Cover Me: A Rock Star Romance (12 page)

“I know you don’t lie. I don’t want you to.”

He scratched the cat’s ears and his head wobbled like it was too heavy to hold up. “I’ll call you out on your bullshit.”

“I’ll call you on yours.”

He nodded and almost fell face first into the couch cushions. The cat bolted. “I’m taking you home. You better not puke in my car.”

“Prius puke,” he mumbled. A small smile tugged at his lips.

I stood up and took him by the hand. “Come on, superstar, let’s get out of here.”

I didn’t think he could make it off the couch, but he did. I pulled his arm around my shoulders and prayed he didn’t fall and crush me like a bug. When we got to the foyer, John was coming down the stairs. “I’ve got him,” he said, rushing toward us.

“Thanks.” I closed the door behind us and followed John and Derek out to my car.

With John’s help, Derek was in my passenger seat and ready to go. He shook John’s hand. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

John smirked. “If this lasts between you two, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to rescue me. I’m married to Emmy, remember?”

Derek laughed, but his glazed eyes looked like he was about to pass out. “Bye, John,” I said, giving him a wave over my car. “Tell Emmy I’ll call her later.”

I pulled out and headed down the road. “So much for writing today.” He didn’t answer. “Guess with the week you’ve had you deserved to blow off some steam.” Still, no response.

I glanced over and he was leaning against the window out cold.

Derek

I
woke shivering
in the dark huddled over my knees. A bus had crashed into my head while I slept and left it throbbing and my brain scrambled. Last time I felt like this I woke up on a park bench in London with paparazzi snapping cameras in my face. Where the hell was I this time?

My burning eyes focused and I looked around the tiny cramped space. I’d either been abducted by aliens who flew around in the universe’s smallest UFO or I was in Bess’s Prius.

I was rooting for the aliens, but unfortunately, it was all rushing back. The bar, the shots, John, Emmy—such a bitch—and Bess showing up. What a fucking embarrassment. I thought I left these days behind me when I went solo. No band mates to make you do stupid shit like drink until you black out or pop unidentified pills. Now Bess ended up being my reason to get absolutely shitfaced.

The muscles in my calves and thighs were seizing. I opened the door to stretch and get out and a note fluttered down onto the driveway. There was just enough light shining from the porch to read by.

Come inside when you wake up.

B

This woman and I were like titans clashing. She got under my skin and into my blood and made me want to scream. I wanted to laugh with her and I wanted to lash out at her. I wanted to keep her close and push her away. I wanted to hold back and I wanted to fuck her like nobody ever has before.

I wanted everything with her.

I wadded up the note and shoved it in my pocket on my way to her front door. It was unlocked. I went into the kitchen first and got a drink of water then dug around for some aspirin in the bathroom cabinet.

Bess’s bedroom door was open at the end of the dark hallway. I crept in, careful not to wake her. Moonlight cast the room in bluish shadow. She lay sleeping on her side with her hand under her cheek and her hair draped over one eye.

I stood just inside the doorway watching her. Her lips were parted and I could barely detect the rise and fall of her shoulder with each breath. The noise and clutter and frenzy of her sister’s house rushed to mind. John and Emmy and their three girls. Did Bess want that?

Did I?

Was that the motive for making everything in my life all mine—all under my control? The lack of having my own home, my own family, kids even to remind me what was real and what was fleeting, like stardom? Everything in my life could be gone in a heartbeat.

Even Bess.

I walked to where she lay on the bed and knelt beside her. If I could lock her away in a bottle and keep her with me at all times, I would. Losing her wasn’t an option. I could be crass and careless and stupid. She was a smart woman—too smart to put up with me, but she had to. I had to make her stay with me.

The past nine years seemed like it happened to someone else. I blinked and it was over. There was a hole where Bess had been, but when she left for college, I stuffed the hole with my band and touring and fame. I told myself I wasn’t supposed to miss the girl next door, that leaving her behind was part of growing up and moving away.

Maybe we would’ve never gotten together if we’d never been apart.

Her eyelids flickered. Was she dreaming? I hoped she was dreaming about me and it was good. Not a nightmare.

I laid my head on the bed beside hers. She smelled like powder and soap. Without her glasses and makeup, she could be fourteen again. Her lips quirked into a smile. “See anything you like?” she whispered.

A flaming ball of heat expanded in my chest. “Only everything.” I reached out and brushed her hair back from her face.

“Nothing is
only
anything with you,” she said, her sleepy eyes opening. “Get in bed.”

I stripped to my underwear and climbed in behind her. My legs tangled with hers and I was happy to find her in a thong and a silky tank. I propped myself up on my elbow and looked down at her. “Pissed?” I asked.

“No.” She rolled onto her back. “Drained. We need to stop doing this.”

I placed my hand on the side of her face and she turned into it to kiss my palm. “We’re both hot headed.” I traced my thumb back and forth over her cheek. “I open my mouth before I think and you storm off.”

“What do we do?” She took my hand from the side of her face and held it tight in both of hers. Desperation creased her eyes. “I want this to work.”

“It will.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “We’ll make it work.”

I gathered her in my arms and guided her head onto my chest. Neither of us spoke. There was nothing to say—no answers for how to go forward from here. All I knew was we had to get our relationship on solid footing before going back to L.A. If we couldn’t make it work while hiding out in Santa Cruz, we might as well forget trying to be together in L.A. where the world would rush in and shove us under a microscope.

“Are you asleep?” she whispered after a while had passed.

“No.”

“I’m afraid.”

I twisted a finger around her hair. “Of what?”

“Have you ever wanted something so badly that you force it to happen? Like pushing a square peg in a round hole? It’s not meant to be, but you make it happen anyway, so it’s destined to fail.”

“Hey.” I turned her chin to make her look up at me. “We’re not destined to fail. Just because something doesn’t come easy doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant to be. Does it feel to you like we aren’t meant to be?”

“No. It feels like everything I’ve ever wanted, but we always end up fighting.”

“Is it bad that it’s worth fighting for?” I pulled her hair back and held it in my hand at the nape of her neck. “I’d rather have you fighting with me than apathetic.”

She pressed her hand to my chest and splayed her fingers. “Will it always be like this?”

“I don’t think so. We’re finding our footing.”

She sighed and rested her head back down. “Not to change the subject, but you smell like a distillery.”

I laughed and she smiled up at me. “I’m done drinking for a long, long time. I learned my lesson waking up inside your Matchbox car.”

“I couldn’t wake you up.” She propped her chin on my chest.

“Thanks for bringing me home. I’d probably be passed out under the bar right now.”

Her eyes scanned my cheek. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you have a slight bruise on your jaw.” She touched a spot beside my chin where her hand had made contact.

“That’s okay. I’ll just tell everyone I have an abusive girlfriend and sell a million pity records.” I grabbed her hand and kissed her fingertips.

“There you go,” she said. “Way to turn lemons into lemonade.”

“We should have a lemonade stand. We made a killing that summer.” She rolled her eyes at me. “What? Almost twenty bucks. That was ice cream truck money until fall.”

“Dare to dream, Derek Bast. Dare to dream.” She gave me a peck on the lips and snuggled down into my side, yawning.

“I hope I have a repeat of the dream I was having this morning.”

She didn’t answer. I glanced down at her to find her already asleep.

“Adrian’s coming
here?”

Derek and I sat on the wicker sofa on the back patio of his parents’ house. He held his cell phone in his hand, checking the messages he missed over the past couple days.

“He wants to. Says we need to talk about me walking out of the contract.” He pressed a button on his phone and put it back up to his ear.

“Talk about what?” I asked. “You ended it. There isn’t much left to talk about, is there?” Adrian was coming here? I’d never met the twenty-year-old who made young girls swoon and write fan fiction about him.

“No idea.” Derek tossed his phone on the cushion beside him and picked up his guitar. “I left a message telling him anytime he wanted to come up, I’d meet him.”

“How pissed was
he
about my review?”

“I’ve never seen Adrian express emotion. He might be a robot.”

“An unholy robot?” I laughed at my joke and Derek smiled.

“You’re such a nerd.” He reached over and rubbed his knuckles across the top of my head.

“Hey!” I pushed his hand away and straightened my hair. His mom kept peeking out the window. “Kate’s freaking me out.”

“It’s what she does.” He strummed, studying the notes he jotted down.

“She’s probably hiring spies in L.A.”

“Like she doesn’t already have them?” He winked at me, but I wasn’t sure he was joking.

“Maybe we should get her a dog.”

His phone buzzed and he picked it up, thumbing through the screens. “Email from Adrian. He’ll be here tomorrow at two. Can I give him your address, or should Kate be in on this?”

“My address.”

He grinned while typing his reply. “I wonder why his manager didn’t contact me? He usually has him do everything. He probably wipes his ass.”

“Unwelcome mental image.” I dug around in my bag for my phone. I needed to call Karen back and set her straight. I dialed the number and put her on speaker. It rang and Derek glanced over at me.

“The Scene. This is Karen.”

I kept my eyes locked on Derek’s. “Hi Karen. Sorry about yesterday. Listen, I—”

“Can you get that exclusive with Bast or not? I’ve got a call in to his manager—ex-manager.”

“Karen, Bast is off limits. He’ll come to us if he wants coverage from The Scene.”

His eyes were bright green in the noon sun. The intense expression on his face softened and he took the phone from my hand. “Karen, this is Derek Bast. Be at Bess’s parents’ house in Santa Cruz tomorrow at two for an exclusive with me and Adrian.”

Karen inhaled sharply. “Seriously?”

I laughed. “Seriously,” Derek said, handing me the phone.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” I told her, visualizing her hyperventilating at her desk.

“Two o’clock,” she said. “I’ll be there.”

We hung up and I set my phone down. “Thank you.” He stared into my eyes and I wanted to be able to read his mind. “What?” I whispered.

“I trust you.”

I wanted to tell him I trusted him too, but the words still wouldn’t come out. Old feelings were hard to bury and I wasn’t sure I could open that door yet and bare my soul, be that vulnerable.

He patted his guitar, making a hollow sound. “Think I have the chorus written.”

“Let me hear it.” I sat back and kicked my feet up on the wicker table in front of us. The sun was hot and a warm breeze blew from the ocean crashing in the distance. Sometimes you couldn’t hear it at all, but today it was a faint background noise, like someone crinkling tissue paper.

Derek worked through the chords of the introduction and first verse, humming along. I knew he’d written a few lines that could work as lyrics, but preferred to get the chorus done first, claiming it was the heart of the song.

He hit the pre-chorus and started singing along.

“Whenever I’m lost and lonely

All I have to do is think of you.

You’re the one who has always known me.

The one who will see me through.

You’re my tru-ue north, tru-ue north.

Lead me in the right direction and

Guide me to the place you are.

You’re my tru-ue north. Tru-ue north.

Oh baby, tru-ue north. True-ue north.”

He frowned a bit and reworked the key of the last line, singing it over. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s a little more pop ballad than I’m used to, but I think I can work with it.”

“Give it a blues or a jazz vibe.”

“Could work.”

“You’re getting your footing,” I said, and kissed his cheek.

I sat with my laptop for the rest of the afternoon, listening to him compose and watching him write and erase and try something new. With every repeated melody, words drifted through my head. I started typing them.

Don’t ever think you’re too far away. I’ll always be able to find you.

I see through the mask you wear for the crowd. You can’t hide the real you from me.