by Darci Balogh
"And you didn't tell me?" Bea's voice hit a pitch that might be considered a low shriek. Travis cringed. "I can't believe you went matchmaking behind my back!" Bea was more incensed at being left out of the plotting than at the principle of the thing.
"It wasn't matchmaking," Travis told Sofia, ignoring his wife's outburst. "I didn't see any harm in letting him bring you your sweater." His big, droopy eyes looked at her dolefully. "Are you offended?"
Sofia dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. "No, that's not it," she tried to explain. "It's just that now I've promised to go to this concert and I feel uncomfortable. Like I'm encouraging him when I don't think we're a good match. I don't want him to think we're on another date."
Travis nodded with understanding, cheerlessly accepting her unfortunate circumstances. Bea, on the other hand, pooh-poohed that idea with a scoff.
"You can go with us," she announced.
"You're going?"
"Of course we're going. We're big fans of his. Friend-fans," she beamed at Sofia. "This way you can go enjoy the concert and it won't be weird and awkward, but you'll still be showing up like you promised." Bea patted Sofia's hand and stood up from the table to start collecting dishes. As she did she hummed merrily to herself, having solved the problem in her own mind. Travis stood to help his wife, avoiding looking at Sofia and therefore removing himself from the conversation. "Don't worry," Bea told her as she carried plates into the kitchen. "Everything will turn out just fine."
Sofia was not confident Bea's plan was as foolproof as she thought it was.
Chapter Ten
People of all ages filled the small venue to capacity. The Robot Tellers were considered alternative rock, so Sofia was surprised to see people well over middle aged as well as some parents who had brought along their pre-teen children.
"Their music spans generations," Bea told her excitedly as she led Sofia and Travis deep into the front and center of the audience. With Bea's height challenges it was understandable that she wanted to be as close to the front as possible. Standing room only and it was packed. The anticipation in the audience was palpable. A few people were wearing T-shirts with The Robot Tellers emblazoned across the front. Sofia saw at least one T-shirt with Ian's paint splashed image, fist in the air holding a microphone and tongue sticking out aggressively like someone doing the Haka dance.
Dressed in a pair of skinny jeans that accentuated her curves, Sofia had opted out of high heels for the night. Thankfully. She had worn a pair of brown leather boots that went nicely with her peach toned button up tank top and off-white jean jacket. This was about as casual as she could dress, but it would do for a low-key rock concert.
The thing was, she didn't feel low key.
Sofia took a sip of the beer Travis brought her after he stood in a long line at the bar in the back. It did nothing to settle her restlessness. She wasn't the only one. The chatter around her ranged from good-natured drunken banter to gleeful fans getting pumped to see The Robot Tellers.
Was it really possible Ian was this well known? This well liked by so many?
The stage was set up with drums, microphones, electric guitars on stands, and various speakers piled on top of each other on each side. The house lights were on, but when a set of blue spotlights spilled illumination in great cone shapes from the ceiling onto the stage, shouts and screams of encouragement arose from the audience. The house lights dimmed.
Sofia thought about Ian's performance at Tawnyetta and Michael's wedding, which she'd witnessed and enjoyed immensely. If the crowd was any indication, he certainly had come a long way from that night. Of course, that had been well over a year ago and this was in an actual venue made for concerts. Not a fancy ballroom in a medieval castle. This was a real rock concert.
"It's going to be so fun," Bea said. She almost had to shout for Sofia to hear her over the whoops and hollers of the fans around them. The lights were shifting from blue to red to purple, faster and faster, whipping up the crowd.
"The Tellers!" A man just behind them shouted into the air. Several fans whistled their appreciation.
A low rumble came from the speakers. The crowd erupted into screams, lifting their arms into the air and pumping their hands up and down. Sofia looked at Travis with wide eyes. She had not been expecting this at all.
The house lights went off. The rumbling stopped. The pulsing lights on stage froze for an instant...then went totally black, leaving only a few pin points of green and red lights where cords were plugged into speakers. The audience screamed even louder, the sound ringing in Sofia's ears.
A single tone sounded from the stage and held in the air. White stripes of light fanned down from the ceiling and crossed the stage, revealing the shapes of the band moving to their positions. But only for an instant before they disappeared into darkness again. Sofia recognized Ian's body and a shiver tickled down her neck. The single tone shifted one half note up. A pounding drum started. The purple lights blinked on and off with each beat. The audience went completely bonkers.
Just when Sofia thought the anticipation had reached a breaking point, a white spot light shot on at the back of the stage, backlighting Ian and the band.
He raised his hand into the air and shouted into the microphone, "Louder!"
The crowd's reaction was instant and deafening. Before Sofia could wrap her mind around the fact that this man on stage was the same one who had showed up on her doorstep under the guise of returning her sweater, the song began and she, along with the rest of the crowd, was lost in the experience.
The first song was fast and loud. As was the second. Ian alternately grabbed the mic with both hands to sing into it then taking control of his guitar and joining the second guitarist and bass guitarist in playing the all consuming danceable music. The light show was amazing, flashing and strobing, dark and moody one moment, blindingly bright the next, it added to the intensity of each song. Swept away by the sound of it all, Sofia was completely impressed at their music, at Ian's skill as a singer, musician, and all around performer.
She was also thoroughly blown away by the way he looked. Wearing faded black jeans with a rip in one knee, black lace up boots, a tight black and white bowling shirt, along with his standard silver rings, beaded bracelets, and punked out red hair, on stage apparently was where his style really shone. It wasn't just Ian's look or the music that she was reacting to, however. It was his presence. His confident, smooth, sexy presence that was sending women around her into a frenzy and making her insides feel like electrified jelly.
The third song began. A slower rhythm. A rock ballad.
The lights at the back of the stage grew stronger, illuminating the band and the first section of the audience closest to the stage, of which Sofia, Bea and Travis were part. Ian looked up from adjusting the keys on his guitar and saw them. Recognition ignited his face and he smiled his impossibly engaging smile. He pointed his guitar pick at them.
Bea waved and yelled, "Ian!"
Sofia felt the eyes of everyone nearby turn to them. She froze, not wanting to shout his name, but wanting him to notice her more than anything she'd wanted in a long time.
He stepped up to the mic and pressed his lips against it, "Good to see you." He locked eyes with Sofia and a jolt of energy shot through her heart into her stomach when he said, "Glad you could make it." He turned around and spoke to the bass guitarist who gave Sofia a nod and lifted a finger in greeting. Ian leaned back into the mic and kind of chuckled. He shook his head at whatever he'd been laughing at then ran his hand through his spiked up hair. "Now I'm nervous," he confessed quietly.
The crowd screamed.
Sofia's heart melted just a little bit.
The other guitarist played a surprisingly delicate intro, the drummer started a light beat, and Ian sang the next song. It was a ballad, and it was beautiful.
Follow me, follow me,
I'm chasing the sun,
Finding the melody,
Finding the one.
You're f
lying high, babe.
Take me to the sky.
Tonight's the night, babe,
Tonight is goodbye.
When did you learn to hate me?
Who told you what to say?
I know nothing's forever,
Don't let it be this way...
When the concert was over, they were bustled backstage by a tall, lanky man with dark skin, kind brown eyes, a long unkempt beard, and a black T-shirt with the word 'STAFF' emblazoned on the back. Forced to walk single file while following him, Bea took the lead, followed by Sofia with Travis last. Bea talked incessantly the whole time, but Sofia couldn't hear what she was saying. The music was still running through her mind and her body, and every sight and sound around her was muffled in comparison.
Sofia's senses were awake, alive with the electrical performance Ian had just given and vibrating with her own private reaction. Logically she knew he was an entertainer, a lead singer, used to the love and adoration of a crowd and expected to put on a good show. But buried under all of this logic was a sensation Sofia didn't want to name. Though she knew he'd been putting on a concert for every person in this room, of which there were probably nearly a thousand, Sofia felt as if he had meant it all for her.
"Don't be ridiculous," she muttered under her breath. They had been on one date. One failed date, she might add. Failed because she had cut it short and cut him off, denied any desire to see him again. Another thought flashed through her mind. Had she made a mistake?
They were shown behind a heavy black curtain to a beat up door at the left of the stage. The door, too, was black. Though the paint job was at least a decade old and had been embellished by various stickers over the years. As they ducked through the door and entered backstage Sofia was taken back to high school when Luna convinced her it would be fun to help stage manage their production of Little Shop of Horrors. Angie had played Audrey and Thomas had played the bad guy, the abusive dentist. They had both been pretty good as Sofia recalled.
This backstage was a labyrinth of high ceilinged halls dotted with nondescript doors. All closed. Dimly lit and lined with rock band posters, the floors were plain cement and the entire place was begging for a coat of fresh paint, not to mention more light fixtures. Unlike Sofia's high school theater, this backstage felt better used. It also smelled like stale beer and full ashtrays.
They came upon a door with no special markings where their bearded guide stopped. "Here you are, then," he said, pushing the door open and holding it so they could enter.
Inside the room four people, three men and a woman, lounged in varying degrees of exhaustion on two outdated, but comfortable looking, couches. A portable card table with two open bags of potato chips and two six packs of Stella Artois, both with cans missing, sat alone on the far wall. All eyes turned towards them as they entered and Sofia immediately recognized the three men as the other members of The Robot Tellers.
The bass player, the one who had pinkie waved at her from the stage, nodded at them in greeting. He was a tall black man who wore a folded bandana like a sweatband around his head, making the rest of his naturally curly hair stick up in a high Afro.
"You're Ian's friends?" he asked.
"Yes," Bea answered for all of them. "Is he here?"
The bass player unfolded from the couch as he spoke, "Yeah, he went looking for you I think." He looked directly at Sofia and she felt the woman on the couch sizing her up. "I'm Hugh," the bass player stuck out his hand to shake Travis' and then her and Bea's. "Come in, he'll be back when he doesn't find you."
The two other men were the lead guitarist and drummer, Danny and Charlie, respectively. They both had bushy blonde hair, wiry frames, and looked like they were in need of a home cooked meal. Charlie was much bigger than Danny, who was a man of diminutive size, but their voices sounded alike and Sofia wondered if they were related in some way. The woman was introduced as Emery, just Emery. No musical title or backstage job, like 'manager' or 'van driver', or anything like that. She was late twenties, small with a platinum blonde pixie cut that she had done up with product so it stuck out in all directions. Tan, fit, with big, blue eyes and full lips coated thick with pale pink lipstick, Emery wore a tight pink crocheted tank top dress that barely covered her assets. Her purse was white patent leather with a strap made to look like a giant golden chain. The chain was positioned between her breasts and its pull made their size and shape, and the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra, even more noticeable.
Groupie. This was the first word that came to Sofia's mind when Hugh introduced them. Emery's smug smile did nothing to change that impression.
"And you are, who, exactly?" Emery asked. Sofia had not been long in London, but she thought she recognized a certain lower class edge to Emery's accent. Maybe that was being too harsh.
Sofia raised one eyebrow and started to speak, but the door opened, interrupting her before she had a chance.
"Hullo! There you are!" Ian said as he joined them.
Sofia was unprepared to see him up close and personal. A burst of emotion swelled up inside of her, threatening to come out in the form of a fit of giggles or, even worse, an embarrassing gush of happiness. Sofia squelched those possibilities by slamming her lips together and holding them tight, which may or may not have made her look bizarre. She had no choice. She could not allow an overreaction.
Ian, on the other hand, did not hold back his excitement on seeing her–or them, rather. His smile lit up his face and eyes. And she couldn't help but notice that his shirt was completely unbuttoned, showing glimpses of his very defined and tattooed chest and stomach. Add that to what must be a post-show glow after being onstage and he was, in this moment, one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen in her life.
"Oh, Ian, that was marvelous. Really, really, marvelous," Bea squealed and opened her arms for a congratulatory hug. Leave it to Bea to do the gushing.
"Thanks, Bea," Ian leaned down and gave her a warm hug, then shook Travis' hand. "Travis, good to see you." Travis mumbled something about a good show. Then Ian turned his golden cat eyes on her with a sensual appreciation that increased her heart rate. "Sofia, you look beautiful."
Her resolve to keep her mouth clamped shut and remain calm and collected began to unravel. Her mind raced for something to say. Something cool, intelligent, memorable.
"Thanks," she blurted out like she was in junior high and Ian was Mitchel Johnson, her childhood crush.
Amusement filled his eyes, like he found her charming, not like he was laughing at her discomfort. He glanced around the room and noticed Emery sitting like a sexy pink pillow on the couch. The amusement drained away and something closer to confusion replaced it.
"Oh, you're here," he said, the emphasis on you're. He shot a look at Hugh who was standing uncomfortably by the snack and beer table. He gave Ian a barely perceptible shrug of apology.
"Yes," Emery stood up and Sofia noticed her hot pink stilettos for the first time. Emery put all of her weight on one foot and stuck the opposite hip out, cocking her head at Ian. "I'm here."
Chapter Eleven
To say Emery was a groupie would be incorrect. To say she was Ian's girlfriend would also be incorrect. To say she was something undefined that floated in between those two labels would be spot on.
In all truth, Sofia didn't want to say any of those things. She didn't want to think about Emery, because when she did she felt a stinging sensation of jealousy slither up her spine. Not that she had any claims on Ian. And even if she did, jealousy would only poison whatever relationship they did have. But she wasn't in a relationship with Ian. A fact she had to repeatedly remind herself during the rest of the evening.
In actions and words, Ian came across as very interested in Sofia romantically. He also came across as charming, witty, and flirtatious with her...and with Emery...and even with Bea. Not that she honestly believed he was hitting on Bea, nothing he did went that far. She just noticed that he was a fun loving guy in general, with a lot of people.
And Sofia was just one of them. She wasn't exactly sure how she felt about that.
Sofia didn't have much time to think about any of it before she was pulled along to an after-party at The Sneezing Pigeon, ironically. There she fought a silent battle with her emotions. On one hand, she couldn't deny that she was attracted to Ian. Intensely. Watching him on stage she had been so impressed with his talent and his energy. Maybe even interested enough to reconsider going on a second date. On the other hand, she couldn't help but notice his lifestyle wasn't what she considered stable. It wasn't relatable to her experience. Since they'd gotten to the pub, he spent much of his time with her, he also spent time with fans and other musicians. It seemed that there were a lot of people clamoring for his attention. He even spent a few minutes with Emery in a rather intense conversation at a corner table.
"They're not going out, if that's what you're thinking," Bea informed her with a sideways comment as they watched Emery slide her hand up Ian's arm possessively.
Sofia pushed the toe of her foot along a line on the hardwood floor, staring at it as she did, trying to look nonchalant. "Who?"
Bea gave her a little eye roll. "Ian, silly. That's what you're thinking isn't it? That Emery is his girlfriend?"
Sofia acted casually surprised and pretended to look for Emery and Ian, as if she didn't know where they were in the crowd. "I wasn't thinking anything," she lied.
Bea let out a little sigh of frustration, "Right. Well, just so you know, they were an item until almost two years ago. But Ian told me himself that they broke up and he is not seeing anyone right now."
If that was supposed to make her feel better, it didn't. Knowing that Emery had a history with him gave her a sinking feeling. Even though Ian may have expressed his indifference to Bea, it was obvious to Sofia that Emery was anything but a forgotten ex-girlfriend.
Sofia took a sip of her whiskey sour. After all the ups and downs of the evening she had felt like having a strong drink. The burning liquor wasn't helping her mood much. In fact, it was making her feel a little sick. Or maybe it was the whole situation that was making her ill. Either way, she really just wanted to go home. She had kept her word and come to the concert. There was nothing more for her here. She would be better off getting some rest so she could tackle her work projects on Monday with all of her energy.