LOW: A Rockstar Romance (43 page)

Chapter Eleven

Liliana

Jax broke a chair, and everyone just went about their business like it was nothing. Just swooped in and took care of it for him. So he didn't even have to clean up his own mess.

That should have made me angry. I fully expected to be seething over it the whole ride to dinner.

But the look in his eyes, utterly hopeless and defeated when he told me that no, he wasn't okay, haunted me instead.

I sat in the back of the limo with my fingers knotted together, resisting the urge to take his hand in mine. Let him lean his head against my shoulder, just for a bit.

It didn't have to mean anything. Just a friend comforting a friend.

But just as I got up the nerve to touch him, the car stopped and the doors opened to reveal that the paparazzi had gotten wind of our location.

"Dammit," Nails seethed. "Why won't these vultures leave you alone?" He stepped protectively in front of Annie, shielding her with his bulk.

"They're not after me," Annie chuckled.

It was true. All of the lenses were pointed right at Jax. "Mr. Blue! Over here! Mr. Blue!" came the shouts.

He looked startled for a moment, a deer caught in the headlights. I bit my lip, watching as he recovered. It was like watching him put on a mask, slipping a bright, beguiling smile on over his despondent features. It gave me the chills.

I hung back by the car, watching him handle the crowd like a pro. The maître’d came flapping up to Annie, mouthing apologies, but I couldn't take my eyes off of Jax.

The tightness around his eyes was a tell that only I could discern. He was ready to blow at any second.

My heart gave an involuntary lurch, propelling me into the fray. "I'm sorry, guys, Mr. Blue is done for today," I called, doing my best impression of a bustling personal assistant. "Thank you, thank you, we really appreciate it." I wrapped my arm around Jax's shoulder and made to hustle him into the relative safety of the restaurant.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Getting you out of there."

He made a noise, but allowed himself to be ferried. I gave one last wave to the paparazzi who, if anything, were snapping even more furiously, then I ducked us both into the restaurant.

"You okay?" I asked him.

He looked me up and down. "Remind me to hire you onto my team."

I squared my shoulders. "You couldn't afford me."

He laughed. "You're right about that, Bit. You're fucking priceless."

A slow heat spread from my blushing cheeks, warm and sliding down my spine. The part of me that hated him was dissolving like a lump of sugar on my tongue.

We moved to the corner table, away from the windows—the maître’d had made sure—and took our seats.

As I looked at the menu, my eyes bugged. This was definitely not my chosen New York lifestyle of poverty and ramen. For one brief second, I felt like I was fifteen again, tossed into the world of touring. My wide-eyed reaction to the wild scene I found myself thrown into left me vulnerable to the point of gullibility. Back then I was looking for any way to make sense of my new surroundings and looking for someone who could show me the ropes.

And the best person to do that was Jax.

Jax grew up in the madness of touring. His mother dragged him along on every single one, and he spent his childhood listening to the foul mouths of roadies and sneaking cigarettes behind the bus. He was a man before he ever had a chance of being a boy. It was a good thing the guy never had a true awkward phase, because his life in the limelight left him constantly under scrutiny. And his good looks made him a target.

"Holy shit, it's true!" Bash crowed. The rest of his words were drowned out in a chorus of hoots and hollers. Jax was being showered in high-fives and I couldn't see what it was they were cheering about.

"Shove over!" I shouted, elbowing Jax in the ribs. Too late he must have realized how this would look and tried to put his hand on my shoulder. But I already saw what it was.

"Jaxson Blue: Countdown." The website was just one huge stopwatch lined with shirtless pictures of Jax. I was about to ask what the heck it was when it hit me. "Your birthday?" I asked.

"Ladies are waitin' for our Jaxy boy!" Bash declared, clapping Jaxson on the back.

I felt nauseous. A whole website devoted to when he turned eighteen. Jaxson met my eyes for a second, looking pained, then turned around and shouted, "Hey, look, it's almost midnight!"
"

I should have known then. I should have hardened my heart and realized he could never belong to me.

"Aren't you going to say anything at all, Liliana?" Annie leaned back in her chair. "It's been forever since we last saw you. How are you?"

I looked up from my menu, embarrassed at being caught in my reverie. "Jetlagged," I told her, truthfully. I looked down at the menu. "And hungry."

"Mmhm." Annie had already lost interest. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," I sighed. "I'm so happy for you and Dad."

Annie's right hand was weighed down with heavy silver rings embedded with chunks of uncut gemstones and hunks of turquoise, but her left hand was bare. The better to show off the sparkler on her ring finger. She flicked her long, layered hair over her shoulder and my eye went right to it. She smiled and extended her hand. "He did good, didn't he?"

I glanced at my bearded, long-haired father and then back to the delicate, modern design of the ring, a dazzling solitaire set into a pattern of etched leaves and vines around the band. "You picked this out?" I asked. I didn't mean to sound as surprised as I did.

My dad grunted a mixture of pride and disgust. "Yes, I did. Give me at least some credit, here."

"It's why he waited so long," Jax piped up. He was slouched in his chair like a petulant teenager in spite of how well he had grown up this past year. I kind of understood. Being out like this, with our parents monopolizing everything, made me feel like an awkward teen myself. "He didn't trust himself to get the ring right until fifteen years had gone by."

Nails raised his bushy browns. He was trying to figure out if Jax was insulting him or not, I could tell. I honestly wasn't sure myself.

"Right," my dad finally said, deciding to be jovial. "I was already on thin ice. I couldn't afford to fuck the ring up too." He shot a sheepish look at me. "Whoops. Sorry, Lily."

I blinked at him. "Sorry? Wait, did you really just apologize for swearing in front of me?"

Dad nodded.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Dad, do you have any idea how many billions of curse words I've heard you lay out while I was touring with you?"

I meant it to be funny, but my dad went silent and cast his eyes down on his plate. Annie quietly covered his hand with hers. A pop of flash from the front of the restaurant momentarily blinded me and I was suddenly pissed. "What?" I demanded. "Why are we all acting like someone died here? I'm just used to Dad swearing, that's all I'm saying."

"That… that doesn't make me feel good, Lil," my dad said gruffly. He cleared his throat.

"Why the hell should it make you feel bad?"

He slammed his meaty fist down. "Dammit, Lil, because fathers aren't supposed to fucking swear in front of their kids! Shit!"

I sat back, shocked. I had never heard my father say a single word about parenting or how fathers were supposed to act in front of their kids. I didn't think he cared about stuff like that.

A heavy silence weighed down the air. I looked from my dad to Annie to my dad again, trying to figure out what I could say. "It's okay," didn't seem strong enough for whatever it was my father was trying to say here. But it was all I could think to say. "It's fine, it's okay, don't worry about it." Those were things I had told Nails my entire life, excusing him from everything he missed, forgiving all of the things he forgot.

Finally, I shot a frantic look at Jax. He put down his fork and nodded at me, just the slightest tilt of his chin. And just like that, the burden was lifted. He was going to take care of it.

"Three separate curse words in one single sentence," Jax mused, sounding impressed. "You've definitely turned over a new leaf, Nails."

"Oh, fuck off," my Dad leaned forward and the heavy silence lifted. "You're not my kid, so I can swear at you as much as I want, you little shit."

"Honestly, Jaxson," Annie huffed, "why do you always have to stir the pot?"

Jax grinned, the natural order of things restored. "Thank you," I mouthed to him, feeling a rush of affection and gratitude.

His mouth twisted strangely. "No problem, Bit," he said out loud. Too loud.

Heat flamed across my cheeks. "What was that, Jax?" Annie asked.

"Oh, nothing," Jax said airily, looking me dead in the eye. "Liliana was just thanking me for trying to lighten the mood here."

He saves me only to throw me to the wolves? What the hell, Jaxson?
"What?!" I said sharply, "No, I didn't mean…" I looked from Annie to my dad. Both of them were staring daggers at me and I knew I was in for a rambling, long-winded talk about
feelings.
I glowered at Jax, grateful at least that he'd have to suffer through it too.

"It occurs to me…" Annie sat back in her chair, wielding her favorite opening line.

"Whatever. Listen," Jax pushed his chair back, "as much fun as this little oversharing family time has been, I've got shit to do." His chair scraped across the floor obnoxiously. "Don't wait up."

He disappeared around the back, deftly avoiding the photographers, and leaving me with our parents like some sacrificial lamb.

"Lily, have you any idea what's going on with Jax?" Annie said.

"Going on?" I stammered. "No, I just got here, how the hell would I know?"

"I don't know, you two seemed awfully close for a while."

I squirmed under Annie's gaze, tripping over how exactly how close we
were.
"Wish I could tell you something helpful, but I know even less than you do. Today was the first time we talked since I left for New York." My ears burned as I remembered exactly why I had left.

And just like that, I hated him again.

Chapter Twelve

Jax

It was a new place, louder and more raucous than our usual haunts, but tonight, that suited me just fine.

"Dude, slow down. I'm not in the mood to be cleaning up your puke tonight."

I finished my shot anyway and then leveled my gaze on Casper. My guitarist, and the closest thing I had to a friend, was so pale that the black lights made him glow. "I already have a mother," I slurred. "I don't need another one."

"I've met your mother, asshole!" he shouted over the sound of the bass. "She signed my guitar."

"I'm never going to forgive you for that. Traitor."

Casper grinned, his teeth glowing blue. "It's my retirement plan! In case my boss drinks himself to death instead of finishing his album."

"Don't call me your boss!" I groaned. "Makes me sound like I'm paying you to hang out with me."

"Well, shit! You kind of are. I don't have the money for this kind of place… bottle service… high-class girls." He shot a grin at his girl, Harlow, who looked up from her conversation with her blonde friend—Laney, Lana, something like that—and stuck her tongue out at him.

"You will!" The liquor was making me feel expansive. Grandiose. "Just stick with me…" A ripple went through me and I caught myself before I added, "…please."

It's a sad fucking state of affairs that even now, after years of knowing each other and two years playing together, I still wasn't entirely comfortable around Casper, or Toad, or any of them. There was always that voice—that nagging voice in my head that sounded suspiciously like Annie's—that told me they were using me. Using my money. Using my mother's name. My name. That no one actually liked me for just… me.

I used to think that about everyone. Until I met Bit. For some reason, she seemed to bring out a side of me that was actually likable. Maybe not to everyone, but to her, at least. She never looked at me like she was only barely tolerating my presence.

At least, she never did
before.

Now, though, well… it was clear she wanted to hate my guts. Her cute little temper tantrum in the bathroom was proof of that. But the way she’d looked at me at dinner made her a liar. At dinner, when I had rescued her from her dad's epic awkwardness, she had looked at me like she used to. With those eager, open eyes.

And it had been too fucking much for me to take. I had to get out of that restaurant before I said or did something that we both would regret.

"Jaxson, I'm serious here. Give it a rest." Casper's hand was on mine. I hadn't even noticed that mine was on the bottle.

I shook my head to clear it. "Fine. Let's take a break. I need to dance anyway. Clear my head."

Harlow and Laney-Lana jumped up immediately. "Finally!" Harlow whooped and draped herself across Casper's back. He grinned and carried her piggyback down the steps to the crowded dance floor.

Laney-Lana sashayed up to me, smoothing her hands down her hips, subtly pulling her already plunging neckline down even lower. "You ready?" she purred.

"Lead the way, sweetheart," I told her.

She took off ahead of me, wiggling her hips to the beat. I hung back and tried like hell to appreciate her luscious curves, but something was all wrong. She was built for show, all overflowing tits and overripe ass—which was usually something I appreciated in a woman—but tonight, it felt like too much. Too in my face. She was ripe to the point of rotten, and did absolutely nothing for me.

What the fuck?

I followed behind her and tried to screw my head back on straight. If nothing else, she was ready and willing. Probably a fan who couldn't believe that her friend was dating Jaxson Blue's guitarist. My name was all I needed to make this a sure thing.

And yet all I wanted to do was drink and forget who I was for a night.

The beat shifted as soon as I hit the floor, the unsteady rise of the two songs mixed together making me feel off kilter. Several whoops rose up from the crowd and the energy suddenly became frenetic. The pounding four-four beat took over my heart rate even as my heart plunged down into my stomach.

My own voice—distorted and remixed into nasal oblivion—but my voice just the same.

Not that song. Not tonight.

"Oh my God, I love this song!" Laney-Lana shrieked, grabbing me and yanking me into the fray. "I can't believe I'm dancing with Mr. Cocky himself!"

Her lips were right up against my ear, but I could barely hear her over the music. The DJ had remixed it completely, sampling only a fraction of the refrain. The worst fraction.

"I'm just a lil bit… lil bit… lil bit… cocky…

Lil Bit

Lil Bit

Lil Bit…"

Lana-Laney shimmed low, grinding her ass into my crotch. I stood there like a stone, letting her take over as I lost myself.

"Lil Bit

Lil Bit

Lil Bit

Cocky!"

She swirled around and flung her arms around my neck, undulating wildly.

"Lil Bit

Lil Bit…”

It echoed in my head
. Her eyes. Her lips.
The only thing I could think of
. It could be her, but it's not, but it could be.

Lil Bit.

Her hands slid down my chest.

Lil Bit

(I am so drunk)

Lil Bit

Her hands went even lower.

Lil Bit

(I'm losing it here)

Her fingers closed around my cock.

It wasn't Lil Bit touching me

"Get the fuck off me!"

Laney-Lana's shocked face barely registered as I made for the door. My mind was blank of everything but the refrain in my head.

Lil Bit

Lil Bit

Lil Bit.