“That thought didn’t even cross my mind,” Dusty says, although truth be told, I bet he would think it’s cool if Maddox did bust up his bar. Men!
“Can I talk to you for a few minutes? Now?” He looks at me expectantly, and even over the noise Britt and Dusty either heard him too or are just nosey because they are staring at me as well.
“What? No direct orders or finger snapping this time?”
He smirks, “Not today.”
Uncomfortably, I look at Dusty, “Is it okay if I take a quick break?”
“Of course,” Dusty says with excitement in his eyes. “We’re covered,” he says referring to the bar.
“Thanks,” I force a smile not at all sure I want to hear whatever Maddox came to say. But then again if he’s going to let me down and tell me they decided to go another way, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that would volunteer to come and tell me in person. So I’ve got nothing. I look at Britt quickly and we both shrug at each other.
Weaving through the crowd, I follow Maddox toward the door. He keeps his head down, but it doesn’t matter, he’s still stopped along the way and asked to sign a couple things. I see people act like they’re looking at their phones while discreetly taking photos of him, but it’s obvious as hell. I bet a picture of him gets a pretty penny considering how much press he gets. Oh yeah, I did my research. There’s been a lot of gossip about him and reading it all kept me rather entertained for a few hours.
When we’re finally outside, he moves down the sidewalk a few steps and I follow. When he stops and turns to me, I move to the building and lean against it waiting for him to spit out whatever he needs to say.
“You’ve got kind of an attitude, you know that?” He says to me.
“Me? Are you kidding me right now?” He smiles and I realize he purposefully goaded me. Apparently, he finds me amusing. Rolling my eyes, I snap, “Just spit it out. What did you come here to say?”
“What makes you think I came here to say anything? Maybe I just wanted to hear you sing karaoke. I mean after Jace and Rick told us about it, I had to see the karaoke queen for myself.”
“Well I’d believe you except for the fact you asked to speak to me. So, I’m guessing you want something.”
“Maybe I just wanted to get you alone.”
His gaze rakes me from head to toe making my toes curl in my shoes. He’s messing with me, but I can play that game, “Oh, yeah?” I ask tucking my hair behind my ear and licking my lips. His eyes track my movements. Taking a step closer, I lift my face up to his, “Why didn’t you say so?” His eyes move from mine to my lips and back again. His head moves a little closer and that damn curl at the corner of his mouth makes my stomach flip. If I wait one more second, his lips will be on mine, “Maddox?” I practically whisper.
“Yeah?” he says, his breath hot against my lips.
“I’m. Not. Interested.” I tell him, my stomach burning from the lie and my performance, and I turn to walk away.
“Yeah well…me either!” he calls to my back.
I turn to face him, still curious about why he came here to begin with. “Then what do you want? What’s on your mind? Spit it out, Maddox, or I’m going back inside,” I tell him.
“You did great at the audition the other night,” he says so quickly it takes a second for the words to register. “I’m sure you know that,” he adds. I stare at him not at all sure how to respond. Partly because I feel like I’m going to puke, and partly because I don’t want to sound conceited or something, so I choose to say nothing at all. “You seem to have some talent. But, in truth, there are concerns about your limited experience and your ability to be a true professional. We also wonder if your look will distract from or enhance us?” he says and his words sting a bit. My stomach drops. I feel defensive for a moment and want to tell him and his stupid band mates that they can all go fuck themselves. “But…”
“But, what?” I ask angrily.
He stares at me for a minute, “Look, truth is, the band doesn’t really want a chick.”
“A chick?” I interrupt immediately indignant. “Seriously?”
“Fine, we don’t want a woman. And if we do get one, well, it has to be the right one. I mean, some people may think your look and style is hot…” he says making me wish I had just kept my mouth closed. I refuse to blush or respond to his backhanded comments. “The guys and I… it’s been just the four of us for a while and I think this is the fucking stupidest…” he sighs and looks down, takes a deep breath and bites his bottom lip. “It doesn’t matter. It is what it is. The guys…well, they have some worries that if we choose you that you and I will create problems for the band.”
“Why?”
“Well, our first meeting didn’t exactly instill confidence that we can get along. And those other issues, I referenced.”
“Hey, that wasn’t my fault,” I begin and find myself pointing at him in anger, ignoring the other comments and focusing on that event only. “You snapped your fingers at me like a dog. Who does that? Dogs don’t even deserve that!”
“It was an honest mistake,” he argues.
“It still makes you an asshole. And if it hadn’t been me, you still would have snapped your fingers at Bethany!”
“What do you care?” he asks sharply.
“You aren’t the only one that has reservations. Maybe I’m not sure if I can work with some entitled asshole.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“Back at you.”
“God, this isn’t going to get us anywhere,” he says running his hand through his hair in exasperation. “I’m sorry, alright? I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t even know why I did - to tell you the truth. I guess I was just on edge.” I roll my eyes not caring one bit about some lame excuse. He sees my reaction and clears his throat. “The reason I’m here is because I think you and I need to spend some time together and see if this,” he points between us, “is going to work.”
“What do you mean by ‘spend time together’?”
“How about we meet for a late lunch tomorrow or an early dinner?”
“Lunch or early dinner? You mean you don’t stay up partying all night and sleep all day?”
“No, actually, I don’t. Usually.”
“Well some rebel you are. I think the mags have got it all wrong.”
“Not all of it,” he says and while he wears a smirk upon his lips, that’s where the humor ends because there’s nothing but sadness in his eyes. “Look, let’s get together and we can get to know each other a little better, see if working together, and tolerating each other is something we’d be able to do.”
“I don’t have to tolerate you to be able to sing with you,” I state defiantly.
“Seriously?” he asks throwing his hands up in the air. What a drama queen. “That proves you have no idea of what it’s like…traveling together, being on the road together…it’s way bigger than just making music.”
I sigh, “Fine. I’ll meet you. Early dinner?”
“Yes,” he says calming since he sees I’m considering it.
“Well, okay,” I reply with more reservations than I can even count, “that works because I work at nine.”
“Okay, then how about we meet at six?”
“Fine,” I tell him and we do that awkward stand and stare thing again. My first impression of him was not a good one. And it didn’t get better when he made fun of my name, so I have no clue what is happening here. Instead of pushing back and demanding some answers, internally I’m freaking out because this singing thing could really be happening. I could really be asked to join their band - to sing professionally. I feel like this is a dream come true and it’s taking everything I have right now to remain calm.
“Sailor?” He says and I get the impression it’s not the first time he’s said my name.
“Yeah?”
“So can I have it?”
“Have it?”
“Your address. So I can pick you up?”
<
br /> “How about I meet you there?”
He pauses, but then nods. “Okay. Then can I have your phone number? I’ll pick a place tomorrow then text you with the location.”
“Alright,” I tell him and watch as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and punches in the number I give him. When I feel a buzzing in my back jeans pocket, I pull my own phone out and look at the screen. Briefly I think of all the women that would kill to have what I’m now staring at – his number.
“Got it,” I tell him and then stare at him awkwardly.
“Sailor?”
We’re interrupted by a bar patron that has stumbled out of the bar. He’s smiling and claps me on the shoulder, “Your songs were great. I always like hearing you sing.”
“Thank you, that’s really nice of you.”
“You should be on the radio. I would pay to come and hear you in concert. It would be awesome,” he says slurring his words a little.
“I think you’ve had too much to drink, Russ,” I tell him with a laugh.
“No, I’m serious. See you again next week,” he calls cheerfully before he turns away and walks down the sidewalk with a group of friends. I wave at them before turning around to once again face Maddox, but he’s gone. I look around, as well as up and down the street, but I don’t see him anywhere.
Confused, I walk back into the bar just as my phone buzzes in my hand. Looking down, that same number appears with a text. “See you tomorrow.” I sigh and begin putting my phone back in my pocket, but it buzzes again. “That drunk was right. Your singing was good, the other day and tonight,” another text from his says. Immediately, my heart stutters in my chest and nerves make my hands shake.
I head straight to the restroom, but not before tapping Britt on the shoulder and motioning for her to come with me. She hops off her chair and follows me without a word. When we get inside there are a couple girls milling about and we wait for them to leave before Britt demands, “What was that all about?”
“Well, bottom line, he said that he and the guys have doubts about me.”
“What the fuck? Your singing is amazing! What more do they want?”
“He said they have reservations about whether or not Maddox and I can get along and given my lack of experience, if I’m up for this. Which honestly, I understand I guess. The man is exasperating.”
“But sexy as hell,” she says.
“I’m being serious here, Britt.”
“I am too,” she smiles then rolls her eyes when I don’t join her. “Think about it. Given everything they are probably going through with Maddox right now in the tabloids, you can’t really blame them for not wanting to add someone to the group if it would only create more drama.”
“True, but I’m pretty sure they don’t want anyone at all, so there’s going to be some drama with anyone I think.”
“Good point.”
“So, he asked me out to dinner,” I tell her.
“He totally hit on you didn’t he?”
“No, nothing like that,” I respond and reflect on our conversation and my teasing him. When we acted like we were going to kiss, that was just seeing how far we could push the other. “He said he wanted to take the opportunity to get to know me better. To make sure that we can get along and potentially be in a band together.”
“And you said yes, right?”
“Britt, I’m not stupid, come on.”
“I know that, but I mean, you did pour water on him.”
“He deserved that!”
“Yes, he did. But, I have a feeling that won’t be the last time he does something that earns that kind of reaction from you.”
Thinking about the way he watched me tonight – the indefinable look in his eyes, the smirk on his face – then the way he looked at me outside, I think she may be right. God help him if so, because I don’t plan on taking any shit. I’ve been through enough in my life and I won’t be walked on again. Not ever. So, look out Maddox Colt, you won’t intimidate me.
As soon as I walk into the kitchen at Rocco’s house, all the guys look at me like another head is growing out of my neck. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You…look normal,” Henley says lamely.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I ask.
“Well, it’s been ages since we’ve seen you walk into a room looking normal. Meaning, you don’t appear to be hung over, your hair is brushed, and dude, you’re like dressed nice and shit,” he replies looking me up and down.
I look at Rocco for some help and see I’m not going to get it. He’s covering his mouth and it’s clear he’s trying not to laugh. “Really, man,” Nixon grabs my attention. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe we should check him for a fever,” he says to the others. “Rocco, do you have a thermometer?”
“Seriously?” I ask him snidely.
“Dude, you can’t blame me for asking.”
“Alright enough, let’s lay off of him. We don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth do we?” Rocco instructs and I give them all a vulgar gesture and they laugh. “Alright, so the reason we needed to meet is to discuss a few things now that we’ve all agreed that Sailor is the girl we’d like to join the band.” I clear my throat loudly and Rocco rolls his eyes. “You’ll agree because you know she’s the best choice, so I’m ignoring that.”
Digging my phone out of my pocket, I place it on the table and check the time. I hope this is going to be a quick meeting. I texted Sailor earlier letting her know to meet me at Thorn, a popular restaurant where I was thankful to get us reservations. There’s no way I want her to show up before me and wait around for me to arrive. I may be an ass at times, but my mom still raised me to have manners. Besides, given the little bit I know of her so far I get the feeling she’d leave if I kept her waiting too long. Quickly, I set an alarm so that if the meeting runs long, or I lose track of time, I’m notified when I need to get myself out the door.
“Beer?” Henley asks me when he grabs one for himself. There’s all kinds of food on the table. Bowls almost overflowing with chips and pretzels, the snack cake things that Nixon likes and even candy. The guys all dig in and stuff their faces. I shake my head at Henley’s question, which I notice makes them all look at me funny again.
“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” I say, not willing to wait for them to eat before we discuss whatever needs to be done here.
“Yes, boss,” Nixon mutters before shoving a chip in his mouth.
“We got a call from Jace. Rick is considering contacting Sailor to tell her she’s got the gig if she wants it. Guess he is also considering some additional auditions. Anyway, before they reach out to her or anyone, they want some information from us.”
“Like what?” Nixon asks.
“They’d like an idea of how long it’s going to take us to write in a duet part for the female on all of our new material.”
“Why?” Henley asks before popping a cheese puff in his mouth.
“When the individual goes to Rick’s office to sign the contract I guess they’ll let her know where and when to meet us for rehearsals. They want us to get started as soon as possible.”
“Of course they do,” Nixon complains. “Forget the fact that we’ll just have done a one-eighty to have this happen and that we will just have chosen her. Don’t we get any time to get used to the idea?”
“I don’t think they really care about an adjustment period for us. Fortunately, I anticipated that,” Rocco says. We all look at him expectantly, “After they laid down the ultimatum about adding a woman, I took the liberty of getting started on implementing a female part in our songs, old and new. Even though I don’t know the style or range yet the person will bring, some of what would be needed is obvious and whoever is chosen will have to be able to perform the music as rewritten. Some can be modified. So we are fairly good to go.”
“Are we supposed to be surprised by this?” Nixon asks.
“Well, I guess not.”
“That’s g
reat, Rocco. I don’t think anyone is upset that you took initiative,” I add kindly.
“What are all of your thoughts on practicing? I mean, any conflicts on days or times? Preferences?”
We all shake our heads, “I think selection and then practices should occur the sooner the better though,” I say. “Whoever she is, she’ll have a lot of songs to learn, we need to record them, and start rehearsal for tour. There’s a lot to cover in a short period of time.”
“I agree,” Rocco says and the other two nod as well. “Hopefully she’ll be a quick learner.”
We continue to hash out details and the conversation moves to what our vision is for this tour. “Since we are adding another member, shouldn’t this also be a conversation that our new member is included in?” Rocco asks.
“What? Why?” I ask.
“Well, because she’s going to be a member of the band now too. She may have input,” Rocco adds.
“I’m not sure what I think about that,” I answer honestly.
“What a shock,” Henley says and I ignore him.
“Why? What are your concerns? It’s only fair,” Rocco says.
“She,” I say with as much sarcasm as possible,” has no experience other than singing karaoke in a bar. Why would we ask her for an opinion?” Part of me feels like shit for asking, especially when Nixon curses and Henley shakes his head, but hell it’s true. I open my mouth to explain further, or maybe mouth off to Nixon or Henley, I’m not sure, but Rocco stops me.
“So, you do think it will be Sailor. Alright,” Rocco holds up a hand. “I get what you’re saying, even though I think you sound like a dick.”
“Seriously, man?” Henley asks Rocco likely pissed off that Rocco agrees with me.
“I don’t assume that her opinion will be invaluable, but what I think Maddox means to say is that we need to set up some boundaries.”
“I think you both sound like assholes,” Nixon says. “She seemed like a cool chick. I get that this isn’t what we’d prefer, we’ve established that several times over, but this is where we are like it or not, so we may as well get the fuck over our shit and deal with it. And I think it’s hard to imagine anyone having any better sound. I think Sailor is the obvious choice.”
Broken Melody (Graffiti On Tour Series) Page 7