Girl vs. Boy Band Page 8

  “Sorry, hon, but I’m committed to a personal appearance at a club downtown. Your mama arranged it.” Holly laughed. “I never in my life imagined I’d be getting paid big bucks just to show up at a party!”

  Max turned to Donna with a grin. “When do we get to start making personal appearances at nightclubs?”

  “When you turn twenty-one,” said Donna without missing a beat. “And not a moment sooner.”

  “Trust me,” said Holly, fastening the clasps on the battered guitar case. “I know it sounds exciting, but to be perfectly honest, I’d much rather be back at the hotel, curled up on the bed in my nightie, watching old movies on TV.”

  “I agree,” said Aidan. “I’d much rather be curled up in bed with you, too.”

  Lark gasped, feeling an overwhelming urge to slap him. But Holly did something even better.

  The country star took two slow steps toward Aidan, then leaned in close until her famously full and pouty lips were nearly touching his. “Tell you what, darlin’,” she said in a breathy voice. “You can watch old movies with me any time you like . . . but if I were you, I’d wait ’til I was old enough to be behind the wheel of a hot little sports car instead of on a li’l ol’ bicycle.” Winking, she stepped away and added, “So give me a call the minute you get your trainin’ wheels off, ya hear?”

  Aidan’s face turned scarlet as Max, Ollie, and Lark burst into hysterical laughter. Their mocking sounds followed him as he stormed across the patio and into the house.

  CHAPTER

  NINE

  “Gone?” Donna’s coffee cup stopped midway to her lips. She blinked at Mrs. Fitzpatrick, who had just come in to deliver the news. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

  “I went to wake the boys, like you asked,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick explained, her voice disapproving. “Only two of them were in their beds. Aidan is nowhere to be seen. His bed hadn’t even been slept in.”

  “Did you check the music room?” Lark asked. “Maybe he went up there to work on some songs last night and just fell asleep.”

  “I checked the music room, the pool house, even the garage,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick insisted. “The little devil is gone.”

  It was at this moment that the other two band members came shuffling sleepily into the kitchen.

  “Do I smell bangers, Fitzy?” asked Ollie, grinning. “I do love a nice sausage.”

  “Where is Aidan?” Donna demanded, slamming her coffee mug down.

  “Dunno,” said Max, yawning. “In the loo, maybe?”

  “He’s not here,” Lark explained. “He’s . . . missing.”

  The boys looked only mildly surprised.

  “Do you two know where he is?” cried Donna, her voice growing shrill. “If you do, start talking!”

  “We haven’t got a clue,” Ollie assured her. “Honest.”

  “Don’t you dare cover for him, Oliver,” Donna scolded, dragging her hands anxiously through her hair. “That young man is my responsibility. If he’s out in a strange city, all alone—” She pulled her frantic eyes from Ollie to glare at Max. “If you know where he went, you’d better tell me right this minute! If he told you what he was planning, or where he was going . . .”

  “He didn’t tell me anything,” said Max. “I’d tell you if he did, I swear.”

  “Mom,” said Lark, struggling to keep calm. “Think about it. Max and Ollie aren’t exactly on speaking terms with Aidan right now. What makes you think he’d tell them what he was up to?”

  “She’s right,” said Ollie, then hesitated. “But . . . well, if I had to make an educated guess . . .”

  Donna gave him a desperate look. “Go on.”

  “Aidan’s always fancied himself a player. If I had to guess, I’d say he went off to see about catching up with Holly Rose at that club after all.”

  Donna went pale. “He’s fifteen! That’s dangerous. And . . . illegal!”

  Lark picked up her mother’s cell phone and began scrolling through her contacts. “I’ll call Holly and see if she ran into him.” Her finger hovered over the touchscreen. “Or . . . maybe I should call the police?”

  “There’s always the morgue,” said Ollie. “You could try there.”

  Max elbowed him in the ribs. Lark was about to dial 9-1-1 when a voice floated languidly through the kitchen.

  “Morning, all. What’s for brekkie?”

  All five of them whirled to see a bleary-eyed Aidan lounging in the doorway. He was still dressed in his clothes from the night before—a black leather blazer over a black T-shirt and black leather pants, which made Lark blush as she noticed they fit him like a second skin.

  “Either those are some really trendy pajamas, mate,” said Ollie, biting back a grin, “or you are well and truly busted.”

  “Busted?” Aidan gave a casual lift of his eyebrows. “What for? Having a little fun?”

  “How about breaking the law?” seethed Donna.

  Aidan was cool as a cucumber as he sauntered to the table and helped himself to a glass of juice. “I didn’t break any laws. As it happens, I never actually made it into the venue.”

  “Well, if you didn’t go to the club, where were you all night?” asked Lark.

  “Turns out I wasn’t the only one in the queue without proper ID. After I got turned away, I met a couple of girls who couldn’t get in, either. They invited me to a party out in the Valley, wherever that is.” He gave a careless shrug. “So I went.”

  “A party in the Valley with two girls you just met.” Lark’s mother covered her face with her hands and shook her head. “Good grief! Do you have any idea how many things could have gone wrong in that scenario?”

  “But nothing did, did it?” Aidan challenged. “I made it home alive, didn’t I? Which reminds me, there’s a taxi out front and I owe the driver a few dollars for the ride. Donna, would you mind handling that?”

  Donna removed her hands from her face and glowered at him.

  But Aidan didn’t flinch; he simply met her angry eyes with an angelic expression and turned up his palms. “All my money’s got pictures of Her Majesty the queen on it. Don’t think he’d accept that, do you?”

  Mrs. Fitzpatrick immediately went to the desk in the corner of the kitchen, where Donna’s tote bag hung on the back of a chair. “I’ll take care of it,” she said, grabbing Donna’s wallet and marching out to the driveway.

  Aidan just chuckled and took a long sip of his juice.

  “Do you think this is funny?” Donna asked in a brittle voice. “Well, here’s a little newsflash that you’ll find hilarious! What you did last night was not only disrespectful and unprofessional, it was downright stupid. And if you ever so much as even think about pulling a stunt like that again, I will send you back to London so fast, your head will spin. Do you understand? One more incident and I’m throwing you out of the band.”

  Lark thought she saw a flash of regret flicker across Aidan’s face, but it was almost instantly replaced by a look of defiance. “I thought pop stars were meant to live on the edge! What’s the point of being in a band if you can’t have any fun?”

  “First of all,” Donna said tightly, “y’all aren’t pop stars yet. You can have your fun when you’ve earned it. Right now, young man, you have everything to prove. And so far you’re doing a pretty terrible job of it!”

  It wasn’t until Lark heard the “y’all” slip into her mama’s speech that she understood just how mad—or maybe frightened—Donna was. From the moment Lark and her mother had arrived in LA, Donna had been obsessed with erasing all traces of Southern twang from her speech. But now she was so angry that she didn’t even realize she’d reverted to sounding like a Nashville native again.

  Aidan lowered his eyes. But he didn’t say he was sorry.

  “Get upstairs and change out of that ridiculous outfit,” Donna ordered through her teeth. “There were only two artists in this whole world who could get away with wearing that much black leather and they were the late, great Johnny Cash and the King of Roc
k and Roll himself, Elvis Presley.” She flung her arm toward the stairs and pointed. “Now, git!”

  Git!? Well, that clinched it. Her mother had gone right past anger and straight to fury. If Lark didn’t know better, she’d think she was on the verge of sending Aidan out behind the corn crib to cut her a switch to tan his sorry hide!

  Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. But it did do Lark’s heart a heap of good to know that somewhere deep down, under all those stylish business suits and designer handbags, her mom still had plenty of Southern sass left in her.

  Donna decreed that Aidan stay in his room for the remainder of the day. She never actually said the word “grounded,” but her intent was clear. He was under house arrest.

  After a tense breakfast, Ollie said he’d like to do a little shopping, so Donna called him a driver and sent him to the mall. Lark knew that her mother would spend most of the day in her office, and Mimi’s Sundays were always booked up with church in the morning and family dinner in the late afternoon.

  That left her and Max with nothing to do.

  She supposed she could make some flimsy excuse about homework and retreat to her bedroom for some much-needed privacy. But as Mrs. Fitzpatrick cleared away the breakfast dishes, she noticed that Max was looking a little gloomy.

  “What have you got planned for the day?” Lark asked.

  Max shrugged. “Nothing really.”

  “You didn’t want to go shopping with Ollie?”

  Max grinned. “I can’t afford to buy anything on Rodeo Drive, except maybe a cup of tea. And even that would probably be out of my price range.”

  Lark laughed. “Well, what do you usually do at home on Sundays?”

  “Well, in nice weather, my sister and I take the train to visit our grandparents on the coast. They live in Brighton. It’s a fun place, with a beach and a pier.” His face lit up as he remembered it, but his smile faded quickly.

  “You really are homesick, aren’t you?” said Lark.

  “Yeah,” Max admitted. “I mean, I know what a brilliant opportunity this is, being in LA to pursue a music career. But I really do miss my family. When we’re busy with band stuff, I don’t feel it much. But when I’ve got nothing to keep my mind off home, like today, it does sort of get to me. Do you know what I mean?”

  Lark nodded. “I know exactly what you mean,” she said. Then she sprang up from the table. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  She hurried to the pantry, where Mrs. Fitzpatrick was putting away the maple syrup, and whispered her plan to the housekeeper; then she dashed to her mother’s office to ask permission. Donna was happy to agree.

  Lark bounded back to the kitchen, where Max still sat, looking perplexed.

  “I’ve got an idea that I think will really cheer you up,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a surprise. Now go get dressed.”

  Max stared at her for a moment, then stood up. “What should I wear?”

  Lark grinned. “Got any swim trunks?”

  Max nodded.

  “Well, go put them on. We’re leaving in ten minutes. Fitzy’s going to drive us.”

  As she watched Max disappear up the stairs, Lark knew there was nothing she could do to cure her own homesickness, but maybe it would help her feel just a little bit better if she could do something to alleviate Max’s.

  CHAPTER

  TEN

  “So this is Malibu!” said Max, stretching out his arms and taking in the rolling waves and blazing blue sky. “It’s gorgeous.”

  Lark smiled, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to agree . . . not out loud, anyway. Somehow it felt disloyal to acknowledge the sunny splendor of the renowned California beach. Growing up, she’d enjoyed splashing around in the cool, clear lakes of her home state, but if she were being honest, she’d have to admit that even they couldn’t compare to the vast, salty waters of the Pacific. She shaded her eyes with her hand and looked toward the horizon, where the sky seemed to melt into the depths of the ocean. There was no denying that it was breathtaking.

  “It’s nice, I guess,” she conceded.

  “Wow,” said Max, chuckling. “You’re a tough one to impress. Remind me not to ask you what you think of our first single when it comes out.”

  As Lark had predicted, having sand between his toes was going a long way toward making Max feel better.

  They spread a blanket close to the water and feasted on the lunch Mrs. Fitzpatrick had packed at Lark’s request.

  “Seriously, though,” said Max, biting into a roast beef sandwich. “The palm trees, the sunshine, the sound of the surf. Tell the truth . . . some part of you must really love it here on the West Coast.”

  “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” said Lark with a sigh. “But most of the time, I’m as homesick as you are.”

  Max reached into the cooler and offered her a pickle, which she took and bit into with a loud crunch. “It’s not really about the scenery. Malibu is stunning. Beverly Hills is gorgeous. The weather is perfect. What I miss most about Nashville has nothing to do with any of that. What I miss most is my dad.”

  “Yeah,” said Max. “I’ve been wondering about what happened between your mum and dad. Donna mentioned she was divorced when we met her in London, but she never elaborated.”

  “My dad’s a session musician, so he travels a lot. And Mom wanted more in the way of a career than she had back in Nashville. Things got tense, and they both became so frustrated that they started arguing about everything from my education to what brand of barbecue sauce to buy. So here we are,” she finished sadly. “I suppose I sound like a spoiled brat, whining about living in a huge dang house in one of the most exciting cities in the world.”

  Max smiled. “A huge ‘dang’ house, huh?”

  “Sorry. My accent gets stronger when I think about home.”

  “Tell me about your dad, then.”

  “Right.” Lark closed her eyes, picturing him. “Well, he looks like me, I guess. If you can picture me with a couple days’ worth of stubble on my chin.”

  “Nope,” said Max. “I can’t.”

  Lark giggled. “He taught me everything I know about music, most of all how to love it. We started writin’ songs when I was—”

  “Lemme guess . . .” Max said. “Knee-high to a grasshopper?”

  “Please!” Lark gave him a pretend haughty look. “I’m a Nashville girl, Max, not some backwater hillbilly. But yes, when I was very small. Dad and I would sit out back and he’d show me how to play chords. I think our first collaboration was a love song to my favorite teddy bear. Do you know how hard it is to find a word to rhyme with ‘snuggly’?”

  Max laughed. “Um . . . ugly?”

  “On weekends Mom would come along and we’d go hiking in the Smoky Mountains. I’d always get tired halfway down, so he’d carry me home on his shoulders.”

  “He sounds like a perfect dad.”

  Lark laughed. “Well, he’s mostly perfect. Except for when he leaves his stinky hiking boots lying all over the floor, or borrows my guitar pick and forgets to put it back, or when he eats the last piece of fried chicken that I was saving for a midnight treat.” But Lark even missed her dad’s flaws these days, and would happily put up with his smelly boots.

  “Ah.”

  Lark helped herself to some potato chips, which she washed down with a sip of root beer. Aside from Mimi, she hadn’t really talked to anyone about her parents’ divorce. It felt good to talk about her dad. Her mom never wanted to talk about the past. She was totally focused on the future. Maybe it was just too painful, Lark suddenly realized.

  “Okay, enough about li’l ol’ me,” she said, turning her accent up to full throttle and batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated Southern Belle gesture. This had Max laughing, which of course was the desired effect. “Let’s talk about you. How did you, Aidan, and Ollie come to be in a band together? I know you said you met at school, but from the looks of things, y’all can barely sta
nd to be in the same room together, let alone on the same stage.”

  “We were all at the same school in London,” he explained. “I’m a year younger, but Ollie and Aidan had been best friends for most of their childhood. They went to the same private primary school. Me, I’m not from money. But I worked hard and got a scholarship to their private secondary school.”

  “Good for you,” Lark murmured.

  “Anyway, Aidan was what you might call a piano prodigy and Ollie can play anything with strings. The music teacher knew I played the drums, so he introduced me to Ollie and we started meeting up after school to practice together. We began writing our own songs and got it in our heads to form a band, so Ollie asked Aidan to join us. We started playing at school assemblies and open mikes all around London, which was how your mum’s colleague discovered us. Ollie’s dad paid for us to record a demo and we made that silly little video . . . and now here I am, on the beach in Malibu.” He polished off his sandwich with a shrug.

  So that’s what Ollie meant when he said Aidan wouldn’t be in the band if it weren’t for him. And Aidan repays him by slugging him in the eye! Didn’t he know the meaning of the term “loyalty”? Not to mention “friendship”!

  Max grinned. “I know what you’re thinking. If Ollie and Aidan were so close, then why are they at each other’s throats now? Well, there was this girl . . .”

  Lark sighed. How many stories about rock bands breaking up began with that exact phrase?

  “So Ollie had a girlfriend,” Lark ventured, “and Aidan stole her away?”

  “Nope. Other way around.”

  “What?! No!” While Lark could easily imagine Aidan, with his self-important attitude, betraying a friend over a girl, she refused to believe the same of funny, charming Ollie.

  “Her name was—is—Jade,” Max went on. “Long black hair, hazel eyes, and well fit.” He glanced at Lark. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I get it. She’s pretty. Keep going.”

  “She’s smart, too. When Aidan met Jade, he was totally into her. Thing was, Jade didn’t have the same feelings for Aidan. She went out with him a few times, had a few snogs—”