“Is that her?” I slowly look over at my dad. His forehead is wrinkled, his smile is gone, and his eyes are sad. I’ve never seen this look on his face before, and it’s scaring me because I don’t know what it means. “Daddy.” I tug on his hand, but he doesn’t budge. He’s still stuck in the same spot, staring at the same blonde woman on the billboard.
I have a pretty good idea of who she is in her glittery dress and bright smile; I just need him to tell me I’m right.
“That lady up there, the one you’re looking at—she’s Juliette Scott, isn’t she?” I’m kind of afraid to ask about her, but it’s not because I think he’ll be mad; I’m scared it will make him upset. We don’t talk about her, ever. I mean, we have before, but it’s been a long time, and plus, I’ve never met her. All I know about Juliette Scott is that she’s my mother, she’s in movies, and she left me and my dad when I was a baby. Looking at her on that huge billboard makes me think she may be royalty. She looks like a princess.
He looks down at me then back up at the sign before shaking his head.
“I don’t follow her anymore. I had no idea taking you out to explore the city would . . .” He stops talking for a few seconds before squatting down to be eye level with me. “I know I shelter you a lot with limited TV time and not letting you go to the movies without me or your aunt or uncle, and I swear, Grace Ann, I do it for a reason—a very good reason.” He stares at me with a blank look on his face. “But I know I can’t do this to you forever. You’re growing up, and one day very soon you’ll be able to make your own decisions about Juliette Scott.”
“It is her! I knew it was. She looks just like the picture you have of her in the drawer of your nightstand. She’s beautiful.” I think I just admitted to doing something I’m not supposed to do. I’m not allowed in his room and I know that, but somehow I’ve always known the picture of her was in the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed from where he sleeps. Sometimes, when I think about her, I sneak in there and take a quick peek, but I never stay long, and I always put the picture back just like I found it.
He nods but doesn’t smile. “Yes, Grace, she is beautiful.”
“Do I look like her? Everyone always says I don’t look like you.”
He blows out a long breath and looks down at the sidewalk for a minute before gently gripping my arms and staring into my eyes.
“When I first met your mother, I thought she was the most beautiful person in the world, but then after you were born, I realized she wasn’t. You are the most beautiful person in the world, and when she left us, the pain I felt wasn’t for me. It was for you, because you deserved so much more. When you ask me if she’s beautiful and if you look like her, the answer to both questions is yes. When you get excited about seeing her face and her name in bright lights . . .” He shakes his head. “I honestly don’t know how to feel about that.” He releases me and places my hands in his.
I tilt my head to the side as I watch his eyes narrow and his forehead wrinkle.
“Just remember, Grace Ann, everything that glitters is not gold.”
One
Slade
Sixteen Years Later
I throw back a shot of whiskey as my gaze locks with a cute brunette sitting at the other end of the bar. She lifts the corner of her mouth, giving me a shy half-smile, and then her gaze moves to the fruity concoction sitting on the counter in front of her. She wraps her full lips around the straw and takes a long hard pull just as her eyes flit to mine. The look on her angelic face screams, I wish this was your cock!
I force myself to look away because watching her watching me is just fucking sad—for me, not for her. On a normal night at Huskers—or any other bar—my dick would be hard, and I’d be on my feet maneuvering through the crowd to get to that mouth . . . I mean get to her. But tonight isn’t normal. Not even close.
“The guys decided to dissolve the band. They’re done. The band Broken Thunder no longer exists, so it’s time we cut our losses and move on.” I can still see Gunner’s face when he broke the news to me earlier today.
“Fuck them,” I mumble to myself before tossing back another shot. The warmth of the liquid does nothing but fuel the fire running through my veins.
“Hey.” A gentle voice breaks through my thoughts as a small hand grazes the inside of my thigh.
I shift on my stool, attempting to divert the hand from landing on my dick while my eyes jerk toward the speaker. It’s the brunette with the angelic face who’s obviously more devilish than she looks.
“You look sad sitting down here all by yourself.” She hums as her lips curve downward into a perfect frown, just like the one I’m probably wearing.
I take my last shot of whiskey in my hand and cut my eyes in her direction before opening my mouth and pouring it down my throat. Fuck! How much of this shit am I going to have to drink to make this night stop?
There’s no way the guys are coming back. The decision to dissolve the band didn’t happen overnight. They’ve been chewing on it for months, maybe even close to a year.
“A fucking year and nobody thought it was important to tell me,” I mutter through gritted teeth. Those assholes were planning my life without even giving me a heads-up. My body tenses as I slam my shot glass onto the bar.
“Maybe sad isn’t the word I was looking for.” The brunette’s hand finds my cock and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Angry,” she says as she leans in closer. “I can definitely work with angry.” Her lips brush against my neck and then she squeezes my crotch again, only this time her hand seems stronger and her grip is tighter. I wait for the familiar twitch or even a jerk beneath my zipper, but it never comes. I feel nothing but irritation. She needs to go . . . now.
“Not interested,” I tell her, never making eye contact, but she doesn’t listen. Or maybe she thinks I’m joking, because she keeps her hand on my cock for a few more seconds before finally sliding it over, resting it on my thigh.
I blow out a long breath, drag my hand through my hair, and then glance over at the chick standing beside me.
She looks at me reluctantly before lifting an eyebrow and tossing out a sexy smile. “Not interested, huh?” Her lips twist into a slight pucker. “I bet I can change your mind.”
“Change his mind about what?” my best friend Gunner asks as he sidles up on the stool next to mine.
Thank fuck! I’ve never been so happy to see someone in my life. It’s not that I can’t handle this chick on my own, because I can—I’m just not in the mood to continue whatever game it is she’s playing.
The brunette giggles before leaning away from me and focusing on Gunner. “Hmmm . . . wouldn’t you like to know?” She pulls her hand from my thigh and walks away from me. I’m relieved she’s gone until I feel the warmth of her small body as she wedges herself between the two of us.
“Not really,” Gunner says, motioning for the bartender.
“You did ask.” She shifts her petite frame away from me until she’s facing him.