by Ann Lister
“Does he really have a dark room?” Sydney asked.
Laura lifted her head and smiled. “I'm not sure in which house he had it installed, but it does exist, Syd. Did you think he was lying?”
“It wouldn't be the first time a guy lied to get my attention.”
“Ben's not like that. If he says something, its true. I told you, he's a nice guy.”
Sydney shook her head. “They don't exist.”
“Not only is Ben a nice guy, he's filthy rich and - in case you hadn't noticed, he's not bad on the eyes.”
Sydney shrugged. She wouldn't deny Ben was distractingly handsome, but she'd never admit it out loud.
“What else would you like to know about him?” Laura asked.
Sydney held Laura's gaze for a moment, deciding if she wanted to bother asking the few questions she did have on her mind.
“How many houses does he own?” she asked.
“Two. One house is right on the beach in Maryland and the other house is in northern California, near his family's ranch. I think he also keeps an apartment in L.A., too.”
“Ranch?”
“The family business is cattle ranching. Ben was supposed to continue that business with his father, but music bit him in the ass instead. And, much to his father's dismay, Ben dragged Simon along for the ride.”
As the sun was rising, the bus pulled over into an all-night diner for the band to have breakfast. Sydney grabbed her camera and left the bus with Laura. She turned around in the parking lot in time to see Ben exiting the bus and snapped a photograph, then took one more of him moving across the dirt parking lot toward the diner. The sun reflected off the dust clouds whirling around his boots with each step he took.
Sydney went to the ladies room with Laura and washed up, then returned to the dining area. Ben had taken a booth with Simon near the back of the restaurant. He grabbed her wrist as Sydney passed by his table.
“Would you like to sit with me?” Ben asked.
“No, I wouldn't,” she replied, and jerked her arm from his grasp.
Ben and Simon watched her take another booth with Laura on the opposite side of the diner.
“I got one word for you: frostbite,” Simon said, and laughed.
“And I say you're wrong.”
“This is going to be the easiest five grand I ever made,” Simon said.
“I'm not betting.”
“Would that be because you know you can't win?”
“I'm not betting because…I like her,” Ben said.
“You like her? What is this, junior high?”
Ben glared at his brother. “Screw you. I'm not betting.”
CHAPTER THREE
Two weeks later, the tour brought them to Ohio. It had been fourteen days of Sydney doing her best to ignore Ben, which was an impossible feat, considering the forced close proximity they faced daily. She would see him approaching her in a venue hallway and step into an adjacent room or simply start walking in the opposite direction. When she had to speak with him, she made her comments as concise as possible.
Instead of interacting with him directly, she chose to study him from afar, paying careful attention to how he interacted with everyone around him - especially the women. There was a constant flow of females parading themselves in front of Ben daily, but he politely appeared to dismiss them all. His only vice seemed to be the occasional night out with Simon. It made her wonder if this was his normal pattern or if he was behaving himself for her benefit.
Once a day Sydney would allow Ben time to discuss the tour and view the proofs from the previous concert or press event. His words were always geared toward business, but his eyes seemed to be saying something different. Verbally, he'd be giving her the next days schedule, while his eyes invited her to dinner. More than once, Sydney caught him staring at her and when she met his gaze, he would smile warmly and look away.
Before the Toledo show, Sydney passed an attractive redhead in the hallway at the Civic Center. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous, tall and leggy with big breasts Sydney was certain were fake. The woman had the road crew literally tripping over themselves at the sight of her.
“I'm sorry to bother you,” Terry said to Sydney.
Nearby, two roadies bumped into each other while staring at the woman.
“I'm looking for Ben Gallo,” Terry said. “I have an interview with him and I can't seem to find his dressing room.”
Sydney stifled a laugh. An interview with Ben? She doubted the merit of that claim, but nonetheless, it would be fun to see Ben's reaction when Terry stepped into his dressing room. If Ben didn't go for her and show a crack in his seemingly flawless character, then Sydney would have to wonder about his sanity.
“Ben's dressing room is this way,” Sydney said.
Sydney escorted Terry down the hall, barely able to contain her laughter.
“I had to fight every woman in our office to get this interview,” Terry said. “And, now that I'm here, I can't believe how nervous I am to finally meet him.”
“You've got nothing to be nervous about,” Sydney said.
“How receptive do you think he'd be if I asked him dinner?”
“I thought you were here to interview him?” Sydney asked.
“I am, but you can't blame me for multi-tasking, can you? I mean, the man is sexy as hell! If you haven't noticed that, you're either blind or gay.”
Ben's door was partially open when Sydney knocked. He was sitting on the end of a long table tuning a guitar and quickly stood up when he saw Sydney enter.
“Since when do you come see me before a show?” he asked. A big smile formed on his face.
Sydney stepped aside to allow Terry to enter the dressing room.
“This woman says she has an interview scheduled with you,” Sydney said. She watched the color fade from Ben's face. His eyes surveyed Terry's curves, then returned to Sydney, an almost desperate look furrowing his brow.
“Why don't you stay?” he suggested softly to Sydney. “You can take a few photographs during the interview.”
Sydney shook her head and smiled deviously. “I'm afraid you're on your own with this one.”
He reached for Sydney's hand and gently tugged. “Come on, Syd. Stay.”
“I don't think you need a chaperone,” she said, and worked her way back toward the door. Sydney looked at the reporter and winked. “He's all yours,” she said, and disappeared into the crowded hallway.
About a half an hour later, Sydney was walking toward the stage area and passed Terry again.
“That was a quick interview,” Sydney said.
“He answered all my questions and that was that.”
“What about dinner?” Sydney asked.
Terry shook her head. “He turned me down flat. He said he had a girlfriend and couldn't go.”
Sydney tipped her head. “He doesn't have a girlfriend.”
“He told me you were his girlfriend,” Terry said.
Sydney fell against the concrete wall and held onto her side laughing. “Maybe in his dreams!”
“Whatever,” Terry said. “He said no, so that should make you happy.”
“I have no interest in who Ben spends his time with.” Sydney said.
Terry smiled knowingly. “Call it what you want,” she said. She turned down the hall and left a trail of dazed men all the way to the exit.
Sydney switched direction and headed for Ben's dressing room. This time she didn't bother to knock and stepped inside. He was sitting on the same table warming-up on a different guitar.
“Twice in one night,” he said. “Syd, we've got to stop spending so much time together or people will start talking.”
“Why did you turn down the reporter's invitation to dinner?”
“Women make offers to me on a daily basis,” he said. He hopped down from the table and set the guitar back into its stand. “And almost all of them get turned down.”
“You told her you had a girlfriend,” she said.
&
nbsp; “That's what I tell every woman I have no interest in…dating,” he said. “It saves a lot of hurt feelings.”
“You told her I was your girlfriend.”
“That might have slipped out,” he said.
“But, I'm not your girlfriend.”
“Sadly, that's true,” he said. He sifted through the clean shirts hanging on the clothes rack in the corner of the room, selected a navy blue one, and removed it from the hanger.
“Did you not notice how gorgeous she was?” Sydney asked.
Ben looked at Sydney. “Am I missing something here, Syd? Why would you give a shit about this?”
Sydney shifted away from him. “I don't care. I just find it odd I never see you with anyone.”
Ben laughed and pulled his t-shirt over his head, tossing it onto a metal chair in the corner of the room. Then he slipped the clean shirt over his shoulders and began to button it.
“For the record - and not that it's any of your business,” he said. “Terry wasn't my type and that's why I turned her down. I would say she was more Simon's type. However, should I find someone that is my type, I will most definitely - go for it.”
Ben finished buttoning his shirt and rubbed at his chin. “Actually, there is someone I'm interested in, but she's made it crystal clear she has no interest in me.”
The heat in Ben's eyes caused Sydney to step back toward the door, leaning against the door jamb.
“I guess you'll have to keep looking,” she said.
Ben stepped in front of her, tucking his shirt into his pants in a suggestive manner. “Yeah, I guess so.”
A long moment passed between them. Ben continued to stare at Sydney, and strangely, she didn't look away. She held his gaze until finally he was the one that had to blink.
“Well, if you have no further questions about my sex life, Sydney, then I have a sound-check to do,” he said, and opened the door to the hallway.
“I asked you not to call me that,” she said.
Ben pressed his hand against the door and shut it. “Why do you have such a problem with me using your full name?”
“It implies intimacy and we're not…intimate.”
“You are unbelievable!” he said and opened the door again. “Being intimate isn't the worst thing that could happen…Syd.” He slid his face close to her cheek without making contact. “Maybe if you tried it, you might find you like it,” he whispered.
Sydney angrily pushed against Ben's chest and slapped his face. His fingers quickly went to his cheek.
“Perfect,” he said, and rubbed at the stinging skin on his face. He stepped into the hall and began to walk away.
“You deserved that,” she said.
“Later, Syd. I've got work to do.”
“Did I just see you slap Ben?” Laura asked Sydney.
“He drives me absolutely crazy,” Sydney said.
Laura fell into step beside Sydney and walked with her toward the stage area.
“Can I ask what he did?” Laura asked.
“He didn't do anything. It was what he said and I'm not repeating it!”
Laura smiled to herself and ignored the angry glare she was getting from Sydney. “It's obvious you're crazy for each other.”
“You've lost your mind!”
The concert started on time and Ben hit the stage with a vengeance. Sydney had never seen him perform so aggressively. He was burning up the stage and every woman in the first ten rows was reaping the benefits of it.
Sydney did her best to stay out of his line of vision during the show, but several times he caught her movements and watched her until she drifted out of sight again. At the point of the show Ben typically removed his shirt, instead of tossing it into the front row as he usually did, he balled the garment up in his hands and threw it at Sydney. It landed a few feet from where she was standing. The smug look on his face told her it was no mistake. Sydney stepped around his discarded shirt and went off-stage.
After the show, Sydney waited until Ben and Simon had left the building before she ventured out the back exit. She saw the brothers leaving with two girls that were the stereotypical image of pole dancers, wearing tight tube tops, mini skirts, and platform shoes. Sydney laughed to herself and waved for a taxi.
Fifteen minutes later, a taxi dropped Sydney at the entrance to an all-night diner. She entered the 1950's looking restaurant and took a booth by the front window, then spread out her laptop computer and a note pad. A waitress brought a cup of fresh black coffee and Sydney quickly went to work.
She was deep in thought when she heard the bells jingle on the diner door announcing new customers. If it hadn't been for the female giggles, Sydney might not have bothered to raise her head from her work. But, the laughter had such an annoying pitch to it, Sydney was compelled to look, then immediately regretted her decision. The new patrons to the diner were Ben and Simon with their ‘dates’ in tow.
Sydney swore to herself and covered her face with her hand, praying Ben wouldn't notice her sitting in the booth. A moment later, he was standing beside her table. Sydney lifted her eyes to him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Working.”
“You're always working,” he said, and sat uninvited across the table from her.
“That's what you hired me to do, isn't it?”
She watched Simon and the two girls take a private booth in the back of the restaurant, then her attention returned to her computer.
The waitress stopped at their table and poured Ben a mug of coffee, took his food order, then scurried on to the next table.
“We don't expect you to work twenty-four hours a day,” Ben said. “You're allowed to have some down time.”
Sydney looked across the table at him. “What you see me do at the venue is only part of the job.”
Ben leaned forward with interest. “What are you doing now?”
“I'm logging in digital images, making some edit notes and a few adjustments to the color and composition. After I finish that, I might email a couple to your art department and my agent.”
“You can do all that from your computer?”
“This has a photo retouching program in it. I can do quite a bit of work, without needing a photo lab.”
“Are those the shots from tonight's show?” he asked. He moved around the table and sat down beside her.
He sat so quickly, Sydney had no time to back away. He was close - too close, and it made her stiffen in the seat.
“Can I see a few?” he asked, and reached for the computer screen to turn it toward him. In the process, his arm brushed against hers and their eyes met.
“I can't see the pictures if you keep the screen facing you,” he said.
He felt her recoil from his touch and wished he could look at her just once and not see uncertainty and distrust written all over her beautiful face.
She turned the computer, then looked up at him. For the first time, she noticed tiny flecks of brown in his otherwise green eyes. The power of them was intense. Sydney quickly turned her head away.
“You're too close, Ben,” she said, and shifted on the cushion to create a safer distance between them.
Ben studied the digital images on the screen. “These are really good, Syd. It was a great show, but these shots make it look even better.” He pointed the screen back at her.
“I want to apologize for my behavior earlier,” he said softly, and without any lead-in to the subject.
“I'm sorry I slapped your face,” Sydney said.
“I definitely could have done without that,” he said. “You really pissed me off, Syd, but that slap made me go out and perform one of the best shows I can remember. I'm thinking I might have you slap me before all our shows.”
“I doubt it would have the same effect a second time,” Sydney said.
The waitress appeared with Ben's food and interrupted a heated glance between them that was making Sydney sweat.
“Which side of the table will you
be eating?” the waitress asked Ben.
“He's eating over there,” Sydney said, and pointed to the opposite side of the table.
The waitress left the plate of scrambled eggs and toast and went back to the kitchen. Ben moved around the table and began shaking salt over his breakfast.
“I can take a hint, Syd.”
Sydney watched him eat for a few seconds until his eyes hit her again.
“So, what's your story, Syd?” he asked.
“I don't have one.”
“Everyone has a story. How about I tell you mine, and then you can tell me yours.”
“I already know yours.”
“I doubt that,” he said, and took a gulp of coffee.
Sydney raised her eyes to his. “I've worked with enough musicians to know you're cut from the same cloth and all your stories are consistent.”
Ben laughed. “Not mine.”
She studied him thoughtfully, tapping her index finger against her lips. “I'm willing to bet you never finished high school because all you were interested in was music - and girls. You come from a broken home and had at least one addiction that put you in rehab. Probably a half dozen offenses on your criminal record, and maybe some jail time and I'm guessing at least one divorce to your name, with a couple of kids by different women. How am I doing so far?” she smiled with smugness.
“You're not even close,” he laughed.
“Okay, enlighten me.”
“Not only did I graduate high school, but I finished tenth in my class. Then, I did two years of college before dropping out the summer before my junior year. My parents are still married, so the home is still intact. I've had no addictions, which means I've never seen the inside of a rehab facility, except as a visitor. Never married, and I have no kids - at least that I'm aware of,” he smiled. “You did get one thing right, though. I had a few minor juvenile offenses on my criminal record, but they were expunged when I turned eighteen.”
“I stand corrected,” Sydney said.
“So much for your generalizations.”
“Was music your major?” she asked.
“Business,” he said, taking a sip from his coffee mug. “I did the two years before I realized a degree in business was my father's dream - not mine,” he said. “My father gave me one year to prove myself in music and if I failed, I'd have to work for him in the family business. Lucky for me, ten months into that year, we got our first record deal. Good thing, because I never would have lasted working on my father's cattle ranch.”
