Authors: Julia London

American Diva (34 page)

BOOK: American Diva

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“No,” she said petulantly. “I just want to go take a bath and try and do some writing.”

“Come on, baby, can’t you just spare a couple of minutes for your ex-boyfriend and a lousy cup of coffee?”

She looked up at him with big green eyes full of what he was certain was regret. “Okay,” she said with resignation. “But just an hour or so, Lucas. I have to work.”

“Just an hour,” he said, and kissed her temple. Audrey pulled back, but he wouldn’t let her go. If there was a god in his heaven, Jack Price was watching them now.

AROUND MEMPHIS Daily Memphis Stylewatch: Audrey LaRue

Stylewatch
scored a big fat whale this week when my editor and I spotted Audrey LaRue at an outdoor café, where the megastar was having coffee. She is in town for her
Frantic
tour, which, if press releases and press agents are to be believed, is playing to sold-out audiences across the U.S. Check it out—Ms. LaRue was stylin’ in Memphis.

But never mind that—as my editor (who is an all-American male by anyone’s measure) said, LaRue was
smoking hot
in her Juicy jeans. She wore some Weitzman sandals, a top that this blogger knew was vintage Chanel, and had the latest Coach bag designed to carry a BlackBerry and a dog. If anyone is interested, she had a cute little black-and-white dog and a no-fat latte. I know, I asked the guy at the counter. And okay, can I say Audrey couldn’t have been more gracious? She allowed us to get this fabulous picture. And oh yeah, her dog’s name is Bruno.

Tags:
arts
,
performance,
theater
Categories:
News/Current events
Comments (240)

Picks & Pans

(
People Magazine
) Audrey LaRue, who splashed onto the national music scene with her hit single,
Breakdown
, shows she has the chops with her new album,
Frantic
. Her versatility is inspiring—she’s rocking one moment, crooning tender love songs the next. The highlight of the LP is the title song, “Frantic,” which makes the listener frantic to get the CD.

DOWNLOAD THIS: “Frantic”

Twenty-six

There
was quite a lot of work to be done at the coliseum for security purposes. Jack, Ted, and company worked against the clock and the stage crew to make sure everything happened. It wasn’t until late afternoon that Jack could even get backstage to check on Audrey.

He could hear the band in a room at the end of the corridor, the music sounding strange without the benefit of amplifiers. He could also hear Audrey’s voice echoing down the hallway as he moved in that direction. She wasn’t singing—but her voice was raised. He instantly thought of Bonner, and assumed they were arguing.

As he closed in on the room it became obvious, judging by the timbre of her voice, that Audrey was upset. “
We go over this day after day, and every night, it’s the same thing—we completely screw up the bridge
.”

The bridge? Her remark was followed by muffled male voices, the strum of a guitar, and then Audrey again.

“
I am so sick of excuses! I don’t care how long we stay here, I don’t care if we are an hour late getting on stage, I want that bridge to be perfect tonight!
”

The last words were amplified when the door swung open and Courtney stepped out. The moment she saw Jack, she feigned staggering, a hand to her forehead. “It’s hell in there,” she said. “She’s such a bitch today—what did you do to her?” she asked, and smiled wickedly.

“How long is rehearsal?” Jack asked.

“Until they get the bridge perfect, didn’t you hear? Why so interested, Handsome? Gotta give Audrey a little something?” she asked, her gaze flicking to his crotch.

“Why so nosey, Hotpants? Jealous?”

Courtney laughed and casually drew a line with her finger down his chest. “I
am
. I wish you were as interested in all of us as you are in Audrey.”

He caught her hand when she reached his belt and held it away from him. “Have you ever heard of sexual harassment? Besides, I thought you and Ted were looking at white picket fences.”

“
Ted?
” She screwed up her face. “Did he say that? No way—I was just having fun.”

Ted hadn’t said anything, but Jack was fairly certain Ted didn’t feel like they were just having fun. “That’s really appealing, Courtney, sleeping with every guy on the job.”

“Shut up,” she said, frowning. “It’s at least as appealing as sleeping with a woman who is practically engaged,” she said, and walked on.

With a shake of his head, Jack stepped into the rehearsal room.

Audrey barely spared him a glance—she was bent over her guitar, working her way through the song. One of the guys in the band looked at Jack and rolled his eyes.

Jack stood to one side, listening to the rehearsal. He didn’t have a trained ear by any means, but even he knew Audrey was way off today. Her guitar sounded out of tune and her voice strained. When she at last called off rehearsal—with a diva-like admonishment that they better have their shit together for the show tonight—he stood back and waited until the room had emptied.

Only then did she glance up at him as she put her guitar in the case. “One of the stagehands will be by to pick this shit up,” she muttered. “So please just stay on that side of the room.”

Jack lifted a brow. “Great to see you, too.”

Audrey winced and sighed. “Sorry.”

“What’s up, sweet cheeks? You seem a little out of sorts today.”

“Out of
sorts
?” She snorted. “You have no idea.”

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” she said low.

Okay, she wasn’t in the mood to talk about her conversation with Lucas, clearly. But it wasn’t like they could have a casual dinner later and discuss their next steps, so Jack pressed on. “I can guess that it didn’t go so well with Lucas.”

“Ya
think
?”

“Did he do anything? Did he threaten you in anyway?”

“
No
,” she said, and frowned, as if that notion was out of the realm of possibility. “He reminded me of what we’d been to one another and how hard we had worked to get here, and how much he has done for me. And it was all true.”

She glanced at the floor, avoiding his gaze, and Jack held his breath a moment, waiting for her to tell him she’d made a huge mistake, and that the mistake was him. He realized, with gut-sinking surprise, that if she did say that, he would be devastated.

But Audrey didn’t tell him that. She looked up at him with green eyes filled with so much pain and confusion that he couldn’t stay on the other side of the room. He was instantly moving, crossing the room in three long strides and taking her in his arms, folding her in a protective embrace.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said tearfully into his collar. “I just feel so
bad
. It doesn’t seem fair somehow, and I feel so damn guilty!”

“I know,” Jack said. “So do I.”

“I don’t know what to
do
,” she said again.

He wanted to tell her what to do. He wanted to tell her that she was through with Bonner forever, and to just tell him so, to handle this like a man would handle it. But she wasn’t a man, and there was a part of him—the part that had actually learned something in the course of the relationships he’d had with women in his life—that told him Audrey had to do this on her own. No matter how wrong their beginning, if they had any hope of a future, she had to do this.

“Okay,” she said, pushing away from him. “Okay, I can’t do this now, Jack. I’ve got to get ready for the show.”

“Okay, sweet cheeks,” he said softly, and ran his hand over the crown of her head. “I know it’s tough . . . but we’ll get through this.”

“Yeah,” she said unconvincingly.

“When will I see you?”

She shook her head; tears glistened in her eyes. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know . . . as soon as I can get away, that’s all I can say. I
need
to see you, Jack, I need to be with you. I just don’t know how to do it without making a bigger mess of things than I already have.”

“Okay,” he said soothingly, and leaned down to kiss her, touching his lips to hers tenderly, cupping her face with his hand.

Audrey’s fingers curled around his wrist, clinging to him as she sagged against him for a moment. God, he wanted to sweep her up and take her away from here. But Audrey righted herself, and with a shaky smile, she pulled his hand from her face. “I have to go.” She stepped around him and walked out of the room.

Jack watched her with the uneasy feeling that it could be an eternity before he held her again.

Audrey went through hair and makeup preparation with the strange feeling she was standing outside of her body, watching herself. It didn’t help that Lucas was hovering about, completely supportive of her, tolerant of her mood, and asking her what she wanted to do about the perfume samples that had arrived for her to check out without actually telling her what to do about them. A first.

And he beamed when the two-dozen long-stemmed peach-colored roses he’d sent arrived. There was a time, back in Texas, when he would bring her a single peach rose after every gig. It was about all he could afford based on what they would make in their cut of the door, but it had been their special little thing. Her belly churned when she saw them.

“Remember?” he asked her softly.

“Of course. I wish you hadn’t sent them.”

He looked taken aback, but quickly smiled. “How could I not?” He took the card out and handed it to her. Audrey opened it and read the message he’d written:
Don’t give up on us
. She looked up at him; Lucas smiled again.

Audrey turned away.

This was the most attention Lucas had paid to her emotions in months, and Audrey wasn’t sure she was up for it. It felt suffocating. She knew what he was doing—he was trying to put her on a pedestal, to let her know that he may have fallen down on the job of worshipping her, but that he was going to change.

It was weird—Audrey had wanted a change in their relationship for so long that having him suddenly attempt to change felt extremely cloying. She didn’t want those things anymore. The time had come and gone, and she didn’t want them.

And she did not like the feeling she was being pandered to, which she suspected was exactly what Lucas was doing.

She didn’t find any refuge on stage, either. It seemed as if the concert was off by several beats all night. Audrey sounded sharp to her own ears, and even the audience, who were usually screaming for her, seemed more subdued than normal. The show went on forever, and by the time it finally ended—much to her great relief—she felt completely drained instead of the high she normally felt.

Which may have been the reason she changed the encore at the last minute. From the corner of her eye, she could see Lucas strapping on his guitar, preparing to walk out on stage and join her like he had since their first night. Not tonight. Audrey surprised herself and the band by playing an old ballad, “It’s Just Me.”

Lucas was not amused—she could feel his gaze burning through her as she sang.

Later, when they met up in the hospitality room, Audrey tried to avoid him, but it was useless. He would not be avoided.

“Good show,” he said, sidling up to her at the bar.

“Are you kidding? It sucked.”

“No, I’m not kidding,” he said, and pressed his lips together, waiting for her to speak.

“I made some changes,” she said, watching him. “What did you think?”

“What did I think?” Audrey knew Lucas well and could see the struggle in him to keep from lambasting her. “I thought it was great,” he said at last.

“Great,” she said, nodding. “Great.” She left him with that and went in search of Courtney, wanting a ride back to the hotel.

It was almost four in the morning when Lucas entered their suite. Audrey knew it—she could hardly sleep with everything on her mind, and she was mentally kicking herself for not having thought of separate rooms. She heard Lucas moving around the living area, then stumbling into the bedroom, kicking her bag in the dark in the process. He finally managed to make his way into the bathroom and shut the door. A few moments later, he came out and slipped into bed beside her.

Audrey squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to move or otherwise let him know she was awake. But he moved close, spooning her, and pressing his erection against her back. A sound of disgust rose up from her throat and she jumped up, slapping his arm from her as she half stood, half fell out of bed.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Lucas asked, his arms wide, his eyes full of drink.

“What are you
doing
?” she snapped angrily.

“What do you mean, what am I doing? I want to make love to my girl.”

BOOK: American Diva

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