Trapped Under Ice (3 page)

Chad stood with a guilty start at the sound of the trios’ entrance. Roger was about to go into another reenactment of a bar brawl he and Chad were in, when he warned him with a slight shake of the head. Switching gears, Roger launched into an amusing tirade about his mother-in-law, who Michelle halfheartedly tried to defend.

Chad’s eyes casually strayed to Beth’s face. She found a seat on one of the couches, taking everything in and sipping beer. It appeared as though she had straightened her hair and wiped the blood from her mouth. She looked much calmer. Watching her eyes dart from speaker to speaker, he decided she was even more beautiful than he had thought. He wondered how to determine for certain whether she was single or not.

Cassie sat without speaking on the floor in front of Beth as she stroked the teen’s hair absentmindedly. He noticed, with a feeling of discomfort, her hands still trembled slightly. From time to time she pressed the cold beer bottle to her cut lip and occasionally to the back of her head. He was about to offer her the ice wrapped in a towel lying next to him, given to him to ease his knuckles, but Roger asked him to clarify part of a story and he lost track of his line of thought.

***              

Beth exhaled as her mind now had the time to sort through what took place throughout the evening. She went over each tortuous minute with her assailant and always came back to her overwhelming sense of relief that someone came to their rescue. After a few minutes, however, she recognized she wasn’t contributing much to the conversation. She again blocked out thoughts of the attack to tune in to what was being said.

The group seemed to be comparing notes on their performance. As she listened, Beth tried to wrap her mind around the fact she was sitting in the midst of the mega-band Trapped Under Ice. What an odd turn of events.

From her position in a chair opposite the couch Roger, Michelle, and David occupied, she could easily observe everyone in the band. Her attention was first drawn to the most animated speaker, Roger. The bassist stood about five-eleven, built stocky, with short, brown hair and an open, expressive face. He looked like your typical kid brother, but with a touch of the devil in him.

“I screwed up on ‘Second Time Around.’ I thought we were on the third verse when we were only on the second.”

“Oh, honey. You were fantastic. As usual,” Michelle cooed, planting a hungry kiss on him.

The others seemed at ease with her display of affection.

“What about me?” David teased from his position to Michelle’s right on the couch. He puckered up. “Wasn’t I fantastic, too?”

Keith, the youngest of the four band members at maybe twenty-one or twenty-two, did not intend to be left out of the action. He leaned over Roger from his perch on the arm of the couch, opposite of David. “Yeah, and I bet you never heard drums like that before, eh?” In torn jeans, with a double-pierced ear and hair containing at least a half-dozen styling products, he looked the part of the drummer. He and David made loud kissing noises as they tried to embrace the couple.

“Get the hell out of here.” Roger chuckled, swatting at them.

They bantered comfortably, obviously a group more like family to each other than friends. It set Beth at ease to be in such a warm environment, to be in the midst of people who seemed to care a great deal for each other.

“What did you think, Beth?” Roger interjected.

“Me? Well, I’m hardly an expert.”

“Nonsense. You are the expert. You’re our audience. So what did you think?” Before she could answer, Roger added, “Be brutally honest, but kind.”

She laughed. “Okay. I honestly thought you sounded great. The stage set up was impressive, the best I’ve ever seen, and I loved the way Chad interacted with the crowd. I’ve been to concerts where the band sounded exactly like they did on the radio, but had no real connection with the audience, and they weren’t nearly as fun. But...”

“But what?” Roger prompted, sitting up straighter.

She felt all eyes on her. Here was her opportunity. “You didn’t play ‘I Just Had to Have You Last Night.’ I love that song.”

He smiled, appearing relieved the criticism was mild. “Yeah. I love it, too, but I feel like something’s missing. We may have to rework it.”

She glanced in Chad’s direction. “But I thought—”

Roger anticipated her confusion. “Chad writes the music and sings the music and plays lead guitar and all, but I’m the real brains behind this operation. I decide what we play and what we don’t. While Pretty Boy’s off doing interviews and such, I’m back here slaving away, making the real magic happen.”

There was a general uproar with his statement and Roger was pelted with couch pillows.

She again raised her eyes to scope out Chad. The singer was shaking his head in amusement and laughing quietly, but was standing apart from the others, behind the couch, almost lurking in the shadows like some specter. She witnessed his love for his brother and for Roger, yet he kept himself at a distance. As she tried to figure out the famous rocker, she couldn’t help but admire his long legs, which were crossed at the ankles, and the well-defined biceps of his arms folded across his chest. Though she had never really considered anyone’s hands before, even the length of his fingers she found indescribably beautiful as they curled loosely around his arms. He wore a leather cord around his wrist, Beth noted, and several silver rings on his fingers. She wondered idly if they ever interfered with his guitar playing. She realized the singer’s gaze had shifted to her and was forced to pretend she was supremely interested in what Roger was saying.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m falling asleep.”

She started at the sound of her daughter’s voice. “No,
I’m
sorry, babe. We’ll go.” She stood and helped Cassie to her feet. “I want to thank you all so much for your help,” she said to the group, looking at each one. “Especially you, Chad,” she ended awkwardly. Should she call him by his first name? They hadn’t even been introduced, but somehow Mr. Evans seemed wrong.

He started to step up, but Roger spoke for the group. Coming forward, he took both of Beth’s hands in his for a minute. “We’re just so sorry this happened to you. Both of you,” he added, reaching out to touch Cassie’s arm.

“Thank you.”

She gave Chad one more wistful glance over her shoulder before turning to leave.

***
              

Just as they moved to the door, it opened. Chad noticed Beth jumped a little, but it was only Pete and Dante returning.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Pete began. “The police came and es
corted the”—he cleared his throat—“
men,
” the bodyguard asserted as if he would have chosen another word to describe them, “to the hospital, as you wanted, miss, but there didn’t seem to be any serious injuries.”

Chad noticed his own sense of relief was mirrored in Beth’s face.

“They said with the lateness of the hour and such, you could just come down to the police department tomorrow. They left their card.” Pete handed her the card, adding, “We can walk you out to your car if you are ready to go.”

“Yes. We’re exhausted and we actually have our own ‘gig’ of sorts tomorrow.”

“We’re singing in a Christmas concert at the Old Cathedral. Mom’s got a big solo.”

“Oh,
Cas. They don’t want to hear about that,” Beth commented, blushing. “Thank you again.” She shook Roger’s hand, and then goodbyes were exchanged all around. When she took Chad’s hand, she turned it over to examine his knuckles and then looked up at him with concern. “I hope it won’t hurt your guitar playing.”

“Nah.” He waved off the idea, but a glimpse at his knuckles caused him to flashback to the horror he saw in her eyes when she watched him flailing away at a senseless man like some sort of savage. He withdrew his hand as if it were somehow tainted, then instantly regretted doing so. She peered at him, her brows furrowed for a second and a frown of concentration on her face.

Chad didn’t know what came over him earlier. But yet, he did. The things always eating away at his insides just came to the surface for a minute. Beth turned to leave, and on impulse, he reached for her arm. When she turned back around, he asked, “Would you mind if I called you tomorrow to check on you? To see how you’re feeling?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. But if you want to…we’re at the
Daltry Inn down by the riverfront.”

“Isn’t that the one right by the Arch?”

“Yes, that’s the one. It’s very close to here.”

“What time will you be up?”

“The concert’s not until two, but with going to the police station…nine, at the very latest. But you probably sleep in way past then.”

“No, it’s all right. I’ll call you.”

“Who are you kiddin’?” Roger snorted. “You never see him before noon. I don’t even think he owns an alarm clock.”

Chad shot him a dark look, but continued. “Do you mind if I walk you out, too?” He could feel, rather than see, Roger getting ready to make another smartass comment over his shoulder, so he quickly planted an elbow in his ribcage.

Beth appeared to catch the movement and gazed at the pair with a quizzical expression before responding. “Of course.”

The group proceeded out the door with Chad trailing behind.

As the door closed, he heard Keith query, “Do you think they’ll sue us?” Turning back, Chad saw the rest of the group looking at Keith balefully. “What? You all were thinking the same thing. You just didn’t have the balls to say it.”

Michelle picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it at him.

***
          

As Pete held the outer door open for the women, he started in on Chad. “What? Now you takin’ over my whole duties for me? Ya gotta walk ‘em out, too?”

“Don’t worry about me taking over your job, Pete,” he replied ruefully as he rubbed his hands, stepping out of doors.

It was a common argument for the two.
He
He resisted having a bodyguard from the start. It took David a long time to convince him that with extreme fans comes an increased element of danger and a need for professional protection. Chad felt like it was a blow to his ego for a big guy like him to hire a bodyguard. After all, he did have well-muscled arms from his guitar playing and from lugging the heavy amplifiers before they made it big. But when Trapped Under Ice’s first album went platinum in 2001, Pete was able to sell him on the idea of personal protection by explaining it was the star’s job to concentrate on music while the bodyguard focused on the musician’s safety.

“Yeah. And how about that?” Pete continued, grabbing Chad’s arm and holding his hand up in the parking lot’s lights. “
Ya bust your hand, who’s gonna play your guitar? Dante, here?” They chuckled. But Pete’s face turned serious. “I mean it, man. Why didn’t you call me?”

“There wasn’t any time,” Chad argued. “And I did send Cassie in to get you.”

“Yeah, yeah. But it’s my job to keep you safe from the crazed fans who attack you.”

“But this wasn’t a crazed fan attacking me, Pete. If it were, I would have waited for you to come out and save me,” he added with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

“Everybody’s a smartass,” Pete mumbled under his breath.

But the suggestion of the mad fan made Chad wonder. “So, Beth, were you chaperoning Cassie here to the concert?”

“Oh no,” Cassie interrupted. “I bought the tickets for my mom as an early Christmas present. Mom is a huge fan, right, Mom? I don’t think her CD player will play anything
but
Trapped Under Ice.”

“Is that so?” He couldn’t help the grin.

Pete and Dante were now involved in their own conversation, ignoring the three ahead of them. The group reached Beth’s small, sporty sedan, alone in the parking lot, and the bodyguards hung back.

Chad spotted a copy of their newest CD on the dashboard and pointed to it. “Ah, I see.”

Beth looked embarrassed, but she admitted, “When I’ve had a long day, I like to turn the music up and sing really loud.”

“She’s nearly made me deaf,” Cassie teased.

“Really?” He crossed his hands over his chest and eyed Beth with humor, but sensing her discomfort, he changed the subject. “Couldn’t find a better parking space than this?” he joked, indicating the distance to the stadium with a sweep of his hand.

“
Somebody
was running late.” Beth gestured in Cassie’s direction, and then pressed the remote entry key to pop the locks. “Couldn’t decide whether to wear her hair up or down.”

“
Mom
!” Cassie censured with all the general teenagerness she could gather. She walked around to the far side of the car to get into the passenger’s seat.

He opened the car door for Beth. She hesitated before getting in.

“Thank you for everything.”

He nodded, unsure of how to respond. “I’ll call you at nine.”

She gazed at him for a minute with those arresting eyes of hers, as if she had something to say. He stood, his fingers wrapped over the top of the doorframe, but she seemed to change her mind and climbed into the car seat. He closed the door carefully, then stepped back as she started the engine.