Backstage with Her Ex by Louisa George Page B

verse, see if it sounds less...busy. And the alto needs to be stronger in “Ways of a Saint”...have you thought about a more abrupt ending instead of the way it finishes on the original?’
    â€˜Whoa...slow down.’ She held her palms up, scrabbled round for a pen and paper and started jotting down bullet points. ‘Isn’t that a bit radical?’
    â€˜No. You’ve got to give them something that surprises them. Trust me. This is my job, I live and breathe this kind of stuff.’ He hadn’t even started, but pointing out all their failings would take time he didn’t have. And he didn’t much like the idea of hanging around this hall, with all its ghosts and memories, for the next millennia.
    â€˜Do you want to walk the kids through your ideas? I’m sure it’d be better coming from you.’
    â€˜What? Me? Teach? Them? No, thanks. Like I said, I’ve got to go.’ Always the outsider, he’d never felt as if he’d belonged in this place so there were no warm fuzzies or sentimental reasons keeping him here. None at all. Nothing to compel him to help any more than he already had.
    â€˜What? Mr Fabulous and oh-so wild, Mr Off His Head Crazy...scared of a bunch of mixed-ability kids?’ She laughed. ‘That’s hysterical.’
    He couldn’t see a funny side. ‘I’m just busy. Not scared.’
    â€˜Prove it, hot-shot music man. Prove you’re not scared.’ The paper fluttered to the floor as she stared him down, her eyes a mix of serious intent and a playful tease that tugged at long-buried heartstrings.
    Prove it. Her mouth formed the words but no sound accompanied them. For a moment he thought she might stick out her tongue as well.
    â€˜Don’t be immature.’
    Then her voice came, soft and appealing. ‘Imagine how fantastic it would have been if you’d had a mentor all those years ago. If someone had helped you, even for a few minutes. It might have made such a difference. What have you got to lose?’
    She was right. Guidance was scant back then. No one was interested in a loud-mouthed kid with an over-inflated sense of musical skill and entitlement. But...if someone had helped...
    He shook his head, shocked he was even considering this...but even if he didn’t make a difference to their performance, getting involved could surely make some amends to the damage he’d wreaked when he was young and stupid. When he’d thought he knew what was best, and that the only way to solve problems involved a whole lot of aggression riding on a surge of testosterone.
    These kids needed help.
    Looking at their hopeful faces, he suddenly didn’t want to be the one to poop on their parade. And if that meant he spent more time with Sasha, then so be it. He could keep a lid on his libido.
    â€˜Okay. I can spare a few minutes. Bring that boy...’ he pointed to the Marshall lookalike, saw the big open grin and the thick palms, the intense need to please ‘...and...’
    And just like that his past came crowding back in on him along with a host of emotions he didn’t want. His voice caught as a dull ache gripped his chest. ‘Yes...more to the front, he’s got great rhythm and clearly loves it. You need enthusiasm like that to carry such a happy song.’
    Sasha glanced at the boy and then back at Nate. And clearly he hadn’t been hiding his feelings too well, because tears filled her eyes and she pressed a palm to her chest. ‘Oh, Nate. I’m so sorry.’
    That was all he needed, her pity.
    Back off. Because, in truth, Sasha was the only person in the world who’d understand the pain of losing Marshall. That was a part of his life he never shared and he wasn’t revisiting any of it again in a hurry. Not when she was within reach-out-and-hold distance.
    â€˜ Yeah, me too. ’ Forcing his voice through the Rock of Gibraltar that had lodged in his throat, he