No response.
"You're crazy in love with her, aren't you?" she said softly, having grasped the depth of his feelings yesterday when he'd oh-so-casually asked her about Thea when they were backstage. The painful need in his eyes had resonated with the emotions growing inside her.
David paused with his fork against the plate, his eyes staring out into nothing. "Until I can't think. I need to get over it."
"Did you--"
"I asked her out. Had this whole argument worked out about how we'd be perfect together, but she never even gave me a shot." Fingers turning white on the metal, he said, "She cut me off so smoothly it was like being sliced off at the knees. Professional smile, distant eyes, gentle hand on my arm as she ushered me out of her office." He shook his head. "It was such a kick in the teeth that I just went."
Thea, Molly thought, was a smart woman who'd grown up cherished by two people who loved her and each other. The man Thea's mother had married when Thea was two had always treated Thea as his eldest daughter, "and no damn 'step' about it," as Thea had once quoted, love bright in her expression. Her two "baby" sisters, fourteen and fifteen respectively, saw her as their big sister and that was that--complete with teary phone calls about boys and complaints about being grounded.
Molly had met Thea's family over video calls and thought they were wonderful.
However, Thea had also had the bad luck to fall into a long-term relationship with a man who hadn't been able to handle her strength and growing success. Thea's ex had cheated on her, then blamed her for it, saying she wasn't woman enough to satisfy his needs.
Molly didn't know if David was or wasn't the right guy to help her sister get over that awful hurt, but any man sweet enough to be in love with her sister after such an icy rejection would at least treat her right, remind her that not all men were swine.
"Write a memo," she said before any of the others returned to the table. "About all the reasons why you'd be perfect together, then e-mail it to her."
David gave her a look that said he was questioning her sanity.
"Thea is surgically attached to her e-mail." Molly had figured that out the third time she and Thea had coffee together. Her sister had been on her best behavior the first two times.
Molly had actually been happy to see Thea taking quick glances at her phone--it had felt like they were both relaxed enough to be themselves for the first time, bad habits and all. "She'll read the memo because she can't help herself," Molly continued, "and if I know my sister"--which Molly thought she did, at least when it came to this aspect of Thea's personality--"she'll send you back a point-by-point rebuttal, so you'd better have your arguments ready."
Having twisted to face her, David shook his head. "That is either the worst or the best advice ever."
"Trust me." Molly took another sip of coffee. "Thea likes brains and she likes determination." Molly thought about it and decided to give him one other tiny piece of advice. "If you send her 'I'm sorry I messed up' flowers, steer clear of white roses." When David raised an eyebrow, she gave him a succinct answer. "Ex."
His jaw tightened. "Got it."
Maxwell and Justin returned to the table then, Fox waylaid by staff and guests.
"Damn." David put down his fork with a sigh as he too was spotted by a tableful of young men who, from their uniforms, looked like they were part of a high school sports team.
It wasn't until twenty minutes later that they could both eat again. Justin and Maxwell left soon afterward to take care of other matters, but Molly stuck around, promising to meet Maxwell in the parking lot in a quarter of an hour.
"That's why we mostly order room service," David said after he'd cleared his plate.
Fox leaned back with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. "We tend to have suites next to one another, and since Noah's always up before dawn, anyone else from the band who's up for breakfast turns up at his suite. Maxwell and some of the other crew usually find their way there as well."
"It's like a family, isn't it?" Molly snuck a strawberry from the bowl of fruit one of the men had brought back to the table.
"Depends on the people," David said, "and how long we've worked together. Maxwell, he's been with us since the first tour--most of the time, he treats us like his kids. Should piss us off, but he's got some weird voodoo going on where none of us can get mad at him. Or if we do, we feel so ashamed we end up giving him a raise."
Molly laughed when Fox nodded, his expression solemn. Then his cheeks creased and she had to dig her nails into her palms to resist the urge to kiss his smile right into her own mouth. "I better go." She cleared her throat, her voice husky. "I have to grab my stuff and meet Maxwell."
Fox squeezed her thigh under the table. "You're mine after tonight." It was a low murmur of sound that made David's face fall.
Bending down to the drummer's ear once she was on her feet, she said, "Memo," and left, her heart slamming a rapid beat and her nape prickling in awareness of Fox's gaze all the way to the door. She'd have to tell him to stop that or everyone would think he was hot after a roadie... but another part of her wanted to turn, to lock her eyes with his, tell the world he was hers.
Molly could barely breathe at the idea of being able to walk up to Fox in public, kiss him, smile with him. It made her lips curve, her body already turning to send him a last look when a flashbulb went off. Startled, she blinked to see that a fan too shy to go up to them was shooting photos of Fox and David from just inside the doorway.
Stomach queasy at that tiny exposure to the spotlight, she hurried out, the ugliness of the past a shadow she couldn't escape. Damn her father! She blinked back tears, angry with Patrick Buchanan for the damage he'd done, with herself for not being able to forget the pain, with fate itself.
Chapter 17
Molly had never attended a live concert. By the time she was old enough to be interested and would've been permitted to go with her friends, the scandal had broken, permanently altering the course of her life.
To have her first experience be backstage at a Schoolboy Choir concert while the crowd thundered out front and Fox belted out lyrics that made her want to dance and drag him off to bed at the same time... wow
Halfway through the show, he and Noah were both shirtless and sweaty under the lights, their T-shirts thrown into the delirious knot of fans who'd paid a premium to stand in the mosh pit right in front of the stage.
Fox's had been caught by a young woman who'd screamed and clutched it to her chest before pulling it on over her sparkly top, Noah's by a guy who'd held it up like a trophy. The two fans were part of an enormous sold-out crowd. It was exhilarating to be buffeted by the roar of that crowd, feel the beat of the music under her feet, hear the growl of Fox's voice, then the raw ferocity in it as the band slowed down to play a ballad about loss and redemption that had been penned by the keyboardist, Abe.
The brutal tenderness of it brought tears to her eyes where she leaned against one of the supports at the back of the stage, concealed in the shadows but with an amazing view. Winking at her when she'd admitted this was her first live concert, Maxwell had said she was off for the night unless something went wrong and he needed all hands on deck. So she was free to just stand there and watch Fox move those magic fingers over an electric guitar while Noah took the microphone to belt out a rock anthem that had the crowd raising their arms and joining in.
The tattoos on Fox's arms and back shimmered under the lights, his muscles defined by the sweat that gleamed on his skin. She wanted to lick it up, the impulse warring with her desire to keep on watching him forever--he was hypnotic, beautiful, and talented. Noah leaned in close to him right then, the two playing their guitars off one another in a rhythm that was immediately picked up on and echoed by Abe and David. It made it clear exactly how long the four had been friends and musicians together.
God, they were good.
Molly hadn't truly appreciated the amount of sheer skill it took to do what they did until she'd seen them
practicing yesterday and earlier today. The lights and the fireworks, that made for a good show, but behind it all was music, solid and pure. The four of them had been goofing off this afternoon, with Abe taking the mike, Fox on the drums, Noah on keyboard, David on guitar--all out of their comfort zones, and they'd still made great music.
Maxwell came to stand beside her. "So much naked talent," he said in her ear, as if he'd read her thoughts. "First time I heard them, I knew they'd be legends someday if they managed to stay together through the bullshit that comes with fame."
"It'd be a tragedy if they ever broke up." The four members of Schoolboy Choir created a stunning unit that truly was more than the sum of its parts. "Have they ever come close to it?"
"Won't lie, been some rough times--booze, women, drugs, notoriety, it takes a toll." Maxwell passed her a cold soft drink. "Any one of them could've dumped the others and struck out on his own when it got too hard, but even when they were fighting, they didn't walk away." A pause. "Drugs aren't as dangerous as women."
"It's all right, Maxwell," Molly whispered, rubbing a fisted hand over her heart. "I only have him for a little while--I'm no threat."
To her surprise, the big man put his arm around her shoulders and tucked her close to the comforting bulk of him. "Maybe you should try to change that." Startling words from the protective crew boss. "Boy's never been this happy--and I like you." He bussed her on the cheek in a paternal way, his beard scratchy on her skin.
David was right, she thought after he walked away--Maxwell had some weird voodoo going on.
Her pulse kicked as Fox turned his back to the audience and looked right at her. His mouth curved in a smile she knew was for her, and then he was taking the microphone once more. She exhaled, her abdomen taut. It was becoming clear she'd never become immune to Fox's smile, his touch, his kiss, the ferocious power of his voice.
When her phone vibrated in her pocket as he started in on one of the band's biggest hits, she ignored it before realizing she hadn't heard from Charlotte today. They stayed in daily contact, even if it was only a short e-mail or text message to touch base. It was a habit Molly had begun after Charlotte's mother first got sick and that was now so much a part of both their lives they rarely gave it a thought.
Pulling out the phone without taking her eyes off Fox, she glanced quickly at the message and burst out laughing. The music was so loud that there was no risk she'd interrupt the band, but she bit down on her lip to stop herself anyway. Tears in her eyes, she looked at David where he was making magic on the drums, wanting to hug him. Because the message wasn't from Charlotte.
David sent me a memo. WTF?!
In the year and a half that Molly had known Thea--after Thea decided to do some research on her biological father out of curiosity and discovered she had a sister--Molly hadn't seen anyone discombobulate her. "Good on you, David."
It'd be interesting to be a fly on the wall at Thea and David's next meeting, which was at least a week away as Thea was now officially on vacation. Not that her sister ever actually stopped working, but she was currently at the airport, waiting for her plane to the Indonesian island of Bali. The trip to see her parents had been organized well before the Sydney concert had come up, and with the local interviews now all done, Thea had decided not to cancel it.
"If you want me to continue putting out fires for you," she'd told the band before she left, "do not do anything that interrupts my vacation." The terse words had been directed particularly at David, whose black eye had been spectacular by that stage. "And next time someone tells you to put ice on a bruise, you listen!"
Molly had found the tone of that last pithy comment intriguing to say the least. Now, vowing to keep her nose out of whatever might end up going on between the drummer and her sister, she crossed her fingers for them both and typed a short reply: Was it a good memo?
Thea's response was quick-smart. Bullet-pointed! With an introduction and a conclusion.
Are you memo'ing him back?
Of course I am. I have to see what he does next.
Stifling her laugh again, Molly said, Keep me updated. And have fun in Bali.
I will--after I write this memo.
Leaving Thea to her rebuttal memo, Molly messaged Charlotte. Hey, what's happening? I'm backstage at a rock concert. Surreal. As surreal as the fact the incredible lead singer would be in her bed tonight.
I'm at work. Yes, on a Saturday night. The good news is, T-Rex hasn't yelled at me once in the past eight hours. I think he might be depressed.
Caught by the primal power of Fox's voice, it took Molly a few minutes to reply. Ask him to dinner. Or dessert.
T-Rexes only eat raw meat. But I ordered him takeout from a restaurant he likes. Now I'm going home. Enjoy the concert--and Fox. xoxo
Sliding the phone back into her pocket, Molly let the music sweep her away into a wild jungle of a world, passionate and furiously beautiful, just like the man who held the mike close as a kiss.
While Molly helped the crew pack up sensitive gear after the concert, Fox and the rest of the band came out to sign autographs and take photos with the die-hard fans who'd stuck around well after the show ended. Though she tried not to, she couldn't help but notice the number of adoring women in the group--the one about to take a photo with Fox was a raven-haired knockout with a beaming smile.
"Oh, I can't believe I get to meet you!" she squealed when Fox put his arm around her waist for the shot.
He wasn't the only one being showered with female attention; all four men had their own groupies. Suddenly, Molly wasn't so sure she'd done the right thing in encouraging David's pursuit of Thea. "Damn it," she said as she broke a nail while rolling up one of the cables that crawled across the back of the stage.
Forcing herself to pay attention, she tried to keep her eyes off the tableau out front, but it was no use. This time when she looked up, it was to see Fox exchanging fist bumps with a tattooed biker type who turned around to have Fox sign his back with a black marker. Next to him was a brunette who tucked a piece of paper into Fox's jeans pocket, blatant invitation in her eyes and her assuredly collagen-enhanced lips.
The bitchy thought would've normally made Molly feel bad, but not tonight, with the woman licking her tongue around her pouty lips in a message a man would have to be comatose to miss.
Gritting her teeth against the urge to stride over there and slap her straight, Molly took the wound-up cable to where another one of the crew was putting them neatly into a gear truck. The charity volunteer crew was handling the big items, all of which had been hired, but much of the more delicate equipment was the band's and needed to be handled with care.
"Here you go, Jen."
"Thanks." The model-tall and slender black woman took the cable off her hands. "You want to schlep some water out to the guys? It looks like these fans aren't leaving."
Joining the cluster of fans was the last thing Molly felt like doing, but since she couldn't exactly say that, she stalled. "They always go the extra mile?"
"Depends on how tired they are, how far along in the tour it's been." Jen nodded at the crate of water that had just come out of the portable fridge now being loaded for transport. "Go on."
Reluctantly grabbing four bottles, Molly made her way through the small crowd after tugging down her crew cap and was soon at David's side. He was talking music with an eager young male and smiled his thanks at her for the water. When he leaned in close to whisper, "I sent her the memo," she decided her first instincts about him had been right. A guy who was still thinking about her sister, even surrounded by copious amounts of near-naked female flesh, was seriously gone.
Noah took his water with his usual charming smile, while Abe nodded quietly. Heading toward Fox, she found herself stopped by an exquisitely made-up blonde in skinny jeans and a plunging black top. "Are you like one of Fox's assistants?"
Molly nodded.
"Oh my God! I would die for that position." The blonde pressed her hands together and jump
ed up and down. "He is soooo hot."
Realizing the woman was a girl despite the illusion created by her makeup, Molly gave her a gentle smile. "I better get him this water."
"Oh, sure. Tell him to call me! I put my number in his left back pocket."
Molly touched Fox on his lower back through the white T-shirt he'd pulled on and was surprised by his frowning look when he turned his head. It changed into a smile the instant he saw it was her. "Is that for me?"
Nodding at the straightforward comment that sounded like a caress, she gave him the water just as another woman, this one definitely an adult, laid her hand on his chest, her turgid nipples plainly visible through her spaghetti-strap top. "Hi"--a breathy sound as she pressed those nipples against his arm--"I've been waiting to talk to you all night." Her eyes dropped to his groin. "Do I get a reward for my patience?"
Stomach churning, Molly walked away before she punched the groupie's lights out.
It was hours later before the crew's work was finally done. Fox had left with the rest of the band a while ago; it would've looked suspicious for Molly to go with them when the breakdown was only halfway complete. The truth was, she wasn't sure she was in the right frame of mind to be with Fox just then. When the other crew members invited her out for a drink afterward, she went.
"Is it always like that?" she asked Jen as they sat at the bar, Molly with a pretty virgin cocktail, Jen with a margarita. "The women I mean?"
"That was nothing." Jen sighed at the first sip of her drink, the salt from the rim of the glass a shimmer on her lips before she turned them inward to lick it off. "Rock star equals catnip for a lot of women."
Molly couldn't exactly argue, though it was only one particular rock star who was her personal catnip. "I guess that's why real relationships don't work in that life," she said, and it hurt to speak the words.
Jen shrugged, her slender shoulders graceful against the black band T-shirt. "I dunno. There are plenty of long-term relationships in the business. Some of 'em the woman looks the other way, but a rare few are solid to the core. Depends how hard you want to work and how much you love, I suppose."
Molly imagined living with a man--with Fox--knowing thousands of other women would be happy to crawl into his bed should he so much as crook a finger, and knew she couldn't do it. The jealousy would eat her up. As it was doing now. "I think I'll head back," she said, conscious she was the one who'd created the distance tonight. Stupid, when she had so little time with him anyway. "I'm exhausted."