Rock Star: The Song (Book 1 of a Bad Boy Romance) (4 page)

W
hen I woke up
, I could feel something crawling on me. I blinked and shook myself free of the dirt from the forest floor. I glanced at my watch. It was closing in on five in the evening. I had passed out and slept the day away. An empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s lay on a pile of leaves. I scratched my head and tried to remember how I got out here.

Trudging back through the thick undergrowth, I could see the lights inside my cabin were on. As I got closer, I remembered what had led to this. The day had begun like any other. I was waiting for Meghan to show up. Hoping to impress her maybe, by playing a couple of my tunes off my last album. All stripped down. After hitting a few bad notes, and then trying to write a couple more lines, I cracked open the bottle. One drink led to another and before I knew it I was in the thick of the forest. From there it was just a blur.

Reaching the cabin, I sank down into my chair and caught a sight of the plate. I groaned inwardly. She had arrived. My phone was on the counter. Picking it up I noticed I had received six text messages and three calls.

Mia.

The woman didn’t know when to give up. We had worked together for years. Initially it was strictly professional. One thing led to another and a business meeting turned into an all-out sex session with her on the floor of her office. Mia was your typical city girl. A few years older than me, headstrong and extremely good at getting her own way. The number of times I had her to thank for landing me deals which netted me millions of dollars, royalties on merchandise and sold-out tours, were countless. In many ways, without her, I would have been lost playing in some godforsaken town like… well, this place. I chuckled, heading inside and pouring myself a large glass of water.

After I met Rachel, all of that changed. Mia still wanted me to warm her bed, even though I had told her I was in a relationship. To her that didn’t matter one iota. Being an idiot, and naïve, I played both sides of the fence. Mornings hammering away new deals with Mia, and evenings tending to Rachel.

Problem was, that only lasts for so long. You can only cover your tracks for a while before someone sees, or finds something. In my case, I was caught with my pants down, Mia bent over her desk. I tried to catch up to Rachel, but…

I tossed the glass in the sink in frustration and it shattered against the metal.

“Shit.”

Yeah, there were many reasons why I hadn’t written a song. Mia never listened to any of them. She is and always was single-minded. Maybe that’s why she was good at what she did. She wasn’t complicated. She fucked like the way she did business. It was completely all in, and without regrets. No excuses. Some part of me liked that. Not having to think, not having to get attached to someone. Just seeing it all as you need this, I need this. That’s it.

So many women I’d met in towns wanted to get emotionally involved. They said they didn’t when you gave them VIP access to the green room out back. A quick fuck, blowjob or kiss and they claimed they would be happy. It never amounted to that. Once they had been with me, it was as if they owned me. There had been several who had sold stories to the tabloids.

Were all the stories true? No, but some were and that’s all they wanted. Dirt on a celebrity and man, could some of those groupies whip up some whoppers. No, no one really understood what it was like. Everyone wanted to dish out morals like Girl Scout cookies but few knew what it was like to feel such love on stage and then come away and feel such an intense low. Acting out was just a given. For some it was drugs, others alcohol and then for those like myself, it was women. They were my drug of choice. All those beautiful eyes, smiles. But like any drug, soon the warm and fuzzies wear off and you’re left feeling empty.

That’s when Jack Daniel’s entered in.

As I was sitting there, the phone rang. I glanced at it. It wasn’t Mia.

“Hello?”

“Ah, you are alive.”

“Breakfast girl.”

“So that’s what you call me.”

“Well, for now.”

She chuckled on the other end of the phone. I liked her laugh. It was cute, warm and made me feel a little less alone.

“So, I swung by today. You weren’t there?”

“Expecting to see me, were you?”

“No,” she retorted. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Listen, the reason I’m phoning is I wanted to know if you needed anything. Dinner? A coffee?”

“Would you like to join me? For dinner, I mean. Unless you have any other plans?”

The line was quiet. I was certain I heard a muffled squeal, though it could have been my stomach.

“I’ll bring it.”

“No, I thought I could come there.”

“Here? No, no you don’t want to come here. Privacy is critical, isn’t it?”

“Why? You sound a little odd, Meghan.”

“Do I? No, I just meant that I haven’t had time to clean the place. I’ve been running errands all day, well, you know. It’s probably easier if I just bring it to you. How does seven work for you?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

I smirked, enjoying the strange small-town charm.

* * *

W
ithin a few hours
I heard the sound of gravel crunching outside. I snuck a peek from behind the curtain. When she got out of the truck I noticed she was wearing blue skintight jeans that showed off her curves. She wore a soft white summer top that really brought out the color in her sun-kissed skin. Her hair was tied up neatly behind her head, revealing a long neck that led towards her breasts.

I waited a couple of seconds after she knocked before answering. I didn’t want to come off as too eager. Though I had been anticipating her arrival since getting off the phone.

She stood feet tightly together.

“Hi.”

I smiled. I was about to come out with another comment, but found myself at a loss for words. Which was definitely a first.

“Hi, come on in,” I motioned for her to step inside.

I caught a sniff of her perfume as she passed me. It had a sweet smell to it, like a bowl of fresh strawberries. There was something about the way a woman smelled that could send a shiver up my spine. I snuck a peek at her ass, and dear me, had to take a deep breath.

“So where do you want this?”

I was about to say on my face, then I realized she was referring to supper.

“Oh, you can just leave it over there. Can I get you a drink? Wine? Beer?”

“Beer sounds nice.”

I grabbed a couple of cold ones from the fridge and handed off one to her.

“Come, we’ll sit out back.”

She nodded without saying anything.

The back porch had a wraparound of short wooden posts, each one was stained a cedar red. The steps went all the way down to a dock at the bottom of the hill. There tied up beside the water were a kayak and a full-size canoe, along with fishing equipment.

“This is a nice place.”

“You’ve not seen out back before?”

“Well, today I peeked around the corner but no.”

“Rita really stocks this place up nice. A lot different from some of the other places I’ve stayed in.”

“Really? So what brought you here?”

He smiled.
Was she really playing coy?

“Better question. Why haven’t you said anything about me being here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I thought this place would be crawling with people by now.”

“Why?”

I smirked, taking a swig of my beer. “Meghan, you know who I am?”

Her eyes dropped before meeting mine.

“Yeah,” she said. “Well, not initially.”

“Not initially?”

She took a deep drink as if she felt uncomfortable with the question.

“So have you taken the kayak out?”

I smiled, finding it amusing the way she dodged the question.

“No, want to come out?”

“Not sure it’s a good idea to drink and row.”

I rose to my feet. “I think it’s safe.”

“What about the dinner? It’s going to get cold.”

“There’s a microwave, I’ll nuke it. C’mon.”

I took her hand and helped her down the stairs. After helping her into the canoe, I stepped in and felt it wobble.

“Steady there. I know you’re keen on skinny-dipping, but I’m not sure I want to end up soaked.”

“I don’t know. I get the feeling you might.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I put my beer down and lowered the oars either side into the water. As I pushed and pulled she kept her gaze on me. The air was warm, the lake still as I took us further out.

“You know this lake has no water source.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, it’s one of the natural wonders of this area. Some say it’s a volcano, others say a meteorite caused it. Though most believe it’s a sinkhole.”

“Great, I’m not sure which of those inspires the most confidence in me to stay out here.”

“Oh, we are fine. It’s been here forever. At least since I was a kid.”

I pulled the oars into the boat and let it drift.

“You grew up in Lakeside?”

“Yep, homegrown.” She took another swig.

“What about your parents?”

She cast a glance off to the banks. A flock of birds broke in the trees, their reflection breaking the perfect circle of the moon above us.

“They’re dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a car accident. Happened four years ago. Just on the outskirts of town.”

She remained quiet for a moment before continuing.

“They were returning from an evening out in the city. It was their forty-second anniversary. There was a lot of snow on the roads that night. From what I’m told they lost control of the vehicle coming down an incline. There was no barrier to stop them.”

She closed her eyes as if to shut out the memory, or maybe to recall it.

“Anyway, enough about that. What about you?”

“What do you want to know?”

“How does a big star like yourself end up here?”

I leaned back in the canoe, tucking a cushion behind my back.

“I need to write a song. I’m here to write.”

“How’s that coming?”

“Guessing you must have spotted the Everest size of crumpled paper balls in the corner of the cottage.”

“I did see that, yes. I just thought you were a lousy shot.”

I laughed.

“A lousy writer, more like it.”

“Come on, I’ve heard some of your stuff.”

“Oh, so you have listened.”

“Today. I mean…”

“Did the music belong to your friend?”

She nodded while draining the last drop of beer from her bottle.

“Yeah, she’s quite a fan of yours.”

“And you never told her, I was here?”

“I didn’t tell anyone. I only clued in today.”

“But you’ve seen me several times.”

“I saw your bits, and you standing in the dark.”

“Yeah, about that. Not exactly my finest moment.”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen worse.”

Her eyes met mine. We held each other’s gaze for a second before she broke it.

I could feel the chemistry between us. At least I could feel my pulse quickening.

We sat for a moment looking up at the stars. A canopy of darkness surrounded us, and the stars reflected in the water created what almost looked like a thousand fireflies of white light moving as the waves lapped up against the canoe.

“The other night. Did you write that song?”

She bit her lip.

“Please don’t tell me you were there? Oh my god.” She broke into an embarrassed smile and placed her hands over her cheeks.

“Oh, I was there. At least until the Jelly dudes took the mic.”

“Yeah. Good old local entertainment.”

“So?”

“Yes, in answer to your question.”

I nodded, studying her face. The way the light dancing on her features created shadows that only highlighted how beautiful she was.

“It was good. Really good.”

“Oh c’mon, you’re just saying that to be nice.”

“No. Believe me, I’ve heard of a lot of shit in my time. That wasn’t shit.”

“I don’t know about that. But thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

“You should submit a demo.”

“Well, I actually just got…” she cut off in mid-sentence.

“Got what?”

“Ah, it doesn’t matter.”

I picked up an edge to her voice. The sound of rumbling thunder in the distance was our cue to leave. I grabbed at the oars and double-timed it back to the dock. Thankfully the storm wasn’t going to arrive any time soon. As we made our way back into the cabin, I wanted to ask her if she would play the song. Instead I decided not to place her under any pressure. I was used to people sharing songs with me, but I had forgotten how embarrassed I was back before anyone knew my name. There was always this little voice in the back of my head, telling me I wasn’t any good. It just became a habit of saying no, when I was asked to play. Had it not been for a good friend of mine, I probably wouldn’t have even submitted my own demo.

Yeah, I knew how she felt.

“
S
o what other
hidden talents are you hiding?” I said.

She broke into a smile. “What do you mean?”

“Well, besides being a mean cook, you really know how to write a good song.”

“Maybe, it’s just a fluke. You know. That one-hit wonder deal.”

I walked over to the fridge, and brought out another bottle of wine.

“Oh, that’s enough for me,” she said, placing her hand over her glass.

“I don’t think so.”

“No seriously, I have to work tomorrow.”

“I meant the song. You sang several the other night. How many others have you written?”

“Oh, right. Only three so far.”

“That’s a start. Most demos only have four or five on them.”

I put away the wine. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure, OK.”

“Earlier, you were about to share something, but you decided not to?”

Her eyes dropped to the ground.

“Listen, there’s no stupid question here. Just because I do this for a living, I won’t look down on you for saying something you think is stupid.”

She let out a deep breath. “A friend of mine submitted a video of me singing to a contest. A singing contest. I made it through to the next round. I know it’s kind of stupid really. I mean, you didn’t make your way up the ladder through a contest.”

“No, but then again those kinds of things weren’t around when I was trying to get in the door.”

* * *

H
e put
some coffee beans into the grinder, and set down a couple of small white cups.

The buzz of them being ground and the smell of fresh coffee permeated the air.

“Anyway, I have to write a new one and submit another video. If they like it, I will move through to the final round.”

“What’s the contest called?”

“
The Next Country Star,
” I grimaced saying it. It sounded absurd. As if I was a star.

He spun around. “No way. A friend of mine put that together.”

“What, he runs it?”

“He’s a coordinator for locations. Instead of them traveling around to different cities they have people send in their auditions. His crew compiles those to make the web show. Based on the rankings and social response they are able to gauge how the live show is going to perform.”

“Small world.”

He filled a French press with hot water. Spirals of smoke that resembled tiny spirits rose up from it.

“It is in the music world. That’s why if they don’t want you to succeed, you won’t. Word travels fast and doors can be slammed in your face faster than they are opened. I know a number of buddies. Good singers. They still do the circuit around Nashville, but they stepped on one too many toes, and now they can’t get airplay or anyone to sign them. Not that getting signed is much better than going independent.”

“Yeah, I notice a lot of people are moving away from the record labels. Why is that?”

“Money. While you might see our faces out there, hear our voices on the radio and see stadiums filled out with people, a large portion of the money never makes its way to the artist. Some of the labels are scandalous. They have made many a good friend of mine sign a contract where the fine print meant signing away years of earnings. It also meant becoming what they wanted. Singing what they wanted. Whatever was hot, you were likely to end up copying or mimicking that style.”

He handed me a cup of coffee.

“But what about you? I mean, you’re still on a major label.”

“I lucked out. Mia, my agent is a hard nose. She doesn’t take a lot of crap. If it wasn’t for her, I would be out on my ass or touring for years for little to no money. She really knows the business like the back of her hand.”

“Lucky.”

“You could say that. In fact a large chunk of doing well in this business is who you know, not what you know. There are some great songwriters but they can’t get their stuff out there. It’s a tough game and it’s only getting harder with so many folks downloading songs for free.”

“How do you feel about that?”

He took a sip of his drink. His eyes were soft, dark and had a way of drawing you in. Over the past few days, he maintained just the right amount of stubble on his jawline. It was never too much, or too little. With so many people drinking coffee in my store on a daily basis, I tended to not really pay attention to the way people took a drink. It’s strange how when you feel an attraction to someone that all of their subtle nuances become interesting. It all feels like a discovery.

“What can you do? If people want the music they are going to get it for free. Those who want to support the artist will always buy. What can I say? You have your haters and those who love you to bits. It’s the yin and yang.”

“I can’t imagine that gets any easier if you aren’t with a label though?”

“Sure, it helps to have the machine behind you getting your music into stores, airports and Walmarts, but the way people are consuming is different nowadays. People are picky. They want what they want, when they want it and the label is realizing that. It’s creating quite a disruption among the bigwigs who run the whole show. Hell, that’s why they are coming down on me so hard, and I’m meant to be one of the top country rock stars in the world. If I can’t escape it, who else can?”

“Have you thought of going independent?”

“You sure have a lot of questions.”

“Sorry, I just find it all fascinating. I mean so many would die to be in your shoes. Having all that money and fame thrown at them.”

“Is that what you’re after?”

His tone changed. It sounded almost defensive.

“No.” I laughed. “I never even sent in my song. I wouldn’t have even thought about it. My life is the café shop.”

“But you would like it, wouldn’t you?”

I nursed my coffee.

“I mean, who wouldn’t?”

“So it does matter to you?”

I placed my cup down.

“I’m not sure if you have misunderstood me. Does it bother you that people would want to be in your shoes?”

“No. I mean it wasn’t too long ago I was in the same position. What bothers me is those who are looking for fame and money, without giving any consideration to whose toes they step on in the process.”

“What are you insinuating, Chase?”

He paused, studying me.

“Listen, thanks for the supper.”

“Well, you made it.”

“I mean the company. I think I should go now.”

I got up and made my way to the door. I was feeling a little uncomfortable with his questioning. I don’t know what trust issues he had but it was clear that he assumed I was after something more than just an evening.

He grabbed my wrist and I swung back around.

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. You don’t have to go.”

I stared into his sultry amber eyes, feeling the allure of being close to him.

In that moment he pulled me in fast and pressed his lips against mine. Some say a kiss can leave you breathless. This only did because he caught me off guard and I barely had a chance to inhale before he smothered me with those lips of his. For a few seconds I gave myself to him. Allowing myself to feel his tongue swirling in my mouth. I could feel heat building inside me. An urge to completely let me take him. But then I pushed away. He still had hold of my wrist.

“Let go of my wrist.”

He paused for a second then immediately released me. “Sorry.”

“Maybe you are used to having women throw themselves at you. But that’s not me.”

“I’m used to women using me,” he replied, turning away.

For a moment I stood in silence, watching him pace the room.

“Are you sure that’s not because of the way you treat them?”

He furrowed his brow. “Is that what you think? Of course you do. Country star uses women then tosses them aside? Is that the headline you’re hearing on the radio, TV? Or is that the latest fodder that’s making its rounds in the tabloids?”

“You know what, Chase, it doesn’t matter what I think, it matters what you think. And it seems that maybe you have some trust issues to work through. Thanks for the company, I enjoyed at least the first part.”

With that I turned and left. I didn’t sob, or get choked up. I had no expectations going in, and I had even fewer going out. Country star or not, he was still a man. Behind all that fame, music videos and cool persona, here was a man that was dealing with his own demons. Fighting something that clearly had a hold on him. I’d already been down that road with enough men. Those who were needy or thought I should be the one to support their ass. Screw that. Sure he had it all. But really he didn’t. Did anyone ever see that side of him? Do any of us see it?

I strolled back to my truck not even giving one glance over my shoulder. Who knew if he was looking out? I didn’t care, quite frankly. The last thing I needed in my life right now was more drama. Small towns may have meant leading a slower life, but my life was far from boring. And I didn’t need a man to liven it up. I had my pocket rocket. And that shit was the bomb.

* * *

W
hen I reached home
, I was still thinking about what he said. All the lights were off at the café. I had let Sophie close up early. Inside I didn’t bother to turn the lights on. I sat in silence. Was that the kind of life I wanted to get wrapped up in? An industry that chewed you up and spat you out? A company that would try to make you conform to a certain way of singing? I wasn’t sure how I would like that. Having people boss me around wasn’t something I was used to. I was my own boss, I stood on my own two feet and I was damn good at it. At least until that damn coffee shop opened up across the road.

You want to talk about it?

I heard my mother’s voice in my head. She was always there for me. The good days, the bad days and all the ones in between. I wished she was here. Sometimes I just needed a sounding board. A listening ear from someone who wasn’t going to tell me to pull my socks up and get real. This was real. It was my life and I had worked damn hard to hold on to what my parents had built. Now all I could see was the end of the road. I didn’t know what to do.

What if this contest didn’t put me through to the final round? What if I got all my hopes up and then had them crushed in front of a live audience? I wasn’t sure if I could handle that. My heart was fragile enough as it was. I was closing in on twenty-four years of age. Surely most people my age already were doing what they wanted. Weren’t they? I thought back to what Chase had said about a boring life. Maybe small towns were boring. But they offered a sense of comfort. You knew who was for you and who wasn’t. You knew where you stood and no matter how hard things got, there was always someone there to give a helping hand. Moving away from that to travel to some city and spend weeks on some TV show?

A few tears welled up in my eyes. Frustration. Letdown. Striving to try and make ends meet was really taking its toll. Then on top of that, this evening hadn’t helped.

It was getting close to eleven at night. I spent the next thirty minutes tidying up and preparing for the next day. I put on a little bit of music, but decided to skip Chase’s stuff. I had my fill of him for the night. I could still taste him on my lips. I shouldn’t have let him. Country rock star or not. He wasn’t going to mess with my heart and then disappear from this town.

After everything was cleared up, I took my notebook and sat down in one of the new comfortable sofas we had got in. I didn’t know how to play a guitar or piano. Instead I heard music in my head. Spike had always been the one who was pretty good at translating my strange humming into something that matched the words. Even if he did get carried away and throw in a five-minute solo, lick the strings and tell me he was going to light his guitar on fire one of these nights.

Writing songs was a way I could escape. I was lying when I told Chase I had only written three songs. Fact was I had the makings of five completed. I just wasn’t sure the other two were that good. Despite Spike’s strange behavior, he always would listen to what I had written and felt he could turn it into something that was useable. Writing was a strange thing but like therapy for me. It allowed me to silence the noise in my head and retreat to a place that made me feel calm. It felt right. As if I was meant to do it.