Melody of Truth (Love of a Rockstar Book 3) (12 page)

SEX DREAMS WERE PUTTING A
kink in my sleep. For three days after Sean and I made out, I had awoken majorly turned on with my hand between my legs. I felt like a teenage boy.

“Do you think it would be weird if I went to a male strip club by myself?” I asked my sister when she answered the phone.

The old woman next to me on the park bench leaned on her cane and hoisted her frail body upward. She gave me a sideways glare as she shuffled off.

“Depends on what type of strip club. Sleazy or classy?”

“How can you decipher the difference?”

“The name. Pussy’s Strip Club sounds like a venereal disease, Pussy’s Gentlemen’s Club sounds like a bunch of business men smoking cigars and avoiding their wives.”

“Ah. Have you been to one before?”

“Sure, all the time. I’m a frequent customer at Franky’s here in Seattle.”

“Really?”

“No.” She laughed. “I don’t need to watch a bunch of gyrating naked men. I have plenty of options at the click of a button.”

Hearing about my sister’s active sex life gave me hives. Fingers crossed the information I had drilled into her thick skull about using protection had sunk in.

“Are you still dating Mr. Douche-on-a-stick?” I inquired.

“We were never dating. He was merely there to scratch an itch.” A voice over an intercom announced the next boarding gate. “Watch where you’re going asshole!”

“Where are you?”

My sister sighed irritably. “People these days have no respect for crosswalks.

“Are you at the airport?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise!”

On my fourth birthday, my mother had hired a man dressed in a Barney costume to entertain my little friends and me, but I was terrified of the dancing purple dinosaur that burst into my house. The experience instilled a healthy fear of dinosaurs and a strong dislike for surprises in me. My sister was aware of this, yet she continued to try to reverse the damage.

“Jane…”

In a quick burst of air, she spilled the beans. “I finished with my finals early and was super bored of sitting around because none of my other friends were done, so I bought a ticket to Atlanta.”

My eyes scanned the dense wooden area of the park as if she were hiding behind a tree trunk. “You’re here—in Atlanta?”

“Are you mad?”

Jane could act as a buffer between me and Sean, ensuring no more slip-ups were in the cards. “I’m at Marymount Park, near the entrance. Meet me there.

JANE’S HAIR FLOWED AROUND HER
shoulders in a tangle of messy waves. Clad in a cropped jean jacket and knee-high boots, she looked fashionably chic. Her gaze immediately found mine as she walked through the iron archway. Jane waved as she approached the park bench.

“Funny finding you here. You hate nature.”

“What are you talking about? I slept on a dirt floor for two months in Africa.”

“Blah blah, you’re a world traveler, blah blah,” she mocked.

“Did you come here to annoy me or…”

She grinned and the green in her eyes twinkled. “The role of a baby sister is to irritate.”

“Well you’re a pro.”

“Thanks.”

She looked around at the peaceful retreat away from the honking horns and smogginess of downtown Atlanta. I had Googled the best spot to find solace and that had led me there.

Noticing the lack of luggage, I frowned. “Was your whim so last minute you forgot to pack a change of clothes?”

“It’s in the taxi. I figured we weren’t staying here and asked him to wait.”

“Is there somewhere in particular you wanted to go?”

“My friend Tanya told me about this amazing wholesale place on 55
th
and Lexington.”

“What do they sell?”

“Purses, shoes—ya know, the usual stuff.”

“Is it legal? I don’t want to unknowingly walk into an underground sting operation.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Yes MOM. Where’s your adventurous spirit?”

“I don’t have one when you’re around. Your safety comes first.”

“I can handle myself, Melody. I’m twenty-one,” she said, as if twenty-one equaled a sense of maturity. She had a long time coming before I cut the reins and stopped worrying about her.

I stood and slung my camera bag over my shoulder. “Shall we?”

“Sure. Unless you’re curious about going to a male strip club. I’ll be your wingman.”

“I’m good.”   

“Then what was the deal with your sudden interest in them? Horny for some bare man flesh?”

“Gross.”

She laughed. “Hey, I wouldn’t blame you. It has been almost a month since you’ve seen Marco.”

“I talked to him the other day on Skype.”

“That isn’t the same.” Jane came to a stuttering halt and looked me up and down. I squirmed under her assessing stare. “Wait a second, you’re wearing your guilty expression,”

“No I’m not.”

She pointed to my mouth accusingly as I nibbled my bottom lip. “Yes you are.”

Damn my sister for knowing me backward and forward, inside and out. Note to self: find a new nervous habit.

“It’s nothing. Let’s go find ourselves a counterfeit purse.”

As I attempted to walk ahead, she grabbed my elbow. “You aren't getting off that easily. Remember, we don’t withhold secrets.”

“We concocted that rule when we were teenagers.”

“So?”

“So are you really telling me you have been completely truthful with me?”

Jane skirted around the question, as expected. “We aren’t talking about me. We are talking about you. Please…” Her puppy dog eyes went into full effect. “I won’t judge.”

“Sean and I kissed!” I blurted it out and threw my arms in the air, relieved to get it off my chest and out in the open. “There!”

Jane squealed. “Was he amazing? He looks like he would be amazing. Those lips are like two pillows.”

“Beyond amazing.” It was the truth; Sean had the skills of a master kisser, rough but gentle. “I shouldn’t be kissing anyone besides my fiancé though. “

She held up her forefinger. “You had a minor lapse in judgment. You’re still holy Melody, the moral compass of right and wrong.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“It is what it is.”

Unsettled by her backhanded compliment, I paused before climbing into the cab idling at the curb. Jane gave the driver directions to the warehouse and he maneuvered the car into the lanes of traffic where we sat, crawling forward and waiting.

“Do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Marco?”

Jane looked as startled as I was. The question had popped free without a filter. She looked at me from the corner of her eye. “Do you feel like you are?”

“No…” The churning in my gut said otherwise.

Jane leaned against the window and folded her arms across her chest. “I always thought you had things figured out to a T—career, husband, kids, and a white picket fence. Now, the veil has been lifted and I’m realizing you’re as lost as am I.”

Irritation skirted down my spine at her smug tone. “Forget I mentioned it.”

The landscape of the city faded into the suburbs. Ticky-tacky houses and chain restaurants sprung free from the manicured lawns. I was surprised, having been under the impression we were venturing to a seedy area of downtown.

Baffled, I looked over at Jane. “Are you positive this is the correct direction?”

“One hundred percent.”

“What’s the name? I’ll type it into Google maps.”

“Saint Henry’s Church.”

“We’re going to a church? Doesn’t that seem contradictory?”

“Why? God doesn’t frown upon wholesale prices.”

She had me there. I rested my forehead against the cool pane of glass and must have drifted off because Jane shook me awake.

“We’re here. Do you have any cash on you?” She reached into my purse, unfolded two crisp twenties from my wallet, and handed them to the driver. “Keep the change.” She jumped out of the cab, ran around to my side, and yanked open the door. “Hurry!”

“Jesus, what’s your rush?”

“The Prada always goes first and I have been dying to get my mitts on a vintage 1972 silver leather tote.”

I had always known my sister had an affinity for fashion, but I hadn’t realized to what degree. She was up to something. What? I had no idea, and frankly, I was too tired to care. Between the sex dreams, the emotional toll of what was happening between Sean and me, and the constant late night shoots, my exhaustion hovered a notch above delirium. I stumbled onto the sidewalk. The gray stone exterior of Saint Henry’s Church loomed impressively between two small craftsmen-style houses. A cross was attached to the peak of the slanted roof and the mosaic window above the front door locked my feet in place. Jesus’s hands were outspread with a ball of light in the middle, his eyes staring out in the distance, taunting me.

Adulterer

Cheater

Floozy

“I’m gonna be dead by the time we get there,” my sister called from the front steps.

“You go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

“What if it’s a drug ring?”

“I have faith it won’t be considering the location.”

“Last week a meth lab was busted in the basement of a McDonald’s. Drugs are everywhere.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled to Jesus as I joined my sister and stepped into the holy house.

As I followed Jane down a steep set of stairs illuminated by a bare light bulb, the chances of stumbling into an illegal operation skyrocketed in my mind, as did my worry. The smell of mold clung to the damp walls.

“We should turn around,” I said.

“And miss out on the chance to own a Gucci wallet?”

“Don’t you mean a Prada purse?”

“Right.”

“Jane where the hell are you taking me?” My voice echoed in the cramped space.

She spun around with her finger pressed to her lips. Sighing, we continued to creep along the hallway until we arrived at a set of double doors. If I hadn’t been well versed in self-defense, you could bet every last cent in my bank account I would have dragged Jane back upstairs by the earlobe.

“One second.”

“Jane,” I whisper-yelled as she opened the door. “Jane!”

It slammed shut with her on the other side. I should have learned from the last adventure we’d gone on together: a visit to a vacant field where wild Chanterelle mushrooms grew. Unbeknownst to us, it was army owned and used as a shooting range during the day. A trip to the police station later, we had decided the quiche we’d wanted to bake wasn’t worth the stern lecture we had received.

With a resigned sigh, I went in after her. The open area resembled a gym, minus the low ceilings. Fluorescent lights buzzed and washed the room in a yellowish glow. Racks upon racks of fluffy white wedding gowns crammed the space. Women were running around, crazed by the ‘rock-bottom prices’ described by the banner on the wall in front of me.