Chapter 3-Leila
This week’s Sunday brunch with dad is interesting, to say the least. We are both purposefully avoiding the elephant in the room. I have no new information to share with him, since my meeting isn’t until tomorrow. My silence on the topic of my new career is the only encouragement dad needs to ignore it and wish it away. But he keeps zoning out. His gaze shifts nervously from his plate to his coffee and back again. I’m completely aware of the turmoil swirling in his head. He can’t fool me.
“So Lei, Sal said Saturday was the largest crowd he’s ever had. That’s amazing.” He slowly chews on a piece of bacon and zones out again.
Saturday was amazing. It was standing room only. I don’t know if it was because I was on such a high from hearing about my audition, or if we rocked the place, but I had one of the best nights ever. I even allowed myself to hang around afterwards and have a few drinks with the entire gang. We were celebrating my “phone call” as well as having the best turnout we have ever had at The Zone. Sal was so happy that he bought us all a round of shots. That has never happened before, ever. I chose not to tell dad the details of our little celebration. I don’t want to add fuel to his “denial” fire.
“Yep, it’s pretty amazing. The boys just loved the standing room only crowd. I hope their egos don’t get too big for the bar.”
“Nah, they are good kids. I’m sure they’ll take it in stride.” Dad loves the boys in the band, and they feel the same about him. Having known them for years, he is proud of the men they have become, even Matt. In all fairness, dad would have killed Matt by now if he were aware of the details of our relationship.
Dad would have preferred it if the guys had gone to college and gotten degrees. But he’s proud that they are not into drugs, or squandering their time doing nothing. They may be in a rock band, but these boys work hard.
Dad levels his gaze on me, and I know what’s coming. It’s here and he is finally going to address the issue. Clearing his throat, three times, he mumbles, “Um, so, I know this band that is interested in you is due to tour soon. I guess that means you would be gone too?”
Oh boy.
“Um, dad, let’s wait and see what they have to say to me tomorrow? I really don’t want to jump to any conclusions.” I look down into my bowl of yogurt and granola. I’m afraid to make eye contact with him. I’m afraid of the look I will see in his eyes. I know this is his way of prepping himself for what’s to come, but I simply can’t discuss this with him yet.
We finish our meal with some awkward silence. This is rare for us, as we can usually discuss just about anything. It’s times like this when I wish that Evan were here. He has a knack for shifting the focus away from me when I need that the most.
After I kiss dad goodbye and I let him hug me a bit tighter and longer than is normal, I jump into my car and drive home. I can’t seem to swallow the huge lump that has firmly lodged itself in my throat. He’s going to be lost without me. It’s not realistic to think I can be here for him and never leave the confines of northern Jersey. This is when I wish he had other children, or at least a girlfriend to keep him busy. I worry that he’ll be permanently molded to his recliner watching the Yankees or Food Network. I’ll have to have a chat with a few key people in his life to be sure to keep tabs on him.
Trying to re-direct my thoughts, I begin to think about my meeting tomorrow and I immediately see Jack’s face, his legs, his arms, his chest and his mighty fine ass. Remembering the comatose, stupefied, idiot that I became, I struggle to figure out how I’m going to be able to act normal when I face him tomorrow.
UGH! It’s embarrassing how much this man turns me on. Since my audition, I’ve thought about him so many times I’ve lost count. I find myself constantly wondering what he is doing. Pathetically, most thoughts of him come at night as I’m settling in to fall asleep. My relationship dry spell isn’t helping my Jack Lair crush. I couldn’t be hornier if I tried. My said situation is in dire straits, and I’m not the type of girl to sleep around or to take matters into her own hands.
So instead of succumbing to my yearnings, cravings, desires, I decide to clean my apartment, bake enough cookies to supply a grammar school bake sale, and watch The Notebook for the three-hundredth time. Glaring at the clock like it is responsible for my lack of orgasms, I literally grunt to see it’s still only five pm. I decide to call Evan and ask him to come over and without hesitation, he’s on his way. He only lives in Weehawken and is at my apartment in less than fifteen minutes.
Evan is all ears as I unleash every detail of my breakfast with dad over bad Chinese take-out. He is quick to defend dad and reminds me how hard this is on him. He also makes sure that I know he gets where I’m coming from as well. Evan is diplomatic, if nothing else.
“Damn Lei. I’m going to miss the hell out of you. How am I ever going to get through all those months without you?”
Leaving Evan will be harder than leaving dad will be. “I’m going to miss you so much Ev. I am scared to death. I am on the verge of freaking out about this whole thing.”
I reluctantly tell him all about Mr. Sex on Legs. At some points, Evan’s face looks like he is about to hurl.
I know what he is thinking. “How the hell can my dad, and he himself, allow me to tour with that man, for months and months if he is walking sex?”
But he doesn’t say it.
Because just like Evan has the knack to support me and tell me things I do need to hear, he also has the knack to keep to himself what I don’t need to hear.
***
On Monday morning I shower, pluck, shave, primp and polish every inch of my body. I stare at my closet as I always do, in hopes that new, expensive, trendy clothes have miraculously generated overnight, I’m left disappointed by my selection. In desperation, I pull out one of my best professional outfits. I don’t own many, as much of my wardrobe is either casual stuff or performance uniforms. I finally choose a black pencil skirt that falls right above my knees with a white cotton fitted blouse and my black patent stilettos that make me feel like a naughty schoolteacher. In all of my excitement, I didn’t think the clothing part through. There’s really nothing I can do about it at this point, since a trip to the mall isn’t possible.
With a deep breath, I grab my bag and run out the door.
The ride into the city feels like an eternity. I’ve released the f-bomb more times during my commute than I have my entire life. I allowed plenty of time for traffic but it was horrendous, and I manage to arrive only a few minutes early.
Of course all the spots on the streets are taken, and I don’t have time to circle, so I pull into a lot as close as possible and hope it won’t cost me a small fortune. I pluck the valet ticket out of the attendant’s hand and sprint towards the studio in my stiletto’s as I pray to the heavens no not fall. A few whistles and catcalls later, all of which I ignore, I slow my pace a half block from the studio, check my face in a window store front and take another deep breath.
I grab the door handle just as a firm grip grabs it as well without ever knowing that he was watching this entire episode. Surprised, I flip my head to the left and gasp out loud as I come face to face with Jack. Feeling that same jolt of electricity zip up my arm and down to my crotch as I experienced during my audition, I quickly pull my hand free from his grip as he smiles down at me.
No doubt, I am beet red from running and seeing him. He looks directly into my eyes, and cajoles, “Nice to see you in one piece Miss Marino. I’m impressed you can run in those shoes.” He winks and pulls the door open for me.
Oh God…he did see me.
It’s funny how I could sprint three city blocks in these heels, yet one look at Mr. Pretty, and I can’t seem to balance on them while standing still. I carefully make my way into the lobby, surprisingly without injury.
“So, are you ready for this?” I can feel his breath on me from his whisper and it sends goose bumps all over my entire body…and yep, here comes the clenching.
He smells so good. It’s clean and masculine and it’s overwhelming me. I quickly step away so I can clear my thoughts. I can’t walk into that room stupefied again.
“I’m ready.” I nod my head and attempt to ignore my raging hormones. Jack is smiling while assessing my outfit. The tables have turned, and it’s now his turn to eye-fuck me in the same lobby. His gaze makes me feel exposed and naked. I have to summon every fiber of my being to ignore the electric pulses running through my body, specifically my lower body and to force my legs to literally move and follow behind him.
As we walk past evil witch Sally, Jack greets her and of course she smiles for him. I don’t spare her a glance, but I doubt she even notices my indifference. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her eyes firmly glued to Jack’s ass.
Jack leads me down the hall, but this time we turn right into a small conference room. The same familiar faces are in the room. The band lines one side of the table. The stunning blonde is at the head. This leaves the side that is closer to the door with three empty chairs. Jack turns towards motions for me to sit. I pull out a chair closer to the blonde, and he pulls out the chair that’s to my immediate right.
All eyes in the room are on me and my nerves jump-start my annoying foot tapping habit.
The blonde says, “Hello, Leila. My name is Jennifer Baxter, and I am the agent for Devil’s Lair. Can we get you anything to drink?”
Yes, a shot of vodka please.
“No thank you. I’m fine.”
As I size Jennifer up I am feeling dreadfully inadequate. She is truly striking. Her blonde hair looks like silk. I’m certain she’s never experienced Jersey frizz on a hot July day. Her eyes look and feel like ice. They’re not warm and fuzzy at all. Her red painted lips are turned up at the corners is an amused smile. Her nails are perfectly manicured. Her clothing screams power. I sit up straighter in my chair in a pathetic attempt to shake the intimidation I feel.
Jennifer turns to her left and says, “This is Hunter Amatto, and he’s our drummer.” Hunter is gorgeous. I didn’t get a good look at him during my auditions. He definitely looks rocker enough with his piercings and spiky hair, but not in a scary way.
“Hey, Leila. Nice to meet you.” Hunter smiles warmly at me and I return the gesture. I have a gut feeling that I’ll like him. He reminds me a little of Evan.
“Then we have Scott Malone, our guitarist.” He waves and grins as well.
“Hey, Leila.” I can see him with Patti, although it looks as if he wouldn’t get a word in edgewise.
“This is Trey Taylor, our bass player.”
Trey…that’s his name.
He doesn’t lift his shades. He doesn’t smile. He simply nods his head and for some reason this makes me blush awkwardly.
“And lastly we have Jack Lair, our lead singer.” I turn towards Mr. Sex God and he is smiling the CCDS smile.
Crap…
Pressing my thighs together causes me to shift uncomfortably in my chair. What shade comes after bright red? Purple? Because I’m sure that’s the color my cheeks are right now.
His eyes are so beautiful and hypnotic. I don’t realize my gaze is still focused on Jack’s eyes until I hear Jennifer clear her throat.
“Leila, as you know the band feels you would be the best fit for their back-up singer. We are trying to change our sound and we feel your voice is the right complement to Jack’s. This meeting is merely an informal presentation of contract. We will proceed to Mr. Crowse, our band’s attorney, for the formal signing should you accept our offer.
“The band is due to tour in September. Until then, there will be grueling rehearsals, almost every day of the week. Jack is quite the work horse, and expects all his members to be one hundred percent committed to the integrity of their music.” She smiles warmly at Jack.
Hmmm…so she can be warm and fuzzy?
“Devil’s Lair is on the cusp of super stardom.” she continues. “Your commitment to this band will bring a huge change to your life. We want you to be as prepared for that as possible. This contract is a detailed account on what those obligations entail. Although Devil’s Lair is more recognizable than they were last year and will be playing in major cities across the country, the studio cannot afford to contract three buses. We want you to be completely comfortable with the traveling arrangements during the tour. You will be roommates with these four gentlemen and their drivers. There will be another bus following that will contain our tour manager, our equipment manager and the rest of the stage staff. I will not be traveling with the band, but I will be meeting up with them at key locations throughout the tour.”
I internally sigh with relief. Thank God for small miracles.
“This contract is also here to protect you from any unfortunate events or situations that can occur, as well as protect the band in the same right. Leila, this isn’t intended to scare you. This is a mere precaution and necessity to ensure your safety, as well as ours. Please understand, all your actions and decisions are secondary to the band’s success if you sign. We will terminate your contract and part in the most peaceful of ways if you decide that you cannot continue with your commitment, or we deem you are unfit for the band at the end of the tour. If for some unforeseen reason, you or we terminate your contract before the end of the tour, you will leave the band and immediately sever all affiliations to Devil’s Lair. Your compensation will continue for thirty days after your termination date.
“Salary, benefits and insurance details are all in the contract as are tour dates and the schedule of cities we will be playing in. The band will cover wardrobe requirements and personal grooming. The band has full authority to present you in the best manner they feel represents Devil’s Lair.” She pauses to ensure that I understand her words.
My head is swimming with all this information. My heart is pounding frantically through my chest wall, and externally I do everything in my power to try and remain cool and calm. My attempts aren’t working very well. I have my legs crossed, and I’m subconsciously jiggling my foot again, which causes my skirt to ride higher than I’d like.
A sideways glance at Jack reveals that he is staring at my exposed thighs. His heated gaze causes my cool and calm façade to slowly burst into flames. I’m hoping we are almost done here, because I will not be able to keep up this act for much longer. Turning back towards Jennifer, I internally beg, please be done…please be done.
I gratefully watch as she slips the thick contract towards me and I quickly reach for it with shaking fingers.
“Thank you for this opportunity. I will review it with my lawyer and get back to you as soon as possible.” I could very easily sign it right here, right now and screw all the legal mumbo jumbo. I don’t have a doubt in my mind I will be taking this job, but I can’t show my cards this quickly and I really need to get out of this room.
Jennifer looks at Jack and asks, “Gentlemen, is there anything you would like to add?”
Jack smirks and says, “Nope. I’m good.”
He looks at his band mates, and one by one they agree with Jack.
Jennifer plasters her fake smile on her face and puts her hand out for me to shake. “It was great meeting you. I ask you to please have this signed and returned to us in seventy-two hours. Of course if you choose not to proceed with us, please let us know within that time frame as well, as we will have to continue our search.”
The way I abruptly stand, prompts everyone but Trey to follow. Hunter glares at him and he callously shrugs. He should hook up with Sally, as they would make a nice couple from hell.
Thanking them again, I turn to leave the room and hastily forget the contract on the table. Jack snaps it up for me. “I’ll walk you out.”
We walk side by side in silence until we reach the lobby. Jack holds out the contract for me and our fingers touch sending another jolt of electricity right through my arm down to my sex.
“Leila, you already have my cell number. Call me if you have any questions. Jennifer can come off a bit strong, but she only has our best interests at heart. If you need to talk to someone less intimidating, call me.”
Less intimidating? Is he serious?
I nod and thank him without attempting to shake his hand. The last time I did, his grip almost caused me to almost fall flat on my ass. Today I’m wearing a skirt and the last thing I need is for Jack to become acquainted with my clenching crotch.
With a shy smile, I walk out of the studio and wait one block before I bend over and hyperventilate violently.
Feeling a bit better by the time I get back to my car, I analyze the meeting on my drive back to Hoboken. I managed to remain somewhat professional and controlled. Sure my nerves were a bit obvious, but there was definite improvement from the last time I was here. Of course I have no idea how I’m going to be on a tour bus with Mr. Sex god or be in his company twenty-four hours a day and not get fired in the process. I’m pretty sure inside this thick fat contract, there is a clause stating that attacking Jack or his junk in any way, is cause for immediate termination. Some super models insure their legs or boobs. I wouldn’t doubt the studio has insured Jack’s penis. I actually giggle at that thought. I wonder how much it’s worth. I can’t wait to get home to read this thing and find out.
All in all, I’m ecstatic with my new job offer. Life is so unpredictable. Who would have imagined a week ago that I would be a member of Devil’s Lair? My dreams are finally coming true.