The incredulity of her current situation suddenly kicked her heart rate into high gear. When had this become her life? A quick glance toward the glass waiting area made her life even more surreal. Steve Aimes was currently undressing her with his eyes, and he had something in his pants for her. How would she ever resist him?
On a cue from his staff, Bryant began speaking into the microphone. “With us now is the band you’ll be talking about tomorrow if you aren’t already talking about them today. They’re joining Exodus End on their world tour next month, and there’s a reason for that. We played you their latest
single a little earlier on Fast Tracks . . .”
They did?
“. . . and you, our loyal listeners, loved ‘Starlight.’ ”
They had?
Roux exchanged excited smiles with her sisters, barely able to stay on her stool with the nervous energy flowing through her body.
“I’m sure our listeners wish they could see you in person, because, wow! You look as good as you sound.”
Iona laughed, always completely at ease in the spotlight. “We’re not quite that good looking.”
“You in particular look familiar,” Bryant said to Iona. “Where might I have seen you before?”
Roux forced her face to remain neutral. Iona had used her middle name when she’d been a favorite contestant on the reality television show American Voice a few years ago. She worked hard—and now wore a lot of stage makeup—to keep the general public from realizing who she was.
“Do you frequent the Delancey after midnight?” Iona asked.
“Been there a time or two,” Bryant said. “A bit too goth for me.”
“No such thing,” Iona said, tonguing the corner of her black-painted lips as she stared him down. It did the trick; he turned his attention to Roux, who straightened as if her corset stays were attached to a released spring.
“You’re the keyboardist, correct?” Bryant asked her, his blue eyes flicking to the swell of her breasts before settling on her face.
“That would be me. Though I won’t be playing today.”
“Unfortunately, we weren’t able to get our hands on a piano in time, so, listeners, make sure you crank up the track as it was recorded, because that keyboard work is phenomenal.”
Roux flushed. She was glad someone in the business appreciated it.
Iona met the eyes of each of her bandmates in turn, making sure that everyone was ready to rock.
“We are Baroquen,” she said, “and this is a never before heard unplugged version of our latest single, ‘In Lights.’ ”
The intro sounded hollow without Roux’s keyboard, but Sage and Azura filled in beautifully enough that anyone who’d never heard the original version would get the general idea. Roux leaned in toward the microphone and sang one long note in a low sultry tone. Her voice was most often compared to Janis Joplin’s. Perhaps that was why she sang backup. She didn’t have a unique enough aperture to get the high, haunting quality that blessed Iona with pitch-perfect talent. Normally Roux didn’t mind singing backup, but because she didn’t have her keyboard to focus her attention on, she was very conscious that everyone—particularly Steve—was watching her sing. Or they were until Iona started the first verse. She didn’t have her bass guitar today, so she gave her voice even more power than usual. So much so that Roux was pretty sure that opera singers would be jealous. Out of the corner of her eye, Roux caught the look Azura and Sage exchanged as they strummed their guitars. Iona is such a show-off!
But Iona was used to holding the spotlight. She’d almost had a solo career—probably still could if her boyfriend pressed the issue—but she said she preferred being part of the group. You sure couldn’t tell that this morning. So when Roux’s part of the chorus came around, she belted out the words with everything she had.
A muffled whistle drew her attention to the observation booth, which apparently wasn’t completely soundproof. Steve had two fingers in his mouth, blowing whistles of appreciation while thrusting his opposite fist into the air like he was at some live concert. Roux licked her lips, unable to stop the little smile of pleasure that turned up the corners of her mouth. Steve gave Max a dirty look when he tried to shush him but switched to clapping instead of whistling. She couldn’t hear his applause over the music in the sound booth, but she imagined it was loud.
The crescendo built in the middle of the song, Roux’s voice and Iona’s no longer competing, but harmonizing, rising together on different octaves. At the onset of Sage’s subdued guitar solo—acoustic did not do it justice—Roux leaned away from the microphone and sucked in a deep breath to relieve her aching lungs. Iona squeezed her elbow and gave her a thumbs-up. She was always encouraging Roux to concentrate more on her singing, but at heart Roux was a pianist and always would be. And though Iona played bass guitar, at heart she was a singer. She was a good bassist, but it was more of an afterthought for her rather than a focus. Maybe that was why the two of them worked so well together; they weren’t competitive. Azura took the second half of the solo—her style more frenzied than Sage’s wail—and it was obvious the same could not be said about their two guitarists. They were forever in competition with each other, and it made them both strive for a higher level.
Roux’s smile spread as pride suddenly grabbed hold of her. The five of them had come so far from where they’d begun, and though they had the occasional disagreement, they each championed the others. It was times like these that Roux felt truly blessed for having this surrogate family full of talented and supportive women.
Lost in her happy thoughts, Roux almost missed her cue at the end of Azura’s solo. She’d performed this song enough that the words came automatically, so while her sound started off a bit weak, she quickly ramped up her tone, her fingers playing imaginary keys across her knees.
It would be four weeks before their first opening show at the Download Festival in England. She couldn’t wait to perform in front of a live audience. This studio performance was fun but couldn’t compare to dozens of screaming fans spurring her on. Of course, she seemed to have picked up at least one screaming fan today. She covered her mic with one hand and laughed aloud at Steve’s over-the-top cheering in the observation booth. He was literally leaping off the floor in his enthusiasm. She wondered if he’d still feel that level of enthusiasm once he heard the song with her keyboard. He claimed the instrument had no place in a metal band.
“Wow,” the host said, clapping. “The studio version of that song is amazing, but wow.” He shook his head, seeming at a loss for words. “I know I’m not alone in thinking these ladies rock.”
A muffled woo came from the observation booth.
Bryant laughed. “Steve Aimes apparently agrees.”
“Which is odd,” Iona muttered, glancing over her shoulder at Exodus End’s drummer. The same drummer who hadn’t had a single positive thing to say about them the night before.
Sage shot a knowing grin at Roux and said, “Not so odd, really.”
Iona’s eyebrows drew together. A feat of strength considering the length of her false eyelashes and how much eye makeup she was currently wearing. Roux shrank down on her stool.
“I guess I missed something,” Iona said.
Which was a good thing. Iona insisted that nothing but trouble could come from a romantic relationship between band members—either in the same band or from different bands—on tour together. She’d even had her talent scout of a boyfriend back her up on that one. Not that Roux was planning to break the rule they’d all agreed upon before signing the contract to go on this tour—she agreed with the rule—but she couldn’t deny that she was attracted to the guy in the observation booth who’d told her just ten minutes ago that he had something in his pants for her . She straightened in her seat and tried to look as nonchalant as possible as Iona scrutinized the members of her band.
“So why don’t you introduce yourselves,” Jack Bryant said, nodding at Iona. “Let’s start with the one with the pipes. I had chills during the chorus.”
Iona brightened at his praise, which focused her attention on him and allowed Roux to relax. Roux peeked at Steve, who was making obscene kissing faces against the observation booth glass. She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Max had his fingers pressed to his forehead and was shaking his head at the disgrace his bandmate was making of himself.
“I’m Iona Clark. In addition to singing lead, I also play bass guitar.”
“The drawback to radio is that listeners can’t see you. First, trust me when I say she’s as gorgeous as she sounds. They’re all as go
rgeous as Iona sounds. Second, each of these women is color coded.”
They all laughed at that description.
“Iona is purple,” he added.
Iona said, “I hope you mean that I have purple streaks in my hair and as accents in my costume. If I were purple, you might want to do the Heimlich maneuver.”
Obviously charmed, Bryant chuckled. “I’d rather give you mouth-to-mouth.”
“My boyfriend might take issue with that,” Iona said, “unless I actually needed CPR to save my life. Then he’d thank you.”
“I should have known you were all taken,” Bryant said.
“Not all of us,” Sage said.
“You heard it here first. One of Baroquen’s amazing guitarists is single,” he said, as if it were a public service announcement. “The green one.”
“The blue one too,” Azura said, holding up one hand and wiggling her fingers in a wave.
“Well, that has my fantasies running wild.” Bryant fiddled with his shirt collar.
“As it should,” Azura purred, resting her head against Sage’s shoulder.
The two of them always played around like they were lovers. Thing was, Roux wasn’t entirely sure their faux onstage attraction was entirely fabricated. Not that it was any of her business.
“The second set of pipes in the band wears red. What’s your name?”
“Roux Williams. And as you pointed out earlier, my real role is keyboardist. I just sing backup and harmony.”
“I do wish we could have gotten a piano in here for you to play. If you missed our airing of ‘Starlight’ earlier, you must give it a listen. The entire song is amazing, but that keyboard solo . . . Wow. I bet smoke comes off your fingers when you play that.”
Roux chuckled. “Maybe a little.”
“We also didn’t get to hear much out of Baroquen’s drummer,” the host said, turning his attention to Lily. “She’s the fastest chick with sticks I’ve ever had the pleasure of thrash dancing to.”
Iona snorted, but Bryant continued his description of Lily. “Her color is white. Is that a color? Or an absence of color?”