Read Online In Harmony by Helena Newbury - Free Book Online
Authors: Helena Newbury
Tags: new adult romance
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asked.
It looked like no one wanted to speak. Clarissa finally took the plunge. “You’re right, it’s just…you’re very….”
I went cold inside. “Very what?”
“Exacting,” said Natasha.
“Intense,” said Clarissa.
“Occasionally a pain in the ass,” said Jasmine, and everyone gasped in shock. “About music, ” she said quickly.
“I think we just mean…the two of you are so different. It’s difficult to imagine you and him working together.”
It went very quiet.
“Hey, maybe it’ll be good for you,” said Jasmine brightly. “You can…you know. Learn from each other.”
I nodded politely, but I had no idea what she was talking about. What on earth could I learn from Connor Locke?
***
Apart from Flicker, I didn’t go to many bars. OK, that’s an exaggeration. I didn’t go to any bars.
Now, standing in the bitterly chill air outside The Final Curtain and watching the gum-chewing guy on the door look us up and down, I was starting to feel a long way out of my comfort zone. This is not what I do!
Seeing me hesitate, Clarissa and Natasha pressed in on either side of me, and Jasmine skipped up to the doorman and gave him a winning smile. He gave us another cursory glance and then pushed the door wide. The sounds of wailing guitars smacked us in the face, together with a woman’s haunting, soaring voice. We were bathed in golden light and the heat of dancing bodies.
I stepped inside.
***
It was bigger than I expected, but packed with so many people that the walls were sweating despite the cold outside. It was a mixture of college kids and blue collar workers, getting drunk on shots and beer and bouncing to the band playing on stage. I looked around in shock—there must have been a few hundred people there. I hadn’t realized Connor was playing places that big.
There was enough of a mixture of fashion that Natasha, Clarissa and Jasmine just about blended in. I, in my jeans, boots and sweatshirt, looked decidedly underdressed. And hot. I shrugged off my thick, winter coat, debated, then took off my sweatshirt and hung the whole bundle over a bar stool. That left me in the strappy top I’d been wearing underneath, which showed more skin than I was used to.
“Anyone see the target?” asked Jasmine. She was working her way through the 24 boxed set, in between episodes of CSI . Her dream role was a part in a police drama.
I searched the crowd. “No,” I said, worried. What if he didn’t show up? I looked at my watch—I needed him on board and in Harman’s office in less than twelve hours. Could he be in his dressing room? Did they even have dressing rooms, in a place like this?
“I’ll do a sweep,” Jasmine told us. “You three work the bar.” And she was gone into the crowd, male heads turning to follow her.
Clarissa sighed and led us off to the bar to get beers. I made the mistake of standing between them and that left me feeling short and graceless. They had confidence and style and legs that went on forever, and I had…what, exactly? Music. And that was in danger of being ripped away from me.
At that moment, the band finished their last track and the room erupted into applause. As they launched into their Facebook, Twitter and buy-our-music plug, I suddenly saw him waiting by the side of the stage.
He was in the same tight jeans he wore at Fenbrook, but he’d stripped down to a black vest. A cherry red electric guitar was slung around his neck, its varnish gleaming.
The band cleared the stage and he stepped on. There was polite applause, and then that Belfast twang I was getting to know came through the PA. “Thank you, thank you. I’m Connor Locke. This is called Ruth. ”
And then, for the first time ever, I heard him play.
When I first learned to drive a car, I was incredibly nervous. I had to think about every movement, run through checklists in my head to make sure I was braking when I should, checking the mirrors when I should. Years
It looked like no one wanted to speak. Clarissa finally took the plunge. “You’re right, it’s just…you’re very….”
I went cold inside. “Very what?”
“Exacting,” said Natasha.
“Intense,” said Clarissa.
“Occasionally a pain in the ass,” said Jasmine, and everyone gasped in shock. “About music, ” she said quickly.
“I think we just mean…the two of you are so different. It’s difficult to imagine you and him working together.”
It went very quiet.
“Hey, maybe it’ll be good for you,” said Jasmine brightly. “You can…you know. Learn from each other.”
I nodded politely, but I had no idea what she was talking about. What on earth could I learn from Connor Locke?
***
Apart from Flicker, I didn’t go to many bars. OK, that’s an exaggeration. I didn’t go to any bars.
Now, standing in the bitterly chill air outside The Final Curtain and watching the gum-chewing guy on the door look us up and down, I was starting to feel a long way out of my comfort zone. This is not what I do!
Seeing me hesitate, Clarissa and Natasha pressed in on either side of me, and Jasmine skipped up to the doorman and gave him a winning smile. He gave us another cursory glance and then pushed the door wide. The sounds of wailing guitars smacked us in the face, together with a woman’s haunting, soaring voice. We were bathed in golden light and the heat of dancing bodies.
I stepped inside.
***
It was bigger than I expected, but packed with so many people that the walls were sweating despite the cold outside. It was a mixture of college kids and blue collar workers, getting drunk on shots and beer and bouncing to the band playing on stage. I looked around in shock—there must have been a few hundred people there. I hadn’t realized Connor was playing places that big.
There was enough of a mixture of fashion that Natasha, Clarissa and Jasmine just about blended in. I, in my jeans, boots and sweatshirt, looked decidedly underdressed. And hot. I shrugged off my thick, winter coat, debated, then took off my sweatshirt and hung the whole bundle over a bar stool. That left me in the strappy top I’d been wearing underneath, which showed more skin than I was used to.
“Anyone see the target?” asked Jasmine. She was working her way through the 24 boxed set, in between episodes of CSI . Her dream role was a part in a police drama.
I searched the crowd. “No,” I said, worried. What if he didn’t show up? I looked at my watch—I needed him on board and in Harman’s office in less than twelve hours. Could he be in his dressing room? Did they even have dressing rooms, in a place like this?
“I’ll do a sweep,” Jasmine told us. “You three work the bar.” And she was gone into the crowd, male heads turning to follow her.
Clarissa sighed and led us off to the bar to get beers. I made the mistake of standing between them and that left me feeling short and graceless. They had confidence and style and legs that went on forever, and I had…what, exactly? Music. And that was in danger of being ripped away from me.
At that moment, the band finished their last track and the room erupted into applause. As they launched into their Facebook, Twitter and buy-our-music plug, I suddenly saw him waiting by the side of the stage.
He was in the same tight jeans he wore at Fenbrook, but he’d stripped down to a black vest. A cherry red electric guitar was slung around his neck, its varnish gleaming.
The band cleared the stage and he stepped on. There was polite applause, and then that Belfast twang I was getting to know came through the PA. “Thank you, thank you. I’m Connor Locke. This is called Ruth. ”
And then, for the first time ever, I heard him play.
When I first learned to drive a car, I was incredibly nervous. I had to think about every movement, run through checklists in my head to make sure I was braking when I should, checking the mirrors when I should. Years
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