Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rock Star (8 page)

“I had no idea,” Darcy said softly.

“Didn’t,” Elizabeth frowned and started over, “didn’t you hear us perform at Meryton?”

“Yes, but you didn’t sing there.”

“Yes I did!” she protested. “If you missed me, you must have come really late to the show.”

Darcy began to get the uncomfortable feeling that he was making a fool of himself. Stiffly he replied, “Yes, we were late that evening.”

“But didn’t you listen to our CD?”

“No, I did not,” he answered her haughtily. “Frankly, it doesn’t matter to me what you sound like in a studio. We needed a band who could play live.”

“And what do you think?” Elizabeth asked him, her eyes demanding an immediate answer from him.

He stared at her for a beat. “I’ve told you before, Elizabeth, you’re very talented.”

“Darcy! Elizabeth! We’re going out to lunch to celebrate.” Elizabeth jerked, as if startled by Charles’s voice. She looked away from Darcy to the safety of her friends.

“No, Charles, I’m going to stay here,” he demurred. “I want to practice.”

“Will!” Richard protested. “Come on! We’re going to get Indian.”

Darcy refused, despite the protests of his friends. Finally, Caroline offered to bring him back something and the group moved out in a noisy cheerful mass.

Darcy shut the door, opened the case to his Paul Reid Smith, and plugged it in. For the next forty minutes, he played without thinking, processing emotions he didn’t care to examine or understand in the way he knew how. He felt troubled and frustrated, and he sought release of these feelings in the privacy of his music. His eyes closed and his breathing grew deeper as he focused on the sensations in his hands. His fingers moved of their own volition, without thought. They gently loved the instrument, caressing the strings, squeezing them tightly then releasing them, his fingertips dancing over the frets to cause the silver strands to vibrate at the rate he desired. The music that came out of this communication between man and guitar would never be heard by another soul. It was his alone. It was a song of yearning, but even he could not name it as such. He just knew the music was him at that particular moment in time.

He stopped, slightly dazed, when the door opened and Caroline walked in. “I knew I would find you here,” she said indulgently. She placed a white paper bag on the table. “The others will be back in a moment. Now unplug, eat, and get changed.”

Darcy looked at her, his eyes expressing the gratitude his words never would. “Thank you, Caro,” he said simply.

With a nod, Caroline left the room, satisfied.

It was twenty minutes after one when Darcy walked into the office area. He was wearing skintight black leather pants, a loose white linen shirt that was left mostly unbuttoned, and boots. “Where’s Charles?” he asked, looking around.

Caroline could just see the edge of the tattoo on his left breast. “You are wearing a shirt?”

“Are you disappointed?”

“I’m heartbroken.”

Darcy’s eyes expressed annoyance. “Caroline.” She grinned when he used her full name. “Despite what you and every other woman in this building thinks, I do not go shirtless for your viewing pleasure.”

Caroline tilted her head skeptically and folded her arms across her chest.

“It’s very hot under the stage lights and I hate having anything binding my arms when I play,” he said in a low tone that was not to be challenged.

Caroline resisted the urge to comment on the fact that Darcy didn’t seem to mind having anything on his arms when he was rehearsing and moved on. “Sorry, Darcy. Charles is probably watching the video shoot.”

Darcy regarded her carefully and then shut the office door. “What do you think of them?”

She had been expecting the question. She valued her role as Darcy’s confidant and made a rule of being prepared for anything he might ask. “LBS?” she shrugged indifferently. “I like them. I mean, they
are
green and a little young—”

“They’re our age,” he disagreed calmly.

“You know what I mean. Jane invited us for Sunday dinner, for goodness sakes,” she grinned and shook her head. “Still, they’re smart and professional. I haven’t had a single complaint from them. They aren’t whiny divas or anything. You can’t know until we are on the road, but I think they’re going to work out.”

“Have you been watching them?” he asked softly.

“Oh yeah.”

“Are they clean?”

Caroline nodded. “Cleaner than we are, at least,” she shrugged.

“What about Charles? He’s all over them.”

“I wish I could tell you that it’s just Charles being friendly.”

“What about Jane?”

Caroline sighed. “Yeah, I know. I don’t know what we can do about it. Just have to hope…” Her voice trailed off, leaving all her worries unspoken. “Frankly, I’m surprised. She’s not really his type. He usually goes for high-maintenance exotics.”

“Don’t remind me,” Darcy frowned, tiredly. “All right, we need to get going.”

“Have a great time. I’m not coming,” Caroline said simply.

“Why not?” Darcy asked suspiciously.

“Faust just called from Austin. It seems one of the big lighting boards has gone missing.”

“Do we have a backup?”

“Of course. But Faust is really hoping we can still find it. According to him, the house manager down there couldn’t find his asshole with a flashlight.”

“Faust would never say that.”

“He didn’t, but that was the general message,” Caroline shrugged. “If we have to use the backup board he will be up all night programming it. The backup board belongs to the house and our software won’t talk to it. I need to stay here and man the fort.”

“Will you have to fly down early? Should I cancel
Top 20
?” he asked hopefully.

“No, Faust can handle it. My going down a day early won’t help anything, and I need to stay here and make sure you do what you’re supposed to,” she added with a meaningful look.

The phone rang. Darcy knew who it was and was moving toward the doorway even as she hung up. “That was Rebecca. They are waiting for you out front.”

“Bye, Caro,” he sulked as he left the room.

Caroline grinned privately to herself as she went back to work.

***

Elizabeth looked at her bags. They looked disturbingly small, considering how long she was going to be away from home. Her personal belongings had been packed into two suitcases and a carry-on that she would be living out of for the next three months.

Her costumes and instruments were already packed on the plane. Her beloved guitars had been taken from her arms and were now part of the Grind Tour freight. It bothered her to not have her babies where she could see them. She longed to hold her Taylor acoustic. It would soothe her nerves to play it.

Although she knew she should be trying to sleep, Elizabeth was simply too unsettled to lie down. Every day this week had brought completely new experiences to her; at times it had been overwhelming. The long train ride home each day had been her time to examine and process her thoughts and calm herself. Jane and Charlotte had seemed to understand, sitting quietly on the train beside her.

But today had been different. Perhaps it was the performance for Slurry or the video shoot, but today the train ride had not been enough to quiet her mind. She was a wild mixture of emotions inside: excitement and pleasure being periodically dampened by a swirl of fear, worry, and anger.

A hiss escaped from her chest as she remembered again her conversation with Darcy.
Arrogant prick!
First the jerk stared at her throughout the whole concert, so much so that even Charlotte noticed it from the other side of the room, then he came down on her because he didn’t know she sang?
What the hell was his problem?
She clenched her teeth together as his brooding face appeared before her eyes.

Jane entered the room through the open door, sat on the bed, and said in a singsong voice, “I know what you’re thinking.”

Elizabeth exhaled in an annoyed snort, then grinned. She was grateful that Jane understood her so well. “What did I ever do to him?” she asked with genuine curiosity mixed with the annoyance in her voice.

Jane shrugged. “Charles said he is just uncomfortable around strangers,” she replied kindly as her hand absently played with her hair.

Elizabeth let go of her anger and switched tracks in her mind. She smiled at Jane. “You and Charles seem to be spending quite a bit of time together. Tell me about him.”

Jane’s forehead creased in thought. “You have been there every time we’ve met,” she paused, and then grinned, “except the first time.”

“And when you two picked up lunch for everyone on Wednesday, and the tour of the studio he gave you on Tuesday, and…”

“All right!” Jane conceded Elizabeth’s point with a smile. “We have been talking, but it’s not like we have been sharing any big secrets. He is just so nice and charming. I really like being around him.”

“And he’s cute,” Elizabeth teased.

“Oh, he’s gorgeous! What do you mean cute?” Jane objected playfully. “Lizzy, he is so beautiful,” she moaned wistfully. “But so far, he has just been friendly around me, that’s all.”

Elizabeth did her best “worried mother” impression. “Oh-ho! You’ll see. Just wait. He’s waiting till he can get you alone on the tour. Then he’s going to sully you and leave you desperate and ruined on the side of the road!”

Elizabeth and Jane laughed at the very idea. Then Elizabeth grew quiet and looked at her sister thoughtfully. “Be careful, Jane,” Elizabeth said quietly. “You tend to see only the good in people. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Jane hugged her sister tightly. “No one is going to get hurt! Nothing is going to happen between Charles and me, Lizzy. He is a famous rock star and who am I?” She released Elizabeth to look in her face. “Besides, we have each other, you, me, and Charlotte. We’re going to look out for each other and have a wonderful time. Right?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Right. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“’Night, Lizzy,” Jane said softly as she left the room.

Elizabeth crawled into her bed. She forced herself to stop worrying about last-minute things she might have forgotten to pack, resolving that whatever she had left behind, she would either get new on the road or have sent to her.

To distract her mind, she thought about her performance. In her mind, she went over the songs she had drilled over and over again for the last two weeks. But her thoughts betrayed her attempts to settle them, quickly giving way to the tall man who had been watching her today. Even his intensely good looks were not enough to soften her feelings about him. He rankled her, like an itch she couldn’t reach to scratch, mostly because she couldn’t figure him out. Elizabeth had always prided herself on her ability to read people, but Darcy simply confused her. He was nothing like his reputation for a wild man. In fact, she was certain she had never met a more uptight, arrogant man in her life. If there was going to be any trouble on the tour, it would be coming from him.

It was the plane that did it. Getting up early, saying good-bye to her parents and sisters, even the limo ride to the airport all had a vague, hazy, surreal sensation. But when Elizabeth saw the large jet sitting alone on the tarmac bearing the name
De Bourgh
on its side, she knew it was real. She was really doing it. A desire, an ambition she had held for longer than she could remember was coming true. She smiled at everyone in the car and squeezed Jane’s hand.

The black limo pulled up beside the plane and stopped. As Elizabeth exited the car and walked around to the trunk to get her bags, another limo pulled up beside her own.

Like a warrior, Darcy strode out of the car, his black sunglasses shielding his eyes from the early morning light, his long coat protecting him from the chill. Without acknowledging anyone, he walked purposefully to Rebecca, waiting at the bottom of the ramp.

“Good morning, Darcy,” she said, her eyes making only the briefest contact before returning to their constant scanning.

“Are we ready to go?” he asked, his face turning to the others, who were moving toward the ramp.

“Almost.”

Darcy turned his head and stared at Rebecca, his expression displeased.

“Charles and Caroline aren’t here yet,” Rebecca said by way of explanation.

In a flash Darcy snapped open his cell phone. He punched a button and held it to his ear. “Caro, where are you?” he demanded.

“Five minutes, Darcy,” her voice replied apologetically.

“Caro!”

“Seriously, Darcy, we will be there in five minutes.”

“You know, Caroline, generally it is the job of the tour manager to call the artist, not the other way around,” he snarled.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, sighing.

He looked up. “Damn!” he swore softly but emphatically.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Darcy’s eyes swept over a third limo, just pulling up along his. “The bitch is here.”