American Diva (10 page)

Jack hardly noticed—he was staring at Audrey, one hand on his hip. “Do you want to try that again and ask your question
nicely
?”

“I don’t have a question,
Rambo
, I have an
instruction
. You are supposed to be guarding me. For the last two hours, you have
not
guarded me, and therefore, everyone who works at Qwest Arena has been dropping in to say hi and ask me questions that I really don’t have time to answer. So I would appreciate it if you would just do what you are being paid to do and keep them away from me!”

“Good God, I don’t even know where to begin.”

“How about an apology and a promise you will do your job?”

“No apology,” he said, working to remain calm. “Let’s get one thing straight, Audrey. Your keeper hired me to provide security to you and your tour—not to be your personal goon. You have a dozen people around you who can answer the door for you.”

“What do you mean, my
keeper
?” she demanded, glossing right over his refusal to be her bouncer.

“Your boy—the one who tells you how to think and what to do.”

“Are you talking about
Lucas
?” she squealed incredulously.

For a woman as creative as Audrey LaRue, she sure was dense when it came to that guy. “Anyone else feeding you pills?”

She gaped at him in disbelief. For a moment, she looked as if she would hit him. Then something washed over her, some emotion he couldn’t really discern, but in the next moment, he saw the fire in those pretty green eyes.

He knew
that
emotion.
That
was full-bodied, potent female anger. One would think that Jack, having seen that look more times than he could possibly remember, might have learned a lesson or two. He hadn’t, obviously, because he smiled in the face of it.

“You’re
fired
!” she cried.

“Sorry, but you can’t fire me. I signed a contract and you don’t have the luxury of getting rid of me just because you don’t like me.”

“Oh, yeah?” she snapped, squaring off with him, her hands on a perfectly trim waist. “Do you honestly believe that I cannot
fire
you when I am the one who
hired
you?”

“No, you really can’t,” he said gleefully, feeling absurdly triumphant. “Why don’t you check that out with the chief? He can read the contract to you. And in the meantime, I’ve got a lot to do, so if you could just tell me if there is anything else besides needing a butler to answer your door so we can both get on with our jobs, I’d appreciate it.”

“Ohmigod!” she cried incredulously. “I’m sorry—I guess I thought that as some freak out there wants to kill me, my security guy might want to keep a close eye on who is waltzing into my dressing room every fifteen minutes! But hey, you don’t think you need to do that,” she said, waving her arms and head so heatedly that the Mickey Mouse ear balls on top of her head bounced. “You have so many more
important
things to do. Great, well, if I end up dead or—”

“You are not going to end up dead,” he said impatiently. “If you had asked me nicely, I would have gladly told you that everyone in here today has been checked out. The doors are secure. One of my guys is standing in your hallway watching who comes and goes, and there are police crawling around outside. You can relax.
Trust
me.”

That seemed to appease her somewhat.

“If you need something, or have a question about what we’re doing, all you had to do is ask.”

“
Thanks
,” she said, her voice full of sarcasm. “I didn’t know how to talk to my employees until you came along to show me.”

He smiled with false sympathy. “I know.”

“
Ohmigod
,” she muttered below her breath and turned sharply on her stiletto heel to go.

“Hey!” Jack said before she could march away.

She paused, tossed her head back and groaned to the ceiling, then spared him a glance over her shoulder.

He took in her outstanding figure once more, then smiled and said, “Nice shorts.”

“Shut.
Up
,” she said, and marched on.

And for the second time that day, Jack watched a very fine-looking woman walk away from him.

 

 

“Oh hey,” Courtney said when Audrey threw open the door of the dressing room and stalked inside. “Did you find him?” she asked as she quickly shoved a magazine beneath a bag at her feet.

Audrey walked over to Courtney’s bag and glanced down. She saw the distinctive top of an issue of
Inside Celebrity
peaking out. “Yeah, I found him,” she said irritably. She was furious with Jack, and furious with herself because she was actually
pleased
that he liked her shorts, which was just ridiculous because of
course
he liked her shorts;
all
guys liked her shorts. That was why she wore the shorts on stage, because her audience
liked
them.

Still, when he said he liked her shorts; she felt a funny tickle in her groin, the rat bastard. She couldn’t even remember the last time Lucas said he liked anything she wore. Well, never mind that—she was not going to spend the next two months with some guy in her employ who told her to ask nicely and then lectured her about her manners, or sleeping pills, or anything else.

She leaned down, picked up the magazine Courtney had tried to hide. “I thought we weren’t going to read those magazines anymore,” she snapped at Courtney, and threw it across the room, toward the lone trash can. It fell a few feet short.

Courtney blushed and glanced at her feet. “I’m sorry, Audrey. I just can’t stand it when I see something about you.” She looked up and attempted a smile.

Honestly, Audrey had the feeling this perky young woman was just waiting to plunge a knife in her back. Lucas said she was overly paranoid. Maybe so, but at the very least, she was fairly certain that Courtney couldn’t wait to read any bullshit written about Audrey.

But that was one battle she didn’t need at the moment and she turned away from Courtney, pausing to pet Bruno, who was hopping around her feet, wanting her attention. “I need you to get Lucas,” she said as she moved to her costumer, who was still waiting to adjust the outfit Audrey was wearing when she’d stormed out.

“Lucas is in a meeting.”

Audrey sighed to the ceiling. “I don’t care if he’s in Siberia. I need to talk to him.”

Courtney exchanged a look with Trystan, Audrey’s lead dancer, who was watching everything from a fake leather couch. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll get him.”

“
Thanks
,” Audrey snarled, and watched her slink out before turning to glare at Lucy.

“All right, let me pin the shorts,” Lucy said quickly.

“Please hurry,” Audrey said. “Trystan and I still need to rehearse the ‘Take Me’ number . . . right, Trystan?”

“Sure, Audrey,” Trystan said cheerfully.

Sure, Audrey
. God, how she wished everyone could be like Trystan.
Sure, Audrey. We know that you are debuting your show to the biggest audience you have ever played to tonight, and it would be nice if we could be supportive of you instead of telling you to ask your questions nicely
.

A moment later, as Lucy worked, Courtney returned with Lucas on her heels. Courtney deliberately picked up the magazine Audrey had thrown across the room and put it in the trash, and exchanged a look with Lucas.

He frowned. “What is it?” he asked Audrey as Trystan shut the door behind him.

“It’s the security guy,” Audrey said. “I want him fired.”

“
What?
” Lucas exclaimed, looking around at the others in the room. “Why? What happened?”

“
Nothing
happened. That is exactly the problem, Lucas. People have been dropping in all day, unannounced, asking me questions and interrupting me, and I thought he was supposed to be watching the door.”

Lucas looked at Courtney, who looked at the floor. He sighed and looked at Audrey in a way that said she would not get what she wanted.

“I want that guy
fired
,” she demanded again.

“Jesus, Audrey, we really don’t have time for this right now, do we?”

“Lucas! Some guy has been threatening my life! It was your idea to get security;
you
were the one who said I needed protection! So why don’t I have it?”

“You do have it. If you don’t want people coming in, Courtney will answer the door. Or Trystan. Or
anyone
, I don’t give a shit! But Jack has some slightly larger issues to tend to than your door!”

“I thought the issue was
me
, Lucas. You know,
my
tour,
my
life.”

He sighed again, then flashed a very patronizing smile. He moved to put his arms around her, but Audrey shrugged him off. Lucas was persistent, though, and finally got his arms around her and kissed her temple. “You’re right, baby, that is precisely the issue. But it takes a cast of thousands to protect you because you are such a huge star.” He kissed her again, on the top of her head, just like she’d seen him kiss his niece.

“I had a talk with Courtney. She will answer the door. So no more talk of firing Jack. We can’t just fire him anyway—there’s a contract.”

Oh hell
. She hated that Jack was right and, with a groan, pressed her forehead to Lucas’s shoulder.

“I think I know what is upsetting you. I think you are worried about the show. But don’t worry, baby. The show is going to be spectacular. There is some press here from L.A. Did you know that?”

“No,” she muttered.

“And guess what?” he said, dropping his arms from her. “I’ve got a little surprise for you tonight.”

“What?” she asked as he walked to the door.

“I’m not telling you—it’s a surprise.” He winked. “Just chill out, okay? No more throwing things at Courtney.”

“I
didn’t
throw anything at Courtney,” she said, glaring at her assistant.

“Baby,
please
calm down,” Lucas said. “I’ll check in on you later.” He reached for the door handle and glanced at Courtney. “Courtney . . . you will answer the door so people aren’t bothering Audrey, right?”

“Of course! Whatever she needs me to do,” she said brightly.

“Good. Thanks,” Lucas said, and with a smile, he opened the door.

“Lucas?” Audrey called after him.

He paused, glanced over his shoulder.

“What do you think of these shorts?”

He glanced at her shorts and shrugged. “They’re fine. Why?”

“No reason,” she said, and turned away from him, holding out her arms to indicate Lucy should continue her repair work.

They rehearsed the “Take Me” dance routine, a really difficult number, while Lucy held Bruno. Courtney could not be bothered, complaining she’d already had to walk the dog twice today. But someone had to hold him—Bruno could not see all the hopping about and not want to join in. It was precisely the reason Audrey did not want a dog.

They rehearsed until Trystan begged Audrey to stop so he would have something left for the show. So Audrey left and ran some vocal drills with her vocal coach, then had a light meal which she could scarcely eat. Two hours before show time, she went into makeup, where she was surrounded by people who transformed her into a pop star while she held Bruno.

When show time rolled around, she had forgotten about everything but her performance. As she walked down a dark and narrow corridor amid the electrical and sound equipment, Audrey realized she was nervous. This was a huge production, much bigger than anything she’d ever been involved with. There were three jumbotrons, eight costume changes, and a set that looked like something out of the movies. She thought she had gotten over the nerves that came with walking out onto a stage alone a long time ago, but they had come back with a vengeance tonight. It was just inconceivable to her that anyone would pay sixty-five dollars a seat to listen to her sing. It was even more inconceivable that twelve thousand people in Omaha alone would do that.

But they had, and as she waited below stage to make her entrance—rising up through smoke into blue light—she could hear the crowd whistling and stirring, anticipating her arrival. Fred, her stylist, was still futzing with her hair until she batted him away. She stood there alone now, listening to the last song Lucas would play, regretting that she had allowed him to sweet-talk her into opening for her—he really wasn’t that good, was he?

“Hey.”

Although there were a dozen technicians around her, the voice startled her. She turned to see Jack standing just beneath a big loop of cable. He was wearing a black shirt and faded Levi’s, and his pool blue eyes were amazingly luminous in the dark light.

“Just wanted to tell you to break a leg,” he said with a wink. “If you sing as good as you look, you will have them drooling all over the arena.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Thanks.”

He smiled, too; a warm, easy smile.

“Show time,” the stage manager whispered. “Your mic’d, so no talking.” He held up a flashlight to lead Audrey to the platform. Audrey picked up her guitar then turned around—but Jack was gone. She stepped through the cables and onto the platform, assuming her position as the band began to play a pretty melody. The platform Audrey was standing on shuddered into motion, and she felt herself being lifted up. She raised her head, looked at the lights swimming above her, and took a deep breath.

She was terrified. She was always a little terrified until she opened her mouth and the first note came out, clear and precise. Tonight, the terror rattled her bones.

But when she was lifted to the stage, and walked out into the smoke and lights to the deafening roar of the crowd as the smoke slowly cleared and they recognized her, she felt a current run through her like she had never experienced before. It was exhilarating, absolutely intoxicating.

“
Hello, Omaha!
” she shouted, and the roar of the crowd rattled the dome as the band quickened the beat. Audrey opened her mouth—and the first note came out clear, strong, and pitch-perfect.