He nodded.
“You should be in our band, Cocked and Loaded.” It was poor taste to proposition another musician…while he played a gig with his band. But his band members made it more than obvious that Nolan wouldn’t last in their group beyond tonight anyway, so I didn’t feel too guilty. “You interested?”
He smiled as he shifted his gaze from Brandon and Kendall and back to me.
“You do speak, don’t you?” I asked. “I mean, it’s not mandatory, but you might have to sing backup vocals.”
“I prefer action,” he said in a deep, masculine voice. “Not words.”
The reverberation in his tone and his penetrating gaze made my muscles go limp. I drew backwards as though he’d spoken private, affectionate words into my ears, instead of just one confirmatory statement. “We’ll talk after the show.”
He nodded, turned around, and gestured for his band mates to start their next song as he headed for the stage to join them.
I didn’t even need to glance at Kendall or Brandon to know that Nolan’s guitar-work had hypnotized them as well.
“Whoa!” Kendall said, staring at me. She slammed her empty glass onto the table. “Did you feel that chemistry?” A grin made her eyebrows rise. “I mean…holy—”
“Yeah,” I said, cutting off an obscene word, “I got it.”
She wiped a hand across her forehead as though she’d just finished a long-distance run. “That was so hot!”
That comment made me think of the heat that built up in my body. Thankfully, it began to subside. But I kept my hands deep in my pockets.
“Nice pick up,” Kendall said and hit Brandon’s shoulder. “Who’d have thought you’ve got it bad for another guy.”
He turned his gaze upon mine. “You two seem to have something, I don’t know, pretty intense.”
I almost smiled at the insinuation. “He knew about our band. Let’s not make it into something it’s not.”
Brandon straightened his chair, clacking the legs against the ground with such ferocity that those sitting at the surrounding tables noticed. “Bullshit. He walked right over to you. Like he couldn’t help it. Like he was powerless to walk away.” He shook his head. “You can’t deny that.” He turned his attention to Kendall. “Am I right?”
She nodded at me with a half-smile. “You know the truth. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
I released a smile and glanced down, acting coy, mostly because I wasn’t used to men flirting with me. Over the past four years, I’d spent so much time and energy with my studies and our band that it left little time for anything else. To have caught the attention of such a gorgeous man made my heart burst with joy. For the briefest moment, he made me forget all of the craziness that happened earlier today. Based on that, I knew one thing: that kind of attraction could either rock my world…or destroy it.
*
After the band ended their set, I stood on the sidewalk outside the bar with Kendall and Brandon, along with about two dozen women in their twenties who chatted about the guitarist in two large clusters, hoping to get a chance to chat with him. (The other band members had left a few minutes ago without any fanfare). For the past twenty minutes, they chatted about his sexiness: muscles and musicianship, piercing blue eyes that harbored unexplored depths, and a grin that promised wicked sins.
Kendall and Brandon talked about achieving our dreams: hitting the mainstream, selling millions of records, and touring the world. And this time, rather than talking about what they hoped to accomplish, they talked as if it was a certainty. Nolan would bring charisma to our shows that had been altogether absent. He would also enhance our stage performances.
While I always believed that our band would make it big, I, too, felt like we were onto something special. Nolan had all the tools to take our band to the next level: worldwide renown. And it would all start when he walked through that door.
I listened to the women outside the bar who adjusted their blouses and skirts in hopes of eliciting the right amount of interest from Nolan. I got the impression that he’d need only to point at one of them, without saying a word, before taking her home.
That sexual potency would draw tons of women to our music. And where women went, men followed! Which meant ticket sales. But on a personal level, I didn’t like it. I had no problem with women dressing a certain way to catch a man’s eye, but I didn’t respect women who threw themselves at men to get them into bed. I felt heat rushing through me again, which frightened me. I had to learn how to control the pressure.
“Okay,” Kendall said, disrupting her conversation with Brandon to address me: “So you’re a Firestarter.” She referred to the movie starring Drew Barrymore, a young girl who had pyrokinetic abilities. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“Neither did I.” Pulling my hands from my pockets, I examined my fingers, looking for an indication as to why and how fire expelled from them. But since heat built in my hand, I tilted my fingers toward the sidewalk in case they decided to spew fire again.
Brandon shook his head in disbelief. “You two are nuts. That’s Nolan’s thing. He sets up his pants to light up on command. Remember the bassist from Motley Crue? He did the same thing. But no one’s done it in thirty years, so it’s new again. Sure, it’s awesome, but it’s not magic.”
“Oh, yeah?” asked Kendall. She whirled around toward me. “Light Brandon on fire.”
I pretended to find Brandon’s skepticism offensive. I extended my right hand. “Shake my hand.”
He shrugged, laughed, and took my hand. “Jesus,” he shouted, removing his hand and stepping back. “You’re hand feels like you stuck it in an inferno.” He shook his hand and covered it with his other palm.
“Believe her now?” Kendall asked with a grin.
Brandon grimaced. “I don’t know. I sort of believed what you said earlier about witches and stuff, but you’re like The Human Torch,” he said, namechecking the character in Marvel’s comic book and film franchise, The Fantastic Four, who could ignite into fire and fly.
“I hope not,” I said. “Turning into a raging ball of fire would be hell on my wardrobe.”
The entrance door barged open, and Nolan stepped out, his black leather guitar case strap delving into the gulley between his muscular pecs. “Hey,” he said, greeting the women with a slight grin.
The women squealed and crowded around him, practically bouncing up and down like teenyboppers at a boy band concert. “The name is Nolan,” he said, slinking one arm around the waist of a size-four blond with enormous breasts. “You like the show?”
As one, the women let out a bevy of squeals.
“Jesus,” Brandon said with envy. “He snaps his fingers and chicks line up.”
Kendall chuckled. “Only he didn’t snap his fingers.”
I felt more than a bit jealous at the comment. “Better for the band though, right?”
“You know it,” said Kendall. “Brandon, I could introduce you. Just make sure you don’t start crying or pass out like a fan at a Michael Jackson concert.”
As the bandleader, I stepped into the throng, excusing myself until I stood beside Nolan. “Let’s talk.”
He released the blond. “Sorry, girls. I’ve got business to attend to.”
The joy he took from dashing their hopes made me second-guess whether or not we should invite him into our band. He already had a huge ego. If we became successful, I’d be a fool to think that he’d grow more humble. His ego could destroy our foundation…and friendship. I didn’t want to jeopardize that. But at the same time, I knew we couldn’t reach the big time without someone like Nolan. I turned back to Kendall and Brandon.
“Go on,” Brandon said. “Make it official.”
Kendall nodded with a quick smile.
Nolan passed through the women and followed me toward Brandon and Kendall. “Your sound and stage presence would work well in our band.”
“You guys have a hot sound,” Nolan said. “Like nothing on the radio.”
<
br /> I nodded in agreement. I could name only a handful of popular female-fronted American rock bands. None of them had become successful on Top 40 radio.
Nolan said, “But just because your sound isn’t on the radio…doesn’t mean it won’t be.”
“Dude,” Brandon said, walking over and offering a hand. “That’s what we thought.”
Nolan took it. “You sure know your way around a drum kit.” He nodded at Kendall. “Your rhythm section is tight, and you three can rock a pen and a pad.”
Kendall beamed. “Serena writes most of the lyrics.”
An eyebrow quirked as Nolan turned toward me. “Nice. And you’ve got a smooth delivery…like bourbon over ice. Not like all the chicks who scream their lyrics, trying to prove they belong in a metal band.”
“And I think you’d make a good fit. No audition necessary. What do you say?”
Brandon cleared his throat, a smile flashing across his face.
I hadn’t even considered my comment as sexual in nature, but because Brandon had sex on the brain 24/7, I wasn’t surprised by his immaturity. “So you up for it?” I asked, and even before Brandon started laughing, I tried not to cringe at yet another slip of the tongue.
For his part, Nolan didn’t respond to Brandon’s childishness. “Definitely. I didn’t even have to cut myself loose from the band a few minutes ago. It was a mutual split.”
“Good,” I said. “We’re open to a certain amount of spontaneity. We’re okay with the occasional guitar solo or stretching out a song on stage if we’re feeling it and that sort of thing. But this is a four-piece band. If you want to jerk off on stage all night with your guitar, I’m going to fire you.”
He met my gaze with earnestness. “Glad to hear I get some leeway.”
Given Nolan’s talent and confidence, I had to be explicit with him. If I had any hope of keeping him from acting like the male equivalent of a diva, I needed to keep his ego in check. Even though the trio around me had an equal vote in our decisions, as the bandleader, I retained two votes.
“Good,” I said. “Otherwise, writing and music credits are fairly distributed based upon contribution.”
“That’s fair.”
As the women realized they wouldn’t be getting Nolan’s attention and went home, Brandon said, “Guns N’ Roses or Nirvana: which one will be more popular in twenty years?”
“Nirvana changed the musical landscape,” Nolan said. “But the Guns N’ Roses will always be played on radio more often because a wider audience liked them.” He paused. “But I’m not gonna answer that question. Instead, I’m gonna ask a question: what happened to the rock star? Mick Jagger. Bono. Axl Rose. Dave Grohl. Every single rock star on the planet is from the twentieth century. Who’re the rock stars out there? Katy Perry? Pink? Eminem? Kanye West? They’re not rock stars; they’re pop singers and rappers. How about Taylor Swift? Unlike the others, she actually plays an instrument. She’s the closest thing we’ve got to a rock star. What the hell happened to rock ‘n’ roll?
“No one cares anymore,” he continued. “Everyone wants money and fame. They let rock n’ roll die. Cobain was a rock star…because he didn’t want to be a rock star. No one, other than his old bandmate from the Foo Fighters, has followed him in over two decades.” He looked at me. “We can change that…as a band.” He looked us over. “If you aren’t into that, let me know, so I can move on.”
Brandon cracked a grin and glanced at Kendall, who looked at me.
I couldn’t’ help but let loose with an ebullient smile. “Bring it on!”
We spent the next hour or so talking about our goals and how we’d achieve them. Overall, Nolan seemed like he’d fit in the band without disassociating himself. Before long, Kendall and Brandon had left, leaving me with Nolan. Without any intention, I found myself a few blocks away from The Antique Boutique.
“I’ve got one concern,” said Nolan.
“What’s that?”
“Earlier tonight, I felt a pretty strong connection between us.”
It’s still there. I just nodded, feeling my chest grow tight at the subject and his straightforward manner. Nolan Hart did not like to play games. I appreciated that because, with my lack of dating, I didn’t know how to play them.
“Good. If we’re band mates,” Nolan said, “that’s all we are.”
It felt like he’d plunged a dagger into my heart. “Oh,” I said, shocked how the word came out so casually. “Of course.” I recalled how all the women waited for him outside the bar. “That makes sense.”
“Good.” At the end of the sidewalk, just before reaching the curb, he came to a stop.
Dazed and disappointed by this development, I passed the curb, but before I took another step into the street, I felt a strong arm corral me around the waist and turn me back onto the sidewalk a second before a Dodge Ram veered into the exact spot I’d stood a moment earlier.
“Whoa!” Nolan said, holding me in his warm embrace, only an inch from his heaving chest.
As I gasped for air, knowing that he’d saved my life, the piece of my heart that hoped to meet a strong, protective man like Nolan felt like it hadn’t evaded that truck, that it had gotten pulverized.
“Are you okay?” He looked me over with great concern.
No. Part of me just died. I nodded, finding it impossible to look away from those magnetic eyes.
He released a huge sigh of relief.
My heart, which I had expected to eulogize, reached out for him. Or maybe my soul was trying to leave my body and ascend to heaven.
Nolan removed his hands from my shoulders. He cracked a partial grin. “Thank God that didn’t happen.”
“Yeah,” I conceded, trying to remain emotionless. “Thank God.”
When the passerby sign lit up, Nolan started into the walkway. But not seeing me at his side, he turned back and extended a hand. “Oh, so now you want to play it safe?”
That kind smile made my legs rubbery and, rather than slip to the ground, I used that moment to walk into the crosswalk and take his hand.
His palm twitched before he tentatively grasped onto my hand again. “Damn, you’re hot!” A second later, he slowed his stride and gave me a smile tinged with irony. “Yeah, there’s no way to put a spin on that comment.”
I chuckled as we made it to the other side of the street…and came upon The Antique Boutique. “This is me,” I said, motioning to the darkened shop.
“Don’t things have to be seventy-five years old to be considered an antique? Either you keep up one hell of a beauty regimen, or I need glasses.”
“I’ll settle for the first option.” As Nolan peered through the shop window, I said, “Tell me about the fire.”
“That was messed up. I started doing that a couple weeks ago to get the band’s name out there, but today was different.” His eyebrows drew close. “I just don’t remember lighting the flame, and the heat felt more intense than usual.”
“You didn’t seem too surprised at the time.”
“My concentration was elsewhere,” he said, holding my stare.
“Right…you walked into the crowd to do a solo. Very ballsy, by the way. I’m just glad the fire didn’t accidentally catch on anyone’s clothes.”
“Exactly. I never would have done it in a crowd of people. Someone would call the cops or the fire department. I mean, I could have killed someone!” Ashamed, he shook his head. “What was I thinking?”
His guilt made me feel terrible. But I couldn’t very well say, “Don’t take it so hard. It was my fault. I shot a couple fireballs at you.” He’d think I belonged in a nuthouse. I had a difficult time looking at him. “No one got hurt. You weren’t arrested. And you made your way into our band. Don’t think about what could’ve been. Think about what is.”
He contemplated my advice. “You got some college under your belt, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t take an education to be an optimist. But yeah, I got my Bachelors degree today.”
�
��Congrats,” he said with a sincere smile. He stared at me for a while. “Well, I’ll see you around.” He turned and headed in the direction we’d come.
“Wait! How do we get in touch for rehearsals and writing and stuff?”
He stopped, turned around, and cocked his head toward the shop. “I know where you hang out.” He half-pivoted before turning back. “And hey…I think we could be something special.”
The way he looked in my eyes reeled me in. The confidence and determination in his voice made my heart clench, proving that it hadn’t died after all. Then I put his words in context of the band…and felt sadness descend as he walked away from me.
CHAPTER NINE
Just as I planned to head the other way, the light in the shop snapped on and set me on edge.
Darius stood on the other side of the window and signaled me to enter the shop. He opened the door. “Good evening, Serena.”
“What are you doing here?
“Looking for you.”
“How did you get inside the shop?”
“I have my ways. Let’s move on to more pressing matters? We must find a way to stop Zephora from taking over Lorraine’s body.”
“How do we do that?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m just stymied by your brilliance,” I said. “Einstein must’ve been jealous. Can’t you compel her to just leave Grams’s body?”
“She’s too powerful for that. Many years ago, I swore an oath to protect Zephora. That oath never fades, no matter the years, no matter the spiritual plane.”
“Even if she conjured up a few hydrogen bombs?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“So, I’ve got an impotent vampire to protect me. Awesome!”
“I’m not impotent.”
“Stomping your foot into the ground like a bratty toddler doesn’t help your case.”
“Stomping?” He looked at the floor, puzzled. “There was no stomping. None at all.”
“Look out, Zephora, a senior citizen vampire is hot on your tail.”
“Senior citizen? That’s absurd!”
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