Girl vs. Boy Band (9 page)

“I'd be happy to show you the sights,” Ollie said. “London Bridge, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben . . .”

“Who's Big Ben?” Mimi asked. “A British rapper?”

Max cracked up. Ollie tried to hide a chuckle. Aidan just rolled his eyes.

“What?” asked Mimi.

Before Lark could explain, Jasper arrived and it occurred to her that she had never seen a more perfect specimen of humanity.

The A-list choreographer to the stars was young, about early twenties, and tall.

No, make that super tall. Six four, or maybe even six five. Muscular, with broad shoulders, long legs, and eyes the color of chocolate. He moved with such masculine grace and swagger that even his walk could be considered an advanced-level dance move.

“Wow,” whispered Mimi as Jasper strode across the pool area to greet them.

“Hey, guys. I take it you're Abbey Road.” Jasper gave the girls a friendly wave. “These your backup dancers?”

“Yes!” cried Mimi.

“No!” Lark blurted.

The boys introduced themselves and explained that Donna thought it would be best to hold the dance class outside. Jasper, or Jas, as he preferred to be called, was completely cool with that. He gave them a quick rundown of his career, which included working with some of the biggest names in music.

“Impressive,” said Mimi. “And did I mention . . . 
wow
!”

“So, let's see what you guys got,” said Jas, looking around for a sound system and finding nothing. “Uh . . . gonna need some music.”

“Right! I'll just go get my speakers,” said Lark, happy to escape for even a moment. For the last sixty minutes, she'd been feeling self-conscious about everything from rubbing sunscreen on her legs to diving off the diving board. Right now she just needed five minutes to herself.

Ten would be better.

Invisibility would be best of all.

Wrapping her cover-up around herself, she hurried across the patio and slipped through the sliding glass door into the house. Her mother was at the kitchen table, finishing up a phone call.

“Jas is here,” Lark reported. “I'm getting my speakers so they can get started.”

“Excellent,” said her mom. “But I've been thinking, honey. Maybe you and Mimi should leave the boys alone with Jasper for a bit. This is business, after all, and he might not want the band manager's daughter and her friend hanging around. Would you mind?”

Mind? It was like the answer to a prayer. Lark was just about to tell her mother this when Mimi burst into the kitchen.

“Grab your dancing shoes, girlfriend!” she cried. “Jas says we can learn the dance routines with the boys!”

CHAPTER

SEVEN

“We'll start with a little freestyle to get warm,” said Jas, placing his iPod into the speaker dock and hitting Play.

Ollie went first. He wasn't a bad dancer, but he wasn't what one would call a natural, either. He managed to keep time with the beat, but his moves were more athletic than graceful.

Aidan stepped forward next. “What do we have to dance for, anyway?” he protested. “We aren't some manufactured boy band. We're real musicians. We play instruments.”

“Donna wants us to be the whole glossy package,” Ollie reminded him. “The fans will like it. That means we'd better like it. So shut up and dance.”

Aidan grumbled but did as he was told.

It was immediately clear why he was against adding dancing to the act. He couldn't stick to the beat and everything he did looked awkward and forced. Clearly, he would have trouble picking up Jasper's complex hip-hop moves. When Aidan finished his ungainly performance, he glared around at the group, as though daring someone to make a negative comment.

No one did.

And then it was Max's turn.

The second he broke into his routine, Lark gasped. She marveled at the way he was able to move in perfect sync with the music, sliding, spinning, even throwing in a little pop and lock.

“He's incredible!” breathed Mimi. “God, I wish I had my camera!”

Max finished with the backflip Lark remembered from their homemade music video, and everyone began to cheer.

“Well done, Maxie!” said Ollie, clapping his bandmate on the shoulder.

“Wow! But you're lucky you didn't bust your skull on those flagstones,” Aidan groaned, but underneath the words, Lark heard his respect.

“We've got a lot of talent here,” said Jas. “How about we try a combination? Guys, line up. Max, let's have you right here in front. Girls, come on, jump in. The boys need to get used to sharing the stage with backup dancers.”

Mimi didn't have to be asked twice. She planted herself right next to Ollie.

Lark positioned herself a good three feet behind Aidan.

Then Jasper broke down the combination for them, shouting out the steps and counting off the beats as he demonstrated. The boys followed his lead, as did Mimi and Lark. Ollie had some trouble with the turn at first, nearly tripping over his own feet, but he got it right on the second try.

“Okay, from the beginning,” said Jas, reaching for the iPod. “Five, six, seven, eight . . .”

The music began to thump, and three handsome Brits, one lifelong Angeleno, and a very nervous Tennessee transplant started to dance.

“
Yeah
, baby!” said Jasper, snapping his fingers in time. “Yeah, that's it. Aidan, loosen up, dude. Ollie, stay with the beat. Mimi, nice attitude, girl. I love it! Max, you're doin' great. And Lark . . . perfect!”

Lark felt her cheeks burn, though whether it was from the praise, the exertion, or the hot midday sun, she couldn't say.

When they finished the combination, Jas gave them high fives all around, then told them to take a minute to catch their breath. Max offered to run inside and grab some water bottles for everyone.

“That was so cool,” said Mimi, slipping a hair elastic from her wrist and wrangling her long mass of dark waves into a messy bun. “We're taking a dance class with Jasper Howell! If Alessandra Drake could see us now, right?”

Lark could think of nothing worse than being seen by Alessandra Drake, although she wondered if Teddy Reese would be impressed. After all, according to Jas, Lark's dancing had been “perfect.”

But not as perfect as Max's, who'd returned from the kitchen and was handing her a chilled bottle of spring water.

“Thanks, Max,” she said, twisting off the plastic cap and taking a long drink. “You're a real great dancer. Did you take lessons?”

“Nah. Lessons are expensive. I guess you'd say I'm self-taught.” He took a gulp from his own bottle. “I just wish my singing was as good as my dancing.”

Jasper clapped his hands. “Let's take it from the top, people.”

The five dancers scrambled back into their lines and as the pounding beat filled the air again, they broke into their dance.

“Lookin' good,” Jas said. “Use those shoulders. That's better. Energy, energy!”

The first eight counts were flawless. Lark could feel her heart racing as she slid easily from one step to the next. Max was showing off a little, and Aidan was just about keeping up with him. Mimi was smiling and singing along.

Then . . . it happened. And it happened
fast
! Ollie went into the turn with a little too much gusto. His ankle twisted beneath him and he went staggering into Aidan, who crashed into a chaise longue. Hard.

Furious, Aidan righted himself from the overturned chair and spun to face Ollie. “You utter pillock! You clumsy idiot!”

“Take it easy, mate. It was an accident!”

“Oh, it was, was it? Well, so's this!” Aidan's fist shot out and connected with Ollie's cheekbone.

“No!” cried Mimi. “Not the
face
!”

Ollie winced and swung back at Aidan, who ducked, evading the punch.

Lark felt herself being brushed aside as Jasper barreled past her to catch Aidan around the rib cage and yank him away from Ollie.

“Get off of me!” Aidan demanded. “Let me go.”

Lark watched with wide eyes as the choreographer hauled Aidan across the patio.

“This is a dance class, not a street fight,” Jasper said through gritted teeth.

“Bugger off!”

There was a shout, followed by a splash, and the next thing Lark knew, Aidan was coming up for air, gasping and sputtering in the shallow end of the pool.

“You just stay in there!” Jasper ordered, pointing his finger at the dripping Aidan. “Until you cool off.”

Aidan gave him a wicked stare, but made no move toward the ladder.

It took a second for Lark to realize she was trembling. Unlike the play fight that first night in the driveway, this scuffle had been real. After the conversation about girlfriends, Lark had realized that the tensions between Ollie and Aidan weren't just down to jet lag or creative differences. There was definitely more to the story. Lark wondered if things were ever going to improve between these boys, or if the hostility between them was going to continue to escalate.

How in the world was she going to stand it if it did?

She turned to where Mimi was seated beside Ollie on a chaise, tenderly examining his bruised cheek. A slim trickle of blood was making its way from just beneath his eye to his chin.

“I don't think it needs stitches,” Mimi observed. “But it's probably going to be black-and-blue for a while.”

Lark looked from Ollie's injured face to Aidan, who was now floating on his back in the deep end of the pool: his black shirt billowed out around him, making him look like some sort of evil sea creature.

Then she turned to Jasper, who let out a long, disgusted rush of breath. Without a word, he headed for the house, presumably to tell Donna he was leaving and never coming back.

Only Max seemed unbothered by the madness. He stood patiently beside the speakers, looking as though nothing unusual had happened. When Lark caught his eye, he gave her a wry smile.

“All right, then,” he said, reaching for the iPod's Play button. “Shall we try it again from the top?”

Somehow Donna was able to convince Jas to give the boys a second chance. They would meet again on Monday, this time at his dance studio, where he thought he might be able to exert a little more control.

Ollie had recovered from the fight quickly enough. Lark realized she liked this about him; he was generally an upbeat kid and didn't seem the type to wallow or sweat the small stuff.

Aidan, on the other hand, was turning out to be a sulker of the first order. After Jas left, he climbed out of the pool, dripped his way through the house, and stayed in his room right through lunch.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick carried a tray containing a big, leafy Caesar salad, and five frosty glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade to the wrought iron patio table. Crusty French bread and whipped butter came with the meal. It looked wonderful, but Lark wasn't in the mood.

“Come on,” she said to Mimi. “Let's go to your house and see if we can talk your mom into making us her famous empanadas, then we can watch a movie.”

“Are you nuts?” said Mimi, her eyes zeroing in on the empty chair next to Ollie. “I'm not going anywhere. What if something happens to Oliver while I'm gone?”

“Meems, it's a bruise. A few little scratches.”

“Scratches turn into infections. Infections turn into comas! What if he died while I was off eating empanadas? I'd never forgive myself.”

“Aren't you exaggerating just a bit?” said Lark. But she knew it was already too late. Mimi had a crush. Lark could tell because for some reason, whenever Meems
really
liked a boy, she started referring to him by his full first name.

“Besides, your mom said they were going to rehearse their new song after lunch. Oliver's singing lead vocals. I have to stay and hear it.”

“Right,” sighed Lark. “Because things went so well during dance rehearsal . . .”

But since Mimi was determined not to leave Ollie's—make that
Oliver
's—side, Lark dropped into a chair and helped herself to some salad. With any luck, she'd develop some freak allergy to anchovies, break out in a horrible rash, and be forced to douse herself in Calamine lotion and spend the rest of the day in bed.

No such luck. The Caesar salad was delicious and then it was time for Abbey Road to sing.

They made their way up to the room formerly known as Lark's music studio. Aidan appeared in dry clothing (all black—big surprise) and glared at Ollie the whole time. The boys' instruments had been arranged and each boy took his place: Aidan at the electronic keyboard, Max behind his drums. Ollie picked up his Stratocaster as tenderly as if it were a newborn infant, which Lark fully understood.

She dropped cross-legged onto the carpet beside a dreamy-eyed Mimi, while Donna perched on the arm of the big chair.

First they played the song through once. It was called “Promises to Keep,” and the composition was more sophisticated than Lark would have expected. But it was also infectious and fun. It was exactly the kind of tune that tween and teenage girls would adore—it would get stuck in their heads and they'd sing it off-key at the tops of their lungs on long bus rides to basketball games and cheerleading competitions.