by Clara Bayard
Rocked in the Light
By Clara Bayard
Rocked, #9
Copyright © 2014 by Clara Bayard
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ABOUT THIS BOOK
When the deep darkness recedes...
After a series of bumps along the way, having to overcome external struggles and self-doubt, talented, curvy beauty Julia is finally living the life she always wanted. On the road and singing in front of thousands every night, she’s enjoying life in the spotlight.
And all your dreams come true...
But when the man who has brought her pleasure and pain, Rick, Dream Defiled’s moody drummer, bares his soul and reveals that his band is struggling to survive, everything changes. Julia’s feelings for Rick and the surprising comfort of being surrounded by close friends leave her vulnerable in a way she has no idea how to cope with and she has to deal with the reality that nothing is as under her control as she thought.
As the massive tour begins to wind its way around the country, Julia, Rick, and everyone around them may find that a meteoric rise to success can end any day. What really matters is who will be there to help you pick up the pieces.
...Nothing looks the same in the light.
ONE
Dun-da-dum, dun-da-dum, dun-da-dum, dun-dun-dun-dun, dun-da-dum…
With a spotlight blinding me I strutted downstage in time with the drumbeat, my heels thudding against the stage, my hips swinging confidently. The roar of the crowd sounded distant and tinny, like the thousands of people weren’t really there. Like giant speakers filled the arena instead.
Dun-da-dum, dun-da-dum, dun-da-dum, dun-dun-dun-dun, dun-da-dum…
In a strange way, it comforted me to think that could be true. That this wasn’t the culmination of months of work. Well, a lifetime of work, really.
Dun-dun, dun-da-dum, dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-da-dum…
I could feel my legs shaking as I reached my mark. I raised my arm just as a series of lights running across the stage coalesced around me, bathing me in a bright halo of pink and orange. My lips parted, I took in a measured breath and began to sing.
Suddenly, as if the sound of my voice had broken a spell, the crowd was close. I could hear them screaming. Feel them surging against the barriers. Smell the excitement in the air. And as the rest of my backing band joined in and my voice soared above it all – loud and defiant and true, I was at home. Where I belonged. The only place that had ever really made sense to me.
The lyrics to “Bright and Early” rolled from my mouth automatically; the up-tempo beat energizing and relaxing me simultaneously.
Sliding smoothly into the first chorus I turned on my heel, letting my hair – a halo of fire under the lights – fly around me as I made my way down the gently sloping ramp to the narrow space filled with screaming fans on both sides. It didn’t matter that half of them weren’t here to see me. That most didn’t know the words I was singing.
Up there, above them but with them, I was alive. No doubt or fear or sadness or anger could touch me. I was a goddess of rock and no one could tell me different. No one could touch me or take this moment away.
People wonder why rock stars turn so frequently to drugs and booze. This is why. Because nothing in real life, nothing offstage can ever come close to the dizzying sensation of holding the gaze, attention and emotions of six thousand men and women in the palm of your hand with only the power of your voice and instruments.
And for me, even with a flood of anger and sadness threatening to drown me, being onstage kept me breathing. When, for the millionth time in my life everyone I care about disappointed, the show didn’t. The lyrics were there, dragging my voice and my mood along for the ride. The drumbeat told my body what to do and where to go. Hours and hours of rehearsing made everything second-nature so I could focus on connecting with the audience, drawing the crowd closer to me, giving everything and receiving it in return. This is what I worked for. This is what I struggled for. This bright moment under the hot lights.
And as one song blended into the next the euphoria grew and intensified. I felt taller and stronger. Like my legs, encased in snakeskin-patterned leggings under the leather peplum vest that matched my knee-high boots, went on forever. I was tall enough to touch the ceiling of the arena.
I sauntered over to my backing vocalist, Janine, and threw my arm over her shoulder. Our voices blended together, dancing in harmony, wail for wail, growl for growl. At the choreographed time I kicked up a heel, grinned and then strutted away. I owned the whole stage. What looked intimidating the first time I saw it was now tiny. Dwarfed by the magic of the music.
Time passed so quickly, before I knew it I was halfway through my set. The lights went down lower and I quickly stepped to my mark for “Up to Me” as a PA slid my guitar into its stand at the front corner of the stage. Matthew entered stage left and smiled at me before taking his place next to me, behind his microphone. In black jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt, he was barely visible at first, just his face shining in the dim lights.
When we were both in place a single spotlight faded up to illuminate us, and the entire crowd went silent.
I licked my lips before speaking. “This song is called ‘Up to Me.’ It’s a new arrangement I worked on with my friend here. You might recognize him from Dream Defiled.”
The audience roared as he nodded, adjusting the strap over his shoulder.
Matthew picked out the first few bars of the song and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I lifted my guitar and joined in, drawing out the introduction. And then I sang. It was raw and beautiful and tears burned in the corners of my eyes.
“Fight a dragon in the air, always the hero, it’s never fair…”
I looked out at the few rows of faces I could see and every gaze was locked on me, crawling through the anguish of each word and soaring with the beauty of each note.
When the song ended the crowd erupted and I smiled. I gestured at Matthew and applauded, thanking him for accompanying me. He leaned over and kissed me lightly on the cheek and whispered, “You’re so open up here, but still strong. Remember that.”
My eyes widened but before I could reply he was gone and the band was preparing for the next song. Slightly flustered I fidgeted with my earpiece and pulled myself together.
And then, all too quickly, I was taking my bow and hurrying into the wings, headed for my dressing room. A PA handed me a bottle of water and helped me navigate the dark, crowded backstage area. I pushed through the throngs of people, smiling politely to the label reps and pointedly ignoring the video crew.
I could hear the sounds of partying from the green room and a few dressing rooms that belonged to the members of Playology, but I didn’t stop. I’d missed their set because I’d been downstairs warming up my voice, but I knew they’d been great. And I just wasn’t in the mood to socialize.
Once I made it to my own dressing room I slipped inside and shut the door behind me. Finally alone, I took a series of deep breaths and sank down into the makeup chair in front of the mirror.
Staring at my reflection, so many thoughts and emotions ran through me that I couldn’t catch one long enough to identify it. My face was barely sweaty at all thanks to the expert makeup artist. And my hair still looked almost perfect, if a little crunchy considering how much gel and spray had been used to make sure the sexy waves remained intact through the performance. My eyes were bright and slightly manic, my cheeks red from excitement and the heat.
I ran a finger down inside my vest and lightly grazed the pendant hanging in the hollow between my breasts. My skin was damp and warm. My heart was thundering. Tonight I was that star I’d always wanted
to be. Always knew I could be. Singing my songs, my way.
While I was still basking in the moment there was a knock on the door.
“Who is it?”
“Julia, it’s me, your…uh, Laura.”
I rolled my eyes. Some things never change. “Come in.”
She stepped inside, all smooth hair and crisp suit. The stench of her expensive perfume filled the small room and made my nose itch.
“Aren’t you a little overdressed for a rock concert, Mom?”
She sniffed. “This is professional attire, entirely appropriate for my position as your manager.”
“Yeah, whatever. What do you want?”
“To congratulate you, of course.”
She walked over, effortless in sky-high stilettos. Her hand landed lightly on my shoulder and I turned back to the mirror. “You did very well.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling weakly. Looking at us there, mother and daughter, the likeness was undeniable. Even beyond the identical shades of red hair, mine natural and hers dyed, I saw my future in her face. The soft contours of my jaw and chin whittled down sharp, the wide sensual sweep of my eyes hooded and barely lined. So alike and so different.
“Well,” she said after a long moment of silence. “Just because the first show is out of the way doesn’t mean you can relax. It only gets more difficult from now on.”
I groaned. “Really? You couldn’t let me relax for five minutes?”
“You can relax when you’re old, Julia.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “Fine.”
“So, tonight there are parties, of course.” She held up a hand as I opened my mouth to argue. “I know, I know. Don’t worry. You can skip them. I’ll explain you wanted to rest for tomorrow after so many long nights working. But you do have to put in an appearance at the fan event tomorrow afternoon.”
I sighed. “Okay. Can I go back to the hotel now?”
“I suppose. Although, it would be better if you spent some time in the green room. The camera crew wants to film some ‘backstage antics’ or what have you.”
My whole body tensed up. “No. I won’t do that.”
Laura removed her hand from my shoulder. “You can hate everyone if you want, but you’re going to have to be in front of the cameras eventually.”
“I know that,” I spat. “But not tonight.”
“All right.” She smoothed an invisible lock of hair back and checked her teeth for lipstick before retreating to the door. “It’s going to be a long tour if you spend every free moment pouting, Julia.”
“I know,” I said to myself as soon as the door shut behind her.
I managed to get back to the hotel without too much difficulty. One benefit of roaming every corner of the arena was I knew what exits would be easy to use to avoid the crowd of reporters outside and the throngs of people who didn’t have tickets for the show, but just showed up to – I don’t really know what – be a part of the event somehow, even from the parking lot.
I waited until I heard the audience screaming again, indicating that the headliners were playing. Then another few minutes to be sure everyone backstage would be busy doing whatever they do, and then I made my escape. One of the security guys walked me out to a waiting car and told the driver where to take me.
Then it was just a quick walk through the lobby and the casino and I was headed up to my room. I could remember the first few days, getting lost every time I tried to go anywhere. Now the place felt like home. Loud, smoky home full of drunken strangers, but home no less.
One I closed the door of my room my shoulders finally relaxed for real. I’d been so nervous about running into anyone, being caught fleeing. Now I was safe. I dropped my clothes on the floor and went in to run a bath. The silence was wonderful, even though my whole body was still on edge from the endorphins that had been rushing through me during the show.
By the time I washed my face and pulled my hair back, the sunken tub was full and I climbed into the steaming mass of fragrant bubbles with a sigh.
I stretched out my limbs and rested my head against the cool, tiled wall. But instead of peace and serenity, I felt…empty. I’d wanted to get away from everyone and everything, but now that I was utterly alone, it was kind of horrible. I lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling and trying to calm down and enjoy the soothing water, but I couldn’t.
I should have been out celebrating. Living it up, enjoying my success and the knowledge than years of hard work had paid off, big time.
“So why are you sitting in a bathroom moping like you got stood up by your prom date,” I asked the empty room. It didn’t have an answer, and neither did I, really. Was I just being a brat? Pouting about the camera crew for no good reason? No one else seemed to be that bothered, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I was the problem. As much as it filled me with dread to think about a bunch of strangers following me around all the time and taping everything I did, was it really such a high price to pay? Was it worth being miserable over? No. After everything I’ve given up to get here, a little privacy was nothing.
I sighed deeply at sat up, brushing suds from my arms and shoulders. Through the window I could see the Strip, and imagined I could almost pick out the lights of the arena in the distance. Dream Defiled would be done their set by now. After a quick few minutes backstage to rehydrate and change out of sweaty clothes they’d be meeting VIP members of the audience, drinking and chatting and generally feeling like kings.
And I was by myself.
“This is bullshit.”
I jumped out of the tub and climbed into the shower stall. Scrubbed myself clean and washed my hair fast. No way was I going to miss the party. My fucking party. I earned it. And I’d be damned if I let any of the people who’d let me down know that they got to me.
After toweling off and squeezing most of the moisture out of my long, red locks I threw on something sexy and shoved anything I could think of into a purse, cursing myself all the time.
Finally I was ready. After a last quick glance in the mirror I opened the door, ready to face the world. Or so I thought.
But what I saw in the hallway made me want to run back into the bathroom and hide. Rick stood there, scowling, hand curled into a fist and raised to knock.
We stood there gaping at each other for a moment, surprised. And before my brain could process anything important, I was dumbfounded by his appearance. Shirt molded to every rippling muscle, dripping with sweat, his face red and stubbled. Like a sculpture of masculine perfection. Except for the expression.
“Fuck, Julia,” he said, glaring.
That made everything come rushing back, tamping down my libido long enough to let my brain remind me I hated him. “Get the hell out of here, Rick. I told you, I never want to speak to you again.”
He shoved past me into my room. “I don’t give a shit.”
“Of course you don’t, you selfish prick,” I shouted, slamming the door, ready to do battle. “You don’t care about anything.”
He spun around and stomped back over to me, backing me against the door. “If that were true, I wouldn’t be here, sweetheart.”
“Don’t you dare come in here acting like you’re the injured party, asshole. You betrayed me.”
“I…” he paused, looking baffled. “I what?”
“You heard me. You did. All of you did. Acted like my friends, like we’re all cool. And then just lie, never say a word.”
He shook his head slowly. “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Liar. Maybe I can’t do anything about the reality show but I sure as hell don’t have to pretend to like the people who set me up.”
“Julia, stop. I don’t know what you mean. What reality show?”
“The camera crew. The ones filming everything for the whole tour.”
“You mean the concert film guys?”
“No! It’s more than that and you know it. They’re gonna be making a TV show or a web series or some sh
it, I don’t even…” Some of the anger drained out of me as I realized I didn’t even know for sure what the footage was going to be used for. I’d been so busy screaming at my mother for agreeing to it that I had forgotten to find out what exactly she’d signed me up for.
“I don’t know anything about that,” Rick said, his voice softer now.
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“But then why didn’t you say anything when I yelled at you?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Which time?”
A hint of a smile made my lip twitch. “When I said I never wanted to speak to you again.”
He shrugged and stepped back. “I figured it was just your excuse for doing what you said weeks ago.”
“Huh?” I crossed my arms in front of me, confused.
“You said we’d be together until the tour started and now it’s started, so I figured we were over.”
Things clicked into place. “That’s why you were so short with me when I came to your dressing room.”
Rick nodded.
“Well, shit.” I looked into his eyes and saw nothing that suggested he was lying. “Then what are you doing here?”
“When we came offstage Matthew told me you left. I…I wanted to see if you’re okay.”
“Really?”
He walked over to the window and looked out. “No, not really. I mean, yeah, partially. But really I just needed to tell you something and it couldn’t wait.”
“Couldn’t wait? You look like you ran over here right from the show.”
“I did. The guys are going to fucking kill me. But I had to be here as soon as possible. If I’d known before our set I would have skipped out.”
That shocked me so much I sagged back against the wall. “What? I don’t understand. What could possibly be that important?”
He approached me again, limbs tight and eyes full of intensity. When he reached me he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and made me meet his gaze. “Listen to me, I want to make myself very clear.”