Beautiful Series Boxset, books 1-4

by Lilliana Anderson

  The day I met you

  Your eyes piercing blue

  All thought left me

  I recall perfectly

  Your hair stood on end

  As you spoke with your friend

  And I stopped moving

  She closes her eyes, her violin held down at her side as she loses herself in the words. The audience is perfectly quiet. They’re loving it. I know they are.

  Come to me tonight

  Come to me

  You’re everything I could want

  Come to me tonight

  Come to me

  Nothing will keep me from you, you, you…

  She lowers her voice so the last line is practically a whisper into the microphone ‘except you, my love’.

  The pitch of the song changes as the music speeds up and becomes more intense as my part to sing comes up. As I sing, I’m building towards the chorus hoping to God that everyone else in the band comes in and plays it with me.

  Gather around

  Listen to my sound

  As I lose my mind night after night

  You scream out your love

  And take part of me

  I strum at my guitar as I play the break between the verses. It’s an angry sound, completely at odds to the melodic picking that accompanies Naomi’s vocals. The music feels like it’s taking over me as I lean back from the microphone and sing a type of moan that leads into the next verse.

  Gather and cry

  What I sing is a lie

  It sounds like the truth

  I speak love, you need proof

  Perhaps you’ll forgive me

  But I hate, who I am, who I am

  Thankfully, the band doesn’t let me down. Relief washes over me the moment I hear Theo come in on the drums at the exact moment Naomi comes in on her violin.

  I want to recall, the words you whisper to me.

  Recall, the way your eyes see right through me

  I want to recall, who you are

  I want to remember

  I want to recall, the words you whisper to me.

  Recall, the way your eyes see right through me

  I want to be, what you want

  But I’m not who you want

  There’s a long musical climax to the song, as our instruments meld in a cacophony that tells a tale of woe and confusion. I harmonise my voice with the music the same way the original song does, by singing loud ‘La’s and ‘No’s along with the clamour that rises and peters out slowly, ending with Lachlan playing on his bass on his own.

  Everything is quiet, but for the sound of that bass, his fingers plucking out those notes, the sound filling the stadium, like the buzzing of an uncontrolled emotion. The moment he stops, I suck in my breath. The crowd roars. Yes. I race over to Naomi and grab the hand she’s holding her bow in and hold it up over her head. They roar even louder.

  As we look at each other grinning, the excitement of the night takes over me, and I grab hold of her face, capturing her mouth with mine. Somehow the crowd finds a way to become even louder, spurring me on as I drive my tongue into her mouth and work it against hers.

  Even over the noise, I can feel the vibration from her body as she hums into my mouth. I’ve wanted to kiss her for as long as I’ve known her. But I’ve never felt it was the right time. I’ve never really had the guts to cross that line with her. But tonight, everything seems perfect, and I just can’t help myself.

  When I release her, I smile again, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before returning to my microphone.

  “Thank you,” I call over their screams. “That’s us finished for tonight. But the people you came to see, Radio Silence, will be out here in just a few moments.”

  We all head off the stage to the tune of the crowd cheering for us, making our way through the backstage crew congratulating us on a great show until we make it to our dressing room.

  The second we’re in there, Theo turns on me. “What the fuck was that?” he roars, shoving me in the chest with both hands.

  “Genius,” I say, moving my weight toward him. “You could see how much they loved her out there. I was just giving them what they wanted. They went nuts after every song Naomi sang and played in. They loved It’s a Crime, and they loved Then You Were Gone. We’re good on our own mate, but she makes us brilliant.”

  “Just pray we don’t get in shit for playing someone else’s song in our show,” he growls, giving me a second shove for good measure. “And you didn’t need to kiss her like that.” He gives me a third shove. “I don’t know how many times I need to warn you.” He stalks across the room and twists the cap off a beer, taking a long chug.

  I look around the room, noting the way Jack and Lachlan are avoiding eye contact because they don’t want to get involved. “They loved us,” I say to them all.

  “Yeah, Marcus,” Naomi says. “They loved it. But they loved us before you pulled that stunt. Now they’ll think of us as the band who covered Aiden Price and pashed on stage. They won’t remember our songs. You shouldn’t have done that, and you can’t just kiss me whenever you want.”

  I think I hide it fairly well, but I feel like I just got punched in the gut. Didn’t she tell me just yesterday that she wanted me to stop screwing around? Didn’t she say ‘the word’? I’m confused.

  “Yeah. OK. I’m sorry, Naomi,” I say, rubbing the back of my head. I guess I should have done that in private. “I got caught up in the moment. But you have to admit they loved it. So, I can’t regret kissing you to the sound of thousands of people cheering us on. Call me a jackass, but that was fucking awesome.”

  Naomi

  My face still feels flushed from the excitement of tonight. I look between Marcus and Theo, struggling to find the right words for this delicate situation. Theo seems ready to punch a hole in the wall, and Marcus seems ready to fuck against the wall. The energy in the room is all messed up and I wish Lachlan would make one of his well-timed jokes to lighten the mood. It doesn’t come.

  “Well,” I start, taking a breath. “If you plan on any theatrics in future, I’d appreciate you asking my permission first. Stunts like that blur the lines between us and flout the rules. I don’t want to give people the wrong impression.”

  He pulls his head back. “About what?”

  “About you and me.”

  “No one has the wrong impression, Naomi. They all saw you melt against me.”

  “There are rules, Marcus. We all agreed to them.”

  “Fuck the rules,” he snaps. “Theo fucking made them and he isn’t even planning on sticking around.”

  “What the fuck?” Jack yells, suddenly showing interest in the conversation. Ah shit.

  “You’re leaving?” Lachlan asks, the shock dripping off his features.

  “Fuck,” Theo mutters, placing his empty beer bottle on a table before he glares at Marcus. “You are such a dick.”

  “No. Don’t make this about him, Theo,” Jack says. “Explain to us what the fuck is going on?”

  “Theo is quitting at the end of the tour,” Marcus reveals, pointing an accusing finger at his brother. “He’s so desperate to get his dick into Naomi he’s willing to dump the lot of us so he can break his own stupid rule.” Whoa.

  “It’s not a stupid rule,” Theo responds. “And you’re proving why it’s not a stupid rule right now.”

  “You’re fucking leaving?” Lachlan yells.

  Holy fuck. My stomach twists uncomfortably. They’re talking about me—fighting about me—like I’m not even here. I won’t stay and listen to this. This is total bullshit. As their voices rise, I take the opportunity to slip out of the room. I need to get away from the Bailey brothers for a while. I love the band. But this rivalry is getting to be too much. If they can’t sort their shit out, I have to be the one to do it for them or else this is going to blow up in our faces and everything will be ruined. I can’t even entertain the attraction anymore.

  As I close the door, Radio Silence is leaving thei
r dressing room, heading for the stage. “Naomi.” Dan Stolle is the last one out. “What the hell is going on in there?”

  I bounce a shoulder, trying to play it down. “The brothers are Italian. They can get a little passionate in their debates at times.”

  He lifts his brow as someone growls and something crashes. “That’s a debate?”

  Pressing my teeth into my lip, I wince. “Don’t hold this against them. I can sort it out.”

  “Sounds like they’re sorting it out for themselves.” He gestures for me to follow him. “Something you need to learn about men—especially brothers—sometimes they’re going to punch each other. But once they get it out of their system, they’re fine again. You’ll see.”

  “I hope so. Otherwise this tour is going to be incredibly short.”

  He chuckles. “I broke my drummers nose on our first tour. I don’t even remember why. The energy of a crowd does strange things to people.”

  “We should be celebrating.”

  “Yeah, you should. You guys were amazing tonight.” We make it to the side of the stage where a stagehand helps him with his earpiece and hands him his guitar. The stadium goes nuts, patrons stomping their feet on the floor and screaming so loud we need to yell over the top of it. “Why don’t you stay here and enjoy the show? Take your mind off things. I hope you’re a fan.”

  “Of course I am.” I laugh, giving him a small wave as I watch him run out onto the stage, hands raised above his head as the crowd goes absolutely mental.

  He plugs in his guitar and slings it over his shoulder, leaning into the microphone. “How’d we like that Matiari, huh? I can’t believe how talented some of you Australians are,” he says, turning his head for a moment to wink at me.

  I smile and lean up against a pillar, watching as Radio Silence starts to do their thing. If someone had told me I’d be standing this close to such a huge band a few months ago while I was still tending bar, I would have laughed my arse off and called them a liar. But here I am, an intrinsic member of a band on the cusp of success, rubbing shoulders with the big guns. All I have to do to make sure that happens is keep my relationships with the Bailey brothers as platonic as possible, and what better way to do that than to spend some time with a rock star? The idea feels shitty, but Theo will back right off and Marcus’s ego will take enough of a hit that he’ll go back to fucking groupies before the nights out.

  Theo will back of.

  Shit. How did I manage to get myself in this position? I’m caught in the middle of two brothers. There’s no winning here.

  When the show is over, the band comes off the stage to the roar of the crowd. Being the main act, I know they’re planning on going out for an encore, so I try to move out of their way as helpers move towards them, hand them towels to wipe off their sweaty faces and bottles of water to cool down.

  “Having fun?” Dan asks, rubbing the hand towel over his face.

  “That was amazing. It’s surreal watching from here.”

  “Crazy thought. But do you know Vagabond?”

  “Ah, is the pope Catholic?”

  He laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes. Do you think you can do your thing on stage with us?”

  My mouth falls open and I almost fall backwards. “You want me?” I point to myself. “Out there?” I point to the stage. “With you?”

  Letting his head drop back, he releases a big belly laugh. “Come on, Naomi. Grab your fiddle. This is your chance.” He holds his hand out to the side, and a stagehand moves in, holding out my violin and bow. He was prepared for this?

  “Oh god.” I look at my most prized possession in my hands and shake with nerves.

  “They’re waiting.” The crowd chants encore, clapping faster and faster. “Now or never.”

  “OK,” I say, my heart hammering. “Yes.”

  He grabs my hand and we run out on stage together, the screams so loud I feel the vibration under my feet.

  “Please welcome back to the stage, Naomi Prendergast from Matiari.” Dan holds his arm out towards me as the din continues. A stage hand directs me to where I can plug in, and the other band members acknowledge me with smiles and nods. Is this seriously happening?

  “Just come in when you feel the need,” Dan tells me, seconds before the drum beat kicks in and the crowd loses their shit. Vagabond is the song that made Radio Silence a household name. They haven’t played the song in concert for years. And here I am getting the chance to add my flavour to it. No pressure, right?

  Oh god, please don’t let me throw up.

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath to calm my heart and focus on the music. I’ve played this song a thousand times before for my own entertainment. I can play it again now when the creators are watching. I can do this.

  I come in at the end of the first line, adding a flourish that fits in between the regular beat, joining his voice when the song reaches its crescendo, then singing along with him, harmonising for the last two lines. I hope it isn’t too much. I wanted to impress without taking over. I’m almost too scared to open my eyes.

  Then the crowd roars.

  Slowly, I lift my lids and look around. They’re all smiling at me. Dan Stolle is clapping for me. How is this real? I almost want to pinch myself in case I’m dreaming.

  “Is this the part where I run over and kiss her?” Dan asks the audience, and I can’t even hear from the screams. Shit. He saw that?

  I shake my head and laugh as he walks over and holds out his hand. “Ready to give the crowd what they want?”

  “This is crazy.” That magical stage hand appears and takes my equipment.

  “Maybe. But it’ll give those brothers something else to fight about.”

  “OK.” I slip my hand in his, because he’s right. Kissing him could the thing that stops Marcus and Theo fighting.

  He grins then wraps his arms around me, tipping me back like we are reenacting a scene from a movie. Then he presses his mouth to mine, locking our lips together without using his tongue—which is something I appreciate.

  When he sets me back on my feet, he leans into the microphone and yells, “Goodnight, Brisbane. You’ve been a fantastic audience.” Then we run from the stage, and I’m not sure I’ve taken a breath yet.

  “I’ve gotta say, sweetheart, you’re everything we thought you’d be and more.” Dan’s eyes shine while he looks at me. “Stay close. It’s time for the second act.”

  He takes my hand and leads me away from the stage. For a moment I wonder what he means by a second act, but then we’re stopped constantly by those wanting autographs and photos. I try to stand out of the way at first, but Dan pulls me in close and insists it’s good exposure for me. So I smile and pose for photos, even signing the handful of autographs I’m asked for. People want my autograph. I want to giggle about it, but there’s too much going on, like running a gauntlet all the way until we reach the exit and are led by security to a waiting limo.

  “My bag is inside,” I say, leaning for the door so I can go back for it.

  Dan places his hand on my arm. “You can’t go back out there. You’ll be mobbed. I’ll have someone get it for you.”

  “And my violin. It needs cleaning or it’ll get sticky. And the guys, they’ll worry about where I’ve gone.”

  Dan chuckles as I rattle off my list before he presses a button in the console and relays my requests to whoever’s on the other side. “Taken care of,” he says when he’s through. “Now, sit back and relax. We have things to discuss.”

  As the limo drives slowly through the crowd, I realise I needn't have worried about the guys not knowing I’d left, standing next to our equipment van is Theo, sucking back on his cigarette and watching the limo intently.

  I swallow hard as a pang resounds in my gut. And I try to tell myself that this is what I wanted. No. What I needed to happen. I need to make myself seem unavailable to them. It’s the right thing to do.

  Then why does it feel so wrong?

  Twenty-Seven

/>   Theo

  Here’s a list of people I currently hate: Chris Pine, because I hate every movie I’ve ever seen him in—except Wonder Woman, but that’s because his character dies—and there’s something about the guy that annoys the fuck out of me when I look at him; Captain America, another Chris but it’s not the actor I have a problem with, it’s the character. He’s too wholesome, and just plain boring. Give me Iron Man any day; Marcus Bailey, the little brother I didn’t ask for and got anyway. He’s been given the world and I’ve stood there holding it up for him, and when the world isn’t enough, he takes a little more. He takes from me; Dan Stolle, lead singer and founder of Radio Silence. I hate him because he’s fucking rude, and he has ulterior motives. He’s a British version of Marcus, swooping in and stealing my chance—my dream—away from me the moment I was too rigid to go for it; Naomi Prendergast, because I just watched her get into a limo and drive away with a rock star, proving once again, that she isn’t the person I thought she was. I should have stuck with the impression I had of her after that stupid fucking party from years ago. She’s just chasing stars like the rest of them. Shallow; Theodore Bailey, because I’m fucking weak. I want her so much it’s like a searing pain in my soul, but I couldn’t bring myself to break my own goddamn rules. And now Marcus is taking a shot. Dan Stolle is taking a shot, and I’m just smoking in the dark, fucking watching it happen.

  If I had a rock, I’d throw it through the back of that limo’s window.

  “There you are.” Amy’s heeled boots crunch over the gravel. I drag my eyes away from the receding lights of the limousine with Naomi and Dan Stolle inside. I can’t even think about what’s happening in there. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “I needed some air,” I grunt, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it from the tip of the one I’m smoking. I hand it to her.