Read Enticing Interlude (Tempest #2) for Free Online Page B

silence.
    Interesting.
    Brows up, my eyes went to hers. I enjoyed the fact that even eye contact with me appeared to fluster her and anticipated there being major sparks when we finally came together and I had my mouth on hers. And I would. Soon. But for now I needed to get my head, the thinking one, back into this tryout. I really wanted this job.
    I shifted my attention to Tempest’s lead guitarist. “Bryan, I heard you’re a GNR fan.”
    Bryan swung his gaze to Lace.
    “What?” She gave an exaggerated shrug. “Don’t give me that look Bryan Hunter Jackson. Lighten up. Justin does a version of ‘Nighttrain’ that’ll knock your boots off.” She arched a sassy brow. “And you know you love any excuse to break into a Slash solo.”
    Bryan’s lip twitched. He turned from her and gave me a chin dip. Then he swiveled to face the drummer. King hit the muted cowbell four times and on the fifth, Bryan came in with the catchy opening riff. They began the metal intro perfectly in sync. Too good. They’d obviously played it more than a few times. The gauntlet had been thrown down. I’d better make this special.
    I screeched out the loaded lyrics that were a veiled homage to the cheap liquor that had been all the GNR guys had been able to afford back when they were just starting out in LA. I let Dizzy do all the rhythm work on his guitar and focused on channeling my inner bad boy persona into the lead vocals without going too over the top. By the time Dizzy and Bryan harmonized with me on the chorus, I knew.
    I was in.
    I could see the look of grudging respect on Bryan’s face, but I didn’t need to. I could feel it. The synergy was palpable. I’d heard about it being that way when the personnel was just right in a group, but I’d never experienced it for myself at this kind of level.
    It was electric. These guys were the bona fide real rocker deal. Sure I’d seen them perform at the Garden in New York, but this was entirely different. I had been in the audience then, now I was a part of it. This was no prepackaged band assembled to appeal to the masses. This was an organic movement. Tempest was an edgy group and they radiated a raw energy that was impressive to witness and addictive to be a part of.
    I immediately wanted to try one of their songs. “’My Way or the Highway’.” I turned to King. “Call it out for us, man.”
     

 

     

     
     
    One minute I’d been seated on one side of the room, the next thing I knew I was standing in front of Dizzy on the other. I honestly couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there.
    But my eyes were still riveted on him .
    I knew I was staring but I just couldn’t seem to make myself stop.
    I was totally focused. Artists like him were the reason I loved music. I was fascinated by the culture of it all: the songwriting, the inspiration that went into it, the angst that surrounded it, the passion to communicate through notes and lyrics. That’s what he’d just done. That’s what I’d just heard. It’d been like he’d reached right out and grabbed me.
    By the time he’d finished I was thinking Paul who?
    As a preteen, I’d been obsessed with the Beatles, I even wished I had lived in the sixties so I could’ve seen them perform, and of course so I could’ve dated Paul McCartney. But at this very moment I couldn’t have been more happy to be in the here and now.
    That song was my favorite. But I’d never heard anyone sing it better.
    I’d been up most of the night thinking about Justin Jones. Listing all the reasons why I should stay far away from him. But while he’d played, I’d only been thinking about getting closer. I’d wanted to smooth the lazy lock of auburn hair off his forehead and press my lips to the skin underneath. And the way his narrow hips had subtly swayed in time with the rhythm had created a lure that hooked me. I’d gripped the cold metal seat of my chair to keep from joining him in that sexy shuffle.
    Justin had the perfect body, leanly