As time ticked down, she directed people to scatter so the models could line up. She'd put Luke last in line to give him enough time to get ready.
The music began, a thundering beat to set the tone. One by one, the models processed across the stage, then down the runway in dramatic fashion.
Ready or not, the show had begun.
***
Luke waited at the side of the stage. Stage lights—fine. A crowd watching him—not a problem. But singing was one thing, walking a runway was another. As the other model came up the runway and exited stage-left, Audrey nudged his arm. "Now."
The spotlight rested on him. Luke walked across the low stage, then turned onto the catwalk. The runway was only a foot about the floor. He could step off it and walk right into the crowd. The music changed—his cue to stroll down. One foot, then the other. He didn't smile because models on the runway never smiled. Plus, he didn't belong there. He felt like an impostor, but he'd do anything for Audrey. Halfway down, he spotted his band sitting at the end. Zander, Brendan, and Landry all grinned, calling out suggestions and encouragement, and taking pictures.
His skin heated. Damn it. Scowling, he did his best to ignore his band.
When he reached them, Brendan jumped up and held up his phone. "You clean up nice, man. Take a pic with me? The fans will go nuts."
"Sit down." But he paused for a second to let Brendan get the shot he wanted. And then came the easy task of walking back. When he reached the edge of the stage, he turned and waited with the other models.
Audrey made her way across the stage, shining in a bronze dress sprinkled with sequins and a tiny, shrunken black leather jacket that fit her like a second skin. She didn't walk the runway, but stood in the center of the stage. Applause burst in waves from the crowd, and Luke joined in. He followed the other models as they formed a line behind her across the stage. Pride for her filled him to bursting.
And then, the runway portion and his brief career as a model were over.
Backstage again, he waited as she thanked each model individually. Then she turned to him and slipped her arms around his waist. "You did a great job. Thank you so much for filling in."
"Anything for you." He bent to kiss her. "I'm so proud of you."
Someone called her name from across the room. She drew back. "I have to go."
"Have fun, work that room. I'll find you after the party." He let her go and went in search of his band mates.
Music flowed and lights shimmered, wait staff worked the room with champagne and food, and the models mingled with the attendees. People stood in small clusters, smiling, talking, drinking, eating, and best of all, complimenting Audrey's clothes.
Zander and the guys stood by the stage. Luke dodged a few people admiring one of the models and came face to face with Owen.
Shit. He'd managed to avoid the jerk earlier and had hoped to get through the day without crossing paths.
"Good for you, finding a fall back career." Owen set his empty glass on a passing waiter's tray.
Luke's promise to Audrey echoed in his head. He would not get sucked in. "Fuck off."
"You'll need a new career, after the way you screwed up your last tour. That arrest for drinking while boating—which I found funny as hell, by the way. Then the bar fight, and then you no-showing to that concert. Class act stuff. I shared those headlines around as much as I could. Did you notice that? Just like I'll share the next one. Because there will be a next one. Face it, you're a fuck up, and you're going to fuck up this Furious Records idea too. I can't wait to see you fail."
Don't give him the satisfaction... Luke crossed his arms over his chest. If they were crossed, he couldn't punch the bastard. "Do you spend all your time focusing on me? I'm flattered."
Eyes narrowed, Owen stepped into Luke's space. "Don't be."
"Back off, man."
"You going to make me?"
Hands itching to fight, anger pounding in his veins, Luke turned away. To his right, Vanessa strode toward them, probably rushing to run interference. She stepped into a small puddle of spilled wine on the floor. Her foot slipped forward and her body swayed backward and her eyes went wide.
"Hey." Luke moved fast, grabbing her arms. Her hands landed on his shoulders, pulling at the fabric.
Once he'd righted her, something hard slammed into the center of his back. "Keep your hands off her."
Pain bloomed and radiated to his arms. Luke spun to face Owen. "Maybe if you'd been paying more attention to her, I wouldn't have had to save her."
"Fuck you." Owen's fist flew forward, heading for Luke's face.
Luke threw up his arm to block it, and then countered with a left hook. "Asshole."
Owen's head snapped back, and then he launched at Luke, grabbed him by the waist and tackled him. Concrete slammed into his back, winding him. Owen's fist connected with his jaw. Luke's teeth clacked together. Hopefully, it wasn't broken. He grappled with him, throwing his full weight, and succeeded in reversing their positions. He landed a few quick jabs to Owen's ribs.
Footsteps and shots echoed around them.
"Stop it!"
"Luke!"
Anger burned through his veins. Goddamn Owen. He'd been waiting for an opportunity to smash his face for years. They rolled around on the floor. Owen sputtered curses as he landed blows, blood dripping from his nose. Luke's jaw ached, his hand hurt, and breath burned in and out of his lungs, but he shoved back hard, giving as good as he got.
Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and hauled him away from Owen.
"What the hell?" He jerked his head around. Zander and Brendan held him in a tight grip.
A few feet away, Landry and a security guard had a similar grip on Owen's shoulders.
Zander leaned in. "You okay? What the hell happened?"
The silence blanketing the room was deafening. Then the click of heels sounded. A single pair, making their way in his direction.
Luke turned toward the sound.
Audrey.
And she looked as upset as a drummer who'd just had his sticks broken.
Chapter Nine
Audrey stood between Luke and Owen. Noise from their altercation had pulled her away from a discussion about creating designs for a new all-woman rock band. When she'd heard the first crash, she'd thought someone had fallen. When she'd heard the shouts and scuffling and Luke and Owen snarling at each other, dread and worry had taken hold, until anger had overtaken everything.
Aware of every eye in the place focused on her, she squeezed her fists until her nails threatened to bite into her palms. The pain helped her keep her voice even. "Luke and Owen, let's clear this matter up in the dressing room. Everyone, please enjoy the party. Fresh champagne will be circulating shortly."
Music resumed and Renee gave her a nod as she passed. "I'll handle the crowd out here, boss."
In the dressing room, Audrey whirled to face Luke, supported by Zander and Brendan, and Owen, still restrained by Landry and the security guard. Vanessa, Irisa, and Jayne filed in behind.
"You have two seconds to tell me what the hell happened out there."
"He touched my girl." Owen shrugged away from his restraints, but Landry, Zander, and Brendan still blocked his access to Luke.
The muscles in Luke's arms tightened like he anticipated an attack. "Her arms. Preventing her from falling. And you know that's true."
"Luke's right." Vanessa's soft voice was a huge contrast to the booming argument.
"And that turned into you beating each other out there?" Audrey shook her head. "I really don't want to hear any more. Owen, I think it's best if you leave. Vanessa, thank you for working today's show. You don't have to stick around until the end."
Owen pushed his way out of the room, flipping off Luke one last time. Vanessa made quiet apologies and exited behind him. The security guard followed, murmuring he'd watch over the pair until they vacated the building.
Audrey took in Luke's disheveled state. He had red marks on his face,
Owen's blood on his shirt, and a rip at the knee of his left pant leg. "And you. What the hell? Can't you control your temper? You don't settle arguments that way."
Rubbing his jaw, Luke glared at the door Owen had exited. "He started it."
"Oh for—" She pushed her hair out of her face. "Are you kidding me? 'He started it?' This isn't a playground fight. This is my business, my livelihood, and you ruined my show. I don't care what kind of history you guys have. You've embarrassed me in front of my current clients, possible future clients, and the media."
His shoulders lifted and then he glanced at the ground for a moment before rubbing his hand over his neck. "I'm sorry."
"You promised me." The words whispered out, as shaky as her hold on her tears. She'd told him how important the show was to her. "You promised you would get along."
"Sunshine, listen—"
"Please leave." She couldn't talk to him. Not now, not here. Too many emotions swirled and too many people hovered. She would not create another scene.
"Audrey."
She held up her hand, held him away. "Leave. I really can't talk to you now. I don't want to say something I'll end up regretting."
"But—"
Something inside was threatening to shake loose. She'd either burst into tears or bust out a punch of her own. Her muscles shook with the effort to control herself. "Luke, I really need you to leave me alone."
Brendan placed his hand on Luke's shoulder. "Come on, bud. Let's go."
Zander flanked his other side, gently easing him away. "Let's get you back to the hotel and cleaned up."
Landry joined them. "You need ice and pain relievers. You're going to feel like hell in the morning."
When the door closed behind Landry, Audrey turned away, breathing deep. Hurt, anger, embarrassment, and annoyance fought for dominance.
"What can we do to help?" Irisa stepped closer, but still kept some distance.
"I need to go out there and mingle and get people to talk about the clothes." Not at all what she felt like doing. She could barely wrap her head around what had happened.
Irisa closed the distance between them and hugged her. "It'll be fine. We'll help. I've been promoting your clothes for years. Jayne has worked with bands that have worked with you, too. She can attest for how amazing the clothes look on stage."
"True." Jayne smiled and walked toward the door. "Now let's sell those clothes."
Two hours later, the party had ended, the models had gone home, and Audrey sat in her studio with Renee, Irisa, and Jayne. "They ruined my show. All anyone wanted to talk about was the two of them."
Renee glanced up from rearranging some fabric swatches. "There's no such thing as bad publicity."
"Really? Because the domestic violence program's director didn't seem too thrilled with what had happened. She said I'll hear from her by Monday. I have a feeling I can kiss that partnership goodbye."
"You don't know that yet." Renee was determined to be an optimist.
"I think so when people are mostly going to be talking about how two famous rockers turned my show into their own boxing ring. Screw the clothes, let's focus on the fact that these two idiots have a new item to add to their feud." Seething, Audrey scrolled through mentions of the fight from several media outlets. "See? It's already happening that way. And the fact that I'm involved with one of them? That my own boyfriend doesn't even respect my wishes enough to control himself?"
"That's the real reason you're angry." Irisa put her hand on her shoulder. "I love Luke like he's my own brother. There have been times he's done things that make me want to throttle him, but underneath it all, he really is a good guy."
"He wouldn't set out to deliberately hurt you either." Jayne played with the heart-shaped pendant dangling from her necklace. "I think you'll end up getting more business. Most people who attended will feel sympathy for you because of it, and may double the number of pieces they were planning on purchasing. And on that note, there are three designs I saw that I'd like to buy for myself, and four more that I think would look amazing on Zander."
"Oh," Renee waved her hand. "I want that light pink dress with the leather and studs."
"Me too," Irisa chimed in. "And I want you to custom-make Dom's and the groomsmen tuxes for the wedding. You can do that, can't you?"
Her mood lightened and Audrey couldn't fight the beginning of a smile. "Guys, how am I supposed to stay angry when you're being so nice to me?"
"You're not." Renee tapped her on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go out and celebrate a successful show."
"Successful?"
"Okay, let's drink wine and go dancing and forget about our men."
"I'm in." But it would take a hell of a lot of wine and a hell of a lot of dancing to make her forget.
***
After a restless night in his lonely hotel bed with a bottle of pain reliever and guilt as his companion, Luke trudged down to the hotel's restaurant for breakfast with the band. The guys had hung out with him for most of the night, keeping him calm enough that he hadn't gone looking for Owen or done anything else stupid, and keeping his spirits from dropping too far into black. He needed to talk to Audrey, had taken his phone out several times to call her, but her request to be left alone had stopped him from dialing every time.
Not in the mood to talk to anyone else, he pulled his baseball cap low and entered the restaurant. The band crowded around one round table in a sectioned-off nook. Grateful for the privacy, he joined them. Landry and Brendan sprawled on one side of the table, with Irisa, Zander, and Jayne on the other.
He nodded at their greetings and eased his body into the open chair between Brendan and Jayne. His back, knee, and side exploded in pain. Goddamn Owen.
His throbbing muscles protested as he reached for the pot of coffee at the center of the table. Knuckles swollen, he couldn't even grip the handle. "Fuck it," he muttered.
"Let me," Jayne said, taking pity on him and pouring the steaming liquid into his cup.
"Thank you." His jaw hurt, but he could talk without too much soreness and his beard mostly hid the large bruise blooming there.
She set the creamer and sugar by his cup. "How are you feeling today?"
"Like I was in a fight."
Brendan passed him platters of eggs, toast, and bacon. "You look like you lost it, too."
"Funny." He smirked and slid a portion of the food onto his plate. It would probably taste like chalk, given his mood, but he'd eat.
"Actually, it's not." Irisa set down her phone. Her lips pressed together and she pinched the bridge of her nose. Her soft sigh cut into him. "Your scuffle went viral. I've received tons of calls and emails. My phone has been burning up since it happened."
His too. He closed his eyes for a moment, agonized to become her problem child once again. "I'm sorry. Send them my way. It's my fault, so I'll deal with it."
"No. That's my job. But you can make a public statement if you'd like. In fact, you should. We can work on it after breakfast."
"Thanks. Without you, I'd fuck up the apology, too." His glanced back and forth between Irisa and Jayne. "How was Audrey last night?"
"Upset."
"Angry."
Guilt tripled. All through the night, he'd berated himself for letting himself be goaded. He needed to make it right. "I know I screwed up. Goddamn Owen. Once he hit me, I couldn't hold back. The one thing she asked me to do, and I couldn't fucking keep it together for her."
Jayne's hand covered his. "Throwing a punch after he threw one at you is reflex. You were protecting yourself. Cut yourself some slack."
"You're too nice to me sometimes."
"And you're being a little too hard on yourself. People make mistakes. You'll make it right."
Jayne was one of the most forgiving people he knew. Even after all that had happened between them. He swallowed against the thickness in his throat, gently squeezed her hand, and leaned into the table to catch Zander's gaze. "You really lucked out with Jayne."
&n
bsp; "I know." Zander wrapped his arm around his fiancée's shoulders. "You haven't spoken to Audrey yet?"
"Not since she told me to leave her alone. Once my public apology is live, I'll make a private one... if she's willing to hear me out."
"A little groveling is good for the soul," Jayne reminded him.
He nodded. "It might take more than that."
Two hours later, he stood on the front steps of Audrey's building. When she answered the buzzer, he wished there were a camera so he could see her. Especially if he ended up apologizing from the stoop. "It's me. Can I come up?"
No response. Was she ignoring him or coming down to chew him out? He reached for the buzzer again as the outer door unlocked. The knot in his stomach eased then tightened again. He still had to apologize and she still could throw him out at the end of it. The short climb to her floor seemed to double in length.
Before he could knock, her door opened. He stepped forward and stuck his foot in the threshold in case she tried to slam it in his face.
Red-rimmed, puffy eyes met his. A gray tank top and black yoga pants hugged her curvy form. She wore no makeup, no jewelry, and no welcoming smile. The down-turn of her lips crushed him. He'd done that to her. He rolled his shoulders in prep for the battle that lay ahead. "I'm sorry. I keep screwing up with you."
Her gaze dropped to the bouquet of yellow gerbera daisies in his hand.
"Here." He held them out. "They reminded me of you."
"They're pretty." She brushed her finger over a petal but made no move to take them from his hand.
She was so listless. Panic spanned out from his core. He needed a reaction from her—anything, even fighting with him. He blurted out, "Can I come in?"
She squared her shoulders, nodded, and opened the door wide enough for him to enter.
He laid the blooms on the coffee table, then shoved his hands in his back pockets and wandered further into the room. The bed, draped in the soft, romantic curtain, teased at something he might never have again. Would she tell him they were through? He breathed in deep, once, twice, and then turned to face her. "I tried yesterday. Really, I did. Even when he started provoking me, I didn't take the bait. But when he threw that punch... well, instinct kicked in. All the history and bad blood between us clouded my better judgment."
Love Song (Rocked by Love #2) Page 8
