Hard Rock Deceit: A Rock Star Romance

by Athena Wright

  "And what is your thing?" he asked curiously.

  "Sneaking into abandoned buildings to take photos. Roaming the city streets for interesting scenes to shoot. Sitting in front of my computer for hours editing and cleaning up the images. Not… this." I gestured with my arm, indicating the frenetic energy permeating the concert hall.

  "Sneaking into buildings? I didn't take you for a law-breaking delinquent."

  "Sometimes you have to bend the rules for the sake of art."

  "It's always the quiet ones."

  "I don't suppose you've ever broken the rules for your art." I pushed my glasses back up my nose. August didn't seem the type.

  An odd look crossed his face, almost alarmed. It passed quickly.

  "Does bribing and threatening music execs to get my own way count?" he asked.

  I examined him closely. No sign of that previous expression.

  "I didn't think August Summers would have to stoop to bribery," was all I said. "I heard the music execs bend over backwards for you."

  "Most do."

  "And the ones that don't?"

  "They learn to fall in line soon enough."

  "Have you ever been told no by anyone?"

  It was worrying that he had to pause thoughtfully for a moment, as if searching his memory for any such instance.

  "I asked Damon and Ian to stop switching places," he said eventually. "They were always pretending to be each other. They'd agree and then immediately go back to doing it anyway." He shook his head with a long-suffering yet indulgent expression, the way a parent looked when their beloved child was acting naughty.

  A booming voice sounded from the speakers, announcing the first act. The crowd roared in approval. A group rushed onto the stage in a flurry of guitars, leather pants, and eyeliner.

  "I really don't fit in at all," I observed, looking down at my sneakers and leggings.

  "How about I introduce you to some people?" August suggested. "Not everyone here is a rock star."

  He lead me to a roped off section close the pit. A girl with slightly messy brown hair stood next to the curtains. She wore a knee length, green cotton dress with tights. She wouldn't have looked out of place in any of my photography classes.

  As we approached the girl, her eyes flicked between me and August. Her face lit up.

  "Hello," she said with a cheery smile. "Are you a friend of August's?"

  With the way she stressed the word friend, it was clear she was hoping for a different answer. My face flushed hot, thinking about that moment on the bus.

  "This is Cassie, our tour photographer," August introduced. "Cassie, this is Hope, Ian's girlfriend."

  Hope was the person he wanted to bring on tour. The one his twin was more than overjoyed to leave behind.

  "Do you mind if I leave Cassie with you while I go wrangle the guys?" August asked. "She's new to this."

  "Of course. I'll take care of her." Hope linked arms with me and gave me a squeeze. I was taken aback at her friendliness. It wasn't unwelcome, just surprising. I didn't know many people this touchy-feely.

  "Poor August," she said. "It's always up to him to get the guys into line. It's like herding cats." Hope turned to me. Her earnest brown eyes shone as the spotlights from stage hit them. "Have you ever been to a Darkest Days concert before?"

  "I've never been to a rock concert before." I braced myself for her reaction, wondering whether it would be disbelief or judgement.

  She only nodded her head. "You're going to have fun. I've seen them play live too many times to count."

  "Do you go to all of Ian's concerts?"

  "All the ones I can. And of course, I went to a bunch before we started dating, too." She gave me an embarrassed smile. "I was sort of a big fan before we met."

  A rock star fell in love with one of his fans. That was every teenaged girl's dream come true. I wanted to hear more about their story, but the music started up, blasting our eardrums. I winced, covering my ears with my palms.

  "Sorry," Hope shouted over the music. "Should have warned you."

  We turned to the stage to watch the concert. I couldn't remember the name of the band that had been announced, and I didn't recognize anyone on the stage. I was intrigued that the singer was a girl, decked all out in a rocker chic leather kilt and combat boots.

  I should have enjoyed the concert the way Hope seemed to be doing, taking in the music and soaking in the energy of the crowd with a happy grin. Instead, I couldn't help but think in terms of my work. Identifying the best angles, contemplating how I'd frame particular shots. I took out my camera and snapped a few pictures here and there.

  I didn't have much experience with event photography. It made no sense why August had hired me. Was it really just because he'd seen something in my photos? Something full of passion?

  My face flushed, and not because of the heat of the concert hall. Every time I recalled that word falling from that man's lips, my body reacted in unfamiliar ways.

  I was glad for the darkness of the concert hall, so no one could could see my bright red face.

  As the opening band left the stage, Hope squealed and ran off in a flurry. Ian had appeared, carrying his guitar in hand. He caught his girlfriend with his one free arm as she threw herself at him. She shouted something in his ear. He squeezed her in return. Hope ran her hands through his hair as he pulled her in for a kiss. I averted my eyes at the public display of affection.

  I caught sight of August. Black leather pants looked molded to his thighs, and a sleeveless mesh shirt showed off toned arms and torso. I couldn't stop my eyes from drinking in every exquisitely defined muscle.

  August headed toward the stage, twirling drumsticks between his fingers in complicated patterns. The rest of the band members followed behind him. I recognized the lead singer and bassist. With fiery red hair, the bassist was laughing at something one of the twins was telling him, clapping him on the back. The lead singer wore a look of intense concentration, his dark eyes glinting in the spotlights.

  The announcer shouted an introduction, telling the fans that it was time for Darkest Days to appear on stage. The entire concert hall shook with the energy of cheers and chanting and the stomping of feet. The twins and bassist rushed on stage, thrusting their guitars in the air and calling out to the crowd. The lead singer and August took their time to reach their respective places at the front and back of the stage.

  Hope returned to my side, her cheeks flushed and mouth red.

  "Sorry I abandoned you," she said. "I just see Ian in that eyeliner and—"

  She made a sound in the back of her throat, like a wild animal about to leap onto its prey.

  "I get it," I said. "It's that rock star appeal."

  As I was learning all too well.

  The sound of two guitars shredding emitted from the speakers, soon followed by heavy drum beats. Hope's attention turned to the stage as the concert began.

  I followed her lead, watching the band perform their first song. It was one of their more well known ones. I'd heard it on the radio often enough I'd almost become sick of it. Listening to it played live was a different experience.

  The lead singer's sensual voice seduced the audience with his heartfelt words. The sound of the bass guitar thrummed in my chest, pulse quickening along with the beat. The twins wailed on their guitars, playing wildly, fingers flying over the strings.

  But it was August who really captured my attention. His arms were a blur as they pounded away. His hair whipped every which way, sweat-dampened strands sticking to his cheeks and neck. His eyes were narrowed, hot and fierce. Despite the ice blue color, there was no chillness in his expression. August's gaze burned with an inner fire that made my whole body heat up.

  I fought to drag my attention away from him. I was supposed to be getting ideas for my work. But the shifting of his toned arm muscles under skin, the way his shirt clung to his chest and abs, the way beads of sweat trickled down the side of his flushed face, made it impossible to think about
anything else.

  August was an artist himself. We didn't share the same medium, but art was art. He had a different perspective, more experience. Maybe I could learn from him. Ask him to be a mentor of sorts.

  My face burned as I contemplated what exactly August could teach me.

  About art.

  About passion.

  August had seen something in my work. Something no one else ever saw.

  What had I been feeling when I took that photo?

  Chapter Four

  "They're fantastic, aren't they?" Hope shouted over the music.

  I could only nod.

  Halfway through the set, the members of Darkest Days put down their instruments. A black piano was rolled out. The lead singer sat down on the bench in front of it. The rest of the band members filed off stage. A beautiful melody replaced the thrashing and screeching of guitars.

  As soon as the other members of the band were hidden by the curtain, a throng of assistants gathered around them, shoving towels and bottles of water into their hands.

  The twins and bassist grinned at each other as their chests heaved with labored breaths. I looked around for August. He'd left the stage with the others, but he wasn't with them.

  When the piano song came to a soft close, twins hurried back on stage.

  "This is my favorite part," Hope said. "Ian and Damon do this cool dueling guitar solo thing. It's really fun to watch them play around on stage without the other guys there." Hope's cheery expression turned somber. "I'm really going to miss him," she said wistfully. "This is the first tour they've been on since we started dating. We haven't been apart for more than a few days up until now." She smiled weakly. "They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Still, I can't help but worry."

  I wondered if she meant worried about groupies, and the temptation they invited.

  "Ian seems like a really great guy," I reassured her. "He said he wanted to bring you on tour."

  "I wish I could, but I have work. At least he's got Damon to look out for him."

  The twins were still on stage when I caught sight of August again. He was talking with a roadie. The man handed over something to August, who took it and fisted it tight in his hand. Lines peppered August's brow. He nodded once. I wondered if something had gone wrong. Darkest Days' performance had seemed flawless to me.

  August made his way back, a frown on his face and looking lost in thought. By the time he'd met up with the others, that twist of his lips and furrow of his brow had smoothed.

  The three of them went back on stage and the concert continued. This time, when I studied the band members, I made sure to look for any signs of worry or tension.

  The lead singer's expression didn't change much, always looking out at the audience as if something, or someone, had captured his full attention and he was singing only to them.

  From their carefree grins and frenzied playing, the bassist and the twins were having the time of their lives.

  Whatever had upset August tonight didn't seem to have affected them.

  "Did something happen?" I shouted at Hope over the music.

  "What do you mean?" she shouted back, not taking her eyes off the stage.

  "August looked upset. Or worried. Or… something."

  "I think some of the lighting was off. Don't worry about it. August's always been a little uptight. He hates it when things aren't perfect."

  I continued watching the concert. By the time it ended, I was at once both invigorated and exhausted from watching the frantic energy of the band on stage. I couldn't image how they must have felt.

  They finished their last encore song and left with the crowd still cheering and shouting. It seemed their fans couldn't get enough of Darkest Days.

  And I was beginning to understand why. There was something thrilling about seeing this band on stage. Their talent was undeniable, each member a master of his own instrument, but the way they performed, the way they pulled the audience in, was impressive in itself. Even I wasn't immune. The two and a half hour concert had flown by.

  Hope rushed into Ian's arms again the moment he was off stage and out of sight of the audience. He pressed his face into her hair as she clung to him. August had said the band had to get on the bus as soon as the concert was over. Instead of feeling uncomfortable at the PDA, I only felt sad for them.

  "Did you enjoy the concert?"

  August appeared at my side. His shirt clung to his chest with sweat, well-defined abs peeking through the black mesh. My heartbeat quickened. I lifted my eyes to his face before I could be caught staring. From his heavy breathing and flushed face, I could tell he was still pumped up from the performance.

  "You guys put on a great show," I said.

  He nodded absently, taking the compliment without demurring. August's eyes slid to the stage. Those ice blue eyes were slightly glazed over, as if his mind was elsewhere, maybe still back on the stage. Even though the crew had begun packing up, the crowd still shouted for more.

  "Are you going back out there?" I asked.

  "No. Although we love to do extra encores, this concert's over. We've got to get on the road soon. I need to go gather the guys and get a change of clothes."

  August lifted the hem of his shirt, peeling off the sweat-sticky material. My insides tumbled over on themselves.

  He cursed softly and winced with his arms halfway above his head.

  "You okay?" I asked.

  The drummer paused, glancing my way, then turned his gaze to the floor.

  "It's nothing. I'm fine."

  "Did you pull a muscle or something?" I guessed.

  He met my eyes.

  "Yeah."

  "You should take it easy out there."

  "I'll do whatever it takes to put on my best performance."

  He struggled with the shirt, favoring one shoulder. I felt bad watching him.

  "Can I help?" I asked.

  He gave up and nodded.

  With him grimacing and grunting, we managed to lift the shirt over his head.

  August's bare chest gleamed with sweat. The exertion of playing had him taking rough breaths. The peaks and valley of his firm abs rippled under the skin.

  My mouth went dry. I averted my gaze quickly.

  "Do me a favor?" he asked. "Don't tell the others. I don't want them to worry."

  I nodded dumbly.

  With a gentle hand on my arm, August squeezed his unspoken thanks.

  How could I possibly last months on a bus with this man, if this was the way I reacted near him? I'd never been that kind of person, never been so swept up in these kind of feelings before. I hadn't even known it was possible for me to feel this way. I didn't know how to handle it, aside from ignoring it.

  But with the warm, grateful look August flashed at me, I had a feeling I wasn't going to be able to ignore these feelings for long.

  Chapter Five

  August sent me on the bus ahead of the rest. The other band members were saying goodbye to their friends and family. I didn't want to snoop, but I was curious.

  I peeked out the window to see Ian and Hope still clinging to each other. The lead singer Noah Hart had his arm around two women. One of the girls had a strong resemblance to the lead singer. The same dark hair and dark eyes, both tall with strong cheekbones. I reasoned it had to be his sister.

  The bassist came up behind the raven-haired girl and snatched her away, twirling her around with a grin as she shrieked. He placed her on her feet and planted a kiss on her lips. Noah threw a disgruntled look their way. I'd heard that the notorious playboy Cameron Thorne had finally settled down. It seemed the rumors about the bassist were true. And with his bandmate's sister, no less.

  Not wanting to intrude further on their personal lives, I sat back down in my chair. I went over a few of the shots I'd taken of the concert. I was chagrinned to find most of them focused on August. The blur of his hair as his whole body rocked to the music. The fluid way his arms beat at the drums. The look on utter concentration
on his face, eyes blazing.

  I paused to examine a few of the photos more closely. Those lines between his brows had returned for the briefest of moments, that same frown as when he'd spoken to the roadie. I hadn't noticed while he was playing, but my camera had caught it. His face was lined with something almost like frustration, or discomfort. His shoulders were tense.

  That might have been the moment he strained his shoulder muscle. And yet he'd continued playing without missing a beat. That was dedication. That was passion for his art.

  My eyes wandered out the window again to where the band members were saying goodbye to their girlfriends.

  I reminded myself I wasn't there to pry. I was there to document. To capture Darkest Days in their element, to show the world their energy, their own passion. I still doubted whether or not I could do what August wanted, but if he believed in me, I was willing to give it a try.

  August climbed back on the bus first, not having anyone to say goodbye to. He nodded at the camera in my hands.

  "You get some good shots?" he asked.

  "I think so. Is your shoulder okay?"

  "I'm fine. It was a momentary spasm."

  He sat next to me on the love seat. Even though we were separated by the gap in the sofa cushions, I became painfully aware of his body heat, of his still-warm skin flushed from the concert.

  His scent filled the air, earthy, like fallen leaves in a forest, only slightly sweeter. I took in a shaky breath. My fingers clenched around my camera, squeezing unconsciously.

  "Can I see?" he asked, seemingly unaware of the effect he was having on me.

  I handed him the camera wordlessly. He clicked through the images, viewing them through the digital screen. He nodded and hummed to himself.

  "These are good," he said.

  Relief blossomed in my chest. Without realizing it, I'd been worried what he would think about my work. Worried that he'd have second thoughts and decide he'd made a mistake in hiring me.

  "Not great," he continued. "But good." His eyes were less penetrating than usual. Almost distant, fuzzy. Although he was speaking to me, it looked like his thoughts were miles away. Something was off about him today.