Laura's Secrets

by Shannon Greenland

  Two oversized bodyguards dressed in black T-shirts and dark jeans accompanied them. Will walked beside Eric, listening to him tell a joke he'd heard on the radio. In front of them, the lead singer and keyboard player discussed one of the new songs planned for the evening show. The drummer and bass player brought up the rear, whispering about their sexual adventure from the night before.

  Will glanced up as they came to a stop and nodded to one of the security officers standing off to the right.

  Their manager turned to face them. “Okay, fellas, behind this door are the President of Coast Records, the CEO of Launch Enterprises, the Financial Advisor for LBC, the owner of this performance hall, the media, and many more.” His lips stretched into a charming, professionally whitened smile. “Be on your best behavior, boys."

  "Come on,” the drummer whined. “We know the drill. We promise to be good and not molest their daughters until after the show."

  The rest of the guys chuckled. Their manager shook his head. “You better be glad I love you boys. Lord knows the stuff I put up with.” He opened the door, then stepped aside to let the men pass through in front of him.

  Fifty people crowded into the green-carpeted room. White foldable chairs held half the crowd while the others stood along the back and side walls. A long table stretched across the front with six microphones placed at intervals.

  Will walked into the room, lifting his hand in greeting. He took his place at the front table and surveyed the crowd staring back at them like they were pagan gods. He broke the awkward silence, “So, did anyone hear I got mobbed a few days ago in Central Park?"

  The crowd laughed, and everyone started speaking at once.

  "I wanted to ask you about that."

  "It was in the papers."

  "And on the radio and TV, too."

  "Were you hurt?"

  "You'd gone running, right?"

  "Are you generally an early riser?"

  "Had you eaten breakfast yet?"

  "Who was the woman with you?"

  When the lady in the back corner shouted the last question, a hush fell over the crowd. All the band members turned and grinned at Will, plainly relieved he was the one under scrutiny.

  He kept his expression impassive. “Well, it's nice to know the paper, radio, and TV think I'm so newsworthy."

  The crowd chuckled.

  "Yes, I'm an early riser and enjoy running before I start my day. No, I hadn't eaten breakfast yet and don't until after my run. I wasn't hurt, and the woman? A fellow runner, that's it."

  "Where did you meet her?” someone in the front asked.

  "At the hotel or out in the city?"

  "Is she younger than you or older?"

  Will nudged Eric's foot under the table, trying to tell him help! He knew who Will had been with that day.

  Eric must have got the hint because he leaned forward into his microphone. “Hey! Have I bragged about my kid yet?"

  The crowd laughed, and the attention effectively switched to Eric, who everyone knew loved to talk about his son. He glanced Will's way and delivered a quick, knowing wink.

  Will relaxed back in his chair. Rumors, bad media, or pressure were the last thing he and Laura needed.

  * * * *

  The band completed a last minute sound check. The house was set to open in ten minutes. Will hurried around the corner onto the stage where he'd left his hat. Laughter, chatter, and squeals filled the air from the crowd waiting outside the Philadelphia performance hall.

  The drummer sat behind his gear, idly tapping a rhythm on the snare, staring off into space. Will grabbed his hat from under a riser as he studied the drummer. The other guys had already gone to their dressing rooms to prepare for the evening show.

  Will followed the drummer's line of sight out into the venue. Laura stood at the soundboard, midway to the back of the house, coiling cables. He turned his attention back to the drummer, noted the interest etched in his eyes, and walked across the stage. “Hey, the house is about to open. What are you doing?"

  The drummer pointed his chin in Laura's direction. “Enjoying the scenery and contemplating flirting. I usually go for big hair and tits, but the natural look works for her.” He gave a snort. “Wouldn't ya love to get her in bed? It's the quiet ones that scream."

  Will ground his jaw. He'd heard the guys talk trash about a lot of women over the years, but he never expected Laura to be on the receiving end. None of the guys, but Eric, knew Will had an interest in Laura. He wanted to keep it that way.

  The drummer let out a slow, low whistle. “Check it out. That's a real woman for ya."

  Will glanced over his shoulder to see Laura carrying a sub woofer down the aisle.

  The drummer set his sticks down and stood. “That speaker's got to weigh fifty pounds, if not more. Turns me on watching her maneuver it."

  Will's teeth clamped together so hard he thought he felt a tooth crack. Pivoting back to the drummer, he summoned the most lighthearted voice he could. “You don't want to waste your time with a techy. She's not a play toy. There'll be plenty of girls around tonight after the show."

  Laura grunted.

  Will turned around just as she crawled under the stage pushing the sub woofer in front of her. He hurried across the performance area and down the steps. “What are you doing? We hire roadies to do stuff like that."

  "I'm perfectly capable."

  He squatted down and peered between boxes of backup equipment. “I know you're capable, but you could hurt yourself. That thing's heavy."

  Laura emerged from behind a clump of speakers. “I'm fine."

  Will straightened and moved out of her way. “Have a roadie do that next time, please."

  She stood and brushed her hands on her jeans. “If I need something done, and I've got the time to do it, then I do it."

  He folded his arms across his chest and gave her his best disapproving look.

  She copied his stance.

  Will bit back a grin.

  A smile tugged at the corners of Laura's lips.

  The drummer walked to the end of the stage and looked down at the two of them. “Hey, Laura, I was telling Will how sexy you look hauling all that heavy equipment around."

  Laura glanced up at the drummer, then back at Will. The humor faded from her expression. “House opens in one minute. You guys need to clear out.” She turned and walked down the aisle back to her soundboard.

  "Nothing fazes that woman,” the drummer said. “I think I'll make it my mission to get a reaction out of her. What do you think, you in?"

  Will glared up at him. “No, I'm not in. She's not a gambling experiment. Find something else to do with your free time."

  Five

  * * * *

  On stage, Jay squatted at the back of a speaker pretending to adjust some wires. Peering down the length of the Philadelphia performance hall, he confirmed Laura was still playing her guitar at the mixing board. She'd been cautious all day with the technical workers, overseeing their every movement. With the microphone mishap in New York, everyone understood.

  Glancing first over his right shoulder, then left, he stood, pulled the tiny scissors from his front pocket, and strolled over to the onstage monitors.

  Pretending to drop something, he leaned down, picked it up, and cut the monitor wiring all in one motion.

  "Yo, Jay, wanna join me for a smoke?"

  Jay spun around and shoved the scissors into his back pocket. He winced. “S-sure. Go on out, I'll be there in a second."

  He licked his dry lips and cut his gaze toward Laura. She still existed in her own world, oblivious to him. With his luck she'd be the Head Sound Engineer for years, and he'd never get a shot at the position.

  Jay tilted his head back and looked up at the stage lights, imagining himself behind the mixing board in charge of the whole show.

  He wanted it and would do anything, anything, to get it.

  * * * *

  Tourist fans jammed behind the barriers, screaming a
nd reaching for the six band members as they pulled up to the performance hall after their promotional luncheon.

  The band's manager stopped the guys from exiting the limousine. “Listen up. Wave and smile, but no autographing. We've got a packed afternoon with sound check and rehearsing our new song."

  He ushered them out of the vehicle and into the venue. The guys filed off in different directions to use the bathroom, have a smoke, or relax. Rehearsal didn't start for fifteen minutes.

  Will made a beeline for the sound area and Laura. When was the last time he had a jittery stomach over a woman? Thirty-three years old and he felt like sixteen again. And all over a shy, beautiful lady that turned him inside out.

  He came to a stop a few feet from her, staring at the picture she made. Laura's khaki-clad legs stretched to eternity in front of her with her heels balanced on the edge of her mixing board. The guitar she cradled looked ten years old. She'd pulled on a gray sweatshirt, probably to ward off the chill in the theater.

  With her eyes closed, her slim fingers moved deftly over the strings. Will didn't recognize the loving melody, but the emotion in it had settled her face into a peaceful, content expression.

  Then it hit him. That music. He'd heard it before. Something about it seemed familiar. He listened to the bars more closely, trying to place it...

  "Is my music that awful?” Her voice had a certain dream-like quality to it. He hadn't heard it quite like that before. Amazing how the right piece of music could settle someone's soul.

  "What is that? Usually I can peg a piece of music, but you've stumped me."

  Laura wedged the pick under one of the strings. “It's been rolling around in my mind for days now. I'm not sure where I got it.” She slid off the stool and laid the guitar back in its case.

  "Well, whatever it is, I like it. Did your guitar just get here?"

  She nodded and snapped the case closed. “I had a colleague in Nashville send it to me. Did you have a good lunch?"

  "Yep. Did you eat?"

  Laura propped her hip against the stool and folded her arms across her stomach. “The sponsor had some food laid out backstage."

  "I brought something for you."

  "Thanks, but I'm not hungry."

  Will shook his head and closed the small distance between them. “That's good, because it's not food.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a Philadelphia patch. “I noticed your duffel bag has patches sewn all over it. I figured you'd want one from this city, too."

  Laura stared at the tiny, cloth patch lying in his outstretched hand. She didn't reach for it, and he wondered if he'd made a mistake. Will studied her face, trying to read her expression.

  He started to take his hand away. “If-I thought-it's okay—"

  She placed her hand on top his, effectively stopping his stammering. Sliding the patch from his fingers, she lifted bewildered eyes to his. “Thank you."

  A cloth patch, small and insignificant to most, but she reacted as if it was her first gift ever. It made Will want to shower her with silly, little trinkets and big, expensive whatevers. “You're welcome."

  The guys began to filter on stage. Laura tucked the patch in her front pocket and glanced at the performance area.

  "Good luck mixing the new song,” Will said, then trotted, or rather it felt more like floated down the aisle.

  "That's a silly grin you've got,” Eric teased as Will came on stage.

  He didn't realize he had been grinning. “I'm telling ya, there's something about that woman that makes me all...” he waved his hands around looking for the right word.

  Eric laughed. “I know, man, my wife does the same thing to me.” He clapped Will's shoulder. “Welcome to the world of love."

  Will's grin faded. “L-love? Jeez, man, I wasn't quite ready to give it that word."

  "Hey, don't let a little four letter word freak you out."

  He reached for his guitar and strapped it on. “I'm going to have to think about that one."

  "Well don't think too hard about it. You'll ruin some of the fun of letting things happen naturally."

  "Okay, guys. Ready?” Laura's voice echoed over the house mike.

  The band signaled her with a wave.

  "Check on mike one."

  The lead singer stepped up to his microphone. “Check."

  "Check on mike two."

  "Wait a minute, Laura,” the lead singer yelled out through the house. “I can't hear myself in my monitor."

  "Okay, hang on a minute."

  Will heard Laura on the radio to the backstage monitor mixer. “Jay, make sure the lead monitor is up."

  "It's up,” Jay responded.

  Laura grabbed the house mike again. “Okay, now try."

  "Testing one, two, three. Testing.” The lead singer shook his head.

  Stepping over the barrier that surrounded her area, Laura jogged to the stage. She walked over to the bad monitor and knelt down to examine it. “Looks like it's been cut.” She held up some snipped wires.

  "First my mike and now my monitor. What the hell's going on?” the lead singer demanded.

  Laura stood and looked him in the eyes. “Someone is tampering with our equipment. I examined your mike in New York after the mishap. The wires on the inside were shredded."

  "Well it's your job,” the lead singer pointed a finger at her, “to make sure that crap doesn't happen. We never had these problems when Ed mixed for us."

  "It's my job,” she calmly responded, “to make sure this equipment gets set up, and I mix your show to the best of my ability. I cannot be everywhere at once and act as security for all the equipment."

  "Well whoever's messing around with our stuff either has it out for you, or me. Now,” he took a step closer to her, “I'd say it's you because this wasn't going on before you showed up."

  "Lay off her,” Will interrupted. “She can't help it if someone's messing around with our stuff."

  The lead singer pivoted toward him. “You stay out of this."

  "Gentlemen,” Laura spoke in a soft, but commanding voice. “I'll replace this monitor, and we'll continue with sound check. Afterward, I'll speak with security and have them pay closer attention to our workers.” She turned and walked off stage, not giving either of them a chance to respond.

  From up on his pedestal, the drummer chuckled. “And then she exited leaving an icy path in her wake.” He dramatically shivered. “I feel like I'm on a soap opera. I can see the headlines now, ‘Sabotage Plot on Rock Tour'."

  "Shut up,” Will and the lead singer snapped in unison, then turned and glared at each other.

  * * * *

  Laura stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her head. She eyed the Pennsylvania patch sitting on the bathroom counter top. Will had noticed the state patches sewn on her duffel. He'd understood what meant something to her, went out, and bought it.

  Aunt Jane had given her gifts over the years, but they were always what Jane wanted her to have, not what Laura wanted. Whether a fluffy dress, hair ribbons, or a porcelain doll, Jane had given her what she thought a “perfect” girl should have. She'd never known, or cared, about Laura's real likes and dislikes.

  She glanced up at her naked reflection, turned left, then right, peeked over her shoulder for a rear view. What if she stood like this in front of Will? Would she be unselfconscious and confident of what belonged to her? Or would she be shy and inhibited and want to cover up?

  You'll go straight to Satan if any boy touches your body.

  Laura shook her head, casting out her aunt's voice.

  With your scraggly body, you'll be lucky if any man wants you.

  Laura tugged the towel off her head. “Go away,” she hissed.

  Don't you lock that door, young lady. If I want to see you naked, I'll see you naked.

  She grabbed the comb off the counter and yanked it through her hair.

  There's nothing special about you.

  "Shut up,” Laura screamed and threw the co
mb at the mirror.

  She stomped out of the hotel bathroom and over to her suitcase. She picked up her T-shirt, roughly shoved it over her head, then tore it off and threw it across the room.

  "You know what, you stupid, crazy aunt?” she yelled. “I'm not going to put on any clothes! You are not barging in this room! You are not telling me what stupid dress to wear! You are not ever going to comment on my body again!"

  She paced over to the window, jerked open the curtains, and stood stark naked, raggedly breathing. From the twentieth floor she stared down at a dark, twinkle lit Philadelphia. “And I locked the door and there's nothing you can do about it,” she finished through gritted teeth.

  A knock sounded. She spun around. “What?"

  "It's Will."

  Laura took a deep breath and quickly pulled on her shorts and T-shirt. She walked over and opened the door. He stood there dressed for bed in pajama bottoms, a white T-shirt, and socks. His cuddly look soured her mood even more. “What do you want?"

  Will cocked a brow at her tone of voice. Her flushed face looked annoyed, and her wet hair hung in long, partially combed clumps. Her recent shower made the air moist with the smell of soap.

  And she wasn't wearing a bra. “I wanted to see if you had any problems with the show tonight."

  Still holding on to the doorknob, Laura propped her other hand on her hip. “After the monitor mishap? No, nothing else."

  "Good.” Will peered past her into the hotel room. “I heard voices."

  "The TV's on."

  He had a clear shot of the TV from where he stood. “No it's not."

  Laura sighed. “Is there something you needed?"

  Will shifted and propped his shoulder against the doorframe. He smiled and decided to have infinite patience with her obvious foul mood. “Thought I'd visit for awhile."

  "I'm not in a good mood and don't feel like being around anybody."

  "That's okay, I've got enough of a good mood for both of us."

  "Wiiilll,” she warned.

  "Lauuurrra,” he warned back.

  She clinched her jaw, pivoted on her heel, and headed back into the room. Will felt like punching the air over the triumph.

  He stepped over the threshold and closed the door. Once again, black electric tape covered the peephole. Turning, he glanced in the bathroom, saw her towel heaped on the floor with a comb on top. A few blond hairs wound through the teeth. Not at all her usual neat, tidy self.