Chapter Ten
Ten
“Never saw a woman on the back of Keys’ bike,” a tall, dark-haired man said. “Have to admit, I didn’t believe it when the rumors started flying around.”
Lyric wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Keys, however, had no such trouble. He stuck his middle finger in the air. “Fuck you, Maestro.”
Maestro’s grin widened. “Fell like a ton of bricks, didn’t you, oh mighty one.”
“Keep it up, brother. I’ve got a gun.”
She could tell the two men were tight. She kept her hand on the seat of the bike while she made certain she tuned in to exactly the right energy between them.
She was good at reading everyone around her, and Maestro was happy for Keys.
He might tease him mercilessly, but he was happy for him.
On the other hand, when Maestro looked at her with his smile of supposed welcome, his eyes were hard and flat. Judging.
Lyric was used to that. She didn’t fit. She had tried to tell Keys it wouldn’t be so easy, but he couldn’t hear her.
She completely understood Maestro’s concerns, his complete rejection of her as the only woman for Keys.
She also knew she’d been right all along, and Torpedo Ink was a closed club.
The members were tight, but they had very little room for anyone else.
She knew what to do; she’d trained for times like this her entire life. She knew fake Lyric far better than she knew the real one. She was good at fake Lyric. She was so good at that version of herself that sometimes she thought that was who she was.
“Lyric, this is Maestro. One of my brothers,” Keys introduced them.
Fortunately, two more men in Torpedo Ink cuts were coming up the walkway toward them, and his attention was on those two men, not fully on her.
“Master and Player,” Keys said softly to her.
Master was tall and ripped, with blue eyes and dark hair. He was intimidating because he was quite muscular. Player’s long brown hair was streaked with white. He wore a short dark beard and mustache and had blue eyes. Lyric took both men in with one quick glance.
She looked directly at Maestro, keeping her gaze right at his nose so it looked as if she was being friendly.
She even put on her friendly mask. She gave him her salon smile.
“Very happy to meet you,” she said, keeping her voice low and sociable.
She called that her salon voice. She had a way of getting customers to talk to her, just using that voice.
The more talking they did, the less she had to do, but they always went away feeling as if they knew her and they were great friends.
She didn’t want to disappoint Keys, but there was no other way for her to manage his family other than the way she’d been coping her entire life. She appeared open and innocent of all guile. Just a nice woman intent on finding an empty building so maybe she could set up a business there.
She tugged on the hem of her jacket, knowing it swallowed her, making her feel even more her authentic self. “Keys has told me a little about his friends. You must do building with him. He always gets animated when he talks about anything to do with architecture.”
Maestro gave a careless little shrug. “We do some building. Nothing to write home about, but we get by.”
Ah, the gold digger. She didn’t have a persona for that version of Lyric. It hadn’t occurred to her to create one. She’d never taken anything from anyone, not since she was abandoned to that group home, where she didn’t fit in.
For a moment, pain flashed sharp and terrible and so deep she felt as if she were torn in two, but she shut it down.
Shoved it aside. She’d known. She’d told Keys.
The last six months of her life, with him in it, made it worthwhile.
He was worth it. Even though he was wrong, he believed he was right about her—about them.
That didn’t make him cruel and monstrous, it made him human.
Keys came around the bike and swept her under his shoulder in a claiming gesture.
She stayed relaxed and kept her gaze fixed on a spot between the two newcomers, her open, friendly smile plastered on her face.
She didn’t quite know what to do with Keys holding her against him in front of everyone.
It was easier to maintain social Lyric when she stood alone.
“Player and Master.” Keys indicated the two men. “Player’s wife, Zyah, runs the Caspar Market.” They were standing in front of the Caspar grocery store. “She’s very efficient when it comes to running a business, so if you ever need help, she’ll be right across the street.”
The men gave her the same greeting and look that Maestro had.
They didn’t trust her or her motives for being with Keys.
They knew him better than anyone. She wasn’t his type.
That was clear, and the three men knew it.
She wasn’t in the least bit his type. She’d seen him with dozens of women and not a single one had looked like her.
They all had very, very generous curves.
They were tall enough to come up to Keys’ chin at least. The top of her head didn’t reach his shoulders.
Worse, even in her baggy jacket, the men could see she was extremely slender.
Okay, be real. Skinny. She was a stick compared to Keys’ usual women.
She didn’t even try to stand taller; it wasn’t happening.
But it hurt. It hurt far more than she wanted to admit, because these men, who had known Keys since he was a little boy, knew she wasn’t going to be staying.
Whatever Keys thought temporarily, like Lyric, his friends knew she wasn’t his only and she never would be.
“My wife is a little fairy princess,” Master said. He had a gruff voice and he was a big man. Really big and intimidating. “I think you’re tinier than she is.”
She directed her smile at him. “I suspect most people appear small around you.” She wasn’t calling him Master.
And Player? Where had they come up with their names?
She made certain she didn’t sound offended.
Her acting was a perfect blend of a woman trying to be friendly to her man’s friends and being a little shy.
Not too shy. She ran a successful business and was excellent at it.
She couldn’t come off as needy and clingy, although she could see all three men thought she was. They thought she was using Keys.
“You looking to set up a business?” Player asked, mild curiosity in his voice, but the look he sent the other two men was one of outright suspicion.
“I’m a hairdresser. Keys told me about some empty buildings here in Caspar where I might be able to set up a salon.” She indicated the row of clearly empty shops across the street.
She had looked Caspar up on the internet when Keys insisted they were going to live there.
She knew the town was small, located on the Pacific Ocean and bounded on three sides by state parks.
It had been a significant logging town at one time.
From what she understood, Torpedo Ink had purchased a good deal of the land and buildings downtown that had been up for sale.
“We should take a look at the buildings,” Keys said, his hand slipping to the small of her back.
“I particularly like the space next to Label 287, where Lana works. She has a good outdoor patio that would connect with the outdoor space you would have. There’s a half wall, so if your clients were waiting out there, or hers were, they wouldn’t get into each other’s space but could still visit if they knew one another. ”
Keys’ hand on the small of her back urged her forward, across the empty street toward the row of shops.
From what she could see, only four businesses were operating aside from the clearly thriving grocery store.
One was the famous Label 287. There appeared to be a gift shop that looked intriguing.
There was a rental shop for scooters, bicycles and kayaks.
She thought that was a cool idea. There was an ice cream shop.
The outside of the shop was bright, inviting and cheerful.
Outside, on the sidewalk, there were little tables and chairs under an overhang, extending the capacity, since the inside of the shop was quite small.
Already, her mind had simply shut out the fact that Keys’ Torpedo Ink brothers were trailing after them.
This was a beautiful little area, still underdeveloped.
There weren’t any nail or hair salons close.
The community seemed small, but there appeared to be a movement to build up the small downtown area and make it appealing to tourists.
Her kind of hair salon would fit perfectly.
She could ride out the time with Keys, keeping the relationship just between the two of them and avoiding his brethren.
She didn’t need to make connections with his family because they had made it clear they didn’t want to make any with her.
She would focus on him, on making memories with him every single day, so when the time came and he dumped her, she would have something to take with her.
She didn’t need to worry about what his brethren thought of her.
Keys entered the code to open the door to the shop.
She stepped inside and her breath caught in her throat.
It wasn’t just the beauty and perfection of the place, it was the feel.
She had always been sensitive to atmosphere, and this very large set of rooms felt welcoming and hers.
She had often found little shops that she fell in love with, but not a single one had called to her the way this one did.