First Kiss

  First Kiss

  A Novel by Tara Brown

  Copyright 2013 Tara Brown

  http://TaraBrown22.blogspot.com

  Amazon Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No alteration of content is permitted. This book is a work of fiction, any similarities are coincidental. All characters in this fictional story are b

  ased entirely on the crazed mind of the author and are not based on any human. Any similarities are by chance and not intentional.

  This book is dedicated to my fans—thank you so much. The interest and support has been amazing. I also must thank my husband and children. You supported me, even when I was in my writer’s frenzy.

  Cover Art by Once Upon a Time Covers

  Edited by Andrea Burns

  Thank you Nick (sexiest proofreader ever).

  A special thanks to Mani, Katy, and my friends The Nators. Thank you all.

  To the girls at Triple M, I love you ladies.

  Other Books by Tara Brown

  The Devil’s Roses

  Cursed

  Bane

  Witch

  Hyde

  Death

  The Born Trilogy

  Born

  Born to Fight

  Reborn

  The Light Series

  The Light of the World

  The Four Horsemen

  Imaginations

  Imaginations

  The Blood Trail Chronicles

  Vengeance

  Blackwater Witches

  Blackwater

  The Single Lady Spy Series

  The End of Me

  The End of Games

  My Side

  The Long Way Home

  The Lonely

  LOST BOY

  A note from the author

  This is another one of those weird books I fear you will either love or hate!!

  I don’t know why they always end up weird, hope you like it!!

  There is a house at the end of an empty road, where many a man have lost their soul.

  Sweetest love's first kiss is enough to guarantee the payment to the dead.

  It was there in the mist and the warmth of her embrace, I met my end.

  I shall never rest again.

  Nor shall any man who gives his heart to a lady of The Loch.

  Chapter One

  The leaves scuttle along the road, scratching in protest as the wind forces their destination.

  The cool spring breeze that comes off the lake is worse than any I recall this late into spring. It’s nearly the middle of June, and I am still clinging to my sweater as I hurry to my gig. I wish I had put on an undershirt, but I had to hurry before Mary saw me leaving. She has been prickly lately, more so than normal.

  Unfortunately for us all, Maine isn’t typically what you would call a warm state but this spring has been ridiculous. I can’t fight the small niggle inside of me that says the cold wind is my fault. The way it follows me about is odd, even if I pretend it isn’t there.

  I try not to see the way the leaves fall from the trees, long before they're due, as I walk under them. I work hard at not noticing the way the breeze seems to follow me, cooling everything around me. I have to try to ignore it all. It really is the only way.

  In my family, pretending none of it is there is survival. Our lives have been this way for hundreds of years. Or so I have been told by the gracious people of our town. Their families have passed down stories of things my family has done.

  I walk through the back door of the pub, clinging to my guitar and taking deep breaths. I try not to think about the crowd or the eyes that will be upon me, judging me as I always imagine them to be.

  I stand in the back, in the dark little room and wait. It's there in the dark that I can't help but feel like maybe something has changed in the air. If I really look there is a difference, like the air sparkles somehow. Normally, for me change is good and different is like a miracle, but this change doesn’t feel like an improvement. It feels like danger. There is something in the back of my mind that is picking at me, trying to warn me maybe.

  Whatever it is, I can't worry about it now. I have to perform. I need the money. At least the wind hasn’t followed me inside, this time. That is one of the harder things about me to ignore or explain—the indoor breeze that always seems to be there rattling doors or swaying curtains.

  I look around and wait for Mike to announce me. My fingers tremble a little, but I know that once I’m up there, it will be better. Somehow and some way, it always is, like exposing myself to the evil townsfolk makes me relax.

  In a twisted way.

  They all hate me or at the very least, fear me, and yet, I want nothing like I want to show them how normal I am. I can't stop caring about the way they see me. I can’t stop wishing I fit in.

  "You're up. I’ll announce you now."

  I lift my face and grin at the man standing in the sliver of light of the open door. "Thanks, Mike."

  "Yup." He is always cool toward me. Most men are. Most men fear the curse. I blush and try not to think about it. If I ignore it, it isn’t real.

  I take a deep breath and open the guitar case, pulling the six-string from it. My palms sweat and my heart beats like mad as I walk to the stage door. I’m shivering but I’m excited.

  Again, in a twisted way.

  "Next up, we have the talented Erralynn Lake performing for you. This is her last summer here in Lakeland, so let’s help her out by leaving tips at the bar. College ain’t cheap, people. Please, give her a round of applause."

  As I walk on stage, the room cheers. It isn’t their best effort. I’m not like the other performers this stage sees. I have to earn their applause. I have no family or friends in the crowd.

  A trickle of guilt hits me when I think about the fact they'll be leaving tips for college. I’m not going to college. I never went last year, and I have no intention of going this year. Even though I don’t plan on going to college, the tips will help me move. Because, like the man said, this is my last summer in Lakeland—it has to be. I have to get away from here, from her, but I can’t leave before I turn nineteen. I hate this town, and I hate who I am here and nineteen is almost here. I can’t wait to get away. I’ve never liked it. We moved here when I was ten, and it has never gotten better—not even a tiny bit. I had to fit in the best way I could but I am still one of them—one of the Lakes, or Lachlans before we changed our name to Lake, following so many accidents.

  The bar goes silent. Creepy quiet. I can hear my heartbeat and exhales, as if I were alone in the dark closet Mary used to lock me in when my mom first died. The heat from the lamps blinds me and makes me sweat.

  The applause comes softly as my fingers lightly grace the guitar strings, just testing the sound. The clapping starts slowly but builds up into wild gratitude and excitement as my lips turn up into a grin. I stand in front of them all and look into the lights. My nerves vanish as I let the warmth of the room wrap around me. I close my eyes and lean into the mike. "Good evening. Thanks for coming out tonight." My voice cracks. The talking, for me, is worse than anything.

  I clear my throat and let it all go.

  It takes a second for my body to relax into it. I pick at the strings softly, dragging my callused fingers in a fluid motion. My flawless sound is honestly made. It is from the pure love I feel for the music. I have always loved music. It is one of the few joys in my life. My lips part a
nd the song trickles out, lazily at first. I always imagine it is like making out. Slow and flirtatious initially, then the kisses become desperate and the fingers knead with hopeless passion. Eventually, the two bodies move against each other in opposite directions, and yet toward the same goal.

  This is how I feel about music. Mostly because all I can do is imagine making out. I have never kissed a boy. I may never kiss a boy. I must never have a child to carry on the curse. Not that I am silly enough to believe a child comes from kissing, but it all starts somewhere. Sometimes, in my family, death comes from a single kiss.

  My guitar and my voice battle to a climax that makes beads of sweat drizzle down my throat and into my shirt. I am part of it all, yet feel completely detached from it. Like I’m watching myself perform. Like I am someone else. Someone on a horse, riding through the countryside like in the dream I have that reoccurs. Or the other dream where I am the girl in the mask at the ball, having my first of true love’s kiss.

  When I sing I am there. I can feel the wind in my hair. I don’t notice them, the people in the crowd. I don’t notice the way they shout and cheer. I ignore it all. I rock and sway with the music and my guitar and I imagine a world where I am something beyond the curse girl. I don’t notice how long I am there on stage or how many songs I sing. I just sing until I feel done.

  The music stops like it’s turned off. I pause and I look up, noticing the lights again. When I see them, I know I’m finished.

  I tremble and take a bow, wishing Sarah were here to take my guitar, but she had studying to do for the end of the year. Silence fills the room, just as it always does. It’s like the crowd needs a second too, before they erupt into violent cheers.

  I turn and leave the stage, waving at them all.

  "Erralynn Lake, people. Give it up for Lakeland's very own." Mike's deep voice calls out to the crowd.

  It always takes me about fifteen minutes to come back down afterward. The high I get is intense.

  I sit on my barstool in the back and take a deep breath. I watch a trickle of sweat slither down my arm; it’s familiar to me somehow. Not the sweat but the arm. The way I have a few freckles on it or the slender look of it. It is like my mother’s. I know I look so much like her, we could almost be mistaken for twins. I like that because not much is ever familiar. I don’t recall a lot about my family. My memories have been pushed to the back of my mind to make room for the horrible things Mary does to me. They are all I seem to recall. I have flashes of memories, of Mom. That’s all that’s left of my family, flashes. Rosie is the only one I really remember.

  Mike comes backstage as I’m doing my case up and slaps a wad of cash into my hand, “See ya next week, kid.”

  I nod, “Thanks, Mike.”

  “Yup.” He waves and walks away. My fingers twitch as I finish putting the guitar away and walk out the back door, to where the wind has waited for me. I shiver when my sweat and the cool breeze meet on my exposed throat and I stuff the majority of the money into my back pocket. I always do so I only have the fifty to give Mary in my main pocket. She doesn’t know about the tips; she doesn’t need to.

  "Ready?" a voice asks from the alley as I get outside.

  I look sharply to where a group of girls waits for me with smiles. We agreed they would pick me up from the pub when I finished. I nod, "Can I stash the guitar in the back of your car?"

  My bestie Lune, short for Luanne, laughs. "Yeah. Let's go before all the hotties are taken and we end up either alone or with the bottom feeders."

  I roll my eyes and link arms with her, “I never end up with a hottie anyway.”

  Sarah, my other friend, giggles, “Maybe tonight is the night.”

  I stick my tongue out at her. She smiles, "How was it? Sorry I had to study."

  "It was a good one, I think."

  "Let's go get Lynnie some man meat!" Lune does a kissy face at me and moans.

  "Lune, you're a weirdo." I say in the most loving way. She really is but that is the thing I adore about her. When I got here as a new kid at school, she was the first one brave enough to befriend the Lake girl. She is the only reason I haven’t run away or done something worse.

  The blonde's face splits into a grin, "Yet, you love me. What fun is it to be a wanker, if you’re all alone? You, my friend, are in good company."

  I laugh and shake my head, "Sometimes, I think you need a support group."

  She winks a blue eye, "Oh, I got one. Don’t you worry about me. Now, I need some hot-boy loving, so let's go."

  A brunette named Maggie, getting into the car on the other side, laughs, "Dirty ho."

  Lune puts her hands up innocently and gives us a mischievous grin, "You know it. Best friends with the one and only Erralynn Lake. You have to be weird to keep up."

  The brunette nods, "Agreed."

  I frown, trying to make a joke out of it all, "I’m not a dirty ho. When did being dirty amount to being weird? And how is it I'm the bar for what's weird in this town?" I speak before I really think it through. My face flushes crimson when they all stop talking and climb into the car.

  Of course, I am the bar for what is weird. In this town and every town. I don’t remember what my town was like before we moved here, but I bet I was weird there too. I bet the wind chased me and boys feared me.

  I look down and carry my guitar to the trunk. I slam it and climb into the front seat, looking down at my jeans and trying not to let it get to me. I’m almost free of it all, and then I can be the girl from my dreams.

  Lune turns around to look at the girls in the back seat but points at me. "This girl is the most normal person you all know. Just for the record."

  They laugh. Maggie crosses her arms and gives me a smirk, "Your family makes you guilty by association, Lynnie." She winks but I know it is the truth. I am guilty because of my last name.

  I cock an eyebrow at her, "Guilty by relation, and I choose not to believe in any of it." And that is the truth. It is a choice to be cursed and I choose no. No curse, no bad juju, no family problems. Well, except for insanity and being horribly gullible, that we are famously guilty of. The rest, I force myself to believe is a lie, a con, and a joke. I am guilty of being named Lake but that is all.

  Jenny, the raven-haired girl in the back left corner, puts her knuckles forward, "I don’t believe it either."

  I pound my knuckles against hers.

  Lune points a finger at the other two, "You morons are easily fooled. A couple freak accidents and the whole town starts screaming witch and you whores jump on the bandwagon. Lynnie never even grew up here, she’s from Maryland."

  Maggie laughs, "Few accidents . . . dude. There isn’t a Lake man alive. And how do we know there isn’t a Maryland chapter of evil Lakes?"

  I turn around in a fake huff, "It isn’t a club. You guys suck." I don’t mean it and I hope they don’t either. I can't even help but be glad they’re all home from college for the summer. It’s been a hard year being here.

  Mary has been worse than usual and Sarah is busy a lot with guys. She dates and I sit at home until she gets home and calls to fill me in. I close my eyes and listen to the details and wish they were mine. Lune, Maggie, and Jenny do the same from school. They don’t know silent tears roll down my cheeks as they tell me about their wonderful nights, the boys and the kisses, the sex, and butterflies in their tummies. The horrid feeling the next day, when they realize he wasn’t as hot as their beer goggles told them he was, or he's married. I wish it were me. I wish for once I could regret everything. I wish I could just be reckless. But it isn’t my life I’m gambling with. No, the Lake women always live through it. The men are the unlucky ones.

  Lune smiles and nudges me, "Let’s get trashed and see if any suckers try to hit on you."

  I scoff, "You know they don't mess with the Loch monsters."

  Jenny whacks me on the top of the head softly, "You're a dork."

  We laugh. They laugh at me and I try to laugh with them.

  “I can’t beli
eve school is finally over and we are all home! This is going to be the best summer ever.” They all scream and shout. Lune presses the stereo on and cranks the newest Kesha song. "You see the video?" she screams over top of the blasting song.

  I shake my head, "No."

  "Dude, it's like porn."

  I frown, "Thanks for the warning." I know I will have to Google it when I get home. If I can get on the computer. If Mary doesn’t feel like smacking me around.

  Lune laughs and passes me her phone, “It’s still open in YouTube. Just watch it—lord knows Mary isn’t going to let you watch that trash at her house.”

  I touch the YouTube app and watch the video as Lune pulls into the driveway of the packed mansion. Every light is on inside making the driveway feel darker. Sam Collins is rich, very rich. His parents’ house is massive and they don’t care if we party here. They never have cared because they never have been home. Sam has pretty much raised himself.

  Lune takes her phone, “Slutty, huh?”

  I nod, “I kinda wish I could just be like her.”

  Lune rolls her eyes, “All girls do. Kesha is, like, taking no prisoners. She is running her shit.”

  When I get out of the car, the wind rushes me, as if grateful it has caught up to me. I ignore it. Lune has parked against the curb of the long driveway, under a huge tree. The leaves dump, as I take my first few steps towards the house, and flit across the grass. I ignore them; leaves shouldn’t fall in the spring and they shouldn’t chase me down the road like they're my children.

  "We bringing the guitar, Lynnie?" Sarah asks as she rounds the back of the car.

  I look at their faces and sigh, "Fine, but only one song."

  Lune squeals and pops the trunk.

  Sarah grabs it and runs for the front door before I can change my mind.

  I glance at Maggie and frown, "You gotta sing backup, k?"