Laura's Secrets Read online

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  Echelon Press Publishing

  www.echelonpress.com

  Copyright ©2005 by Shannon Greenland

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  Laura's Secrets

  by Shannon Greenland

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Echelon Press Publishing

  56 Sawyer Circle #354

  Memphis, TN 38103

  Copyright © 2005 by Shannon Greenland

  ISBN: 1-59080-414-7 E-Book www.echelonpress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address Echelon Press.

  First Echelon Press paperback printing: June 2005

  Cover Artist: ©Nathalie Moore 2004 Arianna Award Winner

  Editor: Kat Thompson

  Dedication

  Not many people can say they've been best friends with someone since toddler hood. Well, I can. This book is dedicated to my longtime, best friend, Jill Hockman. My childhood memories are unique and enriched because of you, Jill.

  Acknowledgements

  I'd like to acknowledge my critique partners, Tara Greenbaum and Terri Ridgell. Thanks for your candid input, available ear, and wine tastings.

  One

  * * * *

  Gripping the towel wrapped around her lanky, naked body, Laura stared at her closed bedroom door. She tiptoed to it, then placed her ear along the wooden surface.

  Silence.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the pink dress lying on her bed. Aunt Jane had given it to her earlier that day for her tenth birthday. Like everything else in Laura's closet, lace and ruffles adorned it.

  Shuffling back across the room, she took one last look at the door and dropped her towel. Quickly, she reached for the white panties and jammed her feet into the leg holes. The door to her bedroom flew open. Laura gasped and jerked her underwear up.

  Aunt Jane marched toward her, a scowl planted across her face. She grabbed the sides of Laura's underwear and yanked them back down her legs.

  With a red tipped finger, Jane jabbed at Laura's flat chest. “Don't you ever try to hide from me young lady. There's nothing special about you, and you've got nothing I haven't seen."

  Laura didn't flinch when the spittle from her aunt's mouth landed on her face.

  Aunt Jane straightened, walked to the bay window, and then stretched out on top of the chaise lounge. She fluffed her dress and made a show of smoothing wrinkles, shook her brown hair back and took a deep breath. With a pleasant smile on her face, she lifted her index finger and twirled it in the air, and Laura, recognizing her cue, began to dress.

  They'd been performing this ritual at least once every couple of weeks for as long as Laura could remember. She completed the process as fast as possible, then stood ramrod straight in all her pink and flounce.

  Aunt Jane nodded and gave a delicate clap of approval. “Now let me see you walk."

  Laura pulled her shoulders back and pretended she had a book balanced on her head. She walked the length of her bedroom, pivoted, then returned.

  "Oh, Laura, you're such a dream.” Aunt Jane steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “Now come here and let me braid these ribbons into your hair."

  Forcing a smile, Laura walked toward her aunt.

  "Laura!"

  She glanced up. A custodian stood across the stage.

  "Jesus, wake up. I've been shouting at ya forever."

  "Sorry,” she mumbled. Not the first time she'd relived that particular fifteen-year-old memory.

  He pointed to the back of the arena with his broom. “You got a phone call in the office."

  Quickly, she finished soldering the speaker cable and unplugged the iron. She dusted her hands on her jeans and slipped her blue rabbit's foot from her front pocket. As she jogged off stage and through the empty, dark arena to the back office, she rubbed her thumb over the soft fur.

  Picking up the dangling black receiver, she leaned back against the office desk. “Hello, this is Laura Genny."

  "Hey, green eyes."

  "Ed.” They'd met five years before at a workshop he instructed in her third year of college studies. He'd been the one to hook her up with her current job as Sound Technician for the Nashville Arena.

  "How's it going in Music City, USA?"

  "Good. We've got an ice skating show scheduled in two days. I'm getting the place ready. Should be easy. No live music to accompany it. How about Tourist?” Ed had the perfect job as Head Sound Engineer for the international rock group.

  "Funny you should ask. You sitting down?"

  "Yeah."

  "How would you like to sound mix for Tourist?"

  "Wh-what're-Tourist's sound engineer? What're you talking about?"

  "I've finally decided to open up my studio."

  Ed had wanted to own his own recording studio for as long as Laura had known him. “Congratulations."

  "Thanks. Tourist needs a new mixer. I thought of you first. I told the group about you, and they want to give you an audition."

  Laura blinked. He'd talked to them already?

  "Well, what do you think?"

  Traveling with Tourist as their Head Sound Engineer was the opportunity of a lifetime. It's what she'd always dreamed of. “Where do I need to be, and when do I need to be there?"

  * * * *

  Will Burns stood with his back propped against the wall, a water bottle teetering between his thumb and forefinger as he studied the scene in the room. The concert had ended two hours before, but the after party would go on into the morning.

  The lead singer reclined on a sofa, his head thrown back and eyes closed, while a brunette's head bobbed between his legs. The keyboard player sat in a cushioned chair, cradling a topless redhead as he fondled her breasts. The bass player had one hip propped on a stool and each arm wrapped around a giggling blonde. The drummer meandered through the dozen or so other women, smiling and petting as he went along.

  Will took a swig of his water. It tasted bitter going down. From across the room, brunette twins eyed him. One of them gave him a slow wink. The other linked fingers with the first and pulled her toward him. He held up his hand and shook his head. They both gave a pout and veered off toward the couch.

  He'd bet his life an intelligent brain cell didn't exist in the whole lot. These women weren't here for intelligence, though. At the snap of a finger he could have a blowjob, a lap dance, sex, or anything else his heart desired. It nauseated him. There'd been a time when he took advantage, but it'd been years since he participated in the backstage romps of Tourist.

  Why had he even bothered tonight?

  "Hey, baby."

  Will looked down at the hand slinking toward his crotch and grabbed it around the wrist. He pulled the manicured fingers away and looked into her drug-induced eyes. “What's your name?"

  She swayed and smiled suggestively up at him. “Does it matter?"

  "Yep, it does. I'm not interested."

  The woman sniffed indignantly, pivoted unsteadily on her spiked heel, and
staggered off. Alcohol fumes trailed her wake.

  Eric, Will's best friend and fellow guitarist, was the only person not at the party. They'd known each other since high school band class. Will glanced at his watch. Eric would be back at the hotel by now dialing his wife's number. He'd been anxious to talk to his son before the concert.

  "Will, man, my son rocks this world,” Eric had bragged. “He had a soccer game today and scored ten points. He promised to stay awake until I call tonight. We've got to talk about the play-by-play action."

  Will smiled a little as he remembered his best friend's excitement. Eric had the perfect life. Playing music for a living, happily married, a great father. What would it be like to love a woman and have her devoted to him, too? Those thoughts had intruded before, but they seemed more and more frequent of late. How would he ever attract a real woman with his lifestyle?

  He peered through the smoky haze of the room. Familiar sounds surrounded him-sultry music, girlie giggles, raunchy language, clinking glasses. He sighed, scrubbed his fingers through his hair, and walked out.

  Yep, this definitely wasn't what he wanted out of life.

  * * * *

  Laura's plane touched down in Toronto so early the sun hadn't even come up. She slung her backpack over her shoulder, grabbed her duffel bag from the overhead bin, and made her way off the plane.

  Ed stood in the terminal right where he'd promised he would be. If Laura had had a brother, she would've wanted it to be Ed. Bless his heart for getting up at such an ungodly hour.

  "You had to be the last one off, didn't you, green eyes?” He grinned and grabbed her duffel bag. “How much luggage do you have in baggage claim?"

  She stifled a yawn. “This is it."

  Ed shook his head. “I forgot how light you travel."

  Thirty minutes later they walked into the Toronto Marriott and rode the elevator to Tourist's reserved floor. She told Ed goodnight and closed the door to her king size room. Floral patterned curtains hung open to reveal the dawning Toronto skyline. Laura shuffled over and pulled them closed, then retrieved a roll of black electrical tape from her duffel bag. She tore off a piece and pressed it over the peephole in the door.

  Seven years. It'd been seven years since she escaped Aunt Jane's home and still couldn't change clothes without thinking her aunt was watching.

  Unsnapping her jeans, Laura pushed them down her legs, already feeling the sleepiness in her eyes. She glanced at her watch. Good. Five hours of sleep before they reported to work.

  * * * *

  At one o'clock that afternoon, Laura and Ed stood in the tech box at the back of the Convention Center. She listened while he showed her new features of the MIDI system. The band members filtered on stage, laughing and joking with one another.

  "Now don't be nervous,” Ed reassured her. “Ready?"

  Laura nodded and stepped in front of the mixing board. She picked up the house microphone and eased the volume up. “Check on mike one."

  All the members of Tourist looked up at once, obviously taken off guard by the feminine voice echoing through the Center.

  The lead singer stepped up to mike one. “Check."

  Laura stretched her fingers across the board, positioned them on various sliding knobs, made a few adjustments, then said, “Check on mike two."

  The keyboard player pulled his mike down and pressed his lips to the cushioned pad. “Check."

  She continued through the rest of the stage microphones and then began on the instruments. Each time she turned to the EQ rack and boosted the bass, lowered the high end, or vice versa. She communicated with the guys on stage, asking them to play a specific chord or give feedback on the volume of the onstage monitors. She picked up on the reverberation from the right side of the house and made adjustments.

  When sound check finished, she turned to Ed. “Well?"

  Ed smiled. “I can honestly say you did every single thing I would've done.” He opened the gate that led from the tech box. “Let's go meet the boys and see what they think."

  Laura followed him to the stage.

  "Yo, guys,” Ed hailed. “Come meet Laura."

  With reserved interest, she surveyed the famous men who were making their way toward her. Silently, she put names to the faces she'd seen on album covers. All clean cut and dressed casually in jeans. Except for the drummer who'd over gelled his long hair, making it more stringy than stylish.

  So, these were the musicians so many people idolized. They seemed ordinary enough to her.

  Keeping her head high, she made eye contact with each of them and, as Ed introduced them, stepped forward to shake their hands. “This is Larry, lead singer, Jamie here plays keyboards, this is Keith, bass, and Lawrence, drums, this is Eric, one of our guitarists, and Will, the lead guitarist."

  The inquisitive look in Will's dark eyes made her falter. One corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile. She took his outstretched hand, gave it a firm shake and nodded her head in greeting, then returned to her place beside Ed.

  "You're a hell of a mixer,” said the bass player. “As good as ol’ Ed here. What do the rest of you guys think?"

  The drummer sniffed. “I don't know. She's awful young. Probably not very experienced either."

  Nothing she hadn't heard before. “You're right. I am young. However, I have confidence in my abilities. I'm talented, well trained, and respected by many in my field."

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Will surveyed the tall, slender woman in front of him. He glanced down at her well-worn Nikes and smiled. He had on the exact same ones. He trailed up her long legs, noting her masculine stance, with each foot braced about two feet apart and hands clasped behind her back. She looked ready to take someone on in a fight. Her tucked in pale yellow T-shirt matched the highlights in her blond hair, and her ball cap sported The Lakers. A woman after his own heart.

  Will studied her determined face as she squared off with the band's drummer. Sadness lingered there, behind those lovely green eyes. Had she even smiled yet?

  "Tell you what,” Will interceded, “Laura, you mix for us tonight, and Lawrence,” he turned to the drummer, “if everyone's satisfied, we'll keep her. Ed'll be right there if something goes wrong."

  The drummer grinned, pleased with the compromise. Laura gave her agreement in the form of a quick nod. Will bit back a smile. So serious.

  She followed Ed back through the Convention Center, her long ponytail swaying with her movement. Will turned and picked up his guitar.

  What will she look like with a smile?

  * * * *

  Will woke at six the next morning and let out a loud yawn. His thoughts drifted to the concert the night before. It'd gone off without a hitch. Laura had done an equal if not better job than Ed, and the other Tourist's members thought so, too.

  Officially, Laura was now the newest addition to their traveling family. The group had delivered the good news to her last night after the show. She'd looked at each of them, gave them a thank you, and said she felt confident everyone would be pleased with the new arrangement.

  Will chuckled. She was something else.

  After two good whole body stretches, he swung off the bed and padded into the bathroom. Minutes later he emerged, pulled on a pair of runner's shorts and a tank top, laced up his new Nikes, donned his disguise of dark glasses and a ball cap, and made his way down to the lobby. He exited the back of the Marriott and came to an abrupt stop.

  Laura stood outside the hotel with a heel propped on a low wall and her leg stretched straight. Bending forward, she touched her nose to her knee and held it there for a few seconds. She reached her hands toward the sky and bent right, then left.

  He stood, watching her stretch, fixated by her lean legs. Like him, she wore runner's shorts, and with each movement, they gaped open at the sides to reveal her entire upper thigh and hip. “So, you're a runner, huh?"

  Laura glanced up at him through her dark glasses. “Yeah,” she answered and jogged away.


  Will puzzled her retreating back. Women never brushed him off like that. He ran to catch up, surprised that her pace matched his own long-legged stride. “Do you run every day?"

  "Pretty much."

  "How far do you go?"

  "Five miles."

  Will nudged her arm playfully. “Me, too. What a coincidence, huh?"

  "Hmmm..."

  He gave her a sideways glance. The tip of her thick braid bounced against her rear end. A single bead of sweat sneaked out from under her ball cap and trickled down her cheek. “You're really tall. What are you, five-ten?"

  She wiped the sweat with the back of her hand. “Five-eight."

  Four inches shorter than him. He wouldn't break his neck for a kiss. “Where ya from?"

  Laura's stomach tightened, as it always did when someone asked about her past. Aunt Jane's image flooded her mind. “Nowhere."

  "Everybody's from somewhere."

  "I move around a lot.” Wanting to steer the conversation away from her private life, she asked, “How long has Tourist been together?"

  "I've played for them for eleven years, but the band started a few years prior to that. How long have you been a sound tech?"

  "Small gigs through college and full time for three years."

  "Yep, I tried my hand at mixing once. I remember it was in this bar back before I played for Tourist..."

  Laura half listened to him ramble while she ran beside him. She turned her head a fraction of an inch to get a better look at him. Little black clumps of hair curled out from under his cap. It made him seem boyish and harmless. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had made such an effort to talk to her. Usually they mistook her quietness for iciness and found some excuse to end the conversation. Only Ed and Bizzy, her childhood friend, had taken the time to get to know her.

  "So,” Will interrupted her thoughts, “what instrument do you play?"

  "What makes you think I play?"

  "Most mixers do. Let's see ... drums? No. Accordion? Spoons? I know. Jug blowing."

  Jug blowing? Her lips twitched. “Guitar."