“Wow. I can maybe draw a convincing stick figure if I had to,” He laughed. It was a gut-deep laugh that made me so happy it had come from something I said. He didn’t seem like the type of guy that laughed often.
“So if art isn’t your talent what is?” he asked as he continued to draw.
My attention kept going to his hands—those long, slender fingers as they moved with sure strokes across the sketch pad. “I like to dance,” I told him. “And I’m a decent long distance runner.”
He cocked a brow at my answer. “Dance?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I love to dance. When I was little, before my mom kicked Layla out, Layla would take me to this little dance academy when she got home from school. I got to learn tap dancing, ballet, and jazz. I’m a big jazz and swing fan.”
Drake grinned. “So you like Michael Bublé and Sarah Brickel. Maybe Robbie Williams?” I shrugged and he leaned forward, tapping me on the end of the nose with a finger. “There’s nothing wrong with liking them. I’ve met Michael Bublé a few times at the Grammys. Nice enough guy.”
“I might have every song of his on my iPod.” I shrugged again. “Who is your rock hero?” I asked, determined to know every little thing about this man. Just being with him like this, talking about nothing more important than our tastes in music, was perfect. I wanted to freeze time and hold onto this moment for the rest of my life.
“Keith Richards was always my hero.” He was back to concentrating on his sketchpad. “The man has talent. When I was twelve I mowed grass for an entire summer and saved up to buy my first guitar. I taught myself how to play it by watching and listening to Keith Richards. That’s how we got started. I was Keith and Nik was Mick Jagger. We were just playing around. But then Jesse and Shane joined us, and we actually sounded pretty good. We started playing at parties for the kids at school. From there it was bars close to home. When I was twenty-one some talent scout heard us and told Rich, our manager, about us. A week later, we were on a tour bus, officially rock stars.”
“That’s wild!” I pulled my knees up against my chest and rested my chin on them. My hair fell in my face, and I pushed it back. “Is it all you hoped for? All you ever wanted?” Pain crossed his face. Drake grew quiet and I wondered if he was going to answer me when he finally shook his head. “No. It isn’t all I ever wanted. After the first year or so, I was already burned out. I want more from life than rock-and-roll. We all do now. Don’t get me wrong, Lana, I love making music. I love the thrill of playing for a crowd. But I hate the life that comes with it.”
Chapter 2
Drake
I wasn’t sure why I was so drawn to Lana. I tried to stay away. For about a minute, I succeeded, but I found that it physically hurt to stay away. I refused to give my feelings any name other than friendship. Being friends was safe. I could work with that. So what if just looking at her made me ache deep inside in a way I couldn’t ever remember aching before.
She drew me in and I went willingly. Lana, my sweet, beautiful angel, was easy to talk to. I found myself confiding in her about things no one else knew. I hadn’t even admitted hating the fast pace of the rock-and-roll world that I had gotten caught up in all those years ago to Emmie. With Lana it just came naturally.
I spent every evening with her. Talking about the stupidest things, getting to know a girl—fuck anyone—just for the hell of it. Some nights we would just sit and I would sketch the angel. Others we would lie on the beach and listen as the waves crashed against the beach. With each wave that hit the beach, I felt as if I was being washed in the sweetest peace. It was soothing to be with her. I was able to go without a whole bottle of Jack Daniels to help me fall asleep for an entire week. When I woke each morning I wasn’t drenched in sweat like I normally was. Of course I still had the nightmares. I doubted I would ever be free of them, but that week they didn’t haunt me like they normally did.
Friday, I took Lana to dinner. There was a great little Greek restaurant that I loved. I picked her up, refusing to think of it as a date. I had never taken a girl on a date in my life, and I wasn’t about to think of this time out with Lana as one. That just screamed wrong to me.
It was fun. I enjoyed every second of it and dreaded the time that I would have to take her home. After dinner I found a park, and we sat on the swings just talking like we always did. I had only known this girl a week, and yet she probably knew as much about me as Emmie did. Well, except for the parts that I refused to tell Lana. I didn’t want to put those images in her innocent mind.
And maybe I was scared that if my angel knew about my past she would be too disgusted to want to continue with our friendship.
I drove us back to Malibu in the Escalade. When I pulled into the driveway it was just after ten. Instead of getting out right away, Lana turned toward me and smiled that smile of hers, which I still hadn’t been able to get perfect on paper. There was something about that smile, the way it filled me with so much peace. There was a hint of mischief that sparkled in those whiskey eyes of hers that calmed my need for the bottle, at least for the most part.
“Thanks for tonight, Drake,” she said. “It was fun.”
“Would you like to go shopping with me tomorrow?” I didn’t know where the idea had come from. What the fuck did I know about shopping? I had a shit load of money and had barely touched a cent of it. Emmie took care of my bills and bought everything I needed. I guess I was a little helpless when it came to certain things, but I wanted to spoil Lana. Friends could do that, right?
“Shopping?” She raised a brow and grinned. “You want to take me shopping?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Bring Lucy. We can make a day of it.” I wanted to spend every minute possible with her. Maybe she was a new addiction―one that brought me more peace than the bottle did.
Somehow we ended up talking for nearly an hour, just sitting in the SUV, talking about something I doubted I would remember in the morning. I made her laugh and it was like bells ringing in my ears―the best music I had ever heard.
When I next looked at the clock on the dashboard it was a little after eleven. She was just as reluctant, if not more so, to end the night. I reached out and pushed her long, midnight black hair away from her beautiful face. My fingers burned where they touched her flawless skin. After only a small hesitation, I leaned in and brushed a soft kiss over her cheek. “Good night, Lana,” I murmured.