She nodded and went back to typing at her computer.

“Ok. Thanks.” I looked out the window at the impossible blue sky and lonely cargo ship floating in the bay. My mind zoned out as I prepared for a long wait.

“Ms. Lowell?”

My mind snapped into focus

“Ms. Timmons will see you now.”

Finally.

The secretary held open the door for me and I entered, getting my first look at the inner sanctum of Black Cat’s CEO. Pretty impressive. The huge corner suite filled with dark, ornate furnishings felt very old world. Outside the windows, English Bay played the role of moat for Mary Timmons’ castle.

Hopefully the Queen wasn’t about to send me to the gallows.

The brunette sat at her throne, intimidating as ever, with her hands steepled together in front of her while she stared at me.

I took a seat in one of the chairs and stared right back at her across the imposing desk. The new Lace, the one who had cheated death, didn’t take shit from anyone. After all what could this lady really do to me? I didn’t need anything from her.

I slid the bulky envelope out of the inside pocket of my pea coat and placed it on the desk in front of her.

“That’s the cash from the signing bonus, less the 20K for rehab. But I intend to pay every penny back.” My fingers gripped the inflexible wood armrests on my chair. “I took that money under false pretenses. That doesn’t gel with who I am now or at least with the person I intend to become. So I wanted to offer you an apology.”

Looking astonished, her gaze flicked to the envelope and then back to me. Ok, admittedly I began to squirm just a bit. She hadn’t said a word yet. The woman had the intimidation routine down to a scary ass science. I could definitely learn a few things from her.

Head tilting slightly to the side, Mary leaned back in her chair, still every inch in control of this meeting. But I sensed a subtle softening in her manner. Or then again maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part.

“You’re done with the drugs, then?” she asked bluntly.

I was a bit surprised by this question. That she would even ask, I mean why would she believe me? I’d lied to her before. But I owed her the truth. “It was a real struggle at first, but it’s gotten easier.” The drugs had been an escape from an out of control life, and now that my life was going where I wanted it to, I didn’t crave them anymore…not as much anyway. “Three weeks sober,” I said proudly. “Six if you count rehab.”

“I would definitely count it.”

What was her deal? I’d given her the money back. Why wasn’t she saying anything about that? Underneath the weight of that steely stare of hers, I found myself rambling. “It’ll take me a while to pay back the rest. I mean, I didn’t realize how much everything costs up here in Canada.” My waitress salary didn’t go very far. It barely paid the bills. If Dizzy hadn’t insisted on paying for my first year, I don’t think I’d ever have been able to save up enough to attend fashion school.

“You’re living here in Vancouver?”

“Yes. I need a fresh start and I don’t want to be back in Seattle where I might be tempted to fall back in with my old crowd.”

“Lace Lowell.” A regal brow rose. “You impress me.”

Really?

“It’s been a long time since anyone’s done that,” she said softly, reaching for the envelope. She opened up a drawer and tossed it inside without checking the contents. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’ll come into the studio ten to three Monday through Friday. I want you doing some studio vocals. You’ll work with our voice coach. Then…”

“I can’t,” I interrupted.

“Pardon me.”

“I can’t.” I repeated despite the glare that said, “Off with her head.” I’d better make my case before any blood got spilled. “I waitress in the day, and I’m taking night classes at the Centre.”

Her eyes narrowed in surprise. “The Blanche MacDonald Centre?”

I nodded. “I’m working on a degree in design.”

“What about your contract, Lace?”

“If I’m not mistaken, I voided that with the drug use.” I sat up a little straighter. “Frankly, I thought you’d be glad to be rid of me. Lost cause and all.”

“I thought you told me your dream was to be a singer. Was that another misrepresentation, too?”

“No. That’s what I said. I just think fashion’s the better choice for me.” I sighed, wondering where she was going with this.

Her lips flattened and her fingers steepled together again. “The better choice or the safer choice?” Her eyes held mine in a tight grip.

Damn. This woman was perceptive as shit. Neither Bryan nor my brother, who knew me extremely well, had asked me that. “Music has always been my first love,” I said without hesitation. “But…”

“No buts.” She stopped me with a precision hand slice. “The way I see it, there’s no reason you can’t do both.” My eyes widened while she kept on talking. “They might even mesh really well together. Image is such a big part of the music business. I’m sure you realize that quite a few entertainers have their own fashion lines.”

That would be so cool.

“You’ll have to quit the waitressing, obviously. Unless you’re in love with that career path, too?”

I glanced up. Was she teasing me? Mary Timmons? I shook my head.

“That was a rhetorical question. I’m glad to know you’re on board with my plan.” She picked up her cell, sliding her fingers quickly across the screen. “Beth…No. I wasn’t calling about the Tempest thing. I haven’t made a decision about that yet.”

Whoosh. At just the mention, my memory hauled ass right back to that night in Orlando. I felt the familiar ache in my chest. The sutures on my heart were holding so far, but the prognosis was still day to day. I missed Bry constantly.

What good was a new life without him to share it with?

I let out a weary sigh, refocusing on Mary’s phone conversation.

“Yes. She’s here in my office now. I’m sending her right over. Take her to HR. I’m bringing her on as a part time employee.” Her eyes hit mine. “Four hours a day ok with you? Twenty thousand for the first six months.”

Heck yeah, I’d take it.

Numbly, I nodded. There was no way in hell I could even come close to that amount working for tips. Mary spun her chair away. Thinking I’d been dismissed, I started to stand. She swiveled back, holding up a finger. “One more thing, Lace.”

“Yes.” I gulped, my stomach doing a little nauseating side shimmy.

“Where are you staying?’

“A hostel on Pender Street.”

Mary frowned. “That’s not a very good part of town.” That was a total understatement. The place made the Avenue look like Disneyworld. She opened up her desk drawer, pulled out a couple of business cards, and handed them to me. “One of those is for a driver I keep on call. The other is for the manager at Sutton Place. I don’t want you wasting what little free time you’re going to have on public transportation, and I want you sleeping in a safe place.”

“Ok,” I managed, trying to take it all in.

“You’ll like the Sutton. It’s convenient and in a nice neighborhood only a couple of blocks from your school.” My deer in the headlights look must’ve registered with her. Her face softened.

Why hadn’t I ever noticed how beautiful she was before?

“I’m not going to sugar coat it. Working out this schedule is going to be a challenge, but one I think you can handle.” She shook her head. “I’ve seen a lot in this business, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like you. Showing up at my office three weeks in a row (so she had known) shows you have courage and mental toughness. Bringing the money back and owning up to your mistakes demonstrates integrity on your part.” She stood and held out her hand. I grasped it. “You have talent, too. I’m really looking forward to seeing what you do next.”

39

Holding the guitar by the neck, I slammed it into the wall, grunting with satisfaction when it splintered apart in my hands. Letting go where it joined the body, I watched it drop to the carpet, ruined like my life without her.

I’ve done all the waiting I’m gonna do.

What an arrogant ass I’d been.

I swiped my beer off the table and sagged into the chair. I drained it, settled back, and closed my eyes. Alone with my thoughts, and they were all of her.

What was she doing? And who was she with?

I felt completely empty without her, a brittle burned out husk. It was all wrong. Nothing made sense anymore.

“Bry? Are you ok? I heard a noise.”

“Yeah, Mom.” I turned to see her stick her head into the doorway to the garage which I had converted into a studio. “Is it alright if I come in?”

“Sure.” I ran a hand through my hair. “You don’t have to ask. This is your house. I bought it for you. I just put the studio in so I had somewhere to practice whenever I’m around.”

“I know.” She pulled out a chair and sat beside me. Concerned eyes flicked to the broken guitar before they scanned my face. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t.”

“Bryan Hunter Jackson. I’m your mother. That’s not an option.” Her hands went to her hips. “I want to know when you’re planning to stop moping around and take charge of your life again.”

I didn’t respond because I knew she was right.

She scooted her chair closer, smoothing out the apron she wore over her scrubs. She must’ve just gotten home from work. Her hand dropped down on top of mine. “What are you going to do about Warren?”

“What can I do, Mom?”

“You’ve been friends a long time.”