Reckless Love: A Billionaire Baby Steamy Fantasy Multicultural Love Story Rockstar Romance by Imani King Page A
Authors: Imani King
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Maybe even two girls. Unbidden, a picture came into his mind of two Jasmines, but he quickly dismissed it. He didn't even know what to do with one Jasmine. She was altogether to threatening. No, bring a couple of nameless bimbos. That might be enough for him to forget her. And a bucket of Jack Daniels to go with it.
There was a palpable tension in the green room before the show. It was a good tension, a positive tension: the kind of tension that meant that the show was going to be full of energy. Nothing was worse than an opening show where the band wasn't excited about the concert.
Nigel was running around punching the air wildly, yelling out martial arts cries as he did so, barely missing certain valuable objects in the room, such as a Riff's face, for one.
"Piss off, you bugger," he said swatting Nigel away. But he had a smile on his face. "Why aren't practicing your chords, you should be practicing."
"I practiced all night, when you were asleep!" He continued to punch the air. "But I have to practice my fisticuffs, just in case Leo takes a swing at me again!" He grinned at Leo. "It's all in good fun mate, don't hit me!"
"I won't, I won't – as long as you behave!" Leo was doing deep knee bends, working in his skinny jeans to just the right amount of play. In a few minutes the makeup artist would be there, but for now the men's faces were the faces they had as boys, at least a little. Some of the innocence was left before the stage makeup went on. It wasn't overdone – just a little to look extra good in the monitors.
Reg was drumming on the back of a book, using it as a practice pad.
"Don't tire yourself out there," said Leo to both of them. "Save some of that energy for the show."
"We've got endless reserves of energy," scoffed Nigel. "It's you who has to worry, mooning around all day."
"Watch it, Nigel," said Colin. "You know how cranky he gets."
The door flew open, and Graham leaned in. "Are you lads ready? The show's supposed to start any minute. The opening band is just about finished, if you want to catch their last number from backstage." The band did as he said, grabbing their instruments and tumbling after him, as energetic as kittens, excited for the new American tour.
Leo hung back a little, gathering his energy. It was no easy feat to focus entire stadium on yourself, and make them feel as if they were you. That was the trick, really. To get them to believe in their heart that it was just you and they. The ones who really understood each other. The cool ones.
Nigel looked back at him. "Hurry up mate, this band doesn't sound half bad." They listened to the last verse of their last song, before hearing the crowd erupt in applause, but then it was something else.
"Or-i-gin! Or-i-gin!" chanted the crowd as one, gaining more and more power with each repetition.
Leo stood backstage arms open, welcoming it all in. This is what it was all about. This moment. This had to be better than anything. Didn't it?
Wasn't it?
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Quartet vs. Origin of Species in performance
The cellist was always the last to enter. Jasmine walked out on stage, trailing the two violinists and the violist. Her gown swooped behind her in a graceful gesture, as she settled herself on the artist bench. There was a buzz in the air, a sense of anticipation as the four women fine-tuned their instruments, and opened their music on the stands.
All eyes in the hall were on Carrie as she first held up her bow to the strings. With an almost imperceptible cue, she spurred the other musicians on to a rousing but perfectly controlled opening.
Jasmine fought to contain her excitement as well. She had to keep each note in the perfect range while still being alive and vital. Luckily for the quartet, the audience was listening so carefully, every nuance of their playing was audible, a true gift. When the audience listened like that, the hall was so silent – but the silence was anything but
There was a palpable tension in the green room before the show. It was a good tension, a positive tension: the kind of tension that meant that the show was going to be full of energy. Nothing was worse than an opening show where the band wasn't excited about the concert.
Nigel was running around punching the air wildly, yelling out martial arts cries as he did so, barely missing certain valuable objects in the room, such as a Riff's face, for one.
"Piss off, you bugger," he said swatting Nigel away. But he had a smile on his face. "Why aren't practicing your chords, you should be practicing."
"I practiced all night, when you were asleep!" He continued to punch the air. "But I have to practice my fisticuffs, just in case Leo takes a swing at me again!" He grinned at Leo. "It's all in good fun mate, don't hit me!"
"I won't, I won't – as long as you behave!" Leo was doing deep knee bends, working in his skinny jeans to just the right amount of play. In a few minutes the makeup artist would be there, but for now the men's faces were the faces they had as boys, at least a little. Some of the innocence was left before the stage makeup went on. It wasn't overdone – just a little to look extra good in the monitors.
Reg was drumming on the back of a book, using it as a practice pad.
"Don't tire yourself out there," said Leo to both of them. "Save some of that energy for the show."
"We've got endless reserves of energy," scoffed Nigel. "It's you who has to worry, mooning around all day."
"Watch it, Nigel," said Colin. "You know how cranky he gets."
The door flew open, and Graham leaned in. "Are you lads ready? The show's supposed to start any minute. The opening band is just about finished, if you want to catch their last number from backstage." The band did as he said, grabbing their instruments and tumbling after him, as energetic as kittens, excited for the new American tour.
Leo hung back a little, gathering his energy. It was no easy feat to focus entire stadium on yourself, and make them feel as if they were you. That was the trick, really. To get them to believe in their heart that it was just you and they. The ones who really understood each other. The cool ones.
Nigel looked back at him. "Hurry up mate, this band doesn't sound half bad." They listened to the last verse of their last song, before hearing the crowd erupt in applause, but then it was something else.
"Or-i-gin! Or-i-gin!" chanted the crowd as one, gaining more and more power with each repetition.
Leo stood backstage arms open, welcoming it all in. This is what it was all about. This moment. This had to be better than anything. Didn't it?
Wasn't it?
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Quartet vs. Origin of Species in performance
The cellist was always the last to enter. Jasmine walked out on stage, trailing the two violinists and the violist. Her gown swooped behind her in a graceful gesture, as she settled herself on the artist bench. There was a buzz in the air, a sense of anticipation as the four women fine-tuned their instruments, and opened their music on the stands.
All eyes in the hall were on Carrie as she first held up her bow to the strings. With an almost imperceptible cue, she spurred the other musicians on to a rousing but perfectly controlled opening.
Jasmine fought to contain her excitement as well. She had to keep each note in the perfect range while still being alive and vital. Luckily for the quartet, the audience was listening so carefully, every nuance of their playing was audible, a true gift. When the audience listened like that, the hall was so silent – but the silence was anything but
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