* * *
“Aww… youlook so pur-day.” Michael laughed and skipped away from Henri’s swat. Damn. Somehow Tessa’s friend had managed to tame the locks hundreds of stylists had backed away from in fear. Granted, his “every hair for itself” ’do had been as much a part of his image as the black leather he’d worn while performing with his old band. He ran a hand over his much-shorter hair and stroked his now-smooth chin. Would Seb like it?
“It makes those sexy eyes of yours stand out, and we can finally see your face. Your female fans will slide right out of their chairs.” Tessa accepted Henri’s tag and swatted Michael for him, since she stood between the two. Strange. Michael didn’t duck Tessa’s hand, and he wore a strange smile while rubbing the spot she’d hit.
“Um… is that a good thing?” Oh shit. Had Henri said that aloud?
The guys trotted on ahead; Tessa sidled up beside him. “The men are gonna like it too.” She laughed and took off toward the rest of the band. Men in general he wasn’t worried about. Only one. Though Seb would surely approve of Henri’s hair tucked into a bag, on its way to Locks of Love to help a child with cancer.
They entered the mall together, Henri pulling a hat down over his head to hide. His long hair might no longer give him away, and he no longer stood out among his shorter-haired bandmates. Now they all blended in with the afternoon shoppers, with the exception of Jake, who claimed to be too old to “hang out at the mall.” With teenaged daughters, he probably spent enough time there without being dragged back by Henri and the crew.
Damn, but he felt so much lighter, and the beginnings of a headache faded the moments his hair fell to the floor. Tessa might have been on to something.
“Over here,” Tessa called, pressing her nose to the glass of a department store window. Inside the shop dwelled Goth Heaven.
“Not my taste.” No way was Henri struggling into skinny jeans to try to move onstage.
“Who said anything about you?” She wormed her way between Henri and the window to get through the door. Henri rolled his eyes and followed her inside. Best to keep her close. She had a tendency to wander off.
Twenty minutes later they emerged with a black lace hat and fingerless gloves. “Tessa, repeat after me: ‘I am not Sheila E.’”
“I’m not!” Her indignation gave way to a grin. Holy hell. She was gonna get carded at every club they played. “I’m Tessa E.!” She marched over to where the remaining band members waited on a bench.
“Oh my, God! I know you!” a teen girl squealed. Fuck no! Henri wanted to shop in peace. The fan charged right for…. Michael. “You’re Michael Lindley, aren’t you? Tell me, what’s Henri Lafontaine really like? He’s dreamy!”
Dreamy? Dreamy! Henri wasnotdreamy! That was so “boy band.”
Tessa flashed an “I told you so” smile.
What to do when a fan squealed and bounced two feet away, harassing a bandmate? Why, throw the bandmate to the wolves. Henri spun on his heel and made a quick escape.
After downing a hot dog and soda in the food court, he ventured into the main part of the mall again. He found Tessa at a perfume counter, bottle in hand. “Which do you like best, Acqua di Gio—” She sprayed a card and held it under his nose. “—or Burberry?” She repeated the process with the other fragrance.
“Both are nice, but aren’t they a bit masculine for you?” If rhyme or reason existed in her fashion sense, Henri hadn’t yet spotted a pattern.
“It’s for you, silly! I got you cleaned up, now to make you smell nice.”
Henri sniffed a few bottles. What did Sebastian wear?
“Well?” Tessa waited, hand on her hip.
“Let me think about it.” He shot toward the back of the store to text Seb in private.Buying cologne, which u like? Acqua di Gio or Burberry?Answer, answer, answer, answer!
His phone pinged almost immediately.Anything but Burberry.
“Acqua di Gio it is!” Tessa would be proud.
Henri glanced around to make sure of no witnesses, ripped off his hat, and took a few quick pictures of himself with his phone. The best one he sent via text and hoped Seb wouldn’t laugh. His phone chimed a moment later with a reply.You clean up nice.
Hey! He recalled the first time he’d met Sebastian, the “clean up before dinner” comment. Did he really used to look scruffy?
Maybe.
* * *
The studiowasn’t the most state of the art Henri’d ever been in, but it wasn’t the worst. At least he wasn’t starting at rock bottom again. Besides, if he and his newly acquired group couldn’t provide the goods, no amount of equipment would turn them into Grammy winners.
Lucas observed from the sound booth. A burly technician sat beside him. Henri addressed them both. “What we’re trying to create is a studio jam session effect. Nothing too structured.” Not for ‘Ice Inside.’If they even came close to their practice session, he’d be a happy man.
