A Blue Tale Read online

  Copyright 2013 by Sarah Dosher

  Edited by Raelene Green of word·play by 77peaches, a division of 77peaches enterprises, LLC. www.77peaches.com

  Cover Design by Sommer at Perfect Pear Creative Covers

  Cover Photo by l.rainey pics

  Cover Models Levi Jones and Kate Mathias

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty–Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  To my husband whose blue guitar inspired a story.

  AND

  To Elle for always being there and helping me believe.

  Once upon a time…

  Prologue

  Eli Blue

  Love fucking sucks. No really, let me repeat myself. Love. Fucking. Sucks. I lived my entire life believing in fairytales, believing that my Prince Charming would swoop in and rescue me. Then shitty heartbreak, after shitty heartbreak, knocked me down until I had no choice but to stop believing…

  Until the day I started again.

  Honestly, I never thought it would happen, but all it really took was a simple spark to ignite the smoldering within me, and then it flamed. Want a glimpse of that day? Want a small peek at the possibility of happily ever after before I show you the turmoil? Yeah, I figured you did.

  ***

  See that beautiful woman, covered from head to toe in flowing blue silk, peering over the edge of the landing – that’s me. I’m surrounded by twinkling lights and white flower sprigs that smell bright and romantic. I hated them, hated what they represented, and what I no longer had.

  I looked like a princess on the outside, but felt sad and alone inside. I was positive no one would see it because they never do. I’d been blindly navigating through life for a long time, since the day I lost the only person that ever truly loved me, when I was too young to know how much he’d be missed. But of course, like love always does, it found its way back to me in the form of a man that pulled at every inch of my body and heart.

  He’s down there, just entering through the large doors. Damn, that body-hugging penguin suit fits him perfectly. His hair had grown longer than I remembered; the little curls that once teased along his hairline were now full ringlets. His dark whiskers had turned long and unruly. My heart ached at the sight of him, ached for what we once had – for the opportunity we lost.

  He looked up, his eyes immediately connecting with mine. I saw them brighten for just an instant then slowly fade.

  Then he looked away.

  A waiter handed me a flute of champagne, I downed it and took two more from the tray. I didn’t give a shit how inappropriate it might have looked to my colleagues that were here to celebrate my dad—I needed it. In life, people take what they need most; unfortunately, I was just starting to understand this and do some taking for myself.

  There was a loud tapping on the microphone I assumed was to signal the start of the show. Everyone that was anyone in the music industry had shown up to remember my dad’s music. He’s being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame next month, but tonight was a somewhat lower scale gathering, if you could call an event of this size small. Everyone that knew him or worked with him throughout his career was here. Musicians fought for the chance to play his songs, or write new music to commemorate his career. It should be a touching occasion, but I’d been dreading it for weeks, and had practically been forced here against my will.

  I took my seat in the front row and waited for the rush of memories I didn’t want - memories I’d buried deep were about to be yanked to the surface. After the first song, the tears were pooling in my eyes; tears of pity for myself. I decided the only way I was going to survive the night was to turn my emotions off – to just shut down. It was actually starting to work, too. Song after song, I smiled when I felt others watching me, and I clapped when everyone else clapped. But I never heard a single note or melody – the music was lost to me. Music has the ability to reach deep into your soul, to the places you’d forgotten; where the deepest wounds reside – and I didn’t fucking want that—I wanted to be left alone.

  My entire being was numb to my surroundings until a low murmur spread through the crowd drawing my attention. The lights lowered as one man took the stage. My eyes grew wide as I saw who it was, and I knew I’d never be able to ignore the rhythm that came from within him that his guitar simply amplified. Clutched in his hands was my dad’s guitar, the one I’d given him just before it all came crashing down.

  He sat on a simple black stool directly in front of me; so close I could have reached out and plucked the strings myself. But he didn’t look at me; instead he looked over me and to the crowd before finally closing his eyes to play. His fingers slowly glided over the guitar, sending the vibrations deep into my heart. It was one of my dad’s songs; only he’d changed it and made it his own.

  While the world is still living

  All my passion has faded away

  My fingers on this guitar to stop feeling the ache

  ‘Cause she’ll never long for me

  I deceived myself

  She was gone from the instant I loved her

  My heart still calls to her

  As I try to find the power to move forward somehow

  No, I won’t ever forget us

  Her love was blue and made for another

  A fairytale I could never measure

  Full of prosperity and control

  I was meager with no rise in sight

  I deceived myself

  She was gone from the instant I loved her

  My heart still calls to her

  As I try to find the power to move forward somehow

  No, I won’t ever forget us

  Tears of loss falling down as I try to forget

  Her love was a ruse from when I first fell

  None of her love, all meant for them

  Cause of my pain when I think back to then

  I remember her smell as it filled me full

  The sound of betrayal as it spilled from her lips

  Say to myself time and time again

  I’ll never need her from now on />
  I deceived myself

  She was gone from the instant I loved her

  My heart still calls to her

  As I try to find the power to move forward somehow

  No, I won’t ever forget us

  It was never meant to be

  My heart knows that now

  I’ve found the will to forget her now

  My bequest to you ‘cause I know that’s your will

  Tears were streaming down my face—no longer for myself, but for this man that I’d loved and lost – tears for us. The song ended and he disappeared from the stage. Before I cleared the wetness from my eyes, he was standing in front of me, holding my dad’s guitar out to me. I stood and moved toward him. My fingers wrapped around the smooth maple wood of the guitar’s neck, and I could feel the grooves in the frets caused by years of play.

  I had wondered if I’d ever see this man, or this guitar again, and here they were, right in front of me where I could feel their presence reverberating in my soul.

  Neither of us spoke. I smiled; he frowned, and then turned and walked away.

  Chapter One

  Eli Blue

  “Deacon! Deacon! Deacon!” the hoard of girls chanted, as they pushed and shoved, trying to get closer to the empty stage.

  The unmistakable sound of a Fender Stratocaster echoed through the small arena, inciting the masses even further. The crowd was a living, breathing entity all its own that swayed and surged with every note. As the opening guitar solo edged forward, I could smell sweet excitement filling the air; unfortunately, the scent was dampened by sweat and stale beer.

  “C’mon, hurry your ass up!” I shouted to my friend, Willow, before I started weaving through the flesh-hungry mob. Willow wrapped her arms around my waist trying not to get trampled.

  After elbowing every single person in our path, we finally reached the barricade a few feet from the stage. Immediately, we were greeted by a snarling security guard that wasn’t happy to see us ascending into sacred territory. He held up his hands in a silent plea for us to stop, which did nothing but make me roll my eyes. I’d never felt entitled to things in my life; however, free reign at this place was a given, and the only thing I ever demanded.

  I flashed the sweetest smile I could manage, and was just about to inform him who my dad was, when a man dressed in a business suit gestured for the guard to let us pass. I smiled at the suit and he returned the gesture with a nod of his head just before he disappeared behind a door leading under the stage. Realization of who I was, or actually who my dad was, flooded over the guard’s face. His eyes grew wide and reverence appeared – with a touch of pity.

  “That never gets old.” Willow yelled in my ear over the screams and hollers for the concert to begin.

  “What?” I shouted back.

  “When they finally realize you’re someone important and retreat.” She laughed.

  I shook my head. “But I’m not.” I informed her.

  “Yes, you are, Elizabeth, and it won’t be long ‘til I’m someone special, too.” She said with a wink.

  I rolled my eyes at her before turning my attention back to the stage just as a single light began to rise. The guitar solo slowly faded and was followed by the pounding of a kick drum. Boom, boom, boom. I could feel my heart mirror the slow, methodical beat. Boom, boom, boom.

  Anticipation built within me causing heat to cover my body, and sweat to roll down the middle of my back. Music always had a way of exciting me. I’d grown up with it - I’d never known anything different. Even when I’d been shielded from its harsh glare, a constant rhythm still flowed through my veins.

  A shadowy figure appeared at the center microphone directly in front of us.

  “Oh shit there he is, there he is!” Willow screamed, jumping up and down.

  I burst into laughter because I’d never seen her act like this before.

  “Damn girl, calm down! He’s just some lead singer. We’ve definitely met our fair share before.” I placed my hands on her shoulders forcing her to calm down.

  She pointed toward the stage, “Duke’s different—dear Lord is he different. Just wait ‘til you hear him sing and you’ll be ready to rip his clothes off, too.”

  “Fuck me, Duke!” echoed behind me. I turned to see a leggy blonde with the brightest red lips I’d ever seen, flashing her tits at the stage. I’d never understand how any woman thought that would help her chances at snagging a man. Sleazy desperation was never attractive on anyone, no matter how much lipstick you tried to cover it with.

  A low, sexy growl came through the sound system, drawing my attention back to the stage. Standing center stage was a towering man wearing nothing but black leather pants. His long blonde hair hung down his back and teased the crowd by subtly camouflaging his muscles that appeared to bulge in all the right places.

  “That’s him, that’s him.” Willow shouted, digging her nails into my upper arm.

  I shrugged my shoulders, “Yeah, he looks good, but I need to hear him first.”

  “He plays guitar, too. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t drag you here for a singer that didn’t play, too.”

  I smiled at my best friend because she knew me well. Although I tried hard not to pass judgment on him before I actually heard him sing, his cliché appearance was definitely a strike against him. He was too flashy for what I wanted. I wanted old fashioned musicians that played for the love of their craft. Not someone that was just in it for the glitz and glam.

  Willow dragged me here tonight in hopes I’d sign her favorite new band to my dad’s management company; technically, it was my management company now, even though I refused to call it that. Savage Man had become mine four years ago on my eighteenth birthday. Before that my mother almost ran it into the ground from the day her guardianship of me granted her the right.

  My dad hadn’t been a part of my life since all the glitz and glam took him from me when I was barely thirteen years old. Not nearly old enough to know how his absence would affect my entire world, let alone how he’d want me to lead his brainchild.

  Willow’s band, The Elle’s, was the first band I signed when I officially started working at Savage Man full time last month, after graduating college. An all girl rock band, no one could go wrong with the way these girls looked, not to mention their amount of talent. Simply, they kicked ass. The only problem was the estrogen induced drama that occurred on a daily basis. But Willow had been the only constant in my life, and I’d do anything to help her achieve her dreams.

  “Hey, are you even listening to him?” Willow whined.

  “I’m listening,” I snapped. I was definitely listening, and his voice was impressive. Clear and smooth, just like she’d said it was.

  The bridge of the song played and the lead guitar picked up, sending chills dancing across my skin. I moved to my left and on to my tiptoes, trying to peer over the tall stage, but couldn’t see the guitar player. His half of the stage was too dark; the only beam of light focused on Duke, who was busy grinding his hips in the direction of every female he could find.

  “Deacon Chastain.” Willow said with a huge smile. “That’s who you’re looking for over there. He doesn’t come out of the shadows very often. Apparently he likes to sulk back there and be all broody.”

  “He’s damn good. Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

  Her eyes gleamed with orneriness. “Because I wanted you to discover him for yourself. Just wait; there’s a hell of a lot more to see.”

  Song, after song played and I still hadn’t seen more than a glimpse of Deacon through his shroud of darkness. Still, the sounds that came from his guitar kept me entranced. I’d stopped listening to the song as a whole, only feeling the vibrations of his picked guitar strings darting through my core. They felt so familiar, like I’d never listened to anyone, other than him, play.

  “We are Unforgiven, and we hope we rocked you as hard as you rocked us tonight. If not, be sure and let us know, so we can tell you to go fuck yourself.” Du
ke shouted and the crowd cheered. “Ladies, don’t forget the line for the backstage freaky train forms to your left by the big bald security guard. As always, the last song of the night goes to our fearless founder and leader, Deacon.”

  I expected the crowd to go wild with more sexual favor declarations from the half-naked Barbie’s all around me, but there was only complete silence. Duke dropped the mic with a shrill shriek, and the entire room immediately went black.

  A dim light from the back of the stage slowly arced across the venue, stopping and illuminating someone sitting on a bar stool with a black hoodie pulled over his head. Now backlit, the figure became a dark and menacing presence. A microphone stood in front of him, waiting to be used, while a large guitar rested on his leg. Willow pulled on my arm and moved closer.

  “That’s Deacon.” She said softly into my ear. “This is their end of the show tradition - same song at the end of every show.”

  The sound of his knuckles cracking filtered through the stillness as a bright spotlight illuminated the front of his guitar. I gasped. It was my guitar; my dad’s guitar. I knew every single inch of my dad’s guitar and this was identical, even down to the bright blue details. I felt my heart fall to the floor, shattering into a million jagged pieces. He was another one, another guitar player obsessed with my dad. I found them everywhere, or more accurately, they found me. I think some of them had a tracking device attached to my ass with how quickly they could locate me. I’d spent my life fighting off Kirk Savage wannabes. Which never made sense to me—I’m his daughter, so their path to becoming my “Rock God” dad should not include them vying to be in my pants.

  I heard Deacon slowly inhale then let out a long, steady stream of air. Not a nervous gesture, but a prayer for strength. He lightly strummed his guitar and the sound invaded my senses. He played a slow, light melody that had tears burning my eyes.

  His fingers moved over the smooth strings, creating one of the most genuine sounds I’d ever heard—every movement of his hand giving voice to the desires of his heart. I’d been around enough musicians to know that was the only way a mere human could compose such a melody, and in that moment, our hearts were beating to the same rhythm.