OffBeat

Considering the amount of food on the table, the plan was to eat for the next few hours, rather than get on the plane to Detroit. And Vanessa Templar was tempted. Her mother knew her well.

Pulling out a chair at the antique table in the spacious dining room, Vanessa inhaled the tantalizing aromas of some of the best food New Orleans had to offer. Her mother being an award-winning chef, at one of the fanciest hotels in the city, certainly had its benefits. After years of ration packs, cafeteria food, and takeout, being spoiled when she came home was always a treat.

A treat she’d enjoyed for the past few months, but no matter how hard her mother tried to convince her, she couldn’t stay. Her new job would be starting within the next few days, one she’d signed on for as a favor to an old friend. After spending some much needed time at home, she was ready to get back out there on her own.

But first, she’d enjoy the time she had left with her parents.

“You never eat enough when you’re working.” Her mother, Zarah Templar, gave her a shrewd look before Vanessa could question the amount of food out loud. She hustled around the table with Vanessa’s plate, filling it enough to feed half a barrack. As she set the plate down in front of Vanessa, her deep brown eyes warmed. “Believe it or not, I’m happy you’ve found a new job. Having you here was lovely, but you’ve become restless.”

Vanessa smiled, waiting for her father to join them before digging into the feast. Her mother was right; she was getting restless without anything to do besides lounge around her childhood home. Being near the old haunts on Bourbon Street didn’t have the appeal of her youth. While she loved the music, the colors, and the atmosphere, Louisiana had become a place to visit, not to stay.

She took a bite of red beans and rice, smiling as her mother gestured wildly while describing a group of tourists who’d come into her restaurant, demanding a table even though they weren’t following the dress code. Her mother had no tolerance for a sloppy appearance and couldn’t understand why some took no pride in how they presented themselves.

Even in her own home, this was as dressed-down as her mother got. A long blue, purple flower-printed frock that came off her smooth, dark brown shoulders, her hair a black and gold cloud around her head, pushed away from her face with a snug blue silk scarf. She’d gained weight since Vanessa had left home, but the curves suited her. And were much better to see than the drawn look she’d had in Vanessa’s teens, when Hurricane Katrina had almost taken everything she’d worked so hard for.

After the devastating floods had already taken so much more.

Across the table, at her mother’s side, her father, Antonio Templar put his hand over her mother’s, the love Vanessa had seen from her earliest memories still shining in his light brown eyes. He’d lost his job as a glazier—or glassworker—after the floods and had trouble finding a new one. But since Zarah made enough to support the family, he’d gotten a chance to explore his love of art and expand his knowledge of working with glass.

Now he had his own little shop, both online and on Canal Street, selling blown glass and lamp work jewelry. She wasn’t surprised when he pulled out a small box just as they finished eating, palming it in his scarred, light brown hand and gesturing for her to come around the table to him.

“Papá, you don’t have to give me gifts all the time.” Vanessa shook her head as he hushed her. Both of them knew she’d accept it, but she hoped he hadn’t given her one of his more time-consuming pieces. He deserved to be paid for the work he put in, and he’d never accept a dime from her.

Fine lines formed around his eyes as he grinned at her. “Only something small, as a farewell gift. Open it.” He placed the box in her hand. “This is something that will suit you, nothing fancy you’ll carefully pack away and only wear to special events you never go to.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “You know I love everything you’ve made for me. I wore the apple blossom earrings to my graduation.”

“Ten years ago, Mamacita.” He let out a soft laugh and patted her hand. “This will be different.”

She could already tell he’d put a lot of thought into the gift, so she couldn’t wait to see what it was. Opening the box, she let out a quiet sound of awe as she took in the small globe-shaped, stud earrings. They were perfect for her to wear every day and still showed his incredible craftsmanship.

Black, with blue and white accents, the glass seemed to contain the galaxy in minute detail. Her eyes teared as she took in the beauty of them, not sure what to say at first. They’d probably taken hours of him working close to the torch, adding the color and working the glass under the heat until he got the effect he was going for.

“I absolutely love them.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, still holding the small box in her hand. “I’ll never take them off.”

“I’m happy you like them. Now go.” He kissed her cheek. “Get your things ready. I’ll help your mother clean up, then drive you to the airport.”

Setting the box on the table, she took out the earrings, eager to put them on and let him see how they looked on her. “I have plenty of time. Let me help too.”

“No, ma’am. You’ll be busy enough over the next few weeks.” Her mother came up beside her father, cupping Vanessa’s cheek and looking at the earrings before nodding with approval. “Very nice. A shame you won’t be able to wear something pretty to go with them. One uniform to another.” Her mother sighed. “I’d hoped you’d get past the stage of wearing all black when you became an adult. Finally dress up in some color! Instead, you found jobs that gave you no options.”

Vanessa’s lips curved. “Green is a color, Mama.”

“Ha!” Her mother shook her head. “Go before I come help you pack. I’m sure I could sneak in a dress or two. Maybe some makeup?”

“I’m going!” Vanessa chuckled as she dashed out of the dining room and hurried upstairs. She didn’t have much left to pack, only the tank top and pajama pants she’d worn last night, along with a few books her mother had bought her, but she wanted to make sure her room was spotless.

Which didn’t consist of much more than fussing with her black comforter to make sure it was perfectly smooth and straightening the alarm clock on her side table. She hadn’t been messy as a child, never mind after ten years in the military.

Still, she lingered, stepping up to the window and gazing out at the length of villas lining the street, all looking much like her parents’ with their little patch of land and wrought iron fences. The homes had all been restored, preserving the timeless beauty, only the smooth new streets and the absence of many trees that had been there for centuries to remind her how things had changed.

Some areas weren’t so lucky. Not even a mile away there were still abandoned buildings. Uneven walkways and streets with large cracks in them. She was happy she’d been here to support her parents and her neighbors through the worst, but only three years later she’d enlisted, leaving all this behind. Her parents had the community to lean on while she was gone, and for that she’d be forever grateful.

Now she was leaving again.

Thankfully, without the regret she’d once had. She’d come here to heal, to figure out what to do next. Having a new purpose felt good, and this place, these people, weren’t the only ones she owed so much to.

Special Forces Sergeant Joshua Mason had retired a month after she was given a medical discharge. They’d been on the same mission. Bore the same scars, though hers included physical ones. She brought her hand to her neck, brushing her fingers over the scar that stretched along the length. Not the wound that had taken her out of action, but had almost taken her life.

Her shoulder replacement surgery had ended her career. She sighed and rolled her shoulders, pleased that there was only a slight stiffness in the left one. Months of physical therapy had her feeling almost normal, but almost wasn’t good enough to resume the life she’d once led.

When the sergeant had called, she’d been confused at first. Then excited. Even knowing she wasn’t one-hundred-percent, he still had faith that she could do the job.

Though he hadn’t been confident she’d want to.

“The only reason the band agreed to have their own security is because the backup singer’s been getting death threats. XVI Hours is… I won’t lie to you. The lot of them are undisciplined, loud, messy, and have a serious case of Peter Pan syndrome.” He let out an exasperated laugh. “Don’t expect the level of maturity that you’re used to.”

Vanessa grinned as she took a bite of one of the French pastries her mother had left her before leaving for work that morning. “It sounds like you like them.”

There was fondness in his tone when he replied. “I do. As crazy as they drive me, I enjoyed my first tour with them and Winter’s Wrath—I’m looking forward to the next one. But I won’t lie. I might as well be asking you to babysit.”

“So long as I’m not changing diapers, I’ll manage.” Her lips slanted. “I assume I’m not allowed to make them cry?”

Mason snorted. “No. They aren’t recruits. You have to be nice.”

“Copy that.” She finished off the beignet and licked the icing sugar off her fingers. “I’ll see you next week.”

Retreating from her bedroom window, she looked over her army green rucksack and her small black knapsack, all she’d need for the next few months. Her mother was right, she’d chosen a job that would require a uniform—black jeans and a black shirt—but that’s where the similarities to being in the military ended. Which was part of the appeal.

She could deal with the chaotic lives of a few rock stars. Even tolerate diva attitudes and pushy fans of the band.

So long as she didn’t have to kill anyone.

Or watch anyone she loved die.

About five hours later, refreshed from her flight after a quick stop at her hotel to drop off her luggage and shower, Vanessa made her way to the office of the bands’ management company, only a few blocks away. The tiny blonde secretary gave her a friendly smile before inviting her to take a seat and offering her some coffee.

“Thank you, but no.” Vanessa smiled back at the woman. “If I have coffee now I’ll be up all night.”

The woman nodded with understanding and picked up the phone on her desk. “Mr. Godstone, Ms. Templar is here to see you.”

Whatever the response was, the secretary didn’t look too pleased. She hung up and sighed. “He has to make a call, but he’ll be with you shortly.

The man’s definition of ‘shortly’ was very different than Vanessa’s. She distracted herself by reading one of the many novels she’d downloaded on her phone, trying not to check the time every five minutes. Several chapters in, she finally got fed up and hit the bookmark tab before closing the app. As she stood, the door leading to the offices opened.

“I think there’s been a mistake.” Raking his fingers through his spikey white hair, a young man, who she assumed was Oakley, walked into the waiting room where he’d left her waiting for the last half-hour. “You can’t be Van Templar. Van Templar is ex-military. Tough. Capable of dealing with large crowds. You need to go.”

Excuse me? Vanessa followed the wiry young man when he spun around and headed back down the hall, ducking into one of the rooms.

She put out her hand to stop the door before he could shut it in her face. “I assure you, there’s no mistake. I had a video conference with Reese Griffith before signing a six-month contract to tour with XIV Hours. Coming here to meet with you was a courtesy.”

“A courtesy? A courtesy would have been to let me know our head of security looks more like a model than a bodyguard. Do you have any idea the potential violence you’ll be dealing with?” Oakley dropped into a chair in the small conference room, rubbing his temples. His strange style of a slim-fitted grey wool waistcoat over black shirt and dark purple jeans only added to the drama of his behavior.

He’d be better suited to a stage, performing some kind of steampunk, off-Broadway production than in the employ of a woman who managed metal bands.

Where did Reese find this guy?

“The lead singer was in jail not long ago. The backup singer was sent graphic pictures of crime scenes with promises that she’ll be next. The lot of them like to fight and I’ve no interest in dealing with a lawsuit if one of them punches you.”

Settling into the chair across the table from Oakley, Vanessa gave him a level look. “I assure you, I can deal with the band.” Her eyes narrowed. “What I cannot deal with is your attitude.”

His jaw nearly hit the table. He sat back. “My attitude? Ms. Templar, I was expecting a huge, intimidating man who could help me keep a bunch of metalheads in line. Because as you can see—” He gestured to himself. “—I will be incapable of it alone.”

Head cocked to one side, Vanessa studied the man for a moment. “I’ve read up on every member of the band. I’ve no doubt I’ll be suited for the position, but I have to ask… Are you sure you are?”

He blinked at her. Then let out a rough laugh. “No, actually, I’m not. But Reese is my aunt and she believes my skills will be useful. I knew I wasn’t her favorite, but this is the worst kind of punishment.”

“You got the job as a punishment?” Vanessa’s lips twitched. “How very unfortunate.”

“Yes, dying would be very unfortunate.” He shook his head and sighed. “But you are at least ex-military? I’m sorry, my initial reaction might have been…” He cringed, meeting her eyes. “No, it was unprofessional.”

“Extremely.”

“You are gorgeous though. If I were you, I’d look into modeling instead of putting myself in danger. I can’t think of anything less appealing than what we’ll endure over the next two months.” He rubbed his temples again. “And you have a choice.”

She stifled a laugh and shook her head. The man was dramatic, but now that he’d calmed down, she couldn’t help be mildly entertained. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you being punished?”

Oakley made a face. “For the most ridiculous reason. I let my mother buy me a car.”

Vanessa’s brow furrowed. “Okay…?”

“And pay my rent.”

“Umm…”

He groaned. “I promised Aunt Reese I would get a job and stop letting my mother pay for everything. She said I was spoiled and I bet I’d prove her wrong. That if I didn’t manage to establish independence in a month, I’d do things her way.”

She bit back a smirk. “I take it you failed?”

“Phenomenally.” His lips slid into a sheepish grin. “The job was going well. Doing what I love, working on computers all day, avoiding the general public.” He shook his head. “But a friend’s dog got sick and I took a few days off to be there for him, helped him out because vet bills are expensive.” He scratched his jaw. “Then another friend slipped and fractured her arm, so I took a few more days. My boss was not understanding. Neither was my landlord when I couldn’t pay the rent.”

“But your mother understood?”

“She’s…always helped in any way she could.” Oakley rubbed the back of his neck, slouching deeper into the chair. “Aunt Reese convinced her this job would be the perfect opportunity for me to learn to manage on my own.”

“While that may be true, how is that what’s best for the band?” Or my sanity? She might be amused by the man, but dealing with his poor-little-rich-boy attitude would get old fast. “I’m assuming you don’t have any experience?”

“The band can’t afford better than me. I’m expected to learn from Winter’s Wrath’s tour manager. While you’ll be learning from their head of security. You can bring on two more bodyguards once you’re established—if you think we need them…” His lips thinned. “But until then, we’re on our own.”

“And I’m sure we’ll do fine.” Her lips quirked at his doubtful look. “You might want to tone down the hysterics until after you’ve met the band. They might surprise you.”

“I doubt that very much.” He sighed and pushed out of his chair. “But I don’t have a choice, now do I?”

“I bet if you call your mother, she’ll rescue you from the big bad metal band.”

“Ha ha.” He wrinkled his nose. “You’re not going to make this easier on me, are you?”

She arched a brow. “If you’re not in physical danger, it’s not my problem.”

“Great.” He braced his hands on the desk and bowed his head, mumbling to himself. “Just great.”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Vanessa took the files Oakley handed her about the latest threats to the band and excused herself. She’d be spending enough time with the melodramatic tour manager on the bus. Today, she’d enjoy her last bit of normalcy.

Hopefully, Oakley was wrong about the band.

Otherwise, the next two months were going to be hell.