Page 9 of Hard Rock Deceit
"Can't deny the truth," Damon said. He gave me a lecherous grin. "I can show you personally ifyou'dlike."
I blanched, taking astepback.
"No thanks," I saidhastily.
"Ouch, shot down." Damon faked a blow to hischest.
"No flirting with the photographer,"Augustsaid.
"Why, you calling dibs?" Damon asked with an archedeyebrow.
August ignored hisquestion.
"Where are the others?" he asked instead, no doubt referring to their lead singer andbassist.
"They dropped off their stuff earlier," Ian said. "They're already at the concert hall. We're heading overtherenow."
"We'll be right behind you,"Augustsaid.
The twins piled their bags on a handful of other suitcases tossed haphazardly in a corner. Before they left, Damon threw me one last parting wink. August picked up my suitcase and tucked it awaycarefully.
"We've got a concert here tonight, then we're onto the bus for a couple hours drive," he told me. "We'll stay in a hotel and play again the next night. I'll email you the schedule. It can getconfusing."
"You waited until the last possible minute to hire me, didn't you? What if I'dsaidno?"
I couldn't place his expression, that slight tilt of his lips combined with a piercingstare.
"If you'd said no, I wouldn't have asked anyone else," he said. "You're the only one Iwanted."
I blinked behind my glasses,takenback.
"Why?" Iasked.
He examined me closely, a slow, thorough sweep of his eyes. The heat in that look sent my heart pounding. His eyes pinned me down. I couldn'tbreathe.
"Like I told you before. There's something about the way you take photos. Something unique.Somethingrare."
I remembered his words from thegallery.
"You meanpassion?"
"Yes. I want to see that reflected in the photos you take onourtour."
I didn't even know how I'd done it in the first place. I didn't have much experience withpassion.
August said he thought the desire wasunintentional.
Of course it had been. I took pictures of buildings, graffiti, streetphotography.
"I know you say you see something in my photographs. I have no idea how I did it. I don't know how toreplicatethat."
"You're overthinking it. There's something inside you, inside every artist, that longs to find meaning in the world. That wants to express their thoughts and emotions. Just tap into that part ofyourself."
"Which part?" I asked,frustrated.
"The part that feels passion.Desire."
"I don't know if I've ever felt those things," I saidquietly.
