Page 87 of Cherry Beats

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

“Is that why my chest feels tight?”

“Wait right here.”

Julia walked away, opened the door to the room where the boys were giving interviews, and she slipped inside. It took less than thirty seconds for the door to open again and Presley to march out, a frown set in place, but his confident half-smile ever present.

“What are you doing?” I gasped. “Get back in there!”

“Chill, Mum, it’s break time.” He smirked, coming to a stop in front of me and sliding his strong arms around my waist to pull me in for a kiss. A kiss that made my body melt in a heartbeat. A slow kiss designed to seduce me with its thoughtfulness and its tender twists and turns. A kiss that let his tongue sweep against mine to communicate silently. A kiss that made everything calm.

When we broke away, I was dizzy and unstable on my feet, but Presley held me up until I was able to open my eyes to blink him back into focus.

“Feeling better?” he whispered smugly.

“She told you I was freaking out, didn’t she?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He winked before he moved to stand beside me, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulder again and pushing me forward to the group of laughing hyenas. “Guys,” Presley said smoothly, instantly gaining the attention of his fellow band members.

Four familiar men turned to study me.

Rhett’s shit-eating grin was explosive, and he stood there silently with an unlit cigarette barely clinging on to his lips.

Then there was Big D, a face that made my own smile light up. He looked happy to see me, and a lot less curious than Rhett, who I could tell was still scanning me from head to foot and back again.

Hawk and Coops were standing side by side, both of them with their hands digging deep into the pockets of their jeans.

“I’d like you to meet Cherry,” Presley announced with an air of calm that wasn’t usual for him. I glanced up at his face, noting the way his lips were twitching and his jaw was ticking. “She’s… kind of important to me,” he said before he gave me the side-eye, a look that said,That’s right, sweetheart. I’m all in now. Join me, won’t you?

Turning back to the boys, I offered a shy smile, and raised my hand in the air.

Each one of them offered a nod of the head or a small wave of their own, except for Big D who stepped forward without any fear, scooped me up into his arms, twirled me around, and then plonked me back down on the floor. “So fucking good to finally meet you.”

I swayed, trying to find my footing again. “You too, Dave.” I laughed softly.

“Call me D. Dave makes me sound like an office twat.”

“I can’t wait to get the fuck outta here,” Rhett piped up, clearly already bored with the introductions. He plucked a lighter from his pocket, flicked the gas and then pressed it to the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling deeply.

No smoking indoors laws didn’t apply to rock stars apparently.

“This shit goes on for hours, and it’s the same old, same old questions,” Rhett went on, and Presley pulled me into his side while Rhett took command of the conversation. “What’s next for you guys?” he mimicked in a woman’s high-pitched voice. “Who inspired the song Denim-Covered Lover? Who is the driving force behind the band and your success? When will you announce you’re headlining TriFest?”

I gasped unintentionally. “You’reheadliningTriFest?”

TriFest was the Glastonbury of tribute songs, where some of the world’s biggest international stars would gather once a year to pay tribute to the legends of the past. David Bowie, The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, or anyone they deemed worthy. The bands and artists only had one rule: you were only allowed to play one of your own songs. The rest had to be covers. It was the perfect blend for me, mixing the old with the new, bringing the history of music to the here and now.

Rhett inhaled another puff of smoke, the cigarette still hanging from the corner of his mouth, and his one eye scrunched up as the smoke drifted over it. He tilted his head and exhaled slowly, blowing the smoke out in one long stream as he spoke, “Yeah, Pres said you had a thing for shit music.”

Presley laughed, dodging out of the way before I could slap him.

“Did you say that about me?”

“No,” he said through a chuckle before he looked at Rhett and pointed a finger at him. “Shut your mouth, dick.”

Rhett beamed. “Shit, I could have some fun with this. I like this girl, Pres. You’re running scared.”

Presley straightened up and came back to me, and like a fool in love, I was completely unable to do anything other than smile when he went behind me and slid his arms around my waist, propping his chin on my shoulder. “She pretends she doesn’t love me, but every one of you should know it’s all for show.”

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