Vanni: A Prequel (Groupie Book 4) (25 page)

I look away. “Do you know how hard it is to find someone who will believe in you in this business? Who will stick their neck out? Who will sacrifice something of themselves to help you out?”

She laughs. “Oh, honey. You really don’t think she was being altruistic, do you?” She sighs and then grabs a ledger from under the bar. She opens it to show the kind of income Sedução enjoys, just on the cover charges alone. “You ever wonder why she sent you out of town? She was farming you out to her friends and keeping you far away from the competition. She had to keep you isolated and sheltered, otherwise you’ll figure out what kind of stupid game she’s playing. She could have found you a studio and recorded your first demo record if she wanted. You guys had a real audience here. If she was really looking after you, if she truly believed in you, why didn’t she give you a percentage of what they take in at the door like all her other mid-range acts? She offered you a flat rate, and a cheap one at that.” She shakes her head as she clicks her tongue. “Everyone wants that guaranteed money, though. That might have been okay when you started, but you’ve never failed to pack this place in all the time you’ve played here. This is the kind of stuff you need to be negotiating, Vanni. Do you know how many gigs you can get if you just offer a split? And you can bring the audiences in now. All you have to do is beef up your Internet presence, so people know where you’re playing when you’re playing. The fans you’ve already made will find you. The person you need to have confidence in isn’t Tina, Vanni. It’s you.”

I noticed she hasn’t called me Joe once. Somehow it makes what she’s saying more important. “So what do I do?”

She leans forward. “I’m talking to the nice guy that’s still left under all this polish and sheen and bullshit. You know the one, who played with my kids and watched football with my dad, who stood up for me against my asshole ex. He’s still in there and I believe in him even if you don’t. If you ever want to be that guy again, you’ll turn around and march out of here and never look back. There are people who will eat you alive in this business, and Tina’s at the top of that list. She can’t help you. She won’t help you. All she’ll do is turn you into a soul-sucking user like she is. You’re better than that. That’s why you have to go, and you totally can. In the end you call the shots for your own career and that’s all.”

I’m scared as shit to do exactly what she says to do. It may not have been perfect, but Sedução was a helluva lot more money and exposure than we had before, even if it did keep us chained like dogs to Tina’s leash. Sure it may have been skewed to her advantage, but that’s how you run business, right? You have to look out for yourself.

And that’s what I do as I leave Sedução for the last time.

I don’t know where I’m going from here. It’s more uncertain than it’s ever been. I find my way to Fritz’s without even trying to.

I see her face the minute I open the door. Despite how much I tried to bury them, all the old feelings rush back. I know it’s the same for her the minute our eyes meet. She’s panicked to see me because she still gives a damn.

And I so need someone to just give a damn.

“We’re not open yet,” she says.

“I’m not a customer,” I reply. “I want to book Fritz’s for another performance.”

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Vanni. I can’t. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?”

“I told you why.”

I slam the wood flap onto the counter as I walk behind the bar. “Yeah, I know what you told me,” I say as I back her into the bar, with an arm on either side of her. “But this isn’t about you and me. It’s about my fucking life, Pam.”

The words barely eke out of my throat. The longer I stare at her, the more emotional I get. Any fear that she might have had evaporated the second she saw the tears in my eyes. She takes me into her arms without question.

“What’s wrong?” she murmurs into my ear.

I clasp her tight. So soft, so warm, surrounding me everywhere in a jasmine-scented cloud. She feels like love. “Everything,” I manage.

I feel like a fool, but I know Pam doesn’t judge. Of all the people in my life, Pam and Sasha don’t judge.

They’re also completely off limits as a married lady and a single mom. Finding anything meaningful in a personal relationship seems as impossible as breaking in.

So many missed opportunities… so many stupid mistakes. For the first time in a long time, I wonder what the hell it’s all for. It was this kind of hopelessness that drove me to chase after street gangs in Philadelphia, before my Mama decided to risk it all and come to Brooklyn.

Now there’s nowhere to go.

“Come on,” she says as she leads me from behind the bar and towards the back, where her office is located. She shuts the door behind us and I flop down on top of her big wooden desk. “I could use a drink,” I mutter, suddenly embarrassed by my emotional outburst.

“You’ve had enough,” she tells me as she sits next to me.

“Sometimes I think there will never be enough,” I confess. It’s one of my dirty little secrets. Whenever things get tough, I reach for the bottle. I’ve been doing it since I was fifteen years old, even though I know that was what drove my dad away.

Maybe I’m destined to be just like him. Drunk and alone.

“You were right to marry whatshisname,” I tell her.

“That’s the booze talking. Let me get you some coffee,” she offers as she steps away from the desk. I pull her back by the wrist. Our eyes meet and all those old feelings spark to life.

“I don’t want coffee,” I say in a soft voice.

Her breath quickens as she realizes her error. She’s stuck with me, three sheets to the wind, in her locked office. There’s nothing now to stop us but her willpower.

“Vanni,” she murmurs, and it just sets my nerve endings on fire. I’ve dreamed about that sweet voice saying my name.

“I know,” I say as I pull her closer. “I should go.”

She gulps as her body makes contact with my massive chest. She feels small and dainty in comparison. She’s so flustered she can’t even speak. My hand snakes up to caress her face. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” I ask. She shakes her head. “Since the first time I held you in my arms and felt you swoon against me. Like now,” I add in a whisper.

My mouth nearly lands upon hers when she utters the only two words that can stop me. “I’m pregnant,” she says softly.

I stare, unblinking, into her face for a long moment. I want to ask so many questions. When? How?
Why
?

But I already know why. She’s a good girl. A sweet girl. And she needs a normal love that I know in my gut I’m not capable to provide. Doug provided that for her. A decent guy. An ordinary guy.

A guy I can never, ever be.

I hold her so long that she shudders against me. “Please,” she tries again. She’s holding onto her honor with a death grip. “Let me go.”

I run a thumb across her bottom lip, so full and ripe and ready to be kissed. And God knows I would kiss her, had she not crushed my heart with her words. There was no way that I would ever stand between a child and its family. Ever. Even for Pam, the first woman I ever came close to loving. And she knows it too, which is why she said what she said, when she did.

There’s only one thing left to do.

“Not yet,” I finally say, holding on as long as I possibly can. “I’m not done telling you my story.”

I can feel her tremble. I tremble in return. I know she can feel it too.

“I sang for you that day. Remember?” She gulps hard again before she nods. “I had just written my first song, and you were the only one who believed I had what it takes to make it. Do you still believe it?”

Her eyes meet mine. “Of course.”

My throat aches as I say, “I’m going to miss that.”

My heart thunders against my chest. I have one last song to sing. I dig back into the 1970s for a bittersweet ballad from the Manhattans, about two lovers who want one final kiss before they say goodbye. It was one of my Mama’s favorite songs. I could only imagine why. Pam’s eyes are locked with mine as I deliver probably the most heart-felt performance of my life. My hands slide over her body, over her shoulders and down her side, over the sweet swell of her hip. I stand, and we start to sway to the song. Her eyes flutter shut as she sways against me. Her arms slide around my waist and she lays her head on my shoulder.

When I finish the song, she lifts her head to face me. Slowly my mouth descends on hers, covering her parted lips softly. I feel her swoon against me I deepen the kiss without apology. If it’s going to be our last, it’s going to count.

My heart swells as she kisses me back.

One hand tangles in her hair as I clutch her tight. Her full breasts press into my chest, and it’s all I can do not to cup them in my hands. My palms ache to caress them. Likewise her nails dig into my shoulders as she holds on for dear life.

When I finally drag my mouth away, we’re both dazed. It would be so easy to swipe all that crap from her desk and take her right there in her office. Dear God, it’s all I want to do. My holy grail… my sweet Pam. I could lift that skirt and plunge inside of her, taking what I’ve wanted for all these long, lonely months.

But it’s not just Pam anymore. It’s Pam and her baby, her nice, normal baby, one that ties her forever to a man named Doug, in a life so foreign from mine now that it’s like a moon orbiting a distant planet. Her body isn’t mine to take. Her love isn’t mine to steal. And if I ever cared about her, even a little, I know it’s best for everyone if I just let her go.

So I lift her left hand up to inspect that plain gold band that rests on her third finger. The New Vanni didn’t give a shit about that ring. We were here first. We have a right to take what we want, because she wants it too. I know she does. I can feel it in her body. I could taste it in her kiss. I can see it in that cloudy look in her beautiful eyes.

I lean forward and leave a long, lingering kiss on her hand. I’m a selfish, entitled shit, but I’m not a bastard. I’m not going to hurt her and I’m not going to let her hurt herself either.

I’ve got to make some changes if I ever want to get control of my life back–control of
me
back.

“Goodbye,” I whisper against her hand.

I finally leave my neighborhood tavern. And I know I’ll never return.

The month of November is rough for a lot of reasons. I’m drinking too much, for one. I barely leave my house for two. Using Sasha’s advice, we finally book some gigs using the split, but the pay is abysmal. Fortunately, Alana has a few ideas.

She works for Schuster and Beckweth, a public relations company in the city, so she understands what kind of promotion we need. She takes over the website almost immediately, working hard to make connections and polish our social media so that we get our fledgling fanbase into the clubs.

By Thanksgiving she’s already adopted all of us, and we opt for an orphan’s gathering at their Chelsea apartment. Since they’re both vegan, it makes it an interesting dinner indeed. Felix shares one of his magical joints with me, which means I’m eating everything that isn’t tied down anyway, so it’s all good. And it’s so far removed from the Thanksgivings of my past it barely hurts.

December limps along much like November. Again, Alana and Iain host the holidays, which makes them a bit easier to face. Despite what Tina had said, Iain and Alana had found love in the crazy rock world, so being around them actually gave me hope that, even if I couldn’t have a normal life, I could have a happy one. I start writing better songs, rather than all the bitter, angry ones I had purged after everything that had happened with Tina.

Hell, I’m even able to purge what had happened with Lori, and I know that when I pass her window-shopping on Fifth Avenue. She looks nothing like the last time we saw each other. I’m not sure which change surprises me more: the wedding rings on her finger, or the massive pregnant tummy under her maternity shirt. Apparently there’s something in the water.

I decide to wave the flag first. “I guess congratulations are in order.”

“Thanks,” she offers awkwardly.

“Tony’s?” I ask.

She nods. “We got married last year.”

“Ah,” I say as I scramble for something more significant to say. She holds her belly as she looks up at me, and I wonder what we had ever shared. Had I really thought that we could ever have a future together, that we had somehow managed to find forever kind of love? Maybe I don’t know what the hell love is. But apparently she does, because she was willing to gamble the rest of her life for it.

After everything I’d been through, I really don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that. The odds are low I’ll ever find anyone I can trust that much again. Except for Alana, every good, decent girl I’d met wanted nothing to do with the chaos that surrounded the life of a rock star.

And who could blame them?

Lori, Pam and Sasha all needed dependable good guys who could put their needs first, and I had never been capable of that with any of them. It was, and is, all about my dream.

I honestly didn’t see how any woman could compete with it. Not for real. And not for long.

To her credit, Lori actually looks repentant. “Listen, Vanni. I just want to say I’m sorry for how it all went down. I was such a stupid kid back then. I should have been honest with you from the beginning.”

“Ditto,” I reply. I know now my biggest mistake was putting my dreams on hold and acting like that was okay, when inside it was killing me.

I’ll never do that again, that’s for sure.

“No hard feelings,” I say, and I’m surprised to find that I actually mean it. “I wish you and Tony all the best.”

She smiles. “Thanks. You too.” She pauses for a beat before she asks, “Are you still performing?”

I nod but don’t say anything. I figure there’s no room for gory details in small talk.

“Good,” she says. “You should. You’re really gifted, and I’m sorry I let my fears get in the way of that.”

It’s the best thing she could have ever said to me. I reach for a hug. She complies. I feel her belly jump against me, which makes me laugh. How weird and wonderful and alien. “Looks like you have a football player in there.”

“A ballerina,” she corrects. She looks so calm and serene about it, like she’s unraveled some mystery of the universe. I almost envy her.

“Congratulations again,” I say before we part ways. I’m glad she’s found someone to make her happy, because if that was what she needed, the wedding and the babies and stability, I know I’m not the guy for her, and never had been.

My first, and as it turns out, only, true love is music.

By the time I get home, I already feel like I’ve been on a spiritual journey. I look around non-decorated home and suddenly miss all the Christmas stuff my aunt would haul out every Thanksgiving so that we could enjoy them from the beginning of the season to the last.

I consider putting up my tree. I even climb up to the attic to fetch some of the decorations, just a few, just so that there’s some kind of hint of merriment to liven my holiday.

I stop dead in my tracks when I run across Aunt Susan’s gifts to me from 2004, still wrapped, now dusty, hidden away in a forgotten box in the attic.

I sigh as I sit cross-legged on the floor. Maybe Sasha was right. Maybe it is time to open them. The first one is a big one. It’s a leather jacket, one I’ve always wanted. My aunt must have spent a fortune on it, and here it’s been hidden in this box all this time. It still smells brand new as I take it out. I run my hands along the fabric, which feels cool and textured against my hand. A tear I don’t even realize I’ve shed splashes on it. I brush it away.

I reach for the next one. It’s a long, slender box, so I figure it’s a scarf to go along with the jacket. Only this time I’m wrong. Inside the slender box is an envelope. My brow furrows as I open it and read the content silently.

THIS CERTIFICATE ENTITLES THE POSSESSOR TO TWENTY HOURS OF STUDIO TIME AT BELLWETHER DIGITAL AUDIO SERVICES.

I can’t believe my eyes. I have to read it at least five times to fully grasp what it means. My aunt, my beloved
prozia
, my guardian angel, paved the way for me to follow my dreams and I didn’t even know it. All this time I had been chasing after shadows, when a sleeping dragon lay hidden in my attic.

I reread the certificate, and realize the studio is local, right here in Brooklyn.
My Aunt Susan always had a local connection
, I think with a smile. I can’t wait to tell the guys. I know that we’re ready to take this next step, and that was why it was revealed to us now instead of two years ago.

But I have one thing to do first.

I go to the cemetery and say thank you in person. I take flowers, because she deserves flowers. I spread them around on her tombstone to make it pretty, and to show the world that might pass by that a wonderful person is buried here. And I loved her. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.

I speak in limited Italian as I sit there on the cold ground. I say all the things I haven’t been able to say, because I haven’t felt worthy to say them. I thank her for the gifts. I apologize for how badly I lost my way. I apologize most of all for not coming to see her. I don’t promise to be better. My aunt Susan knew better than that.

She knew me best and loved me most. What more can you ask for from anyone?

By the time I reach the festive little apartment in Chelsea, everyone has gathered for our Christmas celebration. I save my gift for last.

Thanks to my Aunt Susan, Dreaming in Blue has another chance.

This time we’re not going to waste it.