Dare (The Dare Trilogy) (16 page)

“I suppose you’re right,” Tony said with a sigh. “How we ever manage to make it from one day to the next without your genius to guide us is a constant source of amazement to me.” He leaned forward to place his head between Dianne’s and Cam’s. “And do you have any other talents, young lady?” he asked. “I mean, any that don’t involve this fella’s gigantic cock, and all that. Though come to think of it, if I don’t get laid soon, I probably wouldn’t mind looking in on those
sessions if you know what I mean.”

Dianne blushed at this, but Cam told him: “She’s got a good voice. She thinks I’m not listening, when she’s in the shower or something like that, but I tell you
—she can really belt it out.”

“Can she indeed...” Tony mused. Turning his face towards Dianne’s, he continued: “So, come on. Let’s hear a bit while we wind our boring way along the autobahn.”

She shook her head, suddenly embarrassed.

“Ah, go on with you, love,” Tony needled. “No need to be shy. You’re among friends here. Well, except for Dan, but he doesn’t count, and if you don’t start singing that just means we have to keep listening to his bucket full of misery.”

“She’s just full of shit,” Dan shouted out. “Don’t even know why we’re giving her the time of day.”

That set off a volcano inside Dianne. For a few seconds she seethed and then, without warning, opened her mouth, filling the van with a soulful voice that was deeper than her young years would lead any onlooker to expect: “You should be stronger than me, you been here seven years longer than me.”

As she sang, letting her voice fill her chest before it burst into the air around her, so the rest of the van became quiet. She didn’t dare remove her eyes from the road, but she could feel the approbation of the rest of the group. Even Dan said nothing as she sang, and her eyebrows arched in satisfaction as she completed the song, sure she had deafened her antagonist into submission.

She was wrong. “What the fuck was that soul shit?” was all he asked when she had finished.

“Amy Winehouse, man,” she heard Tony tell him. “Where the hell have you been the past decade?”

“Another stupid fucking ho’
—deserved everything she got coming to her.”

Dianne’s teeth ground together in anger, but Cam reached across and returned the consolation she had earlier offered him, placing one large, warm hand across hers on the steering wheel.

“Ignore that arrogant little gobshite,” Tony said to her quietly. “You’ve got a good voice, love. Pretty fucking awesome, really.”

The gig in Hanover was, on the whole, as uneventful as Hanover itself. Black Ark played competently, though Dianne could see that fatigue was beginning to set in with the group after gruelling days travelling, and though the rest of the audience wasn’t aware, she knew that Cam had been struggling with the rest of the group who complained about the rather poor state of the hotel where they were staying.

Optima, on the other hand, gave a performance that
—if not quite as brilliant as their one in Paris—nonetheless left the rest of the crowd very happy. This seemed to irritate the rest of Black Ark even more. “We could play like that every night,” she had overheard Dan grumble, “if we had all the fucking perks they did.”

After the gig, Darius had invited them all to the hotel where Optima was staying, a much plusher affair than that which had been arranged for Black Ark, but Cam had done his level best to avoid the lead singer and even his own friend, Johnny. Although he refused to talk about it, Dianne guessed that he was feeling resentful about how they were being used on the tour, and even Tony was beginning to ask questions about how much
—and even when—they were going to be paid.

Although she had a niggling desire to go back to the hotel with Optima and see behind the scenes, fatigue and weariness was beginning to take its toll on Dianne as well. In any case, after a week in Cam’s company she was starting to have strong feelings towards the young singer-guitarist. He needed a rest and this was an opportunity for her to be there for him. Their lovemaking
that night lacked some of the passion and frenzy of previous encounters, but as he lay in her arms afterwards she felt a warm glow replacing the slight bitterness she had experienced before as she stroked his hair, his head resting on her shoulder as he slept.

When they woke the next morning and went downstairs to pack up the van, she was surprised to see Darius himself waiting outside the hotel. She and Cam were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, casually attired as usual for the journey ahead, but it seemed that Darius did not like to appear out of character even at this hour in the morning. He was dressed in tight black leather trousers and a billowing white shirt, his face covered in powdery makeup that made him appear a cross between a clown and a necromancer. She still couldn’t quite make the leap between how charismatic he appeared on stage and how foolish when he was away from the audience. She was, however, even more surprised at how alert he looked: although she said nothing of it to Cam, her imagination had run wild conceiving the various drug-fuelled orgies that she believed Optima engaged in each night, but this morning Darius was as fresh as a proverbial daisy.

As she and Cam emerged, blinking into the sunlight, Darius smiled at her and raised one eyebrow appreciatively. “Well, well,” he said, coming forward and halting a couple of feet away from her. “Don’t you look fantastic this morning. I can see why Cam keeps you hidden away.”

Cam, who had been carrying a suitcase towards the van, could not repress a scowl at this and, catching sight of him, Darius said dismissively: “It’s okay, lover boy. You can carry on loading the van.”

Something about his tone irritated Dianne. “Don’t you have things to do?” she asked. Darius, however, missed the particular sharpness in her voice. “Oh, I have people to do that for me,” he replied, waving a hand.

“In any case,” he continued, now coming forward another step and taking her hand in a way that suggested he would not tolerate
—nor even expected—refusal, “I’m here to offer you a chance to stop slumming it with the little people. I thought you’d enjoy the opportunity, better still, the privilege, of seeing how Optima tours in style.”

Dianne was confused and, for a second, she grew hot and flustered. What was most unsettling was the fact that while she had no desire to be separated from Cam, part of her leapt at the opportunity to get close to one of her favourite bands. Darius Optimus may have been a complete ass, but Optima was still very dear to her.

“My, how beautiful you look when you blush,” Darius said to her very quietly. “As pretty as an English rose, and that’s no mistake.” She felt strangely lightheaded at this, but his next comment broke the spell instantly. “So, it’s decided then. Get your bag and come with me.”

His offhand manner, as though he had just appropriated a piece of furniture, annoyed her and, as he began to pull her along, she dug in her heels.

“No,” she said.

This brought him up short, and she felt Cam moving beside her, towering above and slightly behind her shoulder protectively.

“What?” Darius asked, unable to comprehend what he had just heard. “What do you mean, no?”

Realising that she was treading on dangerous ground, that Darius’s anger could have serious consequences for the rest of Black Ark, Dianne’s bravado crumbled. “I mean... I just want... I’d just like to stay with Cam, that’s all.”

Releasing her hand, Darius stared at her for a moment in disbelief before his eyes shifted towards Cam. His face displayed conflicting emotions—anger, peevishness and also a little fear, Dianne thought—as he looked at the taller, broad-shouldered man whose tattoos on his well-muscled arms looked slightly intimidating. At last he seemed to come to a conclusion and shrugged.

“Okay. Bring lover boy along too. We leave in half an hour. Don’t be late.”

Tony and James began to mock Darius (after he was well out of earshot, Dianne noticed), but Dan was furious. “Great, so not only do we have to drag this...” he paused: whatever insult he had been about to throw at Dianne stuck in his throat as he considered the wisdom of rousing Cam’s anger. “Not only do we have to drag
her
along, but now she won’t even do any fucking driving.”

“You’ve had it easy, Dan,” Cam snapped back. Ignoring any further complaints from the bass player, he looked across to Tony. “You know where to go?”

The drummer nodded and winked at Dianne. “Have fun with the big boss man,” he told her cheekily.

Cam was quiet and wary as they walked the short distance to the hotel where Optima had been staying. Dianne, still struggling a little with her excitement and the awareness that this had placed Cam in a difficult position, kept her thoughts to herself as well.

“Thanks,” said Cam at last.

She jumped slightly at this, disturbed from the ideas that were circling round her head. “What for?” she asked.

“Bringing me along.”

“You don’t think I’d leave you behind, do you?”

He gave a wry smile at this. “Well, thanks anyway.”

The vehicle that would take Optima to Berlin was a mile away from the poor old White Ark, a large, luxury cruiser that seemed dedicated to the five members of the band and a few hangers on, with the roadies and other members of the crew making their separate way between gigs. As she climbed onto the top floor of the coach, Dianne caught sight of Elizabeth and couldn’t help but frown.

“Hi there,” Elizabeth said breezily and, seeing Cam behind Dianne, gave a knowing smirk. “Oh, I’m glad
you
decided to come along as well.”

The other woman stared with frank lust at Cam and Dianne felt her heart go tight inside her chest. Elizabeth was dressed in leather trousers like those on Darius, a black blouse
halfway open down her chest revealing her bony sternum and the slightest curve of breasts. While Dianne’s own fuller figure would normally have given her a sense of self-confidence in any kind of stand off, she had to admit that Darius’s companion was too damn elegant and beautiful to admit any easy kind of victory.

Cam grunted noncommittally as he and Dianne shuffled to the back of the bus. She recognised the other members of Optima, and she felt a jolt inside her when she saw Johnny at a table with two women, one on either side of him. He was bending down over the table and the two women
—girls really, and probably still teenagers—talked in a slightly bored fashion over his back. When he lifted up his head, his eyes looked somewhat glazed and it took him a few seconds to focus. One of the women next to him, a blond with slightly trashy makeup, bent forward to apply a rolled up note to the white powder he had been sniffing.

Seeing Cam, a broad grin spread across Johnny’s handsome face. “Cam, you old fucker!” he bellowed, standing and pushing the girl who was snorting coke to one side, making her spill powder and shout something at him in German. He ignored her and came out into the aisle of the bus, grabbing Cam in a huge bear hug. Although Cam was a couple of inches taller than the lead guitarist of Optima, they were of a similar build
—almost brothers in looks apart from their hair.

“Where you been keeping? I’ve hardly seen you on tour!” Johnny said, slapping Cam’s shoulders affectionately.

“Oh, you know, just doing this and that,” Cam replied. He half turned to introduce Dianne, but Johnny looked across at her and his smile became even broader.

“No fucking wonder you’ve been hiding away. I remember you
—it was in London, wasn’t it. Or was it Paris? Sorry, my brain’s fucked. Can’t even remember what day of the week it is. But hell! I can see why Cam wanted to keep you all to yourself.” As though suddenly remembering his manners, Johnny suddenly pushed forward his hand more formally, letting Dianne shake it. “I’m Johnny.”

The sheer good humour of the guitarist threw Dianne for a few seconds. “Dianne,” she mumbled, standing there like a moron as her hand was pumped up and down. “I love your music!” she gushed at last, immediately regretting that she sounded like a stupid teen fangirl.

“Ah,” Johnny replied, shrugging as he released her hand at last. “It’s better than working.” His voice was slightly more cracked than Cam’s, slightly hoarse, but he shared the same delicious Scottish accent.

“No, seriously,” Dianne continued. “I absolutely love your guitar playing
—you’re one of the best. No question.”

“Only one of the best?” Johnny asked with a cheeky twinkle in his eye.

“Don’t expect anything other than brutal honesty with this one,” Cam said. “She plays herself.”

“Is that so?” Johnny asked. “What, guitar?” When Dianne nodded embarrassedly, he continued: “You’ll have to let me hear you some time.”

No fear, Dianne thought to herself. There was no way she was going to show herself up in front of what she considered one of the best guitarists of all time. Fortunately, however, Johnny appeared to have the attention span of a particularly disorderly child. Turning back to the table, he gestured towards the two women and the lines of powder. “Want to share some with us?” The blonde girl scowled at this.

“No thanks,” Cam replied.

Johnny smiled at this and threw a mock punch into Cam’s stomach. “Come on, Cam! Live a little. You can’t carry that Presbyterian upbringing through life with you!”