Heartbeat Page 4

  “In case I might have seen him.”

  “Oh, right. No, I doubt it. He’s a bit of a recluse but he’s a huge fan of yours. He probably would have been hiding in the crowd somewhere for your songs.”

  “Why’s he a recluse?”

  I glanced around, feeling like I needed another drink. Gabe’s quiet, direct honesty took some getting used to. “Oh, I mean he’s not really a recluse. He’s just young and kind of shy. Stupid thing is, I know he’d love to meet you but I’m guessing he’s freaked out by the whole idea.”

  “Fame’s strange. I’m just a person.”

  “Yes, you are.” My body didn’t seem to agree with his statement though.

  “So, let’s go find him.”

  “Huh?” I tried not to close my eyes. Far out, Chloe. You’re an actress, why can’t you act like everything is normal right now?

  Gabe straightened and took my hand. “Let’s go find him and surprise him. That way he can’t be shy.”

  I looked down at our fingers threaded together. How did he do that? This was the second time. He made it seem like holding my hand was the most natural thing in the world and I’d only known him a few hours. Maybe it was a rock star thing? Maybe he held all the girls’ hands this way?

  “Chloe?”

  “Oh, right. Good idea.” I ducked my head and started guiding him toward the main part of the house.

  Chapter 6

  “You seem to know where you’re going.”

  Gabe was right. I knew exactly where I was going. “Yep. My brother will be hiding out in his room.”

  I’d led Gabe upstairs to the eastern part of the house that my brother and I occupied. Mama had the western side to herself.

  “How old is your brother?”

  “He’s nineteen.” I wanted to say a young nineteen, but that wasn’t really true. In some ways my brother was more mature than me.

  “Levi’s right. This place is kind of huge.”

  I looked across at him and noticed him taking in the endless hall and the numerous doors off either side.

  “I don’t really notice anymore. When we first moved in I was terrified of all the space, especially when Mama said her bedroom would be down the other end. Damon and I shared a room for the first year.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  I glanced down at our hands again then looked away. “Anyway . . . ” I was beginning to hate that word. “When we eventually moved into our own rooms, we decided to stay close by. I’m away a lot filming so we don’t really get in each other’s way.”

  I continued down the hall and as we got closer to my brother’s bedroom door, I grew more nervous. When we were a few feet from it, I stopped and turned.

  Or at least that’s what I’d intended to do. Being intoxicated didn’t make sudden movements easy.

  “Whoa.”

  Gabe dropped my hand and grabbed me with both arms to steady me right before I tripped over. He caught me from behind the way a footballer might go in for a tackle. We stood frozen for a moment, my back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around my waist.

  He smelled good. Really good. I inhaled a breath slowly, attempting to memorize the scent that was Gabriel da Silva—leather, warm spice and . . . sweat. Although he had changed shirts since their performance the salty tang of sweat clung to his skin and I found it way more alluring than I thought I would.

  “Alright?” he said in my ear.

  No, I was not alright, but I needed to pretend like I was. I straightened and he loosened his grip but didn’t let go as I turned to face him. He left his hands resting on my waist.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” I blurted. I ignored the thumb that was doing a tap dance on my left hip because I was pretty sure he wasn’t aware of it. “My brother is a huge fan.”

  Gabe smiled wryly. “Yeah, you told me that.”

  “No,” I corrected. “He likes Gypsy Hour but he loves you.”

  The smile was lost to a confused frown. “Me?”

  I stared at the deepening lines in his forehead in fascination, then caught myself. “Yes. Why is that surprising?”

  He shrugged and dropped his hands from my waist, taking a step back. “I don’t know. I’m the drummer.”

  I huffed and without thinking about what I was doing closed the distance between us. “So?”

  He shrugged again. “Johnnie and Levi are the ones who get most of the attention.”

  Before I could help myself, I gave him a shy smile. “Not all the attention.”

  Gabe’s gray eyes widened and I silently cursed the champagne again.

  “Thank you, by the way,” I rushed on quickly.

  “Thank you?” For the first time since we’d met I sensed he was nervous.

  “Yes. Performing the Queen song was fantastic. How did you know?”

  His hands were now behind his back but I suspected his thumb was still moving.

  “Like I said, the YouTube video.”

  “Why were you watching YouTube videos of me?”

  I felt rather than saw his body still. “I was researching you.”

  All the breath left me and I stared at him, speechless.

  He shoved a hand roughly through his hair. “Shit. And that just sounds creepy.” His eyes met mine and it was as if storm clouds were rolling through them.

  I found my voice and offered him a smile. “No creepier than Johnnie.”

  He closed his eyes and laughed and I felt myself light up at his reaction.

  When his laughter subsided, he gave me another apologetic look. “Sorry, what I meant to say was that I was preparing for the show. I wanted to get an idea of what sort of music you liked—apart from Gypsy Hour that is. You know, do something unique to kick off the show to make it more personal seeing as tonight wasn’t just another gig.” He cleared his throat, still looking embarrassed. “So, your bro’s a major fan?”

  I let him change the subject. “Massive. He’s a drummer, too.”

  A genuine grin split his face and it occurred to me that Gabe smiled a lot more when he was comfortable. “Nice. Well, what are we waiting for?”

  I turned so he couldn’t see my expression and walked the last few feet to my brother’s bedroom door. Damon was going to kill me.

  I knocked before I could think any better of it.

  “What?” my brother called out.

  “Open the door,” I demanded.

  There was a pause and then we heard the door unlatch. Damon still kept it locked like he was a secretive thirteen-year-old—not that anyone ever bothered to go in there. It was a pigsty and the cleaners refused to venture into his room unless he did a general tidy up first, which happened rarely.

  “Chloe?” Damon’s head appeared in the crack. “Is everything alright? Why aren’t you at the par . . . ” His dark eyes widened when he registered Gabe standing beside me. After a moment of silence he blinked once, twice, three times and then slammed the door.

  I bit my lip and hid a smile.

  “Big fan, huh?”

  I liked the sound of laughter in Gabe’s soft voice. It reminded me of sunshine. Or maybe I was still inebriated.

  “I’m not giving up.” I knocked on the door again. “Damon.”

  I glanced over at Gabe when there was no answer.

  “Damon.” I dropped my hand. “Shit. This calls for underhanded big sister tactics. He won’t be able to handle it if I take you into the studio for a look round. Come on.”

  I grabbed Gabe’s hand without thinking and dragged him up the hall until we reached a door three up on our left. I pushed it open and switched on the lights as I tugged Gabe in behind me.

  He let out a low whistle. “Very nice.”

  “This is the one room where Damon forgets about his shyness.”

  I watched with a satisfied smile as Gabe walked around the home studio. A Ludwig drum set sat proudly in the center of the room. There were a few guitars and a bass neatly resting nearby. The wall opposite was wher
e he kept all the technical stuff. ‘Stuff’ because I didn’t know what half of it did. Damon had a computer hooked up to a mean looking set of speakers and there was a mixing board thingy, but that was about the extent of my knowledge.

  My eyes were drawn to Gabe as he did a slow circle of the room. I saw him taking in the posters and prints on the wall. All of Damon’s favorite bands were there.

  “Huh,” he muttered, and stopped in front of a print of Gypsy Hour.

  The shot had been taken at a live performance from an angle and it captured Gabe, arms raised mid-drumbeat with a spray of sweat glistening under the stage lights.

  “That used to be Chloe’s.”

  I let out a squeak and swung around—nearly unbalancing myself again in the process—to see Damon standing in the doorway.

  “Hey man,” Gabe said, like the same guy hadn’t slammed the door in his face only two minutes earlier. “Sweet set up.”

  “Thanks.” Damon took a tentative step into the room like he didn’t own it.

  The big sister in me wanted to rush over and squeeze him because I knew his heart would be beating a million miles an hour right now. Instead, I walked over and took his hand and gently tugged him further into the room. Like me, he had a slight frame but he was much taller. I hated the way he always slouched like he wasn’t comfortable with his full height.

  Up close I could see his dark eyes better. He had the same fair complexion I did, but with the wispy dark hair that covered his eyes and his all black outfit, it made him appear paler.

  I held back a frown when I saw that his eyes were bloodshot. He gave me a sideways glance and a slow, lazy smile. Dammit. He’d just smoked some marijuana. I dropped his hand, trying hard to hide my disgust.

  I’d told myself a million times to be thankful that it was only marijuana, but I hated the person Damon became when he smoked pot. It was like taking a brilliantly sharp knife with gleaming edges and dulling it until it was an ordinary butter knife. I especially hated how his sweetness was lost to a sly young man I didn’t recognize.

  As if he sensed my unease, Damon’s smile turned into an evil grin. “Chloe had that poster on her wall until about a year ago.”

  I glared at Damon with my best big sister look of superiority, then faked a bright smile when Gabe twisted to face us.

  For a split second it was as if he registered the mood, but then he shrugged. “It’s a great image. I’ve been really lazy about getting some good shots framed.”

  “Don’t you have people for that?” Damon said.

  Ugh. I resisted backhanding my annoying brother.

  “Probably.” Gabe nodded at the drums. “How long you been playing?”

  “Since he was thirteen,” I answered.

  “Twelve,” Damon corrected, shooting me his own ‘back off big sister’ look.

  “And the guitars?”

  “I picked that up a couple of years after.”

  “He still prefers drums,” I said.

  “I get that.” Gabe wandered over to the guitars and gestured to the acoustic one. “Do you mind?”

  “Go for it.”

  Damon and I watched as Gabe slung the strap over his shoulder and then perched on the edge of a stool nearby. My earlier exasperation evaporated as the sound of Gabe plucking an intricate chord progression filled the room.

  “You play guitar?” I breathed. God, how did I not know that?

  “Some,” Gabe said, his gray eyes settling on me while he effortlessly continued playing. “I keep it to myself though.”

  More than some, I wanted to say, but didn’t. And if he kept it a secret, why was he playing in front of us now?

  Damon nodded with one of those male frowns that indicated he was seriously impressed rather than upset. He edged toward the drum kit and I saw him eye the sticks resting on one of the drums.

  “Needs a beat,” Gabe said, indicating for my brother to sit down.

  I gave up all pretense of appearing cool and pulled up another one of the stools to gape as my little brother started playing drums with Gabe.

  Perhaps the pot he’d just smoked was a good thing. When he was his normal self again, he would pee himself over this.

  “Needs more hi-hat,” Gabe suggested, and Damon nodded reverently. One of the cymbals danced up and down as he increased its pace.

  “Nice, now listen for the bridge and see what you’d do there. I’ll keep playing it until you get that down.”

  I stared at them in awe. Damon was jamming with Gabriel da Silva. I was going to pee myself too! God, I wished I had my cell right now so I could shoot some pictures of them for Damon to drool over later.

  And he would definitely drool over this for weeks, probably years, to come. Sure, he might appear comfortable behind the drums in his drug-induced calm, but I knew something many people didn’t.

  My shy, sweet younger brother was gay—and he had just as big a crush on Gabe as I did.

  Chapter 7

  “There you are!”

  Damon’s drumsticks halted in midair and Gabe paused the chord he was playing at the sound of my mother’s shrill voice.

  “What on earth are you all doing in here?” she demanded, striding into the room on her high heels.

  I saw Damon’s eyes darken before he dropped his gaze to his lap and lowered the drumsticks. Gabe looked between us, an eyebrow raised in interest rather than concern. I wasn’t sure how, but he seemed entirely unperturbed by April Allen.

  “Chloe?” Mama stopped beside me. I was the one who specialized in explanations in our family. Usually to protect Damon from her disapproval.

  “I was just coming to get Damon and take him back to the party and the boys started jamming,” I told her.

  “Jamming? Chloe, your guests are wondering where you are!”

  I stifled a sigh. “I’ve only been gone ten minutes.”

  “Actually, it’s been about half an hour,” Gabe said, standing. He put the guitar back on the stand carefully. “And your mother’s right. You’re missing your party.”

  My mother straightened and blinked several times, her fake lashes doing a little dance. “Well, then. Which one are you?”

  I thought I saw the corner of Gabe’s mouth twitch. He walked over to us and offered Mama his hand. “Ma’am, I’m Gabriel da Silva, the drummer. Thanks for having us tonight. Your house is something special.”

  My mother blinked again but allowed Gabe to shake her hand. I knew she hated being called ‘ma’am’ but she was a Southern girl and couldn’t resist good manners.

  “Why thank you, Gabriel. You performed beautifully tonight. I hope you won’t mind if I escort my daughter back to her party.”

  “Not at all. I’m sorry to have monopolized her time, but I can see where she gets her charm and beauty.”

  Damon and I shared a wide-eyed look and I was pretty sure we both fell a little harder for Gabe in that moment. Johnnie may have oozed sex appeal, but I was beginning to see Gabe’s attractiveness lay in his quiet self-assuredness.

  “Why thank you, sugar.”

  Damon and I shared another look and I reached over and caught Mama’s arm. Once she started calling men ‘sugar’ it was time to leave.

  “Come on, Mama. Let’s head back to the party. Have I missed anything?”

  My mother let her gaze linger thoughtfully on Gabe for longer than was necessary and then she turned to me, waving a hand theatrically in the air. “Oh, just the usual. Candace is making eyes at your father again, never mind he’s remarried. And I think some of the young ones are rather drunk, but then aren’t we all?” She flashed Gabe a winning smile.

  “I haven’t said hello to Candace tonight, so let’s go.” I guided Mama toward the door and made the mistake of looking back.

  Gabe’s knowing smile caught me off guard and I stumbled. Mama righted me.

  “How much have you had to drink, young lady?”

  “No more than you.”

  My mother frowned, then shrugged. “You should be f
ine then.”

  I was pretty sure she’d had too much as well but she’d never been a good judge of her alcohol consumption.

  I mouthed ‘sorry’ as I was whisked out the door and prayed my brother would be alright left alone in Gabe’s company.

  SEVERAL HOURS LATER, sometime around three am, I kicked off my heels and headed for the bathroom. I was dying to pee so instead of heading upstairs to my room, I ducked into one of the guest bedrooms that was closer.

  “Oh!” I skidded to a halt several feet inside the door. “Johnnie.”

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  Johnnie gave me a lopsided grin from his position on the bed. He was naked from the waist up, his black jeans sitting dangerously low on his narrow hips. I was momentarily distracted from my urgency to go to the bathroom by the tapestry of tattoos that covered his chest and stomach. “You like what you see?”

  I snapped my mouth shut because I’d been gaping and darted a glance toward the bathroom. “Actually, I really need to pee.”

  A flicker of surprise lit Johnnie’s dark eyes and then he threw his head back and laughed. “I must be losing my touch.”

  I darted another glance at the bathroom. “Sorry.” I rushed into the bathroom off the guest bedroom and closed the door. After I’d relieved myself, I studied my reflection in the mirror while I washed my hands.

  Not too bad, all things considered. My eyes were a little bloodshot from the alcohol—which I’d stopped drinking hours ago, just to be safe—but the rest of me appeared normal. I think my mother had instructed the waitstaff to ply me with as much food as possible, too. Even so, I could feel my body struggling to deal with the amount of champagne buzzing around my system.

  Satisfied, I made my way back into the bedroom. Johnnie still lay comfortably on the bed. He hadn’t bothered to cover up, either.

  He patted the empty space on the bed next to him. “Come and join me.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned. “Relax, I won’t bite. I just want to see how you enjoyed your party.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him but did as he suggested. I perched on the edge of the bed so there was still a few feet between us.