All Smoke No Fire (7 page)

A couple young assholes sandwiched her between them, grinning. “Dance, girl. We’ll keep you upright.” They ground their hips against her.

Dax stepped to the one at her front, who now rubbed his chest against hers. “Back the fuck off, or you’re gonna be eatin’ those teeth.”

The kid stumbled a few steps back, but his friend shoved at Dax. “Let her be. It’s Mardi Gras.”

Marilou’s eyes flickered and she sidestepped, nearly tripping. “Whoa, baby.” Her plastic cup of hurricane went flying.

Dax pushed the second asshole out of the way and grasped Marilou from behind, holding her upright as he walked her slowly toward the exit. “Let’s take a break, kitten.”

She lifted her hand and stroked his hair. “Am I still your kitten, even if I’m kinda sloppy drunk?”

He chuckled. “You’re still my kitten.” He’d never heard tell of her having a drinking problem, had never seen anything about it when he did online research on her. Was it just coming home on this big party day that had her over-imbibing?

“Uh oh.” She put her hand on her stomach.

“Uh oh.” He lifted her and ran out to the street and around the corner just in time for her to bend over and lose the last thirty-dollars’ worth of liquor she’d consumed down into the gutter. “Aw, kitten. You okay?” He held her hair back, looking around to get his bearings. Best option would be to carry her back to her place.

She let go with a little more.

“Let me know when you’re done and we’ll go home.”

“Home?” She straightened and wobbled as she looked up into his eyes. “This is my home now. New Orleans.”

“Yeah. It is.” He could go straight south a few blocks, then turn—

“The last time I was home for Mardi Gras, it was bad.” She shook her head. “Three years ago, I got dumped.”

That explained a lot. “He was a fool.” He meant it and wanted to punch the asshole’s lights out.

“Bradley. He used me, you know what I mean?” She brushed her dark hair back off her face. “Then he left me.”

“You didn’t deserve that, Marilou.” She looked a little steadier on her feet.

“I thought he loved me back.” Now the tears came.

“C’mon. Let’s walk and talk.” He slung an arm across her back, stabilizing her as he got her to put one foot in front of the other. Passing a hot dog wagon, he grabbed a handful of napkins and gave them to her. Why did hearing about her being in love with someone else damn near make his heart stop beating?

Slowly the tears ebbed, she mopped up, and stiffened her spine in an effort to walk more steady. At her condo, he punched in the code she’d shared with him and the door popped open.

“Dax.” She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. “I don’t want to complicate this. And I don’t want to seem needy and pathetic.”

A group of partiers stumbled down the street toward them, and he backed her into her foyer, closing the door behind him. “You don’t seem that way at all. You seem over-served and in need of some food and a good, long sleep.”

“You’re so frickin’ sweet.” Her lips trembled. “I’m very attracted to you.” Her words came out quiet and sure.

His heart did a double-kick. “And I’m just as attracted to you.”

She smiled, then it turned into a frown. “Need to get to the bathroom quick.”

****

Marilou woke and turned her head to look at the digital numbers on the clock radio next to her bed. Pain shot through her brain and throbbed behind her eyeballs. Nine in the morning. “Damn.” Slowly turning her head the other way, she saw Dax lying next to her, his back turned toward her. Then the events of the night flooded back on her. What had she done?

Easing the covers off, she looked down at her naked body, slung her legs over the side of the bed, then stood. The floor beneath her tilted and she reached down to steady herself. Tiptoeing to the bathroom, she closed the door, turned on the light, then stepped in the shower and let it hit her cold.

It didn’t help the headache one bit. She turned the water to warm and let it cascade down her hair, down her body. Had she really thrown up on Bourbon Street? Murky images of the previous night played like a bad roadtrip movie. “Please don’t let anyone have recognized me.” She could just imagine pictures and video of her hurling ending up online.

Before they went out the night before, when they sat eating at the table, Dax had asked questions about her manager, and it brought back every fear, every paranoia she’d harbored over the last three years since Bradley walked away from her. Mardi Gras night, he’d said goodbye and just left her at a bar. Bastard.

Dax was a different person than Bradley. Both of them were great musicians, great songwriters, and would someday make a big name for themselves in country music. But Dax was a good guy, grounded and honest and humble.

She stepped out of the shower and toweled off. So, why had she gone all crazy drunk bitch last night? Issues. She definitely had issues and she needed to make changes. She hadn’t seen her family in so long, they’d stopped contacting her, and that just wasn’t right.

A quick knock sounded on the door. “You okay?” Dax’s voice sounded full of concern.

“I’m good.” She wrapped the towel around her torso and opened the door, grabbing another one to wrap around her hair. “We’ve got to be downtown in less than an hour, so let’s get moving.” Turning to brush past him, she kept her gaze down, embarrassed about her behavior the night before.

“Hey.” He took her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Are you okay?” His gaze landed on hers, soft and caring.

Her heart thumped a couple times. Had she really told him she was attracted to him? What a dopey thing to say. “I’m hungover a bunch, and even more embarrassed.”

One side of his mouth curved up. “Don’t be. Happens to everyone.”

She wanted to kiss him, but she hadn’t brushed her teeth yet. “Thanks. I’ll be looking forward to you taking the next turn being the drunken barfer.”

He chuckled. “We’ll put that on our to-do list.” Turning her toward the hallway, he patted her butt. “Let me shower and I’ll cook something to settle your stomach and make your head stop pounding.”

“Sounds like a miracle breakfast.”

Fifty minutes later, Marilou and Dax walked into the reception area of Delroy North’s offices in downtown New Orleans. His receptionist, a very young, very cute blonde, smiled bright as the noonday sun at Dax, ignoring Marilou completely. When he grinned back, Marilou had the urge to reach over the counter and smack her.

Dax’s breakfast had been delicious, but her head still throbbed. Marilou cleared her throat. “Marilou Roselle to see Delroy North.”

The girl’s gaze flew to Marilou’s. “Of course, Ms. Roselle. He’s waiting for you. Go right in.”

Marilou pulled Dax aside. “Wait here for a few minutes. I want to talk about a couple issues before I bring you in to meet him.”

“Sure.” He winked. “I’m not goin’ nowhere.”

She loved that he thought to reassure her, especially after the way she’d admitted, drunkenly, that she’d been dumped on Mardi Gras. Was that her only excuse for getting stupid-drunk the night before? No, there was more. Much more.

“It won’t be long, Dax.” Glancing at the receptionist, she leaned closer to him. “You think you’ll be safe?” She whispered the words.

He smirked. “I promise, my virtue will be intact, ma’am.”

She smiled as she wandered past the closed doors of Delroy’s staff to the big office at the end of the hall. “Delroy.”

The tall, graying man came around his desk with his arms out. “There’s my lady.” They shared a hug and he shut the door. “Sit. Tell me what’s new.” He brought her a bottle of water and relaxed in his office chair.

They talked about a few things, then she brought up Dax. She’d purposely withheld information about her new “find” from him until this second so he wouldn’t have time to come up with his usual fatherly sermon for her.

Delroy listened with a blank face, then puffed out a long breath. “Didn’t you learn from the last one?”

Her lungs froze for a few seconds. She’d known he’d do this, so why was she still so hurt? “Dax is different. He’s a songwriter, and he—”

“You said all that.” Her manager held up a hand. “But you thought Bradley was
different
too, didn’t you?” He stood and paced to the side of the desk. “And look at what happened?” Placing his hands on the desk, he looked into her eyes. “You’ve been a recluse for three years, you’ve been working your ass off with no time off, and you haven’t seen your family since I don’t know when.”

She knew exactly when. Three years ago, she’d brought Bradley with her to Cajun country for three days’ vacation before the two of them headed to New Orleans to play together in a free outdoor concert on Mardi Gras day. He’d met her family, whom he’d charmed like a cobra, then the next day, after the concert, he’d dumped her.

For months, her family kept asking what had happened, what went wrong, almost accusing Marilou of screwing up the relationship. All she’d wanted to do was crawl back home, into the arms of her family, but she didn’t feel she could go there for solace.

“You have nothing to say?” Delroy frowned.

Behind her throbbing eyeballs, her hungover brain kicked into high gear. “Why the hell is my personal business your concern?” She’d spoken the words much too loud, but once they were out, she couldn’t stop. “Your job is to manage my career.” She was shouting now and stood to face him straight on. “Not my personal life.”

“Damn it, Mari, your personal life affects your career.” He shouted right back at her, rising to his full height, his hands in fists. “Why the hell don’t you see that?”

“How does not seeing my family affect my singing?” Her voice rose in pitch as she flailed one hand wildly.

“You have no support, lady.” His words came out loud and clipped. “You think that bringing another one of these puppies home with you to train is a good idea?” He gestured toward where Dax waited in the lobby. “Fuck it. This is number three. First that Owen shit, then Bradley, now Dexter? Or whatever the fuck his name is.” His voice echoed off the ceiling.

Delroy pointed a finger right in her face. “You’re thinking ‘This one won’t turn on me,’ but they always do.” He shoved a book off his desk and it hit the floor with a bang. “Then you hole up in your little bus and take piddly little gigs across the midwest when you should be performing in arenas.”

“My choice of music venue has nothing to do with—” She shouted just as loud as he had.

“Bullshit.” He stormed around the desk, pacing back and forth. “I’ve seen it firsthand. I’ve had to dig you out of your condo and spend hours convincing you to get back on tour again, or get back in the studio, or just get out of the hole you’d buried yourself in.”

It hadn’t been as bad the first time, with Owen. They’d actually stopped seeing each other before he got a manager. But with Bradley… She closed her eyes. It’d nearly killed her.

“Dax is his name, and he’s a good person.” Her voice had lost most of its heat, but she spoke loudly, trying to get her point across. “Give him a chance to—”

Delroy stood right in front of her, crossing his arms. “Okay, prove me wrong. If I offered to represent your newest puppy, sight unseen, a full management contract, would you be willing to give up your relationship with him? Drop him like a boulder?”

Not see Dax again except professionally? Not hold him, kiss him, laugh with him about silly things, never again watch his face as amazement filled his gaze, or passion darkened his eyes?

“You haven’t known Dax very long. It should be easy, right?” He spoke loudly, as if she’d drifted off somewhere. “Just tell him you’ve changed your mind about the sex part and I’ll do my best to make him a star.”

“And if I don’t?” With all her soul, she didn’t want to let him go. Could she do this for him? Give him a chance at a music career at the expense of her heart?

“If you don’t, then I won’t even see him.” Delroy’s lips tightened into a straight line.

“You’re a rat bastard, Delroy.” Burning formed behind her aching eyes, moistening them.

“Think of it this way, Mari. You and Bradley were together for five months. You’ve known Dax for less than a week.” He shrugged. “Cutting it off now is going to hurt a hell of a lot less than what’ll happen five months down the road when the puppy gets a recording contract and waves goodbye.”

Was she so unlovable that no man would stay with her? “Given those choices, I have no recourse but to break it off with him. Somehow. But you’d fucking well better do right by him.” Marilou felt like the sacrificial virgin on a Mayan altar, about to give up her heart for the greater good. But instead of quick and painless, she knew her whole being would ache for Dax, and for longer than she cared to imagine.

Her manager pulled her in for an unwanted hug. “Lady, you’ve made a very intelligent decision.” He stepped back from her stiff body and bent to look into her eyes. “Just tell him you brought him here to get over your Mardi Gras phobia, and now that you’re cured, he’s free to go.”

Imagining Dax’s face when she did this to him…would she see relief in his eyes? No, she knew it would be as hard for him as it was for her. She’d just have to keep reminding herself why she was doing this.

But her broken heart poured tears from her eyes like she hadn’t cried in years. Sobbing, she plopped in Delroy’s guest chair and accepted the box of tissues from him. She’d let it all out, cry herself dry, then try to repair her makeup before they brought Dax in.

Her makeup could be fixed, her heart…that was irreparable.

****

Ten minutes later, she’d used Delroy’s private bathroom and the makeup she kept in her purse to look almost normal again. She and her manager walked out to the lobby, but Dax wasn’t there.

“Shanna.” Delroy’s voice snapped and his receptionist stopped typing on her phone, her face flooding with guilt. “What have I told you about that goddamn phone all day?”

She swallowed, setting it down. “Sorry, Mr. North.”

He mumbled something about getting good help nowadays.

“Where’s the man I came in with?” Marilou kept her panic at bay. Maybe he’d gone to the bathroom, or out for a coffee, or—