A Husband for Beauty Page 2

  He’d watched the rehearsal. He couldn’t say what possessed him to go to Minnie. He’d watched Howard caress Leena’s cheek. He himself didn’t know the softness of that arch. He watched Howard stare at Leena’s lips. Lips that he himself had never tasted. She was his wife. His wife, damn it!

  His fingers flew over the keys, forgetting, always forgetting. He worked himself into a place of escape, the place inside himself where the music took over everything else. The rest of the world ceased to exist. There was no Howard, no Hannah, no past, no future, no feeling. There was no Leena.

  And then, there was. Her emerald eyes, soulful and wide, flooded with unshed tears as she stared at him bewildered, not understanding, the unbearable light of emotion he couldn’t even begin to unravel, flashed through the notes. He played harder, beads of sweat dotting his brow. His long blonde hair became soaked with the effort of it He played and played, his fingers cramping, his back aching, his head pounding.

  And still, she was there.

  Leena. Her face. Her name. The wounded depths of her dark eyes. Wounds he had put there, he was sure of it, though he’d never realized it before.

  The pressure on his shoulder, gentle, but firm, brought him out of whatever trance he’d worked himself into. He started and whirled, nearly knocking over the intruder in the process.

  People knew not to touch him. Everyone knew it. He couldn’t believe someone had come into his room, his sanctuary, and dared to lay a hand on him.

  He knew what he must look like, hair a sweaty, tangled mess, shoulders heaving, eyes flashing, blazing, rage twisting up his features. He knew he was fearsome, but he did nothing to abate the sudden anger that rose swift in his chest and choked off reason and good judgment.

  “Leena,” he hissed. How ironic that the very person he couldn’t banish from his mind should happen to materialize right in front of his eyes. “You know very well not to disturb me when I’m working,” he bit out the angry words, glaring at her.

  She took a halting step back, hand outstretched in front of her as if to ward him off. “Dallas… I’m sorry. I didn’t think I was going to disturb you.”

  “You touched me- what did you think was going to happen? If you wanted something, you could have just asked or stepped to the front where I could have seen you. How many times have you been in this room before? How many days have we spent together? We’ve worked together for a long time. You know how I am. You know my routine. You know that you should never, ever try and take me out of the music.”

  “I know, but-”

  “There isn’t anything to say. Just get on with it. Spit it out. Whatever was so important that you had to come in here?”

  Leena’s brows arched together as the flawless, alabaster skin of her forehead knitted into a frown. “I just came to tell you that I was sorry for snapping at you earlier. I didn’t mean to be harsh.”

  “And you couldn’t have waited with your apology for a better time?”

  “I talked to Minnie. We’re going to get the thing with Howard sorted out. I wanted to apologize too if you thought it was inappropriate. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

  “Or what? Jealous?” He could tell it had been on the tip of her tongue to say it. “Don’t worry, we both know that’s never going to happen. I just didn’t feel it was appropriate to have a man with his hands all over another man’s wife where everyone could see it. If it leaked, it would give the theatre a bad name. We survive on the sales of my music, here and to others. We both know it was my money that bought this place and it’s my name at risk.” His harsh words gave away nothing of the jolt of feeling that flooded his chest.

  “The fact that I share it as well is of little consequence, I assume.”

  He ground his teeth together, temper flaring. The image of Howard, tall, dark, incredibly handsome and talented, with his hands all over Leena, bending to kiss her, flashed through his brain. Something bitter and acrid, dark and feral rose in his chest. He didn’t like the unfamiliar sensation or his reaction and it made him harsher than he ever should have been.

  “From now on, you’re not going to be making all the decisions. It’s my coat tails you’re riding. If no one wants to come see my plays or buy my music, then it won’t be long until we’re living out on the street.”

  “You have millions of dollars, Dallas.”

  “All of which you have free access to.”

  “Meaning what?” Leena crossed her arms over her chest. She shook her head slowly and tendrils of her fine dark hair skimmed around her face. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. We’re done here for now. I came to apologize, but I can see that you’re not in the mood to think clearly. We’re not going to get anything productive carrying on like this. How about you sit down and continue on with whatever you were doing, and I continue on with what I do. Everything. Everything, Dallas. Before you go leveling accusations at me about being the one to make us homeless or about squandering your money, you should think again. You should think about everything I’ve done for you. Everything. All the times I’ve cleaned up after you, fed you, bathed you, dressed you, combed out your damn hair. Until you learn how to deal with the damn basics of life, don’t tell me how to live mine.”

  Leena turned to go. Dallas saw red. Freaking red. In all the years he’d known her, she hadn’t so much as raised her voice. It was shocking to hear her swear at him let alone hear the outright anger and disgust in her tone.

  “Don’t walk out on me, Leena. We’re not done here.”

  “Oh really? I think we’re done. We’re done because you’re not being rational. Just go on and play your music. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

  “You’re not! Don’t stand there and smirk at me or look at me like I’m some fucking invalid you’ve sacrificed your entire life for.”

  “Haven’t I?” Leena’s mouth fell partway open. He chose that moment to realize how pink and soft her lips looked, how damn feral and attractive she looked when she was blazing angry. He’d never seen her so worked up, which was probably why he’d never noticed. The fact that he did take notice only further fuelled his annoyance with himself which fuelled his anger.

  “Hardly,” Dallas scoffed. “You think you’ve done things for me? You’ve done nothing. I’ve made you what you are. I’ve given you every opportunity in the world. We both know without me you would be nothing. Just some subpar actress hoping to find another free ride with someone else. You were always just tagging along with Hannah. She was the one who had everything. She was the one who should have made it.”

  “You mean survived.” Leena’s voice broke and tears welled in her eyes. “You mean fucking survived, don’t you Dallas?” Her voice rose to a shrill level, almost a scream. She backed away from him when he took a step forward.

  “No…” He slammed his damn mouth shut before he could do any more damage. A strange, sharp twinge ripped through his chest like it was going to cave in on his lungs. He felt a stab or true regret and real sorrow, for something and someone other than himself for the first time in a very long time.

  “Yes, you did!” Leena’s eyes were wide with pain. She put up a hand again, to stop him. Silvery, shiny tears coursed down her sharply carved white cheeks. They dripped off her petite chin. Her face was completely white, utterly colorless. “I know how you feel. I know how you’ve always felt. I’m not stupid.”

  “Leena…”

  “Just stop. You don’t have to say anything. You’ve said more than enough.”

  Before he could get out words he wished he had the courage to say, to even form or think, Leena turned and fled. The door banged shut harshly behind her and echoed through the room. The sound and the resounding silence following, pulsed through Dallas’ skull.

  He wanted to call her back or go after her. He hadn’t meant to imply… he hadn’t even thought- had he? His head pounded violently. He could hardly think past the screaming in his skull. And then came the notes, a deluge of music that swept him up and tangled him
under and refused to let him go. It was like a deadly undertow that sucked a person down into a watery grave; unseen but always there.

  The music was so loud in his head it was deafening. Dallas threw his hands up over his ears. He wanted to make it stop, but it was there, a symphony rising into a crescendo. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

  The studio room was lined with windows on the far side of the wall. The shades were almost always carefully drawn. Dallas staggered over to the first window and gripped the sill to keep from going down to his knees. He pulled on the window covering so hard it nearly ripped off its mooring at the top.

  He knew Leena would leave. She would take the exit out the back of the first floor. The hallway was right under them and the set of stairs that led to their second story living quarters ran right past the music room. She would have fled down and out the back door.

  In silent supplication, Dallas raised a hand to the window. The glass was cold and sweaty from the heat of the radiators in the room mingling with the chill of the outside weather. “Come back,” he croaked, his voice broken and alien sounding, even to his own ears.

  Of course, she didn’t turn. Leena hurried on, through the alley and out into the busy street. And then, as though sensing that he was there after all, watching her, wishing that she’d turn around and come back inside where the cold of the Philadelphia winter couldn’t get to her, she slowly pivoted and stared directly at the window he was standing at.

  He saw the car approaching. It slammed on its breaks and then the horn blared. The street was icy with a fresh dusting of snow. The car slid wildly, out of control.

  Leena turned at the last second, right as a horrified scream built up in Dallas’ throat. The car struck her and sent her flying. She collapsed on the street like a broken doll, bent and contorted.

  The scream lodged in Dallas’ throat. He closed his eyes and lost his grip on the windowpane. He sunk down to the floor, the blackness already closing in, the never-ending symphony in his head taking control and blacking out everything else.

  He needed to call. He needed to get help. If only he could move. He tried so hard to force himself to get up, to wake up, to stay alert, but the blackness closed in. His last thought, shoving its way through the horrible regret of the way Leena had left, was that he felt like, with his thoughtless words, words he didn’t even mean, he’d somehow caused her death.

  CHAPTER 3

  Leena

  She was dreaming. It was a painful dream with strange voices, horrible smells and blackness, always the blackness. It was like a dark tide pulling her under, sucking her into an endless vortex in which she spun round and round.

  Once the dark fog cleared and she saw bright lights. It wasn’t a tunnel or anything. She knew she wasn’t dead. She was in too much pain to be dead. Every bone in her body ached. Once, she’d fallen off the edge of a stage and landed hard on her right side. She’d just winded herself. She felt like that now, but a hundred times worse. Her neck felt like someone had wrenched it back and slammed it forward right after. Her right arm throbbed up into her shoulder. Her tailbone- well- she was pretty sure someone had taken a steel-toed boot to her ass, missed and hit her in the lower back instead.

  Strange voices drifted through the blackness. Sometimes there were beeps. Sometimes other voices, male and female and some she couldn’t quite make out. She was hot and then she was cold. She was lifted, and she felt like she was floating. The voices never stopped. There was a sharp pain in her hand and then the darkness was complete.

  The next time the fog cleared, and the room shifted, there was a woman sitting beside her bed. Because she was so out of it, Leena said the first thing that came to mind.

  “Mom?” Her voice was foggy and croaky, like her throat was stuffed full of cotton. The beeping machines around her, the IV at her wrist, the dripping bag beside the bed, no longer frightened her. She knew she was in the hospital. The nurse had said something about getting hit by a car. She remembered that much. Try and she might, it was like a wall before that. Her mind butted up against it painfully, irritating and frightening her.

  The fact that she couldn’t place the woman at the side of the bed, though she was achingly familiar, made her want to panic.

  “No, honey.” The woman, who was thin and wiry, probably on the tall side if she stood up, said gently. She had a full head of dark, curly hair and tortoiseshell cat eye glasses. She looked artsy and pretty, though she wasn’t young by any means. The woman was probably in her fifties, though the trendy clothes she wore, and her flawless makeup made her look much younger.

  The woman leaned forward in the uncomfortable looking black chair. She reached out but didn’t take Leena’s hand. Eventually, she tucked it back at her side. Leena trained her eyes on the stranger’s face, which was thin and angular, like her body.

  “No, sorry honey, I’m not your mom. I’m Minnie. Your manager, which is just a fancy way of saying I handle all the things that you don’t have time to take on yourself, which let me tell you, isn’t much. Dealing with stuck up vocalists, finicky musicians, dancers who are being a little too dramatic, bank runs, nightly numbers, reports. God knows you don’t need to worry about that stuff anyway, with all that you do. Writing, performing, keeping that damn Dallas in line.” Minnie zipped up her lips tightly after that. Her eyes darted around the room like she’d said too much.

  “Dallas?” Leena forced the name out. She couldn’t associate a face with the name, or a reason that it should hit her square in the chest. It stung, like the IV at her wrist, burning from a source deep inside of herself. Her eyes swept down to her hand. It was discolored and strangely bruised, likely from the IV itself. She felt bruised on the inside too, somewhere between her heart and her lungs, like a kick to the chest, at the sound of those two syllables. Dall-as. Dallas. Why does that name mean so much? She tried to conjure up a face, a memory, anything, but all she came into contact with was a brick wall. She nearly panicked, but then Minnie spoke, and it took her mind off of the strange fact that she couldn’t even recall anything more than her own name at the moment.

  “Oh geez. I shouldn’t have said anything about him. The doctors wanted people in here that you know, so that you’re not alone. They said that it’s probably good for you. It might help with your memory. I’m not here to upset you, honey, I just didn’t want you to be all alone.”

  “My- my memory?” Leena stammered. Again, the wall slammed up. Bricks right at the back of her eyes where she was sure faces and names, places and the past should be.

  “You were hit by a car, sweetheart. You’re lucky that you’re alright. You just have some scrapes and bruises, but those will heal quickly. The doctor did tell me though, which was lucky since you signed me off as your next of kin and your emergency contact years ago, that you hit your head pretty hard. They didn’t find any bleeding or anything wrong, but they did say that earlier you did wake up. You had no recollection of what happened or who you even were. They said sometimes these things just take time to come back. A few hours, days, weeks…”

  “Or maybe never.” Leena glanced down at the IV in her hand. She had the worst impulse to rip it out. She hated needles and even though she couldn’t really feel the one sticking out of her at the moment, the sight of it was disgusting. “I don’t even remember waking up early. That’s probably not a good sign.”

  Minnie actually chuckled softly. “I don’t think it’s a bad sign at all. The doctor did say you were very out of it.”

  “How long have I been here for?”

  The older woman paused. My emergency contact? Where the hell are my parents? Singers, musicians and dancers? What do I do for a living exactly? Leena tried to focus, but not a single image came to mind. Tears of frustration gathered at the corners of her eyes.

  “Three days. I’ve been here pretty much the whole time.”

  Dallas. The name came again, as though thrust from the center of her heart to the forefront of a brain that refused to work prope
rly. There was a feeling associated with the name, a burning in the pit of her stomach, an ache in her chest, a lump that suddenly rose and lodged itself into the back of her throat.

  “Who is Dallas?” Leena asked carefully. “And what does he mean to me? Why isn’t he here?”

  Minnie’s hands clenched tightly in her lap. She couldn’t avoid Leena’s direct gaze for long. Leena couldn’t remember, but she had the idea she was used to, in whatever past life she’d had, intimidating people.

  “He’s your husband,” Minnie finally whispered. Her face fell, like it broke her heart to deliver the news.

  “My- my husband?” Leena gasped. “Why isn’t he here?” she repeated. Her eyes flew to her left hand and she let out a shocked gasp when she saw the plain gold band on the finger next to her pinkie. “God, why don’t I remember him? I didn’t even know that I’m married.”

  Minnie leaned forward, mouth drawn into a thin line. The wrinkles at the corners of her lips and her eyes were far more pronounced than they had been even a moment before. “He’s- well, honey, none of us are sure, but we all think you’re not really what a husband and wife are. I mean, Dallas, he’s not a normal man. He’s a genius, everyone knows it, but like most of those people, he’s not right. He’s like the darkness to your light. Somehow you think you have to look after him and I don’t know why. Some people thought it was for the money, but you’re far too kind and far too talented to have married him for that. You don’t care about it at all, anyone who knows you can see that.” Minnie hesitated, as though she didn’t want to say more, but when Leena remained silent, she obviously felt like she had to. “You’ve come to me, crying before, saying he’s impossible. There are days, no, weeks, when he shuts himself up and writes music. There are worse days, when he won’t eat or sleep or take care of himself. I remember you once bursting into tears in the middle of a part, just singing away like a little sweet bird one second and weeping the next because you were so worried because he’d refused food and water and, well, and you, for three days.”