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  Face The Music

  Andrea K. Robbins

  Published by Andrea K. Robbins at Smashwords

  Copyright 2012 Andrea K. Robbins

  https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/andreakrobbins

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Acknowledgements

  A Note From the Author

  About the Author

  Connect With Me Online

  Dedication

  For my blue-eyed, curly-haired, mini-me who, at 5 years old, told me:

  Mama, when you finish your butterfly book don’t write another, okay? You never have time to play with me anymore.

  Prologue

  I pushed open the door to his apartment and froze. The place was empty. Totally bare. There were dents in the grey carpet where the couch had been. Nails poked out of the wall, but the framed mirror that hung there was gone.

  My brain was slow at comprehending. I just stood there, dumbfounded, trying to understand. What was happening? Where was everything?

  Paul stepped out of the back bedroom but stopped when he saw me. He had a suitcase in one hand and the red duffle bag I’d given him for his birthday slung over his shoulder. “Allison?” he said, looking anywhere but at me. “What are you doing here?”

  I drew in a deep breath, trying to contain the panic rising inside me. “I was going to surprise you with dinner.” I glanced at the sack of groceries in my arm. “I haven’t seen you for two days.” My mind was replaying recent conversations, trying to recall if he’d mentioned anything about taking a trip. I was drawing a blank. “Are, are you going somewhere?”

  His baby blue eyes were dark and darted from the wall to the floor to my face. He may have been at an absence for words, but the look I got gave all the answers I needed.

  “You’re leaving.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  He nodded so slightly that I wondered if I had imagined it. “Look. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say here. I thought it would be easier if I just went.”

  “Went? Where?”

  “I’m going to Toronto.”

  It was like I was in a dream, disconnected from my body and watching the scene unfold from somewhere else. The detachment kept me from totally losing it.

  “Toronto? As in Canada? Why?” My voice was small and high in my throat.

  He gnawed on his thumbnail, something he did when he was agitated. “Jesus, Allie. Do we really have to do this? Can’t you just let it be, without all the explication?”

  I flinched. “Let what be? I don’t understand what’s happening, Paul.” Actually I did, but I was holding onto the hope that there was another explanation.

  “I got a promotion. They need me in the Toronto office.”

  I shook my head, tears threatening to come. “I can’t go to Toronto. I have too many obligations here, you know that.”

  He blew out a breath and gave me a long, pitiful look. I knew then that there were no other explanations.

  “You don’t want me to go.” My voice was deadpan as I stated that little truth. Whatever strength I was using to contain my panic was about to shatter.

  He continued to look at me as if I were some pathetic little child. “Can you honestly say you’re happy?”

  It felt like a loaded question. I closed my eyes, hoping that when I opened them I’d awaken from this nightmare.

  But it wasn’t a dream. His grievances went on, “It’s like we’re already married. Day after day, we do the same damn things, have the same stupid conversations. I’m suffocating. Aren’t you?” He paused, and if he was looking for me to give conformation, I didn’t. I just stood there, unbelieving, watching from my distant, detached perch. “I know you’ve got a lot of shit on your plate right now, and I’ve tried to be supportive. Believe me. It’s just too much. I feel like you’re sucking the life right out of me.”

  He then picked up his bags and walked past me. Right out the door. Right out of my life.

  Chapter 1

  Six months later…

  My alarm went off at a quarter to six, but I didn’t get up right away. Instead, I hit the snooze button and buried my face in the soft flannel pillowcase. A vivid dream about Chris Knots, the super-sexy frontrunner on this new reality TV show, Superstardom, was rapidly fading from my mind. Desperate to reclaim the details, I squeezed my eyes shut and fought to remember. My efforts were mostly futile, however. Nothing left but a few foggy scenes. A campfire on a beach somewhere, under a blanket of stars…

  I sat up and hugged my pillow, silently chastising myself for fantasizing about a life I’d certainly never know with a man I’d never even met. “Pull your head out of the clouds, Allison,” I mumbled, tossing the blankets aside and reaching over to switch off the alarm.

  My phone buzzed. Two missed calls and a text, both from days earlier. Would I ever get a message on time? I really needed to stop by the store and talk to someone, but with the jam-packed schedule I kept, getting my phone fixed was low on the list of priorities.

  Though my schedule was demanding, the days weren’t necessarily exciting. At the age of twenty-four, my life was a series of perfectly planned routines: get up around six, go out to the kitchen, flip on the under-the-counter radio, and sip a cup of coffee while I checked my email before getting ready for work.

  Life was expensive, and it was hard to make ends meet. My younger sister Emily and I, along with her four-year-old daughter, Molly, shared a small, two bedroom apartment in the West Loop neighborhood of Chicago. It wasn’t much, but we were comfortable. Along with the bedrooms, the apartment had a spacious bathroom, a kitchen, and a cozy living room. The taupe colored walls were dotted with pictures of loved ones: Molly as a baby, dressed in a blue and white polka-dotted dress, Emily’s high school graduation picture, Grams and Gramps on their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, and a snapshot of mom that was taken just a month before she died. That last one was hard for me to look at.

  I had to tip-toe around all of Molly’s toys to get out the door. They were scattered everywhere. Some days I wondered if ‘kid’ was synonymous with ‘slob’.

  After college, I got a job teaching Biology to tenth graders. It was a lot of fun but didn’t pay enough for me to make all my bills, so I gave it up after only a year. But I loved teaching, so I went back to school and was working on my Ph.D. I also spent time assisting my advising professor and tutored the younger contestants behind the scenes of Sup
erstardom.

  This was the show’s first season and, so far, had been number one in its Monday night slot every week since its premiere. The premise wasn’t all that original- talented musicians competing each week, hoping to earn the title Superstar, a check for a million bucks, and a big-label recording contract that would launch their careers in the music industry. Originally criticized as being a spinoff of American Idol, critics quickly came to see that Superstardom was much more. While Idol focused exclusively on vocal abilities, Superstardom expanded the idea by demanding additional talents. Contestants were in charge of all aspects of their performance. Everything from the song choice and arrangement to the stage lights and costumes were up to their discretion, giving the judges a more complete picture of the contestants’ abilities as entertainers.

  A devoted fan of the original talent-search show, I never dreamed that I’d get the opportunity to actually work for one. Let’s just say that one of my friends knew someone who knew someone else that was looking for someone qualified enough to fill the position. Lucky for me, I had the necessary credentials.

  I had five students; two sixteen year-old girls, Riley and Sabrina; seventeen year-old Melody; and two boys, fifteen year-old Jimmy, and seventeen-year-old Sam. The law required that they be schooled even while competing in Chicago, but since they couldn’t attend their regular institutions, they were stuck with me, Monday through Friday, from eight until noon. After lunch they met with voice coaches, and their evenings were spent working one-on-one with the band and choreographers. This schedule was strictly followed five days a week. The high-school aged contestants had to keep a much tighter routine than their adult counterparts, who, not having to attend class every day, had more freedom in scheduling their practice times.

  I taught the basics- English, Literature, Math, and Science, and had a fun day planned. We’d spent the last few days working on professional writing and experimental procedures, and I was going to integrate the two by letting the kids design and perform an experiment of their choice and organize their findings into a formal report.

  The kids worked hard all morning. I was at my desk, skimming through a chapter on quadratic equations (it had been years since I’d had to solve those types of problems), when a frustrated sigh caught my attention. Sam was at a computer, struggling with formatting a graph. “I can’t figure out how to set it up,” he complained, leaning forward and squinting against the small font on the screen.

  Sam was a typical California kid; tall and tanned with sandy blonde hair that often hung in his face. He had a crooked smile and a great sense of humor, and though I tried not to have favorites among my students, he was just too easy to like.

  I groaned and slammed my book shut. Making a big show about having to get up out of my chair, I leaned back, stretched my arms above my head, and twisted my torso from side-to-side. This was one thing I loved about my job- teasing these kids. I got to know them well, and we really enjoyed an informal, friendly relationship.

  I made it about halfway across the room but stopped short when I saw Chris Knots, the very man of my dreams- literally, leaning against the frame of the classroom doorway. He was dressed in an old Metallica t-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans, but he wore it well. Any coherent thoughts I might have had raced from my mind as our eyes locked.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him in person- we’d walked past each other in the hallway a few times, and once I even had the good fortune of standing behind him in line at the studio’s snack bar. He was usually in a hurry, talking to someone, or deep in thought, and never so much as looked at me before, but I didn’t really expect much different. He was a star. I was just, well, me.

  Not blessed with the gift of being overly witty or funny, I struggled at making conversation outside the classroom. Emily enjoyed teasing me for being so serious and working too much. I tried to loosen up, but it was awkward for me, and I usually ended up saying something stupid and feeling silly.

  Nevertheless, I fought for control as he ran those enchanting dark eyes over me, and I found myself wishing that I had taken the time to do something more with my hair. It was piled up on top of my head in a messy knot, a style I was all too familiar with. I usually didn’t see the point in fixing it up. Hoping that it hadn’t completely fallen to shambles, I reached up and tucked a few loose auburn strands behind my ear.

  “Hi, can I help you?” My racing heart and sweaty palms made appearing normal difficult, but I managed to speak with an even tone.

  “I need to talk to Sam,” he said smoothly, glancing in Sam’s direction, “but I can see he’s busy, so I’ll just hang out here until you release him- if that’s okay.” He looked at me expectantly, arching a thick eyebrow.

  My eyes were drawn to his mouth. A dark soul patch served well in accentuating his full, kissable lips. Lips I couldn’t take my eyes off of.

  “Um, yeah, of course,” I stuttered after finding my voice.

  I couldn’t believe myself. Here I was, a college graduate student, feeling like a giddy schoolgirl. My heart was up in my throat. “You’re more than welcome to come in, if you want.” I nodded towards an empty desk.

  “I’m fine here. Thanks, though.” He flashed me one of his heart-throbbing smiles, making my heart lurch inside my chest.

  Eager to escape the awkwardness, I shrugged and started to walk away when he offered his hand. Sam turned and looked at him, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Chris grin and wink.

  He returned his attention to me. “I’m Chris, by the way. Chris Knots. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  His grip was strong and warm. An involuntary shudder rocked my insides. “I know.”

  The heat rose in my face when I realized what I had said. “I mean, yeah, everyone knows you!”

  The giggles of eavesdroppers erupted in the room, but I did my best to ignore them.

  He eyed me curiously and grinned. “You must be Miss Banks?”

  My mind was working in slow motion. I heard him but was so focused on his impeccable mouth that it didn’t immediately register that I was supposed to respond. “Oh! Yeah, of course,” I stammered. “I’m Miss Banks. Actually, Allison, but please, call me Allie, everyone else does. Well, except them.” I gestured to the kids. “They call me Miss Banks.” My blush deepened. Keep it together, you blubbering fool!

  He looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh. I hated that I was so flustered, especially in front of the kids. Remembering that Sam was still waiting for me, I told Chris he was welcome to wait and then excused myself.

  I knelt next to Sam and took the mouse. Chris’s presence filled the room, distracting me. I had to force myself to concentrate on what I was doing. “Let me see. This new Excel is so different from the old version.” It took me a long minute to find the right menu. “Here we go. Your dependent variable goes on the y-axis,” I instructed, dragging the cursor along. “And the independent variable goes on the x. Does that help?”

  Sam studied the screen and then flipped through a black and white composition notebook. “Yeah, thanks Miss Banks.” A wrinkle of concentration blemished his brow.

  Melody raised her hand. “I need help.” She brushed her long black bangs out of her eyes and looked at me from the other side of the room. Chris still stood in the doorway.

  “Sorry honey, I don’t offer the kind of help you need,” I teased and grinned when she rolled her eyes. Melody was by far the most mature of the group. The songs she sang always had a jazzy sound, and she was well liked for the unusual raspiness in her voice. More of a loner, she kept to herself and preferred to sit away from the rest of the group. I liked to give her a hard time about being so antisocial. She didn’t seem to mind the attention.

  After answering her question, I glanced at the clock. It was a little past noon. With Chris still lurking by the door, I felt self-conscious as I raised my voice to address the class. “Listen up! Your experimental designs are due at the beginning of class tomorrow, no exceptions. If you didn�
�t finish, you’ll need to work on it tonight. We won’t be spending any time on them in class tomorrow.”

  The kids groaned. “Aw, Miss Banks! You’re so mean!”

  I chuckled and gave them a dismissive wave. “You have no idea. See you all later, have a great afternoon.”

  “Sam,” Chris called. He wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulders and said something I couldn’t hear.

  Sam nodded. “I know! Dude, I told you!” They both looked at me and laughed.

  I had to wrestle down a wave of irritation. I didn’t appreciate being laughed at.

  I was gnawing the inside of my lower lip when Chris turned to me. “Nice to have met you, Allie.” Before I could respond, he and Sam were out the door.

  I needed to get a grip. My heart was racing, and my knees were actually weak. I went to my desk, dropped my head into my hands, and sat in silence for a few minutes. What was I so worked up about? Even before I became the butt of some inside joke, I was ready to jump out of my skin. It was so out of character. I’d never been the type to swoon over guys. Experience had taught me first hand that love-at-first-sight and happily-ever-afters didn’t exist. Sure, I looked at men and could appreciate a good one when I saw one, and Chris was definitely a fine specimen, but who had time for anything more? Certainly not me.

  Chapter 2

  The first time I ever laid eyes on Chris was a few weeks ago, during the show’s premiere. The host, a tall and dark-haired man named Bradley McKnight, stepped out onto the wide, semi-circular stage.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he called over the roar of the audience. “It’s my great privilege to present to you the final contestant of the night. From the lovely state of Virginia, singing a rock-and-roll remake of the old Johnny Cash song, I Walk the Line, is twenty-seven year-old Chris Knots!”

  Waves of applause rolled off the crowd as the band began playing slow, rhythmic beats. Plumes of thick, white fog swirled against the darkened stage. An orange strobe light flickered, illuminating his silhouette as he walked out.