Beautiful Boxset: Beautiful Series, books 1-4

by Anderson, Lilliana

  The night the first EP featuring me goes live, there’s an extra big after party held in the private function room at the City Recital Centre. It’s our biggest gig to date. We played to a sold-out audience, and Theo has even been in talks with promoters who can help us tour around the country.

  “You’re growing,” Amy says, plonking herself beside me on the sofa. I’m taking a moment to rest my feet and observe the energy in the room. My life has become surreal and I need these moments to give myself a pinch to make sure I’m not dreaming.

  “They’re heels,” I say, sipping my water. “I’m too old to grow.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I mean the band, bitchface.” I’d react poorly if I didn’t already know that name calling is Amy’s way of saying she likes you. “Did you see how many followers you gained on Spotify today? You’ve also debuted in the top fifty on Apple Music. I reckon you’ll be on the ARIA charts too. You were the magic ingredient I thought you’d be.”

  “Jesus.” I sit back and absorb that information. The ARIA charts? How did this happen? “What do you mean I’m the ingredient you thought I’d be? Did you organise for Marcus to get me into the band?”

  “No.” She grins and shakes her head. “I just dangled you in front of him. You two have great musical chemistry, and I knew he’d see you and realise he needed you. Men aren’t hard to manipulate.” She chuckles as she sips the clear beverage she has in her glass. I doubt it’s water.

  “What do you get out of this, Amy?” I ask as I study her self-satisfied expression. “You put so much time and effort into the success of this band, but I’m not sure what your goal is. I mean, do you get paid?”

  She lifts her glass. “In alcohol and admiration.”

  “Is it worth it?”

  Meeting my eyes, she releases a heavy breath. “Theo and I have a deal,” she explains. “If you guys go on tour, we get to come with. It’s as simple as that. I’ve attached my future to the Bailey brother rocket and I’m riding it all the way to the moon.”

  “To what end?”

  “What do you mean to what end? I want my life to be a party.” She shrugs. “And when other musicians see what Erica and I did for Matiari, they’ll be begging us to run their social media campaigns too.”

  “I see. Matiari is your industry in?”

  “Not everyone gets to be in the band, Naomi. Some of us work behind the scenes.”

  “Makes sense.”

  She pats me on the leg as she shifts her weight to get up. “I’m going to mingle. You should too. There are two independent labels here, plus that guy talking to Marcus is with Triple J. You might be getting airtime soon.” With a wiggle of her eyebrows, she’s gone, smiling as she chats with some dude wearing a blazer and a T-shirt with holes in it. I’ve never seen that girl smile so much. I’m concerned her face will crack.

  Taking another mouthful of water, I pull my feet half out of my heels, wriggling my toes to force circulation to ease the pain. I really need to remember to pack flats next time. These things are torture devices.

  “Why don’t you take them off?”

  Looking up to the face that matches the voice, I find Theo standing across from me, beer in hand. “Because then I’ll be so short no one can see me.”

  He bounces one shoulder. “No one can see you sitting over here, either.”

  “Is that why you’re here? Finding a quiet corner to escape?”

  A slight grin teases the corner of his mouth. “Something like that.” He plonks himself down on the couch next to me, keeping the standard distance of ten centimetres between us so we don’t touch.

  Surreptitiously taking his advice, I slip my feet completely out of my shoes and press my arches into the carpeted floor. I can’t contain the groan as the pain radiates out of them. Theo chuckles as he tips his beer back and drinks. Then we just sit in silence as we watch everyone else act the way successful band members should—getting shitfaced and picking up.

  “I wonder what number that is,” Theo says, lifting his chin a little.

  “What?” He could be talking about practically anything at this point. How many beers has Jack finished? How many people have kissed Marcus’s arse? How many times has Lachlan needed to push his hair out of his eyes? The list goes on…

  “The girl with Marcus. I wonder if he keeps score.”

  Turning my attention to where Marcus stands, I find him brushing the hair away from a cute brunette’s face. That’s exactly what he did to me outside the bathroom after our first show. I try to ignore that pang of disappointment that hits low in my belly. “I don’t know if he can count that high,” I tease, eliciting a small chuckle from my unlikely party pal.

  “You might be right. He does go through them.”

  I shrug. “He’s never been shy.”

  He turns his attention to me, waiting until I meet his eyes to speak again. My heart skips when our eyes lock. He’s so fucking intense. “Maybe you should let her know how it feels.”

  I suck in a breath. I take back the part about us being pals. “How what feels?” I have a strong sense of exactly what he means, but if he’s going to be an arsehole, he shouldn’t beat around the bush.

  He holds my gaze for a few beats before he leans in close and speaks low in my ear. “To be used and tossed away by my brother.”

  I flinch away from him. “Fuck you, Theo.” My brow creases as I meet his penetrating glare.

  “That’s what you did with Marcus. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

  Without any forethought, my hand flies out and slaps him in the face, an instant sting heating my palm. Wincing slightly, he recovers fast and has the audacity to laugh at me.

  “Go eat a bag of dicks. I wouldn't touch you either.” I jump up and storm towards the exit. The altercation has drawn quite a few curious glances. Oddly, no one asks if I’m OK.

  As I push past the final party goers and make it out the door, my feet hit a cool surface. Shit. I forgot my shoes. The last thing I want to do is go back in there for them. I settle for leaving barefoot as I pull out my phone to book an Uber.

  “Forget something?” The unmistakable rumble of Theo’s voice follows me down the hall.

  “Nope.” I wave over my shoulder and keep going. “I’m happy leaving just the way I am.”

  “Absconding from a party held in your honour?” He titches as he falls into step beside me. “Some might say that shows a lack of gratitude.”

  “Oh my god, Theo. Go away. I’ve had enough of you for one night.”

  “I think you can handle a little more. I’ll drive you home.”

  “I've already called an Uber.” I pick up my pace.

  “Cancel it.” He keeps walking right beside me.

  “No.” Can’t this guy take a hint?

  Glancing at me, he clocks my phone in my hand then snatches it away.

  “Hey!”

  He taps at the screen a few times then hands it back to me. “Cancelled.”

  I stop moving as we reach the exit, my mouth open as I stare at my screen. "How do you even know my password?”

  “It’s your birthdate backwards. Not very cryptic.”

  “How do you know my birthdate?”

  “I manage the band. I know everyone’s birthdate.”

  He hits the button on his key fob and the lights on his van flash. “You gonna get in yourself or do I need to carry you over the pavement?”

  I look from his van to him then scan the street for any obvious broken glass. “Just give me my shoes. I'll walk.”

  “Sure thing, princess,” he says, holding my heels out to me. The last thing I want to do is put those things back on my feet. But all I have to do is make it to his van and I can take them off again. I’ll manage.

  Bracing myself against the door, I hiss from the abrasive pain of the lining against my toes. My shoes feel at least two sizes too small as I take a ginger step towards the street.

  “Oh, for fuck's sake,” Theo says, sweeping me off my feet a
s I yelp.

  “Put me down.” I cling for dear life to his shirt. He’s a Neanderthal. A total cave man. Of all the bands in the world, why did I have to find my way into his?

  “Once you’re in the fucking van.” He stops beside the passenger door. “Open it.” I do as he says then he deposits me roughly in the front seat.

  “You’re an oaf.” I push my skirt down to properly cover my thighs while I scowl at him.

  “You’re welcome, princess.”

  “I’m no princess. I could have walked on my own.” He slams my door while I’m still talking. Motherfucker. “Are you going to be a dick the whole drive home?” I ask when he gets in the van and turns the ignition.

  “That depends. You gonna be a pain in my arse?”

  “I’m not a pain in your arse. You’re a pain in mine.”

  “Then how about we listen to the radio instead of each other?”

  “Suits me.” I fold my arms across my chest and look out the window while Theo searches for a station not playing ads. Guns and Roses November Rain fills the silence and I’m happy to rest my head against the window and just listen.

  Guns and Roses. I wonder how they came up with that name? Is it because a gun and a rose are two very different things? Or because the name is somehow symbolic to the members of the band? I’m sure it’s explained somewhere online….

  “Why Matiari?” I ask suddenly, momentarily forgetting we aren’t speaking. “You know what, forget it. I’ll ask one of the other guys.”

  He laughs for a moment, the sound surprising me. “You remember that game that went around Facebook years ago where you search a random article on Wikipedia, and that’s your band name?”

  “Vaguely.”

  He glances at me briefly. “We did that.”

  A laugh escapes my chest. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. One hundred percent.”

  “What would have happened if the random article was titled ‘Dogs balls’ or something? Would you have named your band that?” What an insane way to name something as important as your band.

  Chuckling and shocking me again, he shrugs. “The first name we got was Matiari. It sounded cool, so we went with it.”

  “But you weren’t in the band in the beginning.”

  He blows some air out between tight lips. “Someone needed to book gigs and keep track of everything.”

  “So you’re the responsible brother who saved his pocket money and Marcus was the one who spent it all straight away?”

  “Something like that.”

  “And what does Matiari mean?”

  “It’s a place in Pakistan or something. Wikipedia claims it’s well known for its academics, religious scholars and poets. They also produce some sort of hat and a weird sounding dressing.”

  “Dressing? Like a salad dressing?”

  “I have no idea.” He laughs. “That’s just what the article says.”

  “Well. I like it. It’s a good name.”

  “Yeah. I think so too,” he says, shifting down a gear as he takes the exit ramp off the freeway, heading towards the suburb of Hurstville where I live.

  “Do you know my address too?” I ask when he seems to know exactly where he’s going.

  “It’s my job to know these things,” he says, like having all this information on me is no big deal.

  “It’s kind of weird.”

  "I never claimed to be normal." He pulls up outside my apartment building and leaves the engine running.

  Unclipping my seatbelt, I twist my torso towards him and study his handsome features in the low light. “Do you hate me because I slept with Marcus, or do you just have no respect for me?”

  “I already told you. I don’t hate you.”

  “So you don’t respect me?”

  “I didn’t say that.” This man makes me nuts. I’m stuck between wanting to punch him in the face and wanting to win him over so he’ll flash one of those handsome smiles at me.

  “Would it help you to know that I don't even remember it?” I hate talking about that night, but since his issues with me seem to revolve around the fact I have history with Marcus, I have to try.

  He meets my eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that someone drugged me that night.”

  His eyes flash. “What?”

  “Not by Marcus. There was this guy giving out Cruisers as a lucky dip. Mine tasted off, so I guess I won. I don’t remember much past the first song Matiari played. Next thing I knew, it was morning and I was in bed with Marcus while a twitter storm was brewing with photos of me with Marcus and the guy who played keyboards that night: Aramis.” I let my head drop back against the seat and laugh. “I had a threesome with two guys, and everyone seems to remember it but me.”

  “You didn't have a threesome,” he says before he clears his throat and looks forward.

  “I didn’t?” My stomach leaps in hope.

  He shakes his head. “Marcus told me about your um... evening. It was just the two of you.”

  “Seriously? Oh my God that is a huge relief. Are you sure?”

  A frown crosses his features as he nods. “Aramis left the moment Marcus stepped in. He wasn’t a fan of sharing.”

  “Was I the reason he left the band?”

  His tongue snakes out, and he licks his lips. “He was just gone one day.”

  “So you don’t know the reason?”

  He presses his lips together and lifts his shoulders before he blows out some air.

  “It’s OK. I just always wondered what happened to him. I tried calling him but he pretty much ghosted me and everyone he knew. I thought maybe he got what he wanted from me then left, but now….” I let out a sigh. “Maybe he just decided I was a total thot and didn’t want anything to do with me.” I twist my mouth to the side, chewing on the inside of my lip. “I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore. Thanks for the lift.” I place my hand on the door handle and push the door open.

  “You’re not a thot, Naomi. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

  I stop with one foot out of the car. “It’s hard not to when the one night I can’t even remember seems to define me to some people.” We lock eyes. A few beats pass and there’s something that flashes in his eyes, some emotion I can’t read because he tears his eyes away and focuses on the steering wheel.

  “I shouldn’t have said the shit I did tonight, or any other night for that matter. It was really low of me and you didn’t deserve it.”

  Holy shit. My eyes go wide and I'm pretty sure my mouth is hanging open. He’s apologising?

  When I don’t respond straight away, he clears his throat and moves on. “Listen, I need you to come around to the studio so I can take your photo to add to the website. Now that you’re an official member of the band, I need to add your bio page.”

  “Ok. When do you need me?” I ask him calmly, although inwardly, I’m still shocked he apologised to me. Does this mean we’re cool now?

  “Tomorrow at ten.”

  “All right. I’ll see you then.” I nod, shutting the car door and stepping away from his van.

  Before I turn to leave him, the electric window rolls down and he tilts his head down to see me properly. “Flick your lights twice so I know you went inside safely.”

  “What?”

  Without responding, he clicks the button on the centre console and the window goes up, the reflection of the street lights on the car’s window tinting making it impossible for me to see inside.

  “Um, ok,” I say, confused because the Theo who wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole shouldn’t give a shit about waiting until I’m all the way inside my apartment. He’s such a confusing man.

  With my heels dangling off my fingers, I make my way up the front steps to my apartment building and scan my security fob to get inside. It’s not long before the lift arrives to transport me to the fourth floor where my place is. As I ride up, I bite my lip in contemplation, wondering if I leave the lights off will he come inside t
o check on me? Do I want him to come inside and check on me? Probably not. That was the first semi-decent conversation I’ve had with him in months. I don’t want to mess that up playing games to try to figure him out.

  When I get inside, I hover my hand over the light switch before I let out a sigh and leave things dark. I just want to see if he’s still here. That’s possibly a lie I’m telling myself as I walk through my dark apartment. I mean, he could have told me to turn the lights on and off to create an illusion he cares so he can torment me in some new and creative way later. I need to know if he’s genuine or if this is some kind of set up so he can write a song called Naïve Girl and embarrass me on stage.

  Reaching the window, I look down at the street, finding Theo’s van still idling on the curb. This is weird. I replay our conversation over in my mind. Is this turnaround seriously because I told him I can’t remember sleeping with Marcus? Does it matter that much to him? And if it does, why? It’s not like Marcus and I are sleeping together now. We’ve all stayed true to the no fraternising rule and behave like buddies. Maybe slapping him knocked some sense into him? Geez, if I’d known that, I would have slapped him on the first day.

  While I’m trying to riddle things out, the driver’s side door opens, and I gasp in surprise, realising I’ve been watching him in the dark for quite a while. I rush over to the closest light switch and slap my hand against it, my heart thudding loudly against my chest as I flick it on and off. I’ll just tell him I took the stairs if he asks….

  When I go back to the window to see if he’s still there, a huge sigh of relief bursts out of me as I spot his van pulling into the street. I watch until his lights disappear around the corner before I flop down on the couch and study the callouses I have building on the tips of my fingers. I wonder if I will ever figure that man out. One moment he seems to have nothing but contempt for me, and the next he shows concern. So bloody confusing. But when you always do what's right for the band, I suppose a little concern for the band members is normal. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea…