Darkstone

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  A slender woman approached, one with long blond hair and blue eyes. She was gorgeous in that Southern California-girl way. She wore tight designer jeans and a long sleeve Invocation T-shirt, but otherwise didn’t look like any of the metal-head audience that had gathered for tonight’s concert. When she crouched in front of Naomi’s and Rebecca’s seats, Naomi recognized her from the week before. She’d been backstage with the band at the Indigo.

  “Rebecca Vance and Naomi Kostopoulos?”

  “That’s us.” Rebecca leaned forward.

  The woman held out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Chloe Armstrong.” She shook Naomi’s hand as well. “Are you ready to go backstage or do you want to see the rest of the show?”

  Anxiety flooded Naomi at the realization she’d be facing Joram Darkstone again. Silly. This is why you came, whether you admit it or not. She realized both women were waiting for her decision. Rebecca had said nothing but disparaging things about the headline band, but she’d remain if Naomi wanted to see them. Nathan always insists on taking the offensive. She gathered the shreds of her previous excitement. “Let’s go!”

  Rebecca grinned, standing as Chloe did the same.

  The man seated beside Naomi snagged Chloe’s sleeve. “What about me, sugar? Can I get backstage too? I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Chloe’s welcome demeanor flashed to revulsion, and she pulled her arm away. “I doubt it.”

  As she led Naomi and Rebecca away, he yelled after her, “Hey, bitch! Suck my dick!”

  With a sweet smile, Chloe called back, “I choke on small bones, asshole.”

  Naomi snuck a glance back to see the man’s complexion turning red with anger. He made an effort to stand up, his buddy beside him shoving him back into his seat. A heated exchange took place between them, interrupted by three burly men with Venue Security blazoned on their backs blocking Naomi’s view. She shared an amused and astounded look with Rebecca, trying not to giggle. Apparently, Chloe Armstrong was a force to be reckoned with despite her fresh-faced demeanor.

  Chloe whisked them through a side door, past two more strapping security guards. Naomi wondered if it was a requirement for them all to be three hundred pounds of muscle. Surely there were men and women who didn’t meet such physical criteria in this sort of career. She eyed one of the men in consideration, knowing she could take him out with such speed and strength that he’d never know what had hit him.

  She dropped that line of thought, distracted by the flurry of activity around her. ClubPixel’s backstage area was much more active than the Indigo’s had been. She reminded herself that Invocation had been the final band to perform last week. Right now, the roadies were swiftly pulling Invocation’s gear aside and replacing it with the next band’s. Then the women were past the havoc and into a lighted hallway.

  Chloe led them down an industrial-looking stairwell and into a larger room of tables and chairs. A catered buffet ran along one wall, and a number of people had availed themselves of the food. Naomi wondered who they were. The roadies were easy to pick out—each had a lanyard and badge around their neck similar to the one she and Rebecca had been given. A handful of young women had different style badges and were dressed in various skimpy outfits. Where they wives and girlfriends? Some of them seemed so young, she doubted they were much beyond fifteen years of age.

  Puzzled, she followed Chloe past the piecemeal cafeteria, wondering why a couple of the girls gave her and Rebecca calculating looks. Rebecca hadn’t seemed to notice them at all. “The girls back there,” Naomi said, “who are they?”

  “Groupies.” Chloe’s answer was offhand, indicating to Naomi that the cluster of girls was a normal occurrence. “A couple of them were invited by Jarod and Rand. The others are here for the Bombay Rubies,” she added, naming the second band performing tonight.

  Naomi blinked. She’d thought groupies only existed in movies and books. Rebecca smiled, eyes twinkling at Naomi’s culture shock. After six years living in California it didn’t happen as often, but Rebecca always loved seeing her flummoxed. With an amused grimace, she poked Rebecca in the ribs before raising her nose into the air. She grinned at the gurgle of laughter beside her.

  Past the groupies, through another corridor and down second short flight of steps was a set of double doors. Even here people ran errands—carrying and packing up gear, rolling large crates back and forth. One or two lolled about on the equipment. Chloe smacked one man’s knee as she passed. “No smoking, Frank.”

  Frank scowled, rubbing his kneecap. “Everybody else does.” Regardless of his complaint, he dropped the cigarette onto the concrete and crushed it beneath his boot. Naomi heard his grumbling but was unable to catch the words as Chloe led them to a large doorway, ignoring the roadie’s complaint.

  The set of double doors had been propped open, and Naomi entered controlled pandemonium. A celebration had begun inside, much like the one from last week. The room was larger than that at Indigo, and the extra space had been utilized well. Three times the number of people were in attendance tonight, a mass of humanity riding the exhilarating high of the concert.

  Chloe turned around, smiling. “Just stick close. Do you want a beer?”

  Bouncing restlessly on her toes, Rebecca said yes as Naomi looked askance at the crowd. She gave a tentative nod, and Chloe waved them toward her as she walked into the pandemonium. Music played overhead. Naomi couldn’t tell if it was the headlining band on stage or if a sound system had been installed in the room. She guessed it didn’t matter since she hardly heard the instruments over the cacophony of voices as people around her laughed and talked to one another. At the back of the room, Chloe stopped to deposit a beer in each of their hands. Then, hooking her arm through Naomi’s, she guided them to one corner.

  The crowd parted until Naomi caught a glimpse of Joram seated on a couch, surrounded by a handful of people. Her heart leapt in her chest, and she felt the tingle of blood flushing up from her neck and into her cheeks. When Joram’s eyes caught hers, Naomi saw that spark of light again. What is that? A sense of homecoming caused her knees to tremble.

  Joram smiled brilliantly as she stood. “You made it!” She turned and chivvied those sitting on the couch aside, making room for her guests. “Come on, have a seat.”

  Naomi allowed herself to be directed past the others and to the available seating. It was a tight fit. As she sat with her thigh pressed hard against Joram’s she warred with the ambivalent feelings coursing through her. Comfort and familiarity fought against the apprehension beating strong wings against her rib cage. This wasn’t right; she didn’t have time for such things. This was the most perfect thing in the world; there was no place else she wanted to be. Both sentiments couldn’t be accurate, and the opposing viewpoints briefly overloaded her ability to react.

  “What did you think?”

  With the disconnect in Naomi’s emotions, she drew a blank, simply staring at Joram. Rebecca jumped in to answer the question, faint amusement in her smile. Only when Joram’s sea-green eyes looked away did Naomi realize that Joram had asked a question.

  “Fantastic! I love that new song, by the way.” Rebecca laughed. “The band is going to the top with that one.”

  “Thanks.” Joram’s head swiveled, capturing Naomi’s gaze once more. “What about you?”

  Her emotional balance back in place, Naomi ignored the flutter in her chest as she smiled. “I think she’s right. I don’t know much about this style of music, but that particular song is very catchy. It will be one of your best.”

  Joram’s grin widened. “Ah, a irie foretelling. Maad!”

  Naomi blinked, wondering if she’d heard correctly. She’d only understood one word of that sentence. Was that because Joram’s presence so unsettled her? She glanced at Rebecca, panic rattling her rib cage.

  Rebecca blankly stared back. A startled laugh escaped her. “What?”

  Joram looked back and forth between them and then around at the others gathered around her
, mystified.

  Chloe came to the rescue, mischievousness quirking the corners of her lips. “You’ll have to excuse the Jamaican. She forgets that not everyone understands when she slips into the ‘patwah.’”

  Relief flowed through Naomi, easing her tension as she realized she wasn’t at fault for not comprehending. The look on Joram’s face was a priceless mixture of umbrage and abashment. Unable to help herself, she patted Joram’s thigh. “I understand. When I try to directly translate something from my language to English, it all comes out wrong.” With difficulty she removed her hand before it became too comfortable. Her heart spasmed as Joram gazed into her eyes, the faint smile of thanks distracting Naomi’s focus. She licked her lips, imagining what kissing Joram Darkstone would taste like.

  “I said, ‘a good foretelling.’ And ‘maad’ means awesome.”

  Joram’s voice was low, the gravelly texture brushing across Naomi’s ears. The tones made it difficult for her to remember she was in a crowded room of people. A sense of desperate longing washed through her as the memories of the monastery rushed to the fore. Long nights laying in the dark and listening to this same voice tease and laugh with her, the urgent desire to reach out and touch the girl behind the voice, to caress and hold her tight.

  “Hey, Joram. Want another beer?”

  Naomi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as the moment broke. Joram turned away, and Naomi stared at her profile while she answered whoever had interrupted. Joram had one of those noses that turned up, though not obnoxiously so. Her bangs hung into her eyes, moving with every flutter of her eyelashes. It took everything in Naomi to not reach out and brush the hair away.

  Movement beyond Joram caused her to shift her gaze. Rebecca stared back at her, one eyebrow raised in elegant amusement. Blushing, Naomi turned away, forcing herself to pay attention to the people surrounding her. This was a mistake! Despite her desire to jump up and flee, she remained seated, soaking in the warmth from Joram’s thigh against hers, gathering in the sound of her voice as she carried on her conversations with the others, enjoying the presence she’d pined for since that first dream on a saddle between two mountain peaks. Mistake or not, she couldn’t run from the friendship she’d been missing all these years.

  * * *

  Joram couldn’t believe how quickly time passed. One moment she’d welcomed Naomi, crowding her onto the couch for thoroughly prurient reasons. The next carried word that the headliner band had completed their set. Two hours in an instant. The news resulted in a thinning of attendees as many partygoers left to navigate the maze of corridors, intent on crashing the Bombay Rubies’ dressing room. It also triggered Ivan’s inevitable arrival.

  “All right, gang!” He clapped his hands to garner everyone’s attention. “The gear is packed and we’re ready to roll.”

  Dismay stabbed Joram’s heart, her gaze flickering to Naomi beside her. Her thoughts stumbled over each other as she tried to find a logical reason to prolong the evening. It’s too soon. I just found her again! The thought startled her. Again?

  Naomi shifted on the couch, leaning forward to set her beer bottle on the table next to Joram’s booted feet. She cast Rebecca a glance, and her roommate nodded and stood.

  Joram hastily dropped her feet to the floor and joined them, heart thumping as she bumped shoulders with Naomi. At Naomi’s giggle, she grinned. “You have a nice laugh.”

  The skin of Naomi’s face reddened. She almost looked away—Joram saw the coquettish urge as her bedroom eyes wavered the briefest of seconds. Then Naomi’s smile firmed and she tilted her head. “And you have a beautiful voice.”

  The world receded as Joram focused her full attention on her guest. It had happened with disturbing regularity tonight. She wished everyone would go away and leave Naomi alone with her.

  Chloe’s voice cut through her sensual fugue. “Okay, people. Time to hit the road!”

  Joram’s head jerked around. Chloe grinned with impudence. Though her gaze narrowed, Joram didn’t argue. Beyond Chloe she saw their guests filtering out of the room, chattering. Jubal was already gone and it looked like Jarod had picked up a little eye candy for the night.

  “We should go. I have a paper due next week.”

  Heart sinking, Joram turned to Naomi. “Are you sure? There’s a party at my place tonight. You know, to celebrate.” Her tone lowered and she leaned closer. “I’d love to have you.” She watched Naomi’s blush spread across her cheeks.

  Once more Naomi almost looked away but changed her mind at the last minute. She slowly licked her lips, eyes hooded. Joram’s blood heated, and she swallowed against a rush of arousal, very much wanting to taste that tongue, to determine if it was as talented as she hoped. Naomi leaned in and Joram tilted her face closer. “Are you trying to take advantage of me, Joram Darkstone?”

  Her full name rolling off that tongue, the exotic accent and Naomi’s breath brushing her face did nothing to cool Joram’s ardor. “If you’ll let me.”

  A devilish glint sparkled in the depths of Naomi’s sultry eyes. She opened her glorious mouth. “No.”

  Joram blinked. She pulled back, staring at Naomi, panicked that she’d offended her, moved too fast. Her gaze was met by a knowing grin. Oh, she’s a tease, she is. A wry smile crossed her face. “Maybe next time?”

  “Maybe.” Naomi affected disinterest as she looked away, but the upturn at the corner of her mouth showed her true feelings.

  There were too many women in the world, a sea of fish that would be easier to catch than this one. Other woman had played hard to get with Joram over the years. They’d been sent packing. Life was too short and violent for Joram to waste time with silly little games.

  But Naomi intrigued her no end.

  Joram’s mind kicked back into gear as she mentally considered her schedule in the coming weeks. Rehearsals and jam sessions filled her days, sound checks and at least three gigs in various venues throughout Los Angeles were planned. Fridays and Saturdays were prime nights for her career, and for the first time she rued not having them free. “Can I see you next Tuesday?”

  Naomi shot her a look, expressive eyes wide. “What?”

  Rebecca snorted in humor. “I think she’s asking you out, Naomi. You remember what a date is, right?”

  Joram gifted Rebecca with a grin of thanks, returning her attention to Naomi to surprise a poisonous glare directed at Rebecca. The expression quickly disappeared, and Joram wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. “Exactly. I’d like to take you out to dinner.” Preferably with breakfast following.

  “I don’t know…” Naomi nibbled her lower lip, once more looking away at the rapidly emptying room.

  “Please.” Joram touched Naomi’s upper arm, drawing her back to the conversation. “I’d love to hear more about your education. Anthropology has always interested me.” Naomi’s eyebrow rose in question at that blatant lie, but Joram didn’t break her earnest expression. “I never realized that the discipline could actually be broken down into various sociological segments. Spirituality has always interested me. I’d like to continue our discussion on it.”

  Silence filled the immediate area, and Joram glanced up to find Chloe, Ivan and Bayani staring at her with various expressions of dismay. Everyone else still in the room was out of hearing. She counted herself lucky Rand was gone. If anyone would publicly call her out for such bullshit, it would be Rand. Flushing, Joram hastily focused back on Naomi, hoping their reactions didn’t ruin this for her.

  Fortunately, Naomi didn’t pay attention to the others. Instead, she studied Joram, a faint wrinkle appearing between her eyes as she considered. After a hesitant glance at her roommate hovering at Joram’s opposite elbow, she offered her hand. “Of course.”

  Relief flooded through Joram. She almost whooped at the release. The urge to joyfully celebrate was as strong as the one that wanted to collapse into a ball of quivering nerves onto the couch. Taking Naomi’s hand, she said, “Around seven?”

  Naomi nodded, a shy
smile on her lips.

  Joram held Naomi’s hand with both of hers until Rebecca cleared her throat. Naomi blinked in surprise, jerking her hand away just as Joram realized they’d remained that way for too long. Rebecca, a disingenuous smile on her face, turned to Joram. “Since I doubt Naomi has the ability for speech at the moment, let me give you our address and phone number.”

  “Rebecca!”

  “Naomi!” Rebecca echoed, unrepentant.

  Joram was too aflutter at Naomi’s acceptance to respond to their banter. She fumbled in her pocket for her phone, quickly pulling up her contacts. With Rebecca hovering over her shoulder, she added Naomi’s information, trying not to let her hand shake too much. When she was done, she grinned. “Great! I’ll pick you up at seven on Tuesday then.”

  Appearing a little dazed, Naomi nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

  “See you then!” Joram repeated, internally cursing herself for sounding like an idiot. Her behavior didn’t appear to detract Naomi’s opinion, as evinced by the warm smile she received.

  It still took several minutes for Rebecca and Naomi to depart as they made their way through the remaining band members. Naomi was gracious in her thanks and Rebecca ebullient with her praise as they made their way to the door. The room dimmed as Naomi exited. Joram felt slightly deflated as she dropped back onto the couch.

  “Well, that was interesting.” Chloe circled the coffee table and curled up beside Joram, one arm on the back of the couch.

  Bayani chuckled. “Wasn’t it?”

  “Shut up.” Joram rolled her eyes at her tormentors.

  Chloe laughed. “I never knew you were such an academic.”

  Joram growled to herself. “You know I read widely. She’s got some interesting ideas about anthropology and ancient religions, that’s all.”

  Ivan scrubbed the back of his neck, a frown on his craggy face. “When has anthropology ever been interesting?”