Before Avery could respond one way or another, the back door flew opened. Momentarily blinded by the sudden light, she stumbled. A warm hand clasped her arm gently and drew her inside. Trevor followed.
Avery blinked and as her eyes adjusted, an attractive, middle-aged Hispanic man fashionably dressed all in black came into focus.
He pulled back her hood. “Bienvenido, you must be Avery. I’m Ricardo Benito. My friends call me Ricky.” He took her proffered hand, but instead of shaking it, he kissed it the way they did in old fashioned movies.
Avery giggled.
Ricky turned around to face Trevor and abruptly cuffed him on the side of his head.
“Ow!” Trevor exclaimed. “What the heck was that for?”
“Oh, pobrecito. Don’t be such a baby.” Glancing back at Avery, he went on, “When you called me, I’ve gotta say, I was intrigued. Not many things I haven’t seen or been asked to do in this line of work, but this is a first. And mi hermano, you way undersold the magnitude of what you’re asking me to do here.”
Ricky cupped Avery’s chin with one hand, while the other dropped downward, about an inch away from her body, outlining her curves. He raised disbelieving brows to Trevor. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? It’s going to take way more than a simple haircut for anyone to believe this chica is a chico.”
Trevor nodded. Knowing Benito loved drama almost as much as flattery, he told him, “I figured it would require a miracle, which is why I brought her to you.”
Benito preened, soaking up the compliment. He studied Avery again. “Alright then, we better get started. We’ve got our work cut out for us mi bonita.” Grabbing Avery’s hand, he led her further into the warehouse-like building.
Avery admired the art deco furnishings and black and white photographs of celebrities that lined the walls. At the reception desk, Benito stopped momentarily, releasing her hand to pick up a piece of paper. He glanced at it, looked at Avery again, and then scribbled something down.
He passed the paper over to Trevor. “Here. I’m sure you didn’t think to get clothing, did you? I put together a list of things she will need. Size four, right, Avery?”
She nodded, impressed by his guess.
“That should translate closely enough into a small in the men’s department.” Benito smiled wryly at Trevor and winked at Avery. “She’s also going to need something to flatten down that chest. Guys will notice those, and then it won’t make a bit of difference what I do to the rest of you.”
Avery blushed, suddenly finding her feet very interesting.
Trevor told Benito, “That’s something we already figured out in Vancouver, but I’ll pick up another ace bandage just to be safe.”
“Avery,” Benito called to get her attention. “You also need to decide about undergarments. Will it be boxers for you or briefs?”
“What?” she blurted out.
“If you’re gonna play the part, you gotta go in all the way.”
“No way briefs! That’s too weird for me. Boxers, I guess. I’ve worn those to sleep in before.”
“Well, don’t just stand there, Trevor, wasting my time,” Benito chided. “Make yourself useful. Head to the Beverly Center with that list. We need it all.” He turned back to Avery. “You and I are going to be real busy for at least a couple of hours. My dear, I’m gonna have to give you a crash course, the 411, on how to look, talk, think, and act like a vato.”
WHEN TREVOR RETURNED several hours later, Benito grabbed the large shopping bags from him and disappeared into the back. Before Trevor had time to finish scrolling through the emails on his phone, Benito came bustling back in and announced dramatically, “Brutal Strength’s newest member es muy, muy gaupo.”
The transformation was remarkable. Avery looked every inch the stylish young teen heartthrob wearing a structured jacket with an attached hood over a button down white shirt. A thin black tie was wrapped around her neck. She wore low rise straight fit jeans and stylish black boots to complete the ensemble.
Trevor nodded his approval. “Amazing,” he whispered. “I can barely believe my eyes.” He clapped Benito on the back. “Ricky, you are a freaking genius. Avery, you look fantastic! Clothes really do make the man. And the haircut is perfect. Chicks are going to dig you!”
Avery scowled. “That is so… not what I want to happen.”
“Sorry, Avery, just saying.” Trevor gushed, “You are as pretty as Bieber himself. Black Cat will love your look. You’ll bring a whole new demographic to Brutal Strength’s fan base.”
Benito chimed in with additional instructions: “The urban metro look is really popular with the west coast bands. I suggest you google some pics of Bryce Soderberg from Lifehouse or TobyMac to get ideas to maintain the look. The layered style they favor really works to your advantage. Mira, look, it covers up your curves, top and bottom.” He smirked at Avery. “I would stick with leather jackets or loose military ones like you have on. Boots for casual, keep your feet covered. They are a dead giveaway that you’re a woman. You can dress your look up with button down shirts. With your coloring, dark green and black will be the most flattering. I’d get some newsboy caps, too. Do vests and go for thin loose ties, or a scarf, to cover up the fact that you don’t have an Adam’s apple. No shirtless rock concert performances for you, eh chulo? Also, shiny black jeans will work for dressy occasions. I’ll text Trevor some examples of more outfits I think will work for you.”
“Great,” Avery responded, overwhelmed by the plethora of details he’d given.
“Did you deepen your voice just now?” Trevor asked, eyes widening.
“Yeah. I did that earlier at the tryout, too. It kind of goes with the disguise, don’t you think?” She wiggled her brows.
“Good thinking.” Trevor nodded. “Well, we’d better get going. Our flight’s early in the morning.” He extended his hand to Benito. “Congratulations, Ricky. You are incredible.”
“Absolutely,” Avery agreed, wrapping her arms around the stylist and giving him a hug.
“Whoa, hold on.” Ricky took a step back. “Remember what I taught you. Guys give man hugs.” He demonstrated by putting the proper body width distance between the two of them and then double hand-slapping her on the back. “Also, don’t forget about the walk. Guys stride purposefully, shoulders back. No more girly hip swaying action.”
Avery followed his instructions, swinging her arms like he’d shown her earlier.
“Bueno. Bueno. I predict you are going to be a big hit, Avery. And the publicity, maldita sea, when you let the cat out of the bag, it’s gonna be stratospheric. They see you,” he pointed to her, “they’re gonna remember me,” he pointed to himself. “It’s gonna be great for my business!”
AVERY HAD DONE her best to cut all ties to her friends before she left New York. She’d told everyone that she would be busy doing studio work and not to expect her back anytime soon. No specifics. The less information they knew the better if this was going to work out. Maybe, just maybe, if she was lucky, she could fly under Campanella’s radar for a little while longer and pay him back before anyone else got hurt.
Wanting to master Brutal Strength’s entire catalog, Avery spent the first few days back in Vancouver practicing their songs. The Sutton Place in downtown became her new temporary home. It was ideally suited to the task with a full service hotel tower on one side and long-term apartments like the one she currently occupied on the other. Her one bedroom suite was twice as large as the two-bedroom apartment she’d lived in with Justin and Jeff back in New York. Avery loved the balcony. It overlooked one of the main thoroughfares, Burrard Street, which conveniently connected her to the shops and restaurants in the vicinity.
When the day for her to play with Brutal Strength finally arrived, Avery could hardly contain her excitement. On the short cab ride over to Black Cat’s home office in Kitsilano her knee bounced up and down the entire time. Trevor’s attempts at small talk were mostly wasted on her. She couldn’t focus. She jus
t wanted to meet the rest of the group and jam with them.
They split up as soon as they entered the building. Trevor went into the control room to listen with Stephen again, and Avery slipped into the larger studio where the band was waiting.
Marcus spotted her as soon as she stuck her head in the door and strode right to her. He was grinning widely. Avery returned his smile, happy to see him again and relieved to see that his mood seemed vastly improved from the last time.
Marcus was inexplicably pleased to see Avery again. There was just something about the guy he found appealing. Charisma was part of it, and that would be good for the group. But also a naiveté that though refreshing was also problematic. Avery would be exploited if someone didn’t look out for him. Marcus decided right then and there that someone would have to be him.
Years on the road as the lead singer in a rock band had made Marcus irrevocably jaded and cynical. He had long since drunk the Kool-Aid, figuratively speaking. There wasn’t much he hadn’t seen or done. He’d earned his bad reputation. He only hoped not to repeat the same stupid mistakes in the future. Been there, done that, have the bill from rehab to prove it. He definitely didn’t want any of that crap for a nice kid like their gifted guitarist.
“Avery, this is my older brother, Dwight. He’s our bassist and band anchor.” Avery studied the man who shook hands with her. He shared the same blue eyes and fair complexion as Marcus, but that was where the similarity ended. Rather than being tall and lean like Marcus, Dwight was shorter, by at least a couple of inches, and wider framed. He had thick blond hair with red highlights that were similar to hers.
“Nice to meet you, Avery,” Dwight said, pointing back and forth between them. “You and I are gonna look good on stage together. Give the fans something better to look at than this troll.” His blue eyes sparkled as he shoved Marcus playfully.
“Likewise,” she smiled tentatively at him. He came across as a warmer, more approachable version of his brother.
“And this guy on the drums is John Raymond.” Marcus smirked. “We call him the Evil Stepchild.”
“Just call me JR. All of my friends do.” The drummer looked like a California surfer, tall and slim with the requisite long blond hair and tanned skin. He smiled, flashing brilliant white teeth, and extended his hand to her.
“Who’s ready to rock?” Dwight asked in a falsetto voice, sashaying his hips and spinning around in circle, hand behind his ear.
Marcus chimed in right away, in a similar high pitched voice, “Oh Dwight, you are soo hot. Can you strum your bass for me, please?” The two brothers burst into laughter, obviously highly amused by each other’s antics.
JR rolled his eyes. “You guys are such dweebs. Couldn’t you spare poor Avery here?”
Having lived in an apartment with two guys, Avery was used to this kind of slapstick humor. It usually devolved into potty jokes or body parts in short order. She smiled as the brothers continued their two man comedy act with batting eyes and fake kissing.
“Someone please, just shoot me now,” JR groaned.
Still chuckling, Marcus told Avery, “Seriously, we’ve been here a while and have already warmed up. Take whatever time you need to get ready.”
She nodded and turned to unpack her black Ibanez, plugging it into the Marshall amps. She was slower than usual because her gaze was repeatedly drawn to the brothers as they continued interacting playfully.
Marcus noticed Avery watching him and Dwight. The young guitarist’s expression seemed almost wistful. He kept twisting around a black band he wore around his wrist. Marcus would bet money that it had belonged to his twin brother. Now that Marcus knew the story, he understood Avery’s emotions better. It was tough to see the kid looking so lost and alone.
“Do you think…”
“Just a second.” Marcus raised a hand, cutting Dwight off.
With a sidelong glance from underneath her long bangs, Avery saw Marcus coming towards her. She immediately tensed.
“Hey.” He bumped her shoulder and gave her a gentle smile.
“Hey,” she replied carefully.
“Stephen told me about your brother,” he informed her softly. “I don’t know what to say, man. But I just wanted you to know that I know, and I feel really sorry for your loss. If something like that happened to Dwight, I’d be wrecked… what I mean is. I’m sorry. I wish…”
“Thanks,” Avery interrupted, rescuing him from his floundering attempt to comfort her. His concern deeply touched her, though, and she rewarded him with a tremulous smile. She was starting to wonder if this guy was something different than the media made him out to be. Looking down, she made some final adjustments to her tuning and gave him a nod to let him know she was ready.
Sympathetic blue eyes met hers. “No pressure, Avery. We already know you can play. We just want to run through a couple of tunes, see how we all sound together.” Marcus turned to his drummer. “JR, take us through ‘Streets of Fire’.”
JR nodded and counted off, “One. Two. Three.” Tapping his sticks together to give the beat, he cued Marcus and Avery.
The two began the raucous heavy metal song singing together with Avery’s riffs punctuating the lyrics like musical exclamation points. During the chorus, she echoed the last words of each line that Marcus sang.
When they finished, Dwight nodded at Avery. “Hey kid, you’re pretty good. You did your homework.”
They played a couple more tunes after that, and to Avery it sounded so good and felt so natural it seemed like they’d all been playing together for years, no one missing a single beat. She even threw in an improvised frenzied solo, her fingers a blur as she tested the limits of her instrument. When she was done, JR gaped at her.
Dwight threw his brother a look. “Marcus, you way undersold this guy’s talent, bro.” Turning to Avery, Dwight said, “Rockin’!” and gave her a celebratory high five.
“Yeah, way cool,” JR concurred, reaching over to do the same.
“Ok, ok.” Marcus’ lips quirked into a smile. “The kid’s a prodigy. But I don’t want him to get a swelled head. Let’s see what he can do with ‘Moon Rising’.”
After jamming for a couple of hours more, no one had any remaining doubts about Marcus’ choice for their new lead guitarist. Each additional song they played had only further solidified the decision in everyone’s mind.
Finally, Dwight shook his head. “Enough. I’m worn out. Avery. Dude. You are a total ace.” JR and Marcus echoed that sentiment as Trevor and Stephen wandered in. Stephen made eye contact with Marcus and gave him a thumbs up. Apparently, there were no dissenters.
“Trevor, you have a talented guitar player here,” Marcus said, clapping Avery on the back and reaching out to shake Trevor’s hand. “Why don’t we all go out to dinner? Talk terms. Avery, welcome to the group.”
Avery solemnly shook Marcus' extended hand. Then, in an undignified, but characteristic response for her, she whooped and jumped into the air. Her unbridled enthusiasm elicited chuckles from the others. Dwight and JR came over one after the other to congratulate her.
Trevor gave her the ‘man hug’ and whispered in her ear, “Way to go…guy!”
“Who’s up for Mexican?” Stephen asked. “Margaritas are on me!” Noticing Marcus’ wince, he retracted, “Sorry cousin, none for you of course.”
“Me either,” Avery announced. “I don’t drink, but I warn you, I can pack away my body weight in enchiladas!”
“Yeah, like that’s very much,” JR needled. “What do you weigh like 125 pounds?”
Raising a brow, Avery said, “Yeah, actually that’s pretty close. You should get a job at a carnival.”
“Uh, uh, I’m pretty sure they have plenty of freaks already,” quipped Marcus.
“We shall see, Avery, we shall see,” Dwight offered up. “I put the Anthony brothers against your enchilada eating prowess any time.”
Marcus’ lips curved into a smile, and he pulled out his cell. “Hey Ray, we’re all going
to Cubre. Can you pick me up? Thanks.” He then asked Stephen to come with him so they could go over the terms he wanted to present to Avery.
Trevor told everyone else to meet him out front. He pulled around in his rented Volvo. JR took shotgun, while Dwight and Avery settled into the back seat. “So, is Ray Marcus’ driver?” she asked Dwight.
“Yeah,” he explained. “He’s also his bodyguard. Marcus can’t go anywhere anymore without being recognized. The rest of us keep a relatively low profile, but not him. The press hounds him constantly. I think they’re hoping he’ll slip up again.”
When they arrived at the restaurant, Stephen escorted them to a back room where Marcus was already waiting at the end of a long table. Avery sat down across from him, ordering a Coke from the waiter. Stephen and Trevor went over to the far corner of the room to discuss Avery’s contract.
“Ok, those guys are exempt from the directive, but as for the rest of us,” Dwight cautioned, looking sternly at his brother, “no talking business. Let’s just have some fun.”
Marcus’ lip curled. “Whatever you say, Blondie.”
“How many times do I have to say it, bro? I am not a blond. My hair is red with blond highlights.”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that bro’sef. But sounds to me like you’re in denial.”
Dwight snorted. “And you’re delusional.”
By the time dinner arrived, Trevor and Stephen had taken seats at the table with the others.
Things must have gone well, thought Avery, noting Trevor’s self-satisfied grin. As the meal progressed, she observed the two brothers. Dwight had the rest of them in stitches with his animated accounts of the band members’ various foibles and misdeeds. Marcus mainly stared into space with his piercing blue eyes. The only evidence that he was paying attention to what was going on at the table was the occasional wry comment that he interjected.
Dwight was reminiscing about how he had been the one who always got the girls. “That is, until Marcus started singing lead vocals. The bassist never gets any respect,” he complained.
Love Rock'ollection: The Brutal Strength Rock Star Trilogy, books 1-3 Page 4
