Darcy was pleased that Richard had come to rehearsal. He finally emerged from his room that morning, joining them for breakfast. Darcy was beginning to hope he had been correct when he told Caroline that Richard just needed to get over Charlotte. In fact, he hadn’t believed it when he said it; he was just stalling for time. But now, it looked like time just might have done the trick.
Although Richard seemed back to his usual self, Charles was now a mess, distracted and barely able to focus on their songs. Not that he needed to. The rehearsal was part of their routine, a ritual they did each performance day while on tour, but not strictly necessary.
If Darcy were completely honest, he would have to admit that he was off today as well. He wouldn’t acknowledge it, but he had an itch on his consciousness, like a tiny part of his brain was unraveling, disrupting his ability to fully concentrate. He certainly wouldn’t admit he was missing her, even if he knew he was.
Just when Darcy was about to snap at Charles for missing his entrance for the fourth time, he heard footsteps running toward them and saw Jane rush onstage. She didn’t stop until she was in Charles’s arms. He picked her up and swung her around, a scene worthy of any movie.
Darcy exchanged a look with Richard, clearly communicating that rehearsal was now essentially over, and then they both looked to see the return of Jane’s band mates.
Elizabeth and Charlotte stood offstage, with Alex standing behind them like a mother hen. Both ladies looked distinctly uncomfortable. Darcy walked over to them. “Welcome back. We missed you.”
“Thanks,” Elizabeth answered lightly. She noticed that Charlotte just stared at Richard, whose gaze rested back on Charlotte. “Um, did you have a nice break?” Elizabeth asked, trying to save the uneasy reunion.
“Yes, we did,” Darcy answered with the same intent. “We went Jet Skiing,” he grinned.
“Oh,” Elizabeth replied, a little surprised. “All of you?”
“No,” Darcy answered carefully, “just Charles and I.”
Elizabeth took his meaning, and her eyes rested on Richard before she quickly looked away again.
“How was the video shoot?” Darcy asked.
“It was good,” Elizabeth said, nodding. “It was very… educational.”
“Great,” Darcy answered, and paused uncomfortably. He was quickly becoming frustrated with the situation. Talking with Elizabeth had never been this forced, and the staring match between Richard and Charlotte was simply ridiculous. “Well, we’re just about done with our rehearsal. Do you want to take a break and then have your turn?”
Elizabeth looked at Charles and Jane, who were still tightly embraced, as soft, earnest words were shared, and nodded. “Yeah, I think that’d be best.”
Darcy walked back onstage and began putting his instruments away while Elizabeth waited a moment for Charlotte. When she didn’t seem inclined to move, Elizabeth left her and walked backstage.
Charlotte was immobilized. She looked into Richard’s eyes, reading them as if they were the most fascinating novel she had ever seen. She read in them a pain, which warmed her somehow; it helped her to know that she wasn’t suffering alone. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted to be with him, but she saw by the sadness in his eyes that it would not be.
For his part, Richard was silently cursing himself. He tried for almost a week to disconnect from Charlotte, and here he was, as caught up as any fly in a spider’s web. He saw her pain, her longing, and perhaps something more that he did not have the courage to face. She hadn’t turned away from him, hadn’t grown angry with him, and hadn’t moved past him. She was in the same place he was, stuck in the same mire. He was tempted to chuck it all away, to quit his noble plan and pull her close, to bury himself in her sweetness and warm himself in her affection. But the vision of her, devastated and broken after the incident with Collins, stopped him. He was responsible for that; all the blame was his. He was poison to her, toxic to her spirit. He would not let himself destroy her. He loved her too much.
“Hey, Char,” he said, discovering they were alone. “How’re you doing?”
“Good,” she replied, blinking as a similar awareness came to her. “How are you?”
“I’m good. It was nice having a break, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“Course, you had to work; sorry ’bout that.”
Charlotte shrugged. “It wasn’t too much work. I mostly hung out in the trailer with Jane.”
Richard shared a look of understanding. “I know. Sometimes you get the feeling they could replace you with a cardboard cutout.”
Charlotte grinned at his perceptiveness. He knew her like no one else. Her heart was both swelling and breaking. Why? Why couldn’t he see that they were perfectly matched for each other? She looked away, unable to face him. She wanted him so much, but she couldn’t have him.
“Do you want to get a drink or something?” Richard asked. His eyes filled with sad comprehension of the moment.
“That’d be great,” Charlotte agreed. They moved backstage and joined Elizabeth and Alex in the green room. Cold drinks were passed around, and they took refuge in the company of others.
Darcy and Caroline soon joined them. “Where are Jane and Charles?” Elizabeth asked.
Caroline smirked. “It could be awhile yet.”
Elizabeth grinned in understanding. “You should’ve seen Jane on the plane. She was practically willing it to go faster.”
Caroline laughed. “Charles poured orange juice on his Corn Flakes at breakfast this morning.”
“The worst part is he didn’t notice until the bowl was half-gone,” Darcy added. This got a chuckle from everyone. “I don’t know what they are going to do during the break.”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew quiet and sad. “I forgot that was coming up.”
“Yup,” Caroline said happily. “Nine days of work, then we are off for a month.”
“We are off the tour for a month,” Alex corrected. “You’re not really off, Lizzy Bennet. You have some appearances scheduled, a video to shoot, and you have a performance,” he added cryptically.
Elizabeth eyed him, puzzled. “Performance?”
He grinned like the cat that just caught the canary. “I just got a call from Anne. Long Borne Suffering will be performing ‘Everything You Are’ at the VMA pre-show in three weeks.”
“That’s great!” Caroline exclaimed, echoing the general sentiment of the room.
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. If he had told her she was winning a Nobel Prize she would not have been more surprised. The MTV Video Music Awards was one of the biggest shows in the business, and being asked to perform, even in the pre-show, was a huge mark of both their success and their potential.
“I guess we will see you there,” Darcy grinned.
“Are you performing?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes. We’re the closing act.”
Elizabeth was impressed despite herself. The closing slot was the most prestigious appearance of the night; in the past, acts like U2, Madonna, and Guns N’ Roses had held it. Considering Slurry was basically unknown four years ago, it was quite a testament to their talent.
Elizabeth felt a surge of emotions for Darcy she didn’t understand, and she struggled to control it. “So, we’ll see you there,” she said politely.
Darcy nodded.
Jane and Charles had left the planet and entered their own private world.
“I missed you so much, baby,” he said between kisses. “It’s so good to hold you.”
“I know,” she grinned, light-headed from the sensation. “I missed you, love.”
“I think it’s going to be a couple days before I can let go of you again.” Charles sighed.
“That’s okay,” she giggled, “we’ll just move Lizzy and Char to the Slurry bus.”
Charles laughed. “Oh, that would work,” he said sarcastically before returning to the sweetness of her lips. “I’m going to hate being away from you during the break, Jane.”
His words cut her sharply. Irrationally, she felt betrayed. A dozen questions sprang up in her mind, but her natural restraint kept her from asking any of them. Instead, she merely looked at him, waiting for whatever explanation he could give.
“I have to go home for a week. I have… business I’m required to take care of there, but it’s just for a week. Then I’ll come back to New York.” Charles was so unhappy. He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to explain everything, about his father getting out of prison, about setting up his house. He wanted to take Jane to California with him and show her the places where he grew up. But he knew he couldn’t. “We can go to the VMAs together, and then we’ll spend the rest of the vacation together, just us, I promise,” he told her lamely.
Jane was mollified. She gave him a weak smile as she chose to think about the time they would have together, rather than the time apart. She kissed Charles longingly once more and then walked him back to the others.
Elizabeth was complimenting Darcy when Jane and Charles entered the room, and the news about the pre-show performance was repeated. Charles’s excitement over the news was overwhelming. “Jane!” he shouted triumphantly. “I’m so proud of you! Next year you will be on the main show with us!” He took her into a great hug, his face illuminated with love and pride.
The group spent a few more minutes chatting, updating everyone on the plans for the rest of the tour and the break. Darcy was aware of the uneasiness between Charlotte and Richard, which he understood, but the distance between himself and Elizabeth puzzled him. It seemed that each time he tried to reach out to her conversationally, she politely backed away. He knew they hadn’t parted on the best of terms, but he didn’t understand her reaction.
“Elizabeth,” he called to her as she was about to leave for the stage. She turned and walked to him, her face neutral. “Anne is coming down tomorrow and she’s bringing the web designer. They want to update the Slurry page. Would you come to the meeting? I really don’t know anything about this and I could use your advice.”
Elizabeth was careful to not react to him. “Sure, Darcy. Just let me know when.”
“Thanks,” he said, and smiled privately to her. He was disturbed to see that his smile was not returned. She gave him a slight nod and walked away.
Elizabeth sat at the table in the LBS bus, her coffee cup forgotten in her hands, her mind a thousand miles away. Jane exchanged a look with Charlotte, who moved off to the back, allowing Jane to join her sister alone.
“Lizzy?” Jane called softly. She touched her sister’s arm.
Elizabeth visibly broke out of her trance and smiled with embarrassment at her sister.
“What’s going on?” Jane asked softly.
Elizabeth’s face fell, and she looked down at her plate. “I’m feeling a little confused, I guess.” She looked into Jane’s patient eyes and took advantage of the silent offer before her. Elizabeth knew she could tell everything to Jane and receive nothing except understanding and support. “When I was talking to George, he told me some stuff about Darcy.” She paused. “It wasn’t very nice.”
Jane encouraged her to continue.
“I…” Elizabeth frowned and began again. “When I was with George, it was easy for me to be sure of my feelings. But now we’re back, and Darcy has been… I don’t know. He’s been pleasant and warm, and I’m not sure what to think anymore,” she concluded.
“Well, how do you feel about George?” Jane asked practically.
Elizabeth shrugged and then smiled. “I like George. He’s very nice. He’s very easy to be around.” Her expression turned inward again. “But he’s not Darcy. Will is much harder to be with, but when I’m with him, I feel…” she trailed off, unable and unwilling to describe the intensity of her feelings for Darcy.
Jane took her hand and smiled sympathetically.
“So, now I’m lost between the man who is easy and who likes me and the man who is hard and likes me.” She grinned at the ridiculousness of it.
“Well, Lizzy, you have to make up your own mind, but personally, I’ve always preferred a hard man,” Jane winked. Elizabeth laughed, grateful for Jane, who was always there when she needed her.
Darcy watched as the tour had breakfast the next morning. Elizabeth sat with Charlotte, her concern for her friend obvious. Charlotte was not eating and looked like a wreck. He was disappointed to find that Richard was sitting across the restaurant and was also not eating. Darcy knew the two incidences were related, and he suspected the cute blonde named Dorothy whom Richard had been with the night before had something to do with it.
Right now, he was focused on the attractive picture of Elizabeth. Since her return to the tour, she had been polite to him. He knew her well enough to know that was the kiss of death from her. She was only polite to people she disliked. The question was why. Did something happen at the shoot? She was warm enough to him before she left. He would ask Caroline, but he suspected this was beyond even her formidable intelligence capabilities.
He regretted that they would not be staying in any more hotels before the break. It cut down on the chances for private time to talk to Elizabeth, to try to work out what was going on.
As Caroline gave her morning briefing, Anne entered the room with another woman and took a seat at his table. Darcy nodded a cool greeting to Anne and turned to examine the woman more closely. She was tall and shapely, with dark hair and eyes.
When Caroline finished, Anne spoke up. “Can we begin? I’ve got things to do,” she snapped.
Darcy slowly leaned back in his chair and deliberately took a slow sip of his tea, his gaze never leaving hers. “Of course, Anne. I certainly don’t have anything else to do.” He paused to take another sip and rose. “Excuse me,” he told her, leaving the table before she could respond.
He walked to Elizabeth’s table and bent low over it. “I need you for that meeting I was telling you about,” he told her softly.
Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. “Right now?”
“Yes,” he answered, his eyes holding hers. “If you aren’t finished yet, I can wait. It’s no problem.”
Elizabeth shared a look with Charlotte and rose. “No, it’s no problem at all.” She wasn’t surprised that he would demand her with no notice like that. After all, he was Fitzwilliam Darcy. She took her coffee cup and the bag containing her laptop and followed him to the table where Rachel, Anne, and the woman waited.
“Anne,” Darcy said formally, “Elizabeth will be joining us.”
Anne looked like a cat that had been dropped in a bucket of cold water. She gave an equally hostile look to both Elizabeth and Darcy, saying, “Fine. This is Sylvie Duval. She’s our web designer. Sylvie, this is Fitzwilliam Darcy of Slurry and Lizzy Bennet of Long Borne Suffering.”
Sylvie smiled and extended her hand, first to Darcy then to Elizabeth. “It’s a privilege to meet you both,” she said with a light and charming Parisian accent.
“This is my personal assistant, Rachel Brown,” Darcy said, introducing Rachel to Sylvie.
“Can we begin?” Anne said impatiently.
They all settled around the table. Sylvie opened her laptop and began. “I have reviewed your current website. It’s been in need of an update for a while now, no? I contacted marketing and received some new material from them. This is what I have come up with so far.”
She passed the laptop to Darcy, who reviewed it, his eyes quickly scanning the screen without expression. He then passed it to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth studied the site. It started with a pop-up presenting a montage of images of the band—taken mostly from their videos while “Control” was being played. After a minute, Elizabeth skipped the intro and went to the main page, clicking around to view all the features.
“It’s good,” she observed, clearly impressed. “I like the frame idea and the rock motif.” She pursed her lips. “These pictures are pretty old, though.” She showed Darcy. “Look, you still have long hair here.”
Darcy nodded. “We had a photo shoot last month, Anne. Do you think Ms. Duval could have access to those pictures?” Darcy said with exaggerated politeness.
Anne stared coldly at him and nodded, while Rachel made a note in her Palm.
“You don’t have any songs to download, or videos,” Elizabeth observed while still focusing on the laptop.
“That is De Bourgh policy,” Sylvie told them.
Elizabeth sensed that Sylvie disagreed with the policy, but unlike Darcy, she was not at liberty to openly criticize the management. Elizabeth immediately found herself liking the woman.
“Well, I have to say, I don’t agree with it. Our video and audio bring a lot of traffic to our site, where fans can find information about the tour, buy tickets, or buy other merchandise right there,” she said professionally. “The lucrative sales of our CD off our web page have been extremely impressive.”
Anne’s eyes narrowed. “You are providing downloads off your web page?” she asked incredulously. “That’s against De Bourgh policy. We aren’t giving these songs away.”
“Well, De Bourgh never told me that, and since it’s my web page, and not De Bourgh’s, I don’t think it’s any concern of yours,” Elizabeth said calmly. “The sales off the web page fully support my decision.”
“I’d like to see that!” Anne snapped.
Elizabeth calmly produced a packet of papers from her case and passed them over to Anne. “For the purpose of comparison, I used the sales off Slurry’s web page,” she explained. “I think you will be favorably impressed.”
Darcy quietly took out a pen and scribbled on his napkin a note he passed to Elizabeth. It read: “How did you get the sales report off the Slurry web page?”
Elizabeth didn’t even look down as she wrote back one word: “Hacked.”
His eyes grinned at hers and he crumpled the napkin and put it in his pocket.
Anne put down the report and she looked at Darcy. “Is that what you want, Darcy? Audio and video downloads?”
Darcy took another slow sip of tea. Elizabeth saw him grinning behind his mug as she could almost hear Anne’s teeth grinding. “Yes, I do.”
“Fine!” she snapped. Looking at Sylvie, she commanded, “Add it.”
Sylvie nodded and looked pleased. “Now, about Long Borne Suffering,” she began with a smile at Elizabeth. “Your website is very up to date, isn’t it? But I do have some suggestions.”
Elizabeth frowned in confusion. “No, I’m sorry. I think you are confused. I do my own page for the band.”
“Oh?” Sylvie looked from Elizabeth to Caroline, who was staring at Darcy.
Darcy spoke up. “I asked if De Bourgh could take some of the load off you, Elizabeth, with the web page.”
“What?”
Darcy looked at the three other women at the table then rose. “Could you excuse us a moment?”
Elizabeth followed Darcy away from the table with an air of incredulousness. “What?” she asked him again, when they were alone in an alcove by the restrooms.
“It’s just that your career is taking off now, and I want you to have more time to focus on it,” Darcy said. “I’m not suggesting you give up the site; just let Sylvie help out a bit. When Anne told me she was coming down, I simply asked her to have your page reviewed. That’s all.”
“Where do you get the idea that I don’t have enough time to manage my own website?”
Darcy frowned. “Well, you are always on that laptop, Elizabeth, and you told me yourself you answer all your fan email.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed angrily. “Has it ever occurred to you that I might be doing something on my laptop other than the website?”
Elizabeth could see by his expression it hadn’t. “For your information, I’m spending the time on my computer doing web pages for my customers.”
Now it was Darcy’s turn to be astonished. “What?”
“You know I have a degree in computer science. Before you ‘discovered’ us, I designed web pages and networks for small companies.”
“Yes, but you don’t need to do that now.”
“I don’t?” she questioned him sarcastically. “Look, I’m not taking on new customers, but I’m not dumping my old ones either.”
“But you have your music career; you’re a success at that.”
Elizabeth laughed derisively, her eyes flashing. “You’ve never heard of a ‘one-hit wonder’? Until my music career is a lot more stable, I’m keeping my other business,” she explained. “And I’m keeping my own website, thank you very much.”
Darcy’s face was a blank. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I didn’t know. I was only trying to do what was best.”
“Of course you were,” Elizabeth said, her voice scornful, “because you always know what’s best.” She found that any warming she had felt for Darcy had evaporated. Darcy was exactly the arrogant, controlling jerk George had told her he was. Her rational voice told her that he had only been thinking of her best interests, and she had to concede that, but would it have been so hard to ask her if she needed help?
No, she told herself, this is his way to try to control her, and she wasn’t going for it.
Elizabeth left Darcy and returned to the table. She politely asked Sylvie about her suggestions, not willing to take Darcy’s arrogance out on her, and found she was favorably impressed with some of Sylvie’s ideas.
Darcy returned a moment later and had a low conversation on the other side of the table with Anne, then exited the restaurant, presumably to return to the bus.
“Sylvie,” Anne said quietly, breaking up the women’s conference, “I have to meet with Caroline. You can ride to the venue with me or with Lizzy here.”
Elizabeth smiled and offered Sylvie a lift on the LBS bus. As the tour moved out of the restaurant and to the parking lot, Sylvie indicated Richard and quietly asked Elizabeth, “Who’s that?”
Elizabeth smiled and informed her of Richard’s identity, marveling all the while at the amazing Fitzwilliam magnetism.
“Is he single?” Sylvie asked, her eyes trailing over Richard’s form.
“Oh, he’s highly single. But don’t expect any kind of commitment. He’s a confirmed bachelor.”
“So am I, so am I!” she answered thoughtfully. “But when I see an appetizing cake, I always try to get a slice.”
Elizabeth grinned. “Help yourself! He’s a whole buffet.”
Darcy sat on his bus with Rachel, listening to her voice with only half a mind. Damn! I really screwed up with Elizabeth this time. I don’t know what was bothering her before, but she sure has a reason to be angry with me now. Damn!
“Georgiana called; she is going to have Lars Ulrich’s love child,” Rachel reported evenly.
Darcy nodded then looked up at her confused. “What?”
“You remember Lars, don’t you? Drummer with a pushy attitude?”
Darcy’s face darkened. “That’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not,” she replied flatly. “But I was getting tired of talking to myself. Now, do you have anything to say about the quarterly reports? Or should I just chuck them?”
“You know, I don’t pay you to give me lip.”
“No, but you don’t pay me to put up with your crap either.”
Darcy took a long, deep breath. She was right, and he knew it. “Sorry, Rachel.”
“It’s okay. We all need this break,” she said softly. “I take it Lizzy was not a happy camper?”
Darcy shook his head. “Nope. I was trying to help her out, and I just succeeded in pissing her off.” His expression turned from annoyed to depressed. “I don’t know why I try.”
“She’s stubborn, just like you.”
“She is just like me. She’s so much like me it’s scary. You would think I would understand her better.”
“Yeah, you would think,” Rachel replied with a hint of sarcasm. “Maybe you need to understand yourself better, then you can understand her.”
Darcy regarded her for a long moment. “Let’s get back to work,” he said finally.
Charles felt as if the tour were falling apart. In the day since the girls returned, Darcy and Elizabeth were as cold to each other as he had ever seen them; Charlotte was hiding out in a dressing room during dinner while Richard was talking to Sylvie; and even Caroline had snapped at Alex over something Anne de Bourgh had said.
He looked at Jane, who also had a worried expression on her lovely face, and took her into an empty dressing room. Once there, he drew her into his arms and relaxed.
At times like this, he felt the only place he could be happy was in her arms. When he was there, he felt nothing could harm him. He inhaled her sweet scent deeply and kissed her honeyed lips, feeling her firm body press close to his.
The tour had been brutal on them both. He missed sleeping beside her and waking up to her bright smile. He questioned the fate that brought this perfect woman to him and yet seemed to be constantly scheming to separate them. “Jane,” he said softly as he broke away from her kiss and felt her lips traveling to his neck. “We need to do something about the bands.”
If Jane heard him, she gave no sign of it. She instead steered him to the couch in the small room and sat down on it. Charles followed her, and soon they were lying on it, her beneath, him above. Charles’s worries about the band left him. Jane clearly had more important concerns, which required his immediate attention.
He kissed her, his tongue delighting in the sensation of her mouth caressing his. Their hands were everywhere, quickly removing clothing, which was suddenly binding, hot, and uncomfortable. Once they were naked, they were able to slow down, their awareness focused on the sensation of flesh against flesh.
Jane stared up into his eyes, letting words fall away from them. She didn’t need to speak to be understood. She loved the way his eyes would glow with hunger for her. He delighted in every touch and taste of her, and she could read the delight in his face. She loved the openness of his expression. The way he hid nothing from her. It was what made his secrecy over the upcoming break disturbing.
When he finally parted and entered her, she could see the satisfaction upon him. He relished the sensation, letting himself be lost in her. Jane’s hands moved over him, encouraging him. She didn’t want this to be slow or gentle. She wanted him fierce and hard, the way she knew he could be. She could easily picture him like this when he faced something greater than himself, either a wave or a mountain. Now he faced her desire, which was greater than her body, greater than her soul.
With infinite care, he rode her, watching her every reaction, measuring each response. Like testing each toehold or balancing on his board, this was an act of complete physical precision. Every motion had a purpose, yet at the same time, brought him satisfaction and joy.
Jane was lost. Charles Bingley might be smiling and easygoing to the rest of the world, but only Jane knew this side of him, the side of him that was a manic perfectionist. She surrendered her body to him, trusting him to bring her complete pleasure and release, then drive himself home. The softest sigh was the only sign of her final climax. Through gritted teeth, Charles told her, “Jane! Oh God! Jane!” and she squeezed him tightly within her as he exploded.
After a moment, their smiles returned. Charles kissed her sweaty brow and rolled them so they could rest on their sides. Jane’s toes were still curled from the intense pleasure she had felt, and she cuddled close to him, fully content.
When they began to grow cool, they rose and took turns showering. Jane emerged first and dried her hair, then dried Charles’s with the blow-dryer, enjoying the chance to pamper him. “I always feel selfish when you do that,” she said quietly. “I feel like you’re doing all the work.”
Charles reached behind him and squeezed her tight. “Don’t,” he admonished. “You have no idea how it excites me to see you come like that. It’s so sexy and really makes it good for me.”
Jane smiled happily, then said, “Now, about what you were saying—”
“You can remember that?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have to try harder. I must be losing my touch.”
Jane lightly smacked the side of his head and continued. “I agree with you. And I was thinking we are musicians. Maybe we could all play something together. Something new, so that we would all have to learn and practice together.”
Charles stood up and took her face in his hands, kissing her deeply. “You’re brilliant, Jane. That’s why I love you.”
Jane giggled. “I know, and that’s why I love you, because you are the only man who sees me, all of me.” She kissed him again. “And because you are so hot you make my toes curl.”
Moaning suddenly pierced the air. From next door, they heard Sylvie crying out as Richard made another conquest. They exchanged a look of understanding, knowing they were going to need something to hold the two bands together.
Charles waited until the meet-and-greet was over to make his proposal. He was worried that Richard wasn’t going to be there, but halfway through the session he emerged from the dressing room with Sylvie, who was wearing a distinctly satisfied smile as she kissed him good-bye and rejoined Anne.
“Jane and I were thinking, we are almost halfway through the tour and we haven’t done anything as a group. We thought that it would be nice for the bands to perform a song together before we leave for the break.”
“What kind of song did you have in mind?” Darcy asked impassively.
“We could do an eighties cover,” Charles suggested. “Maybe some Whitesnake!”
“We do not do covers, and we are certainly not doing Whitesnake!”
For once Elizabeth found herself in complete agreement with Darcy, as were the others.
“I’ve been writing a new song,” Jane said pleasantly. “Maybe we could do that?”
“Is it ready yet, Jane?” Elizabeth asked.
“It’s not totally finished, but if everyone would help, I could have it done in an afternoon.”
“Well, I’m game,” Richard said easily. “It sounds like fun. Char?”
Charlotte lifted up her shoulders. “Sure.”
“I’ll play, Jane,” Elizabeth said warmly, her eyes daring Darcy’s.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth, his eyes unreadable. “I’m willing to give it a try.”
Elizabeth looked away and Darcy could not tell if she was pleased or disappointed. He realized that it was unusual for him to care about the disappointments and pleasures of others, but he discovered that for some unknown reason, he was disappointed not to know Elizabeth’s reaction.
It was after the rehearsal and sound checks when they were ready to start on the song. Jane had just begun when Alex’s cell phone rang. He turned away to answer it, but Elizabeth was completely distracted by the call until Alex turned to her and shook his head.
“Has he called yet?” Jane asked sympathetically.
Elizabeth shook her head and shrugged.
“Who is she expecting to call?” Charles asked Jane, sotto voce.
“Oh, the director from the shoot, George Wickham. She kinda had a thing for him, and he said—”
“Wait! Did you say George Wickham?”
“Yes,” Jane answered, confused.
“Will!” Charles turned to his friend, his face deeply concerned. “Jane just told me the director of their video was George Wickham.”
Darcy turned on a surprised Elizabeth. “Is this true?” he snarled.
Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Yes, George was our director. What of it?” she said in a challenging tone. “He told us he used to sing with you. He’s a very nice man.”
“He’s not, Lizzy,” Richard hissed. “He’s nothing but a lying bastard.”
Darcy savagely kicked the nearest amplifier and wrenched out his cell phone and hit a button. “Get me Anne de Bourgh,” he growled. “Now!”
“Oh, you’re gonna get your boyfriend in trouble, Lizzy,” Charlotte teased.
Darcy spun around, his face turning white. “What does that mean?” he asked coldly.
Elizabeth stuck out her chin. “It means that George is a friend of mine. What are you doing, calling Anne de Bourgh like that?”
“That bastard is never to have anything to do with my band, and she knows it!” White-hot rage was coming off his body.
“Luckily, he didn’t have anything to do with your band,” she observed frostily. “George was directing Long Bourne Suffering, not Slurry. I suggest you try to remember that.” She closed the distance between them. “You might have been able to control him, but you will not control me.”
“You have no idea what he is capable of.”
“Maybe not, but I know what you’re capable of, to even your oldest friend.”
“Lizzy, whatever he told you, it’s a lie.”
“Is that why you’re so scared?” Elizabeth asked.
Darcy clenched his jaw and turned away, walking to his dressing room and slamming the door.
“Fuck! Fuck!” He swore, over and over again, his rage searching for release. He wasn’t surprised when Richard walked in a minute later. In truth, Darcy welcomed his company. Richard was the only other person there who knew the whole story.
Darcy flashed him a black look, but Richard knew to whom his anger was really directed.
“Well, that was exciting,” Richard said mockingly.
Darcy snorted; a moment later his fury was back. “God damn that bastard!” he growled as he threw a glass against the wall, watching with satisfaction as it shattered. “How? How the fuck did that asshole know? How the hell did he get on that shoot?”
Richard shook his head. “Come on, Will. He’s a lot of things, but he’s never been stupid.” He frowned and clenched his fists. “It’s no secret we’re on tour with them. He probably just kept his ear to the ground. You know how he is.”
“I know. The lying snake!”
Richard waited a moment, watching Darcy prowl like a caged panther. “Are you going to tell her the truth?”
“You know I can’t do that! What is going to make her believe me, anyway? Who knows what lies that bastard fed her?”
“Will! You can’t leave her to him. She doesn’t deserve that! No one does.”
“I won’t. You know I won’t,” his tone was rueful. “But I can’t let her know that I’m trying to protect her, either. That will just make her angrier and push her to him.”
“Or you could just tell her what he did.”
Darcy just shook his head.
“What are you waiting for?” Richard asked. “You know you love her. Talk to her. Tell her.”
“Oh! And you’re one to talk?” Darcy replied angrily. The two men regarded each other, eyes locked.
“Leave me out of this,” Richard said, biting off each word, and turning away.
“I just think it’s ironic that you are here giving me advice about talking to Elizabeth when you sure as hell aren’t talking to Charlotte!”
“It’s a completely different situation.”
“Yes, it is, because at least you know that Charlotte loves you!”
Richard looked at Darcy, quickly, his eyes questioning what he had heard.
“Oh come on!” Darcy said in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know this! I don’t know what the hell you are up to, putting her through hell like this, but at least you must know that.”
Richard looked away. He put his face in his hands and rubbed it tiredly. “Are you certain?” he asked weakly.
“Yes, as much as anyone can be without hearing it from the other person.”
Richard sighed out a deep breath. “Damn.”
“What’s the problem, Richard? Level with me. If you don’t love her, it would be kinder to just—”
“I wish I didn’t love her! That’s what I’ve been trying to do! Forget her!” His voice was tight with tension. “But it’s not working.”
“So, why don’t you try making it work with her? I don’t understand the problem here.”
“The problem, Will, is that I’m a bad man. I’m toxic. It was my fault she ended up with Collins. I’m no good for her.”
“I think that you should let Charlotte decide that.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that. Right after you tell Lizzy about Georgie.”
Darcy scowled and turned away, and Richard dropped tiredly onto the couch. “You were right, Will; we should have stayed away from them. Now look at us. All fucked up,” he snorted in bitter amusement. “Except for Chas, of course.”
“Charles is better than both of us,” Darcy pronounced in his soft dark voice. “He deserves his happiness.”
“I hope it lasts for him.”
“So do I.”
The next week was incredibly difficult. Tempers were short and everyone seemed to be snapping at each other. Elizabeth took every opportunity to bait Darcy for a fight, her usual good spirits having completely abandoned her.
Darcy found out through an angry phone call to Anne that Bill Collins hired Wickham to direct LBS’s video. Of course, Bill had pleaded ignorance of Darcy’s strict rules about Wickham never having any contact with Slurry, but Darcy knew it was all just a lie. George’s being there had been a setup, a classic Wickham maneuver that had succeeded perfectly.
Richard’s behavior with the flavors continued unabated, even as he pulled further away from Charlotte. Idly, Darcy kept a mental list of the women who had received Richard’s “Golden Dick” treatment: Jodi (twice), Tracey, Deidre, Tara, Leah, Julie. All had received his special attention as he had tried to forget the woman he really wanted.
Charlotte, for her part, seemed to be growing colder and more distant by the day. At one point, Elizabeth had suggested that she enjoy a flavor of her own, but she had simply looked at Elizabeth sadly and said, “It didn’t work.” Elizabeth was deeply worried for her friend and was hoping that some distance between her and Richard would help.
The air of gloom had even touched Jane and Charles. They became prone to long periods of silence when they would just hold each other tightly, unable to talk about what was disturbing them, yet unable to find comfort anywhere else.
It was killing Charles that he couldn’t tell Jane the truth. He needed her at that time, needed her understanding and comfort. His father’s incarceration for insider trading twelve months ago had been a source of private torment. It caused him to question the legal system and meaning of morality. Charles knew in his heart that his father was a good person, yet he was a convicted criminal in jail. He had never been able to reconcile these two realities in his mind, and now that his father was facing release, he found they disturbed him again.
He wanted so much to share this with Jane, to share his worries about what his father would be like. He was certain that prison changed him. A part of him was afraid of what he would find when his dad was released, and he longed to unburden himself of all those fears in the woman who had come to mean everything to him. But he knew he couldn’t. Darcy had been right. They had tried too hard to keep the secret. He couldn’t risk it now.
For her part, Jane could not understand what was going on with Charles. At moments he would look at her and hold her with so much love, she felt she would burst, and at other times, his eyes were filled with a profound sadness that made her blood run cold. She found herself questioning everything: herself, Charles, their relationship, his feelings, and her feelings. Doubts were weighing her down, and the only times she felt comforted was in her music.
The new song had been completed. It had changed from a simple love song to one of yearning, expressing the feelings she could not put into spoken words. Yet it still maintained the basic upbeat spirit that was Jane’s nature.
They would rehearse it every afternoon, and in a way, it served its purpose. The bands did spend time together, just the six of them, and they got to know different sides of each other. It would be true to say that exposure to the true musicianship of each person caused them all to fall deeper in love, but only Jane and Charles were free to admit it.
Each of them had brought something different to the song: Jane had provided the lyrics and melody, while Charles had provided the initial harmonies. Charlotte had provided a Latin beat, which had allowed Jane’s voice to take on a slow and sultry air, and Richard had added a wealth of accent percussion, adding an energy and excitement to the song. Elizabeth had brought her formidable theory talents to bear and had written an elaborate orchestration for the song, making it thick with a brass section, as well as adding her voice and guitar.
But it was Darcy who totally changed the song. After three days of doing little more than observing, he came in on that Tuesday with a guitar solo that blew them all away.
Charles was grinning like a maniac as Darcy’s electric guitar became another voice, singing a duet with Jane’s. “I knew it!” he proclaimed to the group. Richard also grinned, glad Darcy was finally participating.
Shock would be the best way to describe LBS’s reaction. “Guitar virtuoso” was a title that had been dropped around Darcy so many times it had become meaningless with repetition. Nevertheless, when faced with this demonstration of his talent, they were forced to acknowledge his legitimate skill.
Jane was delighted, eager to share her song with him and the excitement of creating something new. She threw herself into the song with even greater enthusiasm. Charlotte was pleased as well. Suddenly the song had become something exciting and completely different. It was no longer a product of LBS’s with some backup help from Slurry; it was now a true collaboration.
Elizabeth was the only one not enraptured. She certainly couldn’t deny Darcy’s musicianship or that his addition had dramatically improved the song. But she was angered by where it left her. True, she had a very clear acoustic guitar line, and her vocal harmonies with Jane were crucial, but it infuriated her that Darcy had to step forward and grab the spotlight. It was so typical of what she knew of him. He couldn’t be a part of the ensemble; he had to be the star.
She felt pushed aside by him, and it hurt her more than she could admit or understand that he wasn’t willing to play with her. It was only in being denied what she wanted that she really understood what it was. She wished they could have played together: a real duet, between the two of them. But instead she was stuck playing backup while he played the star.
Charlotte took a deep breath and forced her feet to move. It was the last day of tour before the break and the last hour of free time before they faced the meet-and-greet and then performed.
She found him and was grateful he was alone. He was hanging out by the bathrooms, smoking. “You’re not supposed to do that inside, you know,” she said lightly.
Richard looked at his cigarette and shrugged. “It’s too hot to smoke outside.”
Charlotte lifted half of her mouth in a smile. “Good point. Do you mind?” she asked, pulling out her own pack.
Richard shook his head and made room for her. While it was a casual action he had done a hundred times, it was touched with melancholy. Even this straightforward act of sharing a cigarette break with Charlotte had become so dear to him he almost couldn’t stand it. He stared at her as she lit her cigarette, her head turned down slightly, and he tried to understand it. When had her face become the most beautiful he had ever known? When had her voice, her eyes, her smile become a part of him? He struggled to maintain his calm, wanting to both run away and to throw himself at her.
“How are you doing?” he asked with forced casualness.
Charlotte smiled, a vain attempt to pretend. “Okay. You know.”
Richard nodded. He knew.
“What are you going to do during the break?” she asked, playing the game with him.
“Oh, I’ve got my cousin’s graduation on Sunday, then I’m probably just going to hang out at home.”
“In the city?”
“No, my family has a summer place in Massachusetts.”
Charlotte nodded. He was so easygoing with her; it was easy for her to forget how wealthy he was.
“What about you?”
“Oh, pretty much the same. Alex has some record signings for us, and the VMAs of course, but otherwise I’m just going to crash at home.” She took another drag and looked straight ahead. “You know, Massachusetts isn’t that far from me. Maybe we could get together during the break.”
Richard grimaced. He hated this. He hated the way she was desperately throwing herself at him, he hated the way he wanted her so badly, he hated this stupid charade they were playing, trying to pretend this wasn’t killing them inside. “No, Charlotte,” he said angrily.
She looked at him then, and nothing could mask the hurt in her eyes.
“Don’t you get it, Char? I’m no good for you! What do I have to do? I’ve tried over and over again to make you see. I’ve given you every excuse. Just walk away from me!”
“No,” she said softly. “I can’t.”
Richard closed his eyes and drew a long breath. “Do you realize what you are doing? You can’t turn away from something that’s harming you. Do you know what that is Char? It’s addiction.”
“Really?” she said, pulling the last bit of her dignity together. “I thought it was compassion.”
Richard flinched. When he spoke again his voice was softer, pleading. “Please, Charlotte, don’t do this. Don’t hurt yourself anymore. Turn away from me.”
Her eyes were large and pouring into his. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”
Richard looked down and licked his bottom lip nervously. In a voice that was little more than a whisper, he asked, “Do you love me, Char?”
“Yes,” she whispered back, not needing to think about it. “I wish I didn’t, I know it’s all wrong, but I do.”
With great sadness, he took her into his arms and kissed the top of her head tenderly. “I’m sorry, Char. I’m so sorry.”
Charlotte screwed up her eyes, forcing her tears back. She didn’t need to ask what he meant. She had never had to. They had always understood each other. He didn’t love her; he couldn’t. She had to give him up. She embraced the bitter knowledge that of all the women in North America, she was the only one being denied what would mean the most to her, him. That pain helped her pull away. “Have a good break, Richard,” she said as calmly as she could.
“You too, Char,” he told her, unable to see her face but knowing what it contained. He felt a huge emptiness opening inside of him, which could only be filled in one way. The pain brought him up short, and the lies he told himself could no longer be believed. Turning away from her had been hard, but turning back to her would be even harder. But he had failed at forgetting her, so now he had no choice. If he was going to survive, he would have to change. He couldn’t do it for his own sake, but he would try for hers.
They ended the set with “Lost Myself,” the way they always did. The room was alive, the energy of the crowd feeding the energy onstage in a symbolic cycle. Charles’s voice, rough and gritty, had filled the hall, paired flawlessly with Darcy’s guitar.
From her place offstage, Elizabeth watched alone, feeling once again that gnawing desire that she had come to despise as her own weakness. She hated that she wanted him, she lusted for him, and she burned for his touch. It was wrong. It was wrong in so many ways she couldn’t even count them, but here, alone in the dark, she let her desire run wild. She let her eyes drink in his tall form; she pictured his long arms holding her tightly. She recalled the heady scent of his skin, alive with the fresh sweat of the show. For a moment she would have given anything to feel him on her, pressing her flat and invading her body. But it was impossible. He was the sweetest fruit and completely forbidden to her.
“Thank you!” Charles’s voice cut off her yearning, and her attention snapped to the here and now. “We’ve got something special for you tonight!”
Elizabeth moved forward onto the stage with Charlotte and Jane, and the crowd began cheering. “You know how wonderful our opening act is,” Charles paused for more cheering. “Well, we’ve been working together and we have something to share with you.”
Charlotte walked to her usual space as Richard stood. “This is your chair,” he told her, with an unusual expression of seriousness on his face. Charlotte took her place behind the drum kit.
Darcy turned to Elizabeth as she plugged in the hookup for her Gibson and set up her microphone. His eyes inquired if she was ready, hers answered that she was.
Jane walked fearlessly to the mic stand, which Charles yielded to her. Then everyone turned to Darcy and Elizabeth. They would be starting together on the same beat. Their eyes locked as Charlotte raised her hand to the cymbal.
Without an outward sign, they all moved simultaneously and they were off. Jane began singing with a voice full of longing.
Darcy’s awareness was limited to a tiny area, encompassing only himself, his guitar, and Elizabeth. He didn’t even hear Jane or the others. It was only he and she. He was playing to her. He hoped she could hear it, that every riff was for her, telling her of his feelings. He watched her play, skipping in and out of her rhythms, sometimes moving with her, sometimes dancing around her.
His eyes were focused on her, and his fingers required no additional guidance. He smiled his private smile for her, knowing this was one place she could not avoid him. It didn’t even matter that she didn’t return it; she understood. He moved with her, circling each other, her Gibson to his PRS, balanced perfectly together.
When she had to stop before the microphone to sing, he positioned himself beside her, close enough to touch her, as he played along with her voice. This was the time he had been waiting for, the time when she was his alone. There was no escape for either of them, no retreat. He played the oldest song known: a song of prowess, designed to prove himself worthy of her.
It didn’t matter now that they were parting as soon as the song was over. It was only a temporary separation, but the marking he made on her was permanent. She would be his. He was playing for her, something he had never done for another woman, and he knew the power of his music. Like Orpheus, no one could resist it.
Playfully he finished the song, his spell complete, his point won. He bowed low to Elizabeth, his eyes never leaving hers, before they addressed the screaming fans. He held out his hand to her, and as he knew she would, she took it. Together they bowed to the audience, who had witnessed his performance.
They left the stage together and walked to the instrument area. Darcy put away his PRS, not needing to say anything to her, as she stored her Gibson. When she rose, he faced her. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes as he gently touched her cheek. “Good-bye, Elizabeth. Have a good break,” he said, kissing her. Her lips welcomed his of their own volition.
They kissed for a long moment before he pulled back. The uncertainty was still there. He recognized that she wasn’t even aware of what happened. He smiled kindly to her and walked away to the limo that would take him and Richard to their flight. His pride wished that Elizabeth recognized what had happened, that she had leapt into his arms and asked to come with him, but it didn’t matter. She was his, and she would know it soon enough.