Page 15 of Rock Strong

Dead elephant. Yeah, so I was a little stubborn.

But scared?

She’d be, too, if Point Break’s front man, a guy who was front and center on the world entertainment stage, had his eyes on her. Maybe I was being presumptuous, but if Liam Collier really was interested in me, he would hurt me. I knew he would. I witnessed the party at Robbie’s house. I saw the women hanging off of him. I saw the sizes of their breasts. Mine were only 32B. I read the online articles about his bad-boy reputation and the pics of him with that Italian model Rosemary showed me this morning after the flowers arrived. In fact, right now he was probably still at the arena doing God-knows-what with God-knows-who following our successful first night. Could I ever fit into that scene?

Absolutely not.

I looked over at the little curtain separating my bed from my junk bunk, the area containing all my stuff. Sweeping it aside, I beamed quietly at the collection of yellow roses and sunflowers. I should have left them behind, but I didn’t have the heart. It was the only bouquet I’d ever received in my life. And it came from Liam Collier. Liam Collier of Point Break. Along with a bottle of hundred-dollar wine. Addressed to me, Abby “Small and Meek” Chan.

Ugh, shake it off!

I was responsible, a planner, ambitious, and, yes, cautious. But being that way had served me well. I wouldn’t be where I was right now if I hadn’t taken extra care with my life decisions. Some might call being careful a good thing. So why was I feeling guilty over it? Why was I allowing Rosemary’s pressure to irk me?

She couldn’t possibly be asleep so quickly, so I texted her a postscript to our conversation, just to drive the point home: He’s a showman. Showmen know how to act/perform to get what they want.

My message was immediately delivered and read, and a second later, she formulated her reply: He’s a musician like you…don’t forget that.

“Pfft,” I scoffed. But then I sighed. Below me, Rosemary giggled.

He was a musician. Maybe not one I’d listen to on a regular basis, but he was undeniably talented. Half the time, he screamed to music, and the rest of the time, he sounded like he was aching, as though someone were cutting him with a warm, beautiful knife. During Save Me Tonight, I’d caught glimpses of real vocals training. He wouldn’t have been able to hit that falsetto note without it. So maybe I was right, and most of it was indeed an act. Maybe underneath the façade was someone who really did adore music as much as I did. Was it right to judge him without knowing for sure?

I sighed and closed my eyes, giving in to the lulling rhythm of the road below us.

Would it hurt me to find out?

Most definitely, I thought. He could hurt you like you’ve never been hurt before, Abby. So be careful. Be on guard. Enjoy your fantasies of him. But don’t think it can ever be more.

Driving into Seattle the next morning was the proverbial dream come true. Even though we took I-5 instead of the more scenic route through the mountains, the sights as we drove into the city were simply amazing. Spending two whole days here would be worth the entire trip. Once downtown’s Space Needle came into view with Mount Rainier in the distance, my heart raced. I took pics to show my mom.

As we approached our next venue, I was in a great mood, ready to start the day. An awesome catered breakfast was set up, most likely just for us “lesser” crew members since I never caught sight of any Point Break band boys, and after breakfast, it was rehearsal time with the rest of the orchestra. Our conductor, Richard Littlebrook, was a classy, older man with carefully coiffed silver hair, a slender shape, handsome features, and a penchant for younger women.

“Excellent, Miss Chan,” he said, not for the first time. “Though we might want to work on the last few measures a bit. Stick around during the break. I’ll help you.” He winked then scanned me up and down. I was wearing a long, gray skirt and yellow tank top. Nothing risqué or out of this world, but apparently, it was enough to fuel his fantasies.

Rosemary swiveled in her chair and gave me a sly, pouty look. “Yes, Miss Chan. Stay during the break, so you can love me for a long time,” she whispered. She bit her bottom lip and faked an intense orgasm.

I jabbed her in the shoulder with my bow.

“You too, Miss Bourré.” Richard eyed Rosemary in the most horndog of ways. “You may want to stay as well. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

I lowered my face and snarfed a laugh down the back of my cello. “Yeah, Miss Bourré, it’ll only take a few minutes. ’Cause you’re too hot for me.” I laughed so hard my eyes leaked. Oh, man, I needed to laugh more often.

Rosemary’s shoulders shook. It was only a matter of time before we got into a full-blown giggling fit, the kind that had been commonplace in our early freshman days. While we waited for Richard to finish figuring out why Peta’s bass sounded sharp, then walking over and tuning it for her, I thought about how packed to the gills this stadium would be tonight.

Last night had been the most humbling experience. I’d played for large indoor audiences before, but nothing like the collective wailing, chanting sea of people that overtook the arena last night. Normally, I didn’t get too nervous about performing, but then again, I’d never come face-to-face with thirty thousand people before.

What must Liam feel like, I wondered, standing center stage, soaking in that kind of adoring attention? I remembered him standing there, absorbing the energy. He’d stood straight, feet together and arms splayed wide, a huge white light shrouding him in silhouette, making him look like the Messiah of Rock. It was no wonder he must feel invincible. It was no wonder women flocked to him and the other guys.

That was one thing the classical world would never see in a million years—chanting minions. Yes, our music halls were filled with adoring fans as well, but their reactions were vastly different, restrained. Only loud applause, cheers, and the occasional standing ovation told us we’d done well. How cool would it be, just once, for all those people in snazzy suits, tuxedos, and Versace dresses to stand on their chairs and shout their love for us? Scream their heads off as they carried the Principal Cello off in a wave of undulating hands?

I could hear the cheers. Abby! Abby! Abby!

Wow. Time for a break. And to get a grip on myself.

Luckily, Richard gave us a half-hour downtime. He was too busy with poor Peta to remind me and Rosemary to stay behind, so we took advantage and left the stage. “I’m going to hide in the bathroom,” she said. “I’ll see you in a little bit, Miss Chan.” She sniggered and disappeared down a hallway.

I needed fresh air to clear my head, so I exited through the double doors and headed outside for a walk. It was just past noon, and the venue was situated on a private garden adjacent to the arena that I’d heard was really beautiful. Outside, the noontime sun warmed my face. I walked past the convoy of buses, past the crew carrying heavy rigging, and past the main bus, which had FEEL THE BURN written in white paint on the windshield.

I’d never seen the band getting in or out of the bus. They were night owls, so I assumed it was because they operated on a completely different schedule. I wondered if Liam was in there right now. What would he be doing? What would he be thinking? What if he really was interested in me? What if he was lying in his bunk right now, shirtless, hand halfway down his pants, thinking of me?

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