RIPPED: A Rockstar Romance (Wreckage Book 2) Page 6

  But when she dragged her hands down to press her fingers to her lips, I saw that she was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down her face. I grinned and twisted back to talk to the tech, knowing that I was miked and she could hear everything I said.

  "Mate, I'm concerned about the looks of this mole you've got back here. Might want to give your dermatologist a call." I glanced back at the sound booth to see that she had turned away, only the bright red of her curls visibly as her head bobbed in silent laughter.

  Today was looking up.

  "Okay, Mr. Spencer." The tech finally straightened up. "You are all set."

  "Aren't you going to ask for my number?" I whined as he walked away. "I feel so used."

  A booming voice piped into my ear. "Okay you limey bastards, cut the crap," Jimmy announced. "It's go time."

  "Finally," Ewan muttered, straightening up a little.

  "First, let me check all the levels," Jimmy went on.

  "Again?" Hudson whispered.

  "Jules!"

  "Aye!" I raised my sticks.

  "High-hat."

  I tapped my cymbal once.

  "Again." I could see Jimmy fiddling with some knobs, then leaning back to bark at the tech. Dutifully I tapped the high-hat again.

  Jimmy shook his head. "Ewan, give me C-major."

  Ewan started strumming but Jimmy clicked back on almost immediately. "Just once."

  Ewan's eyebrows zoomed up, but he played the chord as instructed.

  Jimmy shook his head again and leaned back. I couldn't hear what he was yelling at his tech and I almost wished I could because then we'd know what it was that was pissing him off.

  "You see them fighting but you can't hear what they're saying," Niall sighed. "This is just like when my mum and dad used to fight in the greenhouse."

  "Your house had a greenhouse in the yard?" Hudson asked.

  "Nah mate, his estate did. He's a bloody posh tosser," Ewan reminded us all. He glanced expectantly in my direction.

  I knew he was expecting me to jump in on the posh-Niall-bashing, as it was one of my favorite pastimes. But I was too busy watching Jimmy throw a soundless fit.

  Our first album was recorded in three days. The engineer had us stand in the middle of an abandoned church that he'd wired up the day before. We played as one, no backing tracks, no overdubs. Just us, essentially live. It had been magic, and all the more so because it was our very first album. It'd been the culmination of our life up to that point, a young, scrappy bar band working the London circuit before we scratched together enough money to make the jump to New York. We'd captured lightning in a bottle with that album.

  You'd think it would be even easier now. We were seasoned pros, with four albums and two world tours under our belt. But with each album, the standards we were held to - hell the standards we held ourselves to - they only got higher. While our first album took three days to record, the second took two weeks. The third was a month-long disaster. The fourth I barely even remembered because I'd made sure to be blackout drunk for most of it to avoid the worst of Killian's downward spiral. All I remembered was that the producer, Max Marple, was a total diva. Starstruck at the prospect of having his name in the credits for a Wrecked album, he'd driven us all to the breaking point with his perfectionism.

  With a sinking feeling, I realized Jimmy was the same way. An audio genius who held the whole world to his own impossible standards.

  I glanced over at Ewan. He shook his head, clearly on the same wavelength as me. "Shades of Marple, yeah?"

  I nodded. "History repeats itself."

  "Think she knew he'd be like this?" Ewan asked, lifting his chin towards the sound booth.

  I looked where he was looking. August was sitting there, her chin resting on her interlaced fingers. Her face was perfect bland serenity, but there was something about the set of her shoulders that told me how tense she was, sitting there listening as Jimmy gesticulated wildly above her.

  I shook my head and looked away. She'd hand-picked this guy. She should be perfectly comfortable with him and his perfectionism. And temper. They were kindred spirits. But she looked utterly miserable. I caught her gaze and felt myself give her a rueful smile.

  At that, her face suddenly changed. All at once she sat up straighter, tossing her fiery curls. I saw her raise her hand, imperious, and then her pretty little mouth started making the shapes of some pretty forceful looking words.

  "Ooh..." Niall sing-songed. "Jimmy's in trouble."

  He sure as hell was. Jimmy Catanese - famous producer and constantly in demand sound engineer - froze in mid-tirade the second August Waverly stood up to stand eye to eye with him. She mouthed some more forceful looking words, with a slight curl to her lip. I had no idea what she was saying but I knew that look. I could hear that withering snarl of hers in my head. And I almost felt pity for Jimmy. Locked in a room with her like that. He was probably afraid for his life.

  "Get him, lass," Ewan whispered. "Eat him alive."

  She finished her tirade with a winning smile, cocking her head so that her curls danced prettily around her face. Then her smile hardened. She said something else, her chin jutting out ever so slightly.

  Jimmy abruptly plopped down onto his stool.

  August smiled and sat down as graceful as a queen.

  I shifted and realized I was as hard as a fucking diamond.

  Jimmy switched on the mic. "Ah, let's just have you play all the way through, all right boys?" He glanced warily at August who gave a barely perceptible nod of approval. He came back on the mic. "So yeah. From the top then and I won't stop you. I promise."

  I looked up to where August was watching us. She caught me looking and gave a tight, proud little smile. "Nice work, love," I said.

  Her smile widened a fraction of an inch. But I saw it and I smiled too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  August

  The cool night air hit my face and took a huge grateful breath, happy to not be smelling garlic any more.

  Moments ago we'd wrapped for the day, and now the five of us were staggering around in the dark lot outside of the studio, punch-drunk and delirious.

  "I feel like I have wasps in my head," Niall complained.

  I pinched my fingers to the bridge of my nose. "Honestly?" I said. "I know exactly what you mean." My nerves were so fried I had no idea how I was going to drive us all safely back up the mountain. I'd forgotten how hard it was to be 'on' all day. In the sound-booth, there was no chance to stare off into space or fuck around on my phone for a ten minute brain break. Especially not after I'd rather loudly suggested to Jimmy that tone down the shrieking dive routine. He'd settled down but all the while I'd been sitting next to him, I could feeling the aggrieved resentment rising off of him in waves. I stretched, feeling my spine pop and rolled my head atop my neck. "Fucking hell," I exhaled.

  "You all right there, love?" Jules asked, suddenly at my elbow.

  "I'm fine," I said, lifting my chin, ready for the argument.

  But for once there was none. He just looked...concerned.

  From my perch in the sound booth, I'd watched him. Starting out the day crisp and confident, but slowly losing focus as the day dragged on. I'd been able to see him slowly unraveling from afar, but out here, under the harsh yellow glare of the lone light in the parking lot, I got an up close view.

  He looked completely worn out in a way that made something in my chest tighten. "How about you?" I heard myself ask. "You okay?"

  "Nothing a whisky won't fix," he said, some of the gleam returning to his eyes. He looked at the van. "You're not seriously taking us back to the cabins now, are you love?"

  I narrowed my eyes. "Where the hell else would I take you? You have a ten o'clock call tomorrow."

  Jules rubbed his hand across his forehead like I was causing him physical pain. "We just spent thirteen hours at the mercy of a bloody tyrant, yeah? There's no way in fuck you can expect us to just go back to our rooms without blowing off a little
steam." He opened his eyes a little wider, pleading. "Have a little heart, love. Show some mercy."

  The corner of my mouth twitched, and I looked away before he could see that he'd made me smile. "Well where the fuck do you expect me to take you?"

  "Nearest pub would be nice."

  It was dark in all directions. I looked at him, sincerely baffled. "I have no idea where that would be."

  "Isn't that why God invented smartphones?" Niall piped up. He stepped a little closer and fished his from his pocket. "Fucking hell, seriously?" he muttered as he glanced at his screen. "1x? Where are we, 1997?"

  "Mine's a brick too," Ewan added. "I can call, that's it."

  "Maybe we should dial directory assistance?" Hudson asked.

  "That still exists?"

  "We could ask Jimmy," Hudson ventured.

  "I'm not going back in there until I absolutely have to," Ewan growled.

  "Plus he'd probably direct us to a biker bar where they'd murder us for our foreign accents," Niall added.

  "Nah mate, just you." Ewan slung his arm over Niall's shoulders. "The rest of us don't sound like the upper class twit of the year."

  The two of them started scuffling, black boots sending up clouds of dust from the gravel lot. I laughed, for once not worried that they were going to fuck up each others faces before a show. We were recording now. I could relax a little.

  "Can we focus here, mates?" Jules laughed. He turned back to me. "A pub, love. A proper one, too. With a dart board and a juke box." He bent a little closer. "Don't you always tell us to leave it to you, you'll work your magic? I need your magic."

  I swallowed. "I might be able to think of something," I said slowly, trying to stall for time as I wracked my brain. But it felt like I was trying to pull a boot from quicksand. I shook my head, honestly sorry. "I would have to get on Wi-Fi and..."

  "Love, I'm begging you," Jules said, dropping down in front of me. "Look, I'm on my bloody knees."

  "Get up off the ground!" I hissed, looking around for some reason. As if I couldn't let anyone see us this way.

  He grinned up at me and pressed his hands together in prayer.

  I rolled my eyes to the heavens. And a sudden thought occurred to me.

  "Ah there it is," Jules said encouragingly.

  "Fuck!" I threw up my hands. "I have an idea."

  "Yes!" Jules leaped up and brushed the dirt from his knees.

  "But it involves going back to the cabins first."

  He cocked his head. "This isn't a dirty trick, is it love?"

  I lifted my chin. "I don't play dirty."

  He leaned in a little closer. "My underwear situation says otherwise."

  I felt my cheeks go up in flames and gave a silent prayer of gratitude for the cover of dark. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I hissed. Then a little louder I said, "We just have to go back real quick. There's someone I can ask where to go. Ten minutes, okay guys?" I promised my band, part of the magic again. "Just give me ten minutes and then I'll get you your drinks."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jules

  I stepped around Hudson and deposited myself right in the passenger seat.

  August turned and looked at me for a moment, surprised. I waited for her to make some kind of crack about it, because it honestly was out of character for me. I've never one to be up in the front of anything. I'm the drummer, after all.

  But up front was where August was, and for some reason I really wanted to sit by August.

  She turned the key in the ignition and the van rumbled to life. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. Fucking fierce and fully capable, she manhandled the van around the sharp mountain roads like she was beating it into submission. And for some reason I kept grinning every time she put her foot on the gas.

  Maybe I was fucking delirious. Or maybe I was just really excited about that promised whisky.

  Or maybe I was really looking forward to getting to see August Waverly cut loose.

  The thought of setting up a row of shots for her, maybe throwing on some tunes on the juke box and getting her to dance with me - nothing too much mind you, but moving next to her, watching her feel the music...

  That thought was really appealing to me.

  She wrenched the steering wheel nearly a full turn, throwing me sideways. "Oy, love," I bellowed as she skidded into the gravel drive."

  "Sorry," she muttered. "The turn snuck up on me."

  I licked my lips. That was the first time August had ever apologized to me for anything.

  Wish I kept a fucking diary because I would have circled today in red-marker.

  The van bounced up the dirt road to the cabins. August pulled halfway onto the grass and threw it into park, then twisted around. "You guys stay put," she ordered us. "I'll only be a second."

  I leaned against the window, the better to watch her ass illuminated by the high beams. I stared until disappeared into the night. Idly, I wondered what color bra she was wearing today. I hoped it was the red one.

  "Anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?" Ewan grumbled from the back seat.

  When no one else answered, I twisted in my seat. "You gone deaf? She's coming back."

  "Yeah but what has she got up her sleeve is what I'm worried about."

  "What's the matter mate? You don't trust her?"

  "You're telling me you do?"

  "I never said I didn't trust her."

  Ewan's eyes bugged. "Mate, are you shitting me?" He looked at Niall who was shaking his head slowly back and forth in disbelief. "Have I finally gone mental? Is that what's happening?" He looked back at me. "Because you've said literally that nearly every day since we hired her."

  I shrugged and twisted away from his utterly gobsmacked expression. "I didn't mean I didn't trust her," I hedged, and even I could hear how flimsy of an excuse it was. "I meant like...with our career and shit..."

  I trailed off and went silent, ignoring the hoots of laughter from behind me. I got it. I'd been a fucking ass when it came to August. I couldn't help it. She got under my skin the way a little sliver of shattered glass on the floor embeds itself in your bare foot. Every step I took, I felt her.

  It was fucking unnerving. And I didn't like being unnerved. It pissed me off.

  But here I was, trusting her enough to sit here quietly while she ran around in the dark doing who the hell knows, and all the while my heart was racing like a pimply teenager out on his first date.

  She emerged from the blackness, the headlights spotlighting her like she was a fucking star. I sat up a little straighter, my stupid heart racing ever faster now and an even stupider smile stretching across my face.

  And then the grin froze when I saw that she had someone with her.

  "Hey guys!" she said, opening the door and waving off a moth that fluttered desperately to the interior light. "Told you it wouldn't be long." She turned back to the intruder. "So here's everybody," she said, flicking her hand casually in our direction.

  A big guy, well-fed and sort of soft around the edges, but with the broad chest of a farmer leaned in the window. "Hi guys. I'm a big fan," he said with an easy grin.

  "Thanks mate," Ewan mumbled from the back, clearly as confused as I was.

  I kept silent because I didn't trust my mouth right now.

  "So I'm going to go grab my truck," the random asshole said to August. "Be right back." He waved to us and then set off with an easy grin.

  There was a heavy pause.

  "Who the fuck is that wanker?" I asked, turning to August.

  Her face was carefully neutral. "That's Eric."

  "Who's bloody Eric?" I needed to know.

  The neutrality slipped from her face. She leaned in and hissed, "He's one of the caretakers, you asshat. I met him yesterday and he offered to show us around."

  "You mean show you around." The way he'd looked at her made my teeth tingle.

  She reddened slightly. "No," she said firmly. "He specifically said all of us."
r />   "Sure he did," I snarled as his pick-up bounced along the lawn. Eric pulled up almost bumper to bumper with the van, then hopped out, leaving his high beams on. I winced and glared at August, wonder why she wasn't seeing what was so perfectly clear. This guy was a wanker.

  "Here August!" Eric called, jogging around back to open his passenger door. He beckoned. "Why don't you ride with me and the rest of you can follow?"

  I was already shaking my head no. Of course she wasn't going to do that. Not August. She was our manager. She took care of us. She was fucking...ours, for fuck's sake.

  Mine.

  I waited for her to tell him she'd follow him. In fact, by the disdainful way she tossed her curls, I was straight-up looking for it. There was no way that beautiful, fiery August could be interested in such a chump.

  She smiled tightly at Eric who was now hovering at her elbow. I glowered at him, silently warning him off. Her head tilted and then she turned to the back of the van. "Could one of you follow us?" she suddenly asked.

  "Sure," Hudson said, lurching out of his seat. "I can't drink anyway," he explained as he made his awkward way to the front. "Fucks with my voice."

  August smiled so brilliantly she put the high beams to shame. "Thanks," she said. Then she went tripping off across the grass and, to my utter horror, she got in the car with him.

  Then Eric pulled away. With August.

  Hudson threw the van into drive and we lurched sickeningly forward. I felt nauseous. Everyone in the van was dead quiet, like a fucking funeral or something.

  Then out of the back came Ewan's voice. "You all right, mate?" he asked.

  It took me a second to realize he was asking me. "Course," I said, staring out into the darkness. "I'm fucking fine."

  Chapter Fifteen

  August

  The guys were over by the juke box, close enough that I could see the silver ring that Jules always wore on this thumb, but far enough away that I couldn't hear what was making them all laugh and slap Hudson's back.