Irresistible Refrain

around. She had become my constant companion since that first group session. No matter what I tried to do to dissuade her, there was no shaking the irrepressible girl.

“Whatcha doing?” Bridget picked up a ball of paper from the discard pile. “Wow!” she exclaimed after un- crumpling it. “This is really good”

I glanced over at the drawing. The evening gown. The one that reminded me of the dress I’d worn to prom. “It’s ok.” I shrugged. “But the hemline’s not right.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Bridget asked sitting down beside me on the concrete bench.

I reminded myself to be patient. Though she was a bit hyperactive and talked my ear off. She had a good heart. And she’d been extremely supportive of me, even holding a cool washcloth to my head last night when the withdrawal shakes had woken me up. “The hem should probably have a decorative border, maybe eyelet lace. I don’t know.”

Bridget studied the drawing, smoothing it out across her thin tan legs. “I think you’re right. Like that stuff they wore under their dresses in the late fifties. A really cool lime sherbet color might work.”

Actually that would look really great. I reached under the bench and pulled out my colored pencils. I shaded in the color while Bridget watched.

“I told you,” Bridget said with a satisfied nod when I was finished.

I gazed at the golden tanned platinum blonde. I’d been ready to dismiss her idea out of hand. In fact I’d been trying to keep her at arm’s length, as I did with practically everyone else, especially women. Yeah, yeah, I had issues. “You’re into fashion?” I queried.

“Duh, isn’t everyone?” A mischievous grin spread across her face. “I’ve got a stash of In Style magazines in my room. Wanna see?”

“Sure.” I raised my brows, surprised to uncover a rebellious streak in Bridget. I grabbed my stuff and followed her back inside. The Second Chances’ facility was completely closed off from the outside world. No phone. No television. No internet. No contraband magazines.

I sat on the bed beside her while I thumbed through the stack. “These are brand new,” I exclaimed. “How’d you manage that?”

Bridget smiled, two dimples flashing above a mouth of pearly white teeth. “I have all the latest gossip magazines, too.” Apparently, she had leveraged one of the security guards, who had a crush on her. I was just happy to have something to read that wasn’t a dusty old Harlequin novel. Suddenly, I went completely still, my hand resting on his face. Rolling Stone Magazine. “Bigger and Badder than BS” was the headline.

Vaguely, I realized that Bridget had stopped talking. The girl glanced back and forth between the magazine cover and my pale face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I swallowed. No. Not quite, though he still haunted my dreams.

“You know those guys?”

I nodded.

“Holy shit!”

“Don’t get all starry eyed. It’s no big deal. I grew up with them in Seattle that’s all.”

Bridget looked at me with skepticism, taking the magazine and flipping it open to the article. “There’s a picture of you in here.”

I glanced over. Sure enough. It was from the performance in Atlanta. I tried to close the magazine.

Bridget stopped me, her finger on the text, her blue eyes wide. “You and War?” she asked.

“Not anymore.” I shook my head.

“Men are bastards, huh?” Bridget closed it up, crossed her legs, and leaned closer. “Lace, come on. You can tell me. After all, I’m your best friend.”

I stared into the sparkly, but sincere eyes of the woman beside me. Was she? She was definitely the only one.

Bridget held my gaze, nodding as if she could read my thoughts. “You’re prickly, but I like you. I was there when you told your story, remember? You had a crappy childhood, but I’ve never once heard you use it as an excuse. That’s unusual. There’s an inner strength in you. A resolve. You’re gonna make it, Lace Lowell. You’re a winner and I like to be on a winning team.”

My eyes stung from the unexpected praise. I was getting way too sappy in here. “Thanks,” I could hear the thick emotion in my voice. “I don’t really see myself that way. But going back to drugs is not an option for me. They cost me everything that I cared about.” I vividly remembered the disappointment in Bryan’s eyes when he’d seen my tracked up arms.

I sighed heavily.

Bridget patted my hand. “It gets easier.” Her expression sobered, suddenly looking much older than her age. “At least it does in here.” Worry darkened her eyes. “Five more days till I’m done. How much longer for you?”

“Fourteen.”

Bridget mock cringed. “If you ever need anything when you get out, you call me. Promise.”

“I promise.” I smiled. “Teammate.”

31

I nodded to Vandergriff aka the ‘Buzz Buster’ as King had dubbed him. Our band’s new enforcer was built like the Incredible Hulk, his muscles bulging beneath his cheap polyester suit. We had to check in with the guy twice a day, morning and night. He’d traveled with us on the twenty-eight hour bus ride from Miami to Minneapolis and on the four hour flight up to Vancouver, the last stop on the tour. His methods weren’t pleasant, but he’d been successful. Not that I was giving him any trouble. I was just biding my time, holding it together, until I could talk to Lace. The only one of us he hadn’t gotten into line yet was War.

I searched the backstage area, but there was no sign of him. I hoped our lead singer wouldn’t screw up this final concert, but I had an awful feeling that he would. Warren and I hadn’t spoken a word to each other since Miami. Actually, he pretty much wasn’t on speaking terms with anyone in the group. The Morris betrayal had opened up a rift between him and the other guys too. It wasn’t something that would be easily forgotten or forgiven. Not that War was much interested in bridging the gap. If anything, he’d gotten more temperamental, more demanding, and more unpredictable.

Tempest had barely taken the stage on time in Minneapolis because of him. He’d locked himself in a room backstage with a couple of fan girls the roadies had pulled from the audience. Apparently, the usual groupies wouldn’t do for His Highness anymore.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Dizzy asked me as he tightened the strings on his Gibson.

“Not since we landed and he made that big scene about the lukewarm beer in first class.”

“King’s right. The dude’s got it bad.”

“What?” I rolled my shoulders.

“LSD.”

“Shit. You’re kiddin’ me.”

Dizzy barked out a laugh. “LSD. Lead singer’s disease, man. War’s got a real bad case.”

Speaking of the diseased monster, he had finally arrived. War was obviously wasted. His head was slumped to his chest, his arms were draped around two women, and his legs wobbled under him like limp noodles.

I glanced over to see if Vandergriff had noticed. Sure enough, Buzz Buster was already heading straight toward him with a dark look on his face. He dismissed the two girls and had grabbed War as he started to fall forward. War lifted his head, his lips twitching right before he blew chunks all over Buzz Buster’s shiny black dress shoes.

“Bullet. Dizzy,” Buzz Buster cursed. “Come help me with this asshole.”

“We’re screwed,” Dizzy mumbled as we hurried over. “We’ve only got thirty minutes before we’re on.”

“I’m fine,” War insisted, rocking back on his heels. He put his hand on his hip but his attempt to appear belligerent was sabotaged by the fact that he almost fell over again. “Get me my shades!” he yelled at one of the