Grinning, Jarod started texting as he carried the guitar to its case while the others gathered their belongings. Chloe left to bring the car around. Jubal took the cooler down the hall to the restroom to dump the ice. Rand muttered something about checking the gear.
Bayani approached with his miniature harem. “Melissa here is going to drive over. I’ll see you there.”
Joram grinned. “Take your time.” His answering leer seemed three times as suggestive in his youthful face and he steered them all out the door.
Alone for the first time, Joram sobered. She stood in the center of the room, slowly turning to fix it into her memory. Invocation had played here for over six years, gradually climbing the ladder of musical success. It wasn’t their first venue, but it had been the most secure and longest lasting. The Indigo was as much her home as her studio in Jamaica, her condo here in California, maybe more so. It was the first gig the band had found on its own merits without Anders’s interference. That alone was worth the nostalgia—Anders didn’t often leave her success to chance. She’d had to do some quick talking to get his approval to stay here once she’d lined it up. His blueprint for her success had little room for variables.
Her mind drifted to tonight’s performance, carefully analyzing the nuances of the audience, band and sound system. No gig was without its hiccups, but tonight had been almost magical. She’d slipped one of their new songs into the set and the crowd had adored it. The only disruption to the electric atmosphere had been that enticing redhead. Since seeing her, Joram had felt like she’d stepped onto a roller coaster car, one without seats or safety equipment. The rickety thing climbed ponderously toward the drop-off, and she could only hold her arms out to keep her balance. She wasn’t sure if Naomi Kostopoulos was the cause of this exhilaration, or if her unsanctioned use of the new song had caused it. In either case, the sensation of everything happening too fast was laughable considering the length of time it had taken the band to get to this point in its popularity.
As for Naomi, provocative women had come and gone over the years, none lasting long. Chloe was the only one who’d remained with Joram through the ups and downs of growing success. She’d been the one to supply the weapon Joram had needed to destroy Christina Yahiro in Hell all those years ago. While there was no love between them, shared experiences and obligation had kept them together. Joram didn’t have time for a romance now anyway, not considering where the band was heading. Perhaps when Invocation was established as a headliner she could reconsider.
How long will Naomi wait?
“You’re being absurd,” she told herself. She physically shook herself, crossing the room to pick up her notebook. Stuffing it into her backpack, she shouldered the bag and marched toward the door. Despite her determined steps, she paused there, once more scanning the room. Her heart weighed heavy in her chest as she turned her back on her past and closed the door.
Chapter Fourteen
Rebecca stood, hands on hips, glaring at Naomi. Her lips moved but Naomi couldn’t hear her. She plucked her earbuds out, glancing warily at the time displayed upon her iPod. “What?”
“I said, didn’t we just do this last week?”
Affecting innocence, Naomi ignored the papers and books scattered across the dining room table, her current graduate project. “What do you mean?”
“This!” Rebecca waved at the pile of homework. “In case you forgot, which is doubtful because I’ve been raving about it all week, we have someplace to be tonight. LA, as a matter of fact. Something about VIP passes at ClubPixel.”
With a shrug, Naomi dismissed her roommate, returning her attention to her lecture notes. “Go without me. You’ve got other friends who’d love to see the concert and get backstage.”
“The passes are under our names, girl. No one else will be able to use yours.”
Naomi had forgotten that part. Vague guilt tickled her gut, but she remained firm. “I really don’t have time this week. This project is due tomorrow.”
Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest, a stubborn frown marring her face. “What class?”
Nonplussed at the question, Naomi blinked. “What?”
“What class is it?” Rebecca repeated, leaning forward.
Naomi sputtered, eyes searching the paperwork and books before blurting, “Anthropological linguistics.”
Scorn curled Rebecca’s lips. “You don’t have that class on Saturdays. How can it be due tomorrow?”
Busted.
Before Naomi could counter her question, she continued. “You’d be surprised to know that Professor Ling posts his class syllabus on the Cal State website.” She jabbed a finger at the paperwork. “That project isn’t due for another week.”
Naomi struggled between astonishment that Rebecca even knew that information and anger that her roommate had ferreted it out at all. “What are you implying?”
“That you planned all week to ditch me tonight.”
“I did not!” She had but she couldn’t admit it. How could she talk to Rebecca about something she barely understood herself? She’d been raised by a woman who had powers of a goddess, been trained by a stranded elf and had a bloody destiny looming in her future. To top it off her childhood imaginary friend had revealed herself, complicating matters beyond Naomi’s ability to cope. The emotional and physical draw of Joram Darkstone sublimated everything in Naomi’s life. “I just…” She flailed around for a plausible reason. “I just don’t care that much for the music. It gives me a headache, all that screaming.”
Rebecca snatched the iPod from the table. They had a brief struggle over the headphones, but Naomi released them when it appeared they’d get broken. Her roommate calmly took one earbud and listened. “Funny. That sounds like Invocation’s latest EP, the one they released six months ago.” She returned the MP3 player and headphones to the table. “How’s that headache doing?”
Thoroughly busted. Naomi dropped her chin to her chest, staring at the make work on the table. She’d spent the entire week in breathless anticipation of tonight’s concert, of being able to see Joram Darkstone again. That terrified her. She’d found herself questioning every aspect of her life and where it was headed. Regardless of her inner acceptance of a history with her imaginary friend, her rational mind firmly chastised her for the childish thoughts. Imaginary friends didn’t exist. This entire situation could be explained logically if Naomi could just discover the discursive argument. Add to that her predetermined future and this draw to Joram was nothing more than an interruption, a distraction pulling her away from her ultimate goal. Whether she liked it or not, whether or not Joram truly was the imaginary friend from her youth, her path led another way. “I can’t go.”
“Why?” Rebecca knelt beside the chair to see Naomi’s face. “Because you’re interested in her? There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s life and love. Let yourself feel some of it.”
Naomi chuckled. “I wish it could be that easy.”
Rebecca touched Naomi’s thigh, her skin warming through the cloth of her jeans. “Look, you’ve spent a lot of years behaving well, getting good grades, making your family proud of you. You’re so tightly wrapped I sometimes think you’ve built yourself a prison. I don’t know what nightmares you face, girl, but I know they’ll kill you if you don’t allow yourself to release some of that pressure.” She squeezed Naomi’s leg. “I’m not saying throw all your responsibilities to the winds. I’m saying to lighten up a bit. If you don’t loosen up now, you’ll do something drastic in the future that will destroy everything.”
I will do something drastic in the future. Naomi often wondered if that prospective action would save the world or destroy it. The chances of it devastating her were certainly high. Rebecca was right, however. Naomi had spent the last week a ball of sensitive nerve endings, jumping at every little thing. She needed to find some way to relax, to de-stress from the knowledge that her pending role in Inanna’s plans drew inevitably nearer. She just wasn’t certain that seeing Jora
m Darkstone would ease the strain or compound it.
“Come with me to the concert, Naomi. Go backstage, flirt like crazy with Joram. I could tell she’s as interested in you almost as much as you’re interested in her.” Rebecca chuckled as Naomi’s skin flushed. She patted Naomi’s thigh. “Hey, if you get laid, all the better, right? A one-night stand with a rock star ain’t nothing to sneeze at.”
Naomi smacked Rebecca’s hand, knowing she’d said that to trigger a hotter blush. “Stop that!”
Rebecca laughed, standing. “Come on. One more night. When will you get the opportunity to go backstage at a rock concert again?” She gestured at the schoolwork spread across the table. “Apply your anthropological mind to the situation. You might learn something.”
“That all rock fans are hard of hearing? I knew that already.”
“Naomi…”
“Rebecca…” She pinched the bridge of her nose, assessing her ambiguous emotions. The sensible voice in her head was the only one that argued against the concert. Every other fiber of her being wanted to go. Listening to Invocation’s music for the last week had made her miss Joram’s voice more. The lyrics, full of rage and rebellion against injustice, tugged at Naomi’s heart. Her heart ached at the possibility of seeing her again. Hence the reason you shouldn’t go, the sensible voice reminded her. The voice sounded vaguely like Inanna, which incited a wave of annoyance and a hint of rebelliousness.
Doan fret, mi lova.
“All right. I’ll go.” Decision made, that sensible voice threw up its hands in despair.
“I knew you’d make the right decision.” Rebecca picked up the iPod, turning it off. “Now get a move on, girl! We still have to drive to LA and find parking.”
Dismissing the faint dread that she was making a mistake, Naomi pushed away from the table. She’d go to the concert, see Joram backstage and tell her about her imaginary friend. That would send Joram screaming in the opposite direction, resolving Naomi’s attraction. The idea seemed to alleviate her rational mind’s vexation, and her spirits lifted.
Chapter Fifteen
Joram fiddled with her phone, fingers playing over the screen. The display showed a section of a musical keyboard. While the application didn’t have much in common with the real instrument, it was enough to tap out simple melodies. She did so now to counteract her restiveness, listening to the elemental sounds emitting from her headphones. It drowned out the noise of the crowd building in the auditorium beyond the dressing room. She paused her musical distraction to check the time. Ten minutes until showtime. Scanning the room, she noted her bandmates moderating their own cases of nerves.
Rand sat in a corner, eyes closed, beating a staccato onto her thighs with her drumsticks, feet jumping and sticks jabbing out to hit imaginary cymbals. Jubal hid behind his ever-present sunglasses, sprawled in an armchair with his arms crossed over his chest. Joram couldn’t tell if he was napping or not, but it wouldn’t surprise her if he slept. The man could sleep anywhere. Bayani had taken over a corner of the room. He’d laid out a small rug and lit three candles. He sat in meditative silence, legs crossed, back straight, eyes closed, undisturbed by the sound of Jarod on his guitar nearby.
She returned her attention to the phone, replaying the last riff she’d built. Pushing a couple of buttons, she looped the notes to play over and over, listening carefully. She scribbled the musical notes into her notebook for future reference. When she finished, she turned off the program and unplugged her headphones.
Chloe knocked and entered. “Five minutes.”
Joram’s heart leapt into her throat, a rush of adrenaline making her feel unsteady as she stood. She ignored the sensations, knowing they’d disappear as soon as she got onstage. The others came to life, standing and stretching, adjusting their clothes or checking their appearances in the mirror. Rand fussed with her hair, though she didn’t have a lot of it to begin with. Bayani snuffed the candles, filling the room with the smell of burnt wicks. Jarod put his guitar in a stand, and Jubal groaned as he touched his toes where he stood.
“How’s the guest list?” Joram asked Chloe.
“Everyone made it.”
Something broke loose inside Joram, replacing tension with anticipation. Chloe gave her a strange look, and she realized she was grinning. You’re being absurd, she reminded herself.
A knock at the door saved her from having to explain. Invocation’s manager, Ivan, bustled into the room, clapping his hands once and dry-washing them together. “Three minutes, kids! Circle the wagons!”
Joram stepped into the center of the room, waving the others to gather with her. They made a circle, arms over each others’ shoulders. “Welcome to the first day of the rest of our lives.” Rand and Jubal grinned, but Bayani and Jarod were as serious as ever. Joram’s accent thickened. “Wah wi gwine do?”
“Mash up the place!”
“Kick ass!”
“Shell dung!”
“Blow the roof off!”
Joram laughed. “Then let’s do it!” She threw back her head and howled, the rest of her band following suit, their voices echoing in the small room. She slapped Jarod and Rand on the shoulders, receiving the same rough treatment in return before they broke apart.
Ivan opened the door, shooing them out into the backstage area of the venue. A man stood nearby, radio headphone and mic on his head and a Crew badge around his neck. He gestured for them to follow as he led them to the stage, Chloe and Ivan trailing after.
The sound of the audience grew louder as they walked, a raucous mass of voices, more than Joram had ever heard gathered at one of their shows. Her heartbeat spiked with fright and intoxicating exhilaration. They’d never played a place this big before. Not only was the venue larger than the Indigo, they weren’t the headliners tonight. Everything hinged on the popularity of the band they opened for—and whether or not enough of Invocation’s fans had come to see them. Other opening bands had been booed off the stage in the past, though it hadn’t yet happened to them. Don’t get cocky. There’s always a first time.
Ivan tugged her back, a meaty hand on her shoulder pulling her close so he could be heard over the crowd. “Who are Rebecca Vance and Naomi Kostopoulos?”
The question distracted her, and an image of Naomi filled her mind. “What? Fans. We met them last week.”
“Okay, just curious.”
Joram glanced at Chloe, puzzled, receiving a shrug in return. Ivan hadn’t ever been curious enough to quiz the band on their choices of guest passes before. “What’s up?”
He shrugged, a wolfish grin crossing his face. “You’ve never added VIP guests, that’s all. Can’t a band manager be curious when two new names attached to the lead singer show up?”
She chuckled. He had a point. Adding someone to the guest list of a gig was a bit different than tossing “VIP” into the mix. A guest was given complimentary entry to the venue, not free access to the backstage area. “Whatever.” The crewman waved her forward, a penlight in his hand illuminating the steps to the stage, the rest of the band waiting for her. “Gotta go!” She gave Chloe a peck on the lips and dashed away.
* * *
Elated, Naomi couldn’t believe how much more fun this concert was compared to last week’s. It helped that she now knew most of the songs Invocation played, able to sing along with Rebecca and the rowdy audience. There’d been a slight glitch in the beginning when the crowd demanded the headliner band, but Joram took their disgruntlement and threw it right back at them. By the end of Invocation’s set, the audience had been converted to fans, jumping and cheering in time with the music. Having seats front row center wasn’t a hardship, either, and she cherished that electric thrill that had coursed through her when Joram had smiled down on them, pointing to acknowledge their presence.
There was one song Naomi didn’t know, one that they’d played at the Indigo. Something about it tugged at her heart and emotions. From the reaction of the people around her, they felt the same way. It was a catchy tu
ne, and as little as Naomi knew about popular music, she thought this one would be one of the band’s hits. She tried to tell herself that was the reason for her jubilance, not her attraction to the lead singer.
She and Rebecca dropped into their seats as a brief intermission began. Canned music took over the speakers, though it was at a much lower volume. She popped out her earplugs, laughing aloud. “That was…spectacular!”
Rebecca nudged her with one elbow. “This is where I say I told you so, right?”
“Yes, Mother.” Naomi stuck her tongue out, pulling back with a surprised laugh as Rebecca reached forward to snatch at it. She batted Rebecca away, giggling. “Seriously. Thank you for forcing me to come. I’d hate to have missed this.”
“Does that mean I can bully you out next week too? I’m sure I can find someplace for us to party.”
Rebecca’s expression was so hopeful that Naomi’s resolve to keep her nose to the grindstone crumbled. Rebecca was right. Regardless of Naomi’s future destiny, living in the present was an absolute essential. There had to be a way to balance her fate with a full life. Her sense of obligation and responsibility ran deep, and it took serious effort to nod. “Yes. Yes, you can.”
“Really?” Rebecca sat up straight, astonishment briefly flickering across her face before being chased away by a serious demeanor. “I know how important your education is to you. I won’t try to talk you into anything to jeopardize it, I promise.”
Naomi laughed aloud, taking Rebecca’s hand and patting it. “I know, silly. Don’t fret.” She looked around at the people seated around them. Many were checking cell phones and speaking loudly to one another. A few had deserted their chairs, heading toward the foyer for a cigarette break or to pick up the Invocation CDs that were on sale. The curtains had been drawn on the darkened stage, but it swayed and moved like a living organism as the crew behind it prepared for the headliner band. She wondered if they’d have to sit through the entire performance or if they should find a backstage door at this point.
Darkstone Page 13
