Chapter Four
Zoe
“Hey, darling.” My mother holds my shoulder as she kisses my cheek. “You look gorgeous in that swimsuit and cover-up.” We’re standing inside the resort dining room as the wait staff scurries around, bringing the other customer’s food to their tables. The place smells like heaven, with the prominent scent of chicken and brown sugar.
“Thank you.” I return her greeting and step back to get a clear view of her. “You look gorgeous as well.”
She looks stunning, with her long black hair trailing down her back. Even though she’s in her 40s and is the mother of two adult children, and one 7-year-old, she looks much younger. We’ve always been close, and that didn’t change after her divorce from my father or after her marriage to Landon. I’ve always been tight with all my family. Even if my brother is an insensitive asshole, who enjoys jabbering on about Jace’s conquests. Or what should have been conquests.
Does it help to discover he has performance issues? Yeah, actually, that does help.
After the party pickle and the double condom guy, I wouldn’t want to move on to the failure-to-perform guy. It’s better to find out now that he’s a disappointment in the sack than to have discovered the man I’ve held on a pedestal for far too many years suffers from erectile dysfunction.
As my brother touted, at least he had a wingman to clean up his messes.
I settle back on my heels. Party pickle and double condom guy should have had wingmen. Maybe then, I could’ve had an orgasm.
“Thank you.” A flush settles across her cheeks.
“Zoe!” My little sister–half-sister–Zorya’s voice comes from behind us. I spin around and swing her off her feet. “Hello, beautiful. How’s my shining star?” My mom held true to the letter Z when Zorya was born. She said she wanted her children to have unusual names because there were three Carly’s in her class. Carly J. Carly M. Carly June. She was Carly June.
“Great.” She giggles and splays her arms out as I swing her in a circle. She clamors back down to her sandal-covered feet and glances around the room. “Where’s Zayden?”
“He’ll be here in a minute. I’m sure.” My mom squeezes her shoulder. “I saw him on the phone in the hallway.”
“And Uncle Jace?”
“There he is.” My mom points at the doorway as Jace breezes into the room. His stance is rigid as he avoids my gaze, but when he sees Zorya, his face lights up.
“There’s my favorite girl.”
She runs full speed to him and crashes against his body as he lifts her up, swinging her off the ground. “I missed you.” She cups his face with her pudgy hands.
“I missed you too. What’ve you been doing?”
“I’ve been swimming at the pool, eating pizza, and playing with my dolls. And….”
“He’s so good with her,” my mom sighs. “It warms my heart to see them together, although, it’s not nearly as often as I’d like. He’s so gentle with her and will play with her for hours.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Did I tell you about the last time he was in town?”
“No.” I grit my teeth together. If this includes a recap of his sexcapades with anyone, I’m going to hurl all over her leopard print cover-up.
“I was sick, and Landon had to work, so he spent the entire day playing Barbies, baby dolls, and dressing up.” She laughs. “He even wore a tutu and sang to her.” I can’t stand looking at him anymore, so I turn sideways to block them from my view. My mom sighs with a wistful look on her face. “He sings like an angel, don’t you think?”
“Yes, he does.” I’d be a fool to disagree with her. He does have a beautiful voice, but he’s an asshole.
“I wish he hadn’t surrounded himself with losers that couldn’t get it together long enough to get a record label.”
“Mom, I need to go.”
She tilts her head sideways. “Where do you have to go?”
Anywhere but here. Home. Antarctica. A black hole. “I need to call Daisy.”
“Isn’t she busy at Julia’s wedding?”
“Yes. It’ll just be a minute. I’ll be right back.” I speed walk across the dining room and into the hallway where the bathroom is located. What can I do to get out of this trip from hell? Stomach flu? Can I claim I have intestinal distress and hide in my room for a week? What would that do for me? He’s in my bungalow.
I snatch my phone out of my little black purse and dial Daisy. One ring. Two. Three. Four. Her answering service kicks on. “Thanks for leaving me in hell. My family is a mess. Zayden can’t stop blabbing about Jace’s erectile dysfunction–”
“I don’t have erectile dysfunction.”
“Shit!” I jump and lurch sideways, falling into the wall as I spin on my heel. Son of a bitch. Jace leans his shoulder against the doorframe next to the women’s room with an anguished expression. I was so deep in my head that I didn’t realize he was following me.
Thank God I didn’t say anything about how many times I wished I was with him rather than the last guy I was with. But now I know he wouldn’t have any better luck at getting me off than the party pickle guy did. Maybe I should give up on men and date women. At least a woman would know where the clitoris and G spot are without a roadmap. And everyone knows men don’t read maps or ask for directions.
I stifle a snort and click the phone off, shoving it back into my bag. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” I take a step toward the bathroom, intent on brushing past him.
“Both those nights, I was dealing with….” He clears his throat. “Difficult life situations and wasn’t in the mood to party or have sex.”
I snap my head around and glare at him. “So, my brother made you put your dick in some random groupie’s vagina? That’s about as believable as ‘I tripped, and it slipped inside.’”
“That’s not what happened.”
“You were crying too hard over losing Samantha that you couldn’t get it up?” Jealousy shoots arrows of pain through my brain. I hated Samantha with every fiber of my body. She was the other lead vocalist in his original band. The songs he wrote about her haunting beauty. The tragic pain in his voice. The declarations of love. All of it was written for her. And she tossed it all in his face and married their bass player.
He shakes his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.”
I watch him as he disappears back into the dining room. The muscles in his back bunch and roll under his skintight T-shirt as he moves like he’s a caged animal ready to pounce and destroy the next person who makes the mistake of talking to him.
What’s wrong with me? Why am I so drawn to the damaged musician? Why do I have this savior complex like I’m going to erase all his pain, and he’s going to shout his never-ending love for me, and then write sweet songs about growing old together and watching our family expand. And let’s not forget that each song hits the Billboard Top 10. And that he worships me for believing in him when no one else did.
God, I sound like an idiot and have obviously spent way too much time fantasizing about him.
Fifteen minutes later, I’d wallowed in my depression long enough and made to rejoin our group. My mother invited two other couples from their friend group, and one of their daughters tagged along with them.
I stop in mid-step a few yards from the table. The only available space is between my mom and Jace as Zorya bounces in her seat, talking about something she saw on TV. And he has the audacity to appear intrigued. How does he pull that off?
I settle in between them while attempting to adjust the chair toward my mom. But as I shift in the seat, my thigh brushes against his, and he responds by scraping the feet of his chair on the floor and moving away from me. “Sorry.”
“I don’t have leprosy,” I mutter as much to myself as him.
“And I don’t have performance issues,” he growls.
“Fine.” Every muscle in my body is taut with tension.
“I’m serious.”
“I don’t want to hear about it.” I snatch my tea glass from across the table and take a couple of sips. I’m not thirsty but I need to do something with my hands. That’s not good enough. Where’s the waitress? I need something with a little more bite than tea.
“Jace?” My stepfather leans in front of my mom and studies Jace as Zayden chats with the two couples at the other end of the table.
“Yes?”
“When we talked earlier, I forgot to ask if you were seeing someone.”
“I’m not dating anyone.” He straightens his back as his jaw clenches and doesn’t unclench.
“Why not?” My mom’s eyebrows arch upward. “You’d make a fantastic husband and father, and it’s time you settled down.”
I’m so tired of listening to everyone talk about Jace and other women. “I thought Dad was supposed to be here.” Even though I’m not looking at Jace, I feel the vibration of his body shift. Stop. Stop trying to read his moods and fix the man. He’s none of your damned business.
“He won’t be here until later in the week.”
“Oh?” I frown. “He hadn’t said anything to me about it at work.”
My dad gave me a job at his record label after I graduated from college, and I love it. I’ve been obsessed with the music industry since I was a child and spent hours at the studio when my father would bring in talent for auditions. And I’d stuck around ever since, learning everything I could during the summers and after classes got out during the year.
“Your father had a last-minute meeting that came up.” My mom fans her face as if she’s hot, but the room has a solid air conditioning system. “And Hollis didn’t want to join us without him.”
My dad married Hollis and had my half-sister, Lilith, less than a year after splitting from my mom. Clearly, my father didn’t have the same fascination with the letter Z. No one has ever said, but my guess is that my father and Hollis had seen each other before my parents even separated. But Hollis is a wonderful woman, and she’s better suited for my dad than my mom was.
My mom is a confident, independent woman, and my dad likes to boss people around. They didn’t mesh well after a while, but they get along much better now that they aren’t a couple.
“Sing it!” Zorya teases Jace from her position beside him where she’s been monopolizing his time. “Sing it!”
“As you wish, princess.” He smiles at her. “You are my sunshine. My only sunshine….” His velvet-smooth voice sends a shiver along my spine as my sister giggles uncontrollably. “You make me happy.”
The hairs on my arms stand as the room grows quiet, and everyone listens to his rendition of the song. His voice goes lower, making the walls of my sex clench. Lord, I need a fire extinguisher.
When he finishes, the room erupts in clapping, and Zorya throws herself into his arms.
That’s how he does it. He sings in the dirtiest, sweetest voice while looking like sin wrapped in chocolate and topped with sprinkles, causing panties to combust, ovaries to pop, and women to feel like they’re the only person in the room.
And then they don’t care whether he can perform or not. They want to be the one he serenades. His face softens as he tickles Zorya’s belly. I shake my head and stab a piece of fried plantain. I’m no different than the rest.