Cover Me: A Rock Star Romance (15 page)

I was in love with this man. I always had been. I always would be.

Before he was anyone else’s star, he was mine, singing in his bedroom at night for me to hear. I kissed his chest over his beating heart and laid my ear against it, closing my eyes to the rhythm, wishing to fall asleep like this every night.

Like déjà vu,
I woke to my cell buzzing and chiming, alerting me to calls and voicemails. I’d rolled off of Derek during the night and we slept like spoons, his hand snug between my breasts, my butt planted firmly against his crotch. I could feel the poke of his zipper, still down, and wondered why I hadn’t insisted on him taking his clothes off last night. It would be much nicer to wake up to him naked.

“Make it stop,” he grumbled, rolling over onto his back.

“It’s Karen.” I sat up, grabbed my shirt off the floor and started putting it on. Derek snatched it out of my hands.

“I’m not done playing with these yet,” he said, squeezing my boob.

I grabbed my shirt and whacked him with it. “I need to call her back. She’s coming today, remember?”

“So call.” He hopped off the bed, grabbed my bag and plopped it on my lap.

“Thanks.” I watched him, leery of what he had in mind, and dug my phone out.

Karen answered just as he settled in behind me and took a boob in each hand. “Hi,” I choked out, trying unsuccessfully to squirm away as he kissed my neck.

“Hi. Weird thing. Adrian sent out a press release that Unholy Union will be back in the studio recording tomorrow.”

“What?”
I turned over my shoulder to Derek, who looked like he’d just been punched.

“I heard,” he said, nodding to my phone at my ear.

“Let me put you on speaker, Karen.” I put the phone on the bed and pressed the button. “Okay.”

“Everybody’s reporting it and speculating what this means for Derek Bast.”

“It means nothing for Derek Bast,” he said. “Today should be interesting.”

“I’m getting ready to head there now,” she said. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything else on my way.”

“Thanks, Kay.”

“See you soon.” She hung up.

Derek grabbed the sides of his hair and tugged. “What the fuck?” he said, kind of singing it in a high-pitched voice and falling back onto the pillows.

“Maybe he…” I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

“He better have a good explanation when he gets here.”

“I could handle this better with pancakes.” I whipped my bra up off the carpet and managed to hook it without protest from him.

“As long as those pancakes come with coffee and bacon,” he said, scooting to the end of the bed. “And a lot of both.”

In fifteen minutes, we’d checked out of the hotel and I was behind the wheel of my car heading home where there was at least a hairbrush and toothbrush. The front of Derek’s dark hair stood on end in the front where it was a little longer. His stubble growth was thick. I reached over and scratched his chin. “You should keep this.”

He eyed me with a seductive smile. “You liked how that felt, huh?”

I did. “I like how it looks, too.”

He rubbed his hand across his jaw, licking his lips. “I’ll keep mine if you keep yours.” His eyes travelled south and stopped between my legs. “I like it.”

“That’s unusual. I thought men wanted it all gone.”

“Who told you that? Don’t say Jack or Lonny.” He chuckled. “They don’t count. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I like how it feels.”

“Good. I’ll stop shaving altogether. It’s a pain in the ass. Waxing’s expensive and hurts like a bitch.”

“Hold on. I didn’t say anything about a 70’s bush. What you have now works.”

I flicked on my signal to turn down our road. “I’m not sure how it is you get to decide what my grooming habits should be.”

He laughed. “Because your pussy’s mine. There’s no taking it back now. Nobody else gets to be anywhere near it.”

“Really?” I said, parking in my driveway. “You haven’t even planted your flag yet, Bast. What makes you think you can claim it?”

He reached over and cupped me between my legs. Leaning in, he took my earlobe between his lips and sucked before whispering, “I got the lay of the land last night. It’s only a matter of time before my flag is firmly planted, deep in your fertile ground.”

His voice sent shivers down my back, and his hand was hot between my legs. Then what he said sank in. “
Fertile
ground? Be careful what you wish for.”

“I don’t think that would be so terrible. In a few years.” He turned my face and kissed me, leaving his hand on my cheek. It was slow and lingering, loving. The kiss and his words made my head swim. What was he thinking? This was the second time he’d alluded to knocking me up. My mind formed images of our parents and us and Emmy, John and my nieces all on vacation together at Disney World. Derek and I with a dark haired little boy, or little girl? Either would be fine with me. The picture was perfect, how it was meant to be. How it always was. We’d been on vacations with the Bast’s before. Derek was already my family. It fit—he and I with our own family.

Of course, how would he walk around Disney World and not be mobbed?

“You have that strange look on your face again,” he said.

I smiled, coming back to the present. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“I couldn’t tell if they were good thoughts.” He brushed my hair back behind my ear.

“They were.” I pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. Closing my eyes, I tucked my face into his neck and took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of salt and skin, a hint of fabric softener lingering on his shirt, and the stale, sanitary smell of hotel sheets.

Maybe someday the world would be sane enough for us to go out in undetected. Maybe paparazzi wouldn’t clamor to get a picture of our wedding or our baby if we got that far. Maybe we could live a normal life together in a house that’s a fixer-upper, the kind he likes with creaky stairs and peeling paint and push a stroller down the street after dinner every night.

To most people, Derek Bast lived the dream. But now I knew he lived a sheltered life inside a bubble. If only that bubble could be popped.

Dare to dream.

Derek

K
aren flew through
the Halprin’s front door like a tornado. Her bag hit the wall, her laptop case clattered to the floor, her blond hair was windblown and her face twisted in a way that told the world to back off. She was pissed.

“God damn mother fucking traffic.” She slammed the door. “I’m from the Midwest. We don’t have this problem in the Midwest. Why are there so many fucking people in L.A?”

“Hey to you, too Karen,” I said, walking over and picking up her laptop case. “Bess is in the bathroom. She’ll be out in a minute.”

“You two shacked up here or what?” she asked, looking around.

I figured I’d let Bess navigate the topic of us. “Let me get you something to drink. Sit down.”

“It better be strong, whatever it is,” she called after me.

“I’ll see what’s in here.”

Bess padded down the hall barefoot. “I thought I heard you,” she said, rushing by the kitchen into the front room. “Any more from Adrian?”

I found a bottle of vodka in a cupboard and dumped some in a glass of ice. “Nothing,” she said. “I did hear a report that confirmed his manager is no longer his manager.”

“See what you started!” Bess yelled in to me.

“Can’t help that people follow me. I’m a trend setter.” I splashed some orange juice into the glass and headed back out into the family room.

“Thanks.” Karen took the drink and downed more than half of it. “Not bad.”

“Good, I’ll add bartender to my potential careers list.” I plopped down on the sofa beside Bess.

“Adrian doesn’t know I’m here, does he?” Karen asked, glancing wearily out the front window.

“No. I don’t think he’ll come all the way here and turn around when he finds out though.” I took Bess’s hand, drawing Karen’s eyes to us.

“And you two? What’s the story?”

Bess let out something along the lines of a groan and a sigh. “It’s a long one. Let’s say we’re reconnecting.”

“Reconnecting,” Karen repeated. “So you’ve had a connection in the past?”

“For as long as I can remember,” I said. “But the past is better left in the past. The present is much more promising.”

A black Porsche 918 Spyder roared into the driveway. “And you think my car is obnoxious.” I stood, keeping Bess’s hand, so she’d rise with me to answer the door. “Come on. I’ll make the introductions.”

Karen looked like she might puke and I wasn’t sure her legs wouldn’t give out if she tried to stand on them. “You stay. He’s not a king or the pope.”

She nodded and prodded her fingers at her throat, clinking the ice around in her empty glass. I’d get her a refill when I went back in the kitchen to get something for King Adrian.

I was shocked that he came alone. “I hope he wasn’t followed,” Bess said, plastering on a big smile and opening the door.

“We’ll have my mom entertain any press that show up.”

She giggled.

Adrian sauntered up the driveway with his hands in the pockets of his three hundred dollar jeans. I knew how much they were, because I owned a few pairs myself. It was strange how details like that stood out when you’ve been out of that lifestyle for a little while. “What’s going on, man?” I clasped his hand and stepped back to let him in. “Have any trouble getting here?”

He flipped his copper and blond highlighted hair out from in front of his eyes. “Nah. Traffic wasn’t too bad.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” Karen said, standing up. “Traffic was horrible!”

He gazed at her and shrugged. “Guess I didn’t notice.”

Bess leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “Unholy robot.”

“I bet I can light a fire under his ass,” I whispered back, walking farther into the room.

“Kay,” Bess said, taking Karen’s glass, “let me fill you up. Adrian, can I get you something?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

“Have a seat,” I said, pointing to a chair near Karen’s. “We can get right to business.” He gripped the arms of the chair as he sat, eyes flickering to Karen. He didn’t seem to be pissed that she was there. The opposite. It looked like someone had a crush.

I fell back into my spot in the center of the couch and propped my foot up on my knee. “I hear Unholy Union’s going back into the studio tomorrow.” I let the statement hang, knowing he’d give me all the answers I was looking for if I let him talk.

“Yeah. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

Bess came in, handed Karen her drink and sat beside me.

“You’re the one who wrote the review,” Adrian said, eyeing Bess with a cocky smirk.

“That depends on the review in question,” she said. “But I have a feeling you mean mine.”

“She was right,” I said. “What we were trying to do sucked ass.”

Adrian laughed. “Thank fuck you think so. My manager had me convinced it was the next big thing—blending talent like you and me.”

“Is that why you fired him?” I leaned back and rested my arm on the back of the couch.

Adrian flipped his bangs. “Mostly. If Derek Bast can strike out and do things his own way, what was holding me back?”

“It’s a big risk,” I said. “One with no guarantees that you won’t be flipping burgers tomorrow.”

He laughed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Right.”

The edge was still a far off, unheard of place for Adrian. He’d never think of falling off the charts, let alone falling out of his career altogether. “So what’s the deal with Unholy Union recording?” I asked again.

“I have an idea.” He tapped his head. “You and I recording new tracks didn’t work, but I have a new song that I want to use samples from Cover Me to record. From the bridge, mixed in with my chorus. I played with it back in L.A. and it’s hot.”

Cover Me was a ballad. I’d recorded and released it on You Tube, got famous and re-recorded it, then did an acoustic version as a duet with Rhiannon Love. The bridge played through my head, but I couldn’t pick out any part of it that would make a good sample track behind an Adrian song.

“You speed it up,” he said. “Auto-tune it. Lay it over my beat and it’s gold, man. I’m not even messing.” He leaned back and sunk down with a confident slouch. “Tomorrow we get in the studio and I’ll show you.”

“That would mean going back to L.A.” Bess flinched and I took her hand. “I wasn’t planning on going back yet.”

Adrian took in our joined hands and nodded. “Ah, I get it. That’s cool. I’ll get in the studio and put it together. You take a listen and tell me it isn’t genius.”

“Alright.” There was no way he drove five hours for something we could’ve discussed on the phone or in a video conference. “You going back to your band or staying solo?”

“Man, I never want to be in a boy band again. Choreographed dance routines and straight songs for little girls.” He waved the idea away. “I’m on my own. I need to take Adrian to the next level. Man up. Get a new sound, a new look, a fan base that doesn’t have a nine o’clock bedtime.”

“I get what you’re saying, but there’s a ton of cash in boy bands. Look at the car you rolled up in.” I gestured to the window. “Where I’m sitting the future’s uncertain. I might not make another dime. Is that something you can be cool with?”

He grinned. “Yeah, right. Derek Bast not make another dime. Man, you could record yourself taking a shit and it’d end up platinum.”

“I keep asking him why he thinks this is the end,” Bess said, turning to me. “You keep saying this could be it for your career, but it looks like the beginning of the next level, like Adrian said about his reason for going out on his own.”

“I just…” I took a deep breath. It was hard trying to explain how I felt after being on top and still there, but stalled out and not knowing what was supposed to come next. “It could go either way. I need to get something new out and if it’s too different, it could bomb. If it’s the same, I could become boring and lose sales. It’s a hard balance and I’m preparing myself for either outcome.”