Love Rock'ollection: The Brutal Strength Rock Star Trilogy, books 1-3 (61 page)

Marcus growled, pushing off from the wall where he’d been leaning. He advanced toward the man, his hands fisted. He was just about to straighten the guy out when Avery put her hand on his chest.

“It’s ok.”

“No it’s not Ace. The guy’s being an asshole.”

The photographer saw Marcus coming and backed up a step. “She needs to relax,” he said in a more conciliatory tone. “I can’t get a good shot until she does.”

Avery sighed and gave Marcus a defeated look. He could tell that she was at the end of her rope, just like him, only she was handling it much better.

“Hold up a minute,” he said getting an idea. “I’ll be right back.”

“Now what?” he heard the photographer comment. “These rock types are such divas.”

When Marcus returned a couple of minutes later, he was glad to see someone had draped a coat around Avery’s bare shoulders. Her emerald eyes sparkled and she smiled at him when she saw what he carried.

He placed the black Ibanez in her hands and glared at the photographer. “Why don’t you give it a try now?”

“STOP FRETTING ABOUT it. I saw the shots he took of you with your guitar,” Marcus said stroking his knuckle down her soft cheek. “They were incredible.” He gave her a playful grin. “I think you love that Ibanez more than me.”

Avery laughed and threaded her fingers through his. She glanced out the window of the Mercedes stifling a yawn. Their plans to take a nap before meeting Marcus’ family and Justin for dinner had gone up in flames. As soon as Marcus had snuggled up against her back in the big king sized bed her body had flooded with heat, and she had reached for him. Her cheeks flushed remembering the way they’d spent the afternoon.

Ray pulled the car over near the curb on Robson Street. The popular downtown Vancouver thoroughfare was brimming with activity, the sidewalks on both sides of the street bustling with pedestrians. Shoppers draped with paper bags from Roots and Levis Strauss hurried home with their purchases, and late night diners like Marcus and Avery poured out of taxis and double parked vehicles to dine at restaurants perched above the retail shops.

Avery giggled as she and Marcus both reached in the seatbacks in front of them for their baseball caps and sunglasses. Back in New York she could never have imagined a lifestyle like this. Marcus reached back for her hand as he helped her from the car. He leaned an elbow against the open passenger window and told Ray, “We’ll call you later. It’ll probably be late.”

“No problem, Boss. Have a good time Avery.”

“Thanks Ray. Tell your mom hi for me.”

Marcus slid his hand to the center of her back as they walked up the concrete steps to Cin Cin, a Tuscan inspired restaurant popular with locals and visiting celebrities alike. Inside the ornately appointed upscale establishment, the aroma of garlic and freshly baked bread immediately made his stomach growl. The maître d took their jackets and escorted them past the mirrored hand carved marble bar where it was standing room only, overflowing with sharp dressed men and women in cocktail dresses.

Avery looked down at her off the shoulder grey cowl cashmere sweater and black skinny jeans and frowned. “I think I’m underdressed.”

“You look hot, especially in those heels,” he reassured her as they entered a set of curtained double doors into a private dining room. The room was cozy but elegant, the gold walls accented with black and white photos of Italy. A chandelier dripping with crystal hung over the center of a long table that ran the length of the room. The rest were already gathered around it.

Still handsome in his sixties, Marcus’ father rose from his seat at the head of the table and came over to greet them. His blue eyes sparkled with warmth as he kissed Avery’s cheek. “You look beautiful.” He clapped Marcus on the back. “Haven’t run her off yet have you?”

“No, Dad. Not yet. Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Marcus said drily.

Don chuckled and Avery kissed his cheek.

As they moved down the length of the table to an open pair of seats, Rheta glanced up at Avery and smiled. Avery bent over and laid her cheek against her auburn hair and hugged her shoulders.

Marcus’ mother patted her hand. “Avery, love. Sit here beside me. Lisa and I,” she motioned across the table toward Dwight’s wife, “were just having a discussion about names for the baby.”

Marcus pulled out a chair for Avery and took the seat beside her. “Did you find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“This afternoon.” Dwight beamed at Lisa’s side. “It’s a boy.”

“Holy Cow!” Avery exclaimed, tears brimming. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Avery.” The petite ebony haired beauty smiled. “How was the photo shoot this morning?”

“Cold.” She laughed. “And a little weird. I’m not much of a model.”

“She’s just being modest,” Marcus interjected. “She’s a real pro and obviously very photogenic,” he said proudly. “I got a peek at the digitals. They’re really good.”

Avery leaned over and kissed his cheek. Marcus took her hand and stroked the sensitive skin of her inner wrist with his calloused thumb. She shivered.

“So have you decided on a name?” Marcus asked.

“I like the name Arthur, Art for short,” Lisa said.

Avery’s face drained of color.

“Art Anthony sounds like a Dr. Seuss character,” Dwight objected, oblivious to Avery’s reaction.

“Not a good idea,” Marcus said, shaking his head at Lisa and Dwight while staring at Avery with concern.

Avery twisted her napkin in her lap.

With an abrupt gesture, she watched Marcus wave off the questions before they could be voiced. The table became quiet, everyone’s faces mirroring Marcus’ expression of concern.

“Arthur is our father’s name,” Justin offered ending the uncomfortable silence.

“I’m sorry, Avery,” Lisa said, leaning forward. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s ok,” Avery said, meeting Lisa’s gaze. She took a deep breath and gave a tremulous smile. “Really, it’s not a big deal.”

“Well,” Rheta said, deftly changing the subject. “I bet you three are excited about the tour. Who’s going to be the opening act?”

“A heavy metal band from Seattle that Marcus picked,” Dwight muttered. “Unilateral decision on his part.”

“Hey, bro. I had to move fast. Trevor found out they’d been cut by their label. Someone else would have signed them if we didn’t.”

“Trevor Barnes?” Avery perked up at the mention of the name of the agent who had gotten her the gig with Brutal Strength. He was also a good friend.

“Yeah,” Marcus said, exchanging a long look with Dwight that Avery couldn’t identify. “We’ve kept in touch.”

“Why were they cut?” Dwight prodded.

“Couldn’t meet their contractual obligations. Blew through their entire signing advance and then some during their first tour.”

“Seriously?” Dwight’s brows rose.

“Yeah, they partied themselves into a tight financial bind. The lead guitarist was over in England playing with another band trying to raise cash to pay off his portion of the debt.”

“I don’t know.” Dwight’s brow furrowed. “Sounds like a shaky dynamic for the road.”

“I did some checking. Personality wise they seem like a cohesive bunch, and they’re certainly great musicians.” Marcus ran a hand through his hair. “Mary thinks they’ll be alright with some financial direction and the proper management.”

“Meaning, she’ll make sure they toe the line.”

Marcus nodded. “Got ‘em signed last week. The lead singer’s a bit of a douche, but the lead guitarist kicks ass.”

“Sounds like our band,” Dwight quipped.

Marcus rolled his eyes.

“What’s their name?” Avery asked.

“Tempest.”

“Tempest.” Avery tapped her lips. “Oh, yeah. I remember them. They had a real strong debut album. Top ten last fall. When do we get to meet them?” she asked eagerly.

“Not till we land in Seattle, the night before the first concert. We have a joint meet and greet planned with them and some VIP’s and tour sponsors. The usual.”

The waiter took advantage of the lull in conversation to step forward to take their drink and appetizer order. Avery gave Marcus a poke in the side when he asked if there was any candied salmon on the menu. By the time the waiter departed, the conversation around the table had taken off in many different directions.

Justin was listening intently to something Don was telling him. He smiled when he saw Avery watching them.
Good,
she thought, happy to see him hit it off with Marcus’ dad. Justin could use a steady positive male influence in his life. Maybe he would even abandon his idea to talk to their father. She could only hope.

“Say,” Dwight remarked, a mischievous look in his eye. He gestured to one of the large carafes of sparkling water the waiter had left on the table. “Reminds me of a story.”

Suddenly, Avery felt Marcus’ hand tense in hers.

He rubbed the other over his face. “No one wants to hear that story again, Dwight.”

“What story?” Lisa asked, tucking a loose strand of her straight black hair back into her chignon. “I want to hear it. The pregnant woman’s desires takes precedent over any objections.” She grinned at Marcus.

“Well, you see, it went like this,” Dwight began while Marcus glared. “One weekend, when my little brother was eight, we got permission to go to the movies with our older cousin, Stephen as our driver and chaperone.”

Marcus groaned again and slumped down in his chair.

“Now at the time,” Dwight continued, “there was a big news story about some sicko who was exposing himself in public restrooms, so Mom made us promise that we wouldn’t use the restroom at the theatre under any circumstances. So, we all went to the bathroom beforehand. Well, all of us, except Milhouse here.”

“Milhouse?” Avery questioned, looking toward Marcus.

“Bart’s nerdy friend on
The
Simpsons
. That’s what Stephen and Dwight called me before I got big enough to kick their ass. Totally inaccurate, by the way. I was
not
a nerd.”

“Whatever,” Dwight replied. “Anyways, not only did Marcus not go to the restroom, unbeknownst to the rest of us, he guzzled about a quart of lemonade before we left and then drank a big soda during the movie.”

“It was summer,” Marcus protested. “I was thirsty.”

“About halfway through the show, Marcus needed to go. Stephen told him, ‘You have to hold it. You know what Aunt Rheta will do if she finds out we broke the rules.’ So for a while, he was quiet, but then he really started whining. So, Stephen finally tells him, ‘Here. Go in this cup,’ and hands him his empty. Of course, Marcus didn’t want to, but in the end, he didn’t really have any choice.”

Avery glanced over at Don, who was tearing up in an effort to restrain his mirth.

Dwight grinned. “So, he’s whizzing in the cup, eh, and it’s getting pretty near the top, so Stephen starts whispering, ‘Shut it down!’ And Marcus is saying, ‘I can’t! I can’t!’”

Don couldn’t help himself, bursting into laughter.

“These teenage girls behind us were snickering. Marcus finally managed to stop, but the cup was filled to the brim.”

By this time, everyone at the table had joined in the laughter, except for Marcus.

“You have to admit, it’s a funny story, little brother.”

“Laugh now, bro.” Marcus gave Dwight a look. “I’ll get you back for this.”

“Oh, lighten up,” Dwight said wiping tears from his eyes. “I still wonder what the usher thought when he picked up that warm cup after the show. Don’t you?”

Avery grinned at Marcus and leaned over and kissed him. “I think it’s cute,” she muttered against his lips that were pressed into a humorless line.

“You would,” he said mouth quirking up into a reluctant half smile. He turned to the table. “Ok. Ok. You guys have had your fun. Let me take a look at the menu and try to figure out what I’m going to have for dinner.”

“Just go easy on the liquids,” Avery said with a smirk.

“COLD SNAKE IS playing at the Venue tonight,” Justin told Avery, leaning over the back of her chair while Marcus paid the bill.

“No way!” she exclaimed. “Why’re they playing at such a small place?”