Sweet Illusions (Indigo Bay Sweet Romance Series Book 4)

by Jeanette Lewis

  But they had to give him a chance. There was only so much one person could do, especially with something as large and complicated as the music industry. He was working on it, and the video they were shooting now would be key in helping him sell the band to the various record labels.

  Sebastian evidently decided the conversation had gone on long enough without him and he came toward the group, picking his way through the sand. His pale blond hair ruffled in the wind and his sunglasses hid steely blue eyes that were small and deeply set, a feature made even more prominent by his rather beaky nose.

  “What’s the problem here?” he asked when he reached the group. He did not remove the sunglasses.

  “Why can’t we be in the shot?” Leeson demanded. “We’re all standing around freezing our butts off for nothing.”

  “You’re freezing your butt off?” Kynley demanded. “I’m practically getting hypothermia.” Another shiver went through her, despite the warm robe and the hot tea.

  Leeson gave her a quick look; his sneer said it all. Who cared if you got hypothermia as long as you were in the video?

  “Okay, how about this,” Gordon broke in, ever the peacemaker. “Let’s start over with the band in the background and we’ll do several different camera angles so we get you all in?”

  Leeson gave him a skeptical look, then nodded shortly and made his way back to the tent to update the other band members. Kynley knew they were in there, grouped together and joined in their anger at the way the shoot was going.

  Anger at Gordon and Sebastian. But also anger at her.

  Like there was anything she could do about it. She wasn’t the director of the video or the manager of the band. Besides, this is what it took, right? They were so close to breaking into the next level. Sebastian had made his share of international superstars; he knew what they needed to do.

  But sometimes she wished for simpler days when they’d load up Mick’s van with their equipment and drive all night to a gig. When her costumes mostly came from Goodwill and she did her own makeup. It wasn’t making them any money, but it had been … fun. They’d been a group, a team, making music and sharing in the highs and lows that came from trying to succeed as artists.

  She sighed and handed the mug back to Gabbi, then gathered her waist-length hair into both hands and pulled it over her shoulder. It stuck together in wet clumps, gummy with salt and sand while water dripped from her drenched costume onto her bare feet. “How are we going to start over when I look like this?”

  Sebastian exchanged a look with Gordon and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll do a couple of shots to make them happy, but the beach scenes were always just going to be you.”

  “Yeah.” Gordon tugged at his beard. “We’ll put them in the back and do a couple of run-throughs, but we’ll probably end up cutting them out in post anyway.”

  Kynley bit back her annoyance. More time lost and more money wasted. Not to mention she’d be cold and wet for hours all for nothing.

  “This is how it goes,” Sebastian said, sensing her hesitation. “Trust me, they’ll thank us when we get the contract.”

  “Okay, but I need a few minutes.” Without waiting for an answer, she started across the beach toward her trailer with Gabbi at her side.

  “Seriously?” Gabbi said when the entered the trailer. She shut the door behind her with a bang. “Why can’t they tell the band the truth and let them deal? They’re big boys.” She began rattling through her hundreds of trays of makeup and other beauty supplies. “Besides, I don’t see why we have to do this in Oregon anyway. Yes, I get the rocks, but there are rocks in Belize too, aren’t there?”

  Kynley refilled her mug with water from the electric kettle with a laugh. For all her bluster, Gabbi was a wispy little twenty-something, standing barely above five feet tall. Even in bare feet, Kynley towered over her by several inches.

  “I can’t really blame Leeson though,” she said, taking a seat in the hydraulic chair in the middle of the room. “The video is supposed to be about the band, not just me.”

  “Yeah, but you’re the face of Jilted Storm and everyone knows it.” Gabbi grabbed a comb and began working it gently through the tangled mess of Kynley’s hair.

  Finding Gabbi during the band’s third year had been one of their biggest blessings to date. Aside from giving Kynley some female company, Gabbi was largely responsible for Kynley’s look and had transformed her from generic lead vocalist to distinctive rocker. She’d dyed Kynley’s naturally dark brown hair to an ombré pattern, the long strands transitioning gradually from crow black at the roots to pale silver at the ends. She used thick eyeliner and long false eyelashes to make Kynley’s large, gray eyes even larger, and amped up the semi-goth look with either maroon or lavender lipstick. Artfully applied contouring powder made Kynley’s pale skin even paler and brought out her high cheekbones.

  Gabbi had also transformed Kynley’s stage costumes, taking her from baggy cargo pants and tank tops to a cross between Victorian gothic and biker chick, pairing corsets with leather pants or long ruffled skirts with shredded T-shirts. The look was topped off with high heels and plenty of dangling jewelry.

  There was no question her look was a vital part of the band’s success, but sometimes when she was all made up and wearing her latest costume, Kynley had a hard time believing it was really her in the mirror. Where had the girl with the braces and the overalls gone? The girl who did chores on the farm every night with her dad and wore a frayed plaid jacket and rubber boots to feed the chickens? Sometimes it was like she was losing a sense of herself.

  There was a brisk knock on the door of the trailer and Sebastian stepped inside.

  “Your earpiece is fixed; be ready to go in ten minutes,” he said, casting a critical eye at Kynley’s wet hair.

  “What about the guys? They’ll need makeup,” Gabbi pointed out.

  “You heard Gordon, they’ll be cut in post. We’re already wasting time with the reshoot. I’m not blowing any more for makeup.”

  “Okay, you’re the boss,” Gabbi answered, a bit stiffly. She didn’t like Sebastian, but made an effort to be professional.

  Sebastian gave her a curt nod; obviously the dislike was mutual. “Let’s see the costume,” he ordered.

  Kynley shrugged out of the robe and stood up, her wet clothes dripping on the floor, while Sebastian gave her the once-over. She wore a ruffled black skirt that reached just below her knees in the front and dropped to mid-calf in the back and had a wide waistband looped with chains. Her white silk blouse had a deep V-neck and full sleeves, rather like a pirate’s shirt, and she had a long black vest over the top. Silver chains of varying lengths, some with pendants, were draped around her neck, and silver bangles stacked on her right wrist.

  “I think we should lose the vest,” Sebastian said bluntly. “Just the white shirt.”

  “But when it gets wet, then …” Kynley trailed off. The look in Sebastian’s eyes said he knew exactly what happened to white fabric when it got wet; that was the point.

  “I’m not doing that,” she declared.

  Fire flashed through his pale blue eyes and Kynley knew what was coming—a reminder that he’d launched plenty of big stars and didn’t need her second-guessing him.

  “We’ll put a camisole under it,” Gabbi said quickly, heading off the lecture.

  The corner of Sebastian’s mouth quirked and he turned to leave the trailer. “Make sure it’s a white camisole,” he called over his shoulder.

  The door thumped shut behind him and Kynley rolled her eyes. “I swear, if he didn’t know it’d get us kicked off YouTube, he’d probably ask me to go out there naked.”

  She meant it as a joke, but from the worried frown on Gabbi’s face, she knew it probably wasn’t far from the mark.

  “Forget the camisole, I’ve got something else,” Gabbi said decisively as Kynley shrugged out of her black vest. Gabbi pulled a couple of flesh-colored adhesive bra cups from a drawer in her arsenal. She pushed t
he white shirt out of the way to apply them to Kynley’s skin, then repositioned the shirt and stepped back to survey the result. “There,” she said in satisfaction. “They’ll stay on in the water and it’ll look like you’re showing skin, without actually showing it.”

  “Thanks.” Relief washed over Kynley. Compared to many performers, her costumes were quite modest, with only the occasional bare shoulders or short skirt. Jilted Storm had made their reputation on their music, but Sebastian seemed to think the music was secondary to pushing the sexuality … her sexuality.

  She gave her fluffy robe a longing pat, then squared her shoulders. “I’d better get back out there. At least we only have to get through today and then we get a few days off. I can’t wait.”

  The break had been a source of contention with Sebastian. When Kynley had received the invitation, she’d insisted the final show of the tour be delayed. Now, instead of going home to Los Angeles and then to the concert in Denver with the rest of the band, she was headed to Asheville, North Carolina. There was no way she’d miss her friend Erin’s wedding.

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