Brand Me (Imagine Ink Book 2) (27 page)

M
ichael spent
a few days getting some things in order, but he started singing nights immediately. No playing guitar for the crowd yet, but singing was still good for him. Music had always helped ground him, and he honestly needed that in his life right now.

It took a few calls to get an appointment with Dr. Beckett, apparently the man had moved his practice around. Butterflies swarmed in his stomach when the doc said he knew a bit about him and was expecting his call in a few weeks. It meant Tori had practically ran to give the doc a heads-up. She said she would, but Michael hadn’t expected her to have done it already. To him, it meant she cared deeply.

He couldn’t wait to surprise her. Already, he’d looked up her address and had driven by her place to see where she lived, but mostly to feel close to her. The waiting was killing him, but he wanted to be free of some of the baggage first.

The lawyers were cutting a check and getting the paperwork together. Two days and he could get Tonya out of his house. After that first night, he’d been staying at a hotel, not wanting a repeat of what transpired, nor did he want to have to dodge her attempts at seducing him. It had taken on a new level the next morning after he laid down that law that night.

John flew his sister in from Tennessee for an informal dinner tonight, to discuss some things before he files charges. Tomorrow was his first sit down with Dr. Beckett, and the day after, Tonya would have her check and be gone. Plus, he had a movie style
I-Love-You
planned for Tori she’d never forget.
How else do you tell a movie buff that you want to marry her?

Things were looking up for him and he couldn’t be happier. Michael grabbed his keys and headed out to meet with John and Stacy.

As the first to arrive, he ordered coffee and was munching on complimentary bread when his attention was diverted to the door. John entered with a woman on his arm who commanded undivided attention. Her presence was in direct conflict with her petite frame. She was all of five-four in three-inch spikes and maybe one hundred pounds soaking wet, yet her confidence took up every inch of unoccupied space in the entire restaurant.

Every diner, male and female, turned and watched her approach. Michael rose and pulled out a chair for her. With magnetic charisma, she had a fire in her that promised fierce loyalty, or enmity; depending on which side you landed on. Michael reached out to guide her to her seat, expecting his hand to come back scorched, but instead of taking her seat, she turned the all-business glamour off and launched into his arms like a long-lost friend.

Too stunned to do anything but return the embrace, Michael threw a puzzled look at John over her blonde head. “Well, it seems a little superfluous now, but Michael, this is my sister Stacy; Stacy, this is Michael.”

As Stacy pulled away, Michael felt a kind of a loss. That hug was unlike anything he had experienced before. It was as if she wanted to share the source of her fire with him through an embrace. With her hands still on his arms, she looked up at him with unshed tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m sorry about that, but John’s told me so much about you, I feel I know you already, and you reminded me a little of Troy standing there. He would be about your age now.”

A silence overcame them at the mention of Troy, but they shook it off. “I’m starving and I want to get to know you better, so let’s order, shall we?” Stacy asked with such professionalism before she took her seat and grabbed the laminated specials menu. John and Michael were still standing when she looked up at them like they were morons and motioned them to take their seats. Both men complied immediately. Michael was still in shock from her record-setting demeanor change. She went from obviously-emotional to courtroom-stoic in point two seconds.

No wonder this woman had such a commanding air, she controlled the very charge of the surrounding atmosphere with a flick of her hand and arch of a brow. Boy was he glad she would be on his side, because he knew he would wilt under her gaze if that was her desire.

They made small talk over dinner, each sharing quite a bit about themselves. Michael was grateful for the privacy their corner table offered and that the dinner rush was over. As soon as dessert was a memory, marked by a few crumbs on small plates, Stacy turned to him with sky-blue eyes filled with compassion and started asking the tough questions.

“Michael, I know how difficult this is for you, but I will need your total honesty. Even when you think it hurts your claim of what happened, I still need it, okay?” She set her phone to record and listened to every syllable intently. She started to cry, and Michael was sure when John reached a comforting hand to hers, he was in the same state. He’d shared the highlights with John, but not in this descriptive and emotional detail. The hurt Michael saw in their eyes wasn’t just for him, but for Troy, too.

There was a point in his retelling when he saw that shift in Stacy—that shift from concerned friend or even sister, reliving Troy’s own experience, to
I’m-going-to-bury-her-ass
lawyer. If anyone would see justice done, it would be her.

“Well, the bad news is, there is a 95% chance that the DA will not prosecute. I will contact them after the charges land on their desk and see if I can persuade them to move forward, but I highly doubt it, I’m sorry. But the good news, I can and will file a civil suit, and we have a chance at seeing some justice come to you that way.”

“At this point, Stacy, justice is mine as long as I stand up for myself, no matter what a judge or jury says. I’m a winner already, because I’m not blaming myself, and I have you and John at my back. I couldn’t be luckier. The real reason I want to proceed in this direction, beyond simply filing charges and standing up, is the potential pregnancy. If she is pregnant, and the child is mine, I want my rights as a father. I don’t need to see her pay to be vindicated, but I do need to be in my child’s life, preferably full-time, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Then first things first. You file charges. I’ll get to work on a civil case. Once we have a definitive answer from the DA, we will proceed. I’ll ask her lawyer for a voluntary NIPP, non-invasive prenatal paternity test, to determine paternity. If she refuses, we may be forced to wait until the baby is born for a court to order it.”

It was obvious Stacy’s mind was already in the courtroom and preparing documents as she gathered her belongings and rose. Michael reached out a hand to stall her retreat. When she sat back down, Michael took her hand in both of his.

“Thank you. For everything you’re going to do but also, for everything you’ve already done. You’ve given me hope, and that’s all I needed, anything that happens from here on out can’t change that.” Michael thought from what John had said about their sense of helplessness with Troy, that this is what she needed to hear. The look on her face confirmed it. “The DNA test at this point is priority. You’ve already given me a sense of justice simply by listening and being willing to fight, so if we have to promise to drop the suit, I will, if it gets the test earlier.”

Stacy reached into her purse and grabbed something to dab her eyes with before she spoke with a shaky voice, “Thank you, Michael, that’s the best thing you could’ve said to me. Knowing I can give you,
gave
you that, is all I could’ve wanted.” Donning the firecracker lawyer mask once more, she turned her flaming gaze on high. “Now, we have a game plan to move forward. We proceed with filing everything we can, then offer to pull back what is within our power to, in order to get the test A.S.A.P.”

John, who had sat quietly until now, interjected, “Well, now that business is out of the way, tell me about Tori. Have you declared your undying love yet?” It was good to hear John laugh and the lightened tone that now enveloped the table was comforting.

“No, but I plan to. She’s a movie nut, so I’ve got the perfect way to woo her.” They accepted coffee refills and another round of dessert.

“Aren’t you a bit of a movie buff yourself?” John posed the question between sips of coffee.

Michael stopped eating and looked around like it was a big conspiracy. “Yeah, I am, but Tori doesn’t know that. As long as she thinks I’m not, I get extra credit when I know movie things, so keep it on the down low, will you?” The laugh they shared was organic and it felt good to just joke around.

They sat there a while longer, discussing more personal things and getting to know each other better. As it turns out, Stacy is moving her practice and advocacy group from Tennessee to Walton County in the summer, which ironically, Dr. Beckett has joined. And John got hired on with a local air service. Within a handful of months, everyone important in Michael’s life would be in the same tri-county area.

It felt nice to be on top for once, Michael thought, as he left the restaurant and headed to the Moldy Dog for his performance. The only thing not going his way was the hand. It wasn’t as agile as it should be and his playing suffered, so on stage, no guitar. He’d taken on a strictly vocal role. It wasn’t too bad, he did miss playing for the crowd, but he would settle playing for one person as long as it was a private show, which he certainly could manage.

Michael was antsy for some reason. Maybe it was all the things on the horizon. Maybe it was being within thirty miles of Tori and not waking in her arms. Whatever it was, those things would work themselves out; tonight, he had this special performance to finish. The club owner’s daughter was turning twenty-one and he booked Michael’s band as a gift for her.

Now, it was time for the next to last song; her request, “
I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing.”

Michael put on the most sincere performance he could and sang the song to her as if she were the only woman in the room, even though Tonya was sitting there velcroed to her fucking side. She had insinuated herself so close that she was under the spotlight with the birthday girl. God, he hated it. The look on Tonya’s face made him want to wretch. She was eating it up like he was singing to her.
Well, fucking enjoy it you phony bitch, it will be the last time you ever get to pretend.

S
tanding
inside the door of the artificial fog-filled room, it only took her eyes a few minutes to adjust, but her ears were spot on. That voice ignited a desire deep inside her and stroked her like a lover’s touch. Her skin goose bumped at the notes he was hitting.
Fuck, he is amazing.

Her eyes landed on him as soon as they fully adjusted to the low ambient light and the colored moving ones of the stage. He was captivating, standing there holding the mic stand with both hands and matching Steven Tyler’s delivery almost note for note with a few personal touches. Even though he wasn’t playing guitar, his vocals were killing it.

It stilled her heart to realize he was singing one of the songs his mom sang to him as a kid with such intensity and passion. She remembered the sensations that rippled through her when she was on the receiving end of that concentrated passion. If it was possible to orgasm from a memory, it would have happened right there inside the Moldy Dog.

So, he really is home. Does that mean everything else is true, too? No,
she silenced her inner doubts
.
That’s why she was here, to learn the truth, straight from him, like Erika had advised, like her mother always advised.

Tori realized he was focusing somewhere to the right of the stage. She tried to drag her gaze that way to see what focal point could draw such intensity, but looking away from him was damn near impossible.

Mesmerized, Tori couldn’t believe she’d had the chance to be with a man like him. Immediately on the heels of that thought came a picture of the woman in his house with a hickey, insinuating they were together.

Even with the mounting evidence that he wasn’t being completely honest, she would reserve judgment until there was proof. Michael winked in the direction that held his attention, and Tori was finally able to follow his gaze to a spotlighted table where two women sat, swaying to the music.

One of the two women turned her way, and she was face to face with the silk robe-wearing bitch from his place. Hickey woman smiled a triumphant smile at Tori and swung her head back around to give Michael’s performance her full attention.

One word was sounding in her mind with deafening volume, drowning out even Michael’s voice.

Proof. Proof. Proof. Proof.

It was like a scratched record over, and over, again. She shifted her tear-blurred eyes one last time to the man she knew she’d love forever, then she spun on her heels and left the Moldy Dog.

And Michael.