Back Beat

by Sloan, Ryleigh

  I open my door and step onto the curb, not sure how I’m going to get my bags up the drive. Nicole joins me at the trunk, looking just as awestruck as I am.

  “They certainly don’t do things in small measures, do they?” she asks as I stare, gaping.

  “I guess not.”

  Nicole and I had a bit of a bonding session on the way over when she recognized me from the live auditions. She immediately started singing the song I’d chosen for my performance, and boy could the girl sing. It was nice to have someone friendly to talk to after seeing Maddie off at the airport. I missed her already.

  The gates open and we both startle. A guard walks over to the car. “Can I help you?”

  I seem to have lost my voice as I stare stupidly at the man in uniform. It’s either trapped in my twirling stomach or behind my heart, battering my rib cage, but it’s not doing me any good at the moment.

  Nicole takes pity on me and responds on my behalf. “Uh, yeah. Is this the Breakout house?”

  “Indeed it is, ma’am.”

  “Great, we’re here to stay. That is, she’s a contestant.” Nicole points at me.

  “In that case, you’re going to want to drive in. ID please.”

  I snap out of it and fish in my purse for my show ID. “I’m Blair McKenzie. Sorry for the deer-in-headlights thing I had going on there. I’m a bit out of my league.”

  The kind gentleman waves me off. “Never mind that, ma’am. You’re all in the same boat here.”

  We get back in the car and head up the drive to the main door. We repeat the earlier process of gaping like crazy people before we take my luggage out the trunk, and Nicole pulls me in for a hug, which completely takes me off guard. I literally just met the girl forty-five minutes ago.

  “Good luck, Blair. I’ll be voting for you.”

  I return her hug. “Am I going to be watching you on the show next year?”

  She blushes and ducks her head. “Maybe?”

  I sling my tote over my shoulder. “Really think about it, Nicole. You have a lot of talent.”

  She leaves and I’m left staring at the large wooden door. I’m working up the courage to open the door when someone beats me to it.

  A tall man in his early forties beams at me. “Miss McKenzie, we’ve been expecting you.” He stretches out his arm, and I shake his hand. “I’m Macintyre Samson, the house butler. I’m here to assist you with anything you may need. Please, if you ever require anything, you let me know.”

  “Thanks, Macintyre. Call me Blair.”

  “Right you are, Blair. Shall we get you settled?”

  “Mac, my man!” A tall blond guy with deep chocolate eyes bounds down the staircase two at a time. I remember him from the first show. He’s incredibly talented. “Let me help you with that.” He reaches for my bag.

  “It’s quite alright, Jeremy. I can manage.”

  “No doubt, Mac, but Danielle just grabbed me as I walked past her room and asked me to—and these are her words—‘order me some chai tea, hold the milk.’”

  “Well, I best get on that.”

  Macintyre walks into what I assume is the kitchen, and I turn to face Jeremy. “Hi, I’m Blair.”

  “I know who you are.” He winks at me. “You caused quite a stir in here last night.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, you’ve been dubbed the Eliminator.”

  “I’ve got a nickname already?”

  He doesn’t get a chance to respond because a guy comes from outside, dripping wet in a purple swimsuit, his dark hair plastered to his face. He slips on his own puddle and grabs the chair next to the door to steady himself.

  Jeremy chuckles. “Shit, Dan, that’s the third time you’ve tripped over your own feet. You’re not gonna make the battle if you keep trying to take yourself out.”

  “Sorry, I heard the newbie was here.”

  He walks over to me and pulls me into a hug. I’m used to affection, but damn, these people are friendly. His cold wet body soaks my top, and I’m grateful I’m not wearing white.

  Dan takes a step back. “Sorry about the hug. I should probably ask first, but since we’re about to be mortal enemies, I thought I’d try soften you up before the kill.”

  Jeremy smiles. “Dan is on Chantelle’s team.”

  “Gotcha.” I smile at Dan. “Fair enough.”

  “Oh my God, I love your accent.”

  “I don’t have an accent, you do,” I quip.

  “Hey, you’re in our country now. You have the accent.”

  “I see the rivalry has already begun. C’mon, Blair, let me help you with your bags. Dan, if Mac sees the mess you’re making, he’s going to flip his donkey.”

  Dan looks down and sees the puddle he’s made all over the wood floor. “Balls!” He whips his towel off his shoulder and kneels down to mop the water up.

  We leave him to his cleaning, and I follow Jeremy up the stairs to where the bedrooms are. He introduces me to some of the contestants on the way. It’s just about to become overwhelming when Jeremy stops in front of white double doors, sets my bags down, and opens them wide. “This is your new home.”

  I step inside and immediately love the room. I don’t know if it’s just because this will be my safe haven during the competition, but the teal accent wall behind the acacia-wood bedroom set is warm and homey. The hanging lights to the left of the bed give the room a modern and crisp look. It’s so different from my bedroom in South Africa, but I love it.

  I thank Jeremy, and he leaves. I spend some time unpacking and getting acclimatized to my new space, but after a while, I head down to the pool. I want to get to know my fellow housemates, and by the sounds coming from outside, most have them have migrated there.

  After changing into some shorts and a pair of flip-flops, I grab my Kindle, pop my shades onto the top of my head, and make my way to the pool. Just outside the door, there is a tray with tall glasses of yellow liquid with bright umbrellas perched cheerfully inside. I take one and recline on a lounger, sliding my sunglasses into place I take a sip of the drink and cough. Holy mackerel! Whatever is in the glass is alcoholic and potent stuff. I set it aside.

  “Yeah, it got me too.”

  I look up and a girl with black hair and mismatched eyes sits down on the lounger next to me. I’m grateful my eyes are covered because I’m staring at her one green and one brown eye. She is freaking stunning.

  “I’m Amy-Leigh, Team Amanda.” One side of her lip curls. “Weird how we all define ourselves by our coaches now.”

  I laugh. “I’m Blair. Team Dean.”

  We make small talk for a while, and I like Amy-Leigh a lot. She’s from New York, is the same age as me, and quit her job to follow her dreams. Her whole face lights up when she talks about singing, but she says if she doesn’t make it in the competition, she plans on opening a coffee shop slash bookstore. I don’t get to indulge in some reading because a tall girl with deep burgundy hair and amber eyes comes over and introduces herself as Danielle. She smiles wide and looks friendly enough when she talks to Amy-Leigh, but when she turns her attention on me, there’s an edge to her smile and judgment in her eyes. It makes me uneasy, but I tell myself I’m reading into things that aren’t there. She eventually moves on, and everyone seems to enjoy her company. I must have been imagining it.

  Amy-Leigh stands and heads for the pool; she does a perfect bomb and soaks everyone within a few feet of the water. This results in war, and soon everyone is horsing around. I stay safely on my lounger. I’m not averse to a good pool fight, but looking at what’s happening in the pool, I’m totally going to come off second best.

  I am a paragraph into my book when I’m suddenly soaked from head to toe. I grab my Kindle and shake the excess water from the screen. Thankfully it didn’t get as much water as the rest of me. I look up at my offender.

  “You didn’t think you’d get to lie here in the sun like a princess, did ya?” Jeremy’s shit-eating
grin has me narrowing my eyes.

  “You’re going to pay for that,” I threaten playfully. “Not now—maybe not in the next few weeks—but you are going to pay for it.”

  “Yeah? Gonna bring your South African A-game?”

  I shrug. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

  The banter settles the unease I’ve felt since Danielle popped by, and I’m smiling my face off.

  He holds up his hands and sits opposite me. “Consider me suitably terrified. I’ve heard South Africans ride elephants to work and keep pet lions.”

  I laugh. “Well, my family owns a game reserve, so technically we have loads of pet lions.”

  “Get the hell out! Are you messing with me, Blair?”

  I draw a cross over my chest with my finger. “Cross my heart.”

  He takes a sip of his drink. I can’t tell for sure, but it looks a lot like gin and pink tonic, and the foofy cocktail seems so out of place in his calloused hands it makes me smile. “I knew I liked you. We’re kindred spirits, you and I. My family owns a ranch in Kansas.”

  I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the lounger. Gathering my hair to the side, I wring out the water and it drips onto the rough slate. “Oh really? What kind of ranch?”

  “Horses mainly. We have a few cattle but not many, but I’m more interested in the animals you have.”

  “Well, we have different types of game. Springbok, wildebeest, and eland. We also have giraffes, elephants, and lions.”

  “Get the hell out,” he repeats. “You’re messing with me. This is payback for wetting you.”

  “Jeremy, you’ll know when I exact payback on you.”

  He grins. “So is there a lucky fellow waiting at home for you?”

  “Not yet.” I waggle my eyebrows. “You offering?”

  His face turns the color of a baboon’s butt in mating season, and he frantically shakes his head while stammering.

  “Jeremy, I’m joking. I watched your intro video. I know you have a girlfriend back home.”

  The relief on his face makes me want to simultaneously burst out laughing and hug him, but the poor guy looks so skittish right now, a hug would likely send him over the edge.

  I peel my tank away from my skin so it doesn’t look like a wetsuit, but the moment I let it go, it suctions back onto my body. “Tell me about her.”

  “Emerly?”

  “Is that her name?”

  His face softens when he speaks about her. He tells me she’s studying psychology, and they met when she was working at a concession stand at the movies. After he went to the same show three times in a row and didn’t have the guts to ask her out, Emerly snuck in and watched the movie with him. It was their first date. Jeremy tells me she is the reason he is on the show today—that she pushed him to live his own dreams instead of his parents’ dream. It’s nice to have something in common with someone. We’ve both felt the weight of family obligations.

  “Hey, guys!”

  I turn toward the unmistakable voice. Dean is standing in the doorway, and holy mother of all things sizzling, the guy looks flaming good.

  He’s wearing jeans and a gray tee that looks like it’s so in love with his abs, it’s clinging to them so tight. His hair is mussed up as usual, and when he hangs his sunglasses on the neck of his T-shirt, and meets my gaze, I am literally struggling to breathe. I try my yoga breathing so when he comes over, I don’t look like I’m panting, but it isn’t working.

  Dean spends a few minutes talking to Matt, who I met briefly earlier, before he makes his way over to me. “Hey, Blair. How’s America treating you?”

  “Not bad. Aside from being wet, that is?”

  He cocks a brow and tilts his head, and I swear he is trying so hard not to smile. Or laugh his ass off at me.

  “M…my clothes. I’m talking about my clothes.” Stop talking, Blair. Please, dear God, someone make me stop talking.

  “Yeah, I got that.” His lip curls in this off-kilter smile, and suddenly I’m not just wet because Jeremy soaked me. I can’t tell if he knows what I’m thinking, but Dean smirks and I blush a few shades darker than Jeremy was a few minutes ago.

  He puts me out of my misery and thumbs toward the house. “Wanna give me a tour?”

  I squint up at him, confused. “You’ve never been here before?”

  “Nope, first time.”

  “Well, I’ve just got here, so I might get us lost. This place is ginormous.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, it is.”

  Standing, I smooth my hands over my wet shorts. I could use a dry set of clothes. Now that Dean is here, I am aware that every piece of my clothing is molded to my body. I might as well be naked for all it does to hide my shape. We head inside, and Dean walks beside me as I show him around the house. He looks impressed, and I wonder why this is the first time he is at the house. Why did he choose today to pop in? I don’t get to give it much thought because Dean receives a call. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Barry? Is everything okay?” He listens for a while, then swears. “Fuck. I’ll be right there.”

  Dean looks apologetic. “I’m sorry about this, Blair. My drummer hurt his hand, and he’s at the hospital. I have to go.”

  “Of course. I’m so sorry to hear that.” I stop myself from reaching out and comforting him.

  Dean looks distracted and dials another number. “See you tomorrow, Blair.”

  I head up the stairs to change so I’m not tempted to look at his ass as he walks out the door.

  6

  Blair

  I’m sweating. Like not glistening or glittering or any of the shit other girls tell you they do. I’m honest to goodness sweating so badly. I’m 99 percent sure I have some crack sweat going on too. This is by far the most nervous I’ve ever been, and I thought the blind audition was gonna take the cake for that. I look at the floor-to-ceiling mirrors they have against the one wall, and thankfully my perspiration situation is not visible.

  I rub my hands on my leggings and tug at my sweater, hoping I’m not too casually dressed. This is the first time I’m actually having a one-on-one session with Dean, and I suddenly wonder if I have what it takes to do this. Dean has been my celebrity crush since I was fourteen years old, and I wonder if I’ll be able to put all the goo-gah feelings aside and actually learn from the guy. I should’ve gone with Kade or Chantelle, but when Dean made a fool of himself to beg me to work with him, maybe my ego got in the way. Or maybe I wasn’t exactly thinking with the right part of my anatomy.

  The door to the studio opens, and I swallow hard.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late. I got a call from my manager, and it couldn’t wait.” He takes his cap off and runs a hand through his hair, and oh my gosh what that small sweep through his hair does to me.

  “That’s perfectly fine.” My voice is pitchy and breathy. This is a bad idea. He’s dressed in gray sweats and a white T-shirt with a red baseball cap. I realize I’ve given him a proper once-over when he looks a little uncomfortable.

  Just great, Blair, now he knows you’ve been checking him out. Way to be professional.

  “How’s your drummer?” He looks surprised that I ask but then smiles at me.

  “Barry’s okay. He tore a tendon in his wrist and is pissed he can’t play for a few weeks, but other than that, he’s fine.”

  “That’s good.” I’m so darn awkward right now. “So, I have a song I’d like to work on.”

  “Great, we’ll have a look at it later. First, we’re going to play a game or two of cards.” He reaches into his back pocket and holds out the deck. “What’s your poison?”

  I stare at the cards as though they are a foreign object to me. “Uh, shouldn’t we be working on my technique or something for the face-off on Friday?”

  “Yeah, we will. But I like to get to know my team first, and I find this is the best way to do it. I’m nervous and I’m sure you’re a little nervous too, so why don’t we just hang out for
a while and the rest will come later.”

  Wow, okay, this is not at all what I expected, but I kinda like the idea of taking some time to settle the nerves.

  “What game did you have in mind?” he asks.

  “Spite and Malice?”

  “I don’t know that one.”

  “I’ll teach you. That way I have the advantage.” I wink and he smirks.

  “Oh, it’s like that, is it? You’re a competitive one, aren’t you?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “I like it.”

  We sit cross-legged on the floor and I deal the cards, explaining the rules about parking and stacking while he nods his head. Once I’ve explained everything, I smile. “Ready?”

  He nods again. “Ready.”

  Five minutes into the game I’m starting to wonder if he’s played this before. “Are you hustling me?”

  “What?” He chuckles.

  “You’ve played this before.”

  He lifts his hands in surrender. “I have never played this game; you’re just a good teacher.”

  I snort. “Nice try.”

  “Seriously, I haven’t played this before. Who taught you to play this game?”

  My smile is soft as I tell him about my papaw. He asks me questions, and I’m surprised by how he genuinely seems to want to know.

  “So you grew up on a game reserve. What’s that like?”

  I close off a pack and turn my card in my home pile over. An ace. Yes! I place it down and add the two, three, and four from my parking spaces to the pile in the middle. “I guess everyone assumes their normal is the normal, but since I started college and came here, I realize it was a pretty awesome way to grow up. Saturday morning would consist of my dad and me heading out into the park in the helicopter to count the rhinos and giraffes. The buck are nearly impossible to count, and we lost our old elephant bull last winter. We got a couple more the weekend before I came out here. It’s so great to see the animals in their natural environment. Sure, we have fences, but that’s to keep the lions from killing us in our sleep.” I wink at him to let him know I’m kidding, but it is something we have to secure ourselves against. “I know how to dart a rhino, and once we had to go rescue a giraffe from a ditch, but for the most part we just let the animals get on with it.”