Beautiful Scars (2 page)

“Hmmm.” Chaili settled back against the wall, recalling how Marc had looked earlier. Well, other than gorgeous. He always looked gorgeous. With that blacker-than-black hair, the perpetual five o’clock shadow, the elegant, almost beautiful lines of his face…and those hands… She managed, just barely to swallow her sigh before it escaped.

“Would you quit that already?”

Jerking her head up, she found Shera looking at her. “Quit what?”

“You’re thinking about my brother again.” Shera made a face. “If you’re going to think about him that much, just ask him out, damn it.”

Chaili grimaced. She’d tried that. Three times. Failed. Three times. Wasn’t going to try for a fourth failure. Forcing herself to smile easily, she shrugged. “Sweetheart, I’ve tried that and it didn’t take. He’s not interested. Besides, half the females between fourteen and forty-five probably think about your brother at some point in their lives. Deal with it.”

“It’s a little bit different when the woman
knows
him.” She gave Chaili a pointed stare. “You do. You didn’t go and turn him into a sex object.”

“Your brother was born a sex object,” she said, trying to keep the subject lighter than it really was. No. Marc wasn’t a sex object for her. He was her everything. And he had no interest in her at all. That was life. “So, what did the sex object want?”

“I’m going to hit you. Just so you know.” Shera sighed and tucked her hair behind one ear, reaching for the bag of coffee beans. Once she had another pot brewing, she walked over to the table, dropped into the seat and promptly thunked her head on the table. “He needs a date.”

Chaili’s jaw dropped.

She was still staring at her best friend as the woman thunked her head two or three more times.

By the fourth time, the words had penetrated. In sympathy for the headache Shera was going to give herself, she went over to the table, and before Shera could bang her head a fifth time, she caught the woman’s shoulders. “Your brother wants to use the service?” she asked.

That just didn’t seem to mesh. Settling into the seat next Shera, she studied the brunette.

“Why in the world would he want to use the service?”

Shera closed her eyes and slumped in the seat. “Don’t worry about it, Chaili. It’s a complicated mess but I’ll work it out.”

“Too complicated to tell me?” She nudged Shera with her shoulder. “I’m your best friend, right? It’s not like I’m going to sell the story to
The Sun
or
People
or
The National Enquirer
.” She stopped, pursed her lips. “Well, I could sell it to
The National Enquirer
. It’s not like I don’t need the money. I’d have to slum it up a little. You know…alien babies, Elvis was seen at his house, that sorta thing.”

Shera tipped her head back, laughing. “Yeah. That might work.” Sighing, she said, “Look, Marc’s dating thing is…well, like I said—complicated, okay? He just prefers to use the service because it’s a little less…” Abruptly, Shera snapped her mouth shut. “Never mind.”

But Chaili was already gaping at her. “He
prefers
to use the service…you mean this isn’t the first time you’ve set him up on a date?”

Shera stood. “I’m probably going to be late getting home. Maybe we should do pizza tomorrow instead.”

They had a standing date for pizza on Fridays, although if one of them had a date, they moved it. Usually it was Shera who had the date. Chaili thought she might have had a date sometime around the last ice age. No…wait. There had been a few after her spectacular failure of a marriage.

Just a few. But she preferred to block that period of her life out.

Realizing her chance to pry loose some details about Marc was about to walk out the door, Chaili jumped up and jogged over to the door, all but barring Shera’s way. “Let me do it.”

“Do what?”

Chaili just stared at her friend, crossing her arms over her chest.

Finally, it clicked and Chaili watched as Shera’s mouth dropped open. “You’re not serious.”

Her instinct was to hunch up her shoulders. Instead, she gave a half shrug. “Hey, why not? It’s not like I don’t know how to talk to him.”

“
He
won’t be the problem. He’s going to a big party thing up on the Mile.”

Chaili arched her brows. “I’ve been to parties up on the Mile before,” she drawled. More than she cared to count. Cocking her head, she smiled. “If that’s the plan for the night, I’d actually be perfect. I know how to make small talk. I can dress up all nice and pretty and Marc knows me.”

That was all Shera’s service provided, really. Companionship, conversation. Chaili could chat pretty damn well, if she had to, and she could also dress up pretty. She had a few pieces—a very few, that would work for a party on the Mile.

Shera hesitated.

“Come on. Let me help you with this,” she said.

“Not a good idea, sweetie.” Shera edged around her, heading back to her office.

“Why not?” She strolled along after Shera, her longer legs keeping up with Shera’s fast strides easily. She wanted to do this, damn it. It was just a date. One date. She could have one date with him, right?

“It’s just not.” Back in her office, Shera dropped into her seat and glanced up at Chaili. “I’m going to be busy for a while. I need to go through my files and figure out who isn’t going to drive him totally insane.”

“Why?
I
would work.”

“No.” Shera glared at her. “Damn it, Chaili, I know you’ve got a thing for him, but it won’t work. Trust me, the two of you would have…incompatibilities.”

Incompatibilities
. Chaili sighed. “Look, I’m not asking you to arrange a marriage. It’s just a date. He needs somebody for the party, right?” Forcing herself to smile, she shrugged. “Why not me?”

The two women just stared at each other as seconds ticked away and finally Shera groaned. “Shit. Fine. All right. I’m being stupid, anyway. It’s a date and you’re right. You’re probably the best qualified to go out with him, considering the only other women I’d trust to do it are already booked. The others…” She trailed off, grimacing. “They’d love to do it and then they’d see who he was, try to get his pants off and then despite the confidentiality clause, they’d blab their mouth. I’d have my hands full shutting their traps and…”

“Shera…?”

Shera snapped her mouth shut.

Chaili smiled. She absolutely was
not
going to say that she’d love to get into Marc’s pants. She wasn’t going to say it. She might think it. She might dream about it.
Often
. But she wasn’t going to say it. And even if that miracle ever happened, she’d sure as hell never blab about it.

“So…what all am I supposed to do?”

“You really want to do this.”

Settling into the chair across from the desk, Chaili tried not to look too eager. That wouldn’t be good. At all. Crossing one leg over the other, she smiled. “Sure. It’s not like we can’t order pizza tomorrow. And I like Marc.”

Love him. I’ve always loved him…

Shera stared at her, grim-faced, but although she might have seen straight through Chaili’s lie, she didn’t call her on it. Instead, she bent down, opened a drawer. Ten seconds later, Chaili found herself staring at a contract.

“Sign it.”

Chaili arched her brows. “Seriously?”

With a narrow look, Shera leaned forward. “Yes. If you’re doing this, you’re doing it by the book…including the contract. You’ll get the standard fee, because
yes
, the few times he’s come through here and needed to use the place, he has paid. It’s all on the up-and-up and you know I don’t allow any bullshit in my place. That goes for you too. If you’re serious about doing this, sign the damn contract.”

Chaili rolled her eyes. And as she reached for the pen, she hoped her fingers weren’t shaking.

“Now, what do you have to wear?”

Chapter Two

At the piano, head bent, Marc lost himself to the music.

Once upon a time, he’d let himself get lost in other places, hadn’t worried about anything but the moment. He’d just…lived.

The last time had been years ago—it had ended with Lily. He didn’t let himself think about her often, because that had been a hot fucking mess. They’d worked together—she’d been his manager for years and they’d been friends.

Then he’d been stupid enough to let it become something more. He’d thought it was all just fine too. Six good months. Actually, six wonderful months, then he’d walked in and found her in a rather compromising position—her on her knees with her mouth wrapped around another man’s dick, her hands tied behind her back. It wasn’t the position he minded—but the fact that she’d been going down on another man, well, that posed a problem. And the guy had also been a friend of his.

Both of them had tried to convince him he’d taken it too personally.

Then Lily had tried to convince him that if he walked…

The music broke around him and he stopped, closed his eyes and let his hands rest on the keys for a minute. This was why he didn’t let himself think about that. It wasn’t even that she’d fucked around on him. He’d been cheated on before. It sucked and he hated it, but he could have handled that.

It was what she’d tried to do after.

How messed up things had gotten.

That was why he didn’t let himself go anymore. It just wasn’t safe.

Better off not to lose himself like that anymore. Unless it was the music. He could trust the music.

Clearing his mind, he focused on the song he could
almost
hear in his mind. The melody was clearer now, and it came easily. The words, though, he was still waiting on them.

Inner demon

How you fight…

Another line of it came to him and he stopped playing to jot it down before going back to the keys. Before another sixty seconds passed, his phone beeped. His connection to the world, that stupid thing. Sometimes he hated it. Mostly he needed it. Ilona kept it up to date, all his appointments and everything programmed into the calendar. If he didn’t have something to remind him where he was supposed to be and what he needed to be doing, he’d be screwed.

Although he’d rather not remember he had plans for tonight.

Fuck the party.

So what if his manager thought he should go to that damn party? Bryan had taken over Lily’s job a few years ago, and Marc had to admit, the guy did a good job. He knew what he was doing, business-wise.

He was okay. Marc liked him. The guys from the band liked him. He generally knew what he was talking about, too, when it was came to the PR shit. A few weeks ago Bryan had called him—there was a benefit going on for autism and Marc should go. Marc would rather not go to any damn party and had tried to just send a donation, but that wasn’t what Bryan wanted. So Marc was going to the damn benefit. The one thing about the party that didn’t entirely suck—it was being thrown by another friend, Caleb Wickham. Seeing Caleb wouldn’t be bad and at least the guy didn’t throw boring parties.

But Marc would much rather stay home.

If he’d known how things were going to turn out—Selene dropping him at the last minute, hell… He would have told Bryan to shove the benefit up his ass.

Even with a date lined up from his sister’s service, the night was going to be a pain in the ass. Staying at home sounded so much better. He could work on his music. Maybe even just go over to Shera’s.

A faint smile curled his lips as he pushed back from the piano. It was Friday, after all. That meant only one thing—pizza and movies.

Chaili.

He should have at least said hi to her earlier. She’d disappeared before he had a chance, but he’d been irritated, frustrated, pissed off. By the time he’d gotten around to thinking about anything more than the fiasco that was sure to happen tonight, he’d already been five miles away.

He’d been in town for four days and he hadn’t even called her to say hi. They never talked anymore and he missed her. Hell, if he had half a brain, he should have just thought about it and called her for tonight. It didn’t have to be a date. He just needed a woman with him at the party, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to breathe, or move. The last time he’d gone to a party solo, one woman had actually paid a cab driver to follow him to his hotel and she’d tried to bribe the people at the front desk.

Marc had actually been standing a few feet behind her—he’d managed to deactivate his damn keycard and needed another one. Lucky him, because the hundred-dollar bill the girl had pushed toward the guy behind the desk had apparently looked enticing. Although it might have been the D cups she’d been flashing.

Scowling at the memory, he headed into the bedroom to check his reflection one more time. Thanks to his assistant, he didn’t have to worry about just wearing T-shirts, jeans, and black or red nonstop. His sister and a few others knew he was color-blind.

Personally, he figured
color deficient
or something would be more accurate. He could see plenty of colors. Reds were awesome. He could see them just fine. Blues worked. He liked blue too. Oranges, though, they blended to red for him. Yellows were a mess, and so was green. Greens all blurred into blue for him.

It didn’t matter personally to him and it wasn’t a big deal, the way he saw it. Yeah, he’d had some trouble in school with it until he’d picked up on the variation in hue and brightness. Plus,
reading
the color on the crayons and shit had helped.