Wanderlust

by Roni Loren

  Pete approached the mirrors lining the back wall and rested a hip against the counter. “Man, I’m with you. I don’t want some reporter nosing around when you guys are at each other’s throats. The last thing we need is rumors about a breakup leaking out. But we agreed to an exclusive with the magazine, not with Nick. We’re obligated.”

  Lex groaned. “The hell we are. This is supposed to be my mental vacation or whatever, right? Isn’t that what the label suggested? Take a breather, get inspired, pull a few number-one songs outta my ass. How am I supposed to do that with some reporter tagging along?”

  “How were you going to do it with Nick?”

  “Nick’s my buddy. It wouldn’t be like an interview. We’d hang out. He’d be one of the guys, like an honorary band member, no big deal. Plus, I trust him. If I asked him not to put something in a story, he wouldn’t.”

  “Lex, I don’t think there’s a way out of this unless the magazine voluntarily pulls out. You’re going to have to figure out how to make it work.”

  There was a light tap on the door, and both men turned their heads toward it.

  “Come on in,” Pete said.

  The door cracked open and Body Shot Girl stepped in. “Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt, but one of the guys told me I could come back here.”

  Lex’s scowl morphed into a predatory grin as he scanned the sexy visitor. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a total loss. “Hey there, I didn’t think you were going to make it. If you give me just a minute, I’ll be right with you, sweetheart.”

  She frowned and looked to Pete.

  Pete cleared his throat. “Um, Lex, this is Aubrey Bordelon. She’s the reporter from the NOLA Vibe.”

  “What?” Lex shook his head. “No, this is the chick I did the body shot with on stage.”

  “Yeah, that’s me,” Aubrey said dryly, “reporter and stage prop.”

  “Shit.” Lex scowled. Of all the goddamned luck.

  Aubrey crossed the room with a graceful, confident stride and stuck out her hand to him. Her smile seemed strained, though, like it was hurting her face “Hey, no big deal. You didn’t know, and I didn’t want to be a bad sport in front of the crowd. Why don’t we pretend it never happened and that we haven’t met yet? I’m Aubrey.”

  He gripped her hand. He didn’t want to pretend it never happened. The moment that had passed between them on stage had been the only interesting moment of the whole drag of a night. “Lex Logan.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, dropping his hand and taking a significant step backward, as if he were contagious or something. “I guess Pete told you about Nick.”

  Lex nodded.

  “Yeah, so my boss asked me to take over. Nick’s going to be out of commission for a while.” She tucked her wavy, coffee-colored hair behind her ears, and Lex let his eyes roam to her jawline and the delicate curve of her neck. Her skin looked like the kind of pale that would burn rosy red if touched the right way. He wanted to reach out and test that theory, but he forced his eyes back to her face. She was still talking. “He said that the piece was supposed to be a slice of life kind of thing. A week in the life of a rock star. Is that what he had talked to you about?”

  Lex stuck his hands in his back pockets and shrugged. He had no idea what she’d asked. He was suddenly too focused on the soft pink of her lips.

  Pete jumped in. “Yeah, that’s what we discussed, Ms. Bordelon. A weeklong exclusive.”

  Pete’s words dragged Lex back to reality. Why was he standing here like an idiot thinking about how beddable this girl was? She was a reporter, a reporter who would be trailing after him like a gnat while he tried to get his head and band back together. No way.

  “Look, Aubrey,” he said, trying to sound as polite as possible. “I’m sure you’re a great music journalist and all, but I think I’m going to have to decline. I need the next few weeks to focus on my music and the next album. This is supposed to be a sort of inspiration vacation, if you will.”

  He grinned at his clever term.

  Her sweet smile disappeared and a no-nonsense look took its place. “Mr. Logan, I’m sorry you feel that way, but your manager signed a contract with the magazine guaranteeing the exclusive.”

  “For an interview with Nick,” Lex said.

  “You signed it with the magazine, not a specific reporter. Now, I can promise you that I will be as accommodating as possible. I don’t plan to get in the way of your inspiration. I simply need to observe and ask a few questions as we go along. I can be one of the guys just as much as Nick would be.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, sure you can.”

  She crossed her arms and a tinge of color crept from her neck to her face. “I assure you I’m qualified to handle the story.”

  Lex tried to ignore how the flush in her cheeks made her look even more enticing. She was off limits. Not only off limits but trying to force him into a miserable week of interviews and hiding the truth. “Are you now? What other bands have you done interviews with?”

  Her green eyes shifted away briefly. “I’m . . . just moving into the music portion of the magazine. I’ve been focusing on culinary articles up until now.”

  Lex let out a loud laugh and turned to Pete. “They sent the goddamned restaurant reviewer. Can you believe this crap? They must be on some major drugs if they expect me to spend a week with a food and wine debutante. She doesn’t even write about music.”

  Pete crossed the room and placed a hand on Lex’s shoulder. “Lex, calm down. Ms. Bordelon, I’m sorry. Lex is under a lot of pressure right now. He doesn’t mean to be so rude.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Do you always have your manager apologize for you, Mr. Logan?”

  “Only when the apology isn’t genuine,” Lex replied.

  She blew out a breath, clearly frustrated. “Fine. Look, I don’t want to argue. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, which is unfortunate. But, the fact of the matter is, you have a contract and I have a job to do.”

  “Can’t the magazine back out?” Lex asked. “Cancel the contract from that end?”

  “Sure, but we’re not going to do that. There’s too much buzz around you, Mr. Logan. Our readers are just dyin’ to know every little thing, and we won’t let them down.” Sarcasm oozed off her sweet southern accent.

  He smirked. “There are no little things about me, Ms. Bordelon. Just ask any of the girls out there.”

  She pressed her lips together in a hard line, but color appeared high on her cheeks. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

  Sure, she could be “just one of the guys.” She couldn’t even handle a dirty comment without getting flustered. Lex wet his lips. Okay, so he needed her to back out. Maybe getting her to do that would be fun. Based on her reactions so far, it certainly wouldn’t take long to get her annoyed enough to drop the whole thing. “Fine, Miz Bordelon, I’ll do the story. But I’m not adjusting anything to accommodate you. I’m going to do my thing, and you can follow us around. But just know, this ain’t a fine dining experience.”

  She gave him a bored look. “Yeah, I get it. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Don’t worry about me. You’ll hardly notice I’m there.”

  He grunted. Yeah, like that was possible.

  Pete put his hand out to Aubrey. “Thank you, Ms. Bordelon. We look forward to working with you. I’m sure the guys plan on sleeping late in the morning, but why don’t you stop by the studio tomorrow afternoon? They’ll be working on a few tracks for the next album.”

  She smiled and shook his hand. “Great, I’ll be there. Thanks, Pete.”

  She spun on her heel, ignoring Lex, and strutted out the door.

  Lex shook his head. Damn, she had a nice ass. Too bad there was such a big stick up it.

  Chapter 3

  Aubrey swirled the sweetener into her iced tea, watching it dissolve, wishing she could vanish as well.

  H
er mother huffed and set down the butter knife with a sharp clink. “Aubrey, you’ve barely said two words since we sat down. What’s the matter with you?”

  “I’m fine, just a little tired.” She placed her teaspoon on the white linen tablecloth and a light brown stain spread around it. Her head pounded from the combination of her late night and lack of morning coffee. “They have me covering for Nick at work.”

  Her mother pursed her lips. “That scraggly pothead?”

  Aubrey resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “He’s not a pothead. He’s a great journalist. And you only think he looks scraggly because his hair falls past his ears.”

  Okay, so Nick could be a pothead. He did have a fondness of burning incense in his office, but that was totally beside the point.

  “I call them like I see them, dear,” her mother said and nibbled a slice of French bread.

  The waiter placed bowls of soup in front of them. “Crawfish bisque. Our special of the day.”

  “Oh, we didn’t order soup,” Aubrey said.

  “Compliments of the chef,” he replied, smiling. “He was so happy with the review you did on the restaurant a few weeks ago, he wanted to say thank you. He’s getting the article framed.”

  Aubrey grinned. “Well, that’s great to hear. He earned it.”

  “Can I get you ladies anything else right now?”

  “No, thank you. We’re great,” Aubrey’s mother said, waving him off. She waited until he walked away and then frowned across the table at Aubrey. “So if you’re filling in for Nick, does this mean you’re going to all those seedy bars in the French Quarter to watch bands?”

  Aubrey nodded as she blew on a spoonful of bisque. “Mm-hmm.”

  “So that’s why you look like hell.”

  “Gee, thanks, Mom.”

  Her mother’s expression was unapologetic. “I don’t know if I like the idea of you going alone downtown late at night. You’re not drinking, are you?”

  Aubrey groaned. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

  Her mother pinned her with a pointed stare.

  “Mom, you know I haven’t had alcohol in a decade. Plus, last night was probably the only concert I’ll have to go to. I’m doing an exclusive in-depth thing with this one band, so I’ll pretty much be following them around for the next week.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll still be available for your father’s campaign event tomorrow night.”

  Crap. She’d forgotten about that. “Um, yeah, sure. I’ll figure something out.”

  Aubrey dropped her gaze, shoveled soup into her mouth, and started planning a good last-minute excuse to bail on the party so that she could spend time with the band instead of her parents’ stuffy friends.

  “Good, because I have a little surprise for you,” her mother said in a singsong voice. Aubrey glanced up and her mother’s eyebrows rose into a devious arch.

  “Oh no,” Aubrey groaned. “Don’t give me that face. That’s the face you gave me when you set me up with Milton Robard the freshman homecoming dance.”

  She smiled with feigned innocence. “What? He was a nice boy from a good family.”

  “He was a nose-picker with Cool Ranch Dorito breath.”

  She laughed. “Okay fine, but this surprise is definitely better.”

  The waiter came by and dropped off their salads. Aubrey slid her soup bowl to the side and stabbed a tomato on her salad plate.

  “Just tell me now. I hate surprises.” Not totally true. She only hated surprises orchestrated by Del Bordelon. Her mother meant well, but had a knack for putting her in the most awkward circumstances.

  “Grayson is back in town.”

  Aubrey’s fork stalled halfway to her mouth. Her mother could’ve said rogue hogs had just invaded the restaurant to demand pork be taken off the menu; that would’ve shocked her less. She placed her fork back on her plate, every muscle in her neck and shoulders seizing up.

  Del leaned across the table and patted Aubrey’s hand. “Isn’t that great news?”

  Aubrey took a deep breath, trying to release the tension in her muscles. She kept her tone even. “We haven’t spoken in five years. Why should I care?”

  “Now what kind of attitude is that? He went off to get his MBA and a job. You can’t blame him for that.” She pointed her fork at Aubrey. “And he’s still single.”

  Aubrey shoved in a mouthful of salad. She didn’t want to talk about Gray, especially not with her mother. She’d closed the door on that hurt and didn’t plan to open it again.

  “He’s coming to the benefit tomorrow night. He asked me if you were going to be there.”

  “I probably can’t go. I have to work,” Aubrey mumbled, mouth still full.

  Her mother shook her head. “No, you’re going to have to figure something out. It’s important to your father that the whole family is there to support him. What would people think if his own daughter didn’t show up?”

  “That his daughter has a job.”

  The waiter stopped by and asked if they needed anything else.

  Aubrey had lost her appetite. “No, just the check.”

  Her mother folded her cloth napkin into a sharp-cornered square and then placed it on the table. “Your father and I expect you to be there. It’s the least you can do. Please don’t disappoint us.”

  Aubrey sighed. She knew this game too well. It was one she would never be able to win. She’d earned her lifelong ride on this guilt trip train. “Fine. I’ll figure out a way to be there.”

  ***

  Aubrey slipped into the control room right as Wanderlust’s lead guitarist launched into a frenetic solo. At least, it looked frenetic. She couldn’t hear a thing through the large soundproof glass, but his fingers moved as fast as lightning and his tongue was stuck out the corner of his mouth in concentration. Lex had his head bowed with his fingers laced behind his neck as if listening carefully.

  Pete was the only one in the control room. He removed his headphones and placed them on top of an electronic panel that rivaled the control deck of an airplane.

  “Ms. Bordelon, I’m so glad you could make it.” He turned one of the many knobs, adjusted a dial, and then stood to shake her hand.

  She smiled. “Please, call me Aubrey. Is this a good time?”

  “Sure, as good as any. They’re just figuring out some songs.” He pointed to the chair next to his. “Have a seat. There’s an extra headset for you so that you can listen in. Just try not to hit any dials or switches.”

  She set down her bag and sat. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to inadvertently send a missile to North Korea or something.”

  He laughed, and they both slipped on their headphones. As soon as they touched her ears, she jumped from the piercing volume of the guitar riff. Pete noticed and leaned across her to adjust a volume knob. He mouthed a cringing “Sorry.” She waved off the apology and turned toward the window, ears still ringing a bit, to watch the band.

  The guitarist finished his solo and then turned his attention to Lex, an expectant look on his face. “So?”

  Lex lifted his head, frown lines deep. “Sean, it’s good, but how does that match the rest of the song? It’s supposed to be dark, and you went all Eddie Van Halen on me.”

  Sean blinked as if he hadn’t heard right and then his expression clouded. “Okay, so let me get this straight. Now I’m not good enough because I sound too legendary? I’m fucking over this. Screw you, man.”

  “You’re seriously doing this right now?” Lex asked with a cutting glare.

  Sean hauled his guitar strap off his shoulder and plopped into a nearby chair with his arms crossed. His spiked blond hair seemed to turn whiter as his face reddened. “Maybe it’s your damn lyrics. Ever thought of that? With tracks like these, we could call the next album Songs to Hang Yourself By. It’s not us. We’re not that kind of band.
That’s not what our fans want.”

  Lex threw his hands out to his sides. “Well, by all means, if you’re so enlightened as to what the fans want, why don’t you get off your ass and write the goddamned lyrics yourself? Show me how simple it is.”

  “Fine,” Sean snapped. “Maybe I will.”

  Lex turned his back and dragged his hands through his dark hair. When he raised his head, his eyes locked with Aubrey’s and widened.

  She bit her lip, realizing she’d witnessed something Lex hadn’t wanted her to see. Last night she’d Googled the band and pored over articles to prepare for the interviews. In the media, the guys projected the image of being as tight-knit as brothers. If they were a band in turmoil, that would be big news. A big story. Front-cover material. An almost guaranteed promotion for her. She lifted her hand and waved her fingers in a silent greeting.

  “Hell, Pete, you think you could’ve mentioned that the reporter was here?” Lex barked.

  Pete bent forward and pressed a switch that was next to a small microphone, his stringy hair falling over his eyes. “I couldn’t really get a word in with all the yelling.”

  Lex shot daggers at Pete. Then he flipped his expression and turned a devastating smile Aubrey’s way. “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Ms. Bordelon. We’re just messing around, you know? Getting the creative juices flowing. We would’ve watched our language if we knew there was a lady present, right, guys?”

  The others grumbled and nodded half-heartedly.

  She didn’t buy one bit of that lame explanation. He could give a flying crap about cursing in front of her. He was trying to cover his perfectly muscled butt. She moved toward the microphone. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just one of the guys this week, remember?”

  He smirked. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. In that case, boys, let’s get our asses back to work.”

  Pete flicked the microphone switch off as Lex directed the guys to try the first verse again. The calm tone of his voice seemed forced, and the band looked about as enthusiastic as a group of kids reporting for detention. Aubrey pulled her headphones off and tapped Pete. He lifted one side of his headset off his ear.