Rock Star: The Song (Book 1 of a Bad Boy Romance) (8 page)

O
utside the air
was cool against my skin. My insides were doing loops at the thought of peeling off her clothes. The feel of her warm, small hand inside mine ignited carnal thoughts. Her cute little laugh and fit body were just what I needed to take my mind off the past few weeks. Mia had picked the perfect place.

We couldn’t drive back. Both of us had drunk far too much. Thankfully the weather was good. And the bar was on the outskirts of town. It would take us the better part of half an hour to walk back to my place.

Meghan wanted to get her phone from her truck before we left. Just out of the corner of my eye I caught two trucks parked diagonally. Their headlight beams were on, and music was being played loudly from their speakers.

“Hey.”

“Just ignore them.”

We kept on walking toward her truck. The sound of an engine kicked in and I craned my neck to see one of the pickup trucks heading our way.

“Meghan,” a voice said.

She ignored him, as did I.

“Who’s this?”

“Kyle, go back to your drink.”

The truck came to a halt just in front of Meghan’s, blocking our path. As we attempted to go round it, it crept forward. It was then I got a good look at the two male occupants inside. They both wore baseball caps that were stained with oil. One them had a scar over his left cheek. The one who had spoken earlier leaned out of his window.

“Now that’s not very polite, is it?”

“What do you want, Kyle?”

He shot me a glance. His eyes scanning me as if sizing me up. Was a threat to him? Who was I?

“New guy?”

“A friend of mine.”

“I’ve not seen you around here.” Then he began to laugh before turning to his buddy who was still in the passenger seat. “Don’t he look like… that singer… what’s his name?”

His friend muttered a few names. People who I’d even had the chance to play alongside.

“Move out the way, Kyle,” Meghan said, sounding even more impatient.

“I’ll move it when I’m good and ready. Ain’t no one telling me what to do, especially you.”

I had never been one to stand on the sidelines watching. I guess that’s why I went into the business. Standing around dreaming was never my idea of excitement. I glanced at the other truck. They had turned their music down, no doubt to enjoy the night’s entertainment. I returned my gaze to the driver.

“What the hell you looking at?”

“Give it a rest, Kyle. Do you want me to call the cops? I don’t think your daddy is going to like that,” Meghan said.

That’s when the door creaked open and he stepped out. He was rugged in appearance. He wore torn-up jeans, brown combat boots and a white tank top. Now Kyle didn’t exactly sport an MMA fighter’s body. But anyone could tell he didn’t drink a lot. There was no gut as I imagined there might be from a small-town guy, who had nothing better to do than drink his way to a heart attack. By all accounts he was in shape. Like a well-oiled machine. Something which I could tell gave him additional confidence or stupidity that most would only get from liquid courage. His friend, however, was a stringy fellow covered in tattoos.

“You’re looking real good tonight. How come you never got dressed up like that for me, huh?”

He looked her up and down as if she was a slab of meat.

“How is it every time I ask you out, you blow me off? And for this chump?”

I was about to say something, when she waved me off.

“I’ll handle this,” she said before turning back to Kyle.

“If you don’t get back into your truck and leave, I’m calling the cops.”

He laughed, turning back to his friend who joined in. Turning sharply he grabbed a hold of Meghan. That was about as much as I could handle.

“Get your hands off her.”

I stepped in.

He let go of her slowly, but it wasn’t because I told him. No, this was the highlight of his night. This was what he fed off. It livened up his boring existence. A few drinks, music and a way to unleash all that pent-up testosterone. I’d seen my fair share of his kind in tiny bars throughout the states. Blue-collar workers who were fed up with life, and spent their evenings down at the local bar drinking away their family’s money. Guys who wouldn’t ever start a fight if it was just them. No, they got their kicks from being with a group. Their idea of a good night was this. The push and pull. The look of fear in another’s eyes. It gave them a sense of control.

He slid his hand over the side of his unshaved face, and cracked his head from side to side as if the very act would make it clear what his intentions were. The very fact that his buddy didn’t get out of the truck was a clear giveaway that Kyle didn’t need him, or at least he wasn’t the kind of guy that had ever needed backup.

I didn’t wait for him to ready himself. That was a fool’s game when there were others who could jump in. You struck first, and you struck hard. Anything less would just come off as weak.

In these moments, lawsuits don’t go through your mind, those come later. Maybe it was a by-product of being surrounded by crazed fans. But something I learned fast from my bodyguards was you had to act swiftly. Nine times out of ten, if you caught them by surprise they were so taken aback, they often snapped out of their deranged state. Those who didn’t, well, they were handled pretty fast.

Before Kyle had time to think, I had taken him to the ground. I never swung. They usually see that coming. The trick was to step inside their stride. Catch them at the right angle and their body would naturally fall back. It was just physics, my bodyguards would say. Rarely ever did they have to hit anyone. Hitting people left marks, which led to angry lawyers and a whole heap of tabloid publicity.

I heard the sound of the truck door opening and his friend jumping out. Ahead of us, I saw two other men hurry over. This was about to go south, very quickly.

“We don’t want any trouble.”

“Bit late for that,” one of them yelled as he stormed in our direction.

The owner of the bar came out to toss out the trash. Seeing the commotion he yelled.

“I’m calling the cops.”

Thankfully that was enough to cause the others to think twice and get the hell out of there. No doubt, this wasn’t their first brush with the law. Kyle staggered as he rose to his feet. He wasn’t hurt, just stunned. The wind had been knocked out of him. Few people knew how to react after that. Fighters, they would have been up on their feet and brawling. Amateurs, like Kyle, wouldn’t expect it. He had no clue what I’d do next. Uncertainty had a way of making even the bravest men walk away.

We watched as they drove off. I could hear him yelling at his friend.

“You OK?” I asked Meghan.

She nodded. “Yeah, just a little shook up.”

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

The whole incident had put a damper on the night. Any smidgen of excitement had quickly evaporated.

As we walked back I held on to her hand, occasionally rubbing my thumb over the back of it. I could tell she noticed as she would glance my way each time I did it.

“For a singer you seemed awfully comfortable with that situation.”

I chuckled to myself.

“I never used to be. It comes with what I do now. Confrontations. Overly eager fans, crazed lunatics who want to kill you for some unknown reason.”

“But you have bodyguards for that.”

“They’re not with me all the time. As much as Mia hates it, I couldn’t have them there twenty-four seven.”

“You can afford it.”

“There is a part of me that still wants to hold on to the normal life. The one where I can go where I want, without thinking I’m going to get mauled or hurt.”

“Isn’t that what personal assistants are for?”

“What, getting hurt?”

She backhanded me. “No, you know. Doing runs for you. Getting what you need.”

“I wouldn’t do it. If I want something I go get it. I don’t expect someone else to do it.”

“But it’s a job, they get paid. It’s not like they’re your slave.”

“It feels like it.”

Meghan’s apartment was only five minutes from the bar. The small town was deserted at night. Store lights were shut off, very few cars were parked outside and most of the lighting had turned off. Something I found out occurred after midnight.

Inside, Meghan dashed for the alarm system and punched in a few codes. I was going to leave her, but with the long walk back to the cottage, and after the night’s drama, she would have none of it. She said I could stay at her place. An invitation that I wasn’t going to refuse. With the amount I had drunk that night, I wasn’t in any condition for a hike in the middle of nowhere. Especially if it meant bumping into those deranged idiots again.

Meghan fumbled with her keys at the top of the stairs.

“With the alarm system downstairs, I’m surprised you even need locks up here.”

“Can’t be too careful.”

A second later she twisted the key in the lock and we entered. A quick flick of a switch and I got a good look at her place. It wasn’t much to look at. A corridor that led down to a bathroom. To one side of that were two rooms that appeared to be bedrooms. To the other side was the living room. It was cozy. She had hung photos on the wall, presumably of her parents, a dog and several coast shots.

“Excuse the mess. I haven’t managed to do the laundry yet.”

I watched her cover several piles of clothes in a large towel.

“When you’re not on tour, where is home?”

“Depends where the tour ends. I have a few homes. One in Santa Barbara, an apartment in New York and one in Paris.”

“Must be nice.”

I suddenly realized it must have sounded like I was gloating. Here I was standing in what amounted to the size of one of my walk-in closets. And yet she was probably more happy than I was.

“I’m thinking of downsizing,” I said.

“Move to Lakeside,” she replied.

She turned on the light in the bedroom and we were greeted by the sight of Spike, spread-eagled. All he had on was a pair of grey underwear. Thankfully that was all that was on display.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What’s all the noise?”

From behind us we heard a female voice. I turned to find one of Meghan’s co-workers. Bleary eyed. She stumbled out of the next room in nothing more than a pair of black panties and bra.

“Oh, it’s just Chase Bryan.” She paused. “Chase Bryan?”

With that she let out a scream and dashed back into the other room, slamming the door behind her. We could hear her pacing up and down squealing. This was then followed by her berating herself for having gone out in her panties and bra without any makeup on, like makeup was the least of her concerns.

“Oh crap, I forgot they were here.”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t sweet cheeks and the guy who will soon be opening up for my band.”

“Uh, could this night get any worse?”

“Now the question must be asked. Where have you two been? Better still, why was I not invited? I am a part of the band if I recall. Oh, which reminds me, Meghan, what is this about him filling my spot? I thought you and I were tight?”

Without saying a word, Meghan closed the door on Spike’s rant. The faint mumbles of further words disappeared as she led me into the living room.

I knew that this was probably bad idea. I could see Mia in my mind’s eye rolling her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to have media crawling over this town. Or find me holed up in some dingy apartment with a bunch of nutcases. At least that’s how she would see them.

“Meghan, we need to talk.”

Spike came out, his underwear riding up so high he looked like he was wearing mom pants.

“It’s late, Spike, if you hadn’t noticed. Can it wait for the morning?”

“All right, but don’t go dashing off. This is important. Our entire future is at stake.”

With that he spun on his heels, giving us a shot of a wedgie that I wished I hadn’t seen.

As one door slammed, another opened. This time it was Meghan’s demented friend, Sophie. Thankfully she wasn’t sporting the latest wedgie, however, it might have looked a little better on her. She was a nice-looking girl. Her hair was bright pink and in a pixie style. Everything about her was tiny, except her breasts, which for some strange reason seemed exceptionally large. I imagined the poor girl would have suffered from severe backache lugging those around.

She had slipped on a pair of jeans, and pink top. She seemed about to say something, Meghan mimicked keeping her mouth closed. That seemed to do it, as she retreated back into the darkness of her room.

I
awoke
to the smell of bacon and sound of whispers. I had taken the couch, while Chase used an old sleeping bag and a few cushions to soften the floor. I groaned. My head was pounding. It felt as if someone was smashing it with a hammer. Slowly, the memory of the night before began to fade back in.

“Oh, why did you drink that many, Meghan? What the heck were you thinking?” A tight pain at the back of my eyes was a reminder that I couldn’t handle drink. I’d had way too much and forgot to drink water before passing out. My muscles ached as I rolled out from under the thin sheet that covered my fully clothed body. Out in the kitchen, Spike and Sophie were already up. Spike was pulling together breakfast; some bacon, eggs and toast. Sophie was leering at Chase, who was still sound asleep, like a crazed asylum patient.

I yawned, and ran a hand through my tangled hair.

The smell of coffee in the percolator was like heaven. I padded out to the kitchen, wrapping my arms around me and rubbing warmth back into them. Mornings were usually hot even in the winter. The heat from downstairs would rise, warming up my apartment. However, this morning someone had partially opened one of the windows. A cool breeze came in, chilling me to the bone. Seriously?

I shut the window.

“Isn’t he perfect?” Sophie said. She was clasping the jeans he’d worn the night before. I shook my head and went about pouring a cup of coffee.

“Now tell me everything,” she said, not taking her eyes off him for one second. It was if she thought he would vanish in a puff of smoke. I stole a slice of bacon out of the pan.

“Hey, that was going to be my breakfast.”

“So what happened to you two?” I asked.

Sophie never answered. She seemed to be in a trance state.

“Nothing,” Spike answered. “Not that I wouldn’t have minded a little action.”

“Oh, give it up, Spike,” Sophie replied, breaking her gaze for but a few seconds. “If you show up smelling like a farmer’s field, do you really think a girl is going to throw herself at you?”

He dabbed some toast with butter. “I told you it wasn’t my fault. I had to help my father and I didn’t have time for a shower. If I had, you would be bellyaching about me being late. I can’t win.”

Spike handed a plate to me, with toast and a few rashers of bacon. On top he had piled two eggs, sunny side up. Just the way I liked them.

“So spill the beans,” Sophie said, finally turning and refilling her coffee. “How is it that McSexy Pants over here wound up in our godforsaken town?”

“He’s writing. Creating a new song.”

“More like invading and taking over,” Spike muttered with clear disdain in his voice.

“I swear. Next to meeting Stephen King when they gave him the wrong bookstore for that signing a few years back, this is right up there with my greatest ‘oh my god’ moments.”

“I’m sure God wasn’t involved.”

“Tell me that guy is not the most angelic being you have ever laid eyes on. God was involved.”

Spike licked clean his fingers of egg yolk that had somehow dripped all over his hands.

“Women.”

A groan came from Chase. Sophie nearly spat out a mouthful of coffee.

“He’s awake.”

“Oh great. The demigod has arisen.” Spike yawned.

I filled a cup with coffee and moved over to the table. From beneath the pillow, he looked up and murmured good morning.

“Did we?”

“No.”

“Oh good.” He rolled over and stood up.

“Where are my pants?”

I gestured with a nod toward Sophie who was still clutching them.

“Sorry. Here.”

She thrust them at him and let out a snicker.

“Thanks.” He slipped into them.

“There’s some coffee on the counter,” I said. “Not sure if you take it black but…”

“Does your head feel like it’s splitting apart?”

“That would be putting it mildly.”

He had barely had a chance to take a swig of his coffee when Sophie double-timed it over and introduced herself. “I’m Sophie, by the way. Most call me Shortie, but you can call me whatever the hell you damn well please.”

He nodded with a smirk. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’ve got all your music. Like even those rare B tracks. And even a T-shirt with your face on it. I wear it all the time, don’t I, Meghan?” She said it without even looking my way.

She held Chase’s hand for an extended amount of time, until I widened my eyes and nudged her. “Oh. Right.”

Turning on her heel, Sophie tugged at Spike. “We should go.”

“But I was just about to have my fry-up.”

I could see her clenching her teeth. “You can eat it downstairs. Let’s go.”

“All right. All right. Hold on to your underpants.”

Spike cast a glance over his shoulder and mouthed, “We need to talk,” before Sophie dragged him out of the apartment. After they left I went and dug around the medicine cabinet for some Tylenol. I left a couple on the counter and told Chase I was going to take a quick shower. He inquired if he could join me. I promptly said no. I didn’t feel sexy, heck, I had slept in my clothes and I must have spilled beer down me as I stunk.

As the hot water eased my throbbing head, I thought about the previous night. At least what I could remember of it. The way he kissed me. His hands around my waist. The taste of his mouth.

By the time I got out, and had changed into some new clothes, I could hear him tinkering around on my guitar. I owned a Taylor. My father had bought it for me a year before my parents passed away. It was my pride and joy.

When I came out, he was sitting barefoot without any shirt, just his blue jeans on. It was a sight I could find myself getting used to. His body was a work of art. Rigid and strong, and ripped. I tried not to focus on his body as I joined him in the living room.

“Sounds good.”

“Yeah, I think I might have the melody for the chorus you wrote.”

“Play it, and let’s see.”

* * *

I
played
it back and if it wasn’t a perfect match, I don’t know what was. I sang the chorus and she joined in.

“
Y
eah
, I think you nailed it,” she said, patting me on the shoulder.

“We need to get this recorded, and you’ll have your song.”

My phone started buzzing. I was lost in thought, still strumming away on a couple of chords. Humming quietly to myself. I could see how immersed she got in the music. It was like it took her to a different place. She didn’t wait for me to get the phone. I watched as she went over and dug around in my jacket and glanced at it.

“Mia?”

I glanced over at Meghan and reached for the phone.

“Mia, I’ve got it. It’s done. It’s in the bag.”

He looked at me, smiling from ear to ear.

“That’s good, Chase. I’m pleased for you. Now maybe you can explain why I’m having to do damage control before I’ve even had my morning coffee?”

“What?”

“Check your email.”

A few seconds later she sent a link via email. I clicked it and YouTube popped up. I exhaled hard, blowing out my cheeks. There I was for all the world to see. Despite Kyle and his numbsack of a friend not recognizing who I was, obviously one of his other friends had, as it was shot from across the parking lot. A moment later it zoomed and even with it jerking up and down as the person was running, it picked up my face perfectly, along with Kyle and… oh no… Meghan.

“Yeah, now I want you back in New York immediately.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Do I even dare ask? Is this to do with the little hussy that is with you in that video?”

“Don’t speak about her like that.”

“Well, isn’t that what you are used to fucking?”

“Listen, I’ll get this sorted out.”

“No. I will. As that’s what I do. Once again you have given the label another reason to end your contract. Now you need to send me the song this morning, so I can go with some ammo.”

“I… Uh. It’s not recorded.”

“Well, find a studio and do it now.”

“I’m on it.”

I snapped closed my phone and began tapping my foot. I always did it when I was nervous or bothered. And this was just unreal.

Meghan had been listening the whole time. She twisted her hair up and tied it in a ponytail behind her head. She looked even lovelier in the morning, without her makeup.

No. Snap out of it, I told myself. I have to get this song recorded immediately.

“So what’s the deal?”

“What’s the deal? The deal is that those idiots from last night have a video that has gone viral of me and Kyle locking heads. If one thing isn’t enough, now I have to deal with that. Plus she wants the song.”

* * *

T
here was
a knock at the door.

“So we find a recording studio and get this made.”

The next knock was followed by Sophie popping her head in.

“Uh, a bit of a problem. Can I have a word?”

“Can it wait?” I stammered.

“No. You want to see this.”

I locked eyes with Chase and let out a sigh, exasperated with it all. I made my way over to the door and stepped out, closing it behind me.

“What is it?”

She motioned downstairs. “See for yourself.”

I padded down the steps into the café. I grimaced turning the corner at the thought of finding Spike in an intimate situation with another melon.

Instead, as I rounded the bend, to my horror, outside the front door of the café, was a crowd of reporters. Cameras were flashing, large boom mics were banging against the glass. Each of them was edging to get a better shot.

I didn’t wait a second longer. I flew back around the corner and up the stairs. One look at my face when I entered the apartment and Chase knew this wasn’t good.

“What is it?”

“OK. Um. Don’t panic, but I think you might need to use the back door, or spend the next week or two locked up in here.”

That was all I needed to say for him to get the gist. He got up and went to the window. He stepped back immediately.

“Oh, you have got to be joking? How the hell could they have known where I was this fast?”

He was frantic and moving around the room fast gathering the rest of his clothes.

“They have ways of figuring this stuff out. No doubt whoever put up the video, also tipped them off.”

“You think,” he spluttered, making me sound like an idiot. The words cut into me.

“Look, just relax. Stay a couple of days here. They’ll soon leave once you don’t appear.”

He stopped and looked straight at me. His face was completely serious. “No. No they won’t.”

“Look, we’ll slip out the back, head over to the bar and I’ll drive you back to the cottage —”

“No, you won’t. I can’t go back there.”

It was if someone had flipped a switch. He went from super nice to nasty in a matter of seconds.

“OK, somewhere else? Anywhere you want.”

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“No, of course. You wouldn’t know. Man, I was stupid to get wrapped up with you.”

“What?” I scowled at him, barely able to comprehend what he was saying.

“This. You. Me. It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done this.”

“Huh,” I said, taken aback by it. Hurt.

“I’m glad I never slept with you.”

“You and me both.”

That was the last straw.

“Get out.”

“I can’t. Don’t you get it? Even when I try to walk away from this, I can’t.”

I studied his face. He had slowed down and slumped into the chair.

“What are you not telling me?”

He stared ahead as if trying to recall something painful from the past.

“She meant everything to me.”

“Who?”

“Emily.” His eyes met mine. I was still confused.

“Two years ago, I met a girl. She was like you in many ways. Different in appearance but the same zeal for life. I began dating her. I spent most of my time when I wasn’t on tour with her. But everything we did was secretive. You wouldn’t have read about it in the tabloids, well, at least until that night.”