by L. T. Kelly
“Your mother never speaks about him, huh?” Al groaned as he nestled onto the couch and patted the seat beside him.
Evan selected a space at the opposite end from Al, sighing loudly. His eyes were directed to the ceiling, deciding how best to explain the way his mother spoke about his father. “Everything I could find of dad’s I had to hide.” He took a deep breath and ran his palms over his jeans to get rid of the perspiration there. “Something must have stunk to her when I refused to get rid of the record player in my room. She found Monument’s albums at the back of my closet, and let’s put it this way…” He tipped his head to the side, turning his glance back to Al. “I was finding pieces of vinyl for months after that.”
Al made a clucking noise with his mouth. “That’s not good lad.”
“I managed to save one. I keep it in there.” He pointed at his guitar case.
“So you play? Your dad would have been happy about that.”
Evan snorted. “I’m in a band. We do more than just play. We rock the joint.”
Evan watched Al’s smile morph into a grin that matched his own.
“We’re playing a gig tonight. Do you wanna come along and take a look?”
Al sat up straighter. “Can’t think of anything else I’d rather do, lad. You got tickets?”
“Are you kidding me? You aren’t gonna need no ticket. You’re Al fucking Wright, bassist from Monument, providing grade-A rock to eighties and nineties kids worldwide.” He took a deep breath. “Or did you forget that?”
Al laughed and shook his head. “No, but thanks for the reminder.”
* * * *
“Come on, Katie. Stop bloody fannying around.”
“All right, love, keep your hair on,” Katie said, stepping out of the bathroom. She grinned as she watched Mel’s jaw drop and her eyes travel over Katie’s black, body-con dress and her long, loose curls.
She’d made an effort with her makeup, too. Heavy black eyeliner and smoky eye shadow completed the rock chick look she’d aimed for.
“You don’t scrub up half bad. Anyone would think you were off out looking for some romance.” Mel offered her a wink.
Katie’s mouth twisted into a grimace, she tugged the dress down, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. It was too late to change now. She’d gone to Mel’s to get ready and hadn’t brought anything else with her. She’d changed her mind about the strappy black stilettos that were in her bag downstairs, waiting to be put on, too. “Just because I want to look nice on my first night out in five years, doesn’t mean I’m looking for a bloke,” she huffed and barged past Mel to get downstairs.
Mel hurried after her. “Sorry, love, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant—”
“What did you just mean?” Katie spun around when she reached the hallway and glared up at Mel who stood halfway down the stairs.
Mel shifted from one foot to the other. “I meant that you look stunning, okay? I mean, look at the state of me.”
Katie smiled. “You’re mad. You’ve got it all. I think you look amazing.”
Mel had always been paranoid about her curves, but she always dressed them up, so well. Suddenly, guilt over giving Mel a hard time made her shoulders rise up in shame. Mel had recently been through a messy divorce after finding out her husband had been having an affair. She needed a huge injection of confidence, as well.
“You think so?”
“Mate, you’re a blonde bombshell.”
Mel giggled. “Hurry up then. The cab will be here in a minute.”
They both got on their shoes as the taxi pulled up to take them to the gig. Katie prayed Alex would rock Mel’s socks off. She really did need that much. As for herself, Katie fully intended on sticking to her plan of getting through the night without thinking about the last night out she’d had, the way Lee had kissed her and drowned her with his gorgeous, blue-eyed stare. It had been the night before he’d gone away. She wouldn’t think of the love she’d known, how whole she’d been, him and her with Jess.
The ache in her stomach would never go away, so what was the point of starting anything else? If she couldn’t have him, she didn’t want anyone. No replacements. No gap fillers. She’d make do with what she had.
They arrived outside the venue and paid the driver, giggly with nervous excitement. Music blared, the sound of a sexy voice floating along on the melody coming from inside the club. Mel and Katie glanced at each other with wide-eyed smiles and nodded, surprised at how good the band actually sounded.
The heat of the London summer enveloped Katie as they handed their tickets to the doorman and headed inside. She followed Mel to the bar, without taking a look at the band, and ordered a white wine and a vodka and Coke for Mel. Turning to hand Mel her drink, she took a peek at the stage, her eyes homing in on the center in a search for the owner of the spine tingling voice.
The glass of vodka and Coke began slipping from her fingers. “Shit,” she muttered unable to tighten her grasp. Mel turned to her and grabbed it before the glass had chance to hit the floor.
“Thanks, love,” Mel said, after taking the drink from her.
Katie turned her face to Mel, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide.
“What’s wrong?” Mel’s smile changed into a thin, straight-line.
“It’s him.”
“Who’s him? What are you chatting on about?” Mel’s features screwed up as Katie left her hanging.
Chapter Three
“The underground man.”
“The underground man?”
Katie took in her friend’s furrowed brow, which almost immediately smoothed out.
“Oh, that man. Where is he then? Let me get a look at him.”
Katie held up a shaky finger and pointed to the lead singer, who warbled a soulful ending to the song.
Mel followed the direction of Katie’s pointed finger. “Oh, right.” She chuckled. “And you really turned him down?”
Mel’s excited voice rang out, but Katie didn’t actually take in what her words meant. The lyrics curled from the singer’s mouth, and her focus didn’t waver from them. Her heart thudded and her nipples tightened at the sight of his tongue running out to wet his lips.
She cleared her throat and sipped the wine she held by the stem of the glass. “What did you say?”
Mel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as threw back her head laughing then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, mate.”
“Okay,” she breathed, unable to snatch her gaze away. Katie had been thrown into a stunned silence. She looked intently at the boy who’d been cocky enough to ask her out on the train. But all she saw was a man, a bloody gorgeous one. She stumbled off kilter. He clearly wasn’t the unemployed busker she’d had him down to be.
“What’s up? What you thinking?” Mel asked.
Mel’s grin made her squirm. “I shouldn’t have been so judgmental,” Katie admitted.
“So, are you going in for the kill?” Mel’s toothy grin, accompanied by her squinted, mischievously sparkling eyes forced Katie to clear her throat and turn to look back at the stage.
“I didn’t say that, did I?”
“You don’t have to, love. Your face says it all.”
“Well, you read my face wrong then, didn’t you?” Katie huffed and folded her arms across her chest.
“Whatever you say.” Mel cackled as though she should be stirring a bubbling cauldron. Katie hoped her cooking pot didn’t contain a bloody love potion.
She sipped at her wine slowly, letting the velvet-toned voice take hold, repeating to herself that she’d never be some groupie. Each time she looked at him, she knew she stared for a little too long.
Mel seemed to be enjoying herself, dancing on the spot and letting go. A few glasses of wine later and Katie joined in. Her breath caught in her throat when the band stopped and announced they were taking a break. Would he recognize her? Would Alex come over alone to chat to Mel?
* * * *
“Hi, Mel,” Evan said, approaching
the two women with a smile.
“Hi,” Katie replied, trying not to look Evan in the face. She peeped at Mel, and her friend’s forehead creased as though she couldn’t understand what was going on.
“That’s not Mel.” She pointed at Katie. “I’m Mel,” she said, bringing her finger to her chest. Her voice pitched high, causing the burn on Katie’s cheeks to intensify.
“Is that so?”
The calmness in Evan’s voice forced her curiosity to get the better of her. Her head snapped up to look at his face. Somehow, he looked more grown up than the last time she’d seen him.
“So what’s your name then?”
His eyes burned into her. He didn’t appear to be mad at her mistruth, but more filled with intrigue. A bubble of laughter jiggled around in her stomach. She quickly raised her wine to her lips and took a sip to keep it at bay. She wouldn’t want him to think she was laughing at him. Her amusement lay purely with herself. She could never have foreseen these events, but she’d somehow managed to morph herself into a woman of mystery though she hadn’t meant to do it. Things like that didn’t happen to straight-talking women like her.
She successfully managed to drink down her delight enough to speak. “It’s Katie.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Katie.” Grinning, he offered a large hand to her.
She took his hand. The warmth of it flooded her. “You too,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. Sure, she’d met him before, but somehow, it felt as though they were meeting for the first time now.
Alex bounced over, his dark hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration. Katie watched him. His eyes were firmly trained on Mel, like no one else existed.
“Hi babe, glad you came,” he said, flinging his arm around her, with overfamiliarity.
Mel shrieked so loudly that several people turned and shot her a look of repugnance. “Get off me. You’re covered with sweat.”
Katie giggled at her friend’s face, screwed up with disgust. This scene didn’t suit Mel at all. It didn't Katie, either. They’d both rather be at home watching weepy movies on TV or snuggling up with a good book. Mel had come here for her, she knew that, but little did she know that Katie had had the same intention. Mel needed to move on from her rat bastard husband, and everyone knows the best way to get over one man is to get under another.
Despite being given the obvious brush, Alex grinned at Mel as she shoved his arm away. “Aw, come on, babe. It’s a hazard of the job. What did you think?” He waved a hand back to the stage.
Katie held her breath as she watched Mel’s lips do a bit of a dance. She silently prayed Mel wouldn’t go so low as to insult their music merely to get out of dating Alex.
Mel’s pretty blonde head dropped to one side. “I don’t want you to take this comment as a deal sealer, but you’re bloody good. You’ve got talent.”
Katie blew out a long, slow breath of relief then nodded in agreement. She’d been concentrating on Mel and Alex for so long she hadn’t taken a look at Evan, still standing beside her. Her body tensed muscle by muscle as his breath tickled her earlobe.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. After the break, we have an hour long set before we finish up. Is there any chance I can buy you a drink after?”
Katie cringed. She wanted to, but how could she? Taking up with this lad seemed wrong on every level. He was good looking, talented, young and carefree. Maybe, they could just be friends?
“Okay,” she breathed, still struggling through the images of them hanging out together and nothing more occurring. She peered at his face, wearing a triumphant look. “But only as friends, all right?”
He stepped away, still facing her and cupping an ear. His grin revealed his perfectly straight, white teeth again, and he mouthed, “Sorry, I can’t hear you.”
Katie shook her head with a smile as she watched him spin away and get lost in the crowd gathered at the front of the stage.
* * * *
“Hey, so what did you think?” Evan walked up behind Al and slapped him on the shoulder.
Al had been given a small, round table and a single chair beside the stage, cordoned off with silver stands and red rope. Evan hadn’t been able to stop his eyes from flicking to Al during the set.
Each time Evan noticed him nodding along to the beat, he’d experienced a painful jolt in his stomach, wishing his father had been there. Al was the closest thing he’d ever get to his dad, so Evan would have to live with it.
“There you are, lad.” Al raised his voice above the music and patted Evan’s back affectionately. “Blown away, mate. Well and truly, you lot have got it.”
Evan grinned. “Got what?”
“It. That thing that will make you stars, and let me tell you, lad, I ain’t going to sit back and let you play in some shitty little London dive for the rest of your days.”
Evan laughed breathlessly. “Well, we all have to start somewhere.”
“Aye, lad, we do. But enough of that for now.” Al smiled salaciously and winked, before throwing back his head to drain the whiskey from his glass.
“Are you leaving?” Evan frowned and looked at Al’s empty glass.
“No chance.” He beckoned a glass collector over to get him a refill. This wasn’t the kind of place where you got waiter service, but when you were Al Wright from Monument you seemingly got what you wanted.
“Good, because I sort of have a favor to ask.” Evan tipped his head to one side, his heart quickening in his chest, nervous that he might be told no.
“Go on then, lad. What can I do for you?”
“Will you play with us tonight?”
Al’s eyes widened. “I don’t know any of your tracks yet, though.”
Evan relished at the word yet but continued his request without commenting on it. “I kind of hoped you wouldn’t mind us playing a Monument track. We know them by heart.” Evan grinned.
Al expelled a throaty laugh and slapped Evan on the back. “Course you do, lad. It would be a bloody honor.”
“Yeah, it would be an honor for us.”
The rest of the band seemed to descend on them from out of nowhere. The introductions had been made to Al prior to them going on the stage. The discussion of whether they should ask the rock legend to play with them that night and if it would be a good or bad thing to throw a cover in on a debut gig had been thoroughly debated on the way to the venue and well into the set up. The general consensus had been that having Al Wright jam with them could only be a good thing.
Alex asked first. He’d been the only one who couldn’t see how anything but good could come from it. “Well, what did he say?”
“Yeah! He said yeah!”
Alex’s grin matched Evan’s face splitter as they high-fived each other.
“Let’s smash this fucking joint!” Alex yelled over the thud of the supporting act’s drum section and made off to get ready for the next set.
“Thanks, Al. We really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it, lad.”
Evan grinned and headed off in the same direction as Alex. Soon enough, Evan strode back on the stage, the bright lights warming him and silhouetting the crowd that seemed hungry for the next song.
The stench of fresh sweat filled his nostrils. The electricity and the crowd’s anticipation was palpable. His skin prickled as he hovered three feet above them. He greeted the eager onlookers and thanked the band that had covered their rest period before breaking into the next song.
This half of the set was more upbeat. He glanced down to watch the audience ripple like a tumultuous ocean. He struggled to keep his eyes from wandering to where Katie had been standing when he’d last seen her, knowing he couldn’t meet her gaze. The way she’d looked at him—impressed—made his dick twinge. He couldn’t shake the memory of those blue eyes, with a darker inky circle on her outer irises. He’d thought she looked smokin’ when he’d seen her on the underground platform, but fuck, she looked like a model tonight.
They’d gotten t
o the end of the set when the roar of applause made his ears tingle and his gut churn with pride. They’d done it; they’d cracked London in one gig. He took his fingers away from the strings and wiped the sheen of perspiration away from his forehead.
“Thank you, London. We’ve been Spires, and you’ve been awesome!”
Alex shot him a wide-eyed look, his fingers gripped the neck of his bass guitar so hard his knuckles turned white. Evan played up to the crowd. He wanted to get them worked up before he announced Al on stage. Evan winked at Alex and turned to see the frown from the drummer and the open-mouthed stare of the keyboardist.
He chuckled as he walked toward the edge of the stage, muttering, “Faithless son’s of bitches.” He slowed his steps when he didn’t hear what he waited for, his stomach painfully contracting with the sudden doubt that squashed his insides.
The long-awaited first call cried out in a female’s voice.
“More, more, more,” she chanted. Then another voice joined her, then another, in ten seconds flat the audience was once again illuminated, wild for another song.
Evan blew out a slow breath, realizing he’d been holding it tightly, terrified he’d been too cocky and made the wrong choice. He rearranged his features so the rest of the band wouldn’t recognize the gripping fear he was sure had been written all over it.
“You made the right choice, London! You rock!” he called out grabbing the microphone with two hands and letting his guitar dangle on the strap around his neck. “We’ve got a surprise for you, haven’t we, guys?” He beamed at his band mates before he looked out toward Al, waiting in the wings, clutching his own bass. One hand whipped out to introduce their star guest. “Ladies and gents, please welcome Al Wright to the stage!”
Al strode out as if he’d never been away from the limelight, as if he belonged there, most likely because he did, like Evan’s Dad had, and now, it was Evan’s turn, too.
The crowd erupted. Excited perspiration coated Evan’s hands, forcing him to wipe them on his jeans to ensure he could execute his next task with utter perfection. There could be no alternative. It had to be perfect.
