than either of you admit. And it’s worth more than one stupid fight over something this silly. Now that everything is out in the open don’t throw away this opportunity to change things.”

  Nick

  Chris had failed to mention the popularity of club Static. We stood in the line for nearly an hour before finally making it to the door, where two gruff bouncers carded patrons and strapped vinyl wristbands on the minors so they wouldn’t be able to order booze.

  “Tanya’s going to meet me here later. I knew once I told you what I heard you’d want to come check it out for yourself. I figure here’s as good a place as any for a date. Mark said the joint just opened a few months ago and that it’s the coolest hangout in town these days. He said they have the best live music of any club in the entire city,” said Chris, tossing in an apologetic frown for my sake. Minutes later, we were finally on our way inside after paying an exorbitant cover charge.

  The building itself had once been a bank. The current owner spared no expense with renovations. The inside had been completely gutted, and all the interior walls knocked down. The floor separating the first level from the basement had been partially removed, rendering the top floor a loft, with an elevator and a spiral staircase leading down to the lower level.

  The most striking feature of Static wasn’t its décor, but rather the lack thereof. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with mirrors. Instead of hardwood or tile, the floor was mirrored as well, though frosted to preserve a sense of modesty for the ladies. The mirrors, coupled with the throbbing strobe and laser lighting, made for a frenzied, chaotic atmosphere.

  The entrance opened onto the first-floor loft. Along one of the back walls was a long and busy bar manned by three young male bartenders. The clearing between the bar and the balustrade overlooking the lower level served as a small dance floor, with a few tables along the perimeter.

  “Jeeze, you can’t stir ’em with a spoon in this joint,” mumbled Chris, as we made our way toward the glass and metal banister to get a look down at the lower level. The strobe lights allowed enough subdued illumination to navigate the crowd, though the fog machines churned out a haze so thick that the intermittent lighting was of little help.

  We were halfway across the upper-level dance floor when the crowd below went wild with whistles and cheers. Hissing speakers crackled to life, and seconds later, the guitarist strummed the opening chords of a hard, throbbing rock song.

  I continuously stepped on feet as we waded our way across the darkened loft. Dancers bounced and jumped to the beat. One of them bumped into Chris, who spilled his drink on my arm.

  “Sorry, dude,” he half-yelled over the music. Just as the words left his mouth, the female lead singer belted into song with a throaty voice perfectly suited for the brash, alternative tune.

  “Mark said they were good.” Chris looked and sounded a little surprised. We had both been to enough clubs and bars during our four years of college to have had our fair share of disappointments when it came to live bands.

  A cursory perusal of the mirrored sub-level of Static revealed a large and packed rotating dance floor. Along the back wall, directly opposite the balcony, was the dais where the band performed. A young man whom I didn’t recognize played drums, while Alex stood off to the left sporting an electric guitar. Susan played bass. Then, with dread, I turned my attention to the female lead singer.

  Lacy’s hair had been pulled up into her usual ponytail when she left the house earlier. Now the strands fell loose and flowing down her back and over her shoulders. She’d been wearing a pair of her gray wool slacks and a pretty, pale-pink angora sweater the last time I saw her, looking classic and elegant as usual. Now, however, the faded and ratty jeans she wore were tighter than any I had ever seen her wear before, riding low to hug her slim waist and slender hips. The form-fitting black tee-shirt she wore now bared her firm midriff and accentuated the contours of her breasts. While girls like Claire, and even Susan, needed to wear skimpy tops and short skirts too look exciting, they could have been half-naked and still wouldn’t have looked as sexy as Lacy did at that moment.

  The crowd loved Lacy and her band. While the rotating dance floor spun in circles, the mirrored walls created the illusion of endless bodies in motion. At the end of the first song, the crowd on the densely packed space whistled and cheered until the next song started up. Even up on the balcony, where Chris and I still stood, those patrons who weren’t dancing were tapping their toes and bouncing their shoulders to the beat. Some of them must have been regulars, for I noticed a few mouthing the words as Lacy sang.

  Their music was as good as any group commonly heard on the radio stations. Whoever had written the songs—Alex, I presumed, for the style and lyrics were nothing like I’d ever heard Lacy produce—was a genius. The song-writing, coupled with Lacy’s exquisite voice, made Gridlock the embodiment of success just waiting to happen. For the first time since I’d begun my scheming to steal Lacy away from my undeserving little brother, I found myself plagued with the same insecurities he must have felt.

  Even if I did manage to win her heart, and by some fluke she did fall in love with me, it wo
uld be a bittersweet and short-lived triumph. She would leave me to pursue her musical ambitions, just as she had planned to leave Kevin, and I wouldn’t want to let her go any more than he did. And listening to her now, there was no doubt that all Lacy’s hopes and dreams would come true. Whether she decided to go after them alone, or as part of Alex’s band, it was still going to happen. The difference between Kevin and me was that I was willing to go on that journey with her, whereas Kevin hadn’t wanted her to take it at all. Neither Kevin nor I had changed in those regards either.

  “Damn!” said Chris, interrupting my troublesome thoughts. “I never realized Lacy was that hot!”

  “Shut the fuck up, man!” I snarled, shaking my head in disgust when I realized every guy in the building was probably thinking the exact same thing, and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it.

  “Sorry, dude. It’s just that she usually dresses like a librarian. I never noticed she has a decent rack.”

  I slapped Chris on the back of the head.

  “Ouch! What the fuck!”

  “That’s Lace you’re talking about, asshole. My Lace. Our Lace. Remember?”

  He rubbed the back of his head with a grimace. “It’s not like every guy in here ain’t thinking the same thing!”

  “Yeah, well you’re my friend. You’re not supposed to be one of them.”

  Chris mumbled a half-hearted apology, and then we both settled down with our elbows on the railing to watch Lacy and her group again.

  “Dude, I knew she was good and all, but I thought she was into all that sappy, girly fluff. I never would have pegged her as a rocker.”

  Chris was right. Lacy was a composer of instrumentals, of classic, timeless standards, of smooth jazz and romantic ballads. She was going to be the next Natalie Cole or Celine Dion. Yet, even singing music so different from that of her background, Lacy sounded perfect on stage. She was a born entertainer through and through, possessing a natural stage presence and versatility that left me in awe.

  But was this new facet of Lacy the real Lacy? Or was she selling out, just as Kevin predicted?

  No matter how selfish his motives for wanting to stand in Lacy’s way in her pursuits of a musical career, perhaps he had known all along that this would happen. Perhaps Grace and Jerry had known too and had been right to insist she wait. They all feared she would derail along the way, and sure enough, it was happening.

  And it was all my fault.

  No! I wasn’t going to feel guilty over any of this. I wasn’t going to take the credit—or the blame—for the role of Fate.

  “Have fun on your date, man. I’m outta here,” I said to Chris, as I turned to leave, unable to face the product of my own manipulations any longer.

  Lacy

  Avoiding Nick was futile, but I needed more time to put my thoughts in order before having to face him. Even though it was past two in the morning and he was usually already sleeping when I came home so late, just in case, instead of coming in through the front door, I sneaked in through the bedroom window.

  As I maneuvered my way through the window, I bopped my head and let out an involuntary yelp. Rubbing the sore spot and wincing at the touch, I paused half in, half out of the frame, listening for any signs that my raucous had awakened Nick or Chris. Satisfied with the dense silence, I finished climbing in and closed the window. Heaving a sigh of relief, I stood helplessly in the middle of the room with my face buried in my hands, trying to calm my racing heart.

  Each night after the club closed and we packed up for the night, I went back to Susan and Alex’s house to change into my own clothes before Alex brought me home. It wasn’t until after I kicked my leather loafers off and was about to unzip my slacks that I turned and saw I wasn’t alone.

  Nick switched on the bedside lamp. He shoved one hand back behind his head and held Boris with the other. His feet crossed at the ankles. Wearing his faded pair of jeans and the dark blue shirt I had given him for his birthday last year, he was a picture of cool nonchalance, staring back at me with a calm quiet that paralyzed me with sudden dread.

  “Nick.”

  He regarded me for a moment. “Lace.”

  Growing more disconcerted by the second under his assessing gaze, I fidgeted with the hem of my sweater and found it harder than I expected to meet his eyes.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Instead of answering my question, he nodded toward the window. “You’d make a shitty burglar.”

  I followed his gaze, relieved that he didn’t seem too upset about my sneaking in. Feeling for a knot on the crown of my head, I sat down on the opposite side of the bed from where he lay. “Tell me about it.”

  “Why were you sneaking in?”

  “Why are you waiting in here?” I retaliated.

  “I asked you first.”

  “No, I asked you first, and then you changed the subject.”

  His sigh was weary as he rolled over onto his side to face me with his head propped up on his fist. “You know why I’m in here, Lace. Please, don’t start playing games on top of all the lies and secrets.”

  Unable to bear the tortured hurt in his voice and in his eyes, I lowered my head. I didn’t know how to untangle the web of lies between us, but if I treasured my relationship with Nick at all, I had to try. Tracing imaginary lines over the navy-blue plaid comforter, I cleared my throat to begin.

  “I’m sorry I slapped you. It was hateful and disrespectful of me. I’ll understand if you’re upset and want me to leave now.” I paused for a few seconds to swallow the heartbreak down along with the lump in my throat. “I have plenty of money saved up so you wouldn’t need to worry about me sleeping in some alley. I know it’s a little ahead of schedule, but maybe I should just go ahead and leave now.”

  He lay so still and quiet for so long that I began to wonder if he intended to respond. When he finally did, his voice was soft but purposeful. “Do you want to leave?”

  No. The thought of leaving Nick, not just now, but even later like we planned, was an inevitability I didn’t want to face. But Nick didn’t need me in his life creating awkward moral dilemmas over his involvement with me. No matter what foolish, romantic notions I had for Nick, they were just that—foolish. The same kind of self-destructive feelings I had always thought so weak and imprudent of other young girls my age.

  I needed to get my priorities back on track. I needed to start focusing my energy on my musical career. It was becoming too difficult to do that with Nick in the picture. He confused and disoriented me, and made me want things I didn’t want to want.

  “I think I should go,” I confessed, my heart silently breaking over such a truth.

  His fingers found mine, bringing my hand up to his heart. “I think you should stay right where you are, just like we planned.” Tipping my chin up, forcing me to look at him, he added, “We had a plan when you came here, and we’re sticking to it.”

  “You had a plan,” I responded dryly.

  “That you agreed to.”

  “You didn’t give me much choice.”

  He smiled with what I had come to realize was genuine affection. “And I’m not giving you one now.” He scooted closer, lifting his hand to cup my cheek. “I want you to stay, Lace. And I am so, so sorry about the things I said tonight.”

  “I’m sorry too,” I choked out.

  “You have no reason to be sorry, but I do. Hurting you is the last thing in the world I would ever intentionally do. Please say you know that.”

  “I do know that. And I didn’t mean to hurt you either.”

  “Then why all the lies?”

  Preparing to tell him everything, I took a deep breath and lowered my head so he wouldn’t see my tears. “It’s just that from day one at school here, everyone knew I was living with you. There was vulgar gossip about you and me, about me being pregnant and a slut, and it fueled a lot of cruel pranks those first few weeks.”

  I went on to describe my first few weeks at my new school, and
the pitiless cruelty I had endured at the hand of my peers. “Susan was the first person—and only person since—who tried to befriend me. She had the idea that it would shut down all the crude and malicious rumors about you and me if we told everyone you were my brother. And it worked because no one has said or done anything nasty to me since.”

  “I’m sorry, Nick. I’m sorry I lied to you, and I’m sorry it hurt you to find out the way you did. It’s just that you have done so much for me and I didn’t want to burden you with my problems when there was nothing you could have done about it anyway.”

  “Nothing I could have…” His features twisted, horrified and incredulous. “Lace, I could have stopped it. I could’ve gone to the principal. To the school board. I could have staked out your locker! God,” he swore. “I thought we were closer than that. I thought you knew you could come to me with anything, especially something like that!”

  “I do know that now, but back then, when I first came here things were… different.”

  He was silent for a long moment. “Okay, I get it. I guess things have changed a lot, haven’t they?”

  “Yes, they have.”

  I knew it was naïve to believe I was as artful as I wished I could be in hiding my growing feelings for him. It was becoming harder to disguise that I was falling a little more in love with him every day, no matter how diligently I tried to hide it—and fight it. I suspected he was fighting a similar moral battle over how much he had grown to care for me. I was becoming a temptation to him that blood loyalty and honor were forcing him to fight. It was in his voice when he spoke to me, in his beautiful and mysterious dark eyes when he looked at me. It was in his gentle touch when he allowed himself to touch me. It was in every awkward silence rife with palpable tension and restraint, in every unspoken word we both fought so hard not to speak, knowing that once either one of us crossed that line, there could be no uncrossing it. It seemed neither one of us were willing to take the risk of ruining our growing bond by doing anything to change it.