Forget-Me-Not Read online

  FORGET-ME-NOT

  Sahara Kelly

  Copyright 2011 by Sahara Kelly

  Smashwords Edition

  Visit Sahara Kelly's Smashwords Author Page

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  (Originally published as "I Will Remember", this edition

  has been extensively revised and re-edited.

  Cover Art Copyright 2011 Sahara Kelly)

  Respectfully dedicated to the wondrously talented people who orchestrate our lives with their music. I live in envy of their talent and can't imagine a world without them. Long may we be able to close our eyes and lose ourselves in their music.

  Chapter One

  His jeans were pushed down to his knees and her legs locked around his waist. Their bodies meshed as she clamped herself on him and he thrust savagely into her. Their groans and the noise of their flesh pounding filled the small backstage ladies' room as Valli Solo wearily pushed open the door.

  "Oh for Chrissake..."

  Shivering, nauseous and bleary-eyed, she stared at them as if the lovers were aliens from Mars. "Get a room, Sandy."

  It was her sound man, a virile and handsome young guy who did good work with the complex speaker system, and apparently with his other assets as well, if the expression of ecstasy on the woman's face was anything to go by. Neither of them paid a lick of attention to the interruption.

  "I'm gonna throw up again. Just wanna warn you." Valli made it to the stall and promptly did as she had foretold. Several times. Noisily.

  When she finally emerged, aching and feeling like death warmed over, the room was empty. Obviously Sandy had either taken her advice or just taken his little booty call elsewhere. At this point, Valli couldn't care less. She rinsed and spat, the cold water washing away the taste of bile from her mouth. God, she was so frickin' sick...

  The noise of the crowd outside was muted here in the backstage bathroom, but she could still hear the chants. "Val-li, Val-li, Val-li..." Ordinarily, it would have fueled her energy, given her a boost that got her back onstage for her curtain call and another song--maybe two.

  But tonight, she felt like shit.

  Staring in the grubby mirror, she looked at herself. Her eyes were red, her forehead beaded with sweat, her skin had a greenish tinge to it and her body was racked with shivers. Yep, it was the flu. She hadn't eaten much all--not that she chowed down before a show, but still--her stomach was empty and getting emptier every time she threw up. Which was getting to be all too frequent.

  She swallowed harshly, rinsed her mouth again and reached for a paper towel.

  "You're sick, darlin'."

  A gratingly sensuous voice sounded behind her and she glanced in the mirror to see a woman standing there. Long tousled hair and some kind of hippie dress met her gaze, then swam a little in the distorted glass.

  "No shit. Thanks for pointing that out." Valli pressed her hands to her eyes for a moment.

  "You oughta rest."

  Sighing, Valli opened her eyes again. "Look, doll, if you want an autograph, check with my manager. The dude with the bling backstage. Right now, as you so accurately pointed out, I'm sick. I'm puking my guts up, if you want the truth. It's this damn flu bug. You hang around me, you'll probably get it too."

  She ran her hands through her sandy blonde hair in an attempt to get it into some kind of order and not a sweaty mess plastered to her forehead and cheeks. "Oh, by the way. That Woodstock princess look? It's so yesterday, honey."

  The woman looked pained. "I didn't wear this one to Woodstock. Maybe I should have. It is one of my faves." She stroked her hands over the tie dyed sleeves with a frown.

  Valli blinked at the reflection, then turned.

  And there was nobody there.

  She closed her eyes as a wave of nausea swept dizziness over her entire body and made her cling to the sink."Crap. Now I'm hallucinating."

  "No you ain't, babe. I know hallucinating, believe me. This just isn't it."

  Opening her eyes slowly, Valli's skin prickled as she realized the image was still there and still talking. Well, maybe hallucinations did that. Maybe she'd passed out on the floor and this was all a dream. She was dreaming that she was talking to the one and only Janis--no last name necessary--who'd made Bobby McGee a household word, introduced faded jeans into the lexicon of all-time great music quotes and passed away much too soon.

  The woman smiled. "I'm not a dream. Honest. I'm here to ask for something. I guess it's a favor. But not." She chuckled, her husky laugh echoing around the rest room.

  Valli shrugged. Might as well play along. At least this wasn't an axe-wielding hallucination. It could've been a lot worse.

  "What? You want me to dedicate a song to you? I can do that. You deserve one if not a whole concert." Wearily, Valli closed her eyes. "I have all your songs. I used to imagine I'd be you someday." She opened her eyes again. "You don't want me to score some LSD or something, do you? Not even for a weird trippy vision will I touch that shit."

  "Shhh." Janis stopped the rambling with a gesture. "Couldn't even if I wanted to. And I don't. I learned my lesson the hard way." She grimaced. "Can't even get a contact high these days. Pretty crappy, ya know? I miss it sometimes." She looked pensive for a moment or two, then shrugged. "Hey, I ain't complaining. Morrison does enough of that for both of us."

  Valli blinked. "The Jim Morrison?"

  "There's another one?"

  "Uhh..."

  The woman in the reflection lifted her hand and damned if Valli didn't feel a light touch on her cheek. "Look kid, I like your music. But right now you're tired and sicker than a dog. You need a rest and you're gonna get one real soon. You're gonna meet someone. A man. He needs your help, Valli. He needs your songs. It's real important, baby. Only a strong woman like you can help him. He'd turn his back on anyone else."

  "Who is this man?" Valli struggled to make sense of it all, but her eyes refused to focus properly on whatever or whoever it was she was looking at.

  "You'll know. He'll need to hear your songs, Valli. He'll need your voice and your heart. We all will. He's that important, you dig?"

  There was an odd silence, the sounds of the audience gone, the very air around them still and quiet. Valli's chilled skin broke out in goose bumps. She so did not understand any of this.

  "No. I don't dig. Not a damn word." Bravely, she faced the product of her imagination.

  "Ah shit. Never mind. You will. Remember, kid. Songs and passion. They'll hold the key to unlock what a man's mind hides away..."

  "I --uh --"

  Another curl of sickness roiled in Valli's gut and she groaned, clinging to the cold porcelain of the sink and closing her eyes, fighting down the urge to vomit. This bug was the worst ever.

  Coming off yet another three-month tour and with two shows left, Valli was bone-weary, exhausted and a ripe target for the Outer Mongolian flu, or whatever the medical profession was calling it this year. She'd worked hard, hadn't slept as much as she should have and now she was paying the price.

  She was upchucking, seeing things and talking to herself about things she didn't understand. Charlie, her manager, had already suggested an extended vacation, but she hadn't been interested. Her life was her music. If she couldn't perform, she wasn't really alive.

  At this point, however, clammy with fever and fighting to stay upright, not living for a while didn't seem such a bad option.

  And who the hell was Janis really, and didn't she have a couple of aspirins or something tucked away under he
r tie-dyed gypsy maxi dress?

  "Remember, Valli. Remember your songs..."

  "Like I'm going to forget 'em--" Valli opened her eyes...the illusion was gone. In its place was the dull green institutional paint of the ladies' room, the beginnings of a massive headache and a total inability to stand up straight anymore.

  With a final sigh of resignation and a passing wish that hallucinations would make sense for once instead of burbling on with vague clues about nothing in particular, Valli let go and passed out.

  ----

  The next few days drifted by in a blur. There were moments of lucidity when Valli's body ached from head to foot and she wished for unconsciousness just to ease the throbbing agony.

  Then there were the periods of unconsciousness where she couldn't feel anything at all. It was, in a nutshell, horrible.

  Finally, she awoke.

  She was in a large room, lying comfortably in the middle of a big bed under a soft and puffy quilt, surrounded by the fragrance of something green and fresh and bathed in sunshine.

  Squinting a little, she looked around.

  "Hi darlin'. How you feeling?" It was Charlie, her manager, leaning toward her with a worried look on his face.

  "I--" Valli coughed, cleared her throat and gladly accepted the glass of water Charlie held out. It soothed the roughness and she found she could speak without croaking.

  "Where am I?" Logical question.

  "Back amongst the living, thank God." Charlie leaned back with a sigh of relief. "You scared the crap out of us, baby."

  "Didn't do much for me either." Valli's gaze wandered around the room. "This is nice. Hospital?"

  Charlie shook his head. "Nope. You only had the flu. A real nasty case of the flu, but the flu nonetheless. Coupled with the toll our tour took on your strength and you have exhaustion, overall weakness and a complete inability to deal with something as simple as a bug. No hospitalization, but an order to rest and recuperate for at least two weeks." He grinned. "So we got you a suite here. It's the Rolling Hills Center for Recovery."

  Valli blinked as she recognized the name of one of the most elite rehabilitation centers in the Napa Valley. "But I'm not detoxing from anything. I don't need rehab."

  Charlie chuckled. "Everyone knows that. Miss Clean-livin' doesn't drink, do drugs or have indiscriminate children by a variety of fathers." He nodded at her with a paternally affectionate smile. "But it turned out that Rolling Hills also has a genuine recovery wing. A place for folks to get their strength back. Some come here after surgery. Some come here after plastic surgery. It's totally private and they've got nice people, a great secure environment--you'll be waited on, hand and foot, until you're on your feet again."

  "Oh." Valli thought about that. "What about the last two dates?"

  "Cancelled." Charlie shrugged. "People actually seemed to understand when we pointed out where you'd been and what you'd done over the last few months. Plus this damn bug has laid out half the state. A few schools are closed because of it. People are dropping like flies and you can't find an aspirin on a drugstore shelf at the moment."

  "Hmm." Valli leaned back. "So how long am I in for?"

  "The docs tell me it'll take at least two weeks of rest and good food to get you back into working order. No outside contact other than me. That means no concerts, no stress, no fans--nothing, babe. Just peace and quiet."

  "What's that?" Valli laughed softly. "It's been so long, I've almost forgotten."

  Charlie laughed with her. "It's what Marla and I plan on having. A little enforced vacation. We'll be nearby. Got ourselves a super room, thanks to you, sweetie."

  Valli lifted an eyebrow at him.

  "Hey, I'm not above using your name to get a good deal." He grinned. "We plan on doing some wineries, having some of that awesome Napa Valley food and probably a lot of really nice relaxed sex."

  Valli gulped. "Too much info, Charlie." She felt her cheeks heating. Charlie and his wife Marla had been there for her as long as she could remember. They'd helped her write and record her first song. They'd shot the photos for the cover of her first album. And they'd held her in their arms when her parents had been killed in a boating accident. Life without them was unimaginable.

  She certainly loved them dearly, but equally certainly didn't want to think about them having sex. It just was wrong on a lot of levels she couldn't begin to explain. Her thoughts drifted...

  "Charlie?"

  "Mmm?"

  "D'you believe in the paranormal?"

  "Uh- you mean like ghosts and stuff?"

  "I guess."

  "Well, my granny used to say there were more things in Heaven and earth that we could dream of."

  "She was quoting Shakespeare. Hamlet, I think."

  Charlie looked confused. "She was?"

  "Never mind." Valli settled back, tired, but at ease. The pains had gone. The fever had gone. She could rest comfortably now...there'd be time to think about it all later...

  Later, in Valli's case, took two days to arrive.

  Finally she'd showered, washed her hair and regained her humanity. She'd even hummed a few bars of her latest song under the stream of hot water. She still had moments of weakness and a pair of legs that resembled al dente spaghetti more than limbs, but what the hell. She didn't hurt, wasn't throwing up and the sun was shining.

  She was ready to go check out her temporary home.

  Valli had been to northern California before, but never with the opportunity to just stay in one place and absorb the beauty of the blue sky or feel the hot dry brush of the heat on her skin.

  Arm in arm with Carol, her nurse for the day, Valli strolled outside into a lush garden, complete with several fountains, a small waterwheel, a pond and, to her surprise, a couple of swans.

  "Wow." She blinked at the masses of rosebushes just bursting with a rainbow of buds.

  "Yeah. Pretty nice, huh?" Carol looked around her with satisfaction. "One of our guests is a whiz at gardens."

  "Lord, he could make a fortune doing this professionally."

  "He did. Unfortunately, the pressure got to him and he started eating the koi on one of his jobs."

  "Oh dear." Valli tried not to giggle. "A sushi fan, huh?"

  Carol rolled her eyes. "Not any more."

  Valli watched a couple of hummingbirds darting through a hedge of hibiscus, sticking their sharp beaks into the enormous blooms and looking like moths with a steroid problem.

  Suddenly a shriek echoed around them and Valli jumped as the hummingbirds took off with enough velocity to get them sub-orbital in no time flat.

  "Relax." Carol patted her arm. "The detox wing is on the far side of the grounds. Sometimes you'll hear that sort of thing from that way. Getting off that stuff can be rough."

  Valli blinked. "Yeah, but sheesh. That sounded awful."

  "Well, when they need a hit and don't get it, bad things happen to their brains." She looked away. "Take this garden. You see it as it is, full of beauty and sunshine. Someone coming off a serious habit can see it as full of monsters. Snakes on the ground, acid pouring from the fountains--the mind's an odd thing, Valli. It makes its own hell sometimes."

  "I guess. Thank God I never took that route."

  "Amen to that." Carol smiled approvingly. "And, by the way, I love your music."

  Valli smiled back. "Thanks."

  Her steps had slowed and Carol turned them both back the way they'd come. "That's it for today, I'm thinking. Slow and steady. Little more tomorrow and we'll have you back to normal in next to no time."

  Tired now, Valli nodded. "No arguments from me."

  Walking slowly back through the sunshine, a movement caught Valli's eye and she paused, looking between two large trees onto a small patio the other side of her room.

  There was a man there, clad only in sweatpants, doing push-ups on the adobe brick.

  "Oh. Oooh."

  There was a moment of silent female appreciation between the two women that needed no words.
r />   Tousled black hair fell over the man's cheeks, sweat dappled the muscular back and his arms tensed and relaxed majestically with each movement.

  "Shit. Wouldn't you like to be underneath that?" Valli wondered if she was drooling.

  "Tell me about it." Carol was looking pretty heated herself. "Don't think we haven't tried."

  "Really? What, he's gay?" Valli twisted her lips into a grimace. "Dear God, please don't tell me he's gay?"

  "Don't think so." Carol fanned herself. "He likes to flirt. But he won't take it any further."

  "Drugs? Alcohol?" Valli lifted an eyebrow. "It would be too much to hope he's a sex addict?"

  "I shouldn't..." Carol looked awkwardly around them. "Okay, since it's you...here's the deal. We don't know what or who he is. Neither does he."

  "Huh?"

  Carol tapped her forehead. "Amnesia. Total amnesia too--very rare. Not just one episode. He can't remember his name or anything at all about himself or his past."

  Valli was amazed. "How'd he get here?"

  "One of our directors found him outside her house. He was disoriented, had a few bruises and since she was on her way to a board meeting here, she brought him along. He's been here ever since."

  "She covering the cost?" Valli looked back at him speculatively.

  "Actually, no. One of our physicians specializes in higher brain functions. This guy was a perfect study, so we're chalking his room up to the research overhead." Carol licked her lips. "And enjoying the view."

  "Yeah. I'm on board with that aspect."

  The man finished his workout and stood, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat off a chest that Valli could've eaten whole. Without her usual side of fries. "No name at all, huh?"

  "We call him John Dish. John Doe just didn't seem to cut it." Carol had tipped her head to one side as John stretched out his muscles.

  Valli's head was tilting the same way. "Well, damn. I can sure see why."