“Never,” she said immediately. “Your ego is big enough as it is.”
He kissed the tip of her nose in such a sweet move that I knew immediately that I wanted what they had some day. Relief also washed over me. It sure didn’t seem like Barrett cared even a little about this new information.
“So, fangirl,” Dixon said, but it took me a full ten seconds to realize he was talking to me. “You have excellent taste. You have a fantastic voice but do you also play any instruments?” Surprise ran through my body that he’d heard my voice. I’d assumed someone further up the chain made the decision to book us. To which he gave me a panty-dropping smile. “We listened to everything you have out when Lawson got you to replace Hurricane.”
“Thank you,” I told him.
“Which is awesome, by the way,” Booker told us. “That you were able to step in on short notice.”
“Yeah,” Ransom agreed. “We know you had to cancel some of your own shows.”
“Not a problem at all,” Mack replied.
Really, they were doing us a favor by bringing us on this tour. Canceling a few of our shows was an easy price to pay. We played regularly but this was the next level.
“Daisy plays everything,” Bonham told them, back to the original question.
Ransom cocked his head to the side. “Everything?”
I shook my head. It was as if suddenly my brothers’ only goal was to embarrass me. “I don’t play everything well. I dabble. I can play a little something on most instruments, but I only excel with my violin.”
“I can’t fucking wait to see that,” Cross told me. And just like that, we were all comfortable. As if we’d already known each other before stepping out onto this stage. “We all heard a violin on some of your tracks and were trying to figure it out until Barrett looked into it and said it was you.”
“It is. My violin teacher was pissed as hell that I joined these guys instead of applying to Julliard or any of the rest of the list of schools he saw in my future.”
Dixon took a step forward. “Let’s get back to this dabble in everything, fangirl.” He cocked his head to the side and looked me over as if I were an exhibit in a museum. I really didn’t like this nickname I’d gotten already. Sounded like nails on a chalkboard to me. “What does that mean exactly?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Bonham spoke before I had the chance. “Literally. The girl can sit down to almost any instrument and play something by ear.” Then he shrugged. “Any standard instrument anyway. I don’t think we’ve tested with rare instrument.”
I groaned. “You make me sound like a side show freak,” I told him.
“I mean… ” Bonham let his voice trail off which earned him a light punch to his arm.
“Before this gets out of hand…” The stupid hot guy who had been on the other side of the stage but was now suddenly very close to us spoke up. “I’m Lawson. I attempt to wrangle these guys.” Barrett cleared her throat. “With Barrett’s help.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mack told him as they shook hands.
“OK, fangirl,” Dixon called out, but I held up a hand before he could go any further.
“Every time you call me ‘fangirl,’ I’m going to kick Van in the balls,” I told him. “We’re up to three right now.”
Dixon’s face blanched for the quickest second, then he shrugged. “They’re not my balls.”
Barrett smacked the back of his head. Dixon hadn’t even seen it coming but it made a nice whack sound that traveled through the empty arena. The place had great acoustics.
Van groaned. “That’s cold.” The rest of the guys laughed, though, so there was that at least.
“OK, Daisy,” Dixon said, though I had no illusion that this was the last I’d hear my new nickname. “Show us.”
“Show you what?” I asked.
“Hop on the drums. What can you play?”
Surprisingly, even as the lead singer of Pushing Daisies, I didn’t necessarily love the spotlight off stage. Though we were technically on stage. Still, I’d do this just to prove that I belonged.
“What do you want me to play?” I asked. “Something of yours?”
“You know our stuff?” Ransom asked.
I nodded. They didn’t get how this worked. Hell, I didn’t get how this worked and I lived it. “I’ve listened to it, so I can play it.”
“‘Ever After,’” Cross said before anyone else could make a suggestion. Of course he’d pick something off the newest album. That way I couldn’t have practiced for years.
“Am I playing alone?” I asked because that would’ve been weird.
“Nope,” Booker assured me. He stepped closer and swung his bass back around the front of him. Dixon did the same and Ransom grabbed a mic off one of the stands and turned. Cross just stood there with his arms over his chest.
But they were all looking at me.
I took a deep breath, letting my muscle memory or whatever the hell it was that allowed me to do this to kick in. Then I slid behind the drums and giggled. “Hang on,” I told them. “My feet don’t touch the floor. I can’t reach the foot pedal.”
The sound of male laugher surrounded me. Cross was over six feet tall and I was about five-foot-four. Big difference in stool height needed.
“Want some help?” Cross asked.
“I got it but you’ll have to fix it after.”
Once adjusted, I gave the guys a nod.
This particular song started abruptly. Everyone was playing all at the same time, so I counted it off and let the memory of the song control my hands. Ransom came in on the right beat and even to my own ear, it sounded almost the exact same as it had on the radio. As if Cross were behind the drums the entire time not me.
I could admit that once in a while it felt good to be out of my comfort zone. To play an instrument I didn’t know the way I did my violin. To walk in someone else’s shoes for a moment.
As the song came to an end, all four members of Courting Chaos were standing before me with their eyebrows raised and eyes wide, as if they couldn’t believe what they’d just witnessed. Yeah, yeah. I was impressive and all that. To me, it wasn’t that cool. It was just something I could always do.
“Holy shit,” Booker muttered.
“No kidding,” Dixon agreed. “If anything happens to Cross, we know who to go to.”
“Fuck off.” Cross gave him a shove.
“That was pretty badass,” Barrett told me. “I’d like to see you put these guys to shame on the other instruments, but they have some media to do.”
Thank you, I mouthed. She gave me a smile that said she understood. Out loud I said, “That’s totally cool. I mostly don’t like to play the bass anyway.”
“Oh, come on.” Booker threw his arms out in frustration.
“No, no, no,” I said quickly as I scooted out from behind the drums. “It’s not that I don’t like bass but look at it. It’s over half the size of me and it’s awkward as hell to hold.”
He looked from me to his bass then back. “You may have a point.”