Fallen for Rock (30 page)

‘Oh
that.
’ I couldn’t help grinning. I gave my best nonchalant shrug. ‘Well, let’s just say, while you’ve been busy doing your job, I’ve been busy learning mine. It appears Harry works shifts here and at The Swan. We had a nice long chat there the other night. Very informative.’

‘Well, I never. You really are working the circuit.’ There was a tinge of admiration in Mike’s voice, and I felt a red glow of pride rise in my cheeks.

‘I’m only learning the ropes.’

‘Speed-climbing them, by the looks of it. First Iron Dave, now this. Wow. Hats off to you.’ Mike lifted his cap and gave a bow.

‘Stop it already, you fool.’ I poked him the ribs. ‘You’re gonna ruin my reputation.’

Mike laughed. Before he could say anything else, the lights went down and the show started. I had a brief Groundhog Day moment, having gone through so many of these occasions in the past three weeks, but I blinked it away and launched myself into the fun with Mike. Tonight, I wanted to see the band, too. I wanted to know what this hot new guitarist was all about. Mike had been talking about him for days. There was a lot of buzz around this genius, and Mike was anxious that somebody else might poach him before he could get a chance to do so.

We got drinks at the bar and leisurely elbowed our way to the stage. Blue Heart sounded great so far. Hard, fast sounds with plenty of depth. Good rhythm. Powerful vocals. Strong chords. A distinctive lead guitar. Some of the arpeggios overlaying the main tune were vaguely familiar, but I guessed that was in the nature of the style. On the other hand, some of the tunes seemed strangely familiar, but I put that down to them having that hook, that instant classic feel, and chalked it up to great song writing.

‘They’re great,’ I shouted at Mike when we had finally reached a good vantage spot near the front.

‘Told you,’ he agreed. ‘Look at the guitarist. See his fingers move? He’s awesome.’

Obediently, I looked at the guitarist. He wore frayed jeans, a loose-fitting long-sleeved shirt, and cowboy boots. I couldn’t make out his features because his head was bent forwards, bopping in time with the beat, and his long hair completely obscured his face. But musically, he certainly was awesome. Fast and in control. His classic black Gibson sounded divine in his hands. He had assumed a typical rock stance, his feet planted well apart, his knees bending slightly with the rhythm, his whole body living the music.

I felt myself irresistibly drawn to this man. He reminded me of someone—Mike, most probably—and inwardly I laughed at myself.
Emily Trenden, are you turning yourself into some kind of groupie after all?

Mike elbowed me sharply. ‘You’re drooling.’

‘I’m so not.’

‘You so are. But I don’t blame you, he’s fantastic. A fantastic player, I mean. If you like him too, ever so much the better. He’s gonna be a hit with the girls.’

I shook my head. ‘You’re incorrigible, Mike Loud.’

‘Practical,’ he countered.

I ‘tskd’ softly and let him be, giving myself up to the music once more. I felt at home, happy, relaxed.

And before I knew it, the guitarist launched into a solo. He struck down hard on a chord with his strumming hand and followed through on the movement by lifting it high in the air.
Fab move
, I thought.
You’re gorgeous.

As he stood there, holding the chord, fist extended, he threw back his head at last and stared out over the crowd as though he had spotted someone in the far distance. He let his gaze travel down, examining faces here and there, and our eyes connected.

At long last, my brain told me what my heart had known all along.

Nate
.

Chapter Forty-Six

I nearly fainted.

Nate.

Nate’s eyes lingered on mine for a second before moving on. There was no flash of recognition there at all. And why would there be? He wouldn’t expect me here. And I looked very different from the last time we had seen each other. Plus it would be hard for him to make out features from where he stood. I knew that for a fact because Mike had let me stand on stage one night, blinking into the lights and trying to make out anything beyond the wedges—the speakers—at the front of the stage.

No wonder the music had sounded familiar. I had heard some of it in my very own flat. Oh, if only I had bothered to come to his gigs and listen properly. He was good. No, scratch that. He was
extraordinary.

My head swam while I tried to process the situation. I had a weird buzzing in my ears, as though I were under water. My breathing was hard and ragged, and my heart sat right in my throat. My knees were shaking, and for a second, I feared that I would pass out. But I inhaled air in big gulps, the biggest I could manage, and gradually the sensation cleared.

Nate was here.

Nate was amazing.

Mike wanted Nate.

Mike would talk to Nate.

I would have to talk to Nate.

I would have to
talk
to Nate. With Mike there.

The potential for disaster was limitless. I wanted to run and hide. At the same time, I wanted to climb the stage and throw my arms around him.

‘Oh man, you really got it bad.’ Mike wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him so he could shout into my ear. ‘I’ll introduce you later, never fear.’

I bent my head back so I could look at Mike. He had no idea. Absolutely none. He was clueless. There was no mischief in his eyes, no malice, only pure pleasure that the guitarist should be such a hit. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words would come out. Helpless, I shrugged.

Mike laughed and let me go, liberating his hands so he could applaud the band. I swayed, forlorn. What the heck was I going to do?

A fresh wave of complications broke over me. What if Nate wouldn’t join Fallen For Rock because of me? What if I stood in the way of Mike’s dream?

He mustn’t know
, I resolved.
He mustn’t make the connection, at least not at first. I’ll tell Mike when we get home, and I’ll let him manage the situation. But Nate mustn’t know about me, not tonight.

My whole being screamed at being denied the chance I had been craving, but I knew it would be the right thing to do. It would be easy to stay out of Nate’s way. I would simply let Mike do his thing and disappear to the bar, perhaps even feign a headache and venture home before disaster could strike. No great shakes.

As for me… Well. If Mike did manage to get Nate on board, sooner or later, we would talk. I would get my chance. But Fallen For Rock was more important.

I ducked my head and retreated a few steps. The set would wrap up soon, and I needed to backtrack.

‘Hey.’ Mike grabbed my hand. ‘Where are you off to?’

‘Um.’ I looked at the stage, panic-stricken. ‘I… I need another drink. And the loo. I was just gonna…you know.’

‘Ah. For a second there, I thought you were running away. Don’t you want to meet your latest fantasy?’

I choked.
You have no idea
. ‘Yeah. Sure. Of course.’ I swallowed some more. ‘To be honest, I’m not feeling so great. I’ve got a headache coming on.’

Mike’s face fell. Oh dear, this was going to be harder than I thought.

‘Let me get to the bar and get a drink. You go do your thing. I’ll catch you both later, okay?’

‘Okay. You sure? If you’re not well, I…’

‘I’m sure,’ I interrupted. The set ended to rousing applause, and I had to shout at the top of my voice to make myself heard. ‘Go get him. I’ll see you in a minute.’

I extracted my hand from Mike’s and gave him a gentle shove in the right direction. Mike smiled and blew me a kiss. I smiled back, turned on my heels, and stalked off to the bar.

My instinct was to flee, but Mike would be hurt if I did. I would have to put in a little time at the bar before pulling my disappearing act.

I ordered a Diet Coke and installed myself on a bar stool, carefully keeping my back to the dance floor while I sipped at my drink. Even though my headache had been a pretext, I could actually feel a pulse throbbing behind my eyes. That meant a full-on migraine was threatening to engulf me, and I sighed. It would take days to get rid of it, if it did take hold. Salt and fat were required to ward it off, and quickly. On an impulse, I ordered a bowl of chips. If I got my fill of junk food, I might just be okay.

The chips took their sweet time, and I lost all track of how long I had been waiting. But at last they arrived, and I was dipping the first chip into my chilli ketchup when a hand appeared from behind me, snagged a chip, and tickled me in the ribs.

‘This is Emily,’ I heard Mike’s voice. It seemed to come from a long way away. ‘Emily, say hi to Nate, my new guitarist.’

God help me
.

I pivoted my bottom on the bar stool millimetre by millimetre. There was no getting away now. What would I do? Annoyingly, tears stung at the back of my eyes, and I blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. After a small eternity that lasted all of three seconds, I finally faced Mike. He had removed the moustache and sunglasses. And he was utterly oblivious to my inner turmoil. He wore a big, beaming smile that told me everything I needed to know. His new dream was within reach. As long as I didn’t shatter it.

I hadn’t yet looked at Nate. I didn’t dare to. Perhaps, if I avoided eye contact, he wouldn’t recognise me, and the whole thing would go away.

Mike helped himself to another chip. ‘Fancy you tucking into the junk food,’ he laughed. ‘So, now that I’ve got my two favourite people right here, let me introduce you properly.’

He waved his hands back and forth between me and Nate. I took a long pull of my drink and stared at the floor.

‘Emily, this is Nate Clarke, brand new guitarist for Fallen For Rock. Nate, this is Emily Trenden, my ace publicist and partner.’

His words hit me in the chest like an actual blow, and I coughed my Diet Coke all over the floor. Mike automatically patted me on the back, and in all the confusion, I forgot that I wasn’t supposed make eyes contact with Nate.

Nate stared at me in shock. At long last, recognition bloomed on his face. I could see it in his eyes and in the way his forehead lay in puppy dog folds. His thoughts were practically visible in big bubbles above his head.
Emily? This is Emily? And she’s with Mike Loud?

‘Business partner,’ I croaked, still half choking on my drink. Mike kept clapping my back, and the rhythmic impact punctuated my speech comically. ‘He-meant—business-partner.—Not-partner-partner.—Just—business.’

‘You okay?’ Mike finally asked me, concerned. Nate didn’t say anything. He looked a little pale.

‘Tell him,’ I insisted, completely ignoring Mike’s question. ‘Tell him that we’re only business partners.’

‘We’re only business partners,’ Mike offered obligingly. ‘Emily is my publicist, and a fabulous one at that. I don’t know why I planted that “partner” joke. I know she’s got the hots for you. She was practically drooling when she saw you on stage. I guess I was trying to rile her. Sorry. Bad form.’

Nate’s face went a whiter shade of pale. If it were possible for a living being to be translucent, then that was what he turned. As for me, I very nearly died. Mike was so high on his happy cloud, he still didn’t notice anything awkward.

At last, Nate spoke. ‘Emily.’

Just the one word, and it was laden with a universe of meaning. But at least, he had said something, and he hadn’t run away.

‘Nate,’ I replied.

Nate subtly shook his head. ‘Emily,’ he repeated.

Mike looked from me to Nate and back again like a spectator at a tennis match. ‘You okay, guys? Do you know each other or something?’

I snorted. How was it possible that he hadn’t made the connection? I would have to spell it out.

‘Mike, for a musical genius, you’re being exceptionally dense. This is Nate.’

Mike’s mouth hung open. ‘Nate?’

‘Yes, Nate.’

‘What, Nate?
The
Nate?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Yes,
the
Nate.’

The penny dropped. Mike swallowed hard and bit his lip. For a moment, he sported a mask of pure horror. Horror at what, I couldn’t fathom. That Nate should be Nate? That everything might fall apart?

And he rallied. He gave me a surreptitious smile and continued with his dummy act.

‘
The
Nate?’ he repeated, sounding exaggeratedly incredulous. ‘The one who you’ve been crying about?’

Nate, who had almost turned away, stopped in his tracks. Mike ploughed on. ‘The one that you’ve called a million times? The one that we tried to go and see the other morning after he’d been to your flat at night and missed you? The one that you’ve been desperately wanting to apologise to?’ Mike’s voice rose with every question, climaxing in on his coup de grace. ‘The one that you
love? That
Nate?’

I suppressed a giggle. Trust Mike to make good. Nate stood stock still.

‘Yes,’ I enunciated carefully. ‘
That
Nate.’

Nate didn’t move. Mike waited for a few seconds, but still no reaction was forthcoming. Nate’s lips were slightly parted, as though he was thinking about speaking, but he remained silent. Eventually, Mike carried on.

‘The Nate you love, yes? I want to be sure I’ve got this straight.’

‘Yes. The Nate I love,’ I repeated and took up the baton. ‘Even though I kicked him out, foolish me, and even though I hadn’t a clue what I was doing. This is Nate.’

‘Wow.’ Mike let himself sink on a nearby stool. ‘Wow.’

Nate and I faced each other awkwardly. I was still perched on my bar stool, and he stood opposite me. A little colour had returned to his face, and the look in his eyes was a little less hostile.

‘The Nate you love?’ His voice was a quizzical whisper.