shrugged. “I didn’t know the music business was so hard on women.” She stroked her fingers through his hair. “But I know now.”
“I didn’t realize it could get that bad. It couldn’t get any worse than that.”
Lou stared into his sympathetic eyes. “It was terrible, but that was only the start. I managed the band, but do you know how often people just assumed I was a groupie?” She watched him flush. “No matter how many people looked at my name underneath the songs, do you know how many people assumed they were Paolo’s?”
He lowered his head until it was resting on her knee. “Lou, I’m sorry.” He looked up at her. “How can I make it up to you?”
“Get me over it. Get me past it. Get me back on stage. I don’t care what it takes. Do it. Just do it.” Lou looked down at her hands. They were shaking with the rage at what had been done to her, with fury at herself for letting them win. She should have stood her ground. She should have stayed on that stage, dripping piss, and played until they loved her, until they begged for another song, just one last encore. She could have done it. She should have done it. She wanted to do it on American TV.
“Then play me a song,” Chris said softly.
Lou’s hands went to her guitar. Now. Do it now before you even think about it. She played the first notes of her angriest song and opened her mouth to sing. The words melted away into the back of her brain, irretrievable. Her fingers forgot the notes. Her hands dropped and so did her head. She squeezed her eyes tight against the angry jeering faces, smelled the reek of urine, felt it drip down her hair. It was useless. She’d never be able to get over this.
“Are you back there again? Are you reliving it?”
She nodded, closing her eyes to hold back the hot tears.
“And this happens every time you try to perform in front of someone else?”
She nodded again, then glanced up into his eyes.
He leaned back on his heels. “I’ve got an idea, Lou.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Might be kind of rough on you, though.”
“How rough?”
“Pretty damn rough. But I don’t think anything I do would make your performance anxiety any worse. And something drastic is called for, that’s for sure.”
He wasn’t wrong there. She nodded. “I’m in your hands, Chris. Let’s give your idea a try.” A shiver ran down her back. That was as close as she’d ever come to telling someone she trusted them.
He cocked his head to the side, his eyes mischievous. “Back in the day I had a wicked case of stage fright myself. I was sixteen, skinny as hell, with bad skin. No way I was gonna be able to get up on a stage and rock out the way I did in rehearsal. Jake wanted me to share frontman duties. He wanted full on Rock God. Pretty tall order for a shy, skinny, zit-faced kid. But he got me there. It was tough. I hated him for it—for a while at least—but it worked.”
He ran a finger down her cheek and touched her lips. “I don’t want you to hold a grudge against me, Lou.” He dropped his gaze to the floor and shrugged. “I really like you.”
Lou smiled. She could almost see the skinny kid with a spotty face and low self-esteem.
But then he looked up, smiling. And he was once again the mature, confident man she was falling in love with. She gasped. What on earth made her think that? She wasn’t… She couldn’t… She gave him a hard push and he fell backward onto his ass.
He climbed to his feet slowly. “Gonna be like that, are you?” He smiled wolfishly. “Well, that’s gonna make this easier.
Oops. Lou wished she hadn’t shoved him. She needed him to be kind and gentle. She was already feeling a bit fragile.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
She did.
“Play.”
She played the opening chords on her favorite ballad.
“No. Something angry.”
She paused, selected a song and put her hands in place. Nothing.
“Start playing. I’ll be back in a minute.”
He disappeared into the
“I didn’t realize it could get that bad. It couldn’t get any worse than that.”
Lou stared into his sympathetic eyes. “It was terrible, but that was only the start. I managed the band, but do you know how often people just assumed I was a groupie?” She watched him flush. “No matter how many people looked at my name underneath the songs, do you know how many people assumed they were Paolo’s?”
He lowered his head until it was resting on her knee. “Lou, I’m sorry.” He looked up at her. “How can I make it up to you?”
“Get me over it. Get me past it. Get me back on stage. I don’t care what it takes. Do it. Just do it.” Lou looked down at her hands. They were shaking with the rage at what had been done to her, with fury at herself for letting them win. She should have stood her ground. She should have stayed on that stage, dripping piss, and played until they loved her, until they begged for another song, just one last encore. She could have done it. She should have done it. She wanted to do it on American TV.
“Then play me a song,” Chris said softly.
Lou’s hands went to her guitar. Now. Do it now before you even think about it. She played the first notes of her angriest song and opened her mouth to sing. The words melted away into the back of her brain, irretrievable. Her fingers forgot the notes. Her hands dropped and so did her head. She squeezed her eyes tight against the angry jeering faces, smelled the reek of urine, felt it drip down her hair. It was useless. She’d never be able to get over this.
“Are you back there again? Are you reliving it?”
She nodded, closing her eyes to hold back the hot tears.
“And this happens every time you try to perform in front of someone else?”
She nodded again, then glanced up into his eyes.
He leaned back on his heels. “I’ve got an idea, Lou.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Might be kind of rough on you, though.”
“How rough?”
“Pretty damn rough. But I don’t think anything I do would make your performance anxiety any worse. And something drastic is called for, that’s for sure.”
He wasn’t wrong there. She nodded. “I’m in your hands, Chris. Let’s give your idea a try.” A shiver ran down her back. That was as close as she’d ever come to telling someone she trusted them.
He cocked his head to the side, his eyes mischievous. “Back in the day I had a wicked case of stage fright myself. I was sixteen, skinny as hell, with bad skin. No way I was gonna be able to get up on a stage and rock out the way I did in rehearsal. Jake wanted me to share frontman duties. He wanted full on Rock God. Pretty tall order for a shy, skinny, zit-faced kid. But he got me there. It was tough. I hated him for it—for a while at least—but it worked.”
He ran a finger down her cheek and touched her lips. “I don’t want you to hold a grudge against me, Lou.” He dropped his gaze to the floor and shrugged. “I really like you.”
Lou smiled. She could almost see the skinny kid with a spotty face and low self-esteem.
But then he looked up, smiling. And he was once again the mature, confident man she was falling in love with. She gasped. What on earth made her think that? She wasn’t… She couldn’t… She gave him a hard push and he fell backward onto his ass.
He climbed to his feet slowly. “Gonna be like that, are you?” He smiled wolfishly. “Well, that’s gonna make this easier.
Oops. Lou wished she hadn’t shoved him. She needed him to be kind and gentle. She was already feeling a bit fragile.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
She did.
“Play.”
She played the opening chords on her favorite ballad.
“No. Something angry.”
She paused, selected a song and put her hands in place. Nothing.
“Start playing. I’ll be back in a minute.”
He disappeared into the
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