Girl vs. Boy Band Page 7

  Only Max seemed unbothered by the madness. He stood patiently beside the speakers, looking as though nothing unusual had happened. When Lark caught his eye, he gave her a wry smile.

  “All right, then,” he said, reaching for the iPod’s Play button. “Shall we try it again from the top?”

  Somehow Donna was able to convince Jas to give the boys a second chance. They would meet again on Monday, this time at his dance studio, where he thought he might be able to exert a little more control.

  Ollie had recovered from the fight quickly enough. Lark realized she liked this about him; he was generally an upbeat kid and didn’t seem the type to wallow or sweat the small stuff.

  Aidan, on the other hand, was turning out to be a sulker of the first order. After Jas left, he climbed out of the pool, dripped his way through the house, and stayed in his room right through lunch.

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick carried a tray containing a big, leafy Caesar salad, and five frosty glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade to the wrought iron patio table. Crusty French bread and whipped butter came with the meal. It looked wonderful, but Lark wasn’t in the mood.

  “Come on,” she said to Mimi. “Let’s go to your house and see if we can talk your mom into making us her famous empanadas, then we can watch a movie.”

  “Are you nuts?” said Mimi, her eyes zeroing in on the empty chair next to Ollie. “I’m not going anywhere. What if something happens to Oliver while I’m gone?”

  “Meems, it’s a bruise. A few little scratches.”

  “Scratches turn into infections. Infections turn into comas! What if he died while I was off eating empanadas? I’d never forgive myself.”

  “Aren’t you exaggerating just a bit?” said Lark. But she knew it was already too late. Mimi had a crush. Lark could tell because for some reason, whenever Meems really liked a boy, she started referring to him by his full first name.

  “Besides, your mom said they were going to rehearse their new song after lunch. Oliver’s singing lead vocals. I have to stay and hear it.”

  “Right,” sighed Lark. “Because things went so well during dance rehearsal . . .”

  But since Mimi was determined not to leave Ollie’s—make that Oliver’s—side, Lark dropped into a chair and helped herself to some salad. With any luck, she’d develop some freak allergy to anchovies, break out in a horrible rash, and be forced to douse herself in Calamine lotion and spend the rest of the day in bed.

  No such luck. The Caesar salad was delicious and then it was time for Abbey Road to sing.

  They made their way up to the room formerly known as Lark’s music studio. Aidan appeared in dry clothing (all black—big surprise) and glared at Ollie the whole time. The boys’ instruments had been arranged and each boy took his place: Aidan at the electronic keyboard, Max behind his drums. Ollie picked up his Stratocaster as tenderly as if it were a newborn infant, which Lark fully understood.

  She dropped cross-legged onto the carpet beside a dreamy-eyed Mimi, while Donna perched on the arm of the big chair.

  First they played the song through once. It was called “Promises to Keep,” and the composition was more sophisticated than Lark would have expected. But it was also infectious and fun. It was exactly the kind of tune that tween and teenage girls would adore—it would get stuck in their heads and they’d sing it off-key at the tops of their lungs on long bus rides to basketball games and cheerleading competitions.

  Simply put, it had all the makings of a hit.

  When it came time to try it with the lyrics, things took a turn for the worse.

  Harmonizing, it seemed, didn’t come easily to Max. He required a lot of coaching from Ollie, who was patient and polite. Aidan, though, grunted and rolled his eyes every time Max’s attempts fell short.

  “Max, maybe we should leave it alone for now,” Donna suggested. “Ollie, you sing lead vocals, as we discussed, and Aidan, you sing harmony.”

  Max nodded, but Lark could see that he was disappointed. Maybe even a little embarrassed.

  “Why does Ollie always get to sing lead?” Aidan demanded. “My voice is just as good as his. Why can’t I sing lead?”

  “Um, let’s see . . . ,” said Max, playing dumb. “Maybe it’s because you look like the living dead, and fans generally don’t respond well to love songs sung by vampires?”

  “Shut up, Max,” Aidan spat. “You can barely hold a tune. You ruined the harmonies.”

  “You know I’ll get them eventually,” Max shot back. “Just takes me a bit longer, that’s all.”

  “Maybe we’re tired of waiting for you to catch up!”

  “Back off, Aidan,” Ollie warned. “You know the only reason you’re in this band is because of me! Don’t make me regret inviting you to join!”

  “That’s right,” Aidan sneered. “You invited me. But you settled for Max.”

  “Keep talking, Aidan,” Max warned, “and you might find yourself with a drumstick somewhere you don’t want it.”

  To Lark’s horror, Aidan charged at Max and caught him in a headlock. But Max was agile; he spun out of it, and dodged Aidan’s rocketing fist. Missing his target, Aidan stumbled. He slammed face-first to the floor, his nose hitting with a sickening crunch.

  Blood began to gush.

  “Oooff!” said Ollie, cringing. “Right in the beak!”

  Donna sprung up from the chair and quickly guided Aidan to the bathroom, frantically blathering about having to postpone photo shoots. A moment later she returned, clutching her car keys and looking harried. Aidan stood beside her with his head tilted back and a blood-soaked towel pressed to his dripping nose.

  “We’re going to the ER. I don’t think it’s broken, but better safe than sorry.”

  “I have an idea,” said Ollie. “While you’re at the hospital, why don’t you see if you can have Aidan’s bad attitude surgically removed?”

  Lark had to bite back a giggle. Mimi laughed out loud.

  Donna gave them each a sharp look. “This isn’t funny,” she scolded. “Lark, clean up, please. And Ollie, Max . . .”

  Aidan let out a groan of pain as she nudged him toward the stairs.

  “Keep working on those harmonies.”

  “Is she serious?” Ollie asked. “Here we are in the midst of violence and bloodshed, and she’s thinking about videos and harmonies?”

  “That’s Mom,” said Lark. “Business first. Always.”

  Ollie shook his head. “My mum would’ve been hysterical if she’d seen them scrapping like that. Which reminds me, I should probably ring her.” He turned to Max. “Mind if I cut out for a bit?”

  Max shook his head. “Nah, go ahead. And say hi to your mum for me.”

  Mimi got out her video camera. “Is it okay if I do some filming? There’s more drama at your rehearsals than there is in an episode of a soap opera.”

  “No problem.” Ollie gave Mimi his most charming smile. “You film me, if you like. For the archives.”

  Mimi was so delighted, she practically floated out of the room as she followed Ollie to the patio.

  When they were gone, Max let out a heavy sigh. “Aidan wasn’t too far off the mark, you know. I did mess up the harmonies.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Lark said, but it was halfhearted at best. He had struggled. So she summoned her courage and said, “If you like, I could help you work on them.”

  “That’d be brilliant,” said Max. “Thanks.”

  They spent the next twenty minutes at the keyboard and Lark loved every minute of it. After the first few seconds, she wasn’t nervous at all. She knew this was good practice for working with Teddy, which made it that much better. She instructed Max with patience, teaching him how to build up musical chords by blending their two voices. She used the same song her dad had used to teach her how to sing harmony, years ago—Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling In Love.”

  Max didn’t once complain. He worked hard, and sounded better every time he sang it.

  “I think you’ve got it,�
�� Lark said at last, just as Mimi came into the room.

  “That sounded amazing. Maybe you should suggest that song to Teddy!” Mimi said with a knowing smile.

  “Teddy?” Max gave her a sideways look and raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Teddy?”

  “Um . . .” Lark could have died! “Nobody.”

  “C’mon now,” Max coaxed, smiling. “Have those lovey-dovey lyrics got you thinking about someone special?”

  Lark shook her head emphatically, but of course Max was right. The line “Take my hand” had her imagining her own fingers entwined in Teddy’s.

  “Why not tell him?” said Mimi. “Maybe he can give you some advice.”

  Lark hesitated, but it suddenly occurred to her that it might feel good to share this with someone besides Mimi, perhaps even get a boy’s perspective.

  “Okay,” said Mimi, reading Lark’s mind, “so there’s this boy at school . . . he’s a year older.”

  She was interrupted by shouts of excitement coming from the pool area.

  “I guess Mom and Aidan are back,” said Lark, getting up from the piano and looking out the window.

  She was right. They were back.

  And they weren’t alone.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHT

  “Is that . . . ?” asked Max, joining Lark at the window and going wide-eyed at the sight of the girl standing there on the pool patio.

  It was Lark’s turn to smile knowingly. “None other,” she said.

  “You never told me you know her!” said Mimi.

  “You never asked,” said Lark. “Wanna meet her?”

  “Uh . . . yeah!” said Max.

  They hurried outside, where Donna was introducing Aidan and Ollie to their surprise guest—Holly Rose, who just happened to be one of pop music’s brightest new stars. Mimi had already whipped out her camera and was filming the whole scene. Ollie looked utterly enamored of the willowy blond singer and Aidan was staring like a smitten schoolboy.

  It was still hard for Lark to wrap her head around the fact that the girl who used to visit their house in Nashville wearing cut-off jeans and vintage Oakridge Boys concert T-shirts was now the hottest thing in pop music. Donna and Jackson had discovered Holly Rose singing in a church choir five years earlier; she was just eighteen years old then, but her talent and sparkle were undeniable.

  The small-town beauty had been thrilled when Lark’s parents had approached her to make their business pitch: Jackson would coach Holly for a short period and when she was ready, Donna would bring her to the execs at Rebel Yell records to audition. After a mere three weeks of rehearsing on the Campbells’ back deck, Holly was brought to Rebel Yell to perform. She was signed immediately, and despite the relative obscurity of the record company that released it, her first album went to the top of the country charts.

  When Donna started her own company in LA, Holly proved her loyalty by ending her contract with Rebel Yell and signing with Lotus. Over the past year she’d crossed over from country to pop, with a string of hits.

  It occurred to Lark now that Holly’s success might be the only thing keeping her mother’s company afloat. Still, one high-profile singer wasn’t enough to support an entire business. Lark was suddenly filled with a sense of just how important it was for Abbey Road to make it big. But she didn’t want to think about that right now.

  “Holly!” cried Lark, running to greet her old friend with open arms. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

  “Well, would ya look at you!” cried the superstar, catching Lark in a hug. “My word, I think you’ve grown six inches since I saw you last!”

  “Only three.” Lark beamed. “Well, maybe three and a half. But what are you doin’ in Los Angeles?”

  “Your mama flew me out. She wants me to record my new single here in LA. I just came by to play it for y’all, maybe see whatcha think of it.” She gave Lark a wink and lowered her voice so that only Lark could hear. “Your daddy tells me your songwriting’s getting real good, so I thought maybe you might give me a few pointers.”

  Lark felt a swell of gratitude; her father had remembered to tell Holly that Lark preferred to keep her songwriting secret, and Holly was respecting that.

  “Lark, that’s amazing!” Mimi whispered, aiming the camera to zoom in on Lark’s beaming face. “Holly Rose wants you to help her with her song.”

  “That’s right!” Holly laughed. “And girl, you must be getting good if you’ve got your own videographer!”

  “This is my best friend, Mimi,” said Lark. “Meems, meet Holly. She used to babysit for me!”

  “Shut. Up!” said Mimi.

  “No, really. Before she hit the big time, she used to take me to the park to go on the swings and—”

  “I didn’t mean ‘shut up,’ like I don’t believe it,” Mimi interrupted. “I meant ‘shut up,’ like actually shut up . . . I’m filming! This is great stuff. Big Nashville star meets up-and-coming British band. It could go viral!”

  Max cleared his throat loudly.

  “Oh! And this is Max,” said Lark, continuing with the introductions. “He’s in the band.”

  “Abbey Road,” said Holly with a nod. “Yes, ma’am. Donna’s told me all about these boys. Right down to that little brawl they just had.” She grinned at Aidan. “No broken bones, I hope?”

  “No, thank goodness,” said Lark’s mom.

  Lark supposed this boded well for the band’s imminent photo shoot. Black eyes and a bandaged nose wouldn’t be an alluring look for an album cover.

  Now Holly smiled around at the three starstruck boys. “It’ll be a real pleasure sharing a label with you three.”

  “I wouldn’t mind sharing more than that with you,” said Aidan, leering at the pop star.

  “Show a little class, Aidan,” Ollie hissed.

  Aidan ignored him and continued to make eyes at Holly, which was actually quite amusing, since he was forced to do it from behind the giant ice pack he had pressed to his nose.

  “So let’s hear the new song, Holl,” said Donna. “The demo you sent me sounded great, but there’s nothing like a live performance.”

  Only now did Lark notice the familiar old guitar case propped against the patio table. She knew it had once belonged to Holly’s grandmother, who had taught Holly to play guitar, just like Jackson had taught Lark.

  Holly took a seat on one of the chaise longues and began to play. To Lark’s surprise, the song wasn’t the feisty, up-tempo style of Holly’s last few releases. This song was a ballad and Holly poured not only her voice but her soul into it as well. The lyrics were haunting and heartbreaking; Holly sang of missed chances, cherished memories, and lonely nights. Lark hazarded a glance at her mom during the chorus and was surprised to see a tear on her cheek. Was she thinking about Jackson, and all that they’d lost?

  When the song ended, everyone applauded, but Holly’s eyes went straight to Lark. “What do you think?”

  Lark smiled. “I think it’s awesome, but there’re a few places where you could tweak the lyrics. It will sound even better with some harmonies, too.”

  “Please!” said Donna as she stood and headed into the house. “Don’t say ‘harmonies.’”

  Holly patted the chaise longue for Lark to join her. “Well, let’s get to work. I say we order in some barbeque and make an evening of it. Boys, let me know your thoughts.”

  When Aidan opened his mouth to make what was sure to be an off-color comment, Lark shocked herself by cutting him off.

  “We don’t need to hear what dirty thoughts you’re thinking, thank you very much,” she warned.

  They worked on the song until the sky turned a soft twilight purple, with Lark, the boys, and even Mimi throwing out suggestions. Rather than ordering in, Donna had Mrs. Fitzpatrick grill enormous rib eye steaks with roasted potatoes on the side.

  After dinner, when Holly was finally satisfied with the changes to her song, they kept the music going by kicking off a good old-fashioned jam session. The boys ran upstai
rs and returned with their instruments. Ollie had his beloved guitar. Aidan had his keyboard tucked under his arm. Max was only able to bring his drumsticks, but he’d thoughtfully brought one of Lark’s guitars down for her, as well. Then he cleverly fetched two empty chlorine buckets from the pool house and turned them upside down to create a makeshift drum kit.

  Lark decided she would play, but that was all. Singing in front of a large group of people—even in her own backyard—was just too frightening.

  Holly and the boys, Mimi and Donna, and even Mrs. Fitzpatrick, wearing an apron that said, Grill Sergeant, became an instant vocal group. They started by singing all of Holly’s current hits, then they improvised on everything from old country standards like Hank Williams’s “Your Cheating Heart” and Tammy Wynette’s “Stand By Your Man,” to the Beatles’ iconic “Please Please Me” and “Come Together.” Max even rapped a little. By the time Mrs. Fitzpatrick served the red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting she’d baked for dessert, Lark’s fingers were tired and her cheeks ached from smiling so much.

  She couldn’t have been happier!

  Then Mimi’s father was honking the car horn in the driveway.

  “Thanks for dinner,” said Mimi. “And Holly, it was so great to meet you! I promise not to post any of this stuff on YouTube.” She gave her a hopeful look. “That is, unless you want me to.”

  “I’d be grateful if you’d keep the new song under wraps for a bit,” Holly said, “at least until after it’s released. But you can put the other footage online whenever you want. I’d love my fans to see me rockin’ out with these soon-to-be superstars!”

  “I was hoping you’d say that!” said Donna. “I couldn’t have asked for better free publicity for my two biggest acts.”

  When Holly stood up and reached for her ancient guitar case, Lark felt a tug at her heart. For the last few hours it was almost as if she’d time-traveled back to her childhood, singing outdoors with Holly on a warm night under the stars (minus three unruly British teenagers and the heated swimming pool, of course).

  “Do you really have to go?” she asked.