“Oh.” She passed him again, and on the next pass, she added, “No.”
“Good, ‘cause I think you could do it.” He slowed up, letting the on-screen pace boat catch him, taking the opportunity to spend a fraction more time behind her—watching her.
She was sweating heavily too. A rivulet of moisture trickled down her arm. He shook his head to clear the kind of thoughts that didn’t belong in a public gym, or a public anywhere, but made him want to lick her, like she was flavoured ice.
“Do you work out here often?” he said, on the pass.
She shook her head. Tucked her chin down to avoid him. She had to have known he was checking her out. He had about as much subtlety as sunburn.
He brought the rower to a stop and released the handles. He was defeated on the field of flirting, but he was still genuinely interested in her. “What do you do to stay so fit?”
She pulled harder. She was well ahead of her onscreen pace boat. “I don’t get distracted.”
Crash and burn. “Good on you.” Jake released his feet from the stirrups and stood. He laughed at himself under a swipe of his towel. He’d had more practice pushing women away than reeling them in on the last tour. On most tours. And how it showed.
He dragged the towel across his face and chest again and watched the girl a moment. She was focussed, intent on the machine and her skin glowed with the effort. When he entered the weights area, it was with a spring in his step. Just watchi
ng her, even if she’d made it clear he was as annoying as gum under her shoe, made him feel warm inside and out.
He sat on a weight bench. He could still see her across the room. If she lifted her head she’d be able to see him in the mirror. He wondered if she’d bother. He lay under a set of weights and tried to concentrate on bench pressing instead of pressing something else entirely. Like his hands against her hips, or his lips against—
He groaned out loud, which would’ve been more embarrassing if half the other occupants of the weights area weren’t grunting and groaning over dumbbells. He was the dumbbell. She didn’t even know he existed.
He grunted again, but this time it was because his chest was burning and his arms felt boneless from the number of reps he’d done. If he’d been hot before, he was a furnace now. He sat and dragged his towel over the back of his neck and when he lifted his eyes he met hers. It wasn’t an accidental glance, but she dropped her head the minute he caught her out.
So she could get distracted.
The workout left Jake feeling totally energised. Tomorrow he’d be sore, but right now he was ready for anything. And anything might happen in his first meeting with Ice Queen’s management.
He was showered, changed, and waiting in the hotel’s outdoor terrace café. This meeting would establish the band’s expectations and give him a feel for what they’d be like to work with. Sometimes the talent showed up at pre-production meetings, but mostly they sent their management. Jake expected to meet with the executive producer and stage manager, Jonas Franklin.
He knew Franklin by reputation. He was considered a genius EP. Jake was keen to see if the publicity matched the man. Ten past the hour and he was wondering if Jonas had gotten lost, but then it was hard to get lost in Adelaide. Twenty past the hour and he was feeling like his date was going to stand him up.
Then a shadow fell across the table and a deep voice said, “Jake Reed?”
Jake looked up to see Rand Mainline blocking the sun, and leapt to his feet. “Yes, hi, I’m Jake.”
“Good to meet you, Jake, I’m Rand.” The rock star offered his hand to shake. He wore black denim and a Grateful Dead t-shirt featuring the iconic Deadhead skull in a top hat. “This is my sister, Rielle.” They shook. Rand’s grip firm and steady. Jake shifted to offer his hand to Rielle, but she waved him off.
Next to the lanky Rand, Rielle was fairy tiny with an outrageous mop of multicoloured hair in red, gold and black, snaking over her shoulders and down her back. She wore a skin tight black singlet that finished well above her pierced belly button and showed off the arrowed muscle of her abs. Now that was hot.
“Jake, we seem to have lost our EP. He’s around somewhere, but we’re not sure where. I thought we’d come and introduce ourselves.” Rand took a seat, and gestured for Jake to do the same. Rielle slumped into a chair and folded her arms. Her mouth was a tight line. She had fishnets on. They had holes in them here and there. Jake sat across from her and wondered if the crossed leg she was kicking would connect with his knees. Her boots weren’t steel cap, but not far off. She had ‘could do you damage’ written all over her.
She ignored him and looked at Rand. “I knew there was something off about Jonas on the plane. I’ll fire his ass if he so much as looks like he’s been high in the last six hours.” She pulled off her sunglasses and turned unnatural violet coloured eyes on Jake. “You look like a nice guy, fit and healthy, but you’d better be clean and sober or I’ll fire your ass as well.”
Jake grinned. She was as feisty as her hair colour and pint sized but—like that blonde in the gym—a little powerhouse, or rather a powder keg. With a short fuse. “I run a professional team. You won’t have any cause to complain.”
She grunted and tapped bright lime green fingernails that matched the jewel in her nose, on the tabletop. One of her fingers was tattooed. She had another tattoo on the inside of her wrist.
“Jake, please forgive my sister. She has no manners. She was raised poorly by itinerant fruit pickers,” said Rand. He might’ve been saying mangoes are good this season; there was no trace of irony in his voice—a mongrel mix of Australian and American accents.
“Wolves, you forgot the wolves,” said Rielle, with an accent that gave no hint to her origin, but a bite, with perfectly formed white teeth, that could’ve severed a finger.
“I always forget the wolves.” Rand sighed.
Jake laughed. According to rock history, the Mainlines were born in Sydney, but moved to the US after their mum was killed in a car accident. Two years later their dad, a classical musician, was dead from cancer. They raised themselves, starting their music careers at eighteen and sixteen. Rielle was still a schoolgirl when they had their first hit single. That was before they formed the band, before they became music icons.
“Please don’t laugh, it only encourages her,” said Rand.