A Lush Rhapsody: A Rhapsody Novel (12 page)

Colin nods. “Yeah, we’ve got that covered.”

Joss lets out a sigh of relief, and I see Tully mouth, “Thank you,” from behind him.

“All right, if you can come to our dressing room we’ll look at the set list and see which songs you know well enough to play, then we can come up with some covers to fill in.”

Dez plants a hand on my chest to keep me in place for a second. “You need me to come along?” he asks quietly.

I shake my head. “No. I’m okay, I promise.”

Joss and Colin start to move off down the hall, and I look from Dez to Tully who’s now leaning up against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway.

As usual, Dez knows me almost better than I know myself.

“Carson. Let’s go look at those last few songs on our set list. Now that Blaze is going to be playing right after our slot we might want to rearrange some things so his fingers get a break before Lush performs.” He leads Carson away and I glance behind me to see that Garrett has wandered back inside our dressing room, texting like a madman as he goes.

My eyes rake over Tully standing there. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since last night, and my dick goes into semi-alert status almost instantaneously. This woman fucks with my self control in the very best way.

“Thank you,” she says softly from across the hall.

I let my eyes drop to the substantial amount of cleavage her purple stretchy top displays. “I think I should be thanking you,” I murmur.

She chuckles and shakes her head. Neither one of us moves, because we can’t. If we get within touching distance we won’t be able to stop ourselves. But we look at one another with hungry eyes, eating each other up the only way we can. And it’s like a kick to my gut, how much I want her. How I long to touch her smooth skin, sink my teeth into her plump lips, and suck those big, hard nipples into my mouth. Hell, even standing here, three feet away, unable to touch her at all is like some sort of gift from the gods. I’d stand here and stare at her all day if I could.

“There’s one thing you need to know,” I say as I push off the door frame and step closer to her. Her breath catches, and I see her pupils dilate, her lips parting at the same time. If she’s half as aroused as I am then her heart must feel like it’s going to beat right out of her chest.

“I did it for you,” I whisper as I move on by, knowing I can’t pause for even a moment or I’m going to devour her in public, consequences be damned.

She gasps a little “Oh” as I saunter down the hallway, and I decide right then and there that whatever I have to put up with from Lush tonight, it’s worth it to hear her make that one tiny noise.

I
’m
anxious to go onstage, so I’m waiting around in the wings, watching as the crew quickly replaces Rhapsody’s equipment with ours. I can still feel Blaze’s warm breath on my skin as he whispered that he was filling in for Mike because of me. I’m not sure what to do with that. Well, realistically I can’t do anything about that, which sort of makes me ache inside. So, since I can’t touch him or talk to him, I watched nearly the whole Rhapsody show. They’re amazing, and Blaze is the most amazing of them all.

Garrett has a very distinctive voice and his style on vocals is unique. I know that’s what people associate with the group, but Blaze is the backbone. He’s the thing that holds their whole sound together, and he’s so talented. He’s different than Mike, less classical in his approach, but he’s fast, wicked crazy fast, and with all of his six foot four Viking body ripping away at that guitar, blonde hair sticking to his neck and forehead, biceps flexing, hips shifting, he’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I sigh as I think about what it felt like when he kissed me last night. His tongue in my mouth, his fingers inside me. The jokes about guitarists knowing how to use those talented fingers for other things are definitely based on fact, not fiction.

Now he’s going to perform with us, and I hope that I can focus and do what I need to. It’s nerve-wracking enough to be performing live with the group for the first time, but then to have a stand-in guitarist who I also kind of have the hots for—well, let’s just say that the thought of puking backstage here has occurred to me.

But I know the alternative isn’t any better. When it looked like we might not be able to go on because Mike was so sick, I nearly fell apart. Because even though I hate him, James is in the audience, and if I don’t perform he’s going to say it only proves what he already knew—I’m a pretend musician and no one actually wants to see me play.

So when Blaze agreed to help us out, I nearly fell on my knees and thanked him. Between James waiting in judgment and all the p.r. about my debut, I knew I had to go on tonight or suffer for it in a big way. Blaze saved more than Lush’s cred with the concert promoters, he also saved my ass. Now I’m waiting to see
his
ass wrapped in all that faded denim come back onstage. It’s an exceptional ass I have to say.

“You ready to rock and roll, short stack?” His deep voice rumbles in my ear, startling me so I yelp.

“Oh!” I throw a hand over my heart as I turn slightly to look up at him as he looms over my shoulder. “Shit. Don’t sneak up on people like that. You scared the crap out of me.”

He adjusts the strap of his guitar that’s slung across his back. He changed t-shirts while he was offstage, and this one is tight across his biceps, making me remember what those muscles felt like under my fingers. The way they curve, rounded and bulging as he flexes them. Yeah, arm porn, it’s a thing.

“So does the new set look okay to you?” he asks as he takes a step back, a small smirk on his face. He knows what he’s doing to me, and he enjoys every second of it.

“Yeah. I’m amazed that you know as many of the songs as you do. No one will be able to tell we had to rearrange things at the last minute.”

He shifts back on his heels, stuffing one hand in the front pocket of his jeans. “It’s all the older stuff. I practice with all sorts of covers when I’m sitting around at home, so anything that comes on the radio I can usually play. But the newer stuff hasn’t been on Pandora long enough for me to learn it.”

“Well, I don’t think anyone’s going to complain. Classic Lush is pretty damn popular with an audience like this.”

He nods, gazing out onto the stage where Joss has appeared, directing a few of the last stagehands on where to place equipment. Colin and Walsh are hanging out by the drums passing a can of soda back and forth. God, these guys have been around each other too long—they eat each other’s food, wear each other’s clothes—it’s a public health hazard in their dressing room.

“You ready for your debut?” Blaze asks, not taking his eyes off the stage.

I can’t help but lean a little in his direction, he’s warm and big, and I feel especially small and chilly right now. But I bluff my way through it. “Oh yeah. We’ve been rehearsing for months, I can’t wait to show everyone what we’ve got going on.”

He finally looks down at me, his eyes soft. “Well, I’ll try not to fuck up your new arrangements too badly. There’s no way it’s going to sound as good as it would have with Mike here, but we’ll put on a good show.”

I kind of can’t believe he admitted that he can’t do what Mike would have if he were here. And it’s no knock against Blaze, just the fact that he hasn’t been there for all of those months of rehearsals.

I look around at the stagehands hustling and bustling around us. No one seems to be paying much attention, and the guys are still occupied onstage. I spin so that I’m facing Blaze, my back to the stage. “I wanted to thank you,” I say, my voice low.

He raises an eyebrow at me, giving no other reaction at all.

“For helping us tonight. For helping me have my debut.”

He doesn’t move a muscle, the twitch of his lips the only indication that he’s engaged in a conversation with me at all. His eyes shift back and forth between the stage and my face.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “You can thank me by smiling while you’re out there. I do love to see you smile, short stack.”

My heart skips a beat in my chest and I take a deep breath.

“I wish things were different, Blaze.” I reach out and briefly touch his arm, his breath hitches for a split second and he gazes down at me.

“I know you do.” He pauses, his muscles tense like he’s a big cat about to pounce on unsuspecting prey. “But your career’s more important than that. It’s more important than anything I could give you.” Then before I can respond he steps past me and strides onstage just as the stage manager announces it’s time to take our marks, five minutes to showtime.

I look at him out there, tuning up his guitar, saying a few curt words to Joss, and I wish with all my heart that things could be different, because I have a feeling a chance with Blaze Davis is a once in a lifetime experience, and I’ve just missed it.

* * *

W
e’re
three songs in when I finally start to relax. Everything is going fine, but I know I’ve been stiff, lifeless. Colin’s been hanging out next to me doing his goofy thing, sticking his tongue out at me, making faces. It’s helped some, but I need to step it up a notch or my job with Lush is going to be short-lived.

As Colin moves off to jam with Walsh during a big drum section, I see Blaze sidle my direction. I’m at keyboards so, like Walsh with his drums, I can’t move around the stage. Joss is generally on the other side, and usually Mike is too, but Blaze has been doing his own thing. He doesn’t have the rapport with Joss that Mike does obviously, but he’s entertaining enough on his own that it’s fine.

He gets to me and stands behind me. He’s so much taller than I am that everyone can still see him clearly. He leans forward as Walsh slams out a long drum solo and runs his lips up the column of my neck. “Let’s give them a show, short stack,” he murmurs when his lips reach my ear. I feel my nipples harden and I know I’m blushing, but I can’t help but grin. He doesn’t get his bad boy reputation from nowhere after all.

Before I know what’s going on, he’s flipped his guitar strap off and slid the neck under my arms as I play the keyboard. He then wraps his arms around me to play his guitar, locking us in a prison of instruments and body parts. He does it right as a big guitar riff kicks in, and the whole band plus the audience turn to watch him play it. His head is next to mine, his mouth caressing my neck.

“Have you all met our new keyboardist?” Joss hollers at the audience, picking up on the opportunity Blaze has set up. I’m playing my chords, but I can’t help but giggle as Blaze keeps hamming it up. I know that from the audience it looks like he’s playing my boobs, and they’re shrieking and cheering like crazy.

“I think Blaze has met Tully,” Joss continues. “What do you think?”

The audience screams louder. It’s deafening now.

“Hey Blaze,” Joss calls out as Walsh keeps up the pumping drum beats that are anchoring this improv we’re all doing now. “What do you think of Tully?”

Blaze lifts his head from my neck lazily and looks out at the audience. “I think she’s on fucking fire,” he rumbles into my mic.

“How about the rest of you?” Joss asks the audience. “Is she hot or what?”

I can hear the men in the audience shout out their agreement and suddenly Blaze has pulled away from me and he’s moving into a quieter section of the song. He winks at me and I know that this is my moment. I need to shine now, they’re all waiting.

Walsh backs down the drums, growing quieter, Joss nods at me and I hear Colin say, “Show em what you’ve got, Tully.”

I launch into a keyboard solo and I feel the music rush through me. My skin is hot from the lights and Blaze’s touch, my heart is beating fast, and I can feel the roll of energy from the crowd. It’s like I’ve just taken a hit of something really powerful. I’ve had the same rush plenty of times onstage, but never this strong. I’m nearly bowled over by the force of it.

I pound the keys as I shimmy and shake, the rush coursing through me like pure energy. “San Diego!” I yell. “My name’s Tully, and I. Am. Lush!” I raise a hand in the air as I put the final flourish on the solo and the guys kick back in. The audience is whipped into a total frenzy at this point, and Joss looks at me and gives me one of his famous smiles. He’s known for that smile, and the only thing that feels better is the grin that Blaze flashes at me when I turn to look the other way at him. He nods and rips into the finale of the song and I know that I did it. I just aced my debut with Lush.

I think I may have finally found my place in the world. Here with these guys, playing this music is the most at home I’ve ever felt. I think I’m in love with being a rock star.

* * *

J
ames does
me proud after the show. He shows up backstage already loaded, and proceeds to paw Jeanette like she’s a porn star, insult me in front of the other musicians, and generally act like a total douche. By the time I get back on board the bus to move on to L.A. I’m wiped in that way that only dealing with my family can achieve. Which is why I almost don’t answer my phone when I see my mother’s name on the caller ID. But I know if I don’t answer she’ll only keep calling, so I bite my lip as I crawl onto the bunk I’ll be sleeping in, shut the curtain that closes it off from the passageway, and swipe the screen.

“Hi Mom.”

“Tully? Is that you?”

Sigh. “Yes, Mom. It’s me.”

“Are you done with your concert?”

“Yes. Finished about an hour ago.”

“Oh good! Did you see your brother after?”

Unfortunately. “Yeah. He came backstage for a bit.”

“And did Jeanette seem like she liked it? He was really hoping that she’d be impressed.”

In the back of my mind I notice that my mother has yet to ask me how my performance was. “I’m not really sure, Mom. He was pretty loaded by the time I saw him. I know that’s been an issue between them.”

My mother sighs. She’s been married to my heavy drinking father for thirty-some years, so she’s maybe not the best person to talk to about a relationship with a drunk.

“Well, I bet she loved seeing all those rock stars up close. Did you get her some of their autographs?”

I pick up the Rock Steady magazine that I grabbed at a supermarket earlier in the day and idly flip through it. “Yeah, she got to meet all the guys from my band—I think they gave her autographs too.”

“Oh good. Well, thank you for helping out your brother. I really think if he and Jeanette can get over this little hump we can look forward to a wedding in the next year.”

I reach the
Sex, Drugs and Your Favorite Rock Stars
page of the magazine and notice a picture of Blaze as I squint in the low light provided by the built-in lamp over the bunk. The photo is obviously not recent, Blaze’s hair is longer, but he’s with Dez and they’re walking out of a large brick mansion, going to a car waiting for them under a port au cocher. The caption reads,
Bandmate and BFF Dez Takimoto breaks Blaze Davis out of rehab
. That’s all there is. No explanation. No elaboration. It sounds dramatic, but what does it mean? Did he literally bust him out, like Blaze escaped? Or did he just give him a ride home when it was time to check out?