Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
When they’d hada band before, their rehearsals always took place in the studio at the back of their parents’ property, and there was no reason to change that now. Pres, Marley, and Hendrix had practically grown up in the place. Pres had learned how to mix music before he could even write. It felt like home in a way that no other place ever did.
They’d chosen not to have auditions there because it felt wrong to have a troop of unknown people through his parents’ backyard when they both preferred their privacy.
Not that there was a troop of people. He hadn’t lied to Cassie about that. Hartson’s Creek and the surrounding areas weren’t exactly full of keyboardists waiting for their big break.
Pres arrived at his parents’ house at seven. Delilah was clutching his hand as he walked into the rehearsal room. His mom had offered to watch her, but she’d insisted on coming in to say hello to her Uncle Marley and Alex first.
Although he suspected that the person she actually wanted to see was Cassie.
“Is she here?” Delilah asked, peering around as the door closed behind them.
Marley looked up from where he was adjusting his drum kit. “Who?”
“Cassie, silly.” She rolled her eyes. Damn, his daughter was getting sassy. He hated to think what she’d be like once she hit the teenage years.
“You calling me silly?” Marley asked, grinning because everybody knew he had the biggest soft spot for his niece.
Delilah looked at Pres. He lifted a brow at her.
“No,” she said.
“That’s funny, because I swear I heard you say it.” Marley stood and started walking over to her. And then he swooped her up into his arms and she giggled. “Am I silly now?” he asked her, swinging her through the air.
“No!” She was laughing louder, almost hiccupping.
“Am I now?” he asked, throwing her and catching her again.
“You’re not silly, you’re not silly.” Another hiccup laugh. “Put me down.”
He winked and swung her down to the floor. “She’ll be here in five minutes.”
“Can I wait, Daddy? Please?”
“Sure. Just try not to touch anything, okay?”
He was setting up the microphones when the door opened and Cassie walked in. She was wearing jeans and a black tank under a white shirt, but damn she knew how to rock them. The woman was so light on her feet she looked like she was dancing even when she was walking.
The tank was knotted at her midriff, revealing her tanned stomach. Something in him tightened.
He ignored it.
“Miss Cassie!” Delilah ran over to her, a huge smile pulling at her lips. “It’s me. Delilah. You’re playing with my daddy’s band.”
Cassie’s eyes met his. It felt like a fist was trying to punch his stomach.
“I know. I’m excited,” Cassie said to Delilah. “Do you play with the band, too?”
Delilah giggled. “No. I’m just allowed to listen.”
“For ten minutes. Then Grammy is taking you home to get ready for bed,” Pres reminded her.
“I could stay for the whole thing,” Delilah said. “And be your audience. I’ll give you my honest poninium.”
“Opinion,” he corrected, trying not to laugh at her hopeful expression. “And no, you can’t. You need your sleep.”
Knowing she was defeated, Delilah nodded.
“We set the keyboard up over there,” Marley said, nodding at the stand. “Come over and we’ll adjust it.”
For the next five minutes while they finished setting up, Delilah hung around Cassie, talking incessantly. He was impressed with how patient the woman was. Nodding and smiling at Delilah. Leaning down to let his kid whisper in her ear.
His stomach did that weird thing again. Maybe he just wasn’t used to seeing Delilah interacting with women.
Sure. Apart from your mom, your aunts, your cousins, her teachers at school…
Okay then. Maybe he just wasn’t used to watching her interact with women he didn’t know that well. Whatever. It didn’t matter. He was here to spend some time with his brother. Time that didn’t involve building houses or listening to customers bitch at him.
Quality, damn time.
“I think we’re ready.” Marley ambled over to the drum kit and settled himself on the seat, twirling his drumsticks between his fingers.
Pres glanced over at Cassie. She looked nervous as she studied the music on the keyboard stand. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip as she concentrated on the notes.
A second later, her gaze lifted, and she caught him looking.
“Okay?” he mouthed, feeling guilty that his daughter was monopolizing her time when she probably wanted to center herself.
She nodded, smiling. Marley had messaged her last night, to confirm everything and to ask what songs she knew best. He thought they’d start with those. Just practice their voices and their instruments together. Find their own beats. After that, they’d introduce her to their songs.
The first one was an easy one. “Shallow” by Lady Gaga. The song was apparently one of her favorites, according to Marley.
And no, he wasn’t annoyed that his brother and Cassie had struck up such an easy relationship. One where she freely admitted what music she liked to play and where her vocal range lay.
It was fine. More than fine, it was good. He was doing this for his brother, after all.
Marley counted them in, and Pres formed the chords, his fingers plucking the strings as he reached a rhythm. He was aware of her watching him as he leaned into the microphone, his thick voice rasping out the opening words.
He turned to face her, still singing. Her lips were parted, her eyes soft. Her fingers feathered over the keyboard as she kept time to the beat of his voice. In the background he could hear Alex strumming and Marley softly drumming, but his attention was on her.
He reached the end of the first verse, and she swallowed hard, as his guitar led her in. She took a deep breath, her gaze catching his.
And then she started singing, and he felt fucking tingles throughout his body.
She was good. Really good. Much better than she’d been at the audition. Maybe it was the acoustics of the rehearsal room, or maybe she wasn’t as nervous.
He wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, it was damn magic.
Everybody in the room was staring at her. Including his kid.
And when she reached the crescendo, she blasted it out. From the corner of his eye, he could see Delilah clap her hands together with delight. He turned to look at Marley, who was grinning from ear to ear.
And Alex was openly staring at her.
It was his turn to join in. He matched his voice to hers, an octave lower. Raspier, more achy. Their lips moved in sync, their eyes connecting again.
He’d forgotten how good this felt. How music made him feel like he was soaring.
The song ended, and the clapping began. He saw his mom standing next to Delilah. He hadn’t even noticed her come in.
But she was beaming at him. Delilah was jumping up and down. Marley was laughing.
And Christ, was he smiling? Yeah, he was. Or at least his cheeks were doing something unusual.
“Okay. I think she’ll do,” Marley said.
Truth was, she was probably too good for them. But that was her choice. If she wanted to slum it with the Hartson boys, so be it.
“Come on,” he said, not wanting to think about that too much. “Let’s play the next track.”
Twenty minutes later, Presley’s mom took Delilah home, much to the little girl’s disappointment. She’d run over to hug Cassie goodbye, and tell her how pretty her voice was, before Presley lifted her up, hugged her tight, and promised her he’d be home soon.
She still felt bad about the way she’d accused him of being a bad dad. Especially when anybody could see how much his daughter adored him.
And how he adored her right back.
It made the back of her neck feel hot as she watched him close his eyes and bury his face in his daughter’s hair, like she was the most precious thing in the world.
After another half an hour, Marley called a break. Alex ran out straight away, pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and stuffing one between his lips before he’d even made it out of the door. Marley climbed down from his seat behind the drums and grinned at her.
“Coffee, tea? Or we have beer?”
It turned out the studio had a kitchen that was fully stocked. She ended up getting water as Marley explained that the studio was mostly rented out nowadays. There were accommodations to the rear, and she listened as he reeled off a list of famous bands who’d recorded their albums in this building.
“Silver Thunder was made here?” she asked. “I never knew that.”
“My dad has a lot of connections. He produced that album.”
She hadn’t known that either. Sure, she’d worked out that their dad was THE Gray Hartson. But she had no idea he’d become a producer when he’d retired from recording and performing.
The door behind her swung open, and she felt a gust of cold air, making her shiver.
“Beer?” Marley asked, looking over her shoulder.
“Sure.” Pres nodded, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “Sorry. Just wanted to check that Mom and the kid are okay.”
Marley pulled a beer from the refrigerator, and she stepped back to let Presley pass, but the kitchen was small and he was big so his body still brushed against hers.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Pres glanced down at her. She was wearing sneakers, needing the comfort tonight, and he towered over her. He took the bottle from Marley, twisting the top off and lifting it to his lips.
His throat undulated as he swallowed a mouthful.
And then she saw the label on the bottle. “Non alcoholic?” she asked.
“Gotta drive, got a kid.” He shrugged.
“But he likes the taste of beer,” Marley said. “So this has to cut it.”
“Don’t we all like the taste of beer?” Alex asked, striding back in. She could smell the thick aroma of smoke on him.
Good thing he wasn’t a vocalist. His voice would be even raspier than Pres’.
He took his own beer – this one with alcohol in it – and popped the cap. For a moment they all stood there, not talking.
And then she and Presley started at once.
“Is Delilah…” That was her.
“I’m sorry Delilah…” And that one him.
She let out a little laugh. “Sorry. You go first.”
“I’m sorry she kept hanging around you. You must get enough of that during the day at work.”
Cassie blinked. “Not at all. She’s lovely. And so friendly. I imagine she’s like that with most people. Naturally outgoing.”
“No, not really. She can be pretty shy.” He shrugged, picking at the label on his bottle. “But thank you. Apparently she was talking about you the whole way home.”
“She’s very sweet.”
“Yeah, she is.” His eyes dropped to her mouth then back to her eyes again. Marley’s phone rang. He pulled it out and murmured something to the caller, walking past them and through the doorway, mouthing that he’d be right back.
“So Cassie,” Alex said, lifting his beer to his mouth. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
She tried not to laugh at the abrupt change in subject. “No.”
“You want one?”
She laughed.
“Leave the woman alone. We can’t afford to lose another keyboard player,” Presley said gruffly.
Oh, that was interesting. She turned to look at him. “What happened to the other keyboard player?” she asked him.
“Alex happened,” he said shortly.
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault,” Alex protested. “I can’t help it if all the women fall for me.”
“Yeah, but you could stop being an asshole to them and scaring them off,” Presley muttered. He looked at Cassie. “Seriously, avoid him.”
“You’re the asshole,” Alex muttered.
“Yep.” Presley didn’t look at all perturbed about that. “But I’m not the one trying to get it on with our new keyboard player.” He glanced at Cassie, who shifted awkwardly. “Sorry. Just ignore him. And me, for that matter.”
“Why should she ignore you?” Marley asked, walking back in. And just like that, the atmosphere lightened.
The three of them had a beat. Presley the gruff one, Alex the flirty one, Marley the peacemaker. She wondered where she fit in. If she fit in at all.
“It doesn’t matter.” Presley shrugged. “Are we ready to get back to rehearsal? I need to get home soon.”
“Sure.” Marley shot her a smile, and she smiled back. “Let’s go make some music.”