Page 6 of Conquest
She nodded quickly. “Consider it done, Mr. Arden.” She signaled for a young man to grab Evan’s bag, then motioned to the concierge desk. “Marcus is the concierge on staff tonight. He knows everything and anything about Chicago, and would be pleased to assist you should you have any questions. It is such a pleasure to have you staying with us, Mr. Arden. Welcome to the Ritz-Carlton.”
Evan glanced over his shoulder toward the concierge desk. The man behind it waved enthusiastically to him. Evan nodded in acknowledgment, then turned to follow the young man with his pack. Once in his room, he got the hot tub filling and stepped up to the window overlooking the city below. He sighed, braced his forearm against the glass, and laid his forehead on his arm.
A knock sounded on the door.
He pushed away from the window and went to retrieve the bottle of wine. With the door secured behind him, he headed for the hot tub, shedding his clothes on the way. He eased down in the churning hot water, his tense and knotted muscles already loosening, and took a long drink of wine from the bottle. He stared blankly at the water, then closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool, dark glass of the wine bottle.
What the hell was he doing here? All this time of wandering throughout the world wherever he pleased, he never once felt the desire to come back to the States until he found himself in Delphi.
He hadn’t been to Greece since his last world tour and figured it was as good of a destination as any, but he didn’t want to go to Athens since he had been there before, so he opened a map with the plan he would go to the first place his eyes fell on. His gaze locked on Delphi. After exploring the remains of the Temple of Apollo, he took a seat on a large boulder and sipped his bottled water while watching the sunset. It was then the sensation hit him that maybe it was time to come back to the States.
At the time, he pushed it aside as nothing more than sentimental homesickness. He decided to return to Japan to shake it off, but it persisted, so he booked a flight to L.A., and hopped another plane to Chicago since he knew his old friend and former producer, Greg Hansen, had moved to the Windy City with Phoenix Records when the label had relocated from New York, and really, he didn’t know where else to go. He didn’t want to go back to New York, so here he was, drifting without direction in a city he had breezed through a handful of times when touring.
Evan opened his eyes and looked at the clock in his room. It was too late at night to call Greg. He’d have to wait until morning, which meant what was he going to do with himself until then? He’d been through so many time zones his body’s clock didn’t know night from day. He shifted in the tub and took another drink of the wine. His body might be confused as to if it wanted food or sleep, but it knew one thing it wanted.
He shoved out of the hot tub, water dripped from his sleek body as he walked to the phone. His fingertips slid down his chest and abdomen to his full arousal, and he rested his hand on the hard flesh while he dialed the concierge desk.
“Hello Mr. Arden, this is Marcus. What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you knew who the hottest band in this city is.”
“Oh, that would be Conquest, without a doubt, sir.”
“Conquest? They any good?”
“They’re incredible. They came on the scene a little more than a year ago, but the second they hit, everyone was running to see them. Well actually, let me be honest. It’s not that they’re that good as in a collective group because they’ve changed members a few times, they’re constantly changing drummers and keyboardists, but it’s the singer and guitar player who are to die for. The guitarist, Kenny Cooper, is exceptional. But the one who truly makes the group is Jesse Alexander, the lead singer. His voice,” Marcus sighed into the phone, “it’s like ambrosia for the ears.”
“Is that so? Then maybe I should go see a different band. Normally I follow the creed of wherever the hottest band is then that’s where the hottest people are too, but if everyone’s going to be drooling over this little vocal god you’re describing, then maybe I should go somewhere else.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. You’re definitely fair competition for him.”
Evan chuckled softly. “Only fair, huh? You just hurt my ego, Marcus.”
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean—”
“I’m just teasing you. Do me a solid, though. Can you find out if this band is playing tonight and where? If I walk in and everyone is fainting over singer boy, then I’ll go somewhere else.”
“I’ll ring your room in less than ten minutes and let you know. Since it’s a Friday, I’m sure they’re playing somewhere.”
“Good. And while you’re at it, can you hook me up with a car? I don’t want anything flashy, just a nice SUV.”
“Certainly. Anything else?”
“No. I’ll talk to you in a little bit.”
Evan hung up the phone and fell back on the king-sized bed, the bottle of wine resting high between his thighs.
Evan paid the coverage charge to get into the bar, listening to the last jumble of notes to a fast rock song come to an unsteady halt.
“If that’s the best band in Chicago, this town needs help,” he muttered to himself.
The crowd quieted in anticipation. Evan looked up on stage. The lead singer had his back to the audience, waiting for the keyboardist to move. The keyboardist hopped back, and Jesse took over at the instrument facing the crowd. He announced the next song as titled “Shattered,” then followed with the opening soft notes from the keyboard. He closed his eyes, his fingers drifted across the keys, his honeyed tenor rose with the first verse of the ballad,
“I yelled for you as you walked away,
My voice a whisper…in the crowd…
