Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Lyric was used to that. She didn’t fit. She had tried to tell Keys it wouldn’t be so easy, but he couldn’t hear her. She completely understood Maestro’s concerns, his complete rejection of her as the only woman for Keys. She also knew she’d been right all along, and Torpedo Ink was a closed club. The members were tight, but they had very little room for anyone else.
She knew what to do; she’d trained for times like this her entire life. She knew fake Lyric far better than she knew the real one. She was good at fake Lyric. She was so good at that version of herself that sometimes she thought that was who she was.
“Lyric, this is Maestro. One of my brothers,” Keys introduced them.
Fortunately, two more men in Torpedo Ink cuts were coming up the walkway toward them, and his attention was on those two men, not fully on her.
“Master and Player,” Keys said softly to her.
Master was tall and ripped, with blue eyes and dark hair. He was intimidating because he was quite muscular. Player’s long brown hair was streaked with white. He wore a short dark beard and mustache and had blue eyes. Lyric took both men in with one quick glance.
She looked directly at Maestro, keeping her gaze right at his nose so it looked as if she was being friendly. She even put on her friendly mask. She gave him her salon smile. “Very happy to meet you,” she said, keeping her voice low and sociable. She called that her salon voice. She had a way of getting customers to talk to her, just using that voice. The more talking they did, the less she had to do, but they always went away feeling as if they knew her and they were great friends.
She didn’t want to disappoint Keys, but there was no other way for her to manage his family other than the way she’d been coping her entire life. She appeared open and innocent of all guile. Just a nice woman intent on finding an empty building so maybe she could set up a business there.
She tugged on the hem of her jacket, knowing it swallowed her, making her feel even more her authentic self. “Keys has told me a little about his friends. You must do building with him. He always gets animated when he talks about anything to do with architecture.”
Maestro gave a careless little shrug. “We do some building. Nothing to write home about, but we get by.”
Ah, the gold digger. She didn’t have a persona for that version of Lyric. It hadn’t occurred to her to create one. She’d never taken anything from anyone, not since she was abandoned to that group home, where she didn’t fit in.
For a moment, pain flashed sharp and terrible and so deep she felt as if she were torn in two, but she shut it down. Shoved it aside. She’d known. She’d told Keys. The last six months of her life, with him in it, made it worthwhile. He was worth it. Even though he was wrong, he believed he was right about her—about them. That didn’t make him cruel and monstrous, it made him human.
Keys came around the bike and swept her under his shoulder in a claiming gesture. She stayed relaxed and kept her gaze fixed on a spot between the two newcomers, her open, friendly smile plastered on her face. She didn’t quite know what to do with Keys holding her against him in front of everyone. It was easier to maintain social Lyric when she stood alone.
“Player and Master.” Keys indicated the two men. “Player’s wife, Zyah, runs the Caspar Market.” They were standing in front of the Caspar grocery store. “She’s very efficient when it comes to running a business, so if you ever need help, she’ll be right across the street.”
The men gave her the same greeting and look that Maestro had. They didn’t trust her or her motives for being with Keys. They knew him better than anyone. She wasn’t his type. That was clear, and the three men knew it. She wasn’t in the least bit his type. She’d seen him with dozens of women and not a single one had looked like her. They all had very, very generous curves. They were tall enough to come up to Keys’ chin at least. The top of her head didn’t reach his shoulders. Worse, even in her baggy jacket, the men could see she was extremely slender. Okay, be real. Skinny. She was a stick compared to Keys’ usual women.
She didn’t even try to stand taller; it wasn’t happening. But it hurt. It hurt far more than she wanted to admit, because these men, who had known Keys since he was a little boy, knew she wasn’t going to be staying. Whatever Keys thought temporarily, like Lyric, his friends knew she wasn’t his only and she never would be.