Rocked in the Dark

by Clara Bayard

  Rocked in the Dark

  By Clara Bayard

  Rocked Series, #7

  Copyright © 2013 by Clara Bayard

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  www.ClaraBayard.com

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  With everything to lose…

  Julia has fought and struggled to get exactly where she wants to be. On a huge nationwide tour, singing her songs, living life on her own terms. After a lifetime of ups and downs, the curvy beauty knows all too well that fame and success are fleeting and nothing is certain.

  Passion blooms…

  Her immediate dislike for Dream Defiled’s drummer, Rick, adds to the stress on her shoulders. But when circumstances conspire to keep forcing them together, the pair discovers an inexplicable attraction that cannot be denied.

  …In the dark.

  ONE

  Standing in the middle of the empty stage, everything felt right and perfect for an all too brief moment. The theater around me was dark and silent. All I could hear was the sound of my own breathing and the soft swish of my hair against my back as I opened my mouth to sing.

  But before the first note could leave my throat, lights blinded me from every direction and the sound of stomping feet reminded me I was not in my own world. Every spotlight flared and rolled, sending a kaleidoscope of colors over the reflective floor. A small army of black-clad men wheeled and carried equipment behind me and three people, deep in conversation, crossed in front of me. Two men in business suits and a woman poured into a dress that displayed every bony inch of her body. Her voice rose above the others and drove my building irritation to anger.

  “Yes, the effects are very dramatic, but that doesn’t help us. It’s a little small, is all I’m saying,” she said, making my mouth slam shut hard enough that my teeth ached.

  “There will be plenty of rehearsal time in each city on the tour,” one of the men answered. “Think of this theater as just a regular practice space before we move to the arenas. The hotel was nice enough to let us use the place before it opens next month. That saves everyone commuting time.”

  “Don’t talk down to me, young man. I’ve been in this business since you were still soiling your cartoon character pajamas.”

  At that, I snorted. She spent so much money trying to look like she was half her age and then busted out with comments like that. Ridiculous. I must have been louder than I realized because all three of them turned to face me.

  “What are you doing just standing there? Don’t you see everyone working hard around you?” the woman asked.

  “I was trying to get a sense of the space, Mom.”

  Even under the lights, fake tan and makeup, I could see her face go pale. “Silly, you always call me Laura.” Something dark flashed behind her eyes before she turned to the others and smiled broadly. “We’re really more like sisters than mother and daughter.”

  “Of course,” the other man, in the too-tight suit and over-gelled hair said, nodding. “I bet no one believes you could have a twenty-one year-old daughter.”

  Choking back bile, I rolled my eyes. “Isn’t there somewhere else you could have your meeting? I’d like to do some singing up here, if you don’t mind. And please tell them to stop with the lights. I’m getting motion-sick.”

  My mother glared at me and then giggled in what I’m sure she thought was a girlish way. “Come along, fellas. The sensitive artist needs some privacy.”

  The ensuing laughter made me wish I could pick up one of the crates behind me and throw it at them, but they did actually wander off slowly to the wings, so I just stood still, breathing and waiting, watching my mother’s freshly blown out hair retreat into the gloom of the backstage area. It was stupid in comparison to the millions of reasons I had to despise her, but I couldn’t stand the fact that she dyed her hair to match my natural shade precisely. And had been lying about it since my strawberry blond darkened to its current copper hue. As I struggled to make my gritted teeth relax I thought she might be right. We were more like sisters. The kind who plot to murder and torture each other on historical television shows.

  “Get it together, Jules,” I muttered to myself. I’d been in such a good mood; I didn’t want to ruin it. I had to let go of the noise and confusion, the garish design of the theater.

  Tuning out the lights and muffled sounds around me, I closed my eyes and relaxed my shoulders. Imagining an audience full of fans, I inhaled deeply and then began to sing. Each note floated perfectly across the air, soaring around the large, empty theater. “In the dark where my strength hides, locked away deep behind my tears,” I sang, letting the memories of writing those words take be back, infuse every sound with pain and resolve. I continued, running through the first two verses and chorus of the single that had finally gotten me back here where I belonged. It felt amazing and terrifying. My voice wasn’t as warmed up as it could have been, but it was strong and true and I ignored the nagging in the back of my mind about every imperfection.

  “Good shit!” someone shouted from the middle of the theater, and there was a smattering of applause.

  I opened my eyes and sighed. Another fucking interruption. Squinting out, I saw a bunch of people standing in the aisle. There were four guys and one girl, most of them close to my age and all dressed casually, so they couldn’t all be record label people. Probably college students on vacation or some such shit, who didn’t understand the sign on the door that said “Closed to the Public.”

  “What are you doing in here? No one’s allowed in here.”

  While I spoke they approached, climbing the stairs up to the stage as if I’d said nothing.

  “Hey! Get out of here…” I trailed off as I realized they looked familiar.

  “Sorry,” the one who’d spoken before said. He was cute, if a little skinny for my taste. He had spiky dark hair and the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. “You sound great.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I replied. “Now do you mind?”

  One of the others shoved past the cutie, and this one was anything but skinny. “Do we mind? Who the fuck are you talking to? This is our goddamn theater.”

  My face reddened and my eyes narrowed.

  He stepped forward again, all swagger and bullshit. One of those guys who thinks just because he’s tall and built and, I couldn’t help but notice, really sexy in a jackass way, he can intimidate everyone. Did I mention really sexy? Short cropped hair, chiseled jaw and strong body barely contained by tight jeans and a black t-shirt that hugged every thick rope of muscle.

  I don’t think I’d ever hated anyone on sight before, so that was an interesting experience.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You got a hearing problem, sweetheart?”

  “Do you?” I strode over to him, glad my high heeled boots at least put the top of my head above his shoulder. Staring daggers doesn’t work as well when you’re a foot shorter than them.

  “Jesus.” He shook his head. “Why am I cursed to be surrounded by mouthy bitches?”

  Then there was nothing but murder on my mind. “Listen, asshole,” I spat at him before the cute guy jumped between us.

  “Whoa, now. Let’s all calm down, okay? You’re Julia, right?”

  I barely glanced at him, but nodded.

  “I’m Joe Hawk. We’re on the tour with you?”

  “Shit.” I unclenched my fists and looked at Joe. That’s why they looked so familiar. “You guys are Dream Defiled.”

  He grinned. “Sure are. Nice to meet you.”

  I cringed. “You too, I guess.” I was about to apologize for being rude, and explain about all the interruptions, but the big guy was still staring me down with a sneer. “Wanna call off your attack dog, Joe, before I put him down
?”

  Joe laughed, as did some of the others, but the big guy just stood there, fuming.

  “Watch your mouth, sweetheart.”

  “Watch this, shithead,” I said, flipping him off and turning on my heel.

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t really anywhere to go. My mother was probably still backstage being annoying. But I couldn’t stay there or I’d kill this tall dark and idiotic guy. So I walked a wide circle around them and down the stairs. I didn’t need the theater to sing, so I figured I’d go back up to my room. At least I could lock that door, keep everyone away.

  But before I got far, the girl with Dream Defiled caught up to me. She grabbed my arm and made me stop.

  “Hey, I’m sorry about that,” she said earnestly. Which, of course, just bugged me more. So much for that good mood.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Please, wait.”

  I stopped and glared at her.

  “I’m Becca, I work for the band. They’re just really keyed up to be here. Rehearsing in Vegas is kind of their idea of heaven.”

  I looked her up and down as she babbled, trying to “handle” me. Becca was pretty in a girl-next-door way, with long blond hair she kept fidgeting with as if she wasn’t used to wearing it down. She was kind of pear shaped and made the mistake a lot of chubby girls do – wearing clothes too big for them. After spending most of my life with people analyzing everything I wear, it’s natural for me to do the same thing. I considered how cute she’d look in a nice bright body-conscious mini dress while barely paying attention to what she was saying.

  But as I was about to write her off as a peon airhead, she said the magic words.

  “…Though, none of that excuses Rick’s behavior. He’s just a dick, frankly. But good for you, standing up to him.”

  I blew out a mild laugh. There was no question who she was talking about. “Honey, I’ve dealt with bigger assholes than him since I was a kid. Don’t worry; I’m not going upstairs to cry.”

  She smiled tightly. “Okay. I mean, I didn’t think that. I just wanted to let you know they’re not all like him. And we’re sorry for barging in on you.”

  In spite of myself, I softened. “It’s okay. I guess we’re all going to have to get used to being around each other.” I gestured around the space. “That’s part of the point of this, right?”

  “Yeah. The label figured it would create camaraderie or something. Or they were too cheap to rent separate spaces.”

  My laugh this time was fuller and real. “That sounds more like it.”

  Becca smiled again. “Probably. Well, I’ll let you go. See you later.”

  “Sure.” I crossed my arms as she walked back up to the stage. The eyes of one of the other guys in the band never left her and I wondered if they were together. I’d never be that stupid. Going on the road with the same people for months on end was hard enough without adding romantic drama to it. Of course, it helped that there was no one in the band I’d ever be interested in. Joe was too skinny. The guy gazing adoringly at Becca was kind of hot, but obviously taken. The tall, quiet one tuning his guitar and talking to one of the techs might as well have been invisible. And Rick, well, yeah. That was never happening. My eyes drifted over to where he stood, legs apart like the king of dipshit mountain, bitching about something again to the others.

  I rolled me eyes and started back up the aisle again. This time I almost made it to the door before something stopped me. I was starting to think I was cursed to be trapped in a room with Dream Defiled forever.

  What stopped me was all the lights went out. Pitch black for a second and then the eerie sickly glow of emergency lights barely lit the room except for a bright strip along the floors leading to the exit, no doubt for safety purposes.

  A hail of laughter and curses from the stage and beyond made me smile for the first time all day.

  “Everyone stay calm,” Becca called out. “Let’s give it a few minutes to see if the lights come back on.”

  “No thanks,” I muttered to myself before turning to push the door open. When I made it out into the theater’s small lobby I saw the lights out there were out as well. I shrugged and walked carefully down the non-functioning escalator and back to the main floor of the hotel. From down the hall I could hear slot machines clanging and people’s voices. Obviously the power in the casino was fine.

  Trying to remember where the turn was to find the elevators that would take me back to my room, I wandered a bit, unsuccessfully. I gave up and dove into the din that was the casino floor, looking for a sign or a staff-member.

  What I found was a middle-aged couple dragging about forty kids and as much luggage around, seemingly as lost as I was.

  The woman stopped dead in her tracks and yelped. “Oh my gosh! Oh, wow! Ed, don’t you know who this is?”

  The flash of recognition in her face switched on my game face automatically. A fake smile spread across my face and I patted my hair to make sure it looked okay. “Hi.”

  Her mouth gaped open. “Gosh, I can’t believe it.” Ignoring the children slowly dispersing through the crowd, she slapper her husband on the arm. “Ed! This is little Max from that show I liked.”

  I cringed inside. Any pleasure I might have gotten from being recognized died. She didn’t know me. She wasn’t excited to meet me. She remembered Max King, the character I played on King of Hearts when I was a pre-teen.

  The husband peered at me through fogged glasses. “She don’t look little to me.”

  I snorted out a laugh. The man did have a point. Most of the country had last seen me as a skinny fourteen year-old. All freckles and bony knees. So many years later I’ve filled out a lot, in good and bad ways, depending on who you ask.

  “Ed, that’s rude.”

  I shook my head and took the woman’s offered hand. “Don’t worry, I didn’t take offense. What’s your name?”

  “Margie. Margie Walton. It’s a real pleasure to meet you. I watched your show every week. Used to sing along and everything, even though I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.

  My next smile was genuine. She seemed sweet, and after the shit day I’d been having so far, a little sweetness suited me just fine.

  “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Walton.”

  She giggled. “Oh, gosh. Call me Margie. We practically grew up together.”

  I nodded and looked at her closer. Behind the exhausted eyes and cheap clothes, I saw she was right. Margie was probably only a few years older than me. But her life was so different from mine. Where she was on vacation with her family, I was starting over – again. Clawing my way up from the bottom and hoping to make something of myself again before it was too late.

  “What are you doing here, Max – I mean, Julia? On a trip?”

  “Nope. Working. I’m in rehearsals for a tour.”

  “Oh, that sounds exciting.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Must be great to get to see so many places, go all over and do whatever you want.” She smiled and then sighed as she noticed her brood was all but gone. “Have no one to worry about but yourself.”

  “I love my job, but it’s not perfect.”

  She nodded, with a look of real understanding on her face. She grabbed the back of a little boy’s shirt as he went running past. “Nothing ever is, I suppose.”

  Truer words were never spoken. As I watched her reorganize her family, I wondered which of us was happier. She might wish she had more free time and no one to worry about. But the thing is, when you have no one, there’s no one worrying about you either. I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by people who were paid to take care of me. But none of them loved me. And when my career floundered and the money dried up, they disappeared like Margie’s kids when her attention was turned. But those people didn’t come back. Didn’t giggle and fling themselves at my legs with joy. Didn’t look at me with the love I saw in Margie’s kids’ eyes.

  A lump formed in my throat and I excused myself.

  “It was
great meeting you. Have a wonderful time in Vegas.”

  Margie grinned at me. “If you end up playing in my town I’ll get a sitter and make sure I go.”

  I pulled a card from my purse and handed it to her. “Call this number for my management. I’ll have someone set aside tickets for you.”

  “Really? Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She was about to say something when one of her kids fell off the suitcase she’d been climbing and began to wail.

  I chuckled and turned around, ready to begin my search again. Instead, I found myself looking at Becca.

  “That was really sweet,” she said, as we watched Margie and Ed finally manage to get their family moving again.

  “Part of the job.” I eyed her. “Why are you following me?”

  She smiled. “I get it. You’re the tough girl. Fine with me.”

  I frowned.

  “Just wanted to tell you the venue manager says the power will be out for thirty minutes. But as an apology they’re offering an open bar upstairs.”

  I was torn. On one hand, I really wanted to go back to my room and be alone. But I wasn’t even sure how to get there, and maybe a drink or two would cheer me up, or at least distract me for a while, even if I wasn’t really looking forward to spending time with those people. And there might be a sign on the way so I could find the elevator.

  “All right,” I finally said. “Take me to the booze.”

  TWO

  In the five minutes it took for Becca to lead me to the balcony bar overlooking the casino floor, the party had clearly started without us. She played hostess, introducing me to everyone I didn’t know. Joe was there, but on the phone. The cute guy I’d noticed watching Becca was Dex. And from the way she brightened just saying his name; they were really into each other. He had a British accent, but it wasn’t strong, as if he’d spent a lot of time in the States. Quiet guy was Matthew. He nodded at me then went back to staring into his beer. Rick, happily, was nowhere to be seen.

  I spotted my mother a few tables down with the suits from the label. She looked fine for the moment but there’d be another blow up soon. That was inevitable.