Musician's Monsoon Page 7

  He knew she would do fine. She’d played wonderfully at sound check, and he wasn’t worried about the band. Even if she sucked in the stage presence department, the rest of the members could compensate.

  It made him analyze his nerves a little more, look at the situation a little closer, and as he did, he realized it wasn’t adrenaline from fear he was feeling. It was excitement. He wasn’t afraid that Sophie wasn’t going to do a good job. He was excited because he got to share his world with her, his life. They were going to perform together, perform songs he had composed. It was a sharing of his heart, and it seemed so intimate to him.

  As the lights came up and the opening guitar riff of their first song played, Zane’s heart lurched for one suffocating second before the rest of the band launched into it. The crowd screamed, and Zane glanced over at Sophie. She was situated on the far side of the stage, and he could tell she was playing because he could hear the bass line. Other than that, she may as well have been a statue. He could barely see her fingers moving.

  He smiled to himself, and his heart went out to her for a moment. This had to be the last thing she really wanted to be doing. She was a teacher, not a performer. She was only doing this to help him out of a jam. He felt badly for forcing her into it. At least she was playing correctly, and she was no longer in that freakish outfit. No doubt that wouldn’t have helped her feel comfortable.

  Tearing his gaze away from Sophie and doing his best not to think about that kiss they had shared in the dressing room, Zane turned his attention back to his keyboards and lost himself in his music and in his nightly routine.

  * * * *

  What am I doing here? Oh, right. Attempting not to crap my pants.

  Sophie tried to block out the sound of the crowd while she concentrated on where her fingers were going.

  Just play the bass… Play the bass. Half a song down. A hundred thousand more to go.

  That’s about how it felt. It was like time had slowed down. Either that or she had somehow managed to cross into another dimension and was living in both of them simultaneously. Because she felt like she was outside of her body watching what was going on.

  And holy cow, did she ever suck.

  The music was all right. She wasn’t having trouble with that. But she felt like a cigar-store Indian, and she knew she had about as much personality as one. Something needed to be done about this. She couldn’t play the entire show this way. Not only would people start to wonder if she was actually capable of movement, but she’d be walking like the Tin Man afterward because all her joints would have locked up.

  After the first song was over, Rhonda greeted the audience with enthusiasm and was met with roaring screams and applause in response. Sophie forced herself to stand up straight, to shift positions a bit. Her back was already angry at her. She glanced over at Zane, who was looking back at her as if to ask her the silent question, Are you going to die? That’s probably what she looked like. Eyes bulging like the deer about to bounce up and over somebody’s Ford Taurus. And yes, the vision really was that detailed that she knew what kind of car it was.

  She glanced at all of the other band members. With the exception of Rhonda, who was still talking to the audience, they were all looking at her with the same expression. Like they feared she was going to bolt and they were all going to have to make a mad dash to block the exit doors.

  She took a small peek at the crowd, and her stomach dropped down to the South Pole. Her heart started to beat way too fast, and her head spun in a dizzying manner that made her feel somewhat nauseous. Get a grip, Sophie. This is not the first time you have ever been on stage.

  No, she argued with herself. But this is the first time you’ve ever played the bass guitar as a stand-in for your favorite band…after making out with the keyboard player, AKA your idol!

  Her stomach plummeted again and she looked around somewhat wildly until her gaze met and held Matt’s. He raised an eyebrow in question, and she yanked the guitar off as she all but ran off the side of the stage to the wings.

  Matt followed, looking somewhat panicked. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”

  “I need something strong, ASAP.”

  He frowned. “Something strong?”

  “Yeah! Whiskey! Vodka! Friggin’ Wild Turkey! I don’t care what it is! You’re a rock star. I know you guys have to have something handy!” The drum tech handed her a bottle of Southern Comfort and muttered something about how Wild Turkey was whiskey. She ignored him, sighed in relief and unscrewed the top. “Thank goodness. Now I know why you people all drink so much.” She chugged back about a shot’s worth and the fiery, much-too-sweet liquid burned a path down her asphyxiating throat and into her gyrating stomach.

  Matt chuckled. “Liquid courage at its finest.”

  She downed one more slug and made a face, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I don’t need courage. I need a psychiatrist. This is insane.” She handed the bottle back to the drum tech and expelled a forceful breath.

  “Better? Do you need me to get Zane?”

  Why did everyone keep asking her that? “No, I do not need you to get Zane. I am a grown woman. I don’t need a daddy or a bodyguard. I just needed a couple shots of something to kill the dancing gnome in my stomach.” She squared her shoulders. “All right.” She slipped the bass back on and faced the stage.

  “You good?” he queried.

  She gave a curt nod and tromped back out, determined to see the job through.

  Zane and Rhonda looked slightly petrified when she glanced at them upon her return. Zane started toward her, but she held up her hand as she took her position.

  Rhonda hurried over to her and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay, sister?” she whispered in her ear.

  Sophie nodded. “Better now. I needed a tiny me moment.”

  “You good to go on?”

  She set her jaw and lifted her chin. “Let’s do this thing.” She strummed the strings on the bass to check the pitch, which drew random screaming from audience members.

  Rhonda smiled and turned back to the crowd, keeping her arm around Sophie. She lifted the mike she held in her other hand. “All right, everybody, how about a little bit of action?” Screaming. “Maybe a little bit of pile-driving?” More screaming.

  Sophie couldn’t help but smile as the band, herself included, launched into one of their most famous songs, “Pile-driver.” It was the first song she had heard from Shadows Rising, the one that had hooked her, and it made her chuckle because now it reminded her of what Lorraine had done to poor Zane only two nights ago.

  As the last forty-eight hours replayed themselves through her mind at whirlwind speed and mixed with the alcohol tingling its way through her veins, complete joy began to chase out the feelings of all-consuming terror she had just been feeling.

  Look where you are right now! You’re playing bass for Shadows Rising! You’re playing on stage with Zane Blake! You are part of Shadows Rising right now!

  She grinned as the jubilation took over, and she found the upper half of her body moving in time to the beat of the song. Not only that, but her legs had somehow managed to spread themselves into a power stance.

  She closed her eyes and listened to the familiar song. She never would have thought all those years ago that she would one day be playing on stage in San Diego the exact same song that had first introduced her to metal, to Shadows Rising, to Zane and his amazing talent. What had happened to her life in the past two days?

  A whole lot of stuff that you shouldn’t take for granted.

  Wasn’t that the truth? So many people would be so envious of where she had managed to end up right now. She needed to soak up this moment, and cherish it. Something like it may never come again.

  As she returned from her meandering thoughts and the song winded to a close, she realized she was standing at the edge of the stage and her limbs felt loose and fluid, no longer stiff and awkward. She played the last few measures with ease, and the
fans directly in front of her shouted, screamed, and reached out to her. On impulse, she leaned down to touch all of their hands. Something strange like electricity coursed through her veins. It was exhilarating. It was addictive.

  As she moved back to where she had originally been standing, she stole a look up at Zane. The grin he shot her made her whole world explode like a fireworks display.

  And in that moment, she realized, it wasn’t the alcohol and the drugs and the fast living that was addictive, which was what she had always assumed before of people who did this as a job. It was this. This experience. This rush. Knowing you were the reason those four girls in the front row were screaming. Knowing you were so good at your craft that people wanted to learn your parts of the songs. This was the addictive thing. And once bitten, how did you ever get it out of your system?

  She looked over at Zane again and, as she did so, he winked and blew her a kiss. Her heart tumbled around in her chest. Once bitten—or kissed—how did she get him out of her system?

  Chapter Eight

  Sophie sighed in bliss as she leaned back in the enormous tub in the master bathroom of her hotel suite. She was both exhausted and exhilarated and found the combination a strange kind of intoxicating.

  She still had a little of that weird, out-of-body thing going on. Part of her couldn’t believe that only an hour before she had finished up playing a concert with Shadows Rising. But she had. And when Rhonda had introduced all the band members, and had announced her like she had always been part of it all, and when the crowd had cheered, something odd had happened inside of her. She’d liked it. A lot.

  Safe, subdued, rational Sophie had totally gotten off on the rush of recognition. She had about as much of an idea about what to do with that as she did about what to do with Zane.

  She liked him much more than was healthy. She knew that, yet she didn’t care. She liked liking him. She liked being with him. She really liked kissing him. He was gentle and caring, thoughtful, but playful enough to make her lighten up a bit. Had she always been so serious? She’d never realized it before. In her quest to be the “responsible one” in her family, had she sacrificed all ability to let loose and have a good time? If so, no wonder Lorraine had always called her boring. That was boring. What good was she to anyone if all they ever saw of her was this staunch, predictable person who never ventured outside of her safe routine—except, of course, when she was by herself in her living room jamming away on a bass like a rock star?

  Maybe Zane was right. Maybe she had been only been surviving her life. Tonight, on that stage, she had felt more alive than she ever had. Had she wasted thirty years being “safe”?

  A knock sounded on her hotel room door and she jumped in surprise. “Just a second!” she called. She climbed out of the tub, toweled off and slipped into the white hotel robe. She went to the door and opened it to see Zane standing there with two plastic bags and his gorgeous grin. She arched an eyebrow and glanced at the clock on the wall. The show had ended at eleven. It was now well past twelve-thirty.

  “I know it’s late,” he said, “but that’s kind of the way it goes around here. Rock musicians are mainly nocturnal. At any rate, I want to conduct an experiment.”

  Her raised eyebrow arched even higher. “That sounds ominous.”

  He chuckled, and warmth filled his eyes as he gazed at her robe-clad, wet-haired form. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. Can I come in?”

  Like she would actually deny him. She stepped aside, allowing him entry.

  “Have you eaten anything yet?”

  She shook her head as she closed the door. “That was next on my agenda after I got the stage sweat and cigarette smoke off my body.”

  He held up one of the bags. “Well, I got us some Chinese at this place that is apparently open till midnight, which was awesome.” He held up the other bag. “And then I had to try and decide if you would rather have wine or beer. I figured wine would be more romantic and all, but then I remembered how you said you like to go home and knock back a couple of brewskies.”

  She grinned. “I’m definitely more of a beer girl.”

  “Do you like football too?” he teased.

  “Of course I do.” She eyeballed him in similar mischievous fashion. “You’re not a Raiders fan, are you?”

  He looked at her like she was nuts. “Uh, no, I live in Arizona. I’m a Cardinals fan.”

  She laughed. “All right, good. My experiment is finished. You passed. Now, onto yours. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’m going to go put on some clothes.”

  “Or you could just wear that.”

  “I’m naked under here.”

  He fixed her with a smoldering look. “All the more reason. We could conduct another experiment…”

  She shot him a playful scowl and practically ran out of the room before she took him up on his unspoken offer. He was incorrigible, and he made her want to act rebellious. That was another thing she totally didn’t know what to do with. Apparently, she had a whole other person living inside of her that she had repressed all of these years. That person liked to try and surface when Zane was around.

  Rhonda had loaned her some of her clothing, thank goodness, but she still needed to hit a Wal-Mart or something tomorrow. She could deal with the black tank top and gray track pants to sleep in, but lord only knew what Rhonda would try to stick her in for the show tomorrow night if she didn’t get herself a couple of outfits of her own. And she seriously needed some underwear. She’d only brought two pairs, and as it was, she’d had to wash out the ones she’d worn tonight in the bathroom sink.

  After donning her sleepwear, she headed back out into the living room area where Zane had already unloaded all of the food. He was sitting on the floor at the coffee table, and the vision made her smile. For some reason, she could picture this being a nightly routine for her. She loved takeout, so she couldn’t see herself getting tired of eating it, and her body and mind would adapt to a night schedule just like if she was working graveyard. So she wouldn’t have to worry about gaining four hundred pounds from eating so late.

  It would be nice to unwind with Zane every evening. Talk about the high and low points of the show, the crowd, the funny things that happened backstage. They could eat and laugh, make out, enjoy one another in companionable silence…

  What am I thinking? She mentally slapped herself and told herself to get a grip. Why was she planning this out in some kind of long-term existence? She had one more show to play with the band, and then she would be back in Flagstaff and back to her own life. She was filling in to help out until the guitar tech got well enough to play. They weren’t considering her for the next great bass player of Shadows Rising. That was ridiculous. Besides, she didn’t want that anyway. She wanted to go back home to her routine and the stable life she had built for herself.

  But even as she reprimanded her straying thoughts, her heart felt heavy at the knowledge that, after tomorrow, it was all over.

  * * * *

  As Sophie came out in her loaned PJs, makeup free, her hair damp from the bath she’d taken, Zane’s heart leapt in a way he hadn’t experienced since he’d been a teenager. It all looked so natural, everything—the food and the beer, her coming out in her pajamas to eat and talk with him after a long day. It was everything he had come to realize he craved.

  A slice of normal life in the midst of all the chaos. Someone to unwind and share with after all the insanity of the shows.

  It was her. It had to be her. She was the only person who had ever made him feel like everything worked. She fit. She balanced him in a way he had never expected. She was the missing piece.

  He held his arms out to her as she sat down next to him, and she smiled as she snuggled against him. He held her and closed his eyes with a sigh.

  “So, what’s this experiment anyway?” she asked.

  He pulled away enough to look down into her eyes. He brushed a wet strand of hair off her forehead and smiled. “It’s done already. I alr
eady know the answer.”

  She frowned. “And that is?”

  “You.” He captured her lips with his, his body and heart aching for her, and aching at the knowledge that she would leave him in a little over twenty-four hours.

  She laughed softly as she pulled away. “You certainly have a way with words, Zane Blake.”

  He grinned and they turned to their dinner, lapsing into conversation that spanned a wide array of subjects. They laughed, shared stories of their lives and their past, cuddled, kissed. It was the most perfect moment Zane had ever experienced. He saw his future in it, and in Sophie’s eyes. All he had to do was find a way to make it all work out, and make her realize it was what she wanted, too.

  Although, part of him figured she knew already. She just had to admit it to herself.

  Chapter Nine

  Sophie sighed as the taxi dropped her off in front of her house. She felt like she’d been traveling forever, considering she’d had to fly from Los Angeles to Phoenix and then have a cab drive her to Flagstaff. Her bank account was a little bit fatter, since she’d actually been paid by the Shadows Rising business manager for her stand-in routine, and she had more luggage than when she had first arrived in Tempe, but she felt bedraggled and empty.

  Her two-bedroom, two-bath house looked lonely for the first time ever. It was strange and, in all reality, kind of annoying. Her home had always been a place of solace and refuge. Now, because she’d spent four days with a rock star and his posse, it seemed lacking? What was up with that? Her whole life had been thrown out of balance.

  The part that sucked the most was that, try as she might to be annoyed by the whole ordeal, she wasn’t. She was sad. Sad to leave Zane and sad to leave the whole experience. So, she was manifesting it in annoyance so she could try and fool herself. Except, it wasn’t working.