Angel Dares (21 page)

‘Lovely to meet you too. So you’re a photographer?’

She tapped the Nikon hanging on its thick strap over her shoulder. ‘Among other things.’ Her head turned to Joey and Fresh, who were still gawping at Brian as mortals are wont to do when gods come calling. ‘And who are your friends?’

Matt grinned. ‘I’m having second thoughts about introducing you to these two. Brian, you better keep an eye on them. Joey Reef and Fresh Chance.’

‘Are they your real names?’ asked Jennifer sweetly.

‘Street names—and that’s as real as it gets.’ Joey treated her to a megawatt smile.

‘You know something: I really must photograph you two.’ She jumped up and took the lens cap off her camera, checking her light meter. ‘Can you try to look tough for me?’

Their attempts to look streetwise were undermined by my crows of laughter and Matt’s jeering, but I think Jennifer managed to get a couple of good shots in of them glowering at her, arms folded.

‘These two don’t take us seriously,’ griped Joey. ‘Hey, Jennifer, why don’t you come hear us perform? You can get some shots of us in action if you’re interested.’

‘Have we got time, Brian?’ she asked.

‘Maybe. When?’ asked Brian, checking his watch.

‘It’s at five in the Beatbox tent.’

‘Sounds a plan. Wish I could stay longer with you guys but I’ve got to run.’ Brian got up. ‘You coming, Jen? I’ve got that magazine thing in ten minutes, remember?’

‘Yes, of course. Angel, could I borrow you for a second?’

‘Shall I walk with you?’ I offered.

‘Please.’ Jennifer linked her arm through Brian’s. ‘It’s just I wondered what you were doing for a costume tonight. Do you have something suitable or do I need to get an outfit brought in for you? There’s probably still enough time to ask our stylists to get a motorbike courier to bring something here from London.’

‘Oh.’ She was right: I hadn’t thought about that. ‘What are the guys wearing?’

Brian snorted. ‘Clothes.’

Jennifer rolled her eyes. ‘See what we have to deal with? They’ll be wearing casual which Margot and I will have picked out for them.’

Brian groaned.

‘Sponsors, Brian,’ she warned, ‘remember them? The companies that pay you all a fortune to wear their stuff? But that’s not an issue with Angel. I thought you might like to go for something a little more classy?’

‘I’m not really a classy kinda gal,’ I admitted.

‘Got anything black?’ she persisted.

I ran an inventory of my rucksack, feeling vindicated that I had packed so much. ‘I’ve a short black dress and matching shoes.’

‘Sounds perfect. You can’t go wrong with black. One job ticked off my list.’ She made a tick shape in the air. ‘You’ll be in the VIP changing room, of course.’

There was a VIP changing room? ‘Great.’

She gave my hand a quick press. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you play.’

‘Will we see you at this Beatbox tent, Angel?’ asked Brian.

‘Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

Having reached the Gifted trailers, I watched as they walked away. Two such lovely people. I didn’t think Brian had a gift—no tingle of energy around him like there was around Kurt and Marcus, and Jennifer seemed pretty straightforward too.

Feeling the urge to have a good chat with Misty and Summer about all these exciting developments, I felt in my bag for my phone. That brought rushing back the memory of the altercation last night. Had Davis posted any of my incriminating photos online yet or was he holding fire? What should I do if he had? I’d not been entirely straight with Victor when I’d confessed my mistakes.

Two hands grabbed me from behind. I shrieked. I’d only got as far as an elbow in my attacker’s stomach when I was rapidly released.

‘Angel, it’s just me!’

Marcus.

I clasped my shaking hands to my chest. ‘Trying to scare me to death?’

‘Sorry.’ He looked sheepish.

I now noticed he was with his band mates, Pete and Michael, en route to their rehearsal. They were staring at me as if I had grown a second head. Great: I’d managed to embarrass Marcus on top of everything else.

‘Sorry about the overreaction. I was just—surprised.’

‘Remind me not to surprise you then,’ said Michael, the drummer with the cute smile.

Marcus folded me in a protective embrace. ‘You really OK?’

‘Just feeling a little jittery,’ I admitted.

He looked over my head to his friends. ‘Angel was roughed up by a journalist last night when he got a little too insistent about getting an interview.’

They didn’t seem surprised it had happened; they’d each had to shoulder their way through hordes of paparazzi staking out their every move since fame struck. They heaped insults on the journalist and asked if I was all right. I was now that Marcus had been kind enough to explain my freaked-out behaviour. ‘Thanks, guys, I’m fine. You’d better get to your rehearsal.’

Marcus chewed briefly on his lower lip, two little frown lines appearing between his brows. ‘You know something, Angel? I think I’d feel better if you tagged along. You don’t mind, do you guys, I know its breaking band rules, but … ’

‘Sure. No problem,’ said Pete, the big bear of the bunch.

‘You can hang out with us, Angel. Lot nicer to look at you than stare at these two for an hour.’ Michael gave me a cheeky wink.

I sat in the corner of the band lounge—the tent set aside for practise sessions and warming up—drinking in the experience of watching three talented musicians work through their set. They had an easy camaraderie and listened to each other very well. Their criticisms of any fault were always tactfully phrased and made in the spirit of getting it right. No one was scared to speak up. How different from Jay, who would bawl at any of us if we went a little off in our playing. They weren’t slow at seeking my opinion either.

‘What do you think, Angel: should we sing “Homeless” before or after “Shout Now”?’ asked Michael.

I ran the water droplet charm on my necklace up and down the chain thoughtfully. ‘I think you should keep it as it is—it seems to tell a better story in that order.’

Michael gave me a thumbs up. ‘Told you the girl has good taste.’

Marcus, who had suggested the change, mock-frowned at me. ‘In some things.’

‘Yeah, her taste in men is terrible, but there you go … ’

Marcus made a single-finger gesture at Michael.

We walked back to Marcus’s trailer for their traditional post-rehearsal snacks and drink session. Marcus’s place was their unofficial headquarters as Michael and Pete were sharing the other half of the Winnebago.

‘Our side is not fit for human habitation,’ Pete admitted cheerfully. Arms folded, his muscles showed to advantage beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt. No, he didn’t look the kind of boy to don Marigolds and set to work tidying up the man cave. More like give him a couple of sabre-tooth tigers to wrestle.

‘Yeah,’ chipped in Michael. ‘Two guys and no one to pick up the socks, whereas Marcus here is a neat freak.’

‘Is he?’ Then Marcus really wasn’t going to appreciate my approach to tidying my bedroom: shove it all in the bottom of a wardrobe or cover with a blanket.

Marcus binned the empty packets and wiped the surface. ‘I just like control. I can’t think surrounded by clutter.’

‘Which is why he gets the room on his own. Can’t kill off our golden goose by forcing him to live with us, can we?’ Michael put his cup in the little dishwasher with a nod to his friend.

The guys excused themselves after two rounds of toast. Knowing Marcus was busy, I tried to leave with them but Michael pinned me to the sofa with a look.

‘See you in half an hour for that interview thing?’ Michael said, giving me a blatant cue about the band’s timetable.

‘Yeah.’ Once the door had closed, Marcus flopped down on the sofa next to me and nuzzled my neck. ‘Thirty whole minutes. Now, I wonder what we can do with them?’

Last time we had got close on the sofa we ended up on the floor. So tempting. But I had to keep my promise to myself that I would take this step by step, not rush the physical stuff when the more important matters were unsettled.

I curled into his side, arm across his waist—that didn’t count. ‘We could talk.’

He groaned. ‘She wants to talk? OK.’ He picked up my right hand and began nibbling the tips of my fingers.

‘T … tell me about your family.’

‘I’m the eldest of three.’ He brushed my fingers against his lips. ‘Mum and Dad are from Liverpool. My sister Sadie is fourteen, little brother Kyle is ten. Have we done talking yet?’

I tugged my hand free before I completely lost focus. I poked his chest. ‘No. And when did you first realize you were musical?’ I avoided the word
gift
, knowing how he hated the idea that his talent was due to something he didn’t understand.

‘Always have been. I went to my first live concert really young—maybe about eight—Dad’s into music too and took me with him. That led to my first guitar lesson and the rest followed on from that.’

‘And the singing?’

‘That’s from the football terraces.’ He laughed at my doubtful expression. ‘Seriously, when else is a boy who doesn’t do the school choir thing gonna sing in public?
You’ll never walk alone
—that’s where it all started for me.’

‘I suppose I should’ve guessed you’d be a Liverpool fan. I’m more of a Chelsea girl myself.’

Whipping his arm out from behind my shoulders, he made a warding-off-the-devil sign of the cross. ‘Right, that’s it. This relationship is officially over. I can’t possibly hook up with one of them.’

‘Can’t stand the competition, huh? Running scared?’ I went up on my knees on the sofa and ran my index finger down his cheek.

‘Hmm.’ He caught it and kissed the tip. ‘Well, if I am going to keep you, I suppose I’ll just have to put extra effort into turning you into a supporter of a real football team.’

‘As long as you don’t mind me trying the same thing.’

‘Not a chance, girl.’

The look we exchanged could have started fires in a monsoon. Knowing I had to break the moment, I scooted back to my original position.

‘Enough talking yet?’ he asked hopefully.

‘No. So tell me something important about yourself. I know: what’s your first memory?’

He huffed. ‘That’s easy. Unlike a water nymph like you, I’m terrified of rivers ever since I almost drowned as a kid.’

‘Oh my word: what happened?’

‘I was playing by the local canal. I must have slipped out of our garden and the canal wasn’t very far. I think I had some idiotic idea of feeding the ducks. Fell in, of course. Fortunately there was a guy walking his dog on the towpath that saw the accident and fished me out. After that I’ve always thought of water as my enemy—the dirty canal sort, anyway. What about you?’

‘Almost the opposite: I remember playing with the water in my paddling pool. It was like my first friend. Mum and Dad had to rig up a screen so the neighbours didn’t see.’

He didn’t comment.

I toyed with a leather bracelet he never appeared to take off. ‘What’s this?’

‘Got that a couple of years back. Kurt and Margot gave it to me when we first met. Three cords plaited—it was like a pledge that we’d stick together.’

‘Kurt’s been an important person in your life.’

‘Both of them have. They have a real gift for friendship. Kurt could’ve blown me off—too young, too much of a wannabe—but he didn’t: he took time and has helped me and my band mates every step of the way.’

I rubbed my cheek against his ribs, listening out for his heartbeat. ‘That’s nice to hear. You don’t often find that kind of story in this business.’

‘He’s got nothing to prove, has he, so I guess he can be generous.’

I tried a baby step of progress. ‘And do you think I’m right about his ability?’

Marcus’s body stilled, unyielding under my ear. ‘If you’d asked me before, I’d’ve said he was just very discerning—yeah, that’s the word. Why do you have to turn normal stuff into all this mystic nonsense?’

Do not get flustered. Be calm. It’s reasonable for him to have doubts. ‘Because I believe it’s different. Like you, he would be telepathic too if he gave it a try. Wouldn’t you like to be able to speak to each other like that?’

Marcus burst into laughter. ‘Kurt Voss—telepathic? The day he speaks to me telepathically is the day I wear a tutu on stage.’

‘Be careful what you wish for, Marcus.’

There came a discreet knock at the door. ‘Yo, bro, time to go!’

Marcus grimaced. ‘I wish Michael would stop saying that. Come in!’

‘I can give you as much … er … time as you need to finish up in there.’

Marcus opened the door abruptly so that Michael almost fell into the room. ‘Angel and I were just talking.’

‘You serious? What a waste. Hey, sweetheart, when you get tired of this one, come find me. You know where I live.’ He pointed next door.

‘A tempting offer, Michael, but one Black Belt is more than I can handle.’ I kissed Marcus on the cheek as I passed. I picked up Freddie from where the case sat next to his guitar, deciding now was not the time to wing a performance. ‘See you later.’

Marcus caught my hand. ‘We’re playing on the programme before Gifted. You’ll be there backstage, won’t you?’

‘You bet.’ I jumped down the steps. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t drag me away—though quite why they would try, I never understood.’ I gave them both a cheery wave and headed back to the band lounge to run through my part.

As it got closer to five, I emerged from my private practice to find Will and Victor taking a break at one of the green room tables. They looked out of place, like two ravens among the chattering starlings, expressions sober as the glitzy flock pecked at other performers’ reputations and exchanged seeds of gossip.

‘Hey, how’s it going?’ I plonked myself down on the table beside Will. ‘Where’s Uriel?’

Will gestured over the top of the tents. ‘He’s with the others patrolling the site.’

‘And your lady?’

Will grimaced. ‘Managing the media pack around Gifted. She’ll be here soon.’

‘No sign of Davis?’

‘Not yet. I wouldn’t have left her if he had crawled out from under his stone.’