Chasing the Music: For the Love of Music Book 0.5 (5 page)

How busy could one man be?

Griffin’s face flashed in her mind with that awestruck expression, followed by her dad’s frown, followed by Carmen’s words, followed by her missteps in rehearsal, followed by The Tonight Show, followed by the Twitter backlash from her comments that morning… They wound and wound and wound and wound, tightening everything inside her to breaking point. Her chest burned, and her stomach felt as if it had folded in on itself.

Lita gasped for air and loosened the grip on the sink that she didn’t know she held. She shook out her hands and tried to slow her breathing, carefully
not
looking in the mirror. Okay. She moved back through the door and into her room.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lita said. It was either that, or hide, and she wasn’t going to give in to that.

Bridget’s face lit up. “Awesome.”

Five

Griffin’s hands trembled as he watched Lita walk out the side door. Lita James. She’d spoken to him. He was holding her guitar. Lita. Fucking. James. Her guitar. In his hands.

She was smaller than he thought, waves of blond hair and her classic “Lita James” bangs hanging over her face. And the leather pants. Just like he’d imagined, only he hadn’t arrived in time to hear her play. Not yet.

But there was something else—a flash of uncertainty on her face before painting something else on as she looked up. Maybe it had been his imagination.

“Wipe off the drool, moron.” Ryker shoved his brother.

“Seriously, leave me alone.” Griffin turned, clutching the guitar.

“You can fix this, right? Without taking the whole thing apart?” Ryker shifted a few times, which was a sure sign to Griffin that he had no idea what was wrong. “Because it keeps slipping out of tune, and without doing a serious rebuild, I’m not sure what else to do.”

Ryker had shed his Georgian accent, which made Griffin much more aware of his.

“I can fix anything,” Griffin said. “Show me where you keep your tools.”

Ryker gestured to a corner of the stage area. “Everything is back here right now. It’s sort of makeshift, but it’ll be worse when we’re actually on the road.”

“I can do this. I’m used to the trailer.” The one Griffin didn’t miss. At all.

His phone beeped in another text. It would be Stacy. Again. Asking if he missed her. Again.

How could he miss her when she dropped him a note every five minutes?

He let out a sigh and forced himself to remember what her life had been like. An oddball mother, rotating fathers…a crazy aunt...

Miss you tons
He wrote.
Already put me to work. I’ll call tonight.

Her message back was almost immediate.
xoxo baby. Let’s Facetime later. Wink. Wink.

He loved his phone, but if this continued it wouldn’t be a break from his life, it would be doing it long-distance while trying not to screw up his new gig.

“We’ve got another just like this guitar if we need it, but she never uses the thing,” Ryker said. “I’m gonna make a call.”

Griffin ignored his brother while he slowly set down Lita’s guitar. A classic Les Paul. The newer ones were more advanced, but there was something about the early eighties versions that just felt perfect for what Lita sang. He could see why she used this guitar. And it was her mom’s. That was a detail he didn’t know, which meant probably very few people knew. A slip?

Griffin ran his fingers over Lita’s guitar and the reality of his situation hit him again. He was on tour with someone whose music he loved, and now, he had to fix her guitar. No. Not had to. Got to. And he was going to stay up all night if that’s what it took to make it perfect.

Lita’s phone rang as the limo took her to another day of practice. The kickoff for the tour was coming up fast, and she had to be ready.

CHANDLER

“Hey you.” She grinned as she answered.

Bridget glanced over her iPad and Apelu leaned forward in his seat.

Chandler let out a rush of breath. “Hey.”

“Were you nervous to call?” she asked with a smile.

“Yeah. A little.”

Silence.

“I’m guessing you called for a reason?” she asked.

“My agent suggested… He thought maybe we should be seen together again. Before you take off?”

Lita glanced up at Dave. “Did you put Chandler’s agent up to this?”

He shrugged, but the slight smile said that yes, he’d definitely been involved.

Of course. She was surprised it hadn’t come up sooner after the surge in sales from last time they were together. “Come to the show tomorrow. If our rehearsals are any indication, I might suck, but yeah. Come. It’ll be fun.”

There was an odd hesitation on his end. “That’d be great. And if you have a few minutes after… I’d like to just… Maybe we could talk for a bit? I’m up for the new X-Men movie, and I thought maybe a few more pictures couldn’t hurt.”

Perfect
. “As long as you don’t mind me bitching for a moment about the craziness of the night.”

“Done,” he said.

“Great.” Lita relaxed into her seat. “See you then.”

Bridget had a brow cocked so high, Lita was sure it would touch her hairline any moment.

“What?”

“You like him?” Bridget asked. “Like
actually
like him?”

“Not allowed.” Apelu chuckled next to her.

“Definitely.” Dave gave her such a dad-type look over his iPad. “Definitely not allowed. Unless you’re willing to go public in a big way.” And his dad-smile turned into his manager-smile.

Lita shrugged. “He’s easy to talk to, and ridiculously hot. What’s not to like?” And maybe she’d feel something different around him that she hadn’t felt last time. Maybe…

“You’ll tear him to pieces.” Bridget smiled over her phone and continued furiously tapping.

Lita winked, enjoying that even her friend was sometimes fooled by her image. “Maybe.”

The car pulled to a stop and Apelu jumped out before Lita. She pushed her way through the door, knowing she was early and hoping to get some time onstage before the band showed up.

Ryker grinned his typical shit-eating grin in the dark of backstage and Lita stopped. “What?”

“Go check your guitar.” He gestured to the stage.

She set her shoulders and strode to where Griffin sat tuning.

Her long strides halted as she watched his hands run along the guitar almost like he was talking to it. Like she used to take the time to do. She tucked her fingers in her soft jeans’ pockets; so thankful she’d ditched the leather pants. They were ridiculous things to wear for rehearsal. But the boots… She had to have on the boots.

Griffin hummed a few lines as he played and her heart stuttered, and then she pushed forward, armoring herself the best way she knew how. Better to disappoint him now than later—or maybe the cast iron bitch was who he was expecting. “Will it hold a tune?”

“What?” Soft brown eyes peered up at her. “Of course.”

She cocked her head and looked at the red guitar in his hands. That couldn’t be hers. There had been a crack.

“You didn’t pick up a fake, did you?”

He chuckled. “Nope. Check it over. The crack looked a lot worse than it was. It was just a scratch; maybe hit the amp on its way down. A crack would have been fairly devastating to her.”

She reached out and he set the familiar weight of her Les Paul back in her arms. She ran her fingers over the smooth red and pushed down the flashes of her mom doing the same.

“You are good.” She shifted her weight to one leg; glad she’d worn higher heeled boots because she knew her legs looked better. Not that it mattered what the new guy thought of her legs.

“Thanks.”

“Can I play it?”

He flashed her a smooth close-lipped smile. “It’s why I’m here.”

Lita studied him for a moment—open honesty and goodness. Something she hadn’t seen in someone in way too long.

“You’re not an asshole.” She smirked.

He stood. She glanced up and sucked in a breath at his height, smooth lips, and faint stubble. “I try.”

She found herself smiling back before she realized it, small butterflies dancing in her stomach.

“Enjoy her.” He nodded to the guitar. “I’ve never played something so smooth.”

She stumbled over her mouth before finding words because that’s exactly how she’d describe her guitar. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He started off the stage leaving some kind of spicy, earthy scent in his wake. Holy shit he smelled good. Lita clutched the guitar, any trace of the scratch completely gone.

“Thanks again for the job,” he said over his shoulder.

Lita sat on her stool, pried her eyes off of Griffin’s toned backside, and ran her hands up the guitar—a gesture she normally only did when alone, but something about Griffin doing it made it seem okay. “Glad you’re here,” she said quietly.

She closed her eyes and let her hands fall over the strings, remembering all the early lessons from her mom and all the reasons she fell in love with music. All the things she sometimes felt she was chasing to keep close. It had been a long, long time since the memories of why she started in music had consumed her that way. It was as if something shifted inside her, and she clutched the guitar tighter.

Now she had to focus so she didn’t have another day where the band sounded like hell.

Six

At last count there had been ten people in her dressing room. Ten. Hairdressers, her manager, Bridget, Apelu, the new guy Apelu hired…

Her hair was jerked upward again to be teased to death, and she started scrolling through her phone. One day she was going to pay attention when the hairdressers pulled her hair into something that looked part Mohawk, part beehive, so she could do it herself. Instead she sent her dad another text.

Call when you can. Timing isn’t important. Been a while. Miss you.

She hovered over the send button for a moment, her fingers shaking, her breathing stopped. What if he didn’t answer? What if he didn’t call? Her text was practically begging her father to call her, so what happened if that didn’t work?

Sucking in a lungful of air, Lita erased the text and dropped her phone on the small counter. “How much longer?”

“Chill, chica,” Bridget chided over her iPad. “In a few. No one wants to see you if you’re not gorgeous.”

Lita stuck her tongue out at her friend. “One day I’m going to tour without all this insanity.” She gestured around the room.

“And that’s when I’ll quit because you’ll no longer be able to afford me.” Bridget smirked.

Yeah. Maybe. She started humming to warm up her voice. In a few minutes the meet and greet would happen, so she had to find her best “Lita James” face for all the people with backstage passes.

Nerves raced up her legs and skittered through her core.

Reviews.

Pictures.

Opinions.

Praise.

Haters.

It would all come out tonight on social media and tomorrow in the papers in full force, and it all depended on her first night.

Music slammed into Griffin’s ears.
Catch Me If You Can
, one of his favorites from Lita, and he knew he was smiling like an idiot, but he really couldn’t help himself. Being on tour with Lita James was temporary, and Griffin was going to love every second of it.

At that moment he stood
backstage
at a concert for a multi-Grammy winning artist. Kickoff for the tour.
She knew his name.
He’d fixed her guitar, and now he was in all black, aside from his grey jeans since he didn’t own a black pair, and backstage with the crew.

He was crew.

For Lita James.

He stared at her onstage, blond hair blown up on her head almost like a mohawk, and made up like on an old poster that was still hanging in his room. Every move and every note was impeccably
her.
Or the her that he knew from TV, Youtube, interviews…

How much of her image was her creation and how much was real? Now that he was there, he wanted to know. Either way her lyrics were killer, and she had great instincts in set lists and interesting chord progressions—definitely someone whose music he looked up to.

He rested his hands on his head to watch. Never did he think he’d be this close to her.

“It does get old,” Ryker yelled next to him.

“Only if you’re you,” Griffin said, not taking his eyes off Lita’s singing form.

Ryker slugged him. “I’m gonna go check out the girls desperate to get backstage. You want in?”

“Are you seriously trolling for girls?” he asked, though he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Ryker snorted. “Of course I am. They’re looking for a crazy night of fun, which is perfect because that’s all I’m good for.”