Hawk and Dove (Rock Star Romance Novel) (11 page)

Chapter Seven

“Here you go,” I say, gesturing toward a prime patch of
backstage real estate. “You can see the whole show from right here. Best spot
in the house, I promise you.”

Ellie peers past the curtains toward the swelling audience.
She’s being a very good sport, though I can tell that some part of her wishes
she could be out in the crowd, like a normal girl.

It makes me a little sad for her—now that she’s a known
musician, even a minor one, simple pleasures like watching a concert without
being bothered by the paparazzi and crazed fans are a thing of the past.

“This is great, Trent,” she smiles. The corners of her mouth
are stretched a smidge too widely for her enthusiasm to be completely
wholehearted.

I avert my gaze, regret twisting my stomach into knots.

Why did I have to blow her off before? I’ve never lost my
nerve with a girl in my entire life. Well, not since I hit puberty, anyway. We
were absolutely on the edge of a moment back under that tree, on that little
hill overlooking the festival. I saw what was happening, felt it, and still I
ripped us away.

Sure, there was the pressing issue of my concert to
consider, but would one kiss have killed me?

I’d wanted to kiss her so badly. Those full, soft lips of
Ellie’s were inches from mine, and moving closer. In a perfect world, I would
have been able to press her back against that tree, pinning her there. I would
have been able to kiss her as deeply, and long as I wanted, letting her feel
the weight of my body against her own. I would have been able to wrap my arms
around her, carry her off to some secluded corner where we could be alone.

But this is hardly a perfect world we’re living in. If I had
let something happen between us back there, a dozen gawkers would have been
along to spoil the moment.

Ellie’s name would be splashed across gossip blogs in the
same breath as mine, and that would be it. I don’t want to put her through the
media circus that occurs around every development in my romantic life.

The women I’m seen with are always treated like Groupies of
the Week by the music press, and I’m not OK with Ellie being lumped in with the
others. She’s as far from them as can be. For one, I actually
like
Ellie. And the last thing I want to do is hand over whatever privacy she has
left to the tabloids.

If something’s going to happen between Ellie and I, it has
to be on her terms. I’m not going to pounce on her in the heat of the moment,
tempted though I might be. This is quite a departure from my usual “Anything
Goes” philosophy of romance, but it’s not like that school of thought was doing
me any real favors.

“I have to go get ready,” I tell her.

“OK,” she smiles gamely.

I can tell she’s confused and a little put off by my
evasion. I can only hope that this doesn’t drive a wedge between us. The last
thing I want to do is extinguish whatever’s crackling between us. I hope she
knows that I’m not trying to avoid her—I’m just trying to avoid making her life
more difficult for my sake. No time to worry about it now, though. Hopefully,
we’ll be able to sort everything out later tonight. If she deigns to wait that
long, of course.

“Your stuff gets a little heavy sometimes, right?” she asks.

“Sometimes,” I tell her, “I really won’t be offended if
that’s not your thing.”

“I like all kinds of things,” she says, “I’m not a strictly
ukulele-and-harmonica kind of girl.”

“I didn’t suppose that you were,” I smile.

“And besides,” she goes on, taking a step towards me, “Even
if I may not be well-acquainted with something, it doesn’t mean I’m not
interested in learning something new.”

I swallow hard, and will my body to behave itself. There’s a
renewed, irresistible determination glinting in Ellie’s eyes. I know that look
quite well.

But there’s something else behind the raw desire, something
more private, more secret. She wants me as badly as I want her, that much I'm
sure, but it’s not just a one night fling that she wants. She’s making herself
vulnerable to me in a way that women usually don’t. Usually, it’s a roll in the
hay and a peck on the cheek. But with Ellie...

There’s something in her that I recognize. Something
fragile, and honest, and more than a little lonely. I recognize it because I
can feel it too—though I’d be loathe to admit it to anyone in the world.

Being with Ellie would mean stripping away every defensive
layer I’ve managed to build up over the years. But what if we tried it, this
whole new kind of honesty, and something went wrong? Can I really risk
dismantling these carefully crafted bits of armor without some kind of
assurance that things are going to work out?

Or, forget “work out”, just not end in a horrible train
wreck of heartbreak? How does anyone get to know someone else without that kind
of guarantee?

“You’d better get going,” she says, taking a quick step
forward.

Before I can respond, she gives me a simple kiss on the
cheek. Her lips brush against my stubbled skin, sending a scorching bolt of
sensation straight through me. I look down at her, more than a bit bemused.
This girl has already got quite the hold on me.

“Go on then,” she laughs, “Break a leg! Or someone else’s.
Whatever you rock and roll types are into.”

“I’ll do my best,” I smile, turning reluctantly away from
her and tearing through the backstage realm toward the green room. It’s time I
see to my rock star duties again.

I fumble toward the makeshift tent that’s supposed to be
serving as our green room. Ducking into the flimsy lean-to, I nearly burst out
laughing at the sight of Kelly. She’s standing stock still in the middle of the
space, surrounded by the rest of my band. Her nose is scrunched up like she’s
just stepped in a pile of dog shit, and she’s practically vibrating with fury.
I did warn her this trip was going to be rustic, but I suppose she
underestimated the extent to which that would be the case.

“Where the hell have you been?” she screeches at me. I’m
glad she seems to be frozen in place—she looks about ready to claw out my eyes.

“Enjoying the festival,” I tell her, “Ellie and I caught
another one of the act’s shows.”

“Oh, really?” Kelly hisses, planting her hands on her hips,
“You’re telling me that instead of preparing for this rather high profile
concert, you were off gallivanting with some charity case all afternoon?”

“First of all,” I say, feeling heat rising in my face,
“Since when have we ever practiced more than the absolute minimum? And more
importantly, what the hell do you mean ‘charity case’?”

The guys move off to the corners of the tent as Kelly and I
square off against each other. They’re used to our showdowns by now.

“I mean,” Kelly winds up, “That the New Voices contest is a
scheme to get more ticket buyers interested in the festival. It’s not as though
it actually counts for anything. I mean, it would be one thing if your little
friend and her playmate were any good, but considering—”

“Ellie is an amazing singer,” I interject, “You heard her
the other night with your own two years!”

“She’s fine, I guess,” Kelly drawls. She can tell she’s
getting to me, and she digs her nails in even deeper. “But as long as she’s
hanging around with that mopey little string bean she calls a band mate, she
doesn’t stand a chance in this business. There are plenty of pretty girls in
the music scene, Trent. Far prettier than her. You should know, you’ve screwed
most of them by now.”

“She’s better than that,” I shoot back.

“Not with her little boyfriend, she’s not. And it doesn’t
look like they’re splitting up anytime soon. At least, that’s what the blogs
say. And you know their word is law.”

“Oh, please,” I groan, “That little twerp is just trying to
boost his own popularity.”

“Manufactured or not,” Kelly says, “There’s definitely
something going on between them. So if you’ve got any sense in that thick skull
of yours, you’ll stay far away from her.”

“What is this,
West Side Story
?” I laugh
incredulously, “You have no authority over who I spend time with, Kelly.”

“Maybe not,” she says, taking a step toward me, “But as your
manager, I have ultimate authority over your music career. Have you forgotten
that, Trent?”

“Are you threatening me?” I ask quietly, advancing toward
her in turn.

“Of course not,” she sniffs, “Just reminding you of the way
things stand. I’ve always been your advisor, Trent. Your trusted advisor, I’d
like to imagine. Why you would feel the need to stray away from my guidance is
beyond me. Haven’t I done a good job for you so far?”

“Sure,” I admit, “Sure, I suppose you have.”

“Then listen to me now,” she says, dropping her voice so
that the others can’t hear, “That Ellie girl would be terrible for your image.
For your entire career.”

“Oh, come on,” I say, “How the hell do you figure that?”

“Have you seen your fan base, lately?” she asks, cocking an
eyebrow, “The people listening to you are hardcore rockers. Your fans are
tough, and loyal, and merciless. What the hell do you think would happen if you
started carting around some ruffly, girlish nymph, huh? They’d burn your damn
records. Write you off as pussy whipped. She’s the exact opposite of the kind
of woman they want you with, Trent. They hate people like her. You know it’s
true.”

“Well, what about what I want?” I counter.

“You’re an entertainer!” Kelly cries, exasperated, “What you
want is about as significant as a piss in the Atlantic Ocean!”

“Is that so?” I say, “I don’t think I would have signed up
for the job if I’d known that going in.”

“Don’t play the gallant troubadour,” she laughs, “You love
your fame. You love being fawned over. You love the sex, and the drugs, and the
herds of willing, young bodies. Don’t you dare try to deny it, either. I’ve
been with you since the beginning, and you’ve taken to this whole fucked up
world like a duck to water. It might seem like fun to try on the noble prince costume
for a minute, Trent, but it’s unbecoming. It’s not worth losing all this just
for some indie try-hard.”

“She’s not like that,” I growl, “Even if she was, it
wouldn’t be any of your goddamn business. You do realize that there’s a life
outside of the industry, don’t you Kelly?”

“No,” she snaps, glaring at me, “I don’t accept that. This
is my life, Trent. You’re my life. And you can be sure that I’m not going to
let some no-name songstress fuck this up. And you can tell her I said so.”

Kelly storms out of the room, pushing Rodney roughly out of
the way. The three of them stare at me quizzically, but I’m too livid to bother
filling them in.

Instead, I take a long swig out of the nearest bottle and
let out a loud shout. The guys rally around me, passing the booze between them.
We collapse into our ceremonial huddle, and I focus on their eager, amped up
faces.

“OK guys,” I say, “Let’s get out there and do what we do
best!”

They erupt into whoops and cries of boundless enthusiasm,
and their bottomless energy starts to get to me, too. I can feel the jolting,
unstoppable burst of adrenaline flooding my system, just like it always does
before a show. We break free of our huddle and charge out of the holding tent.

Stage hands flock around us as we make our way toward the
stage, handing us our instruments. The stresses and conflicts of the real world
begin to fall away from me with every step that I take toward the mic stand.
Right now, nothing in the world matters but getting on that stage and pouring
my heart out through the speakers.

We swing onto the wide, deep platform just as the stage
lights blast us with a blinding flash.

Thousands of screaming fans send rapturous shouts up into
the dusky sky as we take our places before them. Beyond the audience, the quiet
plains stretch on forever, lit up with millions of fireflies. For a second,
it’s all I can do to stand there and take it all in.

I want to memorize this moment, keep it on my shelf forever,
just like I do with every single show. No matter how many of these massive gigs
I play, it never gets old.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a flash of gold beyond
the curtains. I turn and spot Ellie, grinning out at me from backstage. Any
trace of doubt or frustration has faded from her features. She’s beaming at me,
now, her whole body radiating excitement.

I feel a thrill rush from my head to the tips of my
fingers—the joy of making her happy, of exciting her, is unlike anything I’ve
ever felt. I take two longs strides and grab the standing mic, dragging it close
to my lips.

“To all my hawks, and all my doves,” I scream, letting the
adoring cries of the crowd wash over me, “Get ready lose your fucking minds!”

They don’t need any permission from me. They’re already
roiling by the time I slam the first chord into the throbbing night air. The
guys follow me into our first number, our latest hit single
Eviscerate
.
The rhythm of the music overtakes my body, resets the beat of my heart. I’m
fully within it, encompassed by the song itself. My entire universe shrinks down
to this stage, this wild crowd, the warm night air against my skin...and the
beautiful woman standing just beyond the wings.