A Voice to Love (Fallen Tuesday Book One) (A Brothers of Rock Novel) (13 page)

"This?" Amy
asked.

Luke leaned forward and
came down to Amy. He kissed her with steamy passion. With one hand on the bed
for balance, the other hand was free for exploring. Luke lifted Amy's shirt and
went straight to her breasts. His touch, even over her bra, had an instant
reaction to Amy's body. Amy touched Luke's straightened arm on the bed and felt
the definition of his bicep and tricep. Her body never felt so alive or engaged
before and Luke wasn't even touching her most sensitive area yet.

Luke's mouth slipped down
from Amy's toward her neck. His lips were soft yet commanding. The tip of his
tongue was stiff, exploring left to right, constantly moving, forcing Amy's
body into a gentle convulsion that threatened her to climax before anything was
actually happening. She caught herself squeezing her legs together very tight,
seeking any kind of release from the hot pressure Luke had created.

Down her neck and then up
to her ear, Luke never stopped. He never gave a hint of what he was doing or
what he wanted. He just did what he wanted. Amy succumbed to him. His lips
caressed her ear as his hand grazed down her stomach. He touched the top of her
pants and with the quick flick of his wrist, her pants were undone. Before Amy
could react to that, Luke's warm breath flooded her ear.

"I'm going to taste
you, Amy," he whispered. "Remember, tonight is about you. Relax and
enjoy."

His lips were gone and
everything sped up. Luke had both hands on Amy's pants, pulling with sexual
aggression, forcing them down her body. Her knees touched, trying to keep herself
together. Luke smiled because he knew Amy wouldn't resist him, she'd been
waiting for this as long as he had.

Luke's hands slid up and
he gently opened her legs. His hands made their way to her hips and he pulled
her panties off her body. Amy gripped the sheets and thought about her day. She
had worked all day and most of the night. She didn't feel...
ready
for
Luke to do what he intended, but it was too late. She watched with wide eyes
and racing heart as Luke began to enjoy her.

Luke was as passionate
there as he had been to her neck and her mouth. Amy's toes curled as her feet
stiffened, seeking her bedroom floor for leverage. She couldn't find the floor
and it gave her body the intense illusion that she was suspended in air, at
Luke's mercy.

Luke placed his hands to
the bed over Amy's hands. He squeezed her hands. He wanted to satisfy her with
his mouth. There was something almost romantic about it... Luke used his mouth
to create his name, his career. And now he used it to take all of Amy's worries
away.

As she felt herself
beginning to climax she wished she could fight it off. She didn't want this to
end. She didn't want Luke's perfect mouth to leave her body, but there was no fighting
off the surge of pleasure in Amy's body.

When Luke kissed his way
up her body, nuzzling her shirt up the best he could, Amy couldn't stop. The
aching felt so good. She needed Luke, she wanted more. He then hovered over her
body and in a quick move, he moved to his side and rolled Amy to her side. He
held her as she breathed heavily. He moved her hair out of her face, watching
her.

"That was
amazing," she whispered. "I didn't expect that."

"Of course
not," Luke said.

"I want you,
Luke."

"Soon," Luke
whispered. "But I want you to do something for me."

"Anything," Amy
said.

Her body was reeling.

"I'm sorry to say
this," Luke said, obviously unsure whether he should bring it up.

He moved a piece of hair
out of Amy's face. She knew what was coming before he spoke. She closed her
eyes and prepared for it.

"I want to know
about Denny."

(12)

Luke knew it wasn't the
right moment. How could it be the right moment? Amy had no pants or panties on.
Luke had no shirt on. They were having an unexpected beautiful night together
and it left Luke wanting so much more.

But first... he needed to
know what was causing Amy to be so afraid.

"How do you know
that name?" Amy asked.

Luke swallowed and said,
"I saw a message on your phone."

Amy pushed at Luke and
sat up. "You read my messages?"

“I was worried about
you.”

"You went through my
phone?"

"Not through your
phone, Amy," Luke clarified. "You got a message and your face turned
white. You looked ready to start shaking, like the night I met you."

"I don't care if
you're a rockstar," Amy said, "you don't go through someone's
phone."

"I pressed a
button," Luke said. "I saw a name and a message suggesting your
uncle's restaurant would be burned down. What do I do now?"

"You mind your own
business," Amy said. "I can't believe this."

Amy stormed from the bed.
Luke couldn’t help but check out the way her shirt barely covered her ass. Her
ass was perfect, just like the rest of her body. Luke sat up and waited for Amy
to turn.

"I'm sorry,"
Luke said. "I'm just trying to help you."

"You seem to always
be trying to help people," Amy said. "But they end up hurt."

The comment went straight
to Luke’s heart. He felt like hell, and it was because Amy was right.
Everything he thought was right turned out to be wrong.

"I didn't mean to
hurt you then," Luke said. "I'm not that kind of guy that snoops in a
woman's phone. I didn't snoop either. I saw a damn message, Amy. A threatening
one at that. I'm worried about you."

"I'm worried about
you too," Amy said. "Why don't you take care of yourself first, Luke.
Go make sure you can sing before you try saving someone else. Don't hide from
your problems through mine."

"Hide? You think I'm
hiding?"

Amy shook her head.
"I don't know what I'm thinking. I don't know enough about you to know, if
that makes sense. I'm going to take a shower. I'd like my apartment to be empty
when I get out."

"Amy, wait."

Luke jumped up and Amy
left the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

When he heard the sound
of the water start, he knew Amy wasn't coming back. Luke left the bedroom after
putting his shirt on. He stopped at the bathroom door and touched it with his
hand.

What can I do?

He wasn't sure what to
do. In his mind he thought he had been doing everything right. Getting through
the tour with Fallen Tuesday. Trying to protect Amy. Luke knew it was a fine
line between right and wrong and maybe that was the one thing that hurt the
most about it.

"Goodbye," Luke
whispered.

He left Amy's apartment,
fulfilling her wish. Although he may have been wrong, Luke knew now that the
right thing to do was to get back to Los Angeles and meet with Dr. Hornsbury.

Luke got into the rental
car and drove to the closest airport he could find. It was risky just walking
into a public place like that, but Luke had no choice. He wasn't going to call
Frank and make arrangements. He was going to do what felt right.

At the airport, Luke
managed to get a ticket to Chicago which would connect to a flight to Los
Angeles. There he could take a cab to his apartment and figure everything out
by morning. On both flights, Luke encountered Fallen Tuesday fans, and it gave
two lucky people two flights. On the first flight, a man knew exactly who Luke
was. He was in shock and talked about Fallen Tuesday the entire flight. On the
second flight, after almost half the flight was over, an older woman made the
connection that Luke was indeed the lead singer of her granddaughter's favorite
band. She was, in fact, on her way to visit her granddaughter, who was graduating
from college. Luke signed a piece of paper for the woman's granddaughter and
then took a picture with the grandmother.

As much as Luke hated to
admit it, that older woman saved him from a long flight of self loathing and
hating everything around him. Her random chatter and kindness kept Luke busy,
distracted, and by the time they landed in Los Angeles, he felt satisfied. The
city, even at night, felt like home. Stepping off the plane into the warmer
temperature came as a relief. He went into the airport and was quickly mobbed
by a small group of people. When Luke spotted a cab, he hurried into the car
and it sped away from the fans looking for him.

"Thanks for
this," Luke said.

"No problem,"
the driver said. "You're that singer, right?"

"Yeah."

"The one that can't
sing."

"I can sing,"
Luke said. "I just shouldn't."

"Where are we
going?"

Luke gave the address and
looked out the window. About twenty minutes later he was back to the place he
called home. To the place he and the rest of the guys moved with nothing more
than some guitars, drums, and dreams. They slept in cars - sometimes not their
own - and it’s where they truly became brothers. Luke thought about the rest of
the band. He wanted to call and say something, the same for Amy, but there were
no words, only actions at that point.

Once at his apartment,
Luke paid the cab driver, signed an autograph he didn't expect to sign, and
then went inside. It had been over three weeks since he'd been here last. The
smell was of dull air and a stale combination of all the foods his neighbors
had been cooking. The lights worked. The cable turned on. The fridge had an
expired carton of milk and three bottles of beer.

In the bedroom Luke
admired the guitars and amps, the piles of notebooks, CDs, and posters on the
walls. It looked more of a dorm room for a twenty year old than a successful
rockstar. Luke crashed to the bed and told himself he'd take a nap.

 When his eyes opened
again it was already morning. Luke sat up and his head hurt like he had been
drinking. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was and why. He looked
at his phone and saw nothing. Not a call. Not a text. Nothing.

Nobody had bothered to
even check on him. Not that he deserved it.

Luke went into the
kitchen and grabbed a glass of water and then dialed for Dr. Hornsbury. Dr.
Hornsbury already knew everything about the band and had planned on calling
Luke. With his schedule purposely cleared, Dr. Hornsbury wanted to see Luke as
soon as possible. Luke had to find food. He looked out the window and saw his
car sitting in the lot.

Less than an hour later,
Luke had ordered three bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches, ate two of them,
drank a bottle of orange juice, and a cup of coffee. He arrived to Dr.
Hornsbury's office and threw a bag at the doctor.

"Breakfast," he
said.

"This stuff will
kill you," Dr. Hornsbury said.

"So will singing,
right?"

Dr. Hornsbury laughed. He
put the bag of food down and took Luke into his office. He sat Luke down and
began to examine his neck and throat. He touched and looked, asking Luke to
tell him if it hurt when the pressure was applied. Dr. Hornsbury kept a stone
face, giving Luke no indication of the severity. His eyes were focused on
Luke’s potential condition and nothing else.

“Open up,” Dr. Hornsbury
said.

Luke made the
aaahhh
sound as Dr. Hornsbury checked his throat. The doctor nodded, the first
indication of something.

Dr. Hornsbury backed up
and took his exam gloves off.

“What’s the deal?”

“The deal, Luke, is that
you’re both lucky and stupid.”

“Lucky and stupid seems
to be my thing right now.” He didn’t smile, he was being serious. He considered
himself a very lucky man to have been able to pursue his musical dream and have
it pay off. Now he felt stupid for hiding something medical from his band.

“There are no polyps,”
Dr. Hornsbury said. “That’s good. Those can be nothing or they could end up
becoming cancer.”

“I take it that’s the
lucky part?”

Dr. Hornsbury nodded.
“That’s the lucky part. The stupid part was you went back out there and kept
singing like you did. Your throat is very swollen and pissed off at you, Luke.
You need to rest. When a doctor tells you to do that, you should listen. When
you cough up some blood after a show, that’s your body demanding it.”

“Well, you read the
news,” Luke said. “The tour is off now. I have nothing but time.”

“Time is good, but I need
you to relax and unwind a little. Let your body heal itself.”

“You’re not doing surgery
or anything?” Luke asked.

Dr. Hornsbury shook his
head. “There’s nothing to operate on. It’s your body wanting a break. You can
do some voice rehab if you’d like, but I personally think you should head home
and chill out, Luke. I know that’s probably not on the top of your list, which
is fine, but it’s what you need to do.”

“That’s it?” Luke asked.

“That’s it,” Dr.
Hornsbury said. “But I’m telling you right now, Luke. You’re walking a fine
line. You do something else to your throat and it could be over for good. I’m
talking permanent vocal chord damage. Right now, everything just looks annoyed.
Overworked. I can understand how your life has changed in the past year, but if
you don’t take care of yourself right now, your life will be changing again and
it won’t involve you getting on stage.”

The warning was clear.
Luke didn’t have to like it but he had to accept it.

“Let me give you a minute
to yourself,” Dr. Hornsbury said. “Then you can ask me anything you’d like.”

The doctor left the room
and Luke leaved forward with his elbows on his knees. He stared at the
blue-green carpet and thought about Fallen Tuesday and Amy. This was one hell
of a lucky break. When Luke first saw the blood when he coughed he thought that
was it. He thought the tour was going to be his first and last major tour.
Maybe that’s why he wanted to finish the tour, to be some kind of noble hero,
going out with the greatest fight of his life. However, what seemed honorable
was actually what Dr. Hornsbury had called it, stupid.

Luke took his phone from
his pocket and had to text Amy.

Can we talk?

Luke didn’t want to just
spill everything in a single text message. In the event that Amy really wanted
nothing to do with him he didn’t want her to feel obligated for anything. Luke
thought about sending texts the band but he decided to wait to call them. They
deserved a call.

Dr. Hornsbury came back
into the room carrying a chart. He placed it on his desk and turned to face
Luke.

“Thought your schedule
was cleared?” Luke asked.

“It is,” Dr. Hornsbury
said. “I wanted you to sit alone and think about this.”

“I dodged a bullet,
didn’t I?” Luke asked.

“Well… let’s say the
bullet nicked you. But if you keep stepping in the way of the guy with the
gun…”

“Okay,” Luke said, waving
his hand. “Enough with the metaphor shit. You’re not a writer.”

Dr. Hornsbury laughed. “I
just want the message to get across clearly to you.”

“Do I need to do
anything? Any medications? Drinks?”

“Again, it’s all about
rest right now. You can talk, like you are right now. No straining your voice.
No yelling. No screaming. No singing, Luke.”

“I got it,” Luke said.

“Rest for a month and
come back to me. We’ll work you back into singing again. I’ll do the best I
can.”

“How did this happen to
me? Will it happen again?”

“Those are tough
questions,” Dr. Hornsbury said. “The how part… too much at once. Young musician
gets a lucky break and goes out and does everything possible. Playing shows,
recording, promoting, touring. I’m sure your after show regimen wasn’t the
greatest either.”

Luke smiled. “I’m a
rockstar, doc.”

“I’d like to keep you a
rockstar,” Dr. Hornsbury said.

“So, what, no more
drinking after shows?”

“I didn’t say that,” Dr.
Hornsbury said. “Let’s let your voice heal before we do anything else.”

Luke pushed out of the
chair and shook the doctor’s hand. “I appreciate you seeing me today.”

“I appreciate you finally
listening.”

Luke swallowed another
piece of pride. He turned to leave and had his hand on the door handle when
something else came to him.

“Hey, doc, you mentioned
too much at once.”

“Yeah?”

“I played all those
Chasing Cross shows,” Luke said with his back to Dr. Hornsbury. “I would sing
the Fallen Tuesday set and then go backstage, take a drink, then get behind the
drum kit for Chasing Cross. I played and sang there, too. Those were nights
when I would warm up and play for over four hours a night.”

“Are you asking if
playing those extra shows did something to you?”

Luke nodded.

Dr. Hornsbury sighed.
“Would my answer really matter?”

Luke thought about it for
a second. “Thanks for seeing me, doc.”

He left the room. He had
most of the answers he needed right then.

The rest would come soon.

**

It was unusually cold
that morning as Amy walked through the backdoor of the restaurant. She was
bundled up tight, her cheeks and the tip of her nose burning from the cold air.
She needed to meet with Uncle Tom and finish up the order for the restaurant.
Then they were to work on the schedule for the next month. Amy had finally
converted Uncle Tom to a schedule that was not only printed but set a month in
advance. It allowed everyone to see their schedule and make changes amongst
themselves as needed. The old process involved a spiral bound notebook where
Uncle Tom desperately tried to write the schedule and keep tabs on it. On more
than one occasion, there were staff members missing because of miscommunication
between the staff and Uncle Tom.