The Song in My Heart (30 page)

Erika stood in front of her, pulling her out of her chair and pressing her to her body in one brisk movement. Her mouth was in Dess’s hair, against her ear, and she whispered over and over how much she’d missed her. Dess had no defense against the onslaught of feelings Erika’s presence unleashed in her.

Oh God, I’m going to faint
, Dess thought as Erika’s perfume, citrus and something mildly herbaceous, pleasantly tickled her senses, reminding her of their many—and yet not enough—nights together. Dess deepened their hug, clutching Erika hard, so hard, as though to keep her from slipping out of her life again.

It was another moment before Dess realized she was crying.
Oh Christ
, she thought,
I don’t want her to see me cry.
I do not want to cry.
I’m supposed to be the strong one
. And yet crying in front of Erika somehow seemed the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh, baby. Sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

Dess only cried harder at the soothing plea. She tried to apologize but couldn’t squeeze the words out. The tears continued, and the longer they went on, the more troubling it became. Where was stoic Dess? The one who had declared it was best that they went their separate ways? Where was the Dess who didn’t need anyone else? Who didn’t like to feel so weak, so needy? The Dess who had admitted to no one how much she loved Erika?

Well, she knew exactly where that Dess was. That Dess was long gone. The sight, the sound of Erika’s voice, her touch, had vaporized the old Dess in a flash. In Erika’s arms now, Dess didn’t know who she was anymore, and for the moment at least, she didn’t care, because it simply felt so damned good.

Erika guided her to the leather sofa. They sat down, Erika placing her arm solidly around Dess’s shoulders, and Dess fell against her. She was so soft, smelling of that perfume—and she thought how wonderful it was to be home again. To be sheltered, safe, to be loved. Erika, she realized, had always made her feel loved, and now Erika was patiently caressing her back, letting her cry herself out. Dess pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes, trying hard to stem the tide.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what—”

“Please. Don’t apologize or try to minimize. I needed this, Dess.”

Needed to see me in such a blubbering, weakened state? Needed to see that I’m a mess without you? That you’re actually the one with all the control? Fine
.
You can have my admission
.

“I love you, Erika Alvarez. I always have. And I always will. That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? That’s why you came here in person? To hear those words? And for the song, of course.”

Stunned, Erika pulled away, her mouth frozen open. “I—”

“You can have the song. And you can have what you always wanted to hear from me. Everything I have is yours. It always was.”

Without waiting for a response, Dess hurried to Jennifer’s desk and signed the contract for the song. She’d get fifty percent of the royalties, but she couldn’t care less. If it gave Erika the number one hit she wanted, then fine. It would be Dess’s parting gift to her, because she could see in Erika’s eyes how badly she wanted that song. How much she wanted it to be her conduit to superstardom. Erika had that hungry look about her, the same look Dess had once possessed when she could think of nothing but her desire to make it to the top. When making it to the top had become her entire raison d’être. That, she realized, was exactly the way Erika looked at her now.

When she turned around, Erika was behind her. Gently, she gathered Dess into her arms. “Dess, please don’t act like this song is some battle trophy.”

Battle trophy? Is that what she thinks
? “It’s not a battle trophy. It’s half my heart, and you can hang it on your belt like a scalp, if that’s what you want.”

“Dess. Don’t. This isn’t about the damned song now, and you know it.”

“The hell it isn’t.” She understood the music business all too well. Erika needed that song, and now she’d gotten what she wanted, including turning the tables on Dess’s heart.

Erika’s hand had crept up to her chin, and she pulled Dess’s mouth to hers. The kiss started out hard and uncompromising, as though it could mend all the things wrong between them. But it quickly deepened into something that could never be explained in a song, never be defined adequately with words. The kiss had taken on the aura of their bond, their connection, leaving Dess gasping for more. Her desire for Erika had only intensified over the months apart, and she was horrified to hear herself whimper. She simply couldn’t be in the same room with this woman and not want her to rip her clothes off and have her way with her.

She also realized that impulsive sex would solve the insistent throbbing between her legs, but little else. It was her heart that was grievously injured and so full of need.

“Do you know,” Erika said huskily, “how badly I want to make love to you?”

“No,” Dess pleaded.
Oh God
. “Please don’t.” If she allowed herself to think about it any more, she’d end up begging Erika to make love to her. And Erika would do it, too.
She’d make love to me and then take the song. How’s that for feeling used?
“Just. Please. Take the song and go.”

“Dess, wait.”

“No.” Tears began filling her eyes again, but this time, she wasn’t going to let Erika see her cry. Or comfort her. She’d gotten what she’d come for, and as far as Dess was concerned, their meeting was over. The necessary reasons for their breakup still remained. “Please just go.”

* * *

Erika had a ready excuse for her swollen, red eyes and runny nose. “I’m coming down with a cold,” she planned to tell Dayna when Dayna picked her up at the LA airport. But Dayna wouldn’t care. All she’d care about were the signed papers in Erika’s satchel.

She’d been tricked at Jennifer Parker’s office. No one had told her Dess would be there and that they’d be left alone together. She was simply supposed to retrieve the signed papers and add her own signature, then do a short guest appearance on a Chicago radio station. She’d blown off the radio station, her face and voice completely trashed after the emotional meeting with Dess.

Memories of the anger and hurt in Dess’s face came rushing back at her
. God, she thinks I’m a ruthless bitch, caring about nothing except the rights to that song
. Her mission had been to secure permission from Dess to use the song in exchange for half the royalties, and she’d done that. But if she’d known Dess was going to be there, it would have changed everything. She would have slowed things down. Talked to Dess, although, of course, all she’d really wanted to do was touch and kiss her. Make love to her again. Convince her that nothing was right since they’d parted.

Erika turned to the jet’s window to watch the approaching city and its wreath of smog. It had wrecked her to see Dess so distraught, and yet it was proof that Dess had truly—
finally!
—loved her. Now she couldn’t get Dess’s admission out of her head. And probably never would. “
I love you, Erika Alvarez. I always have. And I always will
.”

Erika smiled, although she felt like crying again. She should have danced with joy. Should have been ecstatic at hearing the words she’d wanted to hear since the first time they’d kissed and again the first time they’d made love. How many times had she fantasized about hearing Dess say she loved her? How many times had she nearly begged Dess to say it and to mean it? But when the words finally came, they’d sounded harsh, almost cruel, like Dess was doing it to punish her. It hurt too that Dess had fallen straight into a defensive posture, not allowing Erika to explain her feelings, to change the course they were on. That had knocked her completely off balance.
I should have gotten down on my knees and begged her to take me back
.

Erika shook her head in self-admonishment. She should have torn up the contract for the song. Should have told Dess she was and always would be more important to her than a song. Seeing her again, holding her, smelling her hair, her skin—it was like nothing had changed between them. All the old feelings were new again. Even now, her pulse quickened at the memory of kissing Dess again. She’d been blinded by her desire for Dess. Still was.

The wheels hit the runway with a thump, and the engine roared as the plane began to slow down. Somehow, she had to fix this. She wasn’t going to let Dess slip out of her life again. Not like this.

As the plane taxied to the gate, Erika switched her phone on and pulled up Sloane’s name from her contact list. Furiously, she began typing. After that text, she quickly drafted another to Jennifer Parker.

“Ah, there you are,” Dayna said, greeting her moments later as Erika and her fellow passengers streamed out of the gate. She held out her hand, not to shake Erika’s, but for the damned contract, Erika knew. She pulled the papers from her bag, angrily tossed them at Dayna’s feet.

“What the hell?” Dayna sputtered, bending to pick them up.

“We’ll record the damned song, but that’s it,” Erika ground out.

“What do you mean, that’s it?” Dayna clamped her hand on Erika’s elbow and guided her to a quiet corner before they began drawing attention.

“Get me in the studio later this week. Next week’s Thanksgiving, and I’m going out of town.”

“Fine, go out of town. But what’s the big hurry to get into the studio?”

Erika surprised herself by speaking so calmly. She should have been hyperventilating, and yet, the rightness of what she was about to do gave her the most serene feeling she’d ever encountered. “I’m going to get new papers drawn up for that song.”

Dayna’s face began to turn three shades of purple. “What the hell are you up to?”

“That song,” Erika said, forcing a mechanical smile, “is going to be a hit. You know it and I know it. We’re going to record it this week, and it’s going to make
you
a crapload of money.”

“You’re still not making sense. Are you high? Are you taking a page out of Bethany’s book?”

“Dayna, listen carefully to me. I’m going to sign my half of the royalties over to you immediately. You’ll get the other half within a couple of weeks, which means the entire rights to it—and all the money that song earns—will be yours.” There was still the small matter of getting Dess to sign over her share of the royalties to Dayna as well, but Erika was confident she could convince her. Already, ideas of how to persuade her were beginning to take shape.

“In return for what?”

“For letting me go.”

“Oh no. No way.” Dayna’s mouth twisted into a hateful smirk. “That song will make you a star, and if you think I’m going to let you go the minute you make it big, then you’re delusional.”

Erika forced herself into Dayna’s space, towering above her. “You,” she snapped and pointed a finger, “are going to let me go, or I’ll never do another thing for you. I’d sooner sabotage my career, be a one-hit wonder, than continue under contract with you.” She stepped back, schooled her voice. “You let me go now or I ride out the remaining few months of our contract without doing another single performance, interview, recording or anything else. At least this way, you’re getting something out of it.”

Dayna shook with fury. “You met with her in Chicago, didn’t you! Dess talked you into this. She hates me, and so do you, it seems, because she wants you to end up a washout, just like her.”

Erika retreated a few steps, refusing to be drawn into an argument. She kept her gaze fixed on Dayna. “We record the song as quickly as possible. After that, any communication between us will be done through my lawyer.”

On the taxi ride to her apartment, Erika checked her texts. She had a plan now, at least.
Her
plan. Not, for once, Dayna’s. And soon, she thought as a smile tugged at her lips, she’d be done with all this shuttling around. Planes, taxis, limos. Her life these days consisted of moving around from one city to the next, one concert to the next, one meeting to the next, one hotel room to the next. The so-called glamorous life was ninety percent shuttling around in cars and planes, going to and coming from strange places that would never feel like home.

She glanced at a palm tree as the taxi swept past it.
Good riddance, LA
.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The smell of the turkey in the oven had been making Dess’s mouth water all afternoon. A glass of Riesling and Carol’s two young daughters vying for her constant attention failed to take her mind off the food. It would be wonderful to eat a lavish, home-cooked meal, and she was starving. Too often lately she’d been eating out of cardboard containers.

Sloane, a regular at Hampton family dinners, sidled up to Dess. “You look like you’re about to rip the oven door off and start munching on that turkey.”

Dess sipped her wine, watched Sloane do the same. “That obvious, am I?”

“Yes, and it’s wonderful to see you getting your appetite back. Especially in time for Thanksgiving.”

Dess made a face. For months, friends and family had sounded like a broken record about how she needed to gain weight, how she was going to make herself sick if she didn’t. They were always watching her, nagging her. She still couldn’t get used to having gone from the superstar that everyone—including her family—treated like royalty to the poor lamb who needed constant tending. The breakup with Erika and the injury on that Wisconsin stage had, in her family’s eyes, made her once again in need of protecting. Just like when she was recovering from cancer. And some days, their constant attention pissed her off, but only a little. She understood how lucky she was to have such loving and generous people around her. And, of course, how lucky she was to be alive. She wondered, for not the first time or even the hundredth, who was looking after Erika. Who was cherishing her. It wasn’t Bethany Dunlop anymore, according to the latest gossip websites and magazines, and that gave her reason to smile.

She turned to Sloane. “I promise you that I can wait along with everyone else. But did you see that pumpkin pie my mom made from scratch? I might
not
be able to wait for that.”