Fallen for Rock

by Wells, Nicky

  Jed guffawed, but in a good-natured way. ‘Your face is priceless, Emily. I bet you didn’t expect that?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘You were getting off on the classical though, weren’t you? I bet that’s more your scene.’

  ‘Well…sometimes. I am a fan, of course. Of MonX, I mean.’ Best to keep up with the pretence, although an amused snort from Jed told me that I wasn’t fooling him. But he didn’t challenge me.

  ‘Good for you,’ he simply said.

  Meanwhile, the rocked-up aria came to a screeching halt as Mike put down his microphone and held up his other hand to stop the music.

  ‘Wassup?’ someone enquired from the sound booth.

  ‘You gotta fix this loose connection,’ Mike barked roughly. ‘And I need more Will and Lewis.’

  A groan went up from a group of technicians, but they immediately climbed onto the stage and got busy. We watched in silence as the sound crew scrabbled to fix the issue.

  ‘Jed…?’

  ‘Hm?’

  ‘What does he mean, he wants more Will and Lewis?’

  ‘Ah. Well, Will is the guitarist, and Lewis is the bass player. What Mike meant was that he can’t hear the band, he can only hear himself and a bit of Jake, the drummer.’

  I stared. ‘How’s that possible? They’re all up on stage together, how can they not hear each other?’

  Jed smiled. ‘You’re forgetting that most of the instruments are electric. All that sound goes from the instrument through the cable to the sound booth and back again to the stage for the musicians to hear, and of course to the PA for the audience to hear.’

  He fixed me with a penetrating stare. ‘You may be a fan, but you’re certainly a gig virgin, aren’t you?’

  I blushed. ‘You’re right. I confess. Please don’t tell on me, but I’ve never been to a gig before.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ he soothed. ‘There’s a first time for everything. I’m pleased you came, and I’m sure the band will be delighted to meet you. You’re different. They’ll like that.’

  He spoke with considerable authority, but I didn’t get a chance to ask him what he meant because Adam appeared and clapped his hands, calling everyone to attention.

  ‘Ladies and gents, VIPs and friends—dinner is now served in the VIP bar. If you want to make your way across, feel free to help yourself to whatever tickles your fancy. The band will be joining you all shortly.’

  A delighted cheer arose from the VIPs.

  ‘Grub’s up,’ Jed interpreted Adam’s announcement. ‘The buffet is open. You hungry?

  ‘Starving.’ My tummy rumbled right on cue.

  ‘Let’s see if we can’t appease that grumbling,’ Jed suggested. ‘Come on.’

  ‘Do you think the band will really show?’

  ‘I should think so. Would you like me to introduce you?’

  He was striding out now, and I struggled to keep up. ‘That would be nice, thank you. Do you know them well?’

  ‘You could say so. I’m Mike’s older brother.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  OMG.

  He might as well have whacked me over the head with a wet tea towel. I swallowed any kind of response and concentrated on walking up the stairs to the VIP bar.

  Obviously it wasn’t a big deal that Jed was Mike’s brother. Why would it be? I wasn’t interested in Mike or impressed by his celebrity status. So why had this little nugget of news gone down like a bombshell in my head?

  Because of all the people to expose your complete lack of knowledge about MonX to, you had to pick the singer’s brother. That’s why.

  ‘I didn’t pick him, he approached me,’ I retorted to myself silently. ‘Any anyway, what does it matter what anyone thinks?’

  It didn’t, of course. But I found myself in the throes of an unfamiliar confusion, and it was a most uncomfortable sensation. Nothing was working out as I had expected. The people I was meeting seemed nice and genuine and disturbingly normal. Rock music wasn’t about making noise. On the contrary, the musicians seemed as skilled and professional as any classical performer. I was quietly eating a ton of humble pie as I was forced to revise my opinions.

  With the humble pie came anticipation. In quashing my preconceptions, I was also opening up the possibility of actual enjoyment. The excitement that had irrationally gripped me on the way here was threatening to bubble over into something more radical, like outright joy. My heart was beating loud and fast, and adrenaline was sloshing through my veins. I could feel it in my hands, because my fingers were trembling.

  Talk about falling off the deep end! Could this really be happening to me? Could I really be letting my hair down?

  I remembered that my hair was already down and gave an experimental toss of the head. Yup, all free and swishy, and feeling good. Well, then.

  I squared my shoulders and put a brilliant smile on my face. ‘Time to enjoy myself,’ I muttered.

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Jed commented, and I gave a start.

  ‘Did I say that out loud?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Oops. Sorry, I was lost in thought and…’

  ‘No need to apologise. I’m all for enjoyment. Come on, let’s grab some food and rock ‘n’ roll.’ He took my arm and steered me towards the buffet.

  The bar was buzzing with people. The twenty or so VIPs were mingling around the tables laden with food. Many of them were clutching CD inlays and posters, complete with marker pens or biros, ready to ask the band for autographs. They were struggling to balance plates and glasses as well as their goodies.

  To avoid being caught in a similar predicament, I surreptitiously placed my now empty bottle—how did that happen?—on a side table to address myself to the buffet.

  It was excellent ‘grub’. In fact, it was a veritable feast. I dithered about where to start. The mini Yorkshire puddings with roast beef and horseradish sauce looked very tempting. As did the tiny chicken fajitas. On the other hand, I was also partial to a three-cheese tartlet garnished with shredded grape.

  ‘What would you like?’ Jed interrupted my thoughts. ‘You said you were hungry.’

  ‘Everything looks awfully good. I don’t know where to begin.’

  ‘Here, have a bit of everything. Excuse fingers.’ Quick as lightning, Jed added to my plate two and three helpings of all the delights on offer. I tried to stop him, but when I reached out a hand to nudge him on the shoulder—gently, of course—he pressed a cocktail into it, and suddenly I was stuck. I looked from my be-cocktailed hand to my hand clutching an overflowing plate, and I giggled. I didn’t mean to, but it was funny. Well, it was funny if you knew me. I was so far away from my normal life, it was as if I had left myself at home and sent an impostor here instead.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Jed wanted to know.

  ‘Nothing,’ I assured him. ‘It’s only…I don’t seem to know myself tonight.’

  He gave me a quizzical look after this cryptic pronouncement but didn’t press me any further. ‘Shall we sit down somewhere to eat?’

  ‘That would be great.’

  It would also mean I could take the weight off my feet. My black block heels were made for standing in, not walking around, and my little toes were killing me.

  Jed navigated me towards a corner, and we sat down gratefully on a sofa. Jed put his drink on the table and propped his feet up next to it while he sat back to tuck into his food. I was a little taken aback and a touch envious at the ease with which he violated normal table manners, but he didn’t seem in the slightest concerned.

  ‘Tuck in,’ he suggested cheerfully.

  I set my cocktail down next to his beer and reclined awkwardly in the corner of the sofa. Man, but it was deep and squashy. My bottom was sinking so low that my knees were practically level with my chin. I would never be able to get up again. If only I could tuck my feet under me. Or, failing that, put them up next to Jed’s. That would work.

  Casting an agonised look around, I saw that a lot of
people had settled on sofas and chairs all over the room, and that there were an awful lot of feet propped up. Cowboy boots, stilettos and trainers seemed to grin at me wherever I looked. Something in me relaxed. What the heck. When in Rome…

  I pushed my back a little further into the sofa and lifted first my left foot, then my right foot, towards the table. If I placed the deep indent between the sole and the heel against the edge, perhaps that didn’t count as putting feet on table. It was more a sort of…resting pose.

  Jed observed my bodily rearrangement with some amusement but said nothing. I wriggled my bottom slightly and thanked my lucky stars that I was wearing trousers rather than a skirt. Finally, I tucked into my food.

  A mere few minutes later, a cheer rose up through the room, and everybody started clapping. MonX had joined us! Immediately, eager fans abandoned their food and swarmed around the musicians, shaking hands and proffering accessories for autographs. Jed stayed put on the sofa, however, and so did I.

  ‘Don’t you want to meet the band?’ Jed prompted gently.

  ‘I do. But.’ I was suddenly shy, not because of their exalted status, but because I simply wouldn’t know what to say. I really love your music would be a bit of a lie. I shrugged. ‘I don’t really go in for all that mass hysteria. I’m sure I’ll get to say hello in good time.’

  Especially as you’re the lead singer’s brother. I grew hot and cold with the realisation that indeed, sooner or later, Mike was bound to come over. I would have nowhere to hide. What on earth would I say?

  ‘Back in a minute,’ Jed suddenly announced and rose from the sofa. He put his plate on the table and strode across the room towards a tall, very thin woman who had just arrived. He wrapped her in a hug and started talking animatedly. The girlfriend, I assumed. Or maybe even the wife.

  ‘She’s his fiancée. Tara.’

  The unfamiliar voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and before I knew it, Mike had sat down in the very space that Jed had vacated. I swallowed.

  ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘The girl. I saw you talking with Jed during the soundcheck, and I saw you checking her out. She’s his fiancée. Just in case you’re wondering.’ Mike’s eyes twinkled with laughter.

  ‘Oh. Right. I see. I wasn’t…I’m not…’

  I didn’t know what I could possibly say that would sound convincing.

  ‘You’re not what?’

  ‘I’m not interested. In Jed, I mean, not in that way, anyway. Cor, that sounds crass.’ I gave a sort of half laugh, half snort, to hide my embarrassment. ‘What I meant was, I’ve only just broken up with my boyfriend.’

  ‘Aha.’ Mike seemed to perk up. He extended a hand for me to shake. ‘I’m Mike.’

  I shook his hand. ‘I know that.’

  ‘Of course you do.’ Mike was entirely unselfconscious about his famous identity. ‘And you are?’

  He skewed his head and examined my cleavage. Instinctively, I lifted a hand to my chest to obscure his view, but my fingers connected with the backstage pass instead. I blushed. He had been staring not at my cleavage, but at my pass. He was trying to decipher my name.

  ‘Emily,’ I helped him out.

  ‘Emily,’ he read at the same time.

  I mustered a smile even though my tummy was doing somersaults. My mouth seemed to have gone very dry. Mike oozed sex appeal from every pore, and it appeared that I wasn’t immune to his charms. Not even remotely. The only other person I had ever responded to like this, physically, was…Nate.

  ‘You okay?’ Mike grabbed my hand. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I croaked. ‘Only a bad taste in my mouth.’

  ‘Bad taste? Is there something wrong with the food?’

  Mike leaned over to sniff my plate suspiciously, and I burst out laughing.

  ‘The food’s fine. It’s me. It was a metaphorical bad taste.’

  ‘Ah.’ Mike sat back, increasing the distance between his body and mine, and I sneaked in a surreptitious deep breath.

  ‘You looking forward to the show?’

  I nodded. ‘I am, actually.’

  ‘You are, “actually”? You sound surprised.’

  He was extremely perceptive, for a man. Damn, but the parallels between this encounter and meeting Nate were too disturbing for words. I refused to analyse the notion and elected to dig myself a hole instead, for the second time that night.

  ‘I am. Surprised, I mean. Of course I’m a fan, of sorts. I know your music. My ex used to play it all the time. It’s…it’s…’ I searched for a suitable adjective but failed. How did you describe rock music?

  ‘It rocks,’ I eventually supplied, and received a bellow of laughter in return.

  ‘I should certainly hope so,’ Mike yelped, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. I pouted and returned my attention to my food. If in doubt, stuff your mouth with canapés to absolve yourself of the need for small talk.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mike looking me up and down carefully.

  ‘Let me guess,’ he said. ‘Your ex got the VIP tickets, and you’re only here because of him.’

  I swallowed hastily to clear my mouth. ‘Is it that obvious? Do I have a tattoo on my forehead or something?’

  ‘Not really. But you’re different. From, you know, our normal fans.’

  ‘Yeah, so I’ve been told,’ I replied wryly.

  ‘No, it’s good,’ Mike hastily amended. ‘It’s nice. It makes a change. I like it.’

  I like it. The way he said it, it sounded like he meant, I like you. A ferocious blush spread across my cheeks, down my chest, and right down to my toes.

  ‘So where is he?’ Mike’s eyes were all innocence, entirely belying the nature of his leading question.

  ‘Who?’ Two can play your game.

  ‘The ex.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘I don’t know. He’s not here, if that’s what you’re asking.’

  Mike inclined his head and his eyebrows lifted, making his eyes look wide and excited. They were a light, chestnut brown, similar to Nate’s and yet entirely different. They shone with an easy-going, teasing light.

  Mike was extremely handsome, in a rugged kind of way. Where Nate’s hair was only on the long-ish side, Mike’s was unashamedly long. But it suited him. Inexplicably, it seemed to accentuate his manliness, especially when combined with that smooth, bare chest peeking through from under his unbuttoned shirt.

  My all-body blush ratcheted up a few degrees, and I felt extremely hot. I couldn’t be attracted to this man. I couldn’t. I was on the rebound. I loved Nate. I had only just figured out that I loved Nate. I was only here because I wanted him back. Therefore, I couldn’t possibly be having that kind of reaction to a different man. A different rock musician, at that. Was this life’s cruel way of ramming home the error of my ways?

  It took a moment for me to register that Mike had claimed my free hand again and that he was, in fact, gently massaging my palm with his thumb. His touch was warm and gentle, but every time the pad of his thumb alighted on the base of mine, my vagina jumped with joy. I had had no idea that my thumb was an erogenous touch point, but there was no mistake. Mike had a direct line to my loins, and he seemed to know it.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ he muttered softly. ‘He’s not here. How long since you broke up?’

  None of your business, my head screamed. Back off, I’m not interested.

  ‘About four weeks,’ my mouth said coyly. ‘You know what it’s like.’

  Mike’s eyes softened. ‘I do know what it’s like,’ he concurred. ‘From one free soul to another.’

  A bell rang out from somewhere, and it pierced my consciousness like a knife. I felt as though I was waking from a trance.

  ‘Would you like an autograph?’ Mike asked, changing the subject completely. I reeled but pulled myself together.

  ‘Yes, of course. Um…’

  I was still holding my plate, a
nd I had no paper whatsoever to write on. But that didn’t prove a problem.

  Mike grabbed my right arm and turned it inside up. Before I could object, he was writing on it with a marker pen that he had produced from his shirt pocket. The thick nib of the pen tickled the sensitive skin of my inner arm, and I held my breath, too stunned to object. Mike took his time, and the moment was almost sensuous in its significance. I found myself covered in delicious goosebumps from head to toe. It seemed that rock musicians had a peculiar effect on me. My body clearly knew me better than my mind.

  I sat rigid and barely breathing until Mike finished with a flourish, released my arm, and planted a kiss on the back of my hand.

  ‘I must be off. Enjoy the show.’ He got up and left before I could reply. Dumbstruck, I stared after him until he had exited from the room. Only then did I examine his handiwork on my still tingling skin.

  To Emily ~ I hope you’ll come after the show. Mike xxx

  Chapter Sixteen

  I hope you’ll come after the show.

  What on earth did he mean?

  Well. Of course I knew perfectly well what he meant. The subtext was there, loud and clear and not even remotely subtle. The thing was, I was intrigued. On this night of behaving unusually, the sensation of being wild and free and…young was powerful and intoxicating.

  The concert was in full swing. Even though I had been offered seats in the VIP box, I opted for a front row space in the stalls. Never mind my aching feet and unsuitable shoes, I was going all the way tonight.

  It wasn’t easy to get to the front row, but Jed showed me the ropes. His fiancée had gladly taken a seat on the balcony, and thus Jed and I were standing side by side, midsections pressed hard against the railings, hands in the air, swaying, singing, clapping along.

  MonX were something else. They were awesome. In Jed’s words, they really, seriously rocked. Yes, they were loud. Probably too loud. But it was different from recklessly cranking up the stereo at home. I could feel the bass in my bones, almost competing with my heartbeat in its vibrating intensity. The sound was everywhere, around me, on me, inside me. Mike’s voice was powerful and clear, and it made me dizzy to hear his tenor soar on the sustained high notes, of which there were plenty amongst all those guitar riffs and drum solos.