Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
A crash sounded behind her, and the stairs jolted. Mallory clutched the railing, holding on with her free hand. The stairs skidded, and she hooked her arm around the rail. The remaining liquid in her glass spilled, cold and wet, over the back of her hand and onto the floor.
Oliver let out a curse, clinging to the handrail on the opposite side.
The screeching fans in front of them stumbled but hurried down the steps and into the standing room section, while a fan in a Tempo Rain hoodie pointed at the stage.
They all had their phones out, and each one aimed their camera at the stage.
A huge spotlight had fallen, center stage. The broken rigging that had held the lighting in place swung slowly, making a metallic creaking sound, warning them.
Mallory got a chill and the hairs on her arms raised. If that had happened during the performance? Dylan could have been hurt, or his band members, or these fans. Nightmare .
“I’ll deal with this.” Oliver sounded confident, as if this were merely a delayed meeting or a piece of missing paperwork. Calmness was a good talent.
Mallory held in her worry. “That’s really bad.”
“That’s why you need a company like Texk on your side.” He pointed a thumb to his chest. “You never know when the sky will fall.” He seemed to be making light of this, but that was how crisis management worked.
Mallory rubbed her arms. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Oliver pointed to the row of chairs. “Wait over there. Tell security you’re with me.”
She didn’t want to wait out here by herself. “I’ll catch back up with Jenny.” Mallory took a step toward the entrance they’d used to get backstage.
“Certainly.” Oliver looked like he wanted to protest, but he didn’t.
“Oliver.” Francois, surrounded by fans asking questions, waved for Oliver to join him. He seemed to be answering the fans’ queries by holding up his palms and shrugging. He even threw in an eye roll.
Oliver hissed out a breath between his teeth. “Wouldn’t be surprised if an influencer caused this for ratings.” He didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Security will scan their badges and investigate. Are you certain you don’t want to see this?”
Quite sure, Mallory nodded and eased away. “I’m glad no one was hurt.” She left him, and security let her back through to the backstage reception room.
Inside, the remaining groups of people mostly wore family and friends’ black lanyards. They stood in groups, chatting, drinking, flirting over the blasting thump of rock music. No one seemed to have realized what went down out on stage.
Sunny and her husband were still out on the balcony. Jenny stood at the punch bowl scooping a blue drink into a plastic cup. None of them seemed aware of the drama.
She shivered. She’d barely held onto her glass back on the stage. Plastic was a really good idea.
A hand circled her wrist. Dylan. “How was your tour with Ollie?” He said Oliver’s name with a bite.
The warmth of his hold reassured and grounded her in a way that was unexpected and welcome, even as the snark behind his words registered.
“Hi.” The level at which she wanted to hold Dylan’s hand was almost scary. Mallory breathed out. That was normal after being rattled. She smiled up at him, conveying a mixture of pleasure and relief.
“Who’s going to steal you away next?” Dylan sounded more jealous than playful.
Mallory faced him but gently disentangled her wrist from his hold, though she really wanted to cling to him. A hug would’ve been even better. “Still public,” she mouthed.
Dylan looked like he wanted to protest, which helped, but then his eyes glinted. “Come with me?”
She nodded and followed him past the closed door to the fan room, the smokers on the balcony, and into a hallway. The area muted the music and chatter from the meet-and-greet area.
“This leads to the dressing rooms, but they’re being packed up right now.”
The hallway’s semi-privacy created a small break for him after all the cameras and stares. “I don’t mind talking here.”
Being with him, even for this brief amount of time, had calmed her down. She wouldn’t tell him about the accident on the stage and add to his pressure. As Oliver had said, that was why they had Texk to handle venues and stressors.
Dylan lightly touched her wrist. “Sorry about your bracelet. I saw it fall. Want me to try to fix it?”
Her mood was off because of the crash, not the bracelet. But that had been a loss. Her wrist was bare and empty. Mallory shook her head. “Some things just can’t be fixed.” She winced. “Sorry. That was dark.”
“I get that.” Dylan sank to the concrete floor, his back against the wall, the position reminiscent of his pose on the Paris bridge.
Mallory sat beside him. “You okay?” She carefully placed her glass near the wall with a soft clink.
His eyes lit up. “I heard another song.”
“Yep, pretty good stereo system in there, as expected.”
Dylan tapped his temple. “A new one,” he whispered as if others could hear them. “A full one.”
“I’m happy for you.” Mallory let her sincere understanding show in her words. “Need a pen?” She patted her small purse. “Or do you hum into your phone? What’s your process to trap the muse?”
He cupped her hand, stopping her from opening her bag. “I wanted to tell you. Only you.”
“I’m honored.” Mallory brushed his hair out of his eyes so that she could fully see his expression. The silky strands made her want to thread her fingers through them. She resisted, gently lowered her cool fingers down the warmth of his jaw, and let her hand drop.
“The company goes on and on about the schedule.” Dylan made a slashing motion with a flattened hand. “Supply a song on this date, and the full album by this date. I’ve had silence.” He shook his head. “I’ve sent them nothing.”
Mallory caressed the inside of his wrist in small, soothing circles. “Pressure is the worst for muses. I have to relax to create. I’m glad this trip is working for you.”
A slow smile appeared on his lips. “In Paris, there were glimmers of sound. Now it’s full songs.” He looked relieved and delighted all at once.
Mallory knew the thrill of creating, and the delight when a piece worked. She felt the vicarious joy and was truly happy for him. Maybe her being here wasn’t adding to his burdens. She leaned her shoulder against his. “I love to hear that.”
“Love touring. Love music.” Dylan draped his arm around her, snuggling her closer, sounding pleased. “Love composing.”
Mallory paused the motion of her thumb, and Dylan jiggled her hand until she started up again. “They’re lucky to have you.”
Dylan patted her arm. “Lately, the music has been just beyond my reach—songs, concepts.” With his other hand, he laced their fingers together. “Then tonight, a whole song, start to finish, appeared in my head.” His lips twisted, but he was still smiling. “That’s not a whole album though. But it is enough to get Kane started with the lyrics.”
Mallory squeezed his hand. “You’ll get there. I promise.”
He looked down at her like she held the secrets to his muse. “How can you be so certain?”
She felt a similar loss before every new book. “Because you said the music is there, just beyond your reach. That means it’s there .” Mallory snuggled closer. “Believe yourself.”
“Is it like that for you?”
“Even when the muse is silent, giving no hints, a scene could suddenly pop into my head, as if the muse was waiting for the right opportunity to speak. Yours is actively whispering. You’re halfway there.”
“Will I get it all done?” He tensed and held very still. “In the time the band needs it to be?”
“It’s not all on you.” Mallory lowered her voice. “The others have your back.”
“Oliver wants us to listen to additional demos.”
“What do you think about that?”
“I’m greedy enough to want them all to be my tracks. But helping another composer is good too. But speaking practically, even a song fully delivered still has to be broken down and reworked.”
Mallory freed her hand from his and smoothed the frown between his brows with her thumb. “If the songs hide away from you for a while longer, you’ll help another artist. You’re an amazing musician with an ear for songs. That’s a talent too, even if you wait a while to do more of your own. You’ll write when you write.”
Dylan groaned. “I almost want you to pressure me right now.”
“Will that help?”
He nodded. “Try.”
From what she’d seen, Dylan took his work and schedule seriously. She honestly didn’t think he needed more pushing. If anything, he needed to lighten up. Even if he couldn’t, she didn’t want to burden him further. “Put those circles and lines on those rows and make music magic.” Mallory powered on her light stick, swirled it around, then made flicks around him.
Dylan chuckled. “Notes, bars, stanzas. Not magic.”
Her voice softened. “It’s definitely magic.” She clicked the light off and pointed toward the venue. “Time stood still out there. Your music took me away from the world and filled me with so many feelings.” The concert had been even better than that. “I’m not doing the performance justice. It was better than I can describe.”
Dylan nuzzled his lips against her ear. “Tell me about the feelings. Were they sexy? Sweet? Dirty?”
Mallory cupped his jaw. She moved her lips to his ear, breathing in his shower-clean scent. “Overwhelming. Thrilling. Moving. Sexy .”
Dylan groaned. “Tell me more.”
Footsteps sounded near the entry to the hallway.