No Place Like You Read online

  Besides, Zach had tied one on the night the tour had wrapped up, drowning his sorrows in very good tequila with Ian and Austin, the three of them venting their mutual frustration with Ryder. That hangover had taken nearly three days to get over. He was getting too old for that shit. And it was way too soon for him after that to have any interest in repeating the experience. He’d stick to soda. He wanted to start work in the morning. Hole up in the studio and start digging into some of the ideas that had been running around his head the last few months.

  The studio.

  That reminded him of Leah. Of their exchange. Of the flash of hurt in her eyes when he’d said “no” to her proposal. Of how much he’d been enjoying looking at her before they got to that part.

  “Something on your mind?” Eli asked as Zach followed him back into the house to finish bringing out the rest of the food. They made two trips, then Eli went back in a third time and came out bearing two bottles of some hipster-looking soda. He held out to Zach

  Zach took the drink and glanced sideways at Billy. He loved the man as an uncle but he wasn’t going to talk about Leah in front of him. “Nah, I’m good.”

  Eli looked doubtful, but then he gave a small nod and changed the subject to gossip about a band one of their friends was currently touring with as a substitute bassist.

  By the time he’d eaten Billy’s not-too-terrible steak, Zach was feeling a little mellower. Apparently more so than Eli, who, when Billy wandered back into the house to watch TV, grabbed a beer from the small fridge built into the stand that held the grill. “You sure you don’t want one of these?”

  Zach shook his head. “I’m good.” He tipped his head at the drink. “Are you meant to mix booze with your painkillers?”

  Eli rolled his eyes. “I’m off the strong stuff now, Mom. I can have one beer.”

  “It’s your liver,” Zach said.

  Eli shrugged and opened the bottle. “So, you want to tell me what’s actually bugging you?”

  “Who says—”

  Eli lobbed the bottle cap across the table, and it landed right where Zach’s fingers were drumming against the tabletop. His next reflexive finger tap sent it bouncing back toward Eli.

  “That,” Eli said. “You only turn into a wannabe drummer when you’re stressed.”

  Damn best friends. They knew all your tells.

  “I’m supposed to be relaxing. So you have to tell me before you give me a relapse trying to figure it out,” Eli said, leaning back in his chair and propping his bad foot up on another. He looked pretty relaxed to Zach.

  “You’re not that sick.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Are you really willing to risk it?” Eli smirked at him.

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re a drama queen?”

  “Not often.”

  “Only because you look comparatively sane next to Billy.”

  “Hell, everyone looks comparatively sane next to Billy. Except maybe Danny.” Eli lifted his beer in a toast. “To mad musicians.” He took a long swallow. “But anyway, back to you.” He gave Zach a smug “betcha thought I’d fallen for your change of subject” smile.

  Zach contemplated trying to continue avoiding the subject. Eli could be as single-minded as Faith when he wanted something. It would be less hassle in the long run to just give in. “Leah came to see me earlier.”

  Eli’s smile turned from smug to genuinely pleased. “Leah? How was she? I haven’t seen her in … well, far too long.” He paused for a moment, expression contemplative. “Wait, she got divorced, didn’t she? Is she single?”

  Zach felt himself bristle. Tried to ease it down. “Strangely enough, the subject of her sex life didn’t come up.”

  “Damn.” Eli sipped his beer again. “She was always gorgeous. Too bad she was kind of in love with you.”

  Zach flinched, then tried to hide it and almost knocked over his soda. Eli had thought Leah was in love with him? That was crazy. And why hadn’t he ever mentioned it to him before? “Bullshit. Leah has better taste than that.” He’d never told Eli about what had happened on Leah’s eighteenth birthday. So he didn’t need Eli poking around the subject.

  “Maybe,” Eli said. “So, is she still gorgeous?”

  “Wherever your train of thought is going, I suggest you change tracks,” Zach said, the words far closer to a growl than he intended.

  Eli’s brows lifted. “Why? You want to visit that station yourself?” He smirked at Zach, saluting him with the beer.

  “No!” Zach straightened. “That station deserves better than either of us. And, in case it has escaped your noticed, that station is a Cloud Bay station. Not going anywhere. So she doesn’t need to be derailed by either of us.”

  Eli held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Kidding. Mostly.” He frowned at Zach. “Either of us? Does that mean the thought has crossed your mind?”

  “No,” Zach said firmly. “Nor is it going to.”

  “Okay, then I guess you should tell me the rest of the story. Like why your encounter with the fair Leah has left you so cranky.”

  Zach blew out a breath. “Faith told her I was planning to record.”

  “Of course she did,” Eli said. “That was always gonna happen.”

  “So Leah asked me if she could produce for me. And I turned her down.” He shifted in his seat, hiding a wince as he remembered the hurt on her face again.

  “Huh. Didn’t see that one coming. Which was dumb. Totally should have seen that one coming. Do you mind if I ask why you turned her down?”

  “Firstly because you’re supposed to be producing for me.”

  “Not all the songs,” Eli said. “Billy is going out on tour in a few weeks. You won’t be done by then.”

  “You’re going with him?”

  “Yeah, he asked.” Eli shrugged. “If I don’t go with him, he’ll just be bugging me every day checking up on me.”

  “Is your ankle up to touring?”

  “Well, I don’t have to work sound if I don’t want to. And there are plenty of people around to carry my luggage and that kind of shit. Besides, it’s not like Billy travels by bus these days.”

  No, the days of any member of Blacklight needing to tour by bus to save money were long gone. It was more like private jets all the way.

  “So I can take it easy,” Eli continued. “Lounge by the pool of whatever hotel we happen to be staying at. Check out the shows. Sleep a lot.”

  “Wait, does that mean you’ll miss CloudFest?”

  Eli shook his head. “Nope. Billy made sure Erroneous structured the tour around it. He feels bad for missing last year … says he wants to try to get Faith to sing again.”

  Erroneous was the band Billy had joined after Grey had died and Blacklight disbanded. They played a brand of rock a lot heavier than Blacklight had, bordering on metal. He doubted Faith would want to sing any of their songs. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  “That’s what I told him. Apparently Ben had all sorts of enquiries for her after she sang with Danny at CloudFest last year. She turned ’em all down flat.”

  He hadn’t known that part. Ben Flaherty had been Blacklight’s manager. Still was, in as much as he helped Faith out dealing with the money side of managing their catalog. And people had been asking Ben about Faith? Fuck. Faith was a natural musician. Like him. Hell, she was a way better singer than him any day of the week. And the reason she’d never really done anything with her music, was him. He scowled.

  “Thinking about Leah again?” Eli asked with another grin.

  “Fuck off,” Zach said, trying to keep his tone light.

  “Not until you tell me why you said no.”

  “This is too important,” he said. “She’s a rookie.”

  “A rookie who was trained by her dad—and Sal’s one of the best sound guys out there—and has grown up living and breathing music production at the studio. Plus she’s produced bits and pieces here and there. I’ve heard some of it. She’s got a good ear. And good instincts.”
/>   Zach shook his head. “I’m sure she has. But I need more than good. I need superstar. This album has to fly. It’s the first impression I get to make with my own stuff. And who knows if Fringe Dweller will resurrect itself. I don’t want to find myself back on the hunt for a replacement gig.”

  “I think you’re a bit beyond that now. Plus, you’re forgetting the part where you actually don’t have to work.”

  “Tell me again about that part, Eli. Then tell me how you spend your days swanning around the world sipping cocktails like a trust fund baby. Oh right, you can’t. Because you’re either working for Billy or hustling your own stuff practically twenty-four seven.” The last part came out crankier sounding than he’d intended.

  Eli’s hands lifted again. “Dude. Chill. If you don’t want to work with Leah, then you don’t want to work with Leah. I think it’s a mistake, but it’s your career.” He eyed Zach cautiously. “Though if that’s the case, I think you need to think a little harder about why the fact you said ‘no’ to her has you so churned up.”

  Oh, no. He definitely wasn’t going to think too hard about that. Not beyond the part where it was going to piss Faith off when she found out about it. “She’s Faith’s best friend. Faith doesn’t need another reason to hate me right now.”

  “Well, that particular hole you dug for yourself, man. You’re going to have to figure out how to dig yourself right back out on your own.”

  “Faith likes you, you could put in a good word for me.”

  “Hmmm. Go poke the bear on your behalf? Especially when the bear now has a huge blond fiancé in tow? Somehow that just doesn’t sound like a fun time to me.” Eli grinned, waved his bandaged wrist. “I don’t need to add to my collection of these, thanks very much.”

  Zach couldn’t blame him for that attitude. “It was worth a shot.”

  “I’m sure Billy has a shovel somewhere.”

  “A shovel?”

  “To help with the digging yourself out part,” Eli said and then laughed as Zach pitched the bottle cap back at his head.

  chapter five

  “That’s some voice.”

  Leah jumped, her hand knocking one of the knobs on the mixer out of place. Zach. That was all she needed.

  She was already running on a night of broken sleep, having been too angry when she’d arrived home to do much more than toss and turn. Facing Zach again so soon was the last thing she needed. So what the hell was he doing here?

  It wasn’t as though they had anything to talk about.

  She reached to turn off the recording—Nessa having broken off mid note to wave her guitarist, Clay, over—and the sound from the booth, moved the knob back to position for the next take, and swiveled around in her chair to face him.

  “Yes. She can blow the roof off.” She narrowed her eyes. Why was he waltzing into her studio after telling her she wasn’t good enough for him last night?

  Her glare was wasted. Zach was staring through the glass at Nessa, who was talking with Clay, curls bouncing as she gestured enthusiastically and talked a mile a minute. He looked … impressed. He also looked good.

  Dammit.

  She was mad at him. She shouldn’t care what he looked like. She should be immune to his stupid charms. But he was kind of hard to ignore. His jeans were battered and torn—and not the kind that came that way from the store—and he wore a T-shirt that had seen better days and his hair was all over the place and he still looked like he should be on a billboard or a magazine cover.

  She, on the other hand, looked like normal everyday Leah. Jeans. Converse. T-shirt that was hopefully unstained with coffee. She glanced down at her chest. Yep. Stain free. And at least she hadn’t worn yoga pants to work today.

  “Who is she?” Zach asked, tipping his chin toward the booth.

  “That’s Nessa Lewis.”

  He looked blank. “Should I know her?”

  Leah stared up at him. “Are you kidding me?”

  “What?”

  “She’s the first singer Faith’s been working with for her new foundation.”

  Zach hitched a shoulder. She took that as musician code for “Nah, I got nothing.”

  Okay, so maybe Faith was right and Zach was just another self-absorbed wannabe rock star these days. Maybe she’d dodged a bullet last night. “Wow. I knew she was pissed with you but you two really haven’t been talking, have you? Or have you just not been paying attention?” The last part came out sharper than she’d intended. She took a breath, rubbing at the bare place on her finger where her wedding and engagement rings used to be. She couldn’t afford to get into an argument with Zach with a roomful of musicians standing just a few feet away, separated only by glass. She doubled-checked that the intercom was off.

  “I know she started another foundation. And that she’s running a development program for female musicians. I just didn’t remember the chick’s name.”

  “Chick?” Ugh. “Double wow.” She didn’t know exactly what to say. Everything lingering on the tip of her tongue was bound to start the fight she really didn’t want to have. Too much chance of saying things she couldn’t risk saying to him if they had a real argument.

  “Are you mad that I didn’t know her name or that I turned you down last night?”

  “Triple wow.” She gritted her teeth, then forced herself to relax. “And you know, right now, Zach, three wows and you’re out. I’m kind of busy here.”

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Well, I don’t particularly want to talk to you right now. So, please go.” She made a shooing motion toward the door to emphasize the words.

  Zach stayed right where he was. “Why not?”

  “Leaving aside last night? There’s the fact that Faith’s my best friend. You haven’t exactly been setting yourself up to win any brother-of-the-year awards over the last few years. You hurt her. So you figure it out.” She rubbed her thumb over the base of her ring finger again.

  “No rings, huh?” Zach said. “I heard you got divorced.”

  “You remembered that but you didn’t know the name of Faith’s protégé?” She wondered who he did keep in touch with on the island. Lou—Faith’s mom and his step-mom—she supposed. Mina, knowing Mina. Some of the other kids he’d gone to school with, maybe? All of whom were well aware that Zach and Faith weren’t talking. So maybe it made sense that they’d stick to island news and not get in the middle of anything by talking about Faith to him. Though that also meant he hadn’t asked about Faith either.

  “I’ve been busy,” Zach said. “Touring a lot.”

  “Like father, like son.”

  Zach frowned, gaze sharpening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know exactly what it means.” She swiveled back to the mixer, trying to keep her temper in check. She had a job to do and it didn’t involve Zach Harper. Far better to focus on the musicians who were thrilled to be working with her. Inside the booth, Nessa and the guys were milling around in a way that suggested they were ready to go again. She hit the intercom. “Another take?” Nessa looked around, then nodded. She and the band began to move back to their places as Leah switched the intercom off again.

  “Can that wait a minute? I really need to talk to you,” Zach said.

  She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. “I’m working. These guys are working. You, on the other hand, are not. You already made it clear you don’t want to work with me. So you can wait until I’m done. Preferably somewhere else.” She turned back to watch the band settling into their places. She ran an eye over the mixer. Everything looked good.

  “You know, technically, I own part of this place,” Zach said. “That makes me your boss.”

  “Faith’s my boss,” Leah replied. “If you have a complaint about my attitude, you can talk to her. Tell her I have a complaint about yours while you’re at it.”

  “C’mon, Leah, I was joking.”

  “Well, maybe I just don’t find you very funny,” she said, giving Ness
a a thumbs-up through the window. She hit record as the singer stepped up to her mic. “And maybe you should go wait out in the foyer. This is a private session, after all. Nessa’s new at this and she doesn’t need any distractions.”

  “Am I a distraction?” Zach asked.

  He was smiling, she could tell from his voice. Trying to charm her. Well, she wasn’t in the mood to be charmed. She wasn’t going to so much as look around.

  “Not to me,” she said as she turned her attention to the music.

  * * *

  Zach strode out of the recording booth, annoyed. Though mostly with himself. He’d convinced himself that Leah would be okay after she’d had nearly twenty-four hours to cool down. He’d been wrong.

  At this point, a smart man would probably retreat and try to redo the whole conversation tomorrow.

  The main problem with that theory was that he didn’t think that Leah would be any happier with him tomorrow. And that apparently he wasn’t so smart.

  He rolled his shoulders. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. He didn’t need the big studio yet. He had Grey’s. He just needed to work his way into his songs down there. Get used to the idea that he was finally going to do this.

  He was halfway down the hall that led to the front of the building when the door at its far end swung open and Faith walked through, balancing a bakery box on one hand. She stopped when she saw him, looking startled.

  “Zach,” she said warily.

  “Faith,” he said back, mimicking her tone. He wasn’t really in the mood for another argument.

  “What are you doing here?” she said. Absently she set the box down on the long counter that ran along half the hallway. The rest of the surface was covered with empty coffee mugs, neatly piled stacks of mics and cables, abandoned magazines, and all the other crap musicians left behind during the day. Faith didn’t seem to notice any of that. She just opened the box and withdrew a doughnut, biting into it. The smell that wafted over to him was amazing.

  “Can I have one of those?” he asked.