Chapter 1It was well past eight in the evening when the black motorcycle roared into the gravel parking lot behind Chase Cavern and skittered toward a red Mercedes convertible.Fawn Kilgorne, leaning on the back exterior wall of the bar and smoking a cigarette, grinned as gravel and mud sprayed the car. She was a beautiful woman, and knew how to package herself for optimal effect. The makeup surrounding her almond-shaped black eyes was flawless. Her thick, black hair was swept back and pinned on one side, while obscuring a full quarter of her face on the other side. It fell in waves almost to her waist. Clad in a billowy, low-cut black blouse, belted at the waist over tight, black pants that dissolved into thigh-boots with four-inch heels, she could only have been a band member or a high-priced escort. Fortunately for the local music scene, she was the former. She sang and played guitar. The band called itself ‘Armageddon Lost’.The rider finally deigned to stop the motorcycle, the rear tire scant inches from the driver’s side door of the car. Fawn laughed when the engine revved, sending black smoke billowing out the exhaust and onto the car. Having done the deed, the black-clad rider navigated the motorcycle to a different place, pulling in beside Fawn’s gray Audi before he cut the engine. Fawn watched as he swung his leg over the seat with effortless grace, unhooking the helmet strap at the same time. He selected a key, opened Fawn’s trunk, and threw his helmet inside. He ran a careless hand through his hair, brushing it back from his face as he closed the trunk.Fawn studied him as he made his way toward her. Six feet tall and a-hundred-and-eighty pounds of tightly packed muscle, with a wild, brown mane that fell just past the bottoms of his pectorals, Thorn MacLauren was a damned fine specimen of young manhood, from any angle. But it was his face that drove women wild on first sight. He could have been a male model, based on his bone structure alone. On top of that, though, he had the bluest eyes Fawn had ever seen. And he had beautiful, pout-shaped lips that practically begged to be kissed.Fawn loved Thorn’s bad-boy smile, always had, and her eyes danced as he gave it, making his way toward her.Fawn also loved Thorn’s walk. It was the slow, confident gait of a man who knew how to work every part of his body for maximum efficiency, and didn’t need to expend excess energy to get where he was going. Fawn thought he moved like the sexy gunfighters in westerns. Chastity said he moved like a panther. Shane said he moved like a wet dream, walking. Jake said Thorn walked like a gymnast. That was probably the best answer. The reigning regional gymnastics champion, he was favored to win the nationals that year. He probably would. Fawn had never seen Thorn fail at anything he set out to do.In addition to writing most of the songs the band performed, Thorn played keyboard and sang lead vocals. He had the most amazing voice any of them had ever heard. Twenty-one that day, he was the youngest member of the band, by far. He was also the one who made them what they were.“When are you going to replace that hunk of junk?” Fawn asked, eyeing him with her head cocked to the side as he approached.“I told you,” he answered. “When it dies.”Fawn laughed. “It has died, Kid. Many times. It wants to be dead. It longs for peace. You cruel bastard, you just keep bringing it back.” She knew it wasn’t the bike so much as the fact that Shane had given it to him that kept him so loyal. He just might keep that hand-me-down bike forever. He laughed. “Maybe I’ll start savin’ for one,” he said as he stopped in front of her. In her tall heels, she was almost his height. “I could get it next summer.” He gestured toward the Mercedes. “Why’s he here?”Fawn shrugged. “I guess nobody wanted to hear them tonight,” she said with a wicked grin. “Nothing more pathetic than a bar band without a gig, on a Friday night.”The Mercedes belonged to Cain Isarian, lead singer for rival band Son of Samael.Fawn’s face became serious then. “They’re all here, Baby,” she said. “And they brought friends. My guess is, they know it’s your birthday, and they couldn’t let the opportunity pass without trying to mess it up.”Thorn smiled. “It would take a lot more than Son of Samael to screw up this night.”Fawn grinned. “Glad to hear it, Kid.” She looked up at him. “Where you been?”“I’m not late… yet.”Fawn still didn’t quite understand how he always seemed to know what time it was, when he never wore a watch. Of course, knowing what time it was and actually being on time were two different things… not that Thorn was ever actually late. He just cut everything to the last possible moment.“Flat tire?” Fawn asked.Thorn shook his head.“Chain jump the sprocket thingy again?”Thorn shook his head.Fawn laughed and tried again. “Bad case of the runs?”Thorn rolled his eyes and shook his head.“Busy gettin’ laid?”Thorn laughed and lowered his head, shaking it.“What, then?”“Why you care?”“Because we were trying to call you all evening, and you weren’t answering.”“You didn’t send the emergency code.”“Because it wasn’t an emergency,” Fawn said. “We just wanted to say ‘happy birthday’. So where were you?”“Took my girls out to dinner.” He took the cigarette from her hand. “I thought we quit,” he said, raising it to his mouth.“Been one of those days,” she said, leaning to breathe the smoke as he exhaled it.“I do wish you’d quit havin’ those.” He drew on the cigarette again and placed it into her mouth. “Wanna’ talk about it?”She looked up at him, her eyes wickedly blazing as she took a long draw on the cigarette. “Just stupid stuff,” she answered, dropping the cigarette and grinding it into the dirt. “Nothing you couldn’t fix.”Thorn laughed deep in his throat. He turned her around, pulled her back to his front, and moved his hands over her body. He put his mouth to the side of her neck. Her breath caught when she felt his tongue. She pressed herself more tightly into him and was rewarded with the pressure of his teeth on her skin.“Happy birthday, master,” she whispered. “Tonight, your wish is my command.”“It always is,” he said through his grin. He turned her around and pressed her body into the building, with his own, as he lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss was gentle at first, but it soon became more demanding. Fawn made a sound in her throat as his tongue wrapped itself around hers, coaxing hers from her mouth and into his. They kissed for long minutes before Thorn pulled away.“I feel much better now,” Fawn whispered, raising her hand to his face. With her thumb, she wiped her lipstick from his mouth. He bit at her thumb, his mouth deftly avoiding her long, red-painted nails, and her heart raced.“I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he said, as his mouth worked its way to the palm of her hand. “I had a good day.”“Tell me,” Fawn said, moving her head close to his as he nuzzled her hand.“I’m well,” he said, through his smile.“For sure?” she whispered.“Well… they won’t say ‘cured’ for another two years. But I passed the three-year mark and the tests are still good. They think maybe I outgrew it. They told me today. No more chemo. No more radiation. I am a free man.”Fawn was crying as she turned his face and put her mouth to his. The kiss they’d shared earlier was nothing, compared to that one. The first kiss had been a mental and physical experience. This one was pure emotion. Fawn finally pulled away long enough to whisper, “I love you,” before she slipped her tongue back into his mouth.The bar’s back door opened. “Oh yeah, deep kissing!” It was Shane. Fawn and Thorn both smiled. Shane Fetters was the blond-haired, blue-eyed, perpetually baby-faced bass player with the angelic voice. At five-foot-three, he was also the shortest member of the band. He was lean but muscular, though it was hard to get a good approximation of his shape, in the baggy clothes he wore. Shane hadn’t always hidden his body, that way. Fawn longed for the good old days, when Shane had dressed more like a boy toy.“Hold him for me, Fawn!”Thorn and Fawn quickly pulled their mouths apart, laughing. They’d been subjected to enough of Shane’s antics, over the years, that they knew how easily teeth and noses could get bumped in his presence. It wasn’t so much that he was clumsy as that he was reckless. He launched himself onto Thorn’s back, wrapping his legs around Thorn’s hips and engaging, for a few moments, in a crude and overly exuberant mimicry of sex. He cried out in a howl. “Okay, I’m done.” He kissed Thorn on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Kid. Carry on.”Shane leaned his head around Thorn’s, to watch as Fawn kissed Thorn.“A little to the right, Fawn,” he said. “Thorn… you need to open your mouth… just a little more.” He breathed a forlorn sigh. “I’m not seeing nearly enough tongue, here,” he said. “Come on, people, it’s not every day a kid turns twenty-one. Make it something to remember.” Fawn, laughing, reached around Thorn and put her hands on Shane’s backside, pulling them both closer.The bar’s back door opened again. Fawn’s husband, Gary Kilgorne, stepped through. Gary had much the look of a young, light-haired Cliff Robertson. He had an equally wide range of facial expressions. “What the hell?” He turned his head, looking into the bar. “Get out here!”Damon Patrick came first. Six-foot-one and shaped like a fire hydrant, he could scowl like nobody else they knew. He was the meanest-looking member of their entourage. He played guitar and sang. He didn’t look like a musician. More often than not, he looked like a bouncer at closing time.Six-foot-seven, broad-shouldered drummer and singer Rod Jenkins moved through the door, holding his wife’s hand. In his mid-thirties, he still looked like the football player he’d once been. He was the only short-haired member of the band. He wore it cropped close to his head, in an almost military style. He frequently made derogatory references to Damon’s shoulder-length brown hair and Shane’s significantly longer blond hair. He left the subject of Thorn’s hair alone. Thorn was funny about his hair. He’d lost it all, when he was seventeen, and had been thrilled when it grew back, in open defiance of his ongoing cancer treatments. He said he might never cut it again. Rod was starting to think he meant it.Rod’s wife, Chastity, was a former beauty queen who’d lost none of her looks or poise. She had big, blue eyes and yellow-blond curls. She was short, for a pageant contestant, barely five feet tall. The fact that she’d won was testament to the fact that, in all time, there’d never been another face quite like hers.“Check this shit out,” Gary said, gesturing toward the threesome.Rod rolled his eyes and let go of Chastity’s hand. He’d sent Shane outside to find out whether there’d been a Thorn sighting. “Never send a Shane to do a real man’s work.”Damon snickered. “Well, you should’ve known that.”Shane looked at them with an expression of wide-eyed innocence. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was… they were… it just…” He grinned. “Oh, fuck you guys, I’m gettin’ off, watchin’.”Fawn and Thorn were still kissing.“Get down, bi-boy,” Rod said, raising his hand and slipping it beneath Shane’s shirt, to grasp the waistband of Shane’s pants. He yanked Shane, but the other two came with him. “Come on, you two, there are people waiting for us.”“We don’t care,” Fawn said against Thorn’s lips. “It’s the kid’s twenty-first birthday.” She grinned. “He’s a man, now.”“Yeah, yeah,” Rod said. “Happy birthday, Kid. Now get your ass in there and go to work.”“And… we are celebrating the end of cancer treatments,” Fawn added.All thought of work flew out of Rod’s mind. His whole face transformed with his smile, and he suddenly looked ten years younger. He threw his arms around all three of them. He was followed seconds later by the others. Thorn ended up in the center of a group hug.“I get to kiss him first,” Shane said. “I’ve been waitin’ the longest, ‘cause Fawn was hoggin’ him.”“Come here, monkey,” Thorn said, laughing as he reached behind him to slide Shane to the front of his body.Shane scrambled to Thorn’s front, pushing Fawn out of the way with his backside as he went. “Out of my way, you shameless hussy.” She swatted him on the backside in retribution, and he yelped. “She hurt me, real bad, Thorn,” he pouted. “Will you kiss it and make it better?”Thorn’s eyes were dancing. “Ask me again, when I’m drunk.”Shane’s heart was in his baby-blue eyes when he fixed them on Thorn’s. “It makes my whole world better, to know that you’re well,” he said, in a voice that was little more than a whisper.“I know,” Thorn said, his eyes teasing. “Your prayers can be shorter now.”Shane, jester that he was, had his serious moments. Sometimes they hit him a little too hard, and without sufficient warning. His eyes suddenly welled with tears.Thorn didn’t know what words to say. He put his arms around Shane and pulled him close. Shane tucked his head into the place where Thorn’s shoulder met his neck, and Thorn rocked him.“Now, I want to live again,” Shane whispered, in a voice that only Thorn could hear.“You will,” Thorn whispered, just as quietly, with his eyes closed.“I love you, Thornian.”“Love you, too, Shamus.”Those were the names they’d bestowed upon each other on a long-ago day when they’d stormed the hallowed halls of the Board of Education, demanding justice for the math-deprived masses.“Took too long, Shane,” Rod said. “Go to the end of the line.” He leaned and put a quick but gentle kiss on Thorn’s lips.It was the kind of kiss spouses sometimes exchanged on their way out of the house in the morning, conveying deep affection and mutual commitment. All seven members of their little group regularly exchanged kisses of that type, and it was as natural to them as breathing.Every one of them kissed Thorn’s mouth that night in the parking lot, telling him they loved him, congratulating him on the birthday… and, much more importantly, on the prospect of many happy returns.
An
Ivey Banks
Excerpt
Original artwork provided
by
Ann Simko
and
Richard McAlpin