Melody of Truth (Love of a Rockstar Book 3) (9 page)

“Shit!” I cursed.

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“It’s a huge deal!” I contended. “I know it looks like we are only getting married because of said green card.”

“Aren’t you?”

The hopefulness in his voice tore my soul in two. I wished I could give him the answer he wanted to hear, but lying wouldn’t do him any favors. “No. There are a million reasons why I’m donning the white dress and committing to spend my life with him. The green card isn’t one of those reasons.”

“You’re really expect me to believe you love him? You’re acting like you’re about to go to prison.”

“It’s just a case cold feet.”

“As your friend…” Sean spit out the word as if it was a sour cherry. “I’m here to tell you this is more than cold feet—way more. This is your gut telling you to run.”

SHIT. SEVEN DAYS. THAT WAS
how long I had to convince her what a bad idea it was to walk into a marriage riddled with doubt.

I couldn’t say there wasn’t an ulterior motive at play. Giving Melody up to another guy sounded worse than selling off my prized vintage Gretsch drum kit—a lot worse.

It dawned on me right then how deep my feelings went when it came to her. They dove past lust straight into a zone that should have been off limits if my heart knew what was good for it.

Why couldn’t I have fallen for a woman who was available? Who I stood a chance with? Because she would have paled in comparison to Melody, that was why.

As I snuck a glance at her profile, the curved line of her nose reminded me of an upside down G minor cord. Her voice was like soulful jazz, husky and smooth, while her laughter fell on the side of classic rock, smooth and rolling.

She was the embodiment of everything that was great in music. I couldn’t lose her.

Peering into the glass, Melody murmured, “He’s a really good man.”

“So is my dry cleaner,” I said snarkily.

“You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“Marco and I met at a salsa club when I was visiting Spain. We become fast friends and even though I was attracted to him, nothing happened romance-wise between us. He had a girlfriend, though I use that term loosely. They fought and broke up more times than they were actually together. Anyway, after I returned to the United States, he had a little boy named Hendrix.” Melody smiled with affection for him. “He has a mop of brown hair and caramel-colored eyes like his father, a total lady killer.” The light dimmed from her eyes as she reached the climax of the story. “Marco reached out to me and let me know he was attending a summer program at Columbia University two months ago. I won’t dive into details but we got together and soon after, his ex-wife called to let him know Hendrix had contracted C diff.

My medical terminology limited, I asked, “What is that?”

“It’s an infection of the colon. It’s curable, but it is also relentless. Almost twenty percent of patients get it again, which is what happened to Hendrix. His only hope is a world-renowned health practice that deals with cases like his in upstate New York. The problem is Marco and his ex-wife don’t have the funds or health insurance to send him.”

The picture became clear. “You’re marrying Marco so he can get on your insurance?”

“It’s one of the reasons, yes. His son deserves to live a healthy life and if I can grant him that, I will.”

“At the expense of your own happiness.”

Twisting her hands in her lap, she frowned. “Marco is a good man.”

“I know, you said that already.”

Unable to save her mother, Melody had gone on a quest of redemption, traveling to the farthest reaches of the world and shining a light on important social issues. Her savior complex had gone too far this time.

“You can’t…”

She cut me off with a shake of her head. “Stop. I can do whatever I want and I’m choosing to marry Marco, so you must understand why we can’t be friends.”

“No.” I scooted a tad to the right, out of punching range and the reach of her seething glare. “You’re a fool to think I’ll give you up before I have to.”

“We are dancing with fire. What happened last night can't happen again."

“Nothing happened. We fell asleep.”

“Holding hands.”

“Unless holding hands has a different connotation in Spain, I think you’re overreacting.”

Word to the wise: don’t tell a woman she is overreacting unless you truly want to witness fireworks.

“You’re such a selfish asshole!” she screamed, jumping to her feet. “This is my potential marriage on the line and I’m asking you to honor that! Why is that so difficult for you?!”

“Do you really want to know the answer?”

The wind got knocked from her sails as took an unsteady step backward at the unspoken words hidden in my question. “You said you wanted to be friends.”

“Because I couldn’t have you any other way.”

Her body sagged against the doorframe, defeated. “I need to be alone.”

As I walked out of the back area of the bus, my bandmates’ curious gazes followed me to the booth, where I sat down and pulled out my earbuds to watch drumming videos.

“HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN HOW TO
use a spoon?”

The utensil spun in a circle on the table. It came to a dizzying stop, and I nudged it with my fingers, sending it spinning agai
n
.
“I’m not in the mood for your smart-ass remarks.”

Matthew lowered himself into the seat across from mine. “What’s up?”

The last time we had spoken about Melody, he had encouraged me to stay away from her to avoid drama. I didn’t want to prove him right by spilling the shit storm my love life had become.

“Nothing, just a lack of sleep is all.” To switch the spotlight off me, I aimed it at him. “You have been tenser than a rubber band lately. What’s up with you?”

He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. “I’m going to sound like a pussy, but I miss Camilla.”

“You’re a better version of yourself when she is around.”

“Right?! The demons quiet in her presence.”

Matthew didn’t talk about what exactly the demons were, never had. Five years of friendship and I couldn’t fill in a quiz about his likes and dislikes. It used to bug me the hell out of me, but now I accepted it for what it was.

“You can buy her a plane ticket,” I said.

“She is too busy with her upcoming play and her clients.”

“Two or three days isn’t a lot to ask.”

“Nah, I won’t throw a kink in her schedule because of my inability to cope without her.”

What was up with people denying their happiness for the sake of others? My mom, the poster child for selflessness, used to buy her favorite ice cream and hide it behind a pile of frozen meals. During afternoon naptime, she would spoon two scoops into a paisley printed bowl. A quiet home without children running amok and double chocolate chunk ice cream equaled bliss to her. She taught me how important it was to put your wellbeing first sometimes.

“Woman find vulnerability sexy,” I stated. Matthew pinned me with a look like
are you kidding me?
I held my palms out in front of me. “I’m just saying you could give it a try.”

“I’m all right.”

“You were vulnerable when you admitted you missed Camilla. I could have called you a countless barrage of names.”

“You’re my best friend. I don’t give a shit if you think I’m weak because if you do, I can punch you in the face and prove I’m not.”

Matthew’s fingers flexed into a fist. Between him, Melody, and me, we had half of a crime fighting team.

“Ruining this nose would be considered a crime,” I cracked.

“It’s a little crooked. A smacking wallop could straighten it.”

My eyes widened in horror as I cupped my best feature outside my nether regions. “Don’t you dare.”

The smile that was uniquely Matthew’s—sinister with a hint of goodness—stretched his cheeks widely. “Now who’s the pussy?”

“I’m not a pussy, I’m just a vain son of a bitch.”

Chuckling, he dug into the cooler stocked with the local beer the venue had provided and underhanded one to me. I caught it and popped the top. With five minutes before sound check, this would be the only alcoholic beverage I would indulge in until after the show. I had learned as a young musician that drumming drunk equaled a whole lot of confidence and a sloppy performance.

With my feet propped on the table, I tipped my chair back. “Are you enjoying the business end of music?”

“I hate it. Luke should have warned me what an impossible nightmare managing is. The stress…” Matthew slowly shook his head. “We’re going to have to hire someone, anyone once the tour is done. I can’t be the lead singer and deal with concert promoters blowing up my phone.”

“Missing Camilla and being stressed makes for a grumpy musician.”

“Does it ever.”

I picked at the label on my beer, scattering torn paper onto the table.

Matthew nodded his chin toward me. “Is the world ending? Mr. OCD is causing a mess instead of cleaning one up.”

“Ha, ha.” I swept the scraps into my palm and dumped them into the trash. As I sat back down, he leveled me with a knowing stare. “What? I told you nothing is wrong,” I said.

“Dude, we have been on the road together six months out of the year for the last five years. You can’t bullshit me, and on top of that, I heard you and Melody having it out earlier.”

I forgot privacy didn’t exist on the bus. “How much of it did you catch?”

“Bits and pieces.”

Matthew was lying; he had caught the entire sordid conversation, and I was sure Ash and Noah had too. My worry piqued at the repercussions of having our dirty laundry aired. “You aren’t going to fire her, are you?”

“Why the hell would I?”

“You said you didn’t want any distractions to fuck up my concentration, which is why I’m guessing you sent that groupie to the bus.”

He grinned. “And?”

“We had a good time, but once the high faded, I was back to where I started.”

“I’m sorry man. I’ve been in the same situation.”

“Any advice you can give?”

Matthew swallowed the last remnants of his beer, pinning me with a look that ran a shiver down my back. “Be prepared to fight until you have given your last breath. Love—true love—doesn’t come easy.”

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Love is dramatic.”

“Touché.”

After a beat, he asked, “Is it true Melody is really marrying Marco so he can get a green card?”

My bandmates were worse than a group of gossiping old ladies. “It is, but it’s also because he needs her health insurance to help his sick son get treatment in upstate New York.”

“Why isn’t anything simple?”

“Beats me.”

Since the night before, I had been searching for a solution to Melody’s predicament. In the early morning hours, it hit me—a benefit concert. We could donate some of our funds from the ticket sales of our last show to Marco’s son’s treatment. I was going to wait until the whole band was together to run it by them, but in the end Matthew had the deciding vote.

Looking at him from the corner of my eye, I approached the subject carefully. “I was thinking we could hold a benefit show. ”

“It’s a generous idea, but our funds are tight right now.”

“How ‘bout I crunch some numbers and see if it’s even a possibility?”

“Knock yourself out.”