For a moment, Luka seemed nonplussed. Then he snapped his fingers. “I’ve got an idea. It isn’t very late. Dmitri, call Kris and Jett and get them to meet us at the studio space. We’ll do it tonight. If Andre works out the way I think he will, he won’t have to even worry about the day job.”
Dmitri chuckled again at the way Andre’s eyes widened. However, he obediently pulled out his phone and called Jett, their bass player. “You have been summoned,” he told his bandmate, as he watched Luka still extolling the benefits of being in the band to a surprised Andre.
The drummer obviously wasn’t used to being swept along by a force of nature, but he’d soon learn. After all, Luka had picked up Dmitri and the rest of them, making them offers they literally couldn’t refuse. It looked like with the addition of Andre, the F-Holes would finally be complete — and Dmitri was definitely looking forward to getting to know his new bandmate better. Much, much better.
CHAPTER 1
“And there he is, finally! What happened, Dre? Did you oversleep?”
Andre rolled his eyes at Dmitri’s teasing words as he stepped into the F-Holes practice space. Trust his bandmate to twit him for being five minutes past the start time, especially when a quick glance around the room showed that Luka hadn’t even shown up yet. He waved at Kris and her fiancée, Jo, who were at the back of the room at the electronic keyboard, so engrossed in whatever they were discussing that they only vaguely acknowledged his arrival with distracted waves.
“No, it was traffic,” he replied, shrugging slightly as he made his way to the small coffee bar sitting along the far wall. He needed caffeine in the worst way after driving for over two hours to get to practice on time.
Dmitri trailed along after him, far too alert and chipper for the early hour, and honestly, far too appealing with his boyish smile and tousled blond hair. His eyes were the clear blue of a summer sky, and could widen with innocence or sparkle with wicked amusement with equally devastating effect — at least for Andre. “Traffic? You live like ten minutes away!”
Wincing internally, Andre decided he’d better come clean to avoid the third degree. Dmitri, for all that he was short and could easily assume the disarmingly guileless expression of a choirboy, had a mind like a steel trap, never missing the smallest detail. Andre should have known better than to leave a hole in his story that Dmitri could catch so easily. It didn’t help that being secretly attracted to his bandmate made it even harder, since if there was one person in the world he wanted to confide in, it was Dmitri.
“I went back to San Diego this weekend to see my folks.” It wasn’t a lie, even if it wasn’t the entire story. He just hoped that Dmitri wouldn’t get too nosy and start asking questions; as much as Andre liked and respected his bandmates, there were things that he just couldn’t let them find out about his life. He told himself again that he was just a private person, and he was doing his best to protect those he loved, but a guilty part of him whispered he was mostly protecting himself.
Fortunately, any further questioning was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the band, meaning Luka and Kit Davies along with Greg Allen, their manager. Luka was looking far more relaxed these days than he had four years ago, when he’d originally drafted Andre into the band. Andre was happy for him and Kit both, because he truly liked Luka, but he had to push down a little flare of envy when Kit leaned over and kissed Luka on the cheek before making his way back toward Jo and Kris. Some people were lucky enough to get to show their feelings, rather than having to hide them.
“Hey guys, short meeting before you get down to practice,” Greg said, drawing the attention of the group near the keyboard. With good-natured grumbling about meetings, everyone gathered around Greg, who was holding a small stack of papers.
“Don’t tell me the label wants to move the album release upagain,” Kris muttered.
“No, nothing like that.” Greg smiled ruefully, fully aware of how hard they were all working to get the album finished. Unfortunately, Headcrash, their label, had shortened their timetable by almost a month to slot the album into a more advantageous date between the new release from Sultana and the start of the F-Holes’ next tour. They hadn’t protestedtoomuch, since Luka, Kit, and Kris had already worked out most of the tracks. “This is definitely good news! You’ve been invited back to Rocktoberfest. They’re still figuring out the complete timetable for the event, but it’s looking like you’ll go on after Sultana and right before Queen Anne’s Revenge.”
Andre whooped in excitement, unable to help himself. It wasverygood news, since it meant that they were sandwiched between two heavy hitters, which could only help their steady climb up the charts. Given that it would be Sultana’s first appearance at Rocktoberfest, that meant there would be even more buzz that could only reflect positively on the F-Holes. Their band was on the verge of major stardom, and Andre could feel it in his bones; it would make the hard work and the sacrifices he and the others had made getting to this point all worth it.
Beside him, Dmitri launched into an impromptu victory dance. Andre found himself having to tear his gaze away from the way Dmitri’s hips moved, as he swiveled like he was Elvis Presley inJailhouse Rock. It was hard enough to keep Dmitri in the “friend zone” under normal circumstances, and almost impossible when he got up to the silly antics he was known for. If only the man weren’t so damned sexy and appealing, it wouldn’t be so hard to resist the urge to kiss him breathless. He looked at the others instead, trying to focus on them to keep himself from thinking how much he’d like to push Dmitri up against a wall and find out if the chemistry that seemed to always simmer between them would be as explosive as he imagined.
Kit was grinning from ear to ear. Considering he’d given up his position as Sultana’s bassist to be with Luka, it was good to see that he wasn’t jaded at being secondary to the band he’d been co-founder of, a band that continued to ride the highest part of the rock charts. “That’s great news! I guess we need to get this album finished, huh?”
“Damned straight,” Kris agreed, reaching down to where Jo was seated in her wheelchair to give her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “I’d rather not be worrying about finishing the album instead of having a honeymoon.” Their lead singer had gotten engaged to her photographer girlfriend during the band’s break after their tour had ended in December. Kris and Jo had their hearts set on a July wedding, and an earlier finish would give them a peaceful break before the band started its tour in August, as long as the album was in the can before their ceremony.
“Then I guess we’d better get to work.” Luka started to herd them all toward their instruments. “As soon as we have everything settled, we’ll get into the studio and get this recorded, and we can all have a chance torestbefore the tour.” He threw a heated smile toward Kit, who answered it in kind. Andre rolled his eyes in amusement, but resisted the urge to tease them.
“Come on, Sticks, you heard the man,” Dmitri said, giving Andre a playful punch to his upper arm.
Andre snorted, unable to resist reaching out and ruffling Dmitri’s hair, letting himself enjoy the feel of the soft strands sliding through his fingers. Dmitri grinned at him, and Andre had to turn away before he gave in and did something foolish. He was about to step up to his kit when he heard Greg say his name. Surprised, he turned toward their manager, who was holding out an envelope to him.
“I almost forgot this,” Greg said with a rueful smile. “It came to the corporate office for Headcrash, but was addressed to you.Probably some misdirected fan mail, but since it has your name on it, they are required to pass it directly to you.”
“Thanks.” Andre accepted the envelope. The band had an official fan site with a PO box address for security, and a service screened all the mail for them and responded. It was useful, since while most fans just wanted to connect with their favorite musicians, there were cases where people would write begging for money, offering business deals, or sometimes other, far less savory propositions. A glance at the front showed it was hand-addressed, but he didn’t recognize the handwriting or the return address, so he shrugged and tucked it into his back pocket to deal with later.
The band was soon deep into their practice session, working out timing, parts, and additional riffs they wanted to put into the album songs. This type of session was intense, but it also had an element of fun, especially when someone came up with an idea that spurred the others on. This sometimes even led to inspiration for entirely new songs or new riffs on existing ones. Not everything would make it onto the album, of course, but often they kept ideas to use in live shows, especially when they were more theatrical than musical.
It was at least ten hours before Luka finally called a halt, for which Andre was very grateful. His arms were tired, and even though they’d had lunch catered in, he was starving and wanted to rest his ass on something that wasn’t a drum throne.
“Want to grab some dinner?”
Andre glanced over to see Dmitri carefully putting away his electric cello in its case. The words were said casually, and Dmitri wasn’t even looking at him, so Andre tried not to read too much into it, especially since there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. Most times in the past, it had been Dmitri, Andre, and Jett hanging out after practice, but that was back before Jett had left for Sultana. So the invitation wasn’tsurprising at all, but now it was just the two of them. Kris and Jo spent their time together, and Luka and Kit had a place out in the suburbs, so all four of them usually left as soon as practice was over.
Still, he wanted to accept. They were friends, after all, and besides, Dmitri wasn’t interested in him that way, not that it would matter if he was, since there wasn’t a damned thing Andre could or would do about it. There were complicated reasons he wasn’t “out” to his family, and he wasn’t about to drag anyone into the closet with him.
Still, he hated feeling like he had to keep his professional and personal lives so separated, but at least here in LA, he had some space. “Sure, why not?” he replied easily. “Have any place in mind?”
“Saxon’s?” The restaurant/bar was close by, and it had great wings. Considering it was the middle of the week, it shouldn’t be too crowded, which suited Andre fine.
