II.ALLEGRA
-13-
Check-in was the swiftest Alle had ever encountered.The flight, tedious according to Ronnie.Her fault; she’d slept the whole way with her head on his shoulder, murmuring endearments to a dream lover.Boy did Ronnie love to tease.Alle didn’t recall dreaming about anything.Exhaustion had held her in a firm grip.
Ronnie talked incessantly the whole taxi ride from Nice to Monte Carlo.About what, Alle had no clue.His mind skipped about, landing in random places, while his hands wove his intense personality into the air around them.Their hotel turned out to be only a stone’s throw from the venue, so having got changed and freshened up, they walked over to join the queue of deranged metal heads waiting to be let in.
Alle had to admit the venue struck her as an odd choice.It was beautiful.Not too large, not too small, but it felt posh.The whole of Monaco felt posh, from the paving to the sunshine to the smells wafting past them on the sea breeze.It was certainly a far cry from the one other Black Halo gig she’d attended, back in her student days, squashed into the grubby campus student union ballroom with a bunch of rockers who didn’t give a damn who they spilled their beer over, as long as they could swish their hair and mosh until they keeled over.After which, they were unceremoniously dragged outside by their mates to spew up in the bushes.
The fans tonight were an altogether wealthier, and certainly a better-dressed, class of attendees.Although there was still a fair amount of impolite pushing and shoving, and up close, plenty of fevered stares.
Ronnie claimed over half of them were wired on coke.
They bought drinks and found a spot a little to the left.It was standing room only that went right up to the foot of the stage.Intimate, indeed.No crash barriers.No line of burly security guards straight out of a rugby league match.Only a mid-sized stage surrounded by glittering curtains of light.And wrapped around them a panoramic view of the Monte Carlo skyscrapers.
Would Spook sense her presence?See her in the crowd?What if Ronnie’s backstage passes were a joke, and this arm’s stretch away from the footlights was as close as she and Spook were destined to get?
Ronnie bowed towards her, leaning his head against the top of her fiery curls.“Which of these leather clad beasts that are about to rock our hearts out is your mega-crush on?”
What she felt for Spook went way beyond the level of infatuation.
“Maybe I can work some Ronnie magic and score you a hook-up.”
“If that’s not a reason not to spill, I don’t know what is.”She had to strain upwards and yell, for there were excited voices all around them.Ronnie tended to be very forthright—surprise tickets excepted—he’d probably march up to Spook and tell him from a distance of two inches that she wanted to snog him senseless and have his babies.“Who’s the support act?”
Ronnie shook his head.“There isn’t one.Tonight, it’s just them, up close and personal.Come on, tell your uncle Ronnie who it is you’re wetting yourself to see?You know I need all the inside information.”
“Uncle,” she blustered.“You’re what, five years younger than me?And my knickers aren’t damp, thank you very much.”
Lies.They totally were.For Spook.Always.
Only, there were so many what ifs about all of this.It would kill her if he wasn’t every bit as ecstatic to see her as she was to see him.
A wise woman would mentally prep herself for that possibility.After all, she had no idea what had happened last night, or what Spook’s continued silence meant, or if their almost-not-quite relationship had a hope in hell’s chance of becoming something more.
“They’re a top rock band, everyone in this room can name the member they’d most like to go down on, so spill, missus.”
“You spill,” she challenged.“If everyone in the room fancies at least one of them, then name your number one.”
“Xane,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation.“I reckon he’d be up for some wild fun.Not that I’ve any desire to bend over for him.”
“That’s cause you’re mister super mega straight.”
Ronnie gave her an intriguingly hard stare.God, that mouth of his, those smiles, they were obnoxiously infectious.“Hovering at sixty-six per cent, I think.And probably aromantic.But I’m always up for a good time, and you never know where the flow might take you.Now, you?”
The lights dimmed, saving her, except for the streamers of fairy lights strung around the windows.The sun was sliding out of view outside.A single spotlight illuminated the centre of the stage.Xane Geist purred his opening vocals into the mic, and the atmosphere in the room exploded.She and Ronnie barely exchanged a word for the rest of the set, though they both sang along to every word.
“You do know he’s a monk, don’t cha?”Ronnie hollered into her ringing ears when the lights finally rose at the end of the gig.
“Who is?”
“Spook Mortensen.That’s who your mega-crush is on.”
How the hell he’d worked that out she’d never know.Alle was on the cusp of denying it when Ronnie seized hold of her hand and tugged.“Let’s go and say ‘Hi’ to him then, shall we?”It wasn’t really a question.He was already leading the way.
