Apollo (Contemporary Mythos Book 2)

Once Kate had her fill of watching Eric twirl and toss bottles, we decided to make the most of the rest of our time in Toronto. Considering we were so close to Toronto living in Buffalo, I’d been several times already but still enjoyed playing tourist for the day. We embarked on a hop-on-hop-off tour of the city, hopping off when a sign reading, “The Best Poutine in Toronto,” caught my eye. We enjoyed our rare moment of junk food, stuffing gravy fries, and cheese curds in our mouths until our stomachs hurt. We took a stroll through Toronto Island Park to walk it off.

The day soon turned into night, and we made our way back to the hotel. We stood at a crosswalk, waiting for the walk sign to illuminate. I turned my feet in first position, heels together, and toes pointed away from each other. I grimaced, trying to turn them out further.

“It’s so frustrating. My feet just don’t turn out like they’re supposed to,” I mumbled.

“They’re not supposed to turn out like that, Laurel. The average person doesn’t stand in first position. Ballerinas do.”

The light turned, and we crossed to the other side of the street, hugging our jackets to our bodies.

“Exactly. Ballerinas. I should’ve known to leave well enough alone. When I was twelve, ready to go on pointe, they held me back because I didn’t have the feet.” I sniffled, the nip in the air making my nose run. “I never have. Never will.”

Kate curled her arm with mine, snuggling against me for warmth. “You may not have the turnout, Laur, but you’re a better dancer than me. You connect to it in a way I can’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“You get this serene look on your face. Like you escape to another world.”

She wasn’t wrong. Music had a way of digging under my skin, implanting itself, and sparking neurons all over my body.

I smiled. “You’re a good friend, Kate.”

The Grove Hotel greeted us and not a moment too soon. My teeth started chattering.

“What floor are you on?” She shoved her butt into the revolving door.

After digging out my key card, I ran my thumb over the laminate. “Eight. You?”

“Oh, poo. I’m on five.”

We made our way to the elevator, waiting for the doors to close. Jamie shimmied through right before getting squished with a man trailing behind her. She giggled and stumbled but frowned once she noticed us.

“Laurel. Hey. Having uh—having fun?” She asked, pulling on her cowl neck sweater and smoothing out her hair.

The man, shorter than her, olive-colored skin, black as night hair slicked back—Italian maybe? He pushed her against the elevator wall, kissing her neck. She shoved him away, laughing nervously.

Kate and I exchanged glances with cocked eyebrows.

“Not as much as you are,” I responded, crossing my arms.

Jamie held the man at arm’s length. He frowned.

“This is Alberto. We’re—friends.” She dabbed at the corners of her mouth, which did nothing to hide the smudged lipstick.

Uh-huh. And I was the Queen of the Underworld.

The elevator lurched to a stop on floor four. Jamie and Alberto trampled out, Jamie trying desperately to disguise what was going on. A hookup.

Oh, this was too rich.

“Did you see what I saw?” Kate asked, her dark eyes wide.

“A tipsy Jamie making out in an elevator with a stranger?”

“Okay, good. Just making sure.”

The doors binged open on Kate’s floor, and she hugged me before exiting. When it reached floor eight, I shuffled down the carpeted hallway, looking for room eighty-seven. I yawned, swiping my card over the reader. There was just enough energy left in me to wash my face and change my clothes. Afterward, my head had an important date with the six fluffy pillows on the hotel room bed.

I flicked off the light, cooing into the sheets, ready to get the most sleep I’d gotten in months. The strumming of a guitar echoed from the wall above me. My head shot up like a rocket.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Who played music at this time of night?

I curled one pillow over my head, pressing it against my ears. The guitar sound was still there, but not so loud I couldn’t potentially fall asleep. It was soft and wispy, almost like a lullaby. My eyelids grew heavy. A man’s voice started to sing along with the guitar, and my eyes flew open. I ripped the pillow away, sitting up and pressing my ear to the wall.

Ace.

My heartbeat quickened, listening to him through the thin hotel walls.

I narrowed my eyes, stumbled out of bed, whipped open my door, and stood in front of room eighty-eight. The music blared through the door, the sounds of steel strings echoing in my ears. I knocked on the door with one hand on my hip. The music stopped, followed by the sound of rustling before the door opened.

My throat and groin clenched simultaneously. He stood in a dingy Poison t-shirt—the sleeves and collar cut off, making it a loose tank top. Gazing into the holes gave a peek at those taut, bronzed pectoral muscles. He dragged a hand through his hair, smiling—always smiling.

“Well, well, look who I bumped into, as predicted.”

I rolled my shoulders back. “Coincidence.”

“Or the universe is calling.” His eyes sparkled before scanning my body. “Were you in bed?”

I looked down at my white camisole and skimpy pajama shorts, clapping my forearms over my boobs. “It’s one o’clock in the morning. Of course, I was.”

“Did Raven wake you up?”

“Did what?”

He pointed at the black acoustic guitar resting against the bedframe behind him.

“No. I was trying to fall asleep and suddenly heard a cat screeching. I thought it was in the alleyway, but imagine my surprise when it was the room next door.”

He chuckled. A deep, masculine chuckle from the pit of his stomach. “You’re a horrible liar.”

I gritted my teeth, my skin growing goosebumps from the chilly air in the hallway. “Could you please refrain from it the rest of the night so I can sleep?”

“I could always play you something else through the wall. What would—” He dropped his gaze to my forearms covering my chest before returning to my eyes. “—relax you?”

“Nothing.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

He squinted and canted his head to the side. “Alright. I’ll keep quiet.”

“Perfect.” I turned away.

“But you owe me.”

I glared. “Why would I owe you for asking you to stop noise pollution?”

“I’m Ace of Apollo’s Suns. Anyone else would be ecstatic to hear my music flowing through their room. So, I’m only doing this for you.”

I clenched my teeth. “What kind of a favor?”

“I’ll let you know.” He bit his lip as he tapped on the doorframe.

A mysterious favor to a cocky rock star in exchange for a blissful night’s sleep? Tough decision.

“As long as it’s nothing—sexual,” I quickly followed up.

His grin turned sinister. “You’d be so lucky.”

My stomach flipped. “Ace.”

“Fine. Deal.”

I nodded and turned for my door.

“What did you think of it, by the way?” He asked.

“Of what?”

“The song? It’s new.” His blue eyes focused on me like he was genuinely asking my opinion.

“It was different for you. Soulful.”

“You could tell?” He looked at me as if I were Pandora’s Box. Curious to know what was inside, but terrified to even think about opening it.

I shrugged, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. “I have a thing about music.”

“A thing?” His curious expression still plastered on his face.

I nodded. “Goodnight.” My door couldn’t open fast enough, and I whisked myself inside, closing it before he could ask me any more questions.

Pressing my back to the door, I let out a long, raggedy breath. Ace’s song was more than soulful. It’d spoken to my soul.

On the bus ride home the next day, I listened to anything on my phone except Apollo’s Suns—epic orchestral pieces, Nordic folk music, nineties rap. Anything. As soon as the bus dropped us off at the studio, I hopped in my car and drove to work. I’d have to down every variety of caffeine to survive rehearsal the next day, but given all the time I took off for the performance, I had to take every opportunity to work.

I rubbed my eyes, stifling a yawn as I walked into the diner, making a beeline for the back room to grab my apron.

“Do you think it’s really him?” The brunette waitress, Kim, whispered to the auburn-haired one, Lindsey.

Lindsey bit her knuckle. “It has to be. I’d recognize those baby blues anywhere. The music videos always showcase them.”

“I wish he was sitting in my section. Do you think it’d be rude to ask for an autograph?” Kim chewed on her lower lip.

“You only live once. I’m sure he gets asked all the time.”

I was so tired I’d only been half-listening to their conversation. As I made my way out to the seating area, I wished I’d paid closer attention. There, leaning casually in a corner booth in my section, was Ace. He dangled an arm over the back of the seat, one booted foot resting on his opposite knee. He wore a distressed black leather jacket, torn jeans, and the sun charm around his neck caught the overhead lights, making it glisten.

I grabbed a pen from the front counter and walked over, crossing my arms. He beamed up at me, dragging a hand through his hair to give it that perfect frame around his face.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.” Ace eyed the grease stains on my apron.

Everyone in the establishment stared at us, whispering to each other and pointing.

“Did you know I worked here?” I tapped the pen against my thigh.

He dropped his propped leg to the floor and leaned on the table with his forearms. “A little birdie told me.”

Kate. I was going to kill her.

“You do realize the sight of you in this puny diner doesn’t make a lot of sense, right?”

“A celebrity can’t grab a coffee and a bite to eat?”

“Sure. But normally, celebs go to high-class sushi places or the steakhouses with framed famous people photos hanging on the walls.”

He chuckled. “Are you denying me service?”

I could see my boss glaring at me from the kitchen, motioning with his head toward Ace.

“Of course, not.” I forced a smile. “What can I get you?”

“Coffee. Black.”

I jotted it down and waited for him to continue.

Silence.

“Coffee? That’s it?”

He leaned back, tracing a permanent round stain on the wooden table with his forefinger. “We’ll see where the night takes us.”

My stomach clenched, and I turned on my heel to duck behind the front counter.

“Would you mind being a little nicer? We’ve never had a rock star in here before,” my boss said, flipping burgers in the kitchen and all but hissing at me.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, grabbing a white ceramic mug.

“Would you ask him for an autograph for me?” Kim asked.

I sighed. “Why can’t you ask him yourself?”

“Me?” She laughed. “I’m not sure I’d remember how to speak in front of him.”

After filling the mug with cheap coffee, I held it by the handle.

“If you want one. You ask. I’ve got work to do.”

She blinked and gave me a disgusted lip curl before I brushed past her and back to Ace’s table.

I set the mug in front of him, and he slid it across the wood.

“Anything else? Or did you plan to let it get cold and ask me to dump it out and get you another?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so hellbent on disliking me?”

A memory of me sobbing on the floor, my ex Jason staring down with a blank stare played in my mind like a projection. He hadn’t even apologized. All he could say was, “It just sort of happened. It won’t happen again.”

Spoiler Alert: It did.

“Laurel?” Ace’s voice boomed, snapping me out of memory purgatory.

The death stare from my boss was blatant, even without looking at him. If he had the power, lasers would’ve shot through the back of my skull.

I pressed my hands to the edge of the table, dropping my head near his so I could talk lower. “Well, you don’t like me, so I guess we’re even.”

He turned his body to face me, and he squinted. “I don’t like you because you don’t like me. Everyone likes me. You’re an enigma.”

“Aww. You meet one person who doesn’t like you, and you get all sad about it?” I stuck out my bottom lip and sniffled like I was crying for him.

“No. Intrigued.” He picked up the mug and sipped from it, peering at me over the rim. He made a face like he’d gotten a whiff of dog shit. “This is horrible.”

“You’re not exactly at the Ritz, Rockstar.” I stood up with a smirk.

“Do you have apple pie here?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll take a slice. You know, to wash down this delicious brew.” He tapped his fingernail against the mug.

“Fine.” I walked to the counter, removing the glass lid from the pie. Lucky for him, there was one slice left. I scooped it onto a plate, grabbed a fork, and returned.

Kim stood near Ace’s table, bouncing up and down as he scribbled on a napkin. She clapped her hands together once he handed it to her.

“Are you done harassing the customers, Kim?” I asked, slipping past her to rest the plate and fork in front of Ace.

She held the napkin like it’d wither away in her hands if she weren’t careful. “I’m done. Look!” She held the napkin up with a deranged smile.

“Lucky you.” I forced another grin.

She trotted off, waving the napkin at Lindsey.

“I can give you one too if you want.” Ace slipped his fork into the pie.

“I’m good, thanks. I’d sooner ask for a guitar pick if anything.”

He dug into his jeans’ back pocket and produced a yellow guitar pick, holding it out to me.

“I was kidding,” I lied.

“No, you weren’t. Take it. I insist.” He waved it back and forth.

I held my hand out, and he dropped it in my palm. It was still warm from him sitting on it. I ran my thumb over the golden embossed sun symbol.

“I’ll uh—add it to my collection.” I dropped it in the pocket of my apron.

He winked and shoved a bite of pie in his mouth. His jaw dropped as soon as it hit his tongue. He grabbed a napkin and discreetly spat it out.

“That tasted like an ashtray.” He eyed the coffee like it’d help take away the flavor.

I tilted my chin. “It’s what happens when a pie’s been sitting in a diner full of smokers all day.”

“You couldn’t warn me?”

“And miss that look on your face? Not a chance.”

We went quiet, peering at each other for a beat, trying to dissect one another. Or at least that’s what I was trying to do.

“Why are you here, Ace?”

He let the fork clank against his plate. “I think you have me all wrong in that pretty little head of yours. By the end of these rehearsals, I guarantee things will be different. I’m making it my mission.”

I put my hands on my hips with a guffaw. “Your mission? To prove to me you’re not an arrogant, egocentric, know-it-all?”

“No. I am all those things.” He twirled one of his rings. “To prove to you I’m more than that.”

He gleamed up at me, his eyes holding me captive. I gulped, and my chest heaved.

How did someone respond to that?

My answer was silence. Utter silence because my brain no longer communicated to my mouth.

He scooted from the booth, dropping several bills on the table. He brushed past me, pressing his lips to my ear. “I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow, Laurel.”

He walked through the diner, smiling and shaking hands with the customers who called out to him before exiting. I clutched the collar of my shirt and scooped the cash into my hand. He’d overpaid by three hundred dollars, and the bills were so warm. So very, very warm.