Melody: Beautiful Series, book three

by Anderson, Lilliana

  Like all those weeks before, my hand develops a mind of its own and reaches up, lightly running my fingertips along the stubble on his jaw. He tilts his head slightly, pressing against my hand as he closes his eyes and releases his breath.

  “This is a bad idea,” he murmurs as he opens his eyes to meet mine once more.

  “I know,” I whisper, keeping my hand on his face as I move my fingers, caressing the coarse hair.

  Slowly, we move towards each other, our mouths just a hair’s breadth away from touching. But we hesitate, eyes locked. I nudge forward, hoping to close the gap, but my hope plummets when he turns his head at the last moment. No.

  “I can’t,” he growls. “Damn it, I can’t.” He pulls away, getting off the bed so he’s standing a safe distance from me. I make a move to follow him, but when he holds up his hands, I freeze. “I made the guys promise not to touch you. I can’t break my own rule. This would fuck up the band. If Marcus found out….” He shakes his head, raking at his hair.

  “It’s OK,” I whisper. “It’s bad timing.” I’m blinking rapidly to keep the tears from spilling. Rejection sucks.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “Fuck.” He gestures to the door, takes one step towards it, then another back to me. He looks at me, a pained expression crosses his features before he makes for the door again. This time not coming back.

  As soon as the door clicks shut, I bury my face in my pillows and cry. Between the two Bailey brothers my emotions are an absolute wreck. I have one who would sleep with me in a heartbeat if I let him, and one who I want to sleep with who won’t do anything about it. I understand that giving in to this is a terrible idea. But oh god, I want Theo. Even if it’s only once.

  Theo

  Holy shit. I almost kissed her. If one of the other guys did what I just did, I would throttle them. This band and all we’ve worked for are too important. And as much as I want to kill the guy most of the time, my relationship with my brother is also too important. I can’t let this get messed up over some girl. Family comes first. The band comes second. And girls are a distant third.

  But this girl is Naomi. A girl you’ve been in love with for years.

  A girl Marcus is in love with too.

  There’s no middle ground here. No winning. Either we all lose, or one of us does. And we know how I like things to be fair…

  I rest my forehead against the outside of her door. My entire body aches to go to her, especially when I hear her muffled sobs coming through the door. Shit. I place my hand on the wood and listen. God. I hate myself right now.

  Twenty-Five

  Naomi

  “Nomes.” I hear my name accompanied by banging on my door. Forcing my eyes to open, it takes a moment to focus and realise where I am. “Naomi.” It’s more insistent this time.

  “I’m coming,” I call out, my voice croaky from sleep as I roll out of bed and trudge towards the door. I open it fully, finding Marcus on the other side. Why does his face piss me off this morning? Oh, that’s right. His brother knocked me back last night, and I fell asleep feeling angry towards Marcus for interfering all those years ago and making things difficult now.

  “Fucking look at the time.” He points at his watch. “It’s after lunch and we need to go to the venue to get everything ready for tonight.”

  “Oh shit! I’ve been asleep all this time?” I spin on my heel and grab a towel, running for the bathroom to have a shower. The towel gets ripped out of my hands, stopping me in my tracks.

  “You don’t have time for a shower. Get some fucking clothes on, grab your violin, and we’ll meet you downstairs.”

  I nod and run to the bathroom anyway, splashing some water over my face and grabbing a mouthful of Listerine. I swish it around as I quickly strip and grab a pair of black leggings and a grey tank top and throw them on my body. I rush into the bathroom and spit the mouthwash down the sink, holding my tongue out as it burns from the prolonged use of the mouthwash. I continue my rush and shove my feet into my boots, grab my violin case, my bag and hurry out the door.

  When I make it to the lifts, the door is closing and Marcus is inside. “Wait,” I call out, running for the closing doors. He reaches over and presses the button to open them again, smiling as I bustle inside the cabin.

  “You could have brushed your hair.” He laughs. “I would have waited.”

  I poke my tongue out at him as I turn around and look at the mirrored back wall. “Oh, fuck,” I moan. I certainly don’t rock the sexy bedhead look. It looks more like a family of birds has been nesting on my head all night.

  Running my fingers through the tangles, I do my best comb it out. “This is a disaster.” I don’t have much time before the elevator doors ping open, and we’re on the ground floor.

  “Leave it,” Marcus says, blocking the doors with this hand as he steps out. “You’re hot even when you’re a mess.”

  “That’s what you tell every girl,” I say, spinning around and following him, even though I’m still trying to smooth my hair.

  “Nope. That’s something I only say to you,” he says, catching me by the hand.

  “What are you doing?” I ask when he takes me by the shoulders and spins me around.

  “Fixing your damn hair.” He rakes his fingers over my scalp, dragging my hair together before securing it in a ponytail on my head. “Done. Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and drags me towards the exit while I try to catch my reflection in every shiny surface we pass.

  “Where did you get an elastic?” I say, touching my hair to check everything is in place.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Sure I do.”

  He leads me to the rental car and pulls the back door open. “I carry one in my wallet.”

  Stopping before I climb inside, I frown up at him. “Why?” What an odd thing to carry around.

  Clearing his throat, he shifts on his feet. “Because I like pulling hair, but I don’t like it whipping me in the face.”

  My mouth opens and forms and O. He keeps hair elastics next to his condoms. “It’s not used is it?” Because, ew. I don’t want to wear his groupie sex elastic.

  “No. I use a fresh one every time.”

  “Just like a condom, huh?”

  He laughs. “Get in the car, Naomi.”

  “Um…where’s Theo?” I ask when I climb in and only Lachlan and Jack are inside.

  “He went ahead of us to get some technical shit sorted out,” Jack says from the driver’s seat.

  I nod and sit quietly, not sure how I feel about seeing Theo today. I just hope he won’t let it be awkward. I also hope he won’t let it ruin our friendship. Again. I feel kind of stupid now. At the time it felt right, but I never should have leaned in to him.

  “Nervous?” Marcus asks as the Entertainment Centre comes into view. This is the first time any of us have played such a large venue and it’s exciting to be the ones going through the backstage doors for a change.

  “Yeah. You?”

  He nods and rubs his palms along his jean-clad thighs. “Sweaty palms.”

  “Thank god guitars have straps, right?” Lachlan says from the front seat.

  “Just don’t let your pick slip from between your fingers,” Jack teases. “You could put someone’s eye out with those.”

  “We’re gonna do great, guys,” I say. “This is what we’ve been practicing for.”

  Jack steers us through the security checks and we park in our designated spot. There’s a sign with our name on it and everything.

  “Feel like a rock star yet?” Marcus asks, as he slips his arm around my shoulders and walks along beside me to the entrance.

  “None of this feels real,” I reply, absorbing every little detail while we make our way to our band’s dressing room. Lachlan pauses at the entrance and snaps a few photos on his phone, taking a selfie of himself pointing at the band’s name on the door.

  “It’s a bit like walking through a dream,” Marcus muses, pulling his phone out and film
ing our entrance. He does a tour around the room, narrating as he goes along, making us all say hi to the camera.

  I smile as he stands in the centre of the room and posts the video to our Instagram story.

  “What’s so amusing?” he asks as he pockets his phone.

  “I just can’t believe this is our life now.”

  He retrieves his guitar case and opens it up, pulling out a few different picks and slipping them into the pocket of his jeans. “Believe it, babe. The only way from here is up .” I hope he’s right.

  I stash my bag in the corner of the room, keeping a hold of my violin case as I follow the guys out to the stage where Theo is waiting for us. He’s talking to a small man with brown curly hair, who holds a clipboard and points around the room while they confer.

  Marcus slips his arm around my shoulder again, sweeping his arm across the expanse of the room as he speaks. “Just imagine, tonight all of this will be filled with people.”

  “It’s wild,” I say, taking a deep breath as I hear our voices echo back to us.

  Releasing me, he stands in the middle of the stage where he belongs. “I know we’re just here to support, but it’s fucking mind blowing.” He touches his fingertips to his forehead and pops his hand open to emphasise his words.

  “Marcus,” Theo calls out, his voice curt and clipped.

  We both turn at the sound of his name. “Duty calls.” Marcus jogs straight over there but I can’t help noticing the flash of discomfort on Theo’s face as his eyes linger on me for a moment. I lift my hand to wave, a skitter of nerves dancing all the way up my body and resting at the base of my throat. Say something to me. Smile at least. But all he does is frown then shift focus to his brother. Fuck.

  I fold my arms over my chest and let out a quiet sigh before I head over to where Lachlan and Jack are setting up.

  “I wonder how many people will show up early enough to see us play,” Jack muses while he checks the connections to his keyboard.

  “It’d be cool if the stadium was full. But I reckon maybe half if we’re lucky?” Lachlan says with a bounce of his shoulder, blu-tacing a few picks to his microphone stand.

  I pull out my bow and run some rosin over it, plucking at my strings to check my tuning. But it’s hard to trust my ears when they’re straining to hear what’s being said elsewhere.

  “What d’you reckon, Nomes?” Jack says.

  “Huh?” Reckon about what?

  “We’re taking bets on how full this place will be.”

  “What’ll the winner get?” I grin, my eyes straying to where Marcus and Theo stand. Marcus has his hands on his hips and Theo’s arms are crossed. What’s going on?

  “How about the winner gets all their luggage and equipment carted around for the next week,” Lachlan suggests.

  “Lame!” Jack laughs.

  “I think we can do better than that,” I say. “Besides, I reckon if I pulled the ‘it’s too heavy’ girly face on you, you’d carry my stuff, anyway. Pick something better.”

  “Oh, I know,” Jack blurts, clapping his hands together and rubbing them greedily. “This is great. You’ll like this one.”

  “Well, tell us then,” I prompt, wondering what he’s come up with.

  “Winner gets the single room,” he says, nodding his head and grinning, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

  “No way!” I yell, laughing at his audacity. “How is that a win for me? I already have the single room.”

  “It’ll be a win because if you’re right then you won’t have to share with Lachlan. That man’s arse is lethal. Plus, he snores like an angry fucking T-Rex. I swear the walls vibrate while he’s sleeping.”

  “I do not snore,” Lachlan counters, and an argument breaks out between them, leaving me laughing while they bicker like children wanting the last lolly in the jar. I am not giving up my room.

  “That’s enough, ladies,” Theo interrupts, causing the quarrel to end instantaneously. “And no betting either. How about we focus on the performance? You won’t even be able to see the audience. The lights will be too bright, so it doesn’t fucking matter. Get your head in the game and get your shit ready.”

  We all mumble some sort of acceptance or apology and get back to work.

  Theo tightens the nut on his cymbal, his head down, a frown tightening his brow.

  “Is everything OK?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “It’s fine. Our set list is being reduced.”

  “What do you mean? I thought they approved everything before we got here?”

  “They did,” he says, finally glancing up at me as he bounces a shoulder. “And they changed their mind.”

  Now I’m frowning. “That really sucks. What songs are we cutting?”

  “Me, Myself and You. And, ah… Fragile.”

  My eyes go wide. “Fragile? That’s our biggest crowd pleaser.”

  “Stolle wants us to mix it up.”

  “But what’s it to him?”

  “It’s his tour.”

  “And you seem to be forgetting that this is one big job interview,” Marcus puts in.

  “What for?” The moment the words leave my mouth I feel dumb.

  “For you, dummy,” Lachlan says. “He’s trying to poach you.”

  “At the very least he’s trying to fuck her and get free music advice,” Jack mutters, moments before a drumstick hits him square in the back. “Ow. Fuck you, Theo.”

  “No,” Theo practically growls. “Fuck you. Don’t say that shit about her.”

  “It’s OK,” I say. “This is obviously an issue. So, I think I need to be really clear to you all. I won’t leave the band. I jumped on board with you guys and I’m not jumping off the moment something better or more exciting comes along. That’s not what I’m about. We’re family here, right?” I look between each of them. “And as for who I chose to fuck, Jack; that’s none of your goddamn business.” I give him a pointed glare and Lachlan laughs while Jack leaves his hands in surrender. Theo and Marcus don’t find it amusing.

  “Can we quit being little bitches here, please?” Theo scoops up a stack of papers and hands them out. “This is the new set list. Tape it to the fucking floor and take a picture of it on your phone. I want it memorised by tonight. We have just enough time to run through this once. Then it’s back to the hotel to rest up for tonight. Don’t fuck it up.”

  I’m the last person Theo hands the list to. He keeps a hold of the paper for a second too long. “Everything okay?” he asks in a low voice.

  I nod. “Everything is perfect.”

  He releases the paper and inhales. “No hard feelings?”

  “Not at all. I understand.”

  Licking his lips, he nods and glances around the stage. Ears are straining. “Good.”

  No hard feelings. Of course there are fucking hard feelings. But I’m big enough to put those feelings aside and put my energy into my music. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to kiss a guy and he’s knocked me back. And I’m pretty sure it won’t be my last.

  No hard feelings.

  “First song is Then You Were Gone,” he calls out as he settles himself at his kit, and suddenly we’re all very professional, the band we’ve trained to be.

  Despite the last-minute changes, our set goes off without a hitch as we make sure our transitions and queues are right. Time flies by, and before we know it, it’s time to get off the stage and get ready for tonight’s gig.

  Don’t fuck it up.

  No hard feelings.

  Fuck.

  Twenty-Six

  Marcus

  Have you ever heard your favourite song on the radio and sung along, pretending to be the one performing it on stage to a massive crowd of screaming fans? If your answer is yes, then I’m here to tell you that nothing your imagination can produce is even close to the real feeling you get when on stage to a crowd of thousands. Thousands. And they’re fucking loving us.

  Considering we’re the supporting act, I’m surprised at
the turnout, and the enthusiastic response. It helps that the band is playing perfectly together. We haven’t missed a single note, had one beat out of place. It’s been the greatest experience of my life, and it’s going to be over too soon. I want to stay on this stage forever.

  “Would you like to meet the band?” I say into the microphone, just before we move on to our last song. The crowd screams excitedly in response, and I glance down at the front row, finding Erica and Amy there with their phones trained on us. I have no doubt they hyped the fuck out of this tour for us. They should promote bands for a living. I smile and wave at them, then euphoria washes over me as the din rises. I even have to hold my hands up to get them to calm down. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Disconnecting my microphone from the stand, I walk around the stage, introducing us all one by one. The crowd shrieks for each member. But they fucking love Naomi.

  “She’s great, right?” I comment, standing next to her. She is looking absolutely amazing tonight in this tight black miniskirt, purple high heels and this sparkly singlet top that drapes loosely from her body. Her hair is piled up high on her head and she has one of those long sparkly earrings that kind of looks like a chandelier hanging out of her left ear, but in her right is a small diamond stud. When I asked her about it before, she told me it was so the left one didn’t get caught in her bow or get in the way of the violin while she played. Whatever her reason, the look works. She’s smoking hot.

  Her eyes shine with delight as the crowd screams their agreement. I can tell she’s on as much of a high from this as I am. We were born to be on stage. “Thank you for coming early to see us tonight,” she says, waving with her bow above her head. “And let’s not forget to cheer for our frontman, Marcus Bailey.” She gestures towards me and the crowd screams again. I fucking love this.