He pushed me against the stage as we moved across, seeming to stay far away from the crowds as possible. I did not blame him one bit. A pair of panties landed in front of us, stopping me in my tracks.
What. The. Hell.
Should I be worried that Beck was in danger of being kidnapped by one of these randy mom squad members? Because, looking out at the women, very few were my age. Most looked to be in their late twenties, early thirties.
“Here.” He stopped me just off center where about five metal chairs was sitting, facing the stage. “These are for the press or security guards. Since we aren’t that big, we don’t ever have press, and only half the security guards. There are usually a few extra chairs between the whole line anyway, so you should be good.”
“Should, huh.” I was glad he was so confident.
“You’ll be fine,” He shouted over the music.
I nodded my head and fingered the buckle on my camera bag. “How long before you go on?”
He checked his phone and leaned close to my ear and shouted, “In about fifteen. I’ll just collect you at the end of the show and you can walk off with us.”
The music cut off before his last couple words, and he nearly busted my eardrums from his close proximity. Ouch.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here? Beckham White. And who is this pretty thing, hmm? Are you finally off the market?” A throaty, dry voice purred over the speakers.
This had to be a bad dream with all of the bad luck I had tonight. First getting caught by Jonah, now being called out at a concert. No Bueno.
Beck had pulled back just enough I could see all of his features in the magenta and neon blue glow of the ever-moving stage light. As we held eye contact, a decadent smile slowly crept across his face. That twinkle of mischief entered his eyes again, but I lost it as he twisted toward the stage.
“Red, you’re not really trying to break hearts tonight, are you?”
The front and center guy removed the mic from the stand and strutted over to us. He had blood red hair so deep, for a second I questioned if he had a head wound or not. But then it clicked. Red. Red head. With dark kohl lining his eyes, he looked like the epitome of jaded, emo rocker. His eyes were done so well, I contemplated asking for tips. It didn’t matter now though, Mother Dearest would kill me if she saw me like that.
“It’s not something I relish, but this isn’t your normal gig.” He waved a tatted hand in our direction.
“Then if you must know, yes. I’m now spoken for, and my girl here is about to have my love child. Since she’s now such an important part of my life, I figured she deserved a little special treatment for the show.” Beck wrapped a muscular arm around my shoulders and pressed so tight to my side, there wasn’t an inch of space between us.
He said love child. Please don’t let me have to go to the bathroom during the concert. These women would shred me for killing their fantasy.
Red’s eyes widened comically before his face morphed into a confused grin. He seemed to be mulling over if Beck was serious or not. He flicked his eyes to me, but I was blank faced. Whenever I was the center of attention or in an uncomfortable situation, I tended to freeze and my face lost all emotion.
“You heard this ladies. Beckham is no longer available for any late night romps going forward.” Red addressed the masses.
Groans and boos rose up through the crowd until I was afraid they were going to tsunami our asses where we stood.
“Finish your set, Red. My girl’s waiting to see me in action.”
“Fine, fine. Whatever you say.” He strolled back to the stand and placed the mic back in. “Tell your girl goodbye so you stop distracting my fans. They can’t enjoy my lyrical genius with your hot bod standing there.”
Beck chuckled and it was warm and delicious, sending a sinful shiver over my full body. He turned his head toward mine and I took the chance to smell him. He smelled amazingly like trouble.
“Be good, pretty girl.” He winked and leaned in slowly, giving me time to move. I didn’t know what I would move from until his lips touched mine in a soft caress. It was barely there, but boy had I noticed.
I touched my lips as he separated us. His eyes laughed at me as he backed up. “See you soon, babe. Grab lots of pictures for me to frame in our house.” The volume of his words carried over the crowd.
He turned away and retreated through the side door.
I can’t believe it. My first kiss. My first kiss was epic, and memorable, and a fucking joke.
Once he was out of sight the women behind me settled down. The band on stage started playing again, announcing it would be his last song. As soft, soothing tunes circled the room, I pulled the dented metal chair away from the fence, but still leaving room to see the stage.
Two big burly men ambled down the space, taking up standing positions facing the crowd on either side of the platform. Man, Beck and his band must be a big deal around here. If that was the case, what was he doing working as a mechanic? Surely he could make just as much doing this.
“That’s it for us folks! Thanks for coming out, and let’s send a giant fucking welcome to the Midnight Marionettes!” The band raised their guitars as they jogged off stage.
The small reprieve from the crazy, lust-ridden women was gone. Wolf whistles and screams almost deafened me. I bent around in my chair to get a look at the crowd and the lusty women pushing each other to get closer. I had never been this excited over anything in my life.
Yes, ladies, I know. Beck is like a chocolate drizzled lava cake, tempting you off the diet you didn’t want to be on anyway.
The energy from the crowd getting pumped over Beck’s band seeped into my own blood stream, pumping me up.
Another five minutes went by, then one of the guys ran out. It was either Rhett or Will. I hadn’t paid enough attention to them to really pick apart. Their matching outfits didn’t help either. Andrew was next, then the other band member. Each picked up their instruments, or in Andrew’s case, drum sticks, and started to play a generic beat. Or maybe this was the opening to one of their songs?
The screaming got louder and the women chanted ‘Beck’ over and over again. He really knew how to hype up a crowd and I was no exception. I stood and whistled with the best of them. A blue light circled the stage and I lifted the camera to my eyes. This was a moment I wanted to catch. The moment where Beck was onstage but the show hadn’t started. When their fans were on their tip toes, holding their breath and waiting to see what the first song of the night would be.
This time, I made sure the flash was off. The flash would take away from the vibe and that would ruin the beauty.
Beck jogged out with a devilish smirk and waved. Not a dorky wave, but a wave that said he was about to rock our world. Right as I snapped the picture, the spotlight landed on him. Perfect. I spun on my chair, taking a picture of the crowd. Sometimes, the audience was just as powerful as the performer. Because their enthusiasm made the show, and this was one I didn’t want to miss.
“How’s everybody doing tonight?” Beck’s molten voice whispered over the crowd. The collective sigh almost made me snicker. Almost. Because I sighed too.
Cheers erupted and feet stomped.
“The Midnight Marionettes want to thank you for coming out. We hope you’ll enjoy the show.” He picked up a bright blue guitar and pulled the strap over his head. He strummed a note without even missing a beat, in constant motion. As soon as that note sang, the rest of the band joined in.
The show was beautiful, poetic, and soul moving. I took so many pictures, of both the band and the crowd. I climbed in the chair and got all angles of the packed room. Sometimes it wasn’t about the performer, but how moved the crowd was. And something told me that Beck might appreciate some of these pictures, immortalizing his influence over so many that enjoyed his lovesick songs.
The next tune to come on was slow, and sensual, leaving no doubt that sex was on Beck’s mind when he wrote it. He prowled over, with his instr
ument slung over his back and crouched down, directly in front of me. His voice was sex and sin wrapping around me as he sang. I couldn’t keep the cheesy grin off my face when he winked. I wanted to remember this moment forever, so without bringing it to my face, I tipped my camera toward Beck and snapped a quick picture. I hoped with all of my snarky arty heart that it caught his expression.
The last song ended and the band left the stage, leaving every one of us bereft of their soul touching beauty. Unsure of what to do, I pushed past the security guard toward the exit. The music had shut off and the loud conversations seemed out of place. Like when you go skating and then you take the skates off, but your body keeps trying to roll around. That was what it felt like. I heard the remnants of the music and it was severely lacking.
Right before I ducked out from the main floor, a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks. That couldn’t be…
Standing at the end of the metal fence was Thatcher Reed, chatting with a few people. My heart turned into a kick drum on steroids as I stared at him. He looked the same as that day in the classroom with a grunge shirt and ripped jeans. Carelessly casual, and right at home in the throng of Beck’s adoring fans.
“Thatcher?” It slipped out before I could seal my stupid lips shut. I should have left already, but I must be a glutton for punishment. Especially since he was about two feet from me with no doubt he heard me.
He twisted his head to see who called his name. His lips parted in surprise as if this was last place he thought he’d see me. I was the innocent, cock-blocking schoolgirl. This was definitely the last place he’d see me, if not for Beck’s interference.
“Astrid? What are you doing here?” A smile bloomed on his face and flat out shocked me.
He was happy to see me? How odd.
Thatcher turned to face me fully, giving his back to the group he was with. One girl sneered at him before turning it to me. She was a keeper.
“To see the show. I assume the same for you?” I cringed. I sounded like a lame librarian.
He laughed under his breath as he leaned on the bar. “Yeah, you get any pictures?” He nodded to the camera clutched in my hands.
I grinned. Even without looking at them, I knew I had to have gotten some amazing shots. “Yes. I did.”
“Can I see?” Thatcher held out his hand expectantly.
Still on a high from the experience, I slid next to him and pulled the pictures up on the screen. The neon lighting created such an ethereal background with the smoke cutting in and out of the light. The first picture was Beck crouched down and I was ecstatic to see I captured him perfectly. He was a little off center, but nothing that wasn’t easily edited in photoshop. At least with a few Lynda.com tutorials. Beck looked like every broken heart he left in his wake was worth it. For the women, not for him. Although, he probably enjoyed the ride too.
Thatcher whistled and pushed his head so our cheeks were nearly touching.
“That’s something else. Maybe you don’t need my help after all.”
I turned my head and my breath caught with how close he was. Even in this cesspool of scents, he smelled good, like spicy sandalwood.
Clearing my throat, I looked back down to my camera. It was hard not to preen at his praise, but I managed. “I did do good, didn’t I?”
I clicked through the other pictures and he hemmed and hawed, letting me know which ones he liked best. He seemed to favor the same ones I did, and that boosted my confidence even more.
“You definitely have an artistic eye. Seriously, I’d love to help you. Even if it’s just to watch you grow as an artist.” His voice dipped, sending a shiver from my neck and blanketing my shoulders.
I wasn’t angry today, like I was at the end of our brief conversation before. Genuine interest filled his eyes and melted my resolve a little bit. A different perspective was never a bad thing.
“Astrid. I thought you would have come backstage already.” Beck poked his head out of the door with a wide grin on his face. He was definitely riding a high too, only a different kind.
I straightened and stepped away from Thatcher when Beck’s gaze switched to him.
“Thatcher, man. How’s it going?” He came out but still stuck close to the door.
I didn’t blame him. He’d get swarmed if too many people noticed him.
“Beck, great show as always.” They shook hands.
Luckily, most of the crowd had dispersed and no one seemed to notice Beck except for the group Thatcher was with. Two of the girls came up on either side of Thatcher, smiling seductively at Beck.
“That was awesome tonight, Beck.” The girl next to me spoke in a husky voice, pulling strands of honey blonde hair away from her face. Her perfume was sickly sweet and not in a good way.
My nose twitched, but I stayed in the same spot.
“Where are you going tonight? Want a buddy to join you?” The other girl giggled.
The urge to gag was strong, but that would have been immature and hanging out in an older crowd that was the last thing I wanted to be. Neither guy seemed to notice my struggle, of course.
“I can’t tonight ladies. I have a date already, right Astrid?” A dimple popped out as his gaze landed on me.
My cheeks flamed instantly and Thatcher’s head snapped my way. He totally hadn’t been expecting that. Even though Beck came out to get me, he still hadn’t expected it.
“Uh, yeah.” What was he thinking? I knew he was messing with me, but my awkwardness was reaching a new level with all of this attention.
He reached out and snagged my hand, pulling me close to him as he draped a heavy arm around my shoulders. He was sweaty and about twenty degrees warmer than where I was standing a second ago. Beck could double as a heat lamp and sell out faster than the mom club could swipe their credit cards.
Thatcher had an unreadable expression on his face as he studied me in all my gawky glory.
“You gonna be around tomorrow, Thatch? We can grab a beer or something while I work on your car. Didn’t you say it needed some maintenance done?” Beck said casually.
Thatcher’s gaze lingered on me for a few more seconds before he switched to Beck. “Yeah, that’d be great. I’m open all day tomorrow. I can meet you at your place around noon?”
“Sounds great. I’ll catch you later.” Beck stepped away to give Thatcher a man hug before turning to me. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” I was broken, only stringing together one or two words at a time.
The stage lights shut off, leaving the florescent lights to beat down on all of us. Beck waited for me to go in front of him but I stood there, staring at him. Awkwardly.
“Yo, jail bait. You ready or what?” Beck stepped closer.
“I told you to stop calling me that.” I snapped.
He laughed and put a hand to the small of my back. “Then let’s go.”
I looked over my shoulder as he lightly shoved me forward. Thatcher was watching us and waved when our gazes met. I sent him a pathetic half smile and then he was gone.
Beck led the way once we were in the hallway with an extra spring in his step. He was super riled from performing. It showed in the way he moved and how his eyes darted all over the place, taking in the moment as if he was never going to experience this type of fame again.
“How do you know Thatcher?” I caught up to him, but speed walking was not my thing. Almost immediately, I started to huff.
Beck slowed down when he looked at me. I don’t know what he saw, but my red face and heavy breathing was probably a clear sign that I couldn’t keep up. He hooked his arm around me again, but this time his hand landed on my hip.
Ho boy. His attitude was infectious and so was his free hugging. The casual way he touched me was a turn on I’d never experienced before. My poor body was about to erupt into flames, and he didn’t even know it. Or maybe he did. His smile brightened exponentially when the heat licked up my face and down my neck. Oh God. I bet I looked like a tomato got in a fight with the ketchup. And
not a sexy, blooded vampire fight. More like a toddler throwing their lunch away during a tantrum.
His touch was more frequent and personal now that the show was over. It was almost like he was more touchy feely when he was jazzed.
“He brings his car into Tacky’s for oil changes and small maintenance stuff. He’s a cool guy so we started hanging out, and now I do his stuff at my house. We can drink beer and shoot the shit while I take care of his car.” We passed the band room and I peeked in, then quickly averted my eyes.
“Beck, there’s a mini orgy going on in that room.” Will and Rhett were on the couch with two half naked girls on the laps, making out. The girls were making out.
He cackled and squeezed me tighter to him. “That happens.”
“You don’t have to take me home. Thatcher could have given me a ride.” I was talking out of my ass. I didn’t even know why I said that, I was just uncomfortable witnessing a scene like that with someone with me. Now if I was alone, it wouldn’t have bothered me. I would have even documented it.
Actually, strike that. I would have felt like I was making porn. I would only have taken artistic shots with no boobage.
“He likes you. Which is odd, I’ve never seen him with anyone before.” Beck opened the back door, shrugging off two more girls trying to get his attention.
“He definitely gets the girls.” I blurted. This whole night had me all scrambled, saying things I shouldn’t.
“That sounds like there’s a story behind it.” He trailed off expectantly as he opened the passenger door for me. I climbed in, hoping he’d forget about it as he walked around the car. He did not.
“Well, out with it.”
I sighed. Did I want to tell him this story? He knew Thatcher so he wasn’t some anonymous person who couldn’t put a face to the story. The light from the back floodlight twinkled in his eyes, begging me to share all my hidden secrets.
Pretty Lies: A contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 1) Page 11
