Sixteen
“Okay, Tina,sweetheart, why don’t you climb up on the back seat of the bike?” The photographer flipped a hand at her:Up! Up!
“Her name is Tessa,” Henri growled. He glowered at Lucas, sending the mental message,Where the hell did you find this asshat?
Lucas replied with a raised brow, a reminder of Sebastian and his animated expressions. “Trust me. This guy rocks cover art.”
Henri steadied his Harley for Tessa to crawl up on the seat. The last person to sit there had been Seb. Goose bumps adorned Tessa’s arms. She must be freezing. If she’d been Henri’s sister, he’d insist she go put more clothes on. The leather miniskirt and bustier didn’t leave much to the imagination.
“Now, you.” The photographer gestured to Henri. “Stand in front of her, and grab the edge of the seat.”
“Here?” Henri placed his hand dead center, where his ass normally perched.
“No, further up.”
He slipped his palm north a few inches. “Here?”
“Higher.”
Henri ran out of driver’s butt real estate and moved up to the passenger seat. “Here?”
“Higher.”
He glanced up at a wide-eyed Tessa. “If you’re asking me to put my hand between her legs, I will not disrespect my drummer, or any other woman. She’s a serious musician, same as the rest of us, and I’ll treat her no differently.” Asshole. He sure as hell wouldn’t ask Henri to appear to fondle Michael, Jake, or Colton.
Behind him Jake whispered to Michael, “I’m not a serious musician. Are you a serious musician?”
Henri barked, “Jake, you aren’t helping.”
The photographer on the brink of losing a job didn’t know when to shut up. “Sex sells. Now, Tina, lean over. Show me some cleavage.”
“Lucas?” Henri glared at their manager, who shifted to focus one mean case of gimlet eye on the photographer. Time to cut their losses. If they got crappy cover art, at least it wouldn’t be exploitative.
“Yes?” Lucas gave his approval with a nod.
“Show this guy the way out. And get someone we can work with.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
Henri turned to his band. Michael shrugged out of a black leather jacket. “Man, that thing’s too damned hot.”
Jake attempted to scratch his leg through his leather pants. “Anybody got a ruler… or something?”
Tessa’s biker girl from Hell garb wore her instead of the other way around—what little bit there was. Fuck. They’d been made up to look like Hookers and Cocaine.Hell the fuck no. “Remember how you showed up for our recording session?” Time to take control.
Colton replied first. “Yeah, I came straight from the dojo and didn’t change, and fairy princess over there showed up glittery.” He hiked a thumb at Tessa.
“Hey!” Tessa tried to glare but her too-big hat fell down over her eyes.
Being eaten by her own clothes wasn’t a good look for her. Or the rest of the band. “Go home and dress exactly as you did before. And Tessa? Feel free to bring your wings.”
* * *
“I can’ttell you how thrilled I am to be here. I’m a big fan, Mr. Lafontaine. A big fan. Now, I want you to stand naturally, don’t over pose, but be comfortable. Tessa, this would work better if you climbed on the back seat.”
Uh-oh, not again. Tessa clutched Henri’s arm for support. Michael arranged a pair of gossamer blue wings behind her.
“Oh, yes! Perfect! Now Michael, over there. Stand behind the bike. Tessa, lean back towards him a bit, watch the wing. Raise your chin. Jake, over there.” The photographer pointed. “Now, Colton, crouch down in front. Adjust your belt. Perfect!” The guy flipped his fingers. “Henri, turn a touch to the right, please. Yeah, that’s it. I want to get the full pattern of your tattoos.” This photographer at least had taken the time to learn his clients’ names.
