Girl vs. Boy Band Page 6

  “It didn’t,” said Aidan. “Ollie thinks his ideas are the only ones that count.”

  “That’s because you didn’t have any ideas,” Ollie shot back. “I’m a better writer than you are; why can’t you just admit it?”

  “I would if you ever wrote something decent.”

  “Never mind,” said Donna, holding up her hands in surrender. “The songs will come. Every songwriter I’ve ever worked with has had days when the music just doesn’t flow.” Spooning some mango salsa onto her plate, she added, “Let’s hope they come soon, though, as we’ve got studio time booked.”

  “Can’t we ever talk about something other than your work?” Lark grumbled.

  “Good idea,” Donna said. “Let’s get to know each other, shall we? I want to hear all about your personal lives back in England.”

  “Why?” asked Aidan, helping himself to a taco. “You’re just going to have your PR people gloss over all the dodgy parts, aren’t you?”

  Donna considered this. “I guess it depends on how dodgy the dodgy parts turn out to be.” She nodded toward Lark. “What sorts of things do you think your friends would want to know about the boys, honey?”

  Well, that was a no-brainer! The one thing every fan—boy or girl—always wanted to know was if their pop star idols were romantically involved, and if they were, with whom. And if they weren’t . . . well, that was the stuff daydreams were made of.

  “They’d want to know if any of y’all have girlfriends,” said Lark, biting into a spicy chunk of mahimahi.

  “Of course.” Donna eyed the boys. “So, do you? Aidan?”

  To Lark’s surprise, Aidan shot a death glare at Ollie and snarled, “Not anymore.”

  Ollie kept his eyes on his plate and said nothing.

  “How about you, Max?” Donna asked. “Anyone special in your life at the moment?”

  Max shrugged. “There was a girl from school I always sort of liked. We hung around together sometimes, but we never made it official. Her name’s Lizzie. She’s got red hair, big gray eyes. Clever, too. And she loves animals.”

  “Well, that explains what she sees in you,” teased Ollie.

  Max was so preoccupied in his memories of Lizzie that he didn’t even seem to register the insult. “Haven’t talked to her much since we got ‘discovered.’”

  He looked so homesick that Lark was reminded of the lyrics to her song. Home is where the heart is . . . that’s what people say.

  Now Donna turned her attention to Ollie. “And what about you, Mr. Wesley? Something tells me you’re quite the heartbreaker.”

  At that assessment, Aidan snorted. “Heartbreaker? Try backstabber.”

  Ollie gave him a look that was a cross between fury and regret. “Not now, mate. If you haven’t noticed, we’re trying to have a nice dinner.”

  “Well, I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.” Aidan narrowed his eyes and sprang up from the table, toppling the bowl of salsa.

  Lark watched in amazement as Aidan stormed off.

  So much for getting to know each other.

  Saturday morning dawned warm and sunny. Lark was relieved to find that the beauty of the day seemed to banish all of the tension from the night before. At breakfast, Max and Ollie made all sorts of quips about never seeing the sunshine in England.

  Even moody Aidan got in on it. “That explains why we’re all so pale and pasty looking.”

  “Speak for yourself,” joked Max.

  Donna, who always slept late on weekends, arrived in the kitchen just as the boys were finishing the enormous pile of pancakes Mrs. Fitzpatrick had prepared.

  “Big day, boys!” she announced. “You’ll be meeting your choreographer this morning. His name is Jasper Howell and he had a hand in nearly all the dances at this year’s Video Music Awards.”

  “Being he’s a choreographer, I would think he had a foot in them, too,” Ollie observed. “Maybe a couple of hips, a bum . . .” He gave his bottom a little shake.

  Lark laughed.

  “You know, I was planning to have you rehearse in the garage,” said Donna, sipping from a tall glass of orange juice. “But you could use a little color in your cheeks. I think I’ll have Jasper work with you outside instead.”

  Lark stopped laughing.

  “Outside? You mean by the swimming pool?”

  “Sure. There’s plenty of space for them to learn their dance moves on the patio.”

  “But Mama, I’ve invited Mimi over to swim.”

  “No worries,” said Ollie. “We aren’t learning water ballet. You’ll have the whole pool to yourselves.”

  Lark spun on her heel and headed for the stairs. The sense of panic was overwhelming. She was about to spend the entire day with LA’s most sought-after choreographer and three gorgeous teenage boys.

  And she was going to have to do it . . . in a bathing suit!

  Mimi arrived at eleven o’clock, wearing a cute terry cloth cover-up and hot-pink flip-flops.

  “What happened?” she asked, lifting her sunglasses to glance around Lark’s bedroom. “It looks like a Lycra factory exploded in here!”

  Lark was standing in front of her full-length mirror, studying herself with a critical eye. At the moment, she was wearing a navy-blue one-piece swimsuit with a V neckline and a scoop back. On the floor at her feet were two more bathing suits—another one-piece in bright orange and a red-and-white-striped tankini.

  “I’m running out of options,” said Lark, ducking into her enormous walk-in closet to strip off the navy-blue suit and try on another. “None of these look right!”

  “Please,” said Mimi. “How could any of them look wrong? You’ve got, like, the perfect figure. I’d sell my video camera to have that tiny little waist.”

  Lark popped out of the closet, this time clad in a retro-style two-piece, with a high-waisted bottom and a modest halter top. It was her last suit.

  “What do you think?” she said, looking over her shoulder to check out her backside in the mirror.

  “Nice bloomers,” said Mimi. “Very Marilyn Monroe.”

  Lark faced the mirror, glad to see that thanks to the cut of the suit, her belly button would not be making an appearance this afternoon. There was a great deal of bare back showing, but she could just about live with that.

  “Since when are you so weird about bathing suits?” asked Mimi, gathering up the discarded swimsuits and dumping them into a drawer.

  “I’m not weird, I’m just . . . conservative.”

  Mimi gave her a look.

  “Okay, I’m shy.” Lark sighed. “Very shy. And the idea of being so . . . um . . . well, exposed . . . in front of these boys—any boys, really—makes me extremely nervous.”

  Mimi laughed. “You are so old-fashioned! Must be a Tennessee thing. Now, c’mon, throw a hoodie and some sweatpants and maybe a blanket or two over that 1950s swimsuit of yours and introduce me to the band!”

  With that, Mimi shed her cover-up, revealing a tasteful bikini with a gold clasp and ruffled trim.

  “Take that, Tennessee.” She giggled.

  Grabbing her own cotton pool wrap, Lark followed her friend out of the room.

  For the next hour, Mimi had the spotlight and handled it like a pro. Lark couldn’t help but envy her friend’s easy assurance and friendly, confident manner. It was as if Mimi had known Max, Aidan, and Ollie all her life.

  Lark, on the other hand, got tongue-tied every time the conversation turned in her direction. She was back to feeling like a visitor in her own home.

  After telling the boys all about her aspirations to be a movie director, Mimi asked them to describe their musical style.

  “Pop with an alternative edge,” Ollie explained.

  “Rock with a nod to pop traditions,” said Max.

  Aidan said, “Loud. Our music’s loud.”

  Mimi breezily segued into their lives in London. She wanted to know all about the city, especially the fashion and the arts scene.

  “Cutting-edge,” said O
llie.

  “Always changing,” Max noted.

  “Loud,” said Aidan again.

  “I’d love to go to London someday,” Mimi said, throwing Lark a grin. “So many amazing movies were filmed there. I want to visit James Bond’s MI6 building, Sherlock Holmes’s Baker Street, Harry Potter’s Platform Nine and Three-Quarters . . .”

  “I’d be happy to show you the sights,” Ollie said. “London Bridge, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben . . .”

  “Who’s Big Ben?” Mimi asked. “A British rapper?”

  Max cracked up. Ollie tried to hide a chuckle. Aidan just rolled his eyes.

  “What?” asked Mimi.

  Before Lark could explain, Jasper arrived and it occurred to her that she had never seen a more perfect specimen of humanity.

  The A-list choreographer to the stars was young, about early twenties, and tall.

  No, make that super tall. Six four, or maybe even six five. Muscular, with broad shoulders, long legs, and eyes the color of chocolate. He moved with such masculine grace and swagger that even his walk could be considered an advanced-level dance move.

  “Wow,” whispered Mimi as Jasper strode across the pool area to greet them.

  “Hey, guys. I take it you’re Abbey Road.” Jasper gave the girls a friendly wave. “These your backup dancers?”

  “Yes!” cried Mimi.

  “No!” Lark blurted.

  The boys introduced themselves and explained that Donna thought it would be best to hold the dance class outside. Jasper, or Jas, as he preferred to be called, was completely cool with that. He gave them a quick rundown of his career, which included working with some of the biggest names in music.

  “Impressive,” said Mimi. “And did I mention . . . wow!”

  “So, let’s see what you guys got,” said Jas, looking around for a sound system and finding nothing. “Uh . . . gonna need some music.”

  “Right! I’ll just go get my speakers,” said Lark, happy to escape for even a moment. For the last sixty minutes, she’d been feeling self-conscious about everything from rubbing sunscreen on her legs to diving off the diving board. Right now she just needed five minutes to herself.

  Ten would be better.

  Invisibility would be best of all.

  Wrapping her cover-up around herself, she hurried across the patio and slipped through the sliding glass door into the house. Her mother was at the kitchen table, finishing up a phone call.

  “Jas is here,” Lark reported. “I’m getting my speakers so they can get started.”

  “Excellent,” said her mom. “But I’ve been thinking, honey. Maybe you and Mimi should leave the boys alone with Jasper for a bit. This is business, after all, and he might not want the band manager’s daughter and her friend hanging around. Would you mind?”

  Mind? It was like the answer to a prayer. Lark was just about to tell her mother this when Mimi burst into the kitchen.

  “Grab your dancing shoes, girlfriend!” she cried. “Jas says we can learn the dance routines with the boys!”

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  “We’ll start with a little freestyle to get warm,” said Jas, placing his iPod into the speaker dock and hitting Play.

  Ollie went first. He wasn’t a bad dancer, but he wasn’t what one would call a natural, either. He managed to keep time with the beat, but his moves were more athletic than graceful.

  Aidan stepped forward next. “What do we have to dance for, anyway?” he protested. “We aren’t some manufactured boy band. We’re real musicians. We play instruments.”

  “Donna wants us to be the whole glossy package,” Ollie reminded him. “The fans will like it. That means we’d better like it. So shut up and dance.”

  Aidan grumbled but did as he was told.

  It was immediately clear why he was against adding dancing to the act. He couldn’t stick to the beat and everything he did looked awkward and forced. Clearly, he would have trouble picking up Jasper’s complex hip-hop moves. When Aidan finished his ungainly performance, he glared around at the group, as though daring someone to make a negative comment.

  No one did.

  And then it was Max’s turn.

  The second he broke into his routine, Lark gasped. She marveled at the way he was able to move in perfect sync with the music, sliding, spinning, even throwing in a little pop and lock.

  “He’s incredible!” breathed Mimi. “God, I wish I had my camera!”

  Max finished with the backflip Lark remembered from their homemade music video, and everyone began to cheer.

  “Well done, Maxie!” said Ollie, clapping his bandmate on the shoulder.

  “Wow! But you’re lucky you didn’t bust your skull on those flagstones,” Aidan groaned, but underneath the words, Lark heard his respect.

  “We’ve got a lot of talent here,” said Jas. “How about we try a combination? Guys, line up. Max, let’s have you right here in front. Girls, come on, jump in. The boys need to get used to sharing the stage with backup dancers.”

  Mimi didn’t have to be asked twice. She planted herself right next to Ollie.

  Lark positioned herself a good three feet behind Aidan.

  Then Jasper broke down the combination for them, shouting out the steps and counting off the beats as he demonstrated. The boys followed his lead, as did Mimi and Lark. Ollie had some trouble with the turn at first, nearly tripping over his own feet, but he got it right on the second try.

  “Okay, from the beginning,” said Jas, reaching for the iPod. “Five, six, seven, eight . . .”

  The music began to thump, and three handsome Brits, one lifelong Angeleno, and a very nervous Tennessee transplant started to dance.

  “Yeah, baby!” said Jasper, snapping his fingers in time. “Yeah, that’s it. Aidan, loosen up, dude. Ollie, stay with the beat. Mimi, nice attitude, girl. I love it! Max, you’re doin’ great. And Lark . . . perfect!”

  Lark felt her cheeks burn, though whether it was from the praise, the exertion, or the hot midday sun, she couldn’t say.

  When they finished the combination, Jas gave them high fives all around, then told them to take a minute to catch their breath. Max offered to run inside and grab some water bottles for everyone.

  “That was so cool,” said Mimi, slipping a hair elastic from her wrist and wrangling her long mass of dark waves into a messy bun. “We’re taking a dance class with Jasper Howell! If Alessandra Drake could see us now, right?”

  Lark could think of nothing worse than being seen by Alessandra Drake, although she wondered if Teddy Reese would be impressed. After all, according to Jas, Lark’s dancing had been “perfect.”

  But not as perfect as Max’s, who’d returned from the kitchen and was handing her a chilled bottle of spring water.

  “Thanks, Max,” she said, twisting off the plastic cap and taking a long drink. “You’re a real great dancer. Did you take lessons?”

  “Nah. Lessons are expensive. I guess you’d say I’m self-taught.” He took a gulp from his own bottle. “I just wish my singing was as good as my dancing.”

  Jasper clapped his hands. “Let’s take it from the top, people.”

  The five dancers scrambled back into their lines and as the pounding beat filled the air again, they broke into their dance.

  “Lookin’ good,” Jas said. “Use those shoulders. That’s better. Energy, energy!”

  The first eight counts were flawless. Lark could feel her heart racing as she slid easily from one step to the next. Max was showing off a little, and Aidan was just about keeping up with him. Mimi was smiling and singing along.

  Then . . . it happened. And it happened fast! Ollie went into the turn with a little too much gusto. His ankle twisted beneath him and he went staggering into Aidan, who crashed into a chaise longue. Hard.

  Furious, Aidan righted himself from the overturned chair and spun to face Ollie. “You utter pillock! You clumsy idiot!”

  “Take it easy, mate. It was an accident!”

 
“Oh, it was, was it? Well, so’s this!” Aidan’s fist shot out and connected with Ollie’s cheekbone.

  “No!” cried Mimi. “Not the face!”

  Ollie winced and swung back at Aidan, who ducked, evading the punch.

  Lark felt herself being brushed aside as Jasper barreled past her to catch Aidan around the rib cage and yank him away from Ollie.

  “Get off of me!” Aidan demanded. “Let me go.”

  Lark watched with wide eyes as the choreographer hauled Aidan across the patio.

  “This is a dance class, not a street fight,” Jasper said through gritted teeth.

  “Bugger off!”

  There was a shout, followed by a splash, and the next thing Lark knew, Aidan was coming up for air, gasping and sputtering in the shallow end of the pool.

  “You just stay in there!” Jasper ordered, pointing his finger at the dripping Aidan. “Until you cool off.”

  Aidan gave him a wicked stare, but made no move toward the ladder.

  It took a second for Lark to realize she was trembling. Unlike the play fight that first night in the driveway, this scuffle had been real. After the conversation about girlfriends, Lark had realized that the tensions between Ollie and Aidan weren’t just down to jet lag or creative differences. There was definitely more to the story. Lark wondered if things were ever going to improve between these boys, or if the hostility between them was going to continue to escalate.

  How in the world was she going to stand it if it did?

  She turned to where Mimi was seated beside Ollie on a chaise, tenderly examining his bruised cheek. A slim trickle of blood was making its way from just beneath his eye to his chin.

  “I don’t think it needs stitches,” Mimi observed. “But it’s probably going to be black-and-blue for a while.”

  Lark looked from Ollie’s injured face to Aidan, who was now floating on his back in the deep end of the pool: his black shirt billowed out around him, making him look like some sort of evil sea creature.

  Then she turned to Jasper, who let out a long, disgusted rush of breath. Without a word, he headed for the house, presumably to tell Donna he was leaving and never coming back.