Musician's Monsoon (8 page)

There was a moment of complete and utter silence where everyone in the room just stared at her. She put her hands on her hips and waited.

Matt glanced around at all of his band mates, cleared his throat, hunched his shoulders like a chastised child, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He looked up at Sophie and sighed. “I’m sorry. That was totally douche-baggy of me. I’m just a little stressed out. But that’s no excuse for the crap I said.”

Sophie nodded curtly and leaned closer to him. “And for the record, if Zane had done with me what you said he did, not only would he have his creativity back, but he’d have so much music oozing out of him he’d be able to play all the instruments himself and you’d all be out of a job. So, until you see that happen, watch your mouth.”

There was another moment of total silence, and Sophie turned to see Zane staring at her with his jaw practically on the floor. Heat flooded her face as her anger dissipated.

He reached out to take her hand. “Here, let’s go talk in the hall for a second.” He pulled her out of the room and turned to face her when the door clicked shut. “Holy crap,” he muttered.

She shrugged and bit her lip to stop a smile. “I told you I was good at defending myself.”

“I guess…geez.”

She giggled.

He sighed and ran his hands down her shoulders. “Sophie, I know this is weird, and last minute and probably terrifying, but we really need your help.
I
need your help.”

She looked up into his green eyes and saw only sincerity and a hint of desperation.

“I know Matt was being an idiot. He’s always being an idiot. He doesn’t know when to shut up.”

She waved her hand. “Matt isn’t an issue. He’s a child. I deal with those every day. What’s disconcerting to me is the fact that, sure, okay, I know how to play the bass and I have done so in public and at home and would probably be fine so long as I was given ample time to rehearse the set list, but, Zane, I don’t know the first thing about being a rock star. About being a
performer.
”

He chuckled and cradled her face in his hands. “Sophie, if you harness a fraction of the passion you displayed in that hotel room, you’ll knock everybody’s socks off. Just pretend everyone in the audience really pissed you off.”

She laughed in spite of herself, but a wave of unease washed over her. “But I don’t look remotely close to how a rock star is supposed to look. I’m just me. Just―”

“Don’t you dare say boring. Rhonda can help you with your wardrobe if you want to look a bit more edgy. Otherwise, don’t worry about it. You’re so much more beautiful than you give yourself credit for.”

Her heart melted and surrendered even while her rational mind was still screaming that she was the world’s biggest idiot for considering this insane thing. She heaved a sigh. Apparently, her “one night of adventure” was like a runaway train with no tracks and no emergency brake. “I have to call the school. I have some personal time I can take.”

His eyes lit up. “So, you’ll do it?”

She fixed him with a stern expression. “Two shows.” She held up her first two fingers for emphasis. “Just until your guitar tech is better. That’s all.”

He let out a whoop of elation and wrapped her up in his arms. “Thank you, Sophie. You have no idea what this means to me.”

She closed her eyes and let his warmth permeate her. His arms were strong and steady, keeping her stable, but gentle, offering comfort. Oh man. She was so totally screwed.

“I have to take Lorraine’s car back to her. This is going to be fun to try and explain.”

“I’ll go with you.”

She smiled up at him. “Thanks. When is this first show I have to do?”

“Tomorrow night. In San Diego. We leave tonight.”

She nodded. “As soon as we get back from this little chore, I’m going to need the set list, and I’m going to have you go over some of the songs with me so I know for sure what I’m doing.”

“Of course.” He started to open the hotel room door again, but then stopped and turned back to her with an arched eyebrow and a smirk. “All instruments at once, huh?”

A horrible wave of heat, worse than any she’d experienced since meeting him—and there had been a lot—spread over her face and neck, but to her credit, she didn’t look down like she wanted to. She stood her ground and lifted her chin a notch. “Oh, you have no idea.”

His eyebrows shot up so high they almost touched his hairline. He chuckled and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her up against him and lowering his lips to hers. “You know that storm we watched last night?” he whispered. At her breathless nod, he nuzzled his lips against her neck and nipped at her earlobe. “That monsoon has nothing on you, baby.”

She grinned. That may be the best thing anyone had ever said to her. When he pulled back, his eyes were full of warmth that set every part of her on fire. She could get used to him looking at her like that. Just like she could get used to him kissing her. She could get used to a lot of things…

Yeah, she was totally, totally screwed.

Sophie stared at her reflection in the mirror for so long she started to lose concept of time. She kept thinking that, if she stared hard enough, she would see traces of herself, but she didn’t. Like, not even one.

“Do you like it?” Rhonda asked as she finished with her hair.

The hair wasn’t so bad. She could deal with the hair. All Rhonda had done was flat-iron it, put in some mud, or wax, or paste, whatever it was, and tousle it all up like she had a stylish case of bedhead. That was fine. It was the outfit she had picked for her and the makeup that was making her feel woozy. She’d stuck her in a black miniskirt, of all things, with red and black-striped tights and black combat boots. On top she was wearing a black tank top with a tight black fishnet shirt over it. Sophie could see Rhonda getting away with wearing it, but she felt completely exposed and completely ridiculous. Not to mention the heavy black eyeliner Rhonda had caked around her eyes and the bright red lipstick.

But Rhonda had been exceedingly nice to her, so she didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She forced a meager smile. “I don’t even look like me.”

Rhonda grinned. “You’ll be fine tonight, Sophie. Don’t worry about it. You did awesome during sound check.”

Sophie glanced at herself in the mirror again, and her chest started to feel really tight. She swallowed hard and fought a wave of dizziness.

Rhonda must have sensed her distress, because she put her hands on her shoulders in a gesture of comfort. “Do you want me to go get Zane?”

Sophie bobbed her head and felt tears burning her eyes. What was she doing here? This was ten kinds of crazy. In the last forty-eight hours, she had randomly accosted her favorite rock star, had run away with him into the night, made out with him in the back of a car and decided to play substitute bass player for two nights at two sold-out heavy metal shows! She’d had to break that news to her cousin, which had been nothing short of WWIII, then get on a bus with a bunch of strangers and go to San Diego, where she’d been given a crash course in Shadows Rising songs. She’d practiced until her fingers were raw and she felt okay about the music, but this sudden disappearance of her own self was highly unsettling. This wasn’t her. She didn’t do things like this. She didn’t
wear
things like this. She felt as if she had lost all traces of her personality in a matter of moments and had been replaced with some other version.

Zane entered the dressing room at that moment and she stood, then turned to face him.

“Whoa, look at you,” he murmured, but it wasn’t necessarily an enthusiastic response.

She tried to say something, but all that came out of her mouth was a shaky, wheezy sounding exhale. Her chest tightened even more, and the tears hovered right on her eyelashes.

Zane looked at her in confusion and concern and took her hands in his. “Are you all right?”

Again, she tried to speak, and again, all that came out was the same strangled sound. Her heart started to pound, and she could feel the blood thrumming in her ears.

“Sophie, I think maybe you need to inhale,” Zane said.

She shook her head and sucked in a gasping breath of air. It hurt, and didn’t feel like it was enough.

“Are you going to pass out?” he asked, his face etched with worry. “You gonna puke?”

She looked at what he was wearing. He looked gorgeous. Surprise, surprise. He always looked gorgeous. He was in a gray shirt with some skulls and whatnot all over it and a pair of black jeans with chains hanging from his left pocket. He looked normal, like himself. She, on the other hand…

“I don’t even know who I am right now,” she finally managed to rasp out. “What am I doing here?”

He frowned. “What do you mean? Sophie…”

“Look at me!” she shouted. “I look like some kind of whacked-out pirate! This is not me! Who is this person? I can’t handle this! I don’t belong here!” She noted the hysteria in her voice and wondered where her rational mind had gone.

“Sophie!” Zane reached up and took her face in his hands. “Calm down, look at me.”

She did so, and his lovely green eyes gave her a small measure of peace.

“This
is
you, Sophie. Just a different version of you.”

She shook her head. “No!
This
is not me!” She indicated her abhorrent wardrobe. “Seriously, I feel like a doll. How am I supposed to go out on stage and do anything productive if I feel like a stranger in my own body? I’m not supposed to be edgy. I’ve never been edgy.” The tears that had been threatening succeeded in cascading down her cheeks. “I’m boring, remember? I’m plain! I’m uninteresting and average. What am I even doing here? I’m going to have a heart attack!” She dissolved into soft sobs, hating her tirade of girlish insanity, but she felt more out of her element and out of control in that moment than she had in her entire life.

Zane’s arms came around her, and he enveloped her in his comforting embrace. “How many times do I have to tell you that you are not boring?” he whispered, feathering kisses across the top of her head. “You’ve never been boring and you’re never going to be. Although, I agree with you on the outfit. It’s terrible.” He took her by the shoulders and pulled away enough to wipe her tears away. “You look like some kind of Gothic sailor vampire.”

Sophie gave a watery laugh and wiped at her eyes.

Zane chuckled. “I love Rhonda like my own sister, and she means well, but she doesn’t always realize that what she can wear, not everyone else can wear. Do you have your suitcase with you?”

“I don’t have a suitcase, Zane. I was only driving down for one day to see the concert. All I brought was a backpack with a few essentials just in case. I need to hit a freaking store at some point. At any rate, it’s over there.” She pointed to the corner of the room.

He went over to her bag, rummaged through it for a minute, then came back with her jeans. “Put these on. I won’t look.” He winked at her and went back to her bag.

She smiled at his gentlemanly gesture, yanked off the combat boots and the hideous tights, then discarded the miniskirt and tugged on her faded pair of jeans. She sighed in relief at the familiar comfort. “Well, I feel half like myself,” she stated.

He came back with a black shirt in his hand that he set aside. Then he reached out and lifted the black fishnet over her head. Her breath caught at the subtly intimate action, and when his hands came back down to toy with the hem of the tank top as well, electricity arced between them and made the room feel sweltering.

“You want me to turn around again?” he murmured.

She licked her suddenly dry lips, loving the green fire burning in his eyes. She shook her head. “It’s okay, I have a bra on. Just like a bikini, right?”

Something dangerous flashed over his features, but he said nothing else. With painful slowness, he pulled the tank top off also. He flung it on the floor, and his fingers brushed across the bare skin of her torso for a moment. She sucked in her breath at the velvet-soft contact. His eyes grazed her in a heated way before he reached over to grab the shirt he had chosen for her to wear.

When he had pulled it over her head, she glanced down to see it was an old Pantera T-shirt she sometimes slept in. She frowned. “Are you serious? Just a plain old T-shirt?”

He smiled as he freed her hair from the collar of the shirt. “Rock and roll is all about music and attitude. It shouldn’t be about fashion or frills. There is nothing more rock and roll than a band shirt and a faded pair of blue jeans.” His gaze softened. “Maybe that was what caught my attention from the stage. Seeing you was like looking at my roots. Just plain ol’ rock and roll, before all the hoopla.” He stepped back to look her over and grinned. “There’s my girl.”