Beat (Life on Stage 2)

“Definitely not. Did you know your parents were rockstars?”

I laugh at the notion. “Definitely not. My dad was a total goofball.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s how Laney feels. I’m the uncle who lets her eat crap and go out in her pajamas. She jumps up and down when I enter a room, but it’s basically because I bribe her to think I’m cool.”

“Sounds more like she thinks you’re cool because she knows the real you.”

“Did you think your dad was cool?”

“Not until I was an adult. I remember this one time, I must have been about twelve, we were walking down the street and this woman ran up to him and asked him for his autograph. She whipped open her shirt, right there on the street, for him to sign her boob and she wasn’t wearing a bra.”

“What did your dad do?”

“He pulled her shirt closed and told her to have some respect for his daughter. I thought the woman had to have escaped from a mental institution to do that to my dad. I mean, he was just Dad.”

“You saw him for who he really was. Everyone else saw the image they wanted to see. The hard part of fame is remembering which expectation you need to live up to. It’s easier to do what the fans expect. Living up to the Laney standard is much harder.”

“Legions of women would be devastated if they knew your heart was already taken. Laney is a lucky girl.”

“I’m saving room for one more in there, don’t worry.” He winks. And all I can think is that that girl is damn lucky, and part of me wishes it was with a capital L.

Getting through Flynn singing is incredibly hard. Who knew the songs from Frozen could be so unbelievably sexy? The way his throat moves, the way his mouth caresses each syllable of the low, raspy sound that falls from his lips. I should be watching his posture, his breathing, the way his larynx forces out the words—but instead I’m focused on the beauty of his mouth and how the sound of his voice glides over my body, making it feel both warm and tingly at the same time. I’m lost when the song finishes, yet I haven’t really observed him yet.

“So. Give it to me straight. What am I doing wrong?”

Ummm…absolutely nothing from what I can see. Everything was perfect. Don’t change a thing. Shit. “Could you do it again? Maybe a different song, one you haven’t sung in a while. So the sounds are less familiar to your body. Sometimes that can give me a different view.” At least I make it sound like a real thing when the words come out.

He sings again, and this time I force myself to observe. “Hmm…your posture is great. Most people have a tendency to favor one side of their neck, which makes them tilt a bit when they speak, and it becomes magnified when they sing, which puts strain on the muscles around the vocal cords. Your alignment is perfect.”

“Thank you, it goes with the rest of my perfectness,” he says with a teasing arrogance that, from the little I know about him, I know isn’t real.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“You can’t now tell me I’m not perfect. I was already basking in the glow.”

“Actually, it was perfect…but almost a little too perfect. Which makes me think you don’t usually stand this way when you sing.”

“It isn’t the way I normally sing. On stage, I usually have a guitar over my shoulder. Even if I’m not playing it, it’s there.”

“Well, I need to see you holding your instrument to assess you fully, then.”

Flynn’s eyebrows quirk up and the dirty grin on his face is unmistakable.

“The guitar. I’d need to see you holding the guitar.”

“That’s a shame.” He shrugs, the playful smile still on his face. “But okay. It’s your call. Whatever instrument you want to see me hold is fine with me.”

“How big of you.”

“So now we’re talking about the other instrument again?”

I roll my eyes, although this conversation is having more of an effect on me than I let on.

It’s after six when we finish, yet it feels more like fifteen minutes and not two hours that have passed. “I have to run. I’m helping out Avery at Lucky’s tonight. She’s not having much success finding a waitress.”

“Maybe I’ll stop by tonight with some of the guys from the band. If that’s all right?”

“I’m sure Avery would be excited if you came. The place will be buzzing with In Like Flynn making an appearance.”

Flynn leans in to me, the scruff on his jaw rubbing against my cheek. “Isn’t Avery I want excited when I come.” He kisses my cheek and disappears, as if his words aren’t going to leave me flustered for hours.

Chapter Nine

Lucky—

Nine years earlier,

age sixteen

“You excited, princess?” Dad pops a square of the Hershey’s Special Dark we share every day into his mouth.

“I can’t wait. I haven’t seen her in six months.”

Dad’s face falters for a fraction of a second, but then he smiles. “I was talking about getting on stage this afternoon.”

“Oh. Yeah. That too, Dad.”

“You nervous?”

I’m not really sure if he’s asking about Mom or singing this time, so I give an answer that I think will satisfy him for both. “A little.” The truth is, I’m nervous about seeing Mom again. I’m not sure why. I wasn’t even nervous about singing on stage at Lucky’s for the first time, until Dad told me Mom was coming to watch. Then my palms started to sweat when I thought about performing—in front of Iris Nicks.

“You’re going to be great. You were born to be on a stage. I wish I had half the talent you do.” Dad kisses my forehead.

I’ve sung in front of crowds before. A few months ago, the school talent show was sold out when I sang—every seat filled with kids I’d have to see at school the next day, yet I didn’t hesitate when I walked out on stage. I remember standing behind the curtain, watching the Massey twins do their gymnastics routine while I waited for my turn. My eyes scanned the crowd, a feeling of anticipation beginning to creep up from the pit of my stomach as the audience roared with applause when the twins landed their final flips. I was next. Then, right before I got on stage, I caught sight of the man standing in the back corner of the audience. Arms folded, standing tall, a proud look on his smiling face. Dad. The announcer called my name and I took a deep breath and walked slowly to the center of the stage. The lights blinded my vision to everything below. But I still knew he was there. I sang my heart out as if he was the only one watching. Somehow, it was all I needed.

Today, Mom arrives a half hour before my scheduled show time. A flurry of activity surrounds her entrance, as it always does. She’s never alone. I watch from the corner of the room as she kisses Dad hello. On the lips. He smiles and rubs his hands up and down her arms. My parents definitely have a strange relationship. Half of my friends have parents that are divorced, but most of them can’t stand the sight of each other. Maybe it’s because my parents never married that their uncoupling when I was five was so much more harmonious.

Mom looks around the room and her smile brightens when her eyes land on me. She walks toward me with her arms open wide, and it takes every bit of my sixteen-year-old cool self not to run to her. Don’t get me wrong, I love living with my dad, I just wish I got to see Iris more.