The Rhythm

by Moira Callahan

  He knew Jeremy would understand. For all the members of Victorious, they used their music to get to a clear headspace. For Lance, it was banging away on the drums until he’d burned through everything clogging him up. Jeremy usually hit the piano and often came up with some of their best songs when he finally cleared the muck away. While they all could play a wide variety of instruments, they each fell back onto their go-to instrument when their lives were spinning wildly.

  “Well then, go and attempt to wake the neighbors, bro.”

  “Hard to do with the sound proofing I have at my place.” A necessity when you never knew what time of the night or day you’d be up at. Then there was the other factor of temperamental artistic types with hair-trigger tempers. Never a good idea to wake them up when they were actually getting some sleep.

  “I have faith in you. If you truly wanted to get the cute neighbor’s attention you’d figure a way to do it. Go on, and get out of here. We only have a day before we leave. Get your head screwed on straight, and we’ll go from there.”

  Knowing Jeremy was right, Lance finished off his beer and left his friend sitting in the warm night air. Setting his bottle in the kitchen, he headed out. He cut through the “yards” to his place and slipped inside. As he moved deeper into the house, he kicked off his runners. Yanking off his shirt, he headed up to the second floor. With a quick stop in his room, he tossed the shirt into the hamper. Then he went to the room that held only one item, his drum set.

  It wasn’t the set he took on tour; this was a set he used purely to beat on. They were his first set of drums he’d owned paid for with money he’d earned doing too many odd jobs to try to remember. It was the set he’d learned on, and the set he’d had reskinned countless times. They were his babies that he’d have until the end of days.

  Easing around the set, he settled down on the stool. He stroked a hand over the skin of the snare drum lightly before scooping up the drumsticks resting there. Lance allowed his eyelids to close, rolled his head around on his neck, and spun the sticks between his fingers. He didn’t know what would come out. It might be music, or it might just be noise. Whatever it was, he’d go with it until his mood changed, and then he’d go with whatever else might break free.

  He lowered his hands to the snare drum and moved his foot onto the pedal. Lance didn’t bother to look as he began to tap the pedal slowly to create a driving beat on the bass drum. Shifting his hands slightly, he tapped a drumstick to the snare slowly. From that point, he stopped thinking and let whatever was inside take over.

  As was typical during his private sessions with his drums, he lost all track of time. When he finally surfaced, he was dripping sweat, panting, and his arms felt heavy with exhaustion. Sucking in a breath, he set the drumsticks down and wiped his hands over his cheeks. He needed a shower and a couple gallons of water to rehydrate.

  Grabbing up one of the towels he kept on a shelf by his drum stool, Lance wiped his face and chest down as he left the room. He tossed the towel into the hamper as he went into his bathroom. Dropping his pants, he stepped into the shower and wrenched on the water.

  With a sigh, he pressed his forehead to the tile as the water pelted over his shoulders and back. While he’d been drumming his thoughts had stilled, calmed. Thoughts of Jennifer hadn’t been able to intrude during that time. Now that he was without the distraction of the beat, everything from the night rushed back in.

  Yet again he questioned his sanity in talking the other guys into letting her go on tour with them. It was either going to be a great thing or explode in front of him. He had to figure out a way to get beyond his idiotic infatuation with her. Lance didn’t understand why he was drawn to her. Until dinner at Jeremy’s, he’d never met the woman.

  There had been something in her writing, in the many articles he’d devoured until he could practically recite them all from memory that had called to him. They’d be fucked if he’d made the wrong call. Christine would roast his nuts over an open fire for sure. Likely while they were still attached his body. He’d also lose the trust of his bandmates and friends.

  He knew Jeremy would stick by him, they had a bond deeper than brothers, but the others would all take a step back. They all had secrets they’d rather not have bared. It was a sentiment he understood. There was something different about Jennifer, something that made him want to tell her everything, to bare his entire soul to her.

  Dumb, extremely dumb. While his secrets may not be the sort to stop the world from spinning or start a war, they were his. Had he made the wrong call all based on how he reacted to a picture of a girl? Jesus, what if he had?

  Groaning, he washed up quickly and climbed out of the shower. While towel drying his hair, he heard something that could have been the doorbell. Frowning, Lance wrapped the towel around his waist, tucking the end in to secure it, and went to investigate.

  A look through the security hole of his front door had him sucking in a breath. Holy shit. What was she doing there? Another look showed her lifting her fist to knock. Wrenching the door open, he stared down at her while her fist hovered between them for a one-two beat of time before falling to her side.

  Jennifer’s gaze dropped to his chest, and her eyes went wide. It took every ounce of his self-restraint to resist puffing up to preen. Especially when her gaze continued down his body before sliding up to once again meet his gaze. “Problem?” he asked. Lance found he was fighting a grin as she blushed while shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

  “I, uh, shit,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I can’t get the A/C to shut off in the guest house, and I’m freezing to death.”

  Her words took a couple of seconds to sink in and soon had him frowning. “Shit, I thought they’d gotten that fixed. The controller sticks occasionally. Come on in and warm up for a minute while I grab some pants. I’ll go back over with you to get it to a temperature that hopefully is comfortable for you for the night.”

  “You don’t have to get dressed for me,” she said. Suddenly she slapped a hand to her mouth, her cheeks practically glowing bright red. “Shit, I didn’t mean that like it sounded. If you’ll tell me how to fix it, I’m sure I can manage.”

  Chuckling, he backed up a step and waved her inside his home. “It’s an older system with more than a few quirks. It’ll be quicker if I do it for you.” He told her to come in yet again as he turned to head up the hall. Jogging up the stairs, Lance felt the towel slipping and grabbed at it. Then his wicked side kicked in, and as he turned to disappear from her line of sight, he let it slip free to flash her a view. The sharp inhale from the front hall was a balm to his previous doubts and worries. It definitely stroked his ego back into better health. Now if only he could talk her into stroking other parts of his anatomy he’d be golden.

  Chapter Five

  The sight of Lance West’s toned, tanned ass would forever be burned into Jen’s brain. Fuck, it would likely torment her for the entire time she was with the band. It would definitely star in her dreams she knew.

  Fanning herself, she wondered if she should run back to the place she was staying in to cool off. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her sudden departure. Yeah, right. The man seemed to notice too much for her own peace of mind. He’d been extremely attentive to her all through the dinner. Ensuring she’d always had a full glass, that she’d eaten enough of the meal they’d prepared, and that she’d had a snack for later if she’d gotten hungry.

  She let out a groan as she pressed her hands to her too-hot cheeks. She’d never survive the portion of the tour she was going with them on if this was how she reacted to him. Continued exposure to him would be bad. Or it would cure her.

  That thought had her dropping her hands as she considered the angle. He was a rock star. While he wasn’t the wildest one of the bunch, she knew what went on behind the scenes especially out on tours. She didn’t live in some glass bubble. She did have contacts in the industry with stories to share and those they’d told her when she’d asked pract
ically curled her toes.

  The drugs, drinking, sleeping with any girl that threw herself at them, and occasionally multiple partners in a night. Band members left more broken hearts behind than any playboy she’d heard of making the play. All she had to do was survive his overwhelming presence long enough for the glare to be rubbed down to a dull sheen. Once she saw him in action, with the groupies flinging themselves his way, it would temper whatever insanity currently brewed inside her.

  She felt both better at the thought and sickened. Jen didn’t know what was wrong with her, but the idea of him taking a strange woman to his bed made her chest ache. She was losing it. She didn’t know the guy and here she was having weird-ass reactions to him. This was not her.

  A hand touched her shoulder. “Jennifer?”

  Jumping at the sound of his voice, completely caught off guard, she spun around with a hand pressed to her chest. “Jesus! Do I need to put bells on you?”

  Lance gave her a puzzled look. “I called out to you when I came down the stairs. Is everything okay?”

  She rubbed her hand over her thundering heart while feeling like a total idiot. “Sorry, I was lost in my head. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

  “No worries, not the first time someone’s done it, doubt it’ll be the last.”

  Jen wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Uh, we should go.” Definitely the best idea. Standing as close to Lance as she was, Jen became too aware of the heat of the man. He was fully clothed and all she wanted to do was strip him down until he was naked once more.

  He stared at her for a few more seconds that felt like hours before he stepped back to wave her to proceed him. Making tracks out of his house, she made her way quickly next door to her temporary home away from home. She hadn’t realized she was going to be sleeping that close to him. Something else she knew her mind would fixate on when she eventually got to sleep. If she got to sleep. At the rate she was going she’d be lucky to get in a catnap.

  The chilly interior of the house quickly brought her mind back to task. Shivering, she rubbed her arms while Lance moved over to the controller. He pulled the front panel off, played with the interior bits, and then frowned. He did something else and shook his head. “Sorry to say, but it’s fried. Damn thing is stuck on the full-blast mode. Let me check the control panel. There should be a breaker to shut off the A/C specifically. Unfortunately, that means it could be quite toasty in here come tomorrow.”

  “I’ll open a window,” she said. “And there are ceiling fans in more than one room. I’d rather be too warm than have my teeth chipped from all the chattering.”

  He chuckled at that and gave a nod. “Valid point. Give me a couple of minutes.”

  She watched him disappear toward the kitchen. Jen could have followed after him but didn’t think it was a good idea. She was too aware of the man. It would be better once the rest of the band was with them. It had to be.

  The only other problem she thought might crop up was their living situation on the tour. The band always rented out the presidential suite of the various hotels. It meant tight quarters, luxurious for sure, but still a bit close for comfort. She didn’t know how it would all work. The guys were used to it of course. Jen, on the other hand, was the outsider, interloper, and sixth wheel on their normally smooth running system.

  “All right. I threw the breaker for the A/C,” Lance told her, coming back into the room.

  Tipping her chin, Jen listened but could no longer hear the hum of the unit. “Thank God,” she muttered. “Thank you, Lance.”

  “You’re quite welcome, Jennifer.” His reply was as prim as hers had been. But he was grinning at her.

  She rolled her eyes, no other response seemed fitting of his mockery. Moving to the door, she held it open while giving him what she hoped was a pointed look.

  “No need to get your knickers in a twist, Ms. Jenny. I’m going.” Still grinning like a fool, he sauntered to her and then stopped in the doorway. “If you need anything, anything at all, you be sure to let me know.”

  He’d lowered his voice to a sensual level that did things to her she didn’t want to think about while he was watching. “I’ll keep that in mind, good night.”

  “Sweet dreams,” he taunted. With a wink, he stepped outside and, heading for his place, he began to whistle a tune she recognized. She couldn’t name it, but it was something about the sandman.

  Shaking her head, she closed and locked the door. With a groan, she lightly banged her head on the surface. It was going to be a long night.

  ****

  The sounds of many male voices, some banging, and the crisp tones of Christine Franks finally pulled her out of her restless sleep. Groaning, Jen grabbed her phone to check the time. She let rip a curse when she realized she’d maybe gotten four hours of sleep. Total.

  As predicted, she’d tossed and turned for a long time. When she had drifted off, the image of Lance’s perfect ass had invaded her mind. Only in her head, he’d stopped, twisted at the waist, and crooked a finger at her. She’d woken each time either in denial or, more often than not, with need making her body throb.

  Knowing she wouldn’t be getting any more sleep, she shoved the twisted sheet from around her legs and stumbled from the bed to the bathroom. A shower would wake her up. Luckily she’d had the sense to put out a few things the night before, ensuring she didn’t need to fumble through her bag for her toiletries.

  The shower cleared out more of the fog from her head. Blow-drying her hair helped give her a few minutes without all those voices outside to bother her. Then she dressed, packed up her stuff, and knew it was time to venture outside. It was departure day for everyone, and the first day of pure torture for her.

  The day was already warm when she stepped out her door. Shade was the first to spot her, lifting a hand to greet her. She returned the gesture as the others turned to look at her. Jeremy lifted his chin in greeting. Understandable given his hands were full.

  Lance gave her a grin and winked. Chase and Mark were whispering among themselves before giving her finger waves. Grinning at them, she moved closer to see what was going on.

  “We’re getting the last pieces ready to go to the airport and loaded on the plane. These will travel with the guys to be there upon arrival.” Christine Franks was next to her and gave Jen an unreadable look. “Did you sleep well?”

  A loaded question in Jen’s mind. She couldn’t decide if it was an honest question from the other woman or a possible comment on her less than stellar appearance. “Not all that well actually, but I always have trouble the first couple of nights when I’m away from home. After that exhaustion kicks in and it doesn’t matter where I am, I’ll fall asleep.”

  “I’m sure the long nights ahead will help as well.”

  Right, there was that. Not exactly a minor detail. Jen was naturally a night owl, but the band apparently took it to a whole new level she wasn’t sure she was ready for. Maybe missing most of her sleep last night was a blessing in disguise. She could sleep on the flight to their first destination and force her body into a new sleep pattern. If she was lucky. But she wouldn’t be holding her breath on that one.

  She had visions of being a snarling beast for the first week of the tour. Likely without getting any work done because of the lack of sleep. Which would be about the time the band decided to kick her ass to the curb. Completely understandable actually. She didn’t much like herself when she was running in the sleep-deprived mode.

  “Do you travel with the band for the trip?”

  “I don’t travel with them, no. I always head out ahead of them to each stop to ensure everything is in place, check that all their equipment arrived with the roadies and generally smooth out any wrinkles that might crop up.”

  Jen hadn’t been expecting an answer. Why she hadn’t, she couldn’t figure out. She had been given insider access the likes of which had never before been seen. Of course that one she was still working to puzzle through the whys of as well.


  “What sort of wrinkles?”

  “All kinds of things from making sure the backstage area for the band before, at intermission, and of course after the show is properly secure. We have a specific set of requirements for the area and occasionally the locations like to test me.”

  Jen had the impression that individual only had the one chance to make a good impression with Christine Franks before finding a new job.

  “I also make sure that any of the drinks and foods are looked over by the security team to ensure no tampering. That there are no floral arrangements in the space I haven’t specifically ordered, and then I still proceed to give them a once-over for any recording devices.”

  “Does that sort of thing happen often?”

  “From time to time someone has the balls to try. It’s my job to protect the boys from all sides, and I take my job extremely seriously. We all took a risk together in the beginning and it’s paid off. They gave my agency the jump-start it desperately needed to get some credit, and I can never truly repay them. I take it as a personal affront when someone tries to hurt them. Whether it’s an invasion of their space, their privacy, or writing lies about them. It’s my personal mission to hunt those individuals down and ensure they regret the day they were given life.”

  Swallowing hard, Jen she stared at the other woman. Holy mother of God, what the hell had she gotten herself into? Not that she planned to do anything to hurt the band, but she did plan to be completely honest. Their fans, and the world in general, needed to be told the truth in the media. There was too much sensationalism out there as it was, and it went against who Jen was. She let her editor do what he wanted with the titles of her pieces, but anything else she was nearly as passionate about protecting as Christine was toward the band.

  Odd that she might actually have something in common with the intimidating woman. Mildly terrifying as well. “Have there been many instances of fans trying to get at the band during their downtime?” Jen felt the desperate need to know that answer. Mostly for her own sense of safety.