Page 16 of Diva Pop

Chapter Five

The dawn of a new week brought fresh promise. Usually. However, Silas wasn’t so sure about that in the case of Three Trick Pony. He’d never spent so much time with a band in the rehearsal stages before, but he told himself that it was necessary. This was a new situation with new members, they all needed to learn to work together as a team and there were so many personnel issues that were yet to be handled.

Silas scratched his head, chuckling to himself. The last thing he needed was to handle Jett in any way. It was bad enough that he couldn’t bring himself to leave the studio for even five minutes. In all honesty, verifying that Jett was okay was a big part of the reason he stuck around, but he couldn’t face the brutal truth of that right now.

He stretched his legs in the cheap, standard issue rolling desk chair and closed the lid of his laptop. He’d given up trying to work off his iPad exclusively after the second day. If he was going to indulge his obsession with the band, he’d determined he needed his computer with him. That was also why he’d also ordered a better chair, which was supposed to be delivered that day.

Silas checked his watch. Fifteen minutes remained before the start of rehearsal. He tapped his fingers along the chair arms that boasted areas of cracked vinyl, as if the fabric had absorbed the broken dreams of every artist that had taken up residence in the pursuit of fame and fortune then split under the strain.

After the initial explosion from Jett the first day, he’d seemed to rally and had been trying to prove how reliable and trustworthy a band member he was. However, that attitude had been eroding as each day passed. By Friday, he’d gone from being thirty minutes early and raring to go, to showing up with a minute to spare but taking another five to get changed. At that rehearsal, he’d sniped that he’d forgotten he was allowed to dance again, so didn’t think anyone would care whether he was warmed up yet or not.

Silas rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t imagine how Jett had gotten away with this kind of behavior at ABT. Great dancer or not, no professional dance company would tolerate Jett’s shenanigans, especially not one of such high renown.

Yet, Silas knew firsthand, once he’d asked around, that the knee injury was genuinely the reason Jett was let go. They couldn’t take a chance that Jett’s knee would give out while lifting a partner or holding her aloft. Not that dancing in Three Trick Pony wasn’t physically demanding, but Jett wasn’t required to hold a move while balancing on one leg. Non-dancers didn’t realize that many times, the slow, precise moves were more strenuous than the faster ones.

But that didn’t mean Jett’s knee was immune to injury, or even permanent damage, if he wasn’t careful. And if Silas didn’t stop worrying about that twenty-four-seven, along with everything else related to Jett, he was going to need to purchase stock in an antacid company. It would undoubtedly make him a billionaire.

Veronica approached him and Silas switched into professional mode.

“What is it, Veronica?”

She glanced over her shoulder where the other four members were warming up on the other side of the large space. Even so, when she returned her attention to Silas, she kept her voice low.

“So, I need to discuss something with you.”

He wasn’t surprised. He heard almost the same sentence from her a couple times a day.

“Go on.”

“Paul is threatening to quit if Crispin stays in the band.”

Okay. She had his attention. Paul had been suspiciously quiet and cooperative all week. Apparently, he’d been assessing the situation before stating his case, unlike Jett, who announced his case loudly and dramatically every chance he got. Silas smiled.

Beautiful and full of so much emotion.

Veronica cleared her throat. “Um, I have no idea why you’re smiling, but I can’t work under these circumstances. I need to know if I’m going to have four guys, three guys, five guys, no guys. As it is, I’m still trying to figure out what to do with the so-called lead singer in case he can't dance.”

Silas’ hackles rose. “Jett is the lead singer on the song for this video, as well as half of the other songs the band will be performing on tour.”

She flicked her gaze to the ceiling while rolling her tongue in her mouth. Silas could only imagine what scathing curses those clamped lips of hers were holding in. Veronica jammed her fists on her hips.

“Look. I want this gig. But I don’t want it that bad. Not enough so I end up wishing I’d never dreamed of becoming a choreographer in the first place. Because seriously, all these spoiled brats are making me not want to get out of bed in the morning.”

Silas lifted one eyebrow. Was she kidding with this shit? She’d only been working with all these ‘spoiled brats’ for a week. Four days in total, since they didn’t rehearse on the weekends. In his book, it seemed as if she was the choreographer version of a bitch diva.

Silas nodded, working out in his head how to keep the boat upright in the water. “All right. Give me another week. If you decide to walk after that, you’ll get your full monthly rate. Walk now, and you get the four days you’ve worked and that’s it.”

Veronica glared at him with hooded eyes. “Sure, whatever.”

Heat rose in Silas’ neck up to his cheeks, but it wasn’t from embarrassment. He wasn’t about to be manipulated or disrespected by a choreographer whose attitude had been grating on him from the get-go.

“I changed my mind. You can go now.”

She gasped then seemed to regain her composure. “You fucking use one dance step from my routines, and I’ll hit you with a lawsuit so fast it’ll make you dizzy.”

“Uh-huh. Got it. Be sure to remind yourself that you didn’t create the routines from the old videos nor did you invent the high kick, and we should be fine.”

“Fuck you, Silas.”

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