“One other thing,” Nigel said. “That photographer fromWorld of Rockwill be around tonight. She’s going to capture some photos of the performance and get some candid shots of you guys backstage. So be on your best behaviour after the show and take it easy on the booze.” He directed his eyes to RG. “RG, that one’s for you.”
This time the laughter was louder, and RG shrugged, a broad grin on his face.
“Rafe,” Sheila said, “the interview today went well. The magazine seems to like both you and Van and have requested time with HyperOctane and Sikorski, and with both of you, of course. I have a feeling they’re looking for something on the personal level, so it might be beneficial to play up the Rafe-Van angle.”
“What Rafe-Van angle? There is no angle.”
Sheila laughed and waved a hand, as if she hadn’t just suggested something that felt way too wrong to Rafe. “We know that, but they don’t. Van Cole has been voted the most eligible rock star of the year. He’s talented and popular, and way too easy on the eye. If you and he were to… I don’t know… maybe just hang out backstage, spend some time together outside of the performance venues, and if a photo or two was captured of you guys…” She waved her hand again, bangles clattering together as she left the rest up in the air.
“Of us what, Sheila? What would you have us do?”
Her smile fell away as she became all business. “Listen. I’ll be frank. HyperOctane needs all the publicity it can get, and you can’t get any better publicity than a romance with one of the most talked about rockers in the country. It’ll provide something for the front page and keep social media buzzing. Van is gorgeous, so surely that won’t be a problem. You’re only here for a couple of weeks so we can orchestrate a break-up when you head back home if need be.”
“How does that help Van?” Rafe asked. Surely Van wouldn’t go for it. “What’s in it for him? I mean he can’t be the most eligible bachelor if he’s attached, can he.”
“For Van and Sikorski, that’s old news. Those headlines were yesterday. Got to keep it fresh and relevant. Anyway, nothing has to happen tonight. We’ll talk more tomorrow. I know you want to focus on the show.”
Rafe glanced sideways to see a pale Parker, eyes fixed straight ahead on Sheila. They hadn’t had any real discussion about what the two of them were doing and what the future held. Even so, he didn’t want to take part in any sort of fake relationship and hoped Parker knew that.
“Okay. That’s it. Good luck, boys,” Nigel said. “Break a leg.”
With a few mumbles, they started to disperse.
Parker looked at Rafe, those green eyes beneath lowered brows radiating something Rafe couldn’t quite read. Then Parker turned and followed the others out the door, leaving Rafe no choice but to follow.
It was party central backstage. Music played, and the alcohol flowed. Gibbo threw an arm around his shoulders and handed him a beer. “One before the show’s not gonna hurt, mate. Get that into you.”
“Thanks, man.” Rafe tipped up the bottle and drank deeply. He scanned the room looking for Parker, finally finding him in front of a table laden with food and drinks. He crossed the room, ignoring the people who attempted to stop him on the way. They only had about forty-five minutes until show time, and he needed to make sure Parker was okay.
Parker had selected a bottle of water and was twisting the unopened bottle around in his hands. He looked up at Rafe’s approach, lip quirking in a small smile. “Hey.”
“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Rafe indicated the room with a jerk of his head.
“It’s… um… it’s….” Parker took a deep breath. “To be honest, it’s been a hell of a week so far. The interviews, the party, tonight’s gig.”
Rafe wanted to smooth away those worry lines creasing Parker’s brow.
“It can be a bit full on, but things will settle. We head out to Nevada tomorrow, play Rocktoberfest on the weekend, and then things’ll be a lot more laid-back. Maybe we can do some more sightseeing?”
“Sure. That’d be great.” Parker nodded, but his words sounded flat and didn’t hold any enthusiasm. This wasn’t the Parker he’d come to know over the past couple of weeks.
Rafe put his beer on the table. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “The stage fright getting the better of you?”
Parker slowly nodded.
“Come with me.” Rafe took him by the hand and led him to a sofa in the corner. They sat, and Rafe was reluctant to let go of Parker. He gave his hand a quick squeeze then let go, holding his hand out for the water bottle. When Parker handed it over, he unscrewed the top and passed it back. “Here, drink this.”
Parker tipped the bottle and gulped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he’d finished. “Thanks. I’ll be fine.”
“Yes, you will be. But hey, I’ve been doing some research into techniques for overcoming stage fright. You probably know most of them, but do you want to hear the ones I like?”
Parker’s brows drew together. “Sure?”
Rafe chuckled. “Once again, I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulled out his phone and opened his notes app. “Okay, here goes. Number one. Stop thinking about what can go wrong.” He raised his eyes to Parker. “It says, instead you need to focus on positive thoughts and things that make you happy. That means you need to focus on me.”
Parker’s eyes widened. “Okkaaay.”
“Number two. Practice ways to relax your body and your mind. It’s probably a bit late now, but we’ll get that one done before the next show. I’m recommending a nice long bubble bath and a back rub.” He winked. “This time with a happy ending.”
