She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the drastic change in the scenery that was now speeding past outside her window. The mansions of Beverly Hills and the commercial buildings of Sunset Boulevard had given way to trees and mountains and winding dirt roads.
Donna parked the SUV in a post-and-beam-fenced clearing.
“Where are we?”
“We’re as close as we can get to being in the Smoky Mountains without hopping on a plane,” her mom answered, getting out of the car.
Lark watched with wide eyes as her mother shed her trench coat to reveal a loose-fitting cotton camp shirt and an old pair of blue jeans. It was an outfit Lark recognized . . . she’d often worn it on the weekends back in Tennessee.
“Boots are in the trunk,” said Donna, kicking off her pricey flats and tiptoeing toward the back of the car. “I hope yours still fit.”
Lark understood at once. Tugging off her own shoes, she leaped out of the car and joined her mother at the hatchback.
They were going hiking!
“It’s magnificent,” said Donna, gazing out over the vista of rolling hills and tree-lined valleys. “I’m so glad I took the afternoon off.”
“So am I,” said Lark, inhaling deeply and letting the fresh mountain air fill her lungs. They’d been trekking the trails of Franklin Canyon Park for almost two hours and, although her leg muscles ached and her cheeks and nose were burned pink, Lark couldn’t have been happier. She settled herself on a large rock beside her mother and pulled in another refreshingly clean breath. “We haven’t hiked since . . .”
“Since your father and I split up,” her mother finished softly. There was a ripple of sadness—or maybe guilt—beneath her words. “Remember that week we camped at Pigeon Forge?”
“Best camping trip ever!” said Lark. “Dad brought his guitar along.”
“Of course he did! When did we ever go anywhere and your father didn’t bring his guitar along?”
“True. But in Pigeon Forge he played by the campfire every night and all the other families who were camping nearby would wander over to join us for a big sing-along.”
“Right,” said Donna. “I seem to recall I swore if I heard ‘Kumbaya’ one more time, I’d go jump in the lake.”
“But you didn’t have to jump in the lake, ’cause Daddy threw you in! With all your clothes on! Then he jumped in after you with his clothes on and so did I!”
“Yes!” said Donna, laughing. “We looked like three lunatics. Three sopping wet lunatics.” She shook her head, smiling at the memory. “It was a great trip.”
“Sure was.” Lark admired the sun, which was softening to a pinkish hue as it sank toward the distant hilltops. “I wish . . .” But since she wasn’t exactly certain what she was wishing for, she finished the thought with a shrug.
Donna reached over and took her daughter’s hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to do anything fun lately, honey. But getting the record label off the ground has required my full attention.”
“I know, Mom. It’s okay.”
“Tell you what. How about we try to come here at least once a month. I’ll make time. We can hike, or just bring a picnic and have dinner while the sun sets. It’s no Pigeon Forge, but it will still be nice.”
“It will.” Lark leaned over to kiss her mother’s cheek. “It’ll be real nice.”
For a moment they just sat quietly, enjoying the view in companionable silence.
“That song Aidan stole from you,” Donna broached at last. “It’s awfully good.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
“Does it make me a horrible mother to say that I had no idea you were quite so talented?”
“Not at all!” It was Lark’s turn to sound guilty. “It’s my fault for not sharing my music with you. I just get so self-conscious.”
“Hmmm.” Donna gave her a teasing look. “You didn’t look especially self-conscious when I saw you walking out of school with Teddy. Maybe that boy brings out the best in you.”
“I guess he does,” Lark admitted. “In fact, I’m going to play backup guitar for him in the school talent show in a few weeks.”
“Lark, that’s wonderful! Although in my opinion you’re far too gifted to be playing backup for anyone. You should be right up front, playing and singing lead vocals.”
“I appreciate your confidence, Mom,” said Lark with a sigh. “But I’m not really a ‘lead vocals’ kind of girl. I’m happy to let other people enjoy the spotlight. Just playing backup for Teddy is taking all the guts I can muster.”
Donna gave Lark’s hand a squeeze. “I suppose you have to walk before you can run. And the fact that you’re performing in public at all means you’re getting over your stage fright!”
“Well, not completely,” Lark clarified. “I’ll play, but I’m not going to actually sing. Except Teddy did talk me into doing a little ‘na-na-na-ing’ with him.”
“Na-na-na-ing?” her mother suddenly looked wary. “What’s that? Some new euphemism for making out?”
“Mom!” Lark’s eyes went round and her face turned red. “No! It has nothing to do with . . . snogging.”
“Snogging! What in the world is snogging?”
“Kissing. According to Max. But I promise you, there is absolutely nothing like that going on between Teddy and me. The na-na-nas are in the chorus of the song he’s singing in the talent show. I’m going to harmonize with him. Maybe. If I don’t chicken out.”
Donna let out a sigh of relief. Then she smiled. “Getting back to that song of yours. It really is good. So good, in fact, that I have a business proposition for you. I wanted to record it when I thought Aidan wrote it, and I still want to. It would be a perfect addition to Abbey Road’s first album.”
Lark’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kiddin’ me.”
“I never kid about business, sweet pea,” her mother said with a wink.
“You don’t think it’s too country for them?”
“Well, we might need to make it a bit more pop-y, but there’s a lot of cross-over happening these days. I think it’s an interesting creative risk. Shows they’ve got range. And by the way, this would be an official business transaction, which means you’ll be paid for the rights, and even earn a royalty.”
“Royalties? Honest?”
Donna nodded.
“Can I use the money to buy a car when I turn sixteen?”
“Well, let’s see about that when the time comes.”
“Maybe I can use the extra money to fly back to Tennessee a lot more often!”
“You could definitely do that,” said Donna. “Seeing that ‘Homesick’ video made me realize how deeply you’ve been missing Nashville.”
“So you won’t mind if I try to visit Dad more?”
“Of course I won’t mind. Although, you might not have to. At least not right away.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard from your father this morning. His tour has been extended and he’s coming to the West Coast. He’ll be in California for three whole weeks next month.”
For a moment, Lark didn’t speak. She didn’t move. Then, with a happy squeal she sprang up from the rock and began to dance around, singing at the top of her lungs:
“Kumbaya, my lord, kumbaya . . .”
Her joyful voice echoed over the treetops and across the canyon, its lilting echo filling the darkening sky.
Donna laughed, grasping the back of Lark’s shirt to keep her from dancing herself off a cliff. “Okay, darlin’, I think you’ve breathed in enough fresh air for now. Time to head back to civilization.”
But as they made their way back to the hiking trail, her mother was singing, too.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
The next several days went by smoothly enough, thanks to the fact that Aidan was gone. Max and Ollie had a true friendship, and a mutual respect for each other’s talents. Without the tension created by Aidan’s moodiness and jealousy, it was easier for Lark and Donna t
o get to know their British houseguests, and the more time they spent together, the more they all liked one another. Mrs. Fitzpatrick adored them so much, she let them get away with calling her Fitzy—and taught herself to make English-style fish and chips.
While Lark was off at school, the boys met with Jas at his dance studio and learned complicated dance routines, with the choreographer standing in as the nameless “third band member.” In the evenings they rehearsed in the music room, minus their keyboard player, which wasn’t particularly effective. Lark filled in when her homework allowed, but that was hardly a permanent solution; she was a passable pianist, but as Teddy had pointed out, Aidan was a tough act to follow.
“The situation is getting desperate,” Donna said at the breakfast table on Monday morning. Max and Ollie were sleeping in, so it was just Lark and her mother, picking at Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s slightly strange mustard and mushroom omelets. “I’ve already got the studio booked for the band’s first recording session and we’re short one musician,” Donna continued. “I can’t cancel, because the booking is non-refundable. I’m afraid the only thing that makes sense is to fly back to London this week to audition new band members.”
“London,” Lark echoed wistfully, spearing a potato and popping it into her mouth. “That’s exciting.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Donna’s fingernails tapped the sides of her coffee mug as she sighed over the rim. “But it’s also very expensive, not to mention time-consuming.”
“Well,” said Lark, “why should you fly all the way to England when we’ve got Fitzy’s fish ’n’ chips right here in our own kitchen.”
When Donna looked at her daughter as though she’d lost her mind, Lark laughed.
“In other words, you don’t need to go to England to replace Aidan. There are thousands of talented teenage boys right here in LA.”
Her mother considered this. “You know, you’re absolutely right. I was thinking that the third band member had to be British, but that’s not written in blood, is it?”
Lark grinned. “Nope.”
“Maybe we’ve just been given a unique opportunity here,” Donna said, her enthusiasm growing. “Most boy bands are either all British or all American. But what if we thought outside the box and combined British and American talent? It would appeal to fans on both sides of the Atlantic. That would be groundbreaking, right?”
“Right!” said Lark.
Now her mother shifted into music mogul mode. “I’ll put out an ad for an open call and we can hold the audition on Saturday. Most of our candidates will be school age, after all, so there’s no point in trying to do it on a weekday. I’m sure Jasper will let us use his studio. And of course he’ll be part of the selection process.” She gave Lark’s shoulder a squeeze. “And since it was your idea, it’s only right that you are, too!”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you can help me with the auditions. You’re a brilliant songwriter, so you know talent when you hear it, and you also happen to be a card-carrying member of our target demographic. Oh, and let’s invite Mimi, too. That girl’s got a terrific eye when it comes to this sort of thing.”
Lark felt a tingle of excitement. “Thanks, Mom! That’ll be fun.”
With her satin robe floating behind her like a superhero’s cape, Donna dashed to her office to begin making arrangements. Lark wondered briefly if perhaps she should have consulted with Max and Ollie before making such an important decision, but she knew that once her mother got an idea in her head, it was difficult to get her to change her mind.
Luckily, this idea happened to be a good one.
On Saturday, Lark, Mimi, Donna, and the remaining two members of Abbey Road arrived at Jasper’s studio to find rock-star hopefuls lined up around the block. It seemed as if every teenage boy in California who’d ever had a music lesson had turned out for the audition.
“Look at them all!” said Mimi, waggling her eyebrows. “You know, I’ve had dreams like this.”
Ollie laughed.
Inside, Jas led them to a large room with high ceilings, wooden floors, and an entire wall of mirrors. He and Donna organized the candidates in the hallway, signing them in and collecting headshots and résumés from those who had them. Mimi quickly set up her video camera on a tripod, while Lark got the music system ready and Ollie and Max warmed up their voices, in case Donna wanted them to sing with anyone. Max set up the electronic keyboard for the boys to play.
Then the six of them sat down at a long table and Donna called out, “Let’s begin!”
A boy who looked to be about fourteen stepped into the studio and closed the door behind him.
“The first victim,” Max whispered to Lark.
“Shh!” Lark bit back a giggle.
“I feel like a TV talent-show judge!” said Mimi.
Donna consulted the paperwork spread out on the table. “You’re Danny Toliver?”
The boy nodded. He had longish, sandy-blond hair and big brown eyes, broad shoulders, and full lips. He certainly looked like a pop star.
Donna nodded to Lark, then Mimi, who began filming.
“Ready, Danny?” asked Lark, feeling indescribably important.
Danny nodded and Lark hit the Play button. The intro to a ballad filled the space. Danny sang the first verse.
He was fabulous! His voice was sweet and raspy and he made such intense eye contact with Lark that her heart began to race. She could easily imagine legions of screaming girls chasing this boy down the street.
When he finished singing, “the judging panel” applauded.
“Very nice, Danny,” said Donna, making some notes.
“Do you have any dance experience?” Jas inquired.
Danny Toliver gave them the cockiest grin Lark had ever seen. “Nothing formal,” he said, “but I’ve got some moves.”
“Let’s see them then, mate,” urged Ollie, reaching across Lark to once again cue the music.
Danny’s “moves” looked less like a dance combination than the reaction of a person in the throes of being electrocuted! His arms shot out, then darted back in, jerking and flailing with no respect for tempo whatsoever, while his legs quivered and his head bobbled. Then he began to spin, faster and faster.
“He looks like somebody put him in a blender,” Mimi observed under her breath.
“I’m getting seasick just watching him,” quipped Ollie.
In a show of mercy, Jasper hit the Off button. The music stopped instantaneously, but unfortunately it took Danny Toliver a little longer to come to a halt, which he did by colliding with the tripod. Both dancer and camera went crashing to the ground.
Mimi let out a yelp and ran to check on her most prized possession. Donna ran to check on Danny.
“Are you hurt?”
“Hurt?” Danny looked up from the floor and gave her that cocky smile. “No way. That’s what rock ’n’ roll is all about.”
“That’s what safety helmets are all about,” murmured Ollie. “But hey, I say sign him up. He actually makes my dancing look good.”
Donna let out a heavy sigh. “Next!” she called.
The second boy introduced himself as Nick Campanelli. Nick was a dark-haired, god-like young man, with rippling muscles and chiseled features. His personality was a flirtatious mix of shyness and charm.
And his voice . . . his voice . . .
“Is he singing?” Max whispered. “Or has his appendix just burst?”
“Next!”
After Nick came Miles; after Miles came Caleb; after Caleb came Ethan; and after every single one of them came Donna’s voice shouting out, “Next!”
And with every shout, the hopes of the judging panel dropped a little bit more.
By the time they got to Jared Bleeth, Donna had begun to sound panicked.
Jared Bleeth was an athletic fifteen-year-old whose voice was nothing short of a miracle. He could shift from rock to opera without missing a beat. He was a keyboard prodigy, and he’d studied every form of danc
e from ballet to hip-hop since he was old enough to walk. On top of that, with his twinkling blue eyes and light-brown curls, Jared Bleeth was almost too handsome to look at.
“That smile,” breathed Mimi. “It’s dazzling.”
“It’s like looking directly into the sun,” Lark agreed.
When Jared finished his song, Donna quickly consulted with the others, then leaped to her feet. “Bravo!” she exclaimed, clapping. “Jared, welcome to Abbey Road.”
“Really?” Jared knocked them out with his stunning smile. “That’s awesome. I just have one concern.”
“What’s that, mate?” asked Ollie.
“Well, I won’t be able to record during the last few weeks of January.”
“Oh, we can work around your schedule,” Donna assured him. “I assume you’ve got school commitments?”
“Not exactly,” said Jared. “I just need to be at home to, you know, prepare.”
“Prepare for what?” asked Max.
“Dude, haven’t you heard? They’ve deciphered a prehistoric calendar, which predicts a ninety-eight-point-five percent probability that aliens from an as-yet undiscovered planet will attack the earth in the middle of February. I’ll need at least a few weeks to get ready for battle. I’m gonna kick some interplanetary butt!”
Mimi’s mouth dropped open. Ollie shook his head and Max groaned and covered his face with his hands. Donna and Jas exchanged looks of disbelief, while Lark held her breath, waiting for the punch line.
But there wasn’t one. Jared clearly believed every word he’d said, which meant that despite his sizzling good looks and heart-melting singing voice, Jared Bleeth was also a total nut job!
Lark let out her breath in a heavy sigh of disappointment. And six desperate and exhausted voices called out in unison:
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