Mad World: Fall From Grace Part 6

"Studio?"

"Yeah, we have a sound proof studio apartment. that's where we practice every day." Yes. Yes. I want to bring my guitar and play those notes that make you sing like that.

"How many apartments do you guys have?" I wondered out loud.

"Tucker's father owns the building, so they're reasonable. So, do you want to hang out?"

I grabbed my coat, put on my shoes, and nodded. "Tucker and his family seem like they have it all, huh?"

Disappointment flashed across his features. "Yeah, Tucker has it all."

We stepped out into the windy February day and walked down the street towards his building. He glanced at me sideways, "Did you have a good time with Tucker last night? I saw you left the bar with him."

I looked at him and shrugged. "Yeah, he took me for a drive."

We stood on the corner waiting for the light to change, hands in pockets. "So, do you like him?"

"What? Why are you asking me these questions?" I asked. No. He disgusted me and broke my favorite pair of jeans. We walked across the street.

"I was just wondering. That's all. You just didn't look too happy with him sitting at the bar last night. I was surprised when you left with him."

I stopped walking and looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"It was the way you responded to him," he replied.

"Shane, what the h.e.l.l are you talking about? How did I respond to him?"

He looked up at the cloudy sky and squinted down at me. "He put his hand on the small of your back and you squirmed away from him every time he did. It looked like you were going to drink the whole bottle of Jack when he started rubbing his thumb on your back. The worst was when he touched your face and you cringed. Yet you left with him." He sighed and looked down, "I just didn't understand it at all."

"Strikes me as strange that you would notice all those things that you say I did. But, really, who I go home with isn't any of your business. I don't ask you about all the girls you take home."

"You can. I don't hide anything."

"Shane, I would probably get pregnant from you just telling me the things you do," I laughed.

His smile tightened.

We continued walking and at the end of the block, entered a narrow three-story apartment building. He guided me along the first floor and down a back stairwell into an enormous bas.e.m.e.nt that had been turned into a fully equipped music studio. Whoa.

Ethan was sitting behind his drum kit. He gave me a huge smile and jumped up to kiss me h.e.l.lo. "Hey, Grace. Here to listen to us?"

I nodded smiling.

Ethan's smile got wider, "That's great. Shane never lets chicks come down here."

I glanced over at Shane, who was holding an acoustic guitar, and lowering himself onto the floor. "Girls shouldn't be allowed down here. I can't find my muse if some chick is trying to suck on my neck," he laughed. "Besides, it's Grace. She's just one of the guys." He never looked up at me when he said the words. Nevertheless, I felt there was something more to him asking me to come here. A single b.u.t.terfly fluttered somewhere deep in me, in a place I thought was long dead.

A soft sad melody whispered through his guitar, slow and addictive.

Behind him, Ethan sat motionless, listening.

Shane's eyes closed and his voice drifted through the guitar notes; rising and reaching through my ears to the tips of my toes. It ached with a longing and a need. The words were pain and desire.

I watched as his whole body changed. His face twisted in agony and desolation, yet his body swayed gently to his music. It took every fiber of my being to not reach out my hand and touch his perfect face, to wipe away his sorrow.

I lowered myself to my knees where I stood. I couldn't trust my legs to hold me upright any longer.

He gazed up at me through impossibly long lashes, his eyes a scorching icy blue locked on mine. I couldn't tear myself away from looking at him.

Then at all once the music stopped, his voice holding a note for a single beat more; then silence. His torn expression stirred a fire in me. I felt warmth thunder through my veins under his intense glare.

His eyes tore away only when Ethan's voice cut through the room, "That was the most intense song I've ever heard, dude! That was crazy! Play that again and lemme find a good beat."

Shane looked back at me with no expression on his face. "Yea, sure, Ethan." They composed the song right in front of me. Shane hadn't looked at me again for the rest of the time. The strange personal moment he shared with me was over.

Sometime later, Brayden and Alex arrived and smiled at me. Brayden walked up behind me and hugged me, "Hey, Grace, it's nice to see a pretty face down here."

"Dude, I resent that. I have a very pretty face," Ethan chimed in.

Band practice turned out to be both entertaining and relaxing. An unfamiliar feeling of contentment settled over me. I stayed until my hunger overtook me, having not eaten since that morning. I said my goodbyes and walked out quietly. Shane never looked up from his guitar; just gave me a low, "Night Grace."

As I reached the stairs, I heard Shane call from behind me. He jogged over to me, hands running through his messy hair. "Sorry, I get really involved in there."

"Why would you be sorry? Listening to you guys play was epic. The music sounds even better without all the screaming half-naked girls," I teased.

His smile was amazing. We walked up the stairs to the front door. "I'll walk you home."

"That's not necessary, go back to practice," I insisted. Oh, but I want him to take me home. Shut up, shut up. Do not think about Shane like that!

"I'll walk her home for you," a voice said. A cold wind whipped through the front doors that Tucker was just coming through. His hair was slicked back and he was dressed in a long winter overcoat; unb.u.t.toned it flaunted his Gucci suit. His briefcase matched. I didn't even bother to look at his shoes, no doubt they'd be made of gold.

"That's okay, it's only a few blocks." I said.

"Well, it's dark out and a beautiful girl like you should have someone to protect her," Tucker replied. His smile was genuine. Protect me? This was coming from the guy who ripped the b.u.t.ton off my pants? "I'll get her home, Shane. You can go back to practice."

Shane's smile tightened; again. "Great. Thanks Tuck. Night, Grace," he said walking back down the stairs.

Tucker held the doors open for me and I was blasted with icy cold air. He ushered me out, "So, funny meeting you here," he smiled down at me. "Are you cold? Come here." He lifted his arm and wrapped it around my shoulder.

"Oh, that's okay. I'm fine," I said sliding out of his grasp.

Tucker didn't miss a beat; dropping his hands to my waist. "I don't mind. It's not every day that I get to walk down the street with a beautiful woman."

I stared straight ahead. "Thanks."

"So what were you doing here with Shane, anyway?"

"I was watching the guys practice. Why?"

"Oh, s.h.i.t! I'm supposed to practice with them after work, which is now! Why the f.u.c.k is it every time I have something I want to do, these a.s.sholes have to depend on me to do other things!" His anger seemed extremely misplaced. He even threw down his Gucci bag. Holy c.r.a.p, he's having a tantrum!

I tried to smile, "Tucker, I live like two blocks away. You go help them, I'm fine."

That made his pouting stop. He kissed me on the cheek. "I can't wait to take you out on Wednesday, but more than that, I can't wait for you to see me play on stage on Friday!"

"So go practice!" I pretended to be excited. You insane psycho! I think I need to get a very contagious stomach virus before this date.

I walked home alone; my small glimpse of contentment gone.

Chapter 7.

Unfortunately, I woke up Wednesday healthy and perfectly able to go on a date with Tucker. I was so entirely against it that Lea stayed home from work to spend the day being Tucker's cheerleader. The more I tried to explain to her that I didn't want to go on the date, the more disappointed she seemed; she was killing me.

Lea always had this fairy-tale delusion of us marrying best friends or brothers. We would go on double dates, be each other's maid of honor and live next door to each other. She had an extensive map laid out of her life, with everything she had planned to do etched in with permanent marker. Little did she know that when people make plans for their lives, G.o.d just laughs and makes his own.

Lea whined continuously about giving Tucker a chance as she primped and prettied me up.

She dressed me in a dangerously low cut silver blouse that hugged my body like a glove. A pair of black stretch pants, so no b.u.t.tons would be broken Lea reasoned, and my over the knee black leather boots. My long black hair fell in thick shiny soft waves and my eyes were smoky and s.e.xy; a dangerous look for someone who really didn't want to go on a date.

At 5:45, I was presented to Conner, who had sat in the living room for the last hour conspiring with Lea in telling me all the wonderful attributes of Tucker Bevli.

"Very hot," Conner appraised me.

I stood in front of our full-length mirror. I groaned and leaned my head on his shoulder looking away. "You aren't helping me at all." I playfully punched him in the stomach. "I don't want to date Tucker."

Lea put her arm around my waist and turned me to face the mirror again. "You are going to go on this date, whether you like it or not. And you should let that insanely, rich, jaguar driving, Gucci wearing Greek G.o.d take you out more, and then you should pull the pole from up your a.s.s and sleep with him." Then she smacked me on the a.s.s. Hard.

I watched myself in the mirror jump from the slap and laugh.

Five minutes later, Tucker texted me on my cell phone to tell me he was outside. He didn't even come in to get me. Didn't even call, just texted. Prince Freaking Uncharming. Strike one. I shook the thought and dragged myself outside to his waiting car.

I was a.s.saulted by cologne when I opened the pa.s.senger side door for myself. Strike two. He slid close to me and pecked me on the corner of my mouth with a kiss, wetly. I clasped my hands together to stop myself from wiping it away. Strike three.

"Are you ready for the best date of your life?" he asked; eyes sparkling, hair gelled to the sky.

"Well, aren't we filling me with expectations," I laughed. "Best date ever? Will I get to rate it after on a scale of 1 to 10?"

He gave me a thoughtful look and then smiled, "Nah, just a typed up report on my desk by morning." He laughed at his own joke.

"That would mean you'd have to make it worth writing about." I was a bit intrigued by what he might think the best date of my life would be, certain that it would be the furthest thing from the truth. "The question I have is whether you are trying to impress me, make me happy, or just make yourself immortal?"

"Immortal? What, like you're a vampire, I let you bite my neck and I'll get to live forever with a beautiful woman like you. I would. In a heartbeat."

I'd never met an a.s.s like him before. Strike four. "No, immortal because I would write about you. Theoretically, writing about someone makes them immortal, because the words live beyond them, keeping them alive."

"That doesn't make sense, but any who, no. It would be impressing you and making you happy. Not that I wouldn't love to be immortal. I can think of some situations where that can be really useful."

He just said "any who." What strike is this?

I laughed, "Oh, really?"

He sped down the street. Within two minutes, he was pulling up to Columbus Circle, right in front of The Time Warner Center. We could have walked there.

Noticing my puzzled look he purred, "I got reservations for Masa."

I just stared at him. Blankly.

Tucker jumped out of the jaguar, ran around to my side of the car, and waited for me to open my door. Strike twenty-something. Maybe he'd break a nail if he had opened it for me? He hooked his arm around my waist and squeezed. "Masa, Grace! It's the most expensive place to eat in Manhattan. It's a two hour eating experience that you're going to love!"

Inside was simple and elegant. We were escorted to an exquisite bar and our coats were taken as if we were family visiting. Noticing me without my coat, Tucker's eyes filled with pride. His chest visibly puffed out and he glanced around the room. I hated it, and it made me feel dirty. Why should he feel pride from me?

A bottle of champagne was brought out for his approval; the staff called him by name. The champagne was poured. Tucker sipped his and motioned for me to do the same. It went down delicious and smooth; he smiled.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"It tastes lovely, thank you."

"It's Gaston Chiquet Brut 1er Cru 2002. It's $150 a bottle. Drink as much as you want," he winked. Oh, I f.u.c.king will.

Without ordering, we were served food. Sushi. Well, at least I had $150 champagne to fill me up. I think that someone should warn you before taking you to a sushi bar, since it might be nice for a person to be able to tell you they HATED SUSHI!

Toro, uni, aoyagi, sayori...I kept drinking to make myself not think about what I was eating.

"This place is beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, leaning against the bar; eyeing me.

"Yes." Does he know ANY other adjectives?

"So tell me about you," he said.

"Like what?" I asked gulping my champagne.

"Where did you grow up, where'd you go to school? Stuff like that," he explained.

I swallowed hard, champagne going right to my head. I could tell him everything; that would send him packing. It almost made Jacob leave me and he was my brother. Tucker wouldn't believe me though; he wouldn't even hear me. "I grew up in Belle Harbor, a block away from the beach. Lea and I lived next door to each other." My knees started tingling from the champagne. "I've been to a couple of schools and I studied everything."

"I was thinking," he said, proving he did not intend to get to know any more about me. Sure, you were thinking. "Why don't I see if there's any room for an a.s.sistant in our office? I was thinking I could help you out, since you don't have a job right now." He smiled so wide, I noticed where all the sushi was stuck in teeth.

"Like a secretary? I don't think that's for me. But, thank you for thinking of me." Another bottle of champagne came to the table.

"Nonsense. Grace, you need a job. My firm is the best place, and when I become partner you could be my personal secretary." His eyebrows moved up and down.

I barked out a laugh that was a little too loud. "Nope. I'm good where I'm at right now, thanks." More sips of champagne. Does this come with an IV?