Authors: Kristine Raymond,Andrea Michelle,Grace Augustine,Maryann Jordan,B. Maddox,J. M. Nash,Anne L. Parks
Tags: #Anthologies (Multiple Authors), #Holidays, #General, #Romance, #Box Set, #Anthology, #Fiction
When Sparks Fly (29 page)
Apart they are a mess, but together they are music.
Andrea Michelle breathes poetry and lyrics. She adores music of many genres and finds it inspirational and soothing. Her goal in writing is to make you feel. She doesn’t want you to just read her work, but experience it. She and her husband live in the boot of Louisiana with their three children and one furry child. A few of her favorite things are Pinot Noir, Pinterest, snowballs, Italian food and a warm bath – the place many stories are formed. She loves to connect with her readers so don’t hesitate to find her on various social media channels.
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by
Grace Augustine
Copyright © 2015 Grace Augustine
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, places, characters and incidents are purely the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to actual events, locations and/or persons living or deceased are purely coincidental. No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in print or electronic forms without express permission of the author.
This book is part of a collection entitled When Sparks Fly
ISBN-10: 1511642106
ISBN-13: 978-1511642101
Cover by B. Maddox
Cover photo courtesy of Sue Stordahl Kitchel
For all of the independent musicians out there who work so hard to be heard.
My heartfelt thanks are sent to this wonderful team of authors and friends: Kristine, Monica, MaryAnn, AL, Beth, JM, and Andrea who have made When Sparks Fly so much fun. Without your support and encouragement this collaboration wouldn’t have happened. I love you all dearly.
Sue Stordahl Kitchel, I’m blessed our paths have crossed again. Thank you for allowing me to use the beautiful sunset photograph you shot of one of your favorite places.
A special thank you to singer/songwriter, Lee Maddison, from the UK for creating Allison’s song… Crayon Butterflies. To purchase and download this lovely song, and any of Lee’s other tunes, please visit Lee’s website:
www.maddisonsthread.bandcamp.com
To our readers and listeners, thank you for supporting the works of independent artists all over the world.
‡Chapter One
“OH FOR GOD’S SAKE!”
Blake McIntyre looked at the microwave clock. 2 a.m. He threw open his apartment door and made his way across the hall to hopefully halt the drone that was now filling his ears. He wasn’t amused.
Countless times Blake banged on the door of the apartment across the hall. Thankfully there were only two apartments on this floor, his and that of his noisy neighbor, otherwise the entire floor would be awake.
The music continued. There was no way anyone could hear anything. The noise grew louder and louder as did Blake’s frustration.
Finally, he tried the door handle and cautiously proceeded into the room when the latch released. Blake didn’t want to scare his neighbor, he just wanted the music turned down to a decibel that he didn’t have to hear. Hell, he didn’t even know his neighbor.
Fully expecting a party in full swing, Blake was surprised when all he saw was a woman with her eyes closed. She sported headphones, not the two dollar kind, but professional ones. She sat on a barstool directly in front of him. She gracefully moved to the music she was playing. The music stopped long enough for her to write on the paper perched on a makeshift easel before she began again.
Blake quickly glanced around and noted how elegantly the apartment was furnished. He noted a drum set in the corner to the left of him and a cello sitting on its stand. A baby grand took up the majority of the living room. Then, this woman, oblivious to everything but her music, strumming on a guitar.
Okay, do I just back out quietly and go back to my room? I need to invest in industrial strength ear plugs if this keeps up!
“Hello?”
Blake yelled repeatedly to no avail. He finally walked over to where the woman sat and touched the elbow of her strumming arm. She jumped off her stool, ripped the headphones from her ears, and was ready to strike Blake with her guitar.
“What the hell? Who are you? What do you want?”
“Whoa, there, Mozart.”
Blake caught her arm in mid swing. It would have been a shame for her to damage the instrument she was wielding.
“What the hell do you mean, Mozart? He was a pianist. I’m calling the cops.”
Blake’s expression softened and he felt himself smirking at her comment. He released her arm, took a step backwards, and put his hands up in an I-surrender-don’t-shoot movement.
“If you would stop for just a moment. All I want is for you to stop this incessant noise so I can sleep. Night after night, or should I say early morning, I’ve put up with all I can put up with. I was fired from my job, I need to be at an interview at 8 am. I need more than four hours of sleep. Please, just tone it down.”
Blake turned to leave and heard a quiet sob. He knew he’d raised his voice louder than normal and was sure the tone was a little less than cheerful, but he didn’t think it warranted tears.
Oh, God, now what? Don’t do it. Don’t turn around.
He knew he was going to regret this. Blake turned around and saw tears streaming down this woman’s cheeks. He rolled his eyes.
Damn. See, I told you not to turn around.
“I’m sorry if what I said was offensive. Seriously, I do need to get some sleep.”
“No, I’m sorry if I was too loud. Music is the only way I can deal with my life at this point. It was a rough day. I’ll do my best to keep it down.”
Blake extended his hand to her, hoping it would at least calm her down and prove he wasn’t an ax murderer. There was no way in hell he would ask what was going on in her life to make her live in her music as she was doing. He didn’t want to open that can of worms, especially at this time of the morning.
“I’m Blake McIntyre. I live across the hall.”
“Renee Manelli.”
Renee took his outstretched hand and looked up at him.
Across the hall neighbor, huh?
“You’re Renee Manelli?”
Blake shook his head. Wow, Renee Manelli was his neighbor. He’d lived in this apartment building for five years and didn’t know anyone. He kept pretty much to himself. His work, until yesterday, had him traveling three weeks out of the month. He didn’t know anyone in the building and now to meet Renee Manelli. Incredible.
Renee Manelli was one of the fastest rising stars in the independent music scene in the city and she was living in the same building on the same floor.
“Yes, I’m Renee Manelli.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Manelli.”
Blake continued back pedaling toward the door that was wide open.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try to catch at least another couple hours sleep before I have to be out of here searching for work.”
“Are you sure I can’t fix some coffee or food? I mean, I did wake you up. It’s the least I can do.”
“No, that’s fine. I just want to sleep. I’ll take a rain check, though.”
Rain check? What the hell? McIntyre get outta here now before it’s too late.
“It’s very nice meeting you as well, Mr. McIntyre. I hope our paths cross again.”
Oh, honey, count on it!
Blake shut the door behind him and made his way back to his apartment, to his bed.
Just as he settled under the covers, Blake again heard music, only this time it was quiet, soft, almost lulling.
Blake’s sleep was ridden with images of the woman sitting on the stool. Renee Manelli. Long, dark, shoulder length hair framed her face. Her body swayed as she concentrated on the guitar riffs. Her booted foot tapped perfect time as she played. The over-sized headphones made her look like an alien.
He tossed and turned for the next couple hours, thinking all the while about his neighbor. Finally at 6 am Blake gave up the thoughts of ever going back to sleep and headed for the shower. Maybe that would wake him up, clear the fog that seemed to have overtaken his mind.
The hot water ran over Blake’s tanned, toned body. He stood with his back arched so the majority hit his hips. He stretched down, touching his toes. An audible groan escaped him.
If only I could stay here. If only Renee Manelli…
The shampoo bottle hit the floor of the shower. Blake groaned as he bent to pick up the bottle before the liquid found its way down the drain. The groan more for his rampant thoughts than the pain from bending down.
Renee Manelli could be the new object of his obsession without a problem. He thought of how silky her skin would feel lathered up…
As quickly as those thoughts came to him, Blake pushed them to the farthest corners and buried them. He didn’t need to be focusing on a woman at the moment.
What Blake needed was a job. Hopefully this one would be the perfect one. He didn’t mind not working, but when it came down to it, working and having money won every time. He really hated just sitting around doing nothing.
Blake slid open the glass shower door and grabbed the towel just to his right. He wiped down the inside of the door before stepping out onto the plush chocolate brown bathmat.
The room was filled with steam and a masculine scent that was purely Blake. The mirror above the sink was invisible with condensation.
Blake dried off and wrapped the wet towel around his hips. He took a swipe at the mirror with the blow dryer every now and again so he could see what he was doing.
Blake’s sister, Sharon, gave him such grief for using a blow dryer on his hair. In her eyes it wasn’t the manly thing to do. He chuckled as he remembered her words.
“If you dry it with your towel, all you’ll need is some paste, and voila!”
Yeah, paste, and voila!
Blake hated any hair product and the lesser of the evils for him was just a spritz of natural hair spray that he’d found at the vitamin market down the street.
Blake ran his fingers through his hair, used the hairspray, brushed his teeth, and headed toward his closet. He opted not to wear a suit and tie today, but a pair of khakis and a lime green tee that buttoned at the neck.
