Page 3 of Love is a Harmony
“Doubtful.” Ava would if he asked, but he wouldn’t ask.
“Noah, I need you to be smarter than that. I want to clean up your image before you go into the studio in a few months.”
His fans didn’t want clean. He’d known that from the start. “About the studio… I’ve decided I don’t want to record anything without Jo.” He braced for impact.
“But she’ll still be on the album. We can add in the drum parts later.”
Noah’s drummer, Jo Jackson, was currently hiding out in L.A., pregnant. They’d been together since they met working in a dive in New York when he was twenty. He’d left home, hoping to make it on his music in the states. That was nine years ago. Guitarists and bassists came and went, but Noah and Jo were a team. The singer and his drummer.
“You don’t get it, Mel. I don’t want to do any of it without her.” He couldn’t imagine singing in the studio without her looking in through the glass. She was his person.
Melanie was quiet for a long moment. “What about the pop-up concerts? You’re scheduled to return home in two days to do a series of solo shows.”
“No. I’m sorry, I can’t.” He didn’t know what it was about the thought of doing something on his own. Jo was his crutch, he knew that, but he wasn’t ashamed of it. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll be back when I’m back.”
“Fine. I’ll smooth this over with the label, but don’t miss our meeting tomorrow.”
The meeting. Rockstars Anonymous. He’d thought it was a joke when Melanie started the rock star support group five years ago. Now, it was a lifeline. “Okay, Mel. Talk then.” He hung up before she could decipher the lie in his voice.
Whenever he returned home, he tried to sever ties to his real life, at least for a while. It helped to separate the two. He had no intention of talking to Rockstars Anonymous from his family’s estate.
It took him half an hour to get out of the city and onto the winding countryside roads that would take him to Carson manor, named for his great-great-grandfather who’d suffered through a short term as prime minister. His brother had the burden of that name as well, and entering the grounds always made Noah think of Carson. How he’d loved his horses and galloped across the freshly mown lawns in front of the large brick manor.
Their mother chastised him, but he never stopped.
But Carson left them years ago, choosing to make his own path.
Wherever Carson was, Noah hoped he rode horses still.
Dust kicked up underneath his tires as he made his way up the long and familiar drive. Memories crashed in on him. The day Carson left was forever burned into his mind. Noah had been home to attend their grandad’s funeral. Carson came from his London townhouse with a baby in his arms, claiming he’d fathered her. Stella. Noah could still see her tiny hands as he’d held her while Carson argued with their parents.
The night ended in Carson taking Stella and leaving. Noah expected them to be back in the following days, but he hadn’t come. It took years for Noah to learn his parents didn’t believe the child was their blood. They accused the woman—who’d left—of manipulating Carson.
None of them had seen him since.
Noah parked behind the large heated barns as the sun dimmed in the sky, preparing to sink into the evening darkness. He ran a hand over his face and readied his nerves, looking down at his casual clothes, the wardrobe of a rock star. His parents wouldn’t approve.
But Nan would love it.
That thought put a smile on his face as he stepped out of the car. He didn’t bother knocking on the enormous oak door before pushing it open to reveal a marble-lined entryway. He waited for the onslaught of attention, but none came. The butler was nowhere to be found, and for that, he was grateful.
A maid appeared from a doorway and froze when she saw him. All who worked with the family signed non-disclosure agreements to keep them from telling the world Noah Clarke was one ofthoseClarke’s, second son of a lord.
“Hello.” He inclined his head to the maid.
“Sir, w-was the family expecting you?” She looked behind her. “Kinkaide isn’t here this week.” He was the butler.
Noah laughed. “They probably didn’t think I’d come home tonight, no.”
“D-do you have bags to take to your room?”
“I can handle it. Thank you.”
She hesitated a moment longer before scurrying away.
The sound of forks on plates reached Noah, and he headed toward the gleaming white kitchen. Everything was marble and stainless steel. Two cooks hurried through the space, not sparing a second glance for Noah as he walked toward the dining room, freezing in his tracks.
Every chair at the long wooden table was taken, mostly by people Noah recognized. Many eyes found him as he stared. Finally, his mother took note of his presence and rose from her chair. Her ebony hair was pulled away from her face, revealing hard eyes. “Forgive my son for his appearance.” Her eyes settled on Noah. “He will change and join us.”
