Hard Rock Fling: A Rock Star Romance
Page 4
"Yes, that's right." Janet sounded irritated, but I pressed on.
"I think there may be a problem."
She huffed out an impatient sigh. "Yes?"
"There's another band doing the same concept," I rushed out. "I was researching trends in fashion and music." Yeah, let's go with that excuse. "The rock band Feral Silence came out with a new album. The themes are very similar."
Her expression turned no-nonsense. "Explain."
"Their album has to do with types of relationships. First love, casual sex, soulmates, that kind of thing."
A crease appeared between her brows. "That is similar."
"Everyone knows Darkest Days and Feral Silence are rivals. If they put out an album with the same theme, people will think they're copying."
The worried look on Janet's face told me she thought the same. "The marketing team won't like this. But there's no way August will change his vision. He's too stubborn."
"I was thinking. What if the theme was similar but the concept was different?"
"Themes and concepts are the same thing."
"Not always. I had an idea."
She scoffed. "It's not up to an intern to second guess the artist, Hope."
"But I think it could work," I insisted. Janet frowned at me and I hurried to get my idea in before she shut me down. "The concept should be the rise and fall of a relationship."
"Yes, well, thank you for your input, Hope, but I think—"
She was interrupted when a voice spoke up from behind me.
"Tell me more."
My heart jumped as I whirled around. The members of Darkest Days stood outside the door.
August, founder of the band, main composer, producer, and universally acknowledged musical genius, stared at me with piercing eyes. I gulped under that intense gaze.
Should I be flattered or nervous?
I flicked my eyes to the rest of the band. Noah's expression was aloof as always, but Cameron's interest was piqued.
Ian and Damon both had a playful quirk to their lips. The Twins wore dark sunglasses, but Ian's face brightened up when he saw me. Damon looked slightly annoyed. The difference was almost imperceptible.
The memory of Ian's almost-kiss nearly made me whimper. I coughed to cover it.
"You said you had a new idea for our concept?" August prompted.
I fought to make my voice work. After a shaky start, I made myself coherent.
"I don't know how much you heard, but Feral Silence's new album has themes similar to yours. I know your songs are set in stone, but the concept we use for the marketing can be re-worked. Instead of sex and love, the theme could be the rise and fall of a relationship. From early love to passionate conflict and painful parting to bitter heartbreak. Each member of the band can represent one stage of the relationship."
"How'd you come up with that?" Cameron's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. At least one member of the band liked my idea.
"I thought about the meaning of the album, and the feelings you were trying to put into the songs. When I tried to come up with how each band member might fit into that, it came to me all at once."
"You only gave four stages," Ian and Damon said at the same time. "There's five of us." They tilted their heads in unison.
"You two are both the conflict stage. One is the passionate fighting, one is the—" I cleared my throat and tried not to stutter, "—the passionate makeup sex. Like a yin-yang sort of thing."
"And which one is which?" they both said.
I nearly blushed at Ian's seductive smirk. Before I could answer, Janet interrupted.
"Thank you very much for your input, Hope, but that's enough wasting time. We have a meeting in a few minutes."
They weren't going to listen to my idea. I wanted to melt into an embarrassed puddle on the floor. I also wanted to throw my hands up in frustration.
"I like it."
I blinked at August in surprise.
"Do you always keep this up to date on industry trends?" he asked.
"I try to."
"Hope is an intern in the Product Development department," Janet said dismissively.
"I've got a degree in Fine Arts," I blurted out. I regretted it the moment the words left my lips. They wouldn't care what I went to school for.
"An artist, huh?" Ian said.
"You the creative type?" Damon continued.
"Spend your days painting masterpieces?"
"Gonna be the next Picasso?"
"Should we be getting your autograph?"
"Um. No. I just make sure your clothes aren't wrinkled before you go on stage."
They both snickered.
"Damian. What do you think?" August asked, inclining his head towards me.
The Twins gave me considering looks. They both shared a quick glance at each other, communicating without words.
"We say yes." They both spoke at the same time.
"Cameron? Noah?"
"Why the hell not?" Cameron grinned.
"Whatever," Noah muttered.
"Alright. I think we're done here." August said
"Yes, let's move on and get the meeting started," Janet said briskly.
My insides went cold. They were going to just dismiss me.
August shook his head. "I meant I'm calling off the meeting. There's nothing to discuss anymore." He looked me up and down, a considering stare. He nodded once to himself.
"We found our Image Consultant."
I froze, my mind going blank. I couldn't comprehend the words coming out of August's mouth. "What?"
"Your idea is brilliant," August continued. "The exact kind of thinking we need."
Janet opened her mouth to speak as if to interrupt, but August spoke right over her.
"This new album is going to be a great undertaking. Every ad, every photoshoot, every music video, needs to convey the right feeling. The right image. We need someone to work on our promotional campaign to make sure everything is consistent. To make sure our concept is conveyed in everything we do."
"Like a continuity editor." Ian said.
"I don't know what that means," I confessed.
"It's like when you're producing a TV show," he explained. "Or movie. If the actor is wearing blue jeans and white sneakers when the director calls cut for the day, the continuity editor makes sure they're wearing the same thing when they pick up filming three days later."
"That's only half of it," August said. "We don't just need someone to oversee everything. We need someone creative. We need someone who can take the feelings and meanings of our songs and bring them to life. Someone who can bring our metaphorical ideals into the physical world. Someone who can reduce a concept to visual icons. We need an Image Consultant."
"We need a miracle worker," Noah interjected with a mutter and a snort.
They needed a miracle worker, alright. Taking metaphors and making them physical? My mouth went dry. There was no way I could do something like that.
Was there?
"Shouldn't the marketing department have people to do all that?" I asked. "Wardrobe Stylists and Branding Specialists or whatever."
"They're overworked dealing with all of Etude's other artists," Cameron replied. "We can rely on them to help, but we need one person concentrating solely on our album release."
"And I want that person to be you," August added.
Image Consultant. Me. Darkest Days, one of the hottest rock bands to debut in years, wanted some nobody intern to work with them to develop their image and brand for their new album. It was too overwhelming. Some part of me wanted to object and turn them down on the spot.
But another part of me started to buzz with excitement. Taking the thoughts and feelings of rock stars and making them real? I would have to use all my artistic skills. It would force me to stretch my abilities to the breaking point. If I pulled it off, I could say I helped create one of the most successful, most creative, album releases in years.
Ian pushed his sunglasses up until they reste
d on the top of his head. He scanned me up and down slowly, undressing me with his eyes. That carnal stare, that wicked grin, told me his mind was filling with dirty thoughts.
The lump of fear and worry in my gut melted away, something else taking its place. Something hot. Something hungry. The look in Ian's eyes was unlocking something deep inside me. I wanted to know exactly what sort of dirty things he was thinking. I wanted him to tell me. To show me.
As long as I kept my heart guarded against his charm, surely there was no harm in letting him flirt with me. And perhaps more.
"It sounds like a challenge."
If I took this job, maybe I'd get the chance.
"I'm in."
Chapter Seven
As a Darkest Days fan, sitting in on a jam session was a dream come true. I was allowed to watch the band practice their songs a few more times before recording a final version. For inspiration, August had said.
It was infinitely better than seeing them perform on stage. During a concert you were stuck behind a barrier lined with bodyguards. You were lucky if you got close enough to see their faces and were forced to listen through booming, staticky speakers.
Watching the guys sing and play in person was breathtaking. It was so raw, so real. They didn't need to put on their rock star personas to win over fans. They could be themselves.
I quickly learned what being themselves actually meant. They didn't have to act like bad ass sex gods. They were a bunch of rowdy, twenty-something boys playing around and making music with their friends.
Ian and Damon were nearly uncontrollable. They wouldn't sit still, dashing from one corner of the room to the other, jumping up on tables and kicking over chairs with bursts of laughter.
They finished one particularly intense and awe-inspiring dueling guitar solo, then lifted their instruments high above their heads, as if prepared to swing them down.
"No— Wait—!" several assistants cried, not wanting The Twins to smash up another pair of guitars.
They snickered and lowered the instruments, giving each other a fist bump.
"Damian, chill the fuck out and play your goddamn instruments."
August spoke the admonishing words with a slight smile, so I knew he wasn't angry with them. Mildly annoyed, perhaps, but indulgent in the way a parent would be.
"You're supposed to be professionals. Gifted with ungodly talent. Stop acting like three year olds hopped up on sugar."
"Where's the fun in that?" They both said at the same time, grinning.
I was surprised to see August much more animated than usual. Of course, that was because he had to act the tyrant and herd the other band members.
It made me wonder how old August was. Aside from Cameron and his sometimes-baby face, August looked the youngest, but acted like the oldest. Being a universally acknowledged musical genius probably matured a person.
Noah sang with a fiery passion, growling low in his chest. In the quiet moments between words his eyebrows drew down into a frown. The lead singer was wound up, muscles tense with a scowl on his face. Then the lyrics picked up again and he let loose, switching between erotic crooning and despondent wailing. Noah didn't look upset at anything in particular — except when Cameron started bugging him.
"You keep frowning like a grumpy old man, your face is gonna to stay like that," Cameron said in a mocking tone.
Noah glared at Cameron, who just laughed and looked down at his bass guitar, pretending to focus on the music. Noah's dark expression should have been disconcerting. Instead, it was oddly endearing. Like a kitten with his fur puffed up.
I made sure to keep that thought to myself. I was sure Noah would murder me if he knew I compared him to an angry kitten.
There were a handful of other interns attending the recording sessions, mostly from social media and public relations, taking candid behind-the-scenes photos and videos of the band for promotional material.
Whoever hired the interns didn't do a good job weeding out the obsessive fangirls. They giggled and blushed, cooing at whomever paid them the most attention.
I sat in a corner as far away from the action as I could, not wanting to be a disturbance. I was there to get a better feel for their music, to help my creative process.
I shouldn't have bothered. Ian's eyes were constantly on mine, always flicking to me in the quiet moments between his antics. He would throw me an irresistible look, eyes twinkling with sinful glee, and make provocative innuendos meant only for me.
I ignored him as best as I could, not wanting to encourage him. The interns pouted and glared at me whenever Ian made a comment and doubled their efforts to gain his attention. The last thing I needed was jealous colleagues.
The other band members paid it no mind, clearly used to Ian's flirtations. Except for Damon. Whenever he noticed Ian's teasing and my flushed cheeks, his lips twisted in a mildly disgruntled expression. I wondered why. Was it because I was only showing interest in his brother? Clearly most other girls, especially fans and groupies, didn't care whether they snagged Damon or Ian. Either one of The Twins was good enough. Was Damon jealous I wasn't interested in him, too?
Too bad. Damon would have to learn not all girls would fall over themselves to be around him.
Of course, I doubted he would learn that lesson today. Whenever the girls sidled up next to Ian he gave them teasing smiles but didn't engage in his usual excessive flirting. The disappointment on their faces only lasted as long as it took for them to turn their attention to Ian's brother instead. Damon, of course, basked in their adoration. He reached out to stroke their hair and whispered things in their ears that made them blush. Clearly, it didn't matter to them which half of Damian flirted with them.
Not all of them acted like that, though. At least a handful were there to do their actual jobs.
"Damian!" One of the PR girls held up her phone in a questioning gesture. "Can you guys pose next to each other with your guitars?"
They both reveled in the attention, throwing their arms over each other's shoulders and facing the girl.
She pursed her lips. "No, that's not quite right. Can you both move your feet so you're in the same position? And you're not holding your guitars the same way. Can you mimic each other's fingers on the fret board?"
They both complied, shuffling their limbs. The girl raised her phone to her face, then lowered it with a shake of her head.
"It's still not symmetrical. I need you guys to be posed the exact same."
Ian stiffened minutely, his lightly amused expression frozen on his face. Damon hugged his twin with a squeeze around his shoulder.
"Got it," Damon said. "One person, two bodies, right?"
"Exactly."
Ian's expression grew dark for a brief moment. I sat up in my chair, worried. Then his face smoothed out, mirroring his twin's and shifting his body. "Does this work for you?"
"Perfect!" The girl snapped picture after picture, but was quick about it, only taking up ten seconds of their time. She moved on to the next one. "Noah! Give me a sexy glare."
Noah jerked in surprise, his usual glower softening. The girl shook her head.
"No, not that look. The other one. Like you're pissed off."
Cameron immediately flung himself at Noah, clinging to him and ruffling his hair. "This'll get him all worked up."
"Get the fuck off," Noah grumbled, elbowing Cameron in the ribs.
The bassist laughed and bounced away. "There you go babe, one pissed off look."
The camera snapped a dozen times. Noah glared at Cameron's retreating back.
"Perfect! August, you're next."
Ian detangled himself from his brother, his expression clouded again. He murmured something into Damon's ear, nodding his head towards the door. He lifted his arms up high, stretching as he walked out of the room. The motion made his t-shirt ride up, exposing a stripe of toned abs and a line of dusky hair leading to…
My heart beat faster. I glanced away, not wanting to get caught staring.
The band set up to start another song. Ian was still gone.
"Hey guys, hold up a minute," Damon said.
"Where's your bro?" Cameron asked.
"Went to get a coffee. Said he needed a breather."
"Why don't we all take twenty?" August suggested. "We've been at this for a while."
"I'll go find him and let him know there's no rush," Damon said.
"No, let me." I jumped up without thinking. "I, uh, I need a coffee, too. I'm sure I'll run into him."
August nodded. Noah didn't even acknowledge I was alive. Cameron, on the other hand, gave me a smirk so wide it was alarming. And Damon…
Damon was trying to set me on fire with his eyes alone.
Chapter Eight
Alarmed at the look Damon gave me, I quickly glanced away and scurried out with a mumbled excuse.
I didn't want a coffee. I wanted to find Ian by myself. I was worried about him. He'd been upset when he left, and I didn't think anyone else had noticed.
Ian wasn't waiting in line at the coffee shop on the first floor of the building. I didn't think he'd have enough time to go across the street to the cafe. I gave up and made my way back up to the practice studio, feeling dejected.
I was relieved to step out of the elevator and run into him on his way back.
"Hey! I was looking for you."
I expected him to crack a joke, insinuating I was looking for him for naughty reasons. Instead he appeared startled, eyes wide and glassy.
"H-hey," he stammered. He clutched at his wrist cuff, playing with the buckles again. There was a small patch of white sticking out from underneath. Like gauze. I was immediately concerned. I reached for his wrist.
"Did you hurt yourself?"
He pulled back with a jolt. I blinked, confused.
"No, I—" he paused for a moment, gathering himself together. "Just a scratch. The maintenance guys should fix those hand dryers in the men's washroom. They're all sharp edges."