When Kathleen emerged from the dressing room ten minutes later, Dalton’s mouth dropped open briefly. From her four inch high red sandal heels, to her ultra short denim skirt and red sequined tube top, she radiated a message of sexual prowess. The diamond in her belly button looked authentic.
“You pierced your belly button for this show?” he asked.
“Don’t be absurd. Daddy Kelsey would disown me. I used superglue.”
“And the dragon tats? ’ Dalton asked, admiring the intricate dragon snaking artfully up her calf and thigh.
“Fake,” she said, shrugging. “Again, Kelsey wouldn’t approve. He doesn’t handle one defacing one’s body well. It’s the body is a temple thing.”
With the sound of the intro to her next number, Kathleen hit the stage running, crossed to the far end, prancing in step with the beat, and then doubled back to where she started before presenting herself at the center of the stage.
Headset in place, she began her rendition of Wild Angels. Double guitars wailed while background singers added momentum. Dalton glanced at each of the musicians and understood immediately that Kathleen was their catalyst for the song, in complete control, urging them to produce notes possible to find only in the adrenaline fused heat of live performance. He also understood that, at that moment, she was in love with her band and they with her.
He envied the ability of musicians to bind their hearts and minds together to create their art. While his younger brother, Tyler, had been blessed with innate musical talent, Dalton had been given the sincere desire, abundant finances and intelligence to enable the singers, writers and musicians he knew to create. Every musician and background singer on stage had benefited from his mentoring.
When the twin guitars started their musical break, Kathleen leapt gracefully to the raised drum stand and struck a pose, playing air guitar as they coaxed their instruments through several intricate riffs that echoed in the rafters. The hairs on Dalton’s arms rose to attention when Kathleen jumped from the drum rise, skidded to the front of the stage and dropped to her knees only to spring to her feet without a missed beat. Audience cheers overrode her vocals, but only for the time it took for Tyler to rev up the sound of her mike. Then began an intricate light show that bedazzled. Dalton watched in awed appreciation of the work that had obviously gone into her performance.
Crowded around the edge of the stage, the audience became a part of the spectacular, hands raised high, clapping in time with the base drum, pushing the musical parade to even higher levels. As quickly as it had begun, the song ended. When the back lights came on casting the entertainers on stage into shadows standing statue-still, like black ghosts against a smoky blue mist, the cheers and whistles were deafening.
The stage went dark. Thump, thump, thump. The number started with only the base drum. Kathleen’s background singers were gathered around her when the lights flashed on. Their gyrating movements matched the crisp thump of the base guitar as it kicked in.
Background voices weighed in next. Using four part harmony, they sang softly, “Hearts on fire. Screaming desire. Hearts on fire. Screaming desire.” Their vocals became the backdrop for Kathleen’s voice.
“Ladies, we know what it’s like to want him so bad it hurts. Heart feels like it’s gonna’ burn out of your chest. And that fire below…” Bump. Grind. “Next time that happens, don’t hesitate. You only go around once, so go for it!”
The female response was immediate and wildly ecstatic. Kathleen’s voice dropped and in an almost-whisper she continued, “Come closer, Sisters. Let’s show our guys what we can do ahhhh…,” she moaned, “horizontally.” Bump. Bump. Bump. The half-circle at the front of the stage became exclusively female as women abandoned their male dance partners to join the feminine mob down front.
A moment of complete band and vocalist silence marked the calm before the storm.
How long had they practiced this number, Dalton wondered as he watched, stunned. He had seen less professional shows spend weeks in rehearsals. Watching, he isolated the catalyst for the excitement. Every eye on stage and in the audience was riveted to Kathleen. The background vocals glorifying her lead, the dancers’ body movements gyrating to her command, the music impeccably following her vocals, the audience with their hand-clapping, hip-gyrating dance were all to compliment the lady at center stage.
Dalton moved to the back of the room where he could have a clear view of the entire stage.
“She could be singing about peanut butter and these people would translate it to sexy,” Tyler said, sitting at the sound board behind Dalton. Tyler made a slight adjustment to the treble. “This songis mediocre at best, but Casteel Studios owns it. Figured I’d pull it out, dust it off and see what she could make of it. I asked her if she could punch it up with a little action. This is what she gave me.” Tyler grinned broadly. “She’s a natural, Brother. Nothing’s better.”
In the end, the music ended as it had begun, fading to a base drum. Thump. Thump. Thump. Kathleen struck a pose worthy of a fashion model until the final note died.
Dalton carefully made his way to the stage and took her hand as she came down the steps to the roar of applause. Breathless from her on-stage exertion, she ran alongside Dalton until they were safely back stage. She leaned against him, catching her breath. “The lyrics need work, but I love the music. What do you think?”
“Didn’t hear the first word,” he admitted. “That below the waist action got all my attention.”
“Too much?” she asked.
“Never,” he answered, smiling. “You put on one hell of a show.”
She laughed, radiating child-like happiness that he found completely intriguing.
“You still hungry, Miss O'Brian?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” she answered.
“Steak?” he asked.
“Lead me to it, Mr. Casteel,” she said, locking her arm through his.