With the Band (With the Band #1)

by Natasha Preston

  When they cut to a break, Jodie wanders over. “Thank you, Vanessa.”

  “You’re welcome. It was a pleasure having them on the show.”

  Cooper’s gaze locks on Vanessa, eye-fucking her in front of a roomful of people.

  I clear my throat. “Yeah, thanks. We should be going though, right?”

  We need to get Cooper out of here before he takes her on the fucking sofa.

  Jodie’s hand snatches Coop’s upper arm. “Absolutely. We can’t be late!”

  Scowling, Coop lets Jodie pull him off the set.

  “Honestly, Jack, I don’t know where your head is sometimes. If you must, call her after you’ve given the performance of a lifetime.”

  She lets go, and he throws his arm over her shoulder.

  “I plan to, Jodie! She’s even hotter in the flesh. And I want to see her flesh. And call me Cooper!”

  “I bet you’re glad you took on a band, right?” Milo says to Jodie.

  “Best thing I’ve ever done,” she mutters sarcastically.

  Four hours later, Enigma is performing their encore. I watch Mark in awe, still envious of the way he owns the arena and every person in it. Watching him is a privilege. I try to memorise how he does it, but it’s not something that can be replicated. It’s pure talent that bleeds on the stage every time he stands upon it. We all have our own way of doing things, and I’d never want to be a carbon copy of him, not really. But I can’t help wish that I’d gotten there first.

  I take my phone out of my pocket and send a message to my girl. She didn’t text or try to call me back after my failed attempt last night, and I’m trying not to analyse why.

  She’s starting to get bored of your lifestyle. It was different when it was her dad. Everything about this is different for her.

  Holding my phone in a death grip, I type. My heart is burning with the need to say what I want, but I hold back. Creating an argument isn’t going to help us.

  Going on soon. I miss you.

  While I wait for a reply that might or might not come, I text my nan, too.

  About to rock the fuck out of Arizona. Hope you and G are okay.

  Milo slaps me on the back. “A watched phone never beeps.”

  “She’s ignoring me.”

  “She’s probably busy. Do you think all Tex is doing is sitting down, waiting for contact? She’ll be off with Jennifer, partying, and sleeping with—”

  Fucker. I plant my fist in his arm. “You’re a dick.”

  He laughs and rubs the spot where I hit. “Come on, mate, get your head together. We need you focused out there.”

  My phone buzzes in my hand. “I’m all here, Milo.”

  I look down and sigh. It’s from my nan. She can manage to reply early in the morning over there, but Tex can’t.

  Watch your language. I can still put you over my knee. We’re fine. We love you, and we’re so proud. Grandad says rock on or rock hard or something to that effect. Stay safe.

  They will always be there. No matter what happens, what I do, how often I manage to get in touch, they will always be at home, and I will always be welcome.

  I love you guys.

  After I reply, I hand my phone to Jodie.

  Blowing out a breath, I close my eyes to regroup. When the band started getting recognised, I made a promise to myself and the band. We will never let the fans down. As heavily twisted up I am over Texas and our dwindling relationship, I have to do this.

  No one will ever leave saying our performance was shit. No one will ever want their money back.

  I rock back and forth on my feet as the crowd counts down from ten. Adrenaline pumps through my body, replacing blood, thought, and breath. I survive on the buzz, the performance, and the crowd alone.

  Nodding as I’m handed my mic, I walk ahead of Milo and Cooper and raise my hand in the air. The first wave of screams shakes the arena as we make our appearance.

  “Are you fucking ready, Arizona?” I shout.

  The second wave is louder, always louder. I laugh and face the crowd. It’s packed to the rafters, every seat is taken, and every inch of space is inhabited. Flashes from cameras and stripes of colour from glow sticks attack my eyes.

  “You can do better than that!” Cooper shouts. “Ladies, shirts up. Gentlemen…what the hell? Go for it!”

  He lifts his shirt, too, and at least three women in the front row faint.

  He’s such an exhibitionist.

  “Milo,” I say, “‘Quick’!”

  It’s the title of one of our most popular songs, and the crowd goes fucking wild.

  This is my first love. Always will be.

  TEXAS

  MONDAY, JULY 20

  NOTTING HILL, ENGLAND

  It’s been eight days since I’ve spoken to Kitt. I know what life is like on the road, so I know he’s flat-out busy, but I’m still pissed off. Our talk-until-we-fall-asleep pact has been forgotten. Logically, I know better, but I feel like I’ve been forgotten.

  We keep missing each other, and it’s not getting any easier.

  I press Cancel after another failed call and grit my teeth.

  You’re the one who left him and told him to live it up. You can’t be surprised that he is.

  Kitt means the world to me, and I want this experience to be epic for him, but I don’t know how to keep our relationship solid when we never talk.

  It’s terrifying.

  I understand I’ve been foolish and centred so much around him, but I can’t change that. For the longest time, Kitt has been the grand ultimate prize, and he’s not something I want to lose.

  But how would we cope if things fell apart like this every time he was away?

  I can give him space to do his thing, but I can’t have radio silence, like we don’t exist. There is no time off our relationship. No matter how much I love him, we’re full-time or nothing at all. He has to make the effort to call at least every two days.

  “Texas, darling,” Mother drawls, “are you ready?”

  I sigh and rub my forehead.

  I actually enjoyed watching her last shoot; it was enlightening. There’s much more to it than sitting still and looking pretty. So, I agreed to go again today, but after my failed attempt to get ahold of Kitt, I’m not feeling all that up to leaving the house. Human contact will not be good for me today.

  “Sure,” I reply, rolling over just as she comes into my room.

  “Oh, Texas,” she says, staring at me like I’m a hobo.

  “What? Do I look that bad?” I look in the mirror. Yes, I do look that bad.

  “We have to leave in ten minutes,” Jennifer says. “Sit down. I’ll do your hair and makeup.”

  She’s going to make you into a mini her.

  At least she knows what she wants and goes after it. I can’t even get my fucking boyfriend to have a conversation with me. Perhaps a mini Jennifer is exactly what I need to be for a while.

  I get up, pad over the thick pile carpet to my vanity table, and sit down on the romantic, chic stool. Not only do I not look good, I also don’t look like me. Gone is the colour in my cheeks and the light from my eyes. I look lost and kind of like a scared child.

  You weren’t brought up to pin everything on a man!

  Enough. Enough now.

  Swallowing shame and uncertainty, I straighten my back. “What are you going to do with my hair then, Mum?”

  “A few more curls. Your hair is naturally very beautiful, as is your face. We’re just going to hide those sad eyes.”

  I tear my eyes away from her reflection. Shit, it’s obvious?

  “Don’t be embarrassed, Texas. You love him, and you’re allowed to be upset if things aren’t happening the way you hoped.”

  “I just wish he’d call.” I need to hear his voice. “But if you see me wallowing again, please slap me across the head. Get me looking human, and let’s do this shoot.”

  She smiles and captures my long hair in her hands. “You want to try?”

  I
shrug. “Think I’ll be allowed?”

  “Do I think the photographer will want a mother-daughter shoot with Jennifer Star and Texas Knight?”

  Laughing, I pick up a hairbrush and hand it to her over my shoulder.

  She takes it and slowly drags it through my hair. “I’ve missed this over the years, haven’t I?”

  It would’ve been nice. Dad picked up the slack on that one, too. It’s probably why I don’t bother much with it. He’s a brush-it-or-tie-it-up kind of man. There is no in between, no fancy updos.

  She effortlessly curls my hair so fast that her arms look like she’s doing the Macarena. It’s stylishly messy and looks so good that I can’t believe it’s my hair. Some of it is up, and a few strands hang down, making it look like it’s just been thrown together. It’s the hair I hate on when I see it in a magazine because I could never get it to look right.

  “Turn around, please,” she says. She kneels in front of me. Twisting the mascara brush, she gently slicks some on my lashes. “Just a little lipstick, and you’ll be done. I envy your looks, Texas. You always look so flawless.”

  I choke on the irony. “You’ve been voted Sexiest Woman of the Year twice, and you envy me for looking like I never try?” Is she for real?

  Jennifer never has a hair out of place. Everything about her is symmetrical and painfully perfect.

  “My looks take work, Texas. You’re ready.”

  She stands up and smiles. I dip my head. We’ve turned into mother and daughter.

  How the hell did that happen? The normalcy of it almost makes me feel uncomfortable.

  “Yep, let’s go.”

  My phone buzzes in my pocket.

  “I’ll get my shoes on. You deal with that,” she says, nodding to my phone.

  Heading to Vegas. Wish you were here.

  Short and sweet. In the beginning, I’d get essays from him and reply with a full-length book. Now, we boil everything down to the least amount of characters we can get away with as we update each other on our single lives.

  Heading to Jennifer’s shoot. Hopefully speak later.

  Tears spark behind my eyes. I don’t remember the last time we said, I love you.

  “Texas, we need to leave, darling!” Jennifer shouts from downstairs.

  Wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand, I’m grateful that Jennifer didn’t try to put foundation on my face and that she used waterproof mascara.

  The driver takes us into Chelsea where Jennifer’s shoot is. Houses around here are disgustingly expensive for the amount of space you get, but it’s one of the places to be.

  Ted is invading my personal space as we walk into the studio. “This will be interesting,” he mutters.

  “You’ll love it, Teddy.”

  He gives me a look. “Just behave yourself today. I’m tired, so don’t give me a lot to do.”

  “Oh, yeah? Good night, was it?”

  “You’re not cute. Go watch the modelling thing. I’ll be here if you need me.” He stops at the door and leans against the wall.

  This really isn’t his thing at all.

  “Texas, this is Derek Woods,” Jennifer says.

  I know Derek. He’s worked with Dad and Enigma a couple of times. He’s one of the most sought after photographers in the UK, so of course, Jennifer’s shoot is with him.

  “Texas, last time I saw you was…oh, a good five years ago. You’re beautiful, darling,” he says. He air-kisses both cheeks.

  I awkwardly make a kissing sound and smile. “Yeah, it was a while.”

  Okay, I can’t do small talk.

  “So, Jen-Jen, can we have you sitting front-to-back on the chair over there? Clara will come and get your top once it’s off.”

  “This is a topless shoot?” I ask, my eyes widening in pure horror. Why would she bring me to this one?

  In the corner, Ted chuckles.

  “Nothing will be on show,” Jennifer says, putting her hand on my arm in comfort. “All that will be visible is my back.”

  I laugh nervously. “Okay.”

  Derek’s work is always very tasteful and classy, so I hope this will be no different. I’m not a prude, but I don’t really want to see my mother’s assets. I didn’t even see them when I was an infant.

  Jennifer changes into the leather trousers she was given and keeps her top on until she’s over at the chair. There is no hesitation. She tugs her top off and hands it to Clara. Hair and makeup people descend upon her, so she sits perfectly still and closes her eyes. She’s a natural.

  No one is eyeing her up. They’re all here for a job, and she’s treated with the utmost respect. I stand behind the camera with Derek as he doles out instructions to Jen-Jen. Her eyes are alight when she’s in front of the camera and not just because of the crazy amount of molten-hot lights beaming in her face.

  Maybe I genuinely do want to try it.

  “Beautiful!” Derek compliments. “You’re perfect, darling. Head a little to the left. That’s it! Hold it there.”

  Jennifer’s neck is craned around for her to look back at the camera. If it’s uncomfortable, she’s not showing it.

  “Okay, take five. Can someone bring me the Armani? Jen-Jen, you will love this dress. I’ll need you over by the fireplace.”

  The set is reworked, so the lighting is perfect, and everything is in place for round two.

  My feet start to ache.

  “Great! We’re done,” he says after no less than seven bloody thousand clicks of his camera.

  Okay, maybe less, but it felt like thousands. Jennifer has been photographed in a number of different outfits and poses.

  “Oh, Derek, a couple with my daughter?” Jennifer asks. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Judy, get her ready!” He clicks his fingers, and Judy appears.

  I’m whisked away before I have time to speak, and then I’m shoved in a chair.

  All right, looks like I’m really giving this a go now.

  Whatever. You can’t deny that you want to. You’re intrigued, and after witnessing it, you know it’s not seedy.

  While I’m being pulled about, I can see some of Jennifer’s photos on the monitor. They’re all stunning. A lady, who I assume is from Vogue, as it’s their shoot, is pointing to different images with Jennifer.

  I’m a little nervous. I don’t want her to look at mine. I’m no model.

  “What’s Texas wearing?” Judy asks.

  Derek comes over and kneels beside me. “I’ve spoken to Jen-Jen, and she agrees that it would be perfect to get you in the same pose. Mother in leather trousers, daughter in leather shorts.” He’s animated as he talks.

  I feel hysteria rushing up my throat.

  He wants you to go topless.

  “I’m sorry. You want me to take my top off in front of everyone?” I splutter.

  “Derek, let me,” Jennifer says, floating over to us. “Darling, you saw my shoot. No one will be looking at you with anything but professionalism. It’s discreet. This is your decision, Texas, but make sure you’re making it because it’s what you want and not out of fear.”

  A rather large part of me wants Ted to step in. He knows exactly what Dad would say—or shout—but the side of me just starting to emerge wants full control over every decision. Jennifer is right. This is not up to anyone but me. I’m an adult, and I can make my choices.

  With my heart trying to shove its way through my chest cavity, I nod. “I want it to be done like my mum’s. I don’t want anyone to see.”

  Derek’s toothy smile is triumphant, but he respectfully raises his hands. “Absolutely, Texas. We’ll do this however you like. If you’re uncomfortable at any point, please speak up.”

  “I will!”

  Oh my God, what are you about to do?

  “Why don’t you get seated the way Jen-Jen did? And we’ll set up. I’ll let you know when to remove your top. Clara will be there to take it once you’re covered by the back of the chair. Does that sound okay?”

  Swallowing sand
, I nod again.

  Jennifer takes me over to the chair. She looks pleased but not smug, like I assumed she would be. “If you want that top back on or everyone but Derek to leave, you say. Derek might be the one running this show, but you are in charge.”

  “Okay,” I reply. I step over the chair so I’m facing the back, putting my legs either side, and sit down.

  “Are you sure?” she asks.

  “I’m sure, Mum.”

  With a genuine smile that makes my heart further thaw toward her, she backs away, murmuring, “I’m proud of you for taking charge, Texas.” She’s not talking about the shoot. She’s talking about my life.

  You can do this. Reach down, and take it off.

  I grip the bottom of my top and bring it over my head. Clara takes it along with my bra and backs off. Sitting half-naked, the wrong way around on a chair, in a roomful of people should make me self-conscious, but it doesn’t. I feel strong. The surge of self-assurance makes my heart speed up. I sit straighter, letting my spine stretch out.

  You can do this.

  The lights are adjusted, and my back heats. My hair is played with, and my face is powdered…and whatever else they’re slapping on.

  “Are you ready, Texas?” Derek asks as my hair and makeup ladies retreat.

  I look over my shoulder and hold my head up. “I’m ready.”

  I risk a glance at Ted. Surprisingly, he looks proud and also a little awkward.

  “That’s it. Hold your head there and smile. Lovely. Now, tilt your head down. Okay, slightly arch your back, put your hands behind you, and twist to the left.”

  I know I’ve got side-boob action going on, but I don’t care. I follow Derek’s instructions and pose how he’s asked.

  You like this. You fucking like it!

  “Beautiful! Tip your head back and to the right—there! Hold that. Perfect. Stunning, Texas.”

  I want to hire him to follow me around and give me compliments all day because the man is amazing for self-esteem.

  He lowers his camera. “Well, that was incredible. Would you like to dress and have a couple taken with your mum?”

  The lady from Vogue gasps. “That would be wonderful! Jennifer?”

  Mum smiles. “A mother-daughter article?”