The Obsession(81)

“Oh yeah. They sure let that place go. Never did have much what you’d call creativity with the landscaping. And Dikes never gave a shit.”

“Loo’s ex,” Xander explained.

“Stayed stoned most of the time. I should know since I got stoned with him. I don’t do that so much anymore,” he said to Naomi. “I could take a look up there, if you want. Give you some ideas.”

“I could probably use the ideas.”

“No charge for thinking. Here comes Dave and Trilby.”

Dave the drummer, Naomi remembered. Broad shoulders, compact build, brown hair worn in a kind of modified Caesar. Jeans, a faded Aerosmith T-shirt, banged-up brown hiking boots. Trilby—keyboards—made a striking contrast. Smooth dark skin, wide dark eyes, a head full of dreads. Cargo pants and a red tee on a gym-ripped body.

They hauled in their equipment while Xander called out introductions. It helped that everyone had full hands and tasks. She always had a problem meeting so many people at once.

Of course the dog eased any awkwardness, happily roaming from one to another after he’d sniffed enough to reassure himself they were okay.

“I took a look at your website,” Dave said to Naomi as he set up his drums. “Slick. I’m in charge of the band’s. Not so slick. Techwise, it rocks—that’s what I do—but the look doesn’t hit it hard.”

Since she’d taken the time to view it herself, she couldn’t disagree. “It’s really thorough, and easy to navigate.”

He grinned. “Which is saying yeah, the look blows. I was wondering if we could get some shots today I could use there, juice it up.”

“I’ve got some ideas.”

“Good, because in that area I’m fresh out. My wife said maybe we should go more retro.”

“You’re married?”

“Eight years, two kids.”

She couldn’t say why she’d assumed he, and the rest of the band, would be single.

At the serious engine roar, Dave adjusted the angle of his snare. “That’ll be Ky. Lead guitar,” Dave added, as she watched the big, black, tricked-out Harley roar up.

Tall, dark, and dangerous, she thought. You couldn’t say handsome, not with the narrow face, the scruffy goatee, the hawkish nose and just overly generous mouth.

But he made you look.

He aimed eyes as dark as his hair at Naomi. “Hi there, Slugger.”

Xander glanced over from setting up the speakers. “Naomi, Ky.”

“Yeah, I saw you put Marla on her knees the other night. She’d earned it.”

“Nobody’s seen her for a couple days,” Lelo said.

“Yeah, I just heard about that.” With a kind of practiced shrug, Ky swung his guitar case off his back. “Hooked up with somebody at the bar. Wouldn’t be the first time. You had a lost weekend with her back when, didn’t you, Lelo?”

“A half a weekend, in a weak moment.”

“We all have ’em. Got beer, Keaton?”

“Cooler, outside the bay.”

He gave Naomi a lazy smile. “Want one, Rocky?”

“No, thanks.”

“Water and soft stuff in there, too.”

“I’d take a water.”

She put her hands on her hips, looked around.

Yeah, she had ideas.

“I’m going to take some basics, just to warm everybody up, test the waters. You’re set up like you are onstage, so go ahead, play something.”

She pulled out her Nikon, changed the lens, checked her light meter as they got in position, decided what to play.

“Dave’s got his Aerosmith on, so let’s go there,” Xander suggested.

“Don’t look at me unless I tell you to,” Naomi ordered, and began to shoot.

Standard, she thought. Good, solid, but standard. She got some decent head shots, some wide angles, some where she let the motion blur.

When the last chord crashed down, she lowered the camera.

“Okay. Now, we’re not doing any of that. I need to see the wardrobe options. Lelo, I want to stick with what you’ve got on, but let’s see what else there is.”

Men, she thought as she pawed through the choices, should learn how to be more creative.

“I bet you’ve got more stuff in your trucks, your trunks.”

Lelo came up with an old, oversized army jacket. She tossed it at Dave. “You.”

“Seriously?”

“Trust me.” She pulled out a white T-shirt. “You’ve had this awhile, right?” she asked Xander.

“Yeah.”

“Okay then.” She took it over to a grease stain, dropped it, rubbed it in with her foot. “Better,” she decided when she picked it up. “Better yet, smear some motor oil on it.”

“You want me to smear oil on the shirt.”

“Yeah, like you got some on your hand, swiped your hand over the shirt.” She demonstrated. “Do that, put it on. Trilby, is that red T-shirt new?”

“Kind of.”

“Then I’m sorry, but I need to rip it.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re built, and I want to see some skin and muscle.”

Lelo let out a hoot.

“Across the pecs, okay? Xander, I need some chain—not too heavy.”