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Albert Camus

Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.

Thursday, September 10, 2015

keeping him alive - Songbird by Victoria Escobar

Bianca ran from her past with the hope of being forgotten. Instead of living her dreams, she wasted her skills at a famous entertainment hall in Nashville. An offer to wrangle country music’s infamous bad boy, Nicholas Walker, proved too good to refuse.


Description:

Bianca ran from her past with the hope of being forgotten. Instead of living her dreams, she wasted her skills at a famous entertainment hall in Nashville. An offer to wrangle country music’s infamous bad boy, Nicholas Walker, proved too good to refuse.

However, life on the road presented its own challenges. Walker acted like an overgrown toddler that missed his nap.
The band supported her takeover but the massive crew protested answering to a woman. On top of tip toeing around egos, discretion needed to be maintained while feeding Walker’s infamous sexual appetite.

She never expected Walker to focus his wandering eyes on her. When her past returned fighting Walker didn't seem as vital as keeping him alive. Walking away should be easy, but first they must all make it through unharmed.

EXCERPT





The vase of flowers smashed against the wall next to the door when I stepped in. I deserved brownie points for not flinching or dropping to the ground in fear. Nicholas stood on the far side of the mess leaning against the broken, wall height vanity mirror wearing only his stage pants.

“Nicholas Sebastian Walker! Don’t you dare throw another damn thing or I’ll take the belt to you again. I swear you weren’t spanked enough as a child.”

“Get out,” he roared spinning around to face me. “Get the fuck out.”

I marched across the wreckage of the room, and thankfully my heels put me at eye level to him. I lifted a hand and slapped him across the face with all the force I could muster. I’d officially had enough of his anger to last a lifetime. “Don’t you fucking talk to me like that. I am so sick and tired of your fucking childish behavior. Act like a grown fucking adult.”

The hand that had slapped across his face was grabbed at the wrist so fast I barely had time to protest. His rapid movement blocked the hand I raised against his naked chest, denying me leverage to shove him away. He twisted us around and pinned me to the mirror with his body. The breath knocked out of me and then rushed back so fast I sounded like I had run a mile. He didn’t notice.

He yanked my hand above my head and firmly shoved me back against the cold glass. His free hand caught my flailing hand and pushed that up to rest next to my other hand.

His mouth wasn’t gentle against mine. His teeth nipped and his stubble burned. His anger translated all too clearly in his hard press and ragged breathing.

I didn’t fight him. I wasn’t strong enough to fight him I knew that. And fighting him could make things a hell of a lot worse.

Closing my eyes, I waited for the storm to pass. I wasn’t sure what I would do, could do if he tried anything other than kiss me and the fear of that send a trickle of tears down my cheek.

My heart stumbled then picked up and rapped against my ribcage in the fleeting beats of terror. My stomach roiled and churned. I fisted my hands and tried to close everything off, tried to bring back my calm.

I didn’t want to remember the violent anger; the beatings until I was subdued and had no strength left in me to fight. I didn’t want the memories of my distant past out of their box and polluting my head with their lies.

You’re too fat. You’re too ugly. You’ll never amount to anything. You’re worthless. Be grateful you have us. Be grateful we take care of you. Be grateful we love you.
They were wrong. That wasn’t love. That had been sick obsession that killed a man and nearly killed me.

I felt Nicholas’s forehead rest against mine when he drew away from my mouth. His breathing was still uneven, and hard. He turned his head enough to rub his cheek against bare skin. I was somewhere between panting and sobbing and took great deep breaths to regain control.

“Songbird.” His anger appeared drained but I didn’t open my eyes to find out. “I—”

“Please get your clothes and go over to the other dressing room to finish getting ready.” My voice was deceptively calm and steady, but my body shook. I couldn’t control the violent tremors and I didn’t try.

He released my hands, stepped back a pace but I still felt the heat from his body. I let my hands fall to my sides but I made no other move. I felt his fingers wipe the wet streak on my cheek.

“Songbird…” Something churned in his voice that I didn’t have the strength or courage to examine at the moment.

“Walker, I’m asking you to give me some time. Please.” My voice cracked but I still didn’t move. I couldn’t move yet. Fear had broken my legs.

He wiped the tears on my other cheek but didn’t say anything. I heard him move around and then the quiet click of the door.



About the author:
Born in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, but with the ability to claim eight states as home; Victoria Escobar writes fiction from her current home in New York. She writes whatever comes to mind and because of such has a variety of genres written including Young Adult, New Adult, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, and Contemporary Fiction.

In spare time if not with family, and friends Victoria enjoys curling up with a book from a favorite author with music playing. If not reading or writing she spends time drawing, sketching, crocheting, or some other random art project. She enjoys staying busy, but most of all enjoys staying creative.

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