To the Moon and Back: Rock Star Romance

by Lily Harlem

  Nial gestured around. “And everyone in here is listening to us, loving us. Embrace it, sweet cheeks.”

  I didn’t need to be asked twice. I put on my headphones, my love for Nial and Rich and what they’d done almost bringing tears to my eyes.

  “Never gonna tear us apart, baby, yeah, yeah, yeah!” I sung enthusiastically and in time with my own voice. It was crazy cool to be doing so. My skin tingled and I lived and breathed every moment. “To the moon and back, for all of time, yeah, yeah, yeah!”

  Rich’s fabulous solo on the guitar had me jumping up and down, spinning in a circle. Giddy and high with life.

  The chorus started again, Nial’s expert drumming accompanying my voice.

  “You and me together, forever, yeah, yeah, yeah! You and me together, forever yeah, yeah, yeah!”

  I hit the last note perfectly, and I knew it. I smiled and tipped my head from left to right and skipped on the spot.

  When the track ended and a new one slipped seamlessly through the headphones, I stopped and opened my eyes. I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them.

  Standing right in front of me was Chris Harlow, still with a baseball cap on but minus his shades.

  My feet suddenly felt rooted to the spot. My mouth fell open and my gaze connected with his.

  He was studying me with a slight smile tilting his sexy lips and his dark eyes were boring into me.

  Behind him I spotted Nial and Rich stilling, removing their headphones and, for the second time that day, sharing a look.

  Only this time I knew what they were thinking.

  What the hell is the lead singer from Scarlet Men doing here?

  I removed my headphones, the silence loud.

  All around people continued to dance to a song I could no longer hear.

  “Hello again,” I said, heat traveling through my body. He was so damn gorgeous it shouldn’t be legal.

  “How come you know the words to that song?” he asked. “It’s never been released—or so Dizzy told me earlier when I was listening to his playlist with him.”

  “Which song?” My mouth was dry, my breaths hard to catch.

  “The one that was just on, the moon and back song.”

  “What, that one? That little thing?” I giggled nervously and rolled the headphones around my hands.

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “Oh, er, because I wrote it, I guess.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You wrote it?”

  “Yeah. It’s what I like to do, write and sing, you know.”

  “Yeah.” His smile widened. “I do know. It’s what I spend most of my time doing.”

  “I can imagine…Chris.”

  He chuckled then, as though finding it amusing that I knew who he was. Why he was surprised I had no idea. He was one of the most recognizable faces in the British music industry scene right now.

  “So what’s your name?” he asked.

  “Lacy, Lacy Devon, and my band is Sliders. We’ve been together for a couple of years.”

  “You’ve got talent, promise.”

  “That means a lot, to hear you say that.”

  “And I especially like that tune. You sing from the heart, and great voice by the way.”

  The heat that had been fluttering in my chest and cheeks ramped up a level to furnace mode. I shifted from one foot to the other.

  “How many tracks have you got?”

  “How many do you want?” I laughed, hoping to ease my own tension.

  “About five.”

  “What?”

  He gestured toward the tent door. “We’re on the main stage at nine tonight, and our warm up band has just pulled out. They’ve all got some stomach flu.” He paused. “We need to implement plan B.”

  “And plan B is?”

  “Find a new supporting act.”

  I was silent. He couldn’t mean us. No. Surely not. That was ludicrous. We’d come to listen to music, not get in front of a crowd and play.

  “You.” He stepped closer and stroked the back of his thumb down my cheek. “You’re plan B.”

  I looked up at him. “Oh…I see.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  Damn, I could smell him, some divine cologne that was laced with sandalwood and black pepper.

  “Yes to what?” I sensed Rich and Nial moving in closer.

  “Sliders being our warm up act.” Chris shrugged. “I’d say we’re desperate but that doesn’t sound right because I think you’d be great, really great, and we shouldn’t have to be desperate to get you on stage. You know what I mean?” He tipped his head, pulled on his bottom lip with his teeth.

  “I think so.” I swallowed.

  “If you’ve got the balls that is.” Chris raised his eyebrows. “And the ambition.”

  “Hell yeah!” I dragged in a deep breath. “We’ve got both. And this is the rest of the band.” I nodded at Rich and Nial. “Meet my guys, Rich Topper and Nial Jones.”

  “Hey.” Chris turned to them and held out his hand.

  The three guys shook.

  “I was just saying to Lacy, we could really do with your help later, to warm up the crowd for us. I love your sound.”

  “Really?” Nial’s eyes were wide. He was a little pale, too. He pushed at his glasses.

  “Of course we’re up for it.” Rich clasped Nial’s shoulder. “Just tell us where and when.”

  Chris grinned. “Get yourselves behind the main stage at about seven. I’ll tell Security to expect you.” He turned back to me, his eyebrows raised. “It must be written in the stars that we keep running into each other.”

  “It must be.” I reached for his hand and squeezed. “Thank you for the opportunity to be heard.”

  “Someone gave Scarlet Men a chance once. That’s all it takes.”

  He turned and headed for the exit. A few people had noticed who he was and were gawping at him.

  I flung my arms around both Nial and Rich. “Can you believe it? Can you fucking believe it?”

  “No,” Nial said. “I really can’t. You might have to tell me again.”

  “We’re going to be on stage! Five tracks. Five tracks to play to the crowd.”

  “Supporting the always bloody awesome Scarlet Men.” Rich pressed his lips on mine. “Talk about right place, right time.”

  I laughed, a wonderful light sound that lifted me up with the clouds. “Come on, we need to get ready.”

  Rich turned and raised his hand in the direction of DJ Dizzy.

  Dizzy saw him, copied the gesture then did a thumbs up.

  Chapter Five

  “I’m not so sure about this.” I pressed my lips together. They were glossy with bright pink lipstick. “The crowd is huge and wild.”

  “It’ll be fine.” Rich squeezed my hand. “You’ll be great, they’ll love you.”

  “They’ll love you too.” I dragged in a deep breath. The air was heavy and humid, and swollen gun-metal gray clouds hovered on the horizon. “Both of you.”

  “You’re the star of the show.” Nial stooped and kissed my cheek. “It’ll be you they’re looking at.”

  “That doesn’t help.” My nerves were swirling, as if my insides were soup that had been vigorously stirred.

  “Hey, Sliders, how you doing?” Chris appeared, his bandmate in tow, Jed Stephenson, guitarist.

  “She’s got pre-gig jitters,” Rich said.

  Chris took my free hand and clasped it between each of his. “And if you didn’t, I’d say there was something wrong with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I’m a wreck each time I go on in front of a crowd this big, it’s daunting, scary, overwhelming.”

  “Er, yeah.” I swallowed. “And you’re not helping either.”

  He chuckled. “You wait until five minutes before I’m due on and see the state I’m in.”

  “I can’t imagine it.”

  “It’s true, isn’t it, Jed?”

  “It sure is.” Jed had an American twang. His ar
ms were full sleeve tats and he wore a black Harley wife-beater teamed with jeans ripped at the knees. Like Chris, Rich, and Nial he was handsome, but in a biker, don’t-mess-with-me-or-you’ll-regret-it way.

  “They’ll adore you.” Jed raised his eyebrows and looked me up and down. “What’s not to adore?”

  I squirmed under the scrutiny of all four guys, but if I couldn’t cope with them, how the heck was I going to cope with thousands of people staring my way?

  The interim music coming from the stage stopped. It was showtime.

  “Break a leg,” Jed said, nodding at the steps.

  “Thanks, I think.” I swallowed. Damn, was my throat dry? Was I getting an infection, a cold? The flu? Great timing.

  “Here.” Chris handed me a can of soda. “A few sips and you’ll be all set.”

  “Nice guitar you’ve got up there,” Jed said to Rich. “We should jam some time.”

  “I’d love that.” Rich nodded enthusiastically. “Like really, we should, I would, anytime.”

  Jed grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll catch you guys later, after the gig.”

  “Come on, Lacy.” Nial nodded. “This is your one chance.”

  “Our chance.”

  “Exactly. And you’ve got this. I have faith in you.”

  “Me too.” Chris leaned down and kissed my cheek. Any other time and place and I would’ve been a mush of longing on the floor. Chris Harlow had kissed me.

  But I had no time for that. I was propeled onto the stage, only just staying upright in my wedges.

  Before me an ocean of faces bobbed and jostled. Anticipation fizzed through the air the way the static from the oncoming storm was.

  I walked to my microphone, hoping to hide the fact my knees had turned to water and were no longer under my control.

  Nial banged out a quick few thuds on the drums.

  Rich strummed several keys and used his foot to kick the lead of his guitar to one side.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Hey, Rhythm-Fest, it’s so cool to be here with you guys. We’re Sliders and let us entertain you.”

  A huge roar went up. It was bizarre that my words had caused it.

  But they had.

  “And this first track…” I bellowed over the din. “Is Moon and Back.”

  Nial thudded the first few beats.

  Rich joined him.

  My heart soared. I gripped the microphone stand for support, closed my eyes and sang.

  “You and me together, forever, yeah, yeah, yeah!

  Never gonna tear us apart, baby, yeah, yeah, yeah!

  To the moon and back, for all of time, yeah, yeah, yeah!”

  I was lost to the rhythm, the words, the beat of the drums that was my second heartbeat.

  After the first verse I felt brave enough to open my eyes.

  The people in the front row were smiling, jigging, not singing—they didn’t know the words. But a few were clapping to the beat. Several girls with flowers in their hair and bright face paint were on the shoulders of men. One gave me the thumbs up, her smile as bright as any star.

  Seeing her spurred me on. I released the microphone stand and strutted to the right. My knees were almost solid again. Plunging into the second verse, I waved my right hand high, encouraging the crowd to do the same.

  The effect was instantaneous. A ripple of arms wafting left to right.

  I walked up to Rich, held the microphone so he could sing a line with me, then ran my hand over his shoulder before gliding to the opposite side of the stage.

  The song came to an end, but Nial went in for another chorus. I followed him and noticed some of the crowd singing along now.

  We paused between numbers and I swigged from a water bottle.

  “We love you, Sliders.”

  “Yeah! More, more.”

  I could hardly believe my ears. They liked it. They wanted more.

  “And there is more.” I set back my shoulders and raised my arm. “You at the back, you want more?”

  “Yes!” The roar was music to my ears.

  Rich ran his fingers down the strings, a familiar intro to our next song.

  And then I was off again, singing, doing the thing I loved with the men I loved. And this time not in Rich’s garage, or a local pub—we were entertaining the masses at the hippest festival of the summer…on center stage.

  When the final song started up, I felt invincible, as if I’d just won the world. I sang, swaying my hips, strutting, acting out the words that had been written from my heart.

  I spotted Chris and Jed in the wings. Both had their arms folded, feet apart and a look of intense concentration as they watched my every move.

  I sashayed a little more as I entered the last chorus of Sweet Cheeks. Chris and Jed’s attention weighed heavier than the crowd’s. What were they thinking? What did they see when they saw me; us?

  Our slot came to an end. I was breathing hard. “And we’re Sliders. Thank you for listening and being with us here today.”

  The applause lasted until we’d ran off the stage, both Rich and Nial holding my hands.

  Elation was like a drug and I was high on it—high on life and high on music.

  I can’t believe that just happened.

  “That was incredible.” Rich swung me around.

  Nial grabbed me from him and planted a kiss on my lips. “You were amazing.”

  I laughed. “I loved it, every minute of it.”

  “I have to say.” Chris shook his head. “You’re going to be a hard act to follow.”

  “Don’t be silly.” I hugged him. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to do. To throw my arms around a superstar and press up against his hot, hard body. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  He laughed and pulled me closer still. “We’re the ones thanking you. Without Sliders getting the crowd going, our job would be much tougher.”

  “Talking of the crowd, they’re waiting.” Jed tapped his watch. "Put her down, Chris and get your ass on stage.”

  Chris released me into Nial’s waiting arms. “We should hang out later. I reckon a storm is going to hit. We’ve got a trailer. Join us—all of you.”

  “Are you sure, we wouldn’t want to—” I started.

  “We’d love to.” Rich grinned. “Thanks.”

  “Excellent.” Chris smiled at me, the corners of his eyes creasing a little. “Wish me luck.”

  “Break a leg.” My heart did a little flip. Our time with Scarlet Men wasn’t over yet.

  Chris and Jed were of course utterly brilliant and wowed the crowd even though the evening had darkened owing to the fat bellies of the clouds inching ever closer and blocking out the sunset.

  Rich, Nial and I relished standing in the wings watching them. We were more than fans now; we were the support act—we were in with the cool gang.

  And damn they’re hot, Chris and Jed.

  A shiver of longing went through me. I was used to having the sexual attention of two guys—but the attention of four? How the heck would that feel?

  Pretty damn awesome.

  But Rich and Nial would never go for it. Never let me have some fun with Chris and Jed.

  Or would they?

  If there were two guys they might share me with it would be their two idols, the guitarist and singer-songwriter from their favorite band.

  I squeezed each of their hands, hoping they knew how much I adored them, and that fancying some fun with Chris and Jed didn’t detract from that. We were free-loving people. We took and gave pleasure, celebrating love and peace and all that encompassed. Nothing was wrong if it felt good, that was what we always said.

  When Scarlet Men’s two-hour session came to an end, the rain was just beginning to fall. Great big thunder spots the size of fifty pence pieces.

  A streak of white-hot lightning accompanied Jed and Chris as they rushed from the stage into the wings.

  “I hope this thing is earthed,” Jed said, looking up at the met
al structure.

  “Yeah, course it is,” a rotund guy with red cheeks said. Ted Dunn, their manager. “But you kids get out of here before we find out for sure. And you…” He wafted his finger in my direction. “You and your crew, hunt me down tomorrow. I’ve got some ideas for Sliders I’d like to put to you.”

  “Really? You have?” I clasped my hands together. “Ideas?”

  He huffed. “I’d have to be either stone-deaf or bloody stupid not to have, and, young lady, I don’t want to be either of those things any time soon.”

  A sudden peal of thunder was louder than any drum and I jumped, clasping my hands around myself.

  “Hey.” Rich laughed, pulling me into a hug. “It’s okay.”

  “We should get outta here,” Chris said. “Come on, our trailer is this way.”

  “I’m not fancying our tent tonight,” I said to Rich as we followed.

  “Perhaps you won’t need to.” Jed winked at me. “Sex, drugs and rock n roll, baby.”

  Chapter Six

  The band’s trailer was incredible. A big American-style thing with sections that extended out when it was static to double the inner space.

  We rushed in through the skinny door, escaping the weather, and in my mind dodging a bolt of lightning that was chasing us.

  “Wow, that’s wild,” I said, pushing wet strands of hair from my brow. “And it’s been so hot all day.”

  “Which is why it’s so wild,” Jed said. “I grew up in Kansas. When the summer days went on endlessly we always knew what the price would be.”

  “Tornado country, huh,” Rich said, toeing off his sneakers which had gotten muddy. The carpet in the trailer was a plush cream affair.

  “Yeah, hence the song Twister.” Jed grinned and removed his boots, then slung them into the pile where everyone else’s had gone.

  “Ah, that was top of the charts for weeks,” Nial said. “Congrats on that one.”

  “Cheers, buddy.”

  “So what’s everyone drinking?” Chris pulled open the door of a vast chrome refrigerator. “Ah, champagne, it has to be. To celebrate Sliders’ first festival performance.”

  I glanced around. To my right were several doors which I presumed led to bedrooms and a bathroom, and to my left was a lavish seating area with three deep-cushioned red sofas, mahogany furniture and a large flat screen TV.