What Goes on Tour (5 page)

Libby itched to get her notebook out and write down what she was seeing. It was such a different atmosphere. Though the lights backstage were bright, every surface was black, making it seem dimmer than it was. There was electricity in the air, the hum of expectation and tension. The drone coming from the audience on the other side of the curtain was deep and primal.

Every now and then a chant would start. “We want Kent. We want Kent.” It would carry for a moment and then lose momentum. A couple of girls screamed as if they couldn’t keep the excitement bottled up any longer.

Next to Libby Kate scuffed the ground with her feet, looking bored.

“Do you like watching your uncle perform?” Libby asked.

Kate shrugged. “It’s weird ’cause it doesn’t seem like him performing. He’s much nicer than Kent.”

Libby had to agree. “I wonder why he doesn’t go out as himself.” She didn’t mean it as a question but Kate answered it anyway.

“Dad told Mama it was because he was too nervous to be himself. He needed to pretend to be someone else.” Kate looked up at her. “Do you think that’s weird?” Her brow was furrowed and her nose scrunched up. She was obviously concerned.

Libby covered her surprise and considered her answer. “There are a lot of people who get stage fright,” she said. “They each deal with it in their own way. Besides, isn’t that exactly what actors do each time they go on stage – pretend to be someone else?”

“But that’s their job.”

“Perhaps this is the only way your uncle can do his job. He’s a very good singer.” She remembered his performance the night before. Very good didn’t begin to describe his gift.

Kate seemed satisfied with the answer. “Kind of like when a basketball player suits up to play ball. Oh look. He’s ready to start.” She pointed to Kent, striding toward the stage.

He was in cheetah mode now. The same intense focus Libby had witnessed in the green room the night before. His gaze was on the stage and he acknowledged no one as he walked by, not even Kate.

Libby checked to see how Kate reacted.

“He’s in the zone,” Kate said and grinned in satisfaction, not the least bit bothered.

It would seem this was the norm.

He stopped in the wings of the stage and nodded once at something George said to him. One of the roadies handed Kent a microphone and George signaled someone off stage.

The lights went out.

Libby gasped as the pitch darkness swept over her and Kate clutched her hand. The audience roared in approval. Libby’s heart pounded in her throat. Shit. Kent was afraid of the dark.

What could she do? She couldn’t rush out there to help him. She would likely be more hindrance than help, but this couldn’t be happening to him twice in two nights.

The noise from the crowd was deafening. She crouched down to yell into Kate’s ear. “We have to find George.”

“Why?” Kate yelled back.

“Because the lights have gone out.” Kate mustn’t know her uncle was scared of the dark.

Kate squeezed her hand. “Wait.”

Suddenly the thrum of a guitar rang out over the screams of the crowd. The yells reached a crescendo as the next note played and the lights came on with a bang. Kent’s voice belted out the beginning of a rock song.

Libby blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light. Kent swaggered around the stage, singing his song, flirting with the audience.

It was incredible. Libby had been expecting to see him in a quivering puddle on the floor.

Kate tugged on her hand. “Did it scare you? He starts every concert like that.”

Libby absently shook her head. On stage Kent was confident, smiling, picking someone out of the audience to sing to. She couldn’t quite comprehend it. Kent was terrified of the dark and yet he faced his fear every night at work. She had to admire him.

“Where are your earmuffs, Shorty?”

George appeared in front of her and Libby jumped.

Kate looked guilty. “I left them in the room.”

“You know the rules. No muffs, no music.”

Kate sighed. “Yes, George. Come on, Libby. Let’s go play a game.”

Allowing herself to be pulled away from the stage toward the dressing-room, Libby couldn’t resist peeking back at Kent.

“He’s something, isn’t he?” George asked as he followed behind her.

Libby nodded, not able to phrase any words. George must have known of Adrian’s phobia. He was Adrian’s manager and his close friend.

They entered the dressing-room and closed the door. The music receded to a reasonable level.

“Hell of an opener, don’t you think?” George asked as he settled down on one of the chairs.

“I think Libby was scared.” Kate laughed.

Libby debated what to say. “No, I was concerned how Kent would get on stage in the dark.”

George squinted at her, as if wondering whether she knew something. “He paces it out before every show so he’s in the right place.”

“It takes some guts.” Even without being terrified of the dark.

“Yes, it does.” George paused. “But Adrian’s that kind of guy.” There was obvious admiration in his tone.

“Let’s play Snap,” Kate said.

“Sure, Shorty. Why don’t you deal and I’ll get us some food?” George stood and left the room.

Kate held up the pack of cards to Libby, questioning.

Libby nodded, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

What kind of guy was Adrian really?

“Libby, can I ask you something?” Kate had dealt the cards and they were waiting for George to come back with the food. Kate picked up her pile, tidied them and put them down.

“Sure.”

Kate fidgeted, patting her cards into place again. “Is it hard to write a book?” She didn’t look at Libby as she asked.

“Sometimes.” Libby answered. “Getting started is the easy bit. I get a great idea and I write down an outline and have fun creating characters. Then I start writing.”

“So when does it get hard?”

“Some days the story isn’t flowing or something doesn’t work right and it takes time to work out what’s wrong. And sometimes, if I’ve been writing the story for a long time, I get tired of it and want it to be magically finished.” She waved her hand about like she held a wand.

Kate giggled and then became serious. “Do you think I could write a book?” She glanced down at her hands and then back up at Libby with hope in her eyes.

Libby considered her answer. She didn’t want to make it sound easy, but she didn’t want to discourage her either. “It can be hard work, but I don’t see why not. Have you got a good idea?”

“I think so,” Kate said. “It’s about a kid my age who has super powers and is able to save people, like if their car is going to crash, I could swoop down and save them.” Kate stopped. “I mean my character could save them.”

Libby’s heart wedged up into her throat. Is that what had happened to Kate’s parents? Had they died in a car crash? Libby didn’t dare ask because Kate was obviously uncomfortable. “What would your character be called?”

“Lilly Lionheart.”

“Great name,” Libby said. “And would she wear a cape?”

“Yeah, with a big ferocious lion on it.”

Libby reached into her bag and drew out her notebook. “Okay, so name is Lilly Lionheart. Wears a cape.” She wrote down the details. “What color?”

Kate gaped at her. “You’re writing it down?”

“Of course. There’s no time like the present to get started.”

“Really?” Kate bounced up and down on the couch. “Hang on. I’ll get my laptop.” She dashed across the room to her bag and drew out a small laptop, which she dumped on the table and turned on.

Libby tucked her notebook back in her bag as George walked in with a platter of food. “Ready to get your butt kicked at Snap?” he asked Kate as he placed the platter on the coffee table.

Kate waved him away. “Not now, George. I’m writing a book.”

Libby suppressed a smile at the surprise on George’s face.

“A book?” he asked.

“Yeah. Libby’s helping me.” Kate pressed some buttons and began typing, her tongue stuck out between her lips.

“Well then,” George said and took a piece of sushi from the platter, biting into it. “I’ll just amuse myself.” He raised an eyebrow at Libby.

Kate was too absorbed to even respond. When she’d finished typing, she asked Libby, “What else do I need?”

“Have you described how Lilly looks? Hair color, length, style, eye color, height, age. You need to be able to picture her completely in your mind.”

Kate went back to typing.

Libby chose a smoked salmon hors d’oeuvre from the platter. She could tell George wanted to say more about Kate’s writing, but he didn’t dare in front of the child. Libby couldn’t see what harm would come of it. It would keep her busy for as long as she was interested.

***

An hour later Kate’s yawns were getting bigger and closer together, though she tried to stifle them with her hand over her mouth.

Libby checked if George had noticed but he had his own laptop out and was typing away, oblivious to Kate’s yawns. She didn’t want to suggest that Kate should go to sleep, in case he thought she should mind her own business.

Someone banged on the door and George went to answer it.

“We’ve got a problem,” a male voice said as George opened it.

George moved toward the man, angling himself to block the view, and spoke quietly, so Libby couldn’t hear what he was saying. He looked at Kate, back at the person who was speaking and then back to Kate.

“If you need to go somewhere, I’ll be here with Kate,” Libby said.

The indecision was clear on George’s face. Though Libby had spent the evening with them, she wasn’t one of the group and he’d told Adrian he’d take care of Kate.

The person at the door said something, his voice low and urgent.

“Will you be all right without me for a little while, Shorty?” George asked.

“Duh. I’ve got Libby to keep me company. Go save the world.” She yawned.

“If you need me, call me on my cell.” He thrust a card at Libby.

“We’ll be fine.”

George hesitated, then was out of the door.

Kate yawned again.

Now George was out of the room, Libby didn’t have any qualms. “How about you lie down on the couch and have a rest? You look tired.”

“But I haven’t finished.”

“There’s always tomorrow.”

“But you won’t be here to help me.”

Libby didn’t deliberate. Kate was a delight to be around and with an uncle like hers, she would know how to keep a secret. Libby reached into her bag and drew out a business card. Flipping it over, she wrote her email address on it before handing it to Kate.

“This is my personal email, so make sure you don’t give it out to anyone.”

Kate nodded vigorously.

“You can email me whenever you have a question and I’ll answer you as soon as I can.”

“Really?” The girl clutched the card tightly to her chest.

“Really.”

Kate yawned and looked between her laptop and the couch, still undecided. “You’re my guest. I can’t go to sleep with you here. It would be rude.”

So that was the problem. Kate had been brought up with good manners.

“How much longer will the concert go for?” Libby asked.

“Another hour or so.”

Libby leaned forward toward Kate. “Can I tell you a guilty writer secret?”

Kate straightened and leaned forward. “Yes.”

Libby reached into her bag and drew out her notebook and pen. “I carry this everywhere I go so I can write down ideas, or descriptions. Sometimes I jot down a sentence or two and sometimes I write pages.” She handed it over so Kate could flick through it. “Tonight I’ve been itching to write down some of the ideas I’ve had for stories, but I haven’t because I know it would be rude.”

Kate’s eyes squinted as she read some of the entries in the notebook. She nodded in understanding.

“So we could make a deal. If you lie down and have a nap, I can write down my ideas while you sleep. That way we cancel out each other’s rudeness and it’s not rude at all.”

Kate handed back the notebook. “So I’d be doing you a favor if I had a nap?”

Libby nodded. “But only if you’re tired. I don’t want you to feel you have to have a nap, because I’m happy to keep working on your story if you want,” she added in a rush.

“It has been a long day.” Kate paused. “And I can really email you if I have any questions?”

“Of course.”

“All right, I’ll have a rest.” She shut down the computer, got up and fetched a pillow and blanket from a corner of the room.

Libby took the blanket from Kate and waited for her to lie down on the couch. Libby then tucked the blanket around Kate and smoothed back her hair, remembering how Piper’s mother used to do that when Libby slept over. “Enjoy your nap.”

Kate grinned. “Enjoy your writing.” She closed her eyes and snuggled down.

Libby sat on the sofa opposite and settled her notebook in her lap. She hoped Adrian wouldn’t think she’d made Kate go to sleep so she could write.

Kate’s quiet, steady breathing showed she had already fallen asleep. Libby had done the right thing. The poor girl was tired.

Relieved, she started writing.

***

The door opened, allowing the noise of the audience to flood in. Libby expected George to walk in, but instead Kent stood there, sweaty and hyped.

Their eyes met, drawn like magnets for a split second, and Libby saw his confusion. He’d forgotten she’d be there. He looked to where Kate still slept on the couch, his entrance not noisy enough to wake her.

Kent closed the door quietly behind him and shook his arms and legs, as if shaking off the adrenaline still pumping through him. “Where’s George?” He spoke softly.

“There was some problem he had to fix.”

“He left Kate alone?”

Libby arched her brows. “I’ve been with her the whole time. She was tired, so I suggested she have a nap.”

“While you wrote down what you observed tonight so you can go to the media?” he asked, pointing at her notebook.

He was still coming off his performance high, Libby told herself. Still, it stung. She closed the notebook and held it out to him. “I don’t like to be idle. Would you like to have a look at what I’ve written?”

He took it and browsed through the last few pages. His lips quirked upward. “Like a cheetah?” he asked as he handed it back.

Mortified, Libby felt heat flood her cheeks. He was referring to her description of him. She ignored his question, tucked her notebook back in her bag and stood up. “You’ll want to get changed. Do you want me to wake Kate and take her with me?”

Kent was still smiling as he said, “Let her sleep. I’ll use the bathroom.”

“I’ll wait outside then.” She didn’t wait for his response, wanting to get out as quickly as possible.

She should have thought about what she’d written before offering him her notebook, but it galled to have him think so poorly of her. As if she’d go to the media. She wasn’t that desperate for publicity.

She should have expected that kind of reaction. It had happened before. Accuse first, without asking for an explanation. Were all men the same? Or did most of them have secrets they wanted to hide?

She sighed. She was used to it. What did it matter? He didn’t know her and they wouldn’t see each other again after tonight.

George strode over to her. “He’s back, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Darn it. I was hoping I’d be done before he finished.” He grimaced. “How mad was he?”

Libby considered it. Kent hadn’t yelled but there had definitely been a thread of anger in his words. “Not furious, but I’d definitely say annoyed.”

“All right.” He let out a breath. “I need to find a new nanny for Kate so this doesn’t happen again.” He paused and then studied Libby. “You’re from Australia. Do you know of anyone who’d want the job?”

She needed a job. “What does it entail?”

“Australia’s the last leg of the tour. We’re here a month. Basically we need someone to care for Kate when Adrian’s working. It would be every concert night, plus when he’s got publicity. When he’s not working, Adrian spends his time with Kate, so the nanny would be free to do what she wants. I’ve got a schedule.”

The idea crept into Libby’s mind. She tried to shake it away, but it was sticky.

“The pay is a grand a week, plus all meals, hotel accommodation and travel expenses.” He paused. “And she has to sign a confidentiality agreement.”

“I’ll think about it. I might know someone.” This could solve her financial problems.

“I’ll send you the schedule, so you have an idea of the hours.” He exhaled a deep breath. “I’d better go face the music. There’s a seat down the hall if you want to wait there.” He tapped on the door and entered without waiting for a response.

Libby wandered down the corridor to the seat and sank slowly into it. Would the schedule allow her enough writing time? She had been planning to use the month between temp jobs to finish her manuscript, but that was before her car had died and she had used all her savings fixing it. Now she was flat broke and there was no guarantee she’d get another job quickly when she returned home to Western Australia. All she had to eat was a small stock of instant noodle meals, a few frozen dinners and her vegetable patch. And if her fridge finally died, as it had been threatening to do for the last six months, she’d really be in trouble.

The pay George was offering was more than she’d ever earned and would mean she could save a little for emergencies. And she’d probably have time to write when Adrian wasn’t working. Surely she’d have enough time to finish her manuscript.

It couldn’t just be about the money, though. Kate deserved better than that.

No. It was foolish to think about offering to care for Kate. She’d never cared for a child before, unless she counted the occasional time she’d helped to look after Piper’s younger brother when Piper’s parents went out. She had very little experience with children at all.

But Kate was a fantastic kid; she was smart, keen and fun to be around. And it wasn’t healthy for her to be dragged around after Adrian every night.

Libby looked at it from another angle. It would be great to spend some time travelling around Australia. She hadn’t had the opportunity during her book tour to see any of the sights; it had been bookstore after bookstore, with the occasional library talk thrown in. If she was Kate’s nanny, they could explore the cities together, fill her writer’s well.

She tapped her fingers on her thigh and took a deep breath.

Then there was Adrian.

Or Kent.

She wasn’t entirely sure who was the real man, but she suspected it was Adrian. If she was being honest with herself, he intrigued her far too much. He was good-looking, sure, and an amazing singer, but there was that shyness she’d seen when they’d had coffee that was appealing. Was that why he went to such measures to protect his identity? Libby was itching to know more. He’d make an interesting character study. But that’s all it was – a professional interest. What kind of person willingly faced their phobia every single night? She was curious to find out more about Adrian – if she could manage to put up with Kent, who just rubbed her the wrong way.

She tucked her hair behind her ears and thought about Kate.

How long would Kate’s interest in writing a book last? It had been more fun than Libby had expected, taking her through the different phases of developing a character. If Libby became Kate’s nanny, she could continue helping her with her story and potentially have time to write herself. She would definitely have time on the days when Adrian wasn’t working, and she was used to working part time.