Page 8 of Extended Bridge (Passionate Beats #2)

Chapter Five

I stand off to the side of the stage, watching UC do their sound check in the famed Madison Square Garden.

None of them are wearing their rock star gear.

Not a ring or guyliner or whiff of hairspray.

(Be that as it may, Río’s still not sporting a shirt.) It’s just five guys on a massive stage, ensuring their music will reach all the ears at tonight’s concert.

Up there with their buds, rocking out.

Could be in a garage or on this stage—a group of talented men doing what they love. I can only imagine how their fans would react to such an intimate look at their heroes. My heart pings.

I push these sappy feelings to the side and examine Bennett’s movements at the microphone. He’s being careful not to exacerbate his injury, which is good. My vision slides over to the keyboard, where Tristan plays.

In my mind’s eye, Darren’s there. Laughing and hamming it up and hitting the keys. His beautiful smile gleams at his bandmates. His brothers.

Over the loudspeaker, a discombobulated voice says, “Think we almost got it, guys. ”

Onstage, they stop playing. My eyelids blink in double time and I’m returned to the present where Río stands from behind the drum kit and lumbers to Coop, who punches Pierce on his shoulder.

Tristan joins the group, and someone laughs.

Probably Río. Bennett stands among the guys. Not friends, my ass.

“So, Jenna, right?” A male voice asks from my right side.

I turn and am greeted by a mountain of a man. As tall as he is wide, with tattoos on both sleeves. Hoping he’s on the side of good, I reply, “That’s me.” I extend my right hand and we shake.

“I’m part of the crew. Name’s Jeb.”

Good, then. “Nice to meet you, Jeb. What are you responsible for?”

He points to his chest. “I’m on staging. We do setup and breakdown for all the guys’ concerts.”

I examine the stage, with catwalks that extend above the audience. “What you’re saying is you really don’t have too much to do?”

He chuckles. “Oh, a little bit of this and a little bit of that.” He rubs his massive chest. “So, I heard you’re Bennett’s personal physical therapist.”

Supposedly confidential news travels fast. “I’ve been hired to help him rehab an injury.”

He places his palms on his back. Glancing around the venue, he lowers his voice, “Do you have any suggestions about how I could strengthen my back? I pulled it while we were setting up.”

My therapist antennae spring up. As I can tell Jeb’s embarrassed about his injury, I need to address his question with care.

“Back injuries must happen often in your line of work.” His nod encourages me to continue.

“I can give you some exercises to do before you report for a shift, which should help strengthen your back. I also can provide you with some things to do at the gym on the regular to address your back muscles.”

His eyes widen. “You could do that for me?”

“Of course.” I pull out my phone. “What’s your number? I’ll send you a suggested gym workout.” He gives me his digits and I text him mine. “Give me a couple of hours and I’ll text you some exercises. Feel free to reach out with any questions.”

“Appreciate it.” The teddy bear of a man envelops me in a big hug.

A tenor voice booms, “What’s going on here?”

Jeb releases me and we turn to face the inquisitor. Not wanting to get the roadie into any trouble, I say, “I’m meeting your crew, Bennett. Jeb here has a big job, making sure your staging is perfect.” Not going to share Jeb’s secret.

Bennett tilts his chin and he stares at the ceiling. A sure tell he’s annoyed. “Hey, man. Everything going alright?”

The roadie, unknowing of Bennett’s simmering ire, puffs his chest. “Sure is.”

“That’s great. Thanks for all you do.” Green eyes skewer me. “Can I speak with you for a moment?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond. Grabbing my arm, he tugs me toward an empty row of seats.

When we stop, I yank my arm free. “Jeb deserves more than a perfunctory thanks. He’s part of your crew that makes sure your staging is perfect for your performance. He does important work.”

“Don’t you think I know this already?” He bends his knees to be level with my sight line. “I’ve hired every single person on this tour.”

I’m not going to be pushed aside. I square my shoulders. “Then you should be more appreciative of the work they do.”

“Who says I’m not grateful? Maybe I didn’t like the big guy monopolizing your time.”

Oh shit. Why did I think we could reset? When he goes all alpha male like this, I see desire simmering right up to the surface. Well, so what? We all have jobs to do. “How’s the leg?”

He blinks. “It’s a four. Not the issue at the moment.”

“It’s the only issue.” My thumb and pinky rub together as I control my anger. “Aren’t you needed for a sound check or something?”

He eliminates the space between us. “My part is over. We already played here last night. Since I don’t play an instrument, they only have to make sure my mic is working properly.”

“That’s what the control board meant before?”

“Yeah.” His hands skim my body, from shoulders to my waist, without actually touching any part of me. “I’m sorry I went all caveman on Jeb over you. You do strange things to my head.”

“Right back at ‘ya.”

Luke’s voice comes over the speaker system. “B, ready?”

Next to me, his arms drop. He yells, “I’m just collecting Jenna and we’ll be there in a minute.” He licks his lips. “It’s time to interview a new guitar tech to replace Chico. Are you ready to see how we do it?”

“Of course.” I nod, trying to get my wayward breathing under control. “Lead the way.”

We meander through a maze of seats until we meet up with Luke in a side corner. I check out the stage from here. “People sitting here will have a good vantage point if they bring binoculars.”

Luke grins. “That’s why we charge less for these seats.

These guests will be able to enjoy the concert and see everything that’s going on, plus be part of the balloon drop at the end.

Unfortunately, they won’t get as up close and personal with the band as people who pay more and are seated near the stage or catwalk. ”

The elaborate staging is impressive. It was created for maximum interaction with the fans. “Jeb and his crew do an amazing job.”

“That they do,” Luke answers. “We pride ourselves on hiring the best roadies and techs. We’re a damn traveling family!” He chuckles, and I follow suit. Bennett does not. I need to get to the bottom of his trust issues .

That is, when the lead singer isn’t trying to come on to me or prevent me from talking with the crew.

Bennett refocuses us on the work at hand. He flips through a stack of papers, then hands me an identical one. “These are the resumes of the guitar tech candidates we’re going to interview. Our team has reviewed all applicants and shorted them down to the top five, who we’re going to meet now.”

They have five prospects? I usually start with ten, fearing I’ll miss someone good. I make a mental note to review this policy as it would save me time with physical therapists in the future. My need for a top ten list is strong, however. Should it be broken?

Shaking my head, I peruse the resumes. “They all look impressive on paper.”

“That’s why we’re meeting all of them.” Luke glances at the resumes. “By the time we’re done, we’ll have picked the newest member of our crew.”

I sputter. “You’re interviewing all five now ? What’s that going to take? Like ten hours? Don’t you have a concert to put on?”

Bennett chuckles. “Things go differently with us, I suppose. These interviews will be around thirty minutes each. We meet, talk with them to get a feel for how they operate, then make a quick gut decision.”

“A what?” His words don’t compute. “Don’t you have to, I don’t know, have them play or something?”

Bennett looks like he wants to talk, but Luke is quicker on the draw.

“That’s already been done in the previous rounds.

We have a team who reviews all the resumes and invites interesting candidates to come in and do an initial meeting.

The top of the crop is then invited to come back to show off their experience with guitars.

In this case, B and I are the final round.

Within thirty minutes of meeting someone, we know if they’ll be a fit or not. ”

“Sometimes we pick different candidates, but more often than not, we agree,” Bennett adds. “The entire process will be over, including an offer made, within three hours.”

“Wow.” I can’t imagine being so streamlined.

I’m the one who vets and interviews all job applicants.

Maybe I could involve the managers on the front end rather than the back?

Definitely something to consider. The two men stare at me.

“So different from how I do things, but I like it. It takes me hours upon hours to hire someone. ”

“Glad to put your brain to work. Hope you can buy back some time using our method.” Luke shuffles the resumes and holds up the first one. Kieron Malone. He whispers to a stagehand to bring him to us.

While we wait, I read his CV. He’s toured with a couple of other bands, once as a backup guitarist and other times as a guitar tech. He also plays keyboards and can do backup vocals. Seems like a pretty talented guy.

A tall, lanky man wearing a pair of jeans is brought toward us.

He has long blond hair, with the unfortunate distinction of being a similar shade to mine.

He’s also wearing it in a ponytail. He sports a goatee, wears a nose ring, and has one sleeve covered in tattoos.

In short, he looks like a member of a band.

Luke takes the lead. “Hi, Kieron is it?”

He smiles, his light blue eyes scanning the Garden. Not surprising, it’s an amazing venue. “That’s me.” He’s introduced to all of us.

“It says here you’ve done some touring,” Bennett begins. “How did you like your experience?”