Pure Iron (23 page)

Davis took up a quick beat, launching Jack’s greeting. He thanked everyone for attending and then introduced the band members. When he got to Mick, a woman shouted above the din, “I want to have your baby!”

His mouth stretching into a brilliant smile, Jack shouted into the microphone, “Ladies, you’ll have to settle for Davis, Angelo, Kris, or me.” The wild screaming and cheers got louder with each name he rattled off. “Because Mick Hendriksen got married!”

Applause thundered inside the auditorium. Mick glanced toward the private boxes, seeking a glimpse of tawny hair and light blue dress. Sonia caught his gaze and waved. He smiled and struck an edgy chord to signal the first song of the set, a hard, rocking number that had people dancing in their seats. Angelo’s wailing saxophone segued into the next song. As their charismatic spokesman, Jack kept up a witty patter between tunes, informing the audience about special influences and circumstances associated with each song.

The crowd of mostly teenagers to mature adults in their thirties cheered and clapped with unbridled enthusiasm. Lustful sighs could be heard when Mick set down his guitar and pulled out his violin. He drew the bow across the strings and the audience grew quiet.

“I know a violin isn’t quite what you’d expect in rock band, but it adds depth and piquancy,” he explained. “We’re introducing a few new numbers to you here tonight and I hope you’ll like them. We’ll be including them on our next album.”

He drew the bow across the strings again, launching into one of the new songs he’d written under the influence of affection for his wife. Angelo swapped out his saxophone for a wooden flute and Kris exchanged his bass guitar for an acoustic. Davis took up a soft beat on the drums and Jack’s voice shifted from edgy vocals to soft crooning as the lyrics poured from his mouth like cool, sweet wine.

They followed the soulful ballad with two high energy songs from their last album. Then another of the new songs drew sighs, particularly from the female contingent. They played for a solid two hours, sweat soaking their bodies, until they came to the last song.

“This one is for the love of my life, my wife, Sonia,” Mick said with an unaccustomed softness to his usual dangerous growl. Again he lift the violin to his chin. A slightly mournful ripple of notes from Angelo’s wooden flute floated on the air. Then the violin wept beautiful music that brought tears to myriad eyes and longing to many hearts. But the song wasn’t said; it held a delicate joy, a subtle spirituality at odds with the throbbing, sexual beat of the band’s usual music.

The crowd sat in absolute silence when the last notes faded. The five men of Iron Falcon bowed, the spotlights dimmed, and the curtain descended.

“”Wow,” the announcer commented somewhat breathlessly. “That was unexpected and totally incredible.” He paused to take a somewhat shaky breath, then continued: “Please give a hand to Iron Falcon. Long may they soar!”

The audience erupted in deafening applause and cheers with shouts of “Encore! Encore!”

Roadies rushed forward to clear the stage and pack away instruments as the five men walked back to the green room where fans with backstage passes eagerly waited. They cheered and called out to their favorite players and waved tickets and whatever else they had asking for autographs. Sonia stood several yards away, looking uncomfortable and nervous.

Mick split off from the group and made a beeline for her. The fans buzzed with speculation, not having noticed the woman standing quietly apart from them. He held his hand out to her and said, “For you, babe. It’s all for you now.”

The others entered the green room to avail themselves of the myriad beverages and snacks, needing to drown the after-concert jitters with carbohydrates and calories. Kris snagged one of the groupies and drew her down to his lap. She shrieked and laughed and wiggled her bottom against his crotch. With an utter lack of self-consciousness, he palmed one bouncing breast as he tilted an icy beer to his mouth. Talk quickly escalated into rowdy loudness and devolved into near frenzied carnality. Knowing how the after concert partying would go, Mick had already led Sonia away.

There were some aspects of the rock-and-roll lifestyle from which Mick wanted to protect her.

“You guys were absolutely incredible,” Sonia complimented with a brilliant smile as Mick drove them back to the condo. “I mean, you’re good when you’re practicing on the back patio, but on stage … wow, just wow. Not only is the music fantastic, but the energy you radiate, the sensuality. I’m in absolute awe.”

Still thrumming with energy, Mick grinned at her.

She grinned back at him. “I think I’m going to have to create a dish that pays homage to that experience. It’ll have hot peppers in it for sure.”

The car entered the garage. A minute later they were in the living room, pulling at each other’s clothes. Unable to wait, Mick lifted Sonia and pressed her against the wall while he thrust up into her silky, wet heat.

Climax rushed upon them, giving them a short reprieve, just long enough to move to the shower for the next round. Rounds three and four took place in bed. Much later as Mick snored quietly beside her, Sonia wondered how he’d cope with the excess energy and sensuality that infused him after a performance when he went on tour. And she worried.

Iron Falcon played every other night that week to a sold-out house each time. Caesar’s Entertainment Corporation used their considerable clout to schedule interviews with celebrity-focused magazines and television shows. Sonia immediately nixed a suggestion that such interviews be held in the new home she shared with Mick.

“No, our home is not a TV studio,” she said. “Caesars will have plenty of meeting rooms from which to choose.”

Kristof and Angelo raised their eyebrows in silent surprise at her adamancy. Jack attempted to persuade her to agree, but she would not be swayed.

In response to the media blitz, Jay traveled from his Los Angeles office to manage things before the band did something stupid. He accompanied them to every interview and badgered questions from journalists
before
the interviews so that the band members could prepare thoughtful answers devoid of profanity.

“This is supposed to be a candid interview,” one television journalist complained.

“Iron Falcon is my client and I’m not going to allow you to make them look like idiots just so you can boost your Nielsen ratings,” Jay responded in an acid tone as he scanned the list of questions and scratched through those he deemed inappropriate.

The journalist had the gall to look affronted.

“We want to get an interview with Mick’s wife,” the journalist said, flashing an unnaturally white smile.

“She’s off limits,” Jay replied.

“Maybe she’d like to be interviewed,” the journalist suggested.

“She doesn’t. Leave her be. She’s not interesting.”

“Of course, she is. People, especially Iron Falcon fans, want to know the woman who was fascinating enough to catch playboy Mick Hendriksen.”

Jay leveled his gimlet glare at the media hound and said in an icy tone, “Mick’s wife is a nice young woman whose only value to the media is that she married a rock star. You will leave her alone.”

The journalist shrugged and let the matter drop, but Jay wasn’t fooled. He’d dealt with the paparazzi for a long time. The hint of a story was like a drop of blood in the water to a shiver of sharks. It was only a matter of time before they attacked.

“Let me speak to Sonia,” Jay requested during one of his meetings with the band, that one taking place in the Hendriksens’ living room.

“Why?” Mick asked suspiciously, wanting to protect his wife from the more unsavory aspects of fame.

Jay cast him a hard glance and said, “I’m trying to protect her, too, Mick.”

Mick’s shoulders drooped a little and he relented. “Okay.” He rose from the chair to fetch Sonia, rather than just shout her name to summon her. The other band members stared after him, their expressions filled with amazement and disbelief.

He found her in the spare bedroom curled up in a chair with a novel. She looked up from the book and smiled to welcome his presence.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted her and bent over to brush his lips over hers. “Jay wants to talk to you. Will you come?”

She blinked, but acquiesced. “Sure. What’s this about?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s probably going to get ugly.”

She set the book aside and took his hand. He drew her to her feet and escorted her to the living room where he sat back down in the vacated chair and pulled her onto his lap. His arms settled loosely around her, but she was not deceived. He’d tighten his hold and hold her there until he consented to release her … and there would be little she could do about it. Mick had demonstrated his superior strength on multiple occasions, usually to her immense pleasure.

“Hello, Jay,” she greeted the agent. “Mick says you want to speak with me.”

“Hello, Sonia,” the agent said with a cordial nod. Without further preamble, he asked, “When do you start your new job?”

“Monday.”

“Do they know who you are?”

“My boss, Chef Joseph Kilrook, does,” she answered candidly. “But I don’t think it matters to him, as he’s famous in his own right.”

“What about your coworkers?”

“I haven’t really met them.”

“Do you think Kilrook will be capitalizing on having the wife of a rock star in his kitchen to boost his restaurant business?”

She cocked her head to the side and answered coolly, “No. As I said, he’s a celebrity. He doesn’t need any boost from my association with Mick.”

Jay nodded, making notes the old fashioned way—with pen and paper. “All right,” he conceded. “I’ll get in touch with Kilrook and put in a request to keep your relationship with Mick quiet. That should help deter the paparazzi from dogging your every step.”

She pursed her lips, mulling that over, and nodded. “It probably would be best if you approached him as Mick’s agent, not as someone acting on my behalf.”

Jay nodded. Mick relaxed, satisfied that that the band’s agent was looking out for his wife, too. He released her with a peck on the cheek. She returned to the other room and her book. Jay turned his attention to Jack and said, “There’s a new record label expressing interest in signing on Iron Falcon.”

“What are they offering?” Jack asked.

“Nothing yet,” Jay answered. “But I wanted you to know that another label is interested.”

“Which one?” Davis inquired.

“Warner.”

A low whistle escaped Angelo, who said, “That’s running with the big dogs. Those guys don’t mess around.”

“You’d likely lose some creative control,” Jay warned. “But they’ve got major funds to make sure you get the big venues for concerts and the impressive light shows and special effects.”

Davis shrugged his massive shoulders and said in his quiet, thoughtful way, “I don’t think we need lots of fancy special effects. They detract from the music.”

Angelo nodded and said, “I agree. All that flash and dazzle is distracting. People come to hear us play, not to see fireworks.”

“I’m more worried about losing creative control,” Mick opined. “It wouldn’t be right to have some suit tell us what we can and cannot play.”

Jack listened and said to Jay, “Tell them thanks, but no thanks.”

Jay pursed his lips and said, “Warner will catapult you to the big leagues, guys. You’ll be performing on a par with legends like the Eagles and the Rolling Stones.”

“We’ll get there,” Mick said with subdued confidence. “It will just take a little longer doing it our way.”

Jay threw out his last lure and named the figure the record label offered, not mentioning the hefty boost he’d get in commissions. Kristof’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Jack whistled. Angelo’s jaw dropped. Mick and Davis shrugged.

“That’s a hell of a lot of money,” Angelo said in hoarse awe.

“They’ll turn us into Hanson,” Mick warned.

Angelo cringed. Creative control was important. Jay excused himself to let the band members discuss the offer privately. After a few minutes, they came to a consensus that it would probably be best to see the contract and have an attorney review it. They said as much to Jay, who nodded, grateful they were not automatically rejecting the opportunity. Oh, they probably would, but at least it wouldn’t be without being fully informed.

As he left he kissed those elusive millions good-bye and admitted to himself that he respected the group for their commitment to their music. Those latest songs were really amazing. Great stuff.

The band members desultorily discussed other matters concerning their upcoming tour. Jay had left them each with a copy of the grueling itinerary that would cross four continents and several Pacific Rim islands. They’d average eight cities a month—two cities a week.

They had a precious few days interspersed with the myriad performance locations in which to sightsee or rest. Mick checked those “R&R” days against the calendar to calculate when Sonia could fly out to visit him. Few opportunities presented themselves. The week in Seoul and the week in Naples offered the most likely opportunities for conjugal visits. The thought of going so long without sex made him feel twitchy.

“What’s wrong?” Davis asked perceptively.

“That’s a long time to spend away from Sonia,” Mick replied somberly, glancing from the itinerary to his friend.

“You’ll be tested,” Davis agreed.

“You’re actually going to abstain?” Jack asked with disbelief and astonishment. “Do you really think Sonia would expect that of you?”

“I know she does,” Mick replied, his tone both quiet and serious. “And I expect it of myself. I won’t break faith with her.”

Jack just gaped.

“How would you feel if she had an affair while you were gone?” Kris asked, eyes glinting speculatively.

“She wouldn’t,” Mick answered firmly.

“You don’t know that,” Kris pointed out reasonably. “You’re the one who introduced her to sex and she’s never been tested before. Maybe she’s not as strong as you think.”

“If anything, she’s stronger,” Mick insisted. “She’ll be faithful and expect me to show that same strength.”

“Man, I hope you’re right.”

“I hope he can keep his dick in his pants,” Angelo muttered. “Although, if he were discreet, I doubt she’d ever find out.”

“But I would know and that’s bad enough.”

“You all are depressing the hell out of me,” Jack said. He focused his attention on Mick. “Hey, man, we’ll help you, won’t we, guys? Sonia’s too good to let get away because we didn’t stop him from being a philandering jackass.”

“Oooh, ‘philandering,’” Angelo teased. “Jack’s using big words.”

Jack reached out to cuff his buddy. “Shut up, you debauched Lilliputian.”

Angelo laughed, breaking the tense mood.

Sonia rejoined them and asked, “Guys, do you have time for supper?”

“If you’re cooking, absolutely,” Angelo replied with happy enthusiasm.

She looked at Mick, who nodded. With a smile, she promised them food in an hour. A moment later, they heard the clash of pots and utensils. Twenty minutes later, delicious aromas of chicken piccata filled the air. And just over thirty minutes past that, the five of them rushed to the table as soon as they heard that siren song, “Supper’s ready!”

Upon putting the melt-in-your-mouth food on their tongues, the men groaned sincere appreciation. Jack and Angelo both pleaded with her to marry them.

“Get your own women,” Mick said and stuffed another forkful of food into his mouth.

When every last crumb had been consumed and three of the band members still looked hungry—although how they could be, she had no idea—Sonia mentioned the leftover key lime cheesecake from the day before. Chair legs scraped the floor as Davis, Kris, and Jack leaped to their feet to fetch dessert plates and the leftover cheesecake.

“I’ll put coffee on,” Sonia said and braced her hands on the table to rise.

“Don’t bother, I’ll get it,” Kris offered.

Angelo protested, “Don’t touch that coffee pot, Kris. You only know how to brew sludge.” He winked at Sonia. “I’ll make coffee.”

Kris shrugged and returned to his seat while Angelo measured out the coffee.

Davis moaned around a mouthful of cheesecake and asked, “Is there anything you can’t make taste good?”

“Lutefisk,” she answered without missing a beat. “Nothing and nobody can make lutefisk taste good.”

“What is lutefisk?”

Kris laughed and replied, “You don’t want to know.”

Sonia just grinned and said, “Think of old fish. Now think of soap. Put the two together and,
voila
, you have lutefisk.”

Jack’s face twisted. “That’s disgusting.”

“Yep. Which is why I don’t make it.”

The conversation devolved into a “worst things ever eaten” rivalry, with no one quite being able to top lutefisk, although Davis’ description of chitlins and scrapple tied for a close second.

“Remind me never to eat soul food,” Jack muttered.

Kris glanced down at the bulky watch on his wrist and rose from the table. “Time to go, guys. We’ve got two shows tomorrow.”

The others rose, clearing dishes and quickly working together to tidy the kitchen. As they left, each thanked her politely for supper and kissed her cheek. Kris’ aim was a little off and he kissed the corner of her mouth.

But then, maybe his aim wasn’t off.

Mick’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on his friend. He drew Sonia into his arms and held her snugly against his body. Dipping his head to her neck, he smelled the faint, lingering scent of the other men from where they had embraced her. He wanted to growl and rip the clothes from her body and slather his scent all over her. That blatant and fierce possessiveness startled him. He nibbled at her neck, reveling in the soft, smooth skin. Sonia sighed and tilted her head to afford him better access. Her hands skimmed up and down his back, then down to cup his ass.

“You’ve got the sexiest butt I’ve ever seen on a man,” she murmured throatily as she kneaded that part of his anatomy.

Mick’s erection pressed painfully against the zipper of his pants.

“Bedroom. Now,” he ordered between kisses.