I was a thirsty woman who’d reached an oasis in the desert and hadn’t drunk her fill.
3
I started a new conversation.
“I can’t imagine the kind of pressure you’re under on tour.”
Beck slid a hand down his middle. “It’s like a time warp in a vacuum, where every little thing is magnified, and every little thing revolves around us.”
“Not bad if you can get it.” I let out a soft laugh.
“It’s fun, but it’s a long haul. The Heave tour is so unlike any tour we’ve ever done before. It’s a big, structured machine with lots of moving parts, lots of people who keep it functioning, and lots of people that depend on it. As the opening act, we have our role in the machine, and we need to deliver.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way, but it’s a business at the end of the day with super high stakes.”
“Then the other side of that is the way people react to you, talk to you. They don’t know you, but they think they do, and they want more of that person they think they know. They’re in your face, they want your attention, and then they do crazy shit. You do crazy shit.”
“I’ll bet.”
I could only imagine the “crazy shit” that went on. There had to be major groupie action on his ass show after show—for all the guys in Freefall. They were all hot boys. And The Heave had a party reputation like a good ol’ hard rock band from the eighties.
Beck caught my smirk and let out a throaty chuckle. Yep, real crazy, real dirty.
He dug his hands into his jeans. “When you step off of that nuclear powered express train that is a tour, like I did coming here, it’s a mind fuck. Part of me feels that real life is the alternate universe, not the tour.”
I giggled. “That is a mind fuck.”
He planted a foot against the wall behind him. “The hard nut to break is that real life has moved on without you, and suddenly you’re scrambling to catch up, and you have to because—”
“Because it’s real life.”
That muscle along his jaw flexed again. “I guess I’ll get used to all this one day—the train, the on and off the train.”
“You’re lucky you have your dad to talk to about it all, since he’s been there, done that, right?”
“He definitely gets it. Most of the time, though, I’m just too exhausted or strung out to even order room service, let alone call Dad and have some kind of meaningful conversation.”
“Get used to it, Beck Lanier. This is just the beginning. I see loads of tours in your future.”
“I hope so.” The lines of his face relaxed as his voice gentled, and my skin heated at the sound. That sincerity that came through when he sang was in his speaking voice—it wasn’t some artificial frosting for his performance. I could listen to that voice speak and sing forever.
Here in this dark shadowy hallway, just the two of us.
Anywhere in the dark, just the two of us.
He had no airs of “I’m a star,” no egotistical pretensions. Would they set in soon as he and his band kept on getting bigger and bigger?
Probably. Inevitably.
We stared at each other in the shadows, his eyes gleaming, my pulse beating harder, louder. With my spear, I hunted down something “normal” to say on this minefield of silence.
Ah!
“My mom told me that she’s catering Lenore and Finger’s wedding at the Meager Grand. She’s making big plans for decorating, the menu, the cake.”
“That’s right.” He grinned. “Good scones and croissants at the Grand. Finger went over there this morning and brought home a full spread. And the coffee—oh, Violet, I’ve missed good coffee.”
My private parts filled with heat at the way he’d uttered my name on a kind of primal groan. It may have been meant for the Grand’s coffee, but that groan was mine. I was going to snatch the memory of that “oh, Violet” very soon and pretend it was about something else. I pressed my legs together, my toes curling in my boots.
“Jesus, enough about me.” He licked at his lower lip, his gaze lasering on me. “The last time we saw each other, we were both still in high school. What are you up to these days?”
“Last year of college. I’m home on break.”
“Terrific. What are you majoring in?”
“Nothing I wanted,” slid from my mouth, and his eyes widened. Shit. Evil Truth and I were doing the tango on a whiskey sour dance floor, no stopping us now.
“Oh. That sucks.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.”
I blinked. No one had ever argued that point with me. Only smiles, only “good for you!”
My face heated as I shifted my weight. “It’s just that eventually, I’m going to be working with my dad in his land development business, helping my mom run her business, so I need to know how to handle all that. That’s what college is for.”
“Is it? Really?”
My heart beat faster at his suddenly serious tone. A criticism? An objection? He didn’t approve, and that bit me hard. Worst of all, his tone was colored with challenge.
Beck Lanier could see right through me. No one else ever had. No one.
Was he disappointed in me? Surprised? I know I was, and that was more than enough to handle.
He leaned in close, and I steeled myself. “What is it you want, Violet?” His breath fanned my face, his sensual lips moving close to mine. His heat, his scent like freshly chopped wood and lemons filling my senses. “Tell me.”
Evil Truth spun me on our dance floor, dipped me back over his arm. I met Beck’s penetrating glare.
“Come on, Violet,” he breathed. “Say it. Say it out loud.”
“I want to dance in the wind, sing in the roar.” I quoted his stunning lyrics. Everything I’d never before expressed, everything churning inside me. Always they had been abstract feelings, hopes, daydreams. Whispers inside me. But tonight, tonight for the first time it all made sense, it all came together. The whispers were loud and clear. All because of Beck.
His eyes gleamed in the shadows, two beacons. “Then do it.”
“It’s complicated.”
He gripped my arms and leaned in closer. My pulse surged like a revitalized car battery. “The good stuff is never easy, but maybe it’s not so complicated. Maybe it's just the idea of pushing against the tide.” His breaths got shorter, rougher. “Go after what makes you high, Violet. No matter what, no matter how hard you think it is. No matter what anybody else says. My mom taught me that. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes, to fail here and there. Learn. Go wild. Be reckless. It can be a good thing, because that’s where you’ll find your gold, the gold you’re made of that no one can take away from you. Is there something that makes you really happy?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Good.” He brushed a piece of hair past my face, his warm fingertips sweeping down to my neck, and I shuddered. “We only get one shot at life, Violet. Only one.” His knuckles stroked the side of my face, spreading a blaze over my flesh like a forest fire in August heat. Uncontrollable, wild, intense. “There’s nothing better than doing what you love. Translating who you are, what you see and hear into—”