You Really Got Me (Rock Star Romance #1) (29 page)

Whatever. It was done. And it would do great things for the band. Besides, she had momentum of her own. “Hey, I’ve got great news.” She paused. “I’ve got an interview.”

Confusion flashed over Tiana’s features. “You’re getting a job here? In Austin?”

“No. New York. And it’s just one of many I’m setting up.”

“You’re
leaving
Austin?”

Emmie shrugged, trying hard to ignore the twist in her stomach. “I have to. Come on, Tiana, you know I can’t wait around anymore.”

“Does Slater know?”

She shook her head. “I’ll tell him on Monday. Let him enjoy this weekend. It’s such a big deal, getting signed. We can talk about it after.” She stuck her nose in her menu, determined to block out her emotions, if just for tonight. “So, what looks good?”

“Emmie?” one of the most familiar voices in the world called.

She looked up, and happiness burst inside her chest at the sight of her big, bad brother striding toward her. In his worn jeans, tight white T-shirt, and leather wristbands, he looked completely out of place in the elegant restaurant. Bolting out of her seat, she threw herself into his arms. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He rocked her back and forth. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” They pulled apart, and he handed her a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

She breathed them in. “Thank you.”

“That’s from me.” They sat down, and he handed her a pretty gift box. “And this is from Slater.”

She held his gaze, so grateful he’d come for her birthday. If only . . . she wished she could stop the thoughts from coming, but she couldn’t help wondering why Derek was here and not her boyfriend. When she saw a hint of pity, she quickly looked away,

“Open it,” he said.

She slid the box aside. “Later. So, how come you’re here? Shouldn’t you be at the party?”

He shrugged, then leaned back as the waiter filled his water glass. “This is where I want to be.”

It was that simple. Somehow for Slater, though, it wasn’t. No, no. She knew he needed to be at the party.

Derek’s hand closed over hers. The cold of his metal rings seeped under her skin. “Believe me, he’d rather be here.”

“He has to be at the party. I know that.” Her gaze flicked over to Tiana, catching the look of pity in her eyes, too. “Guys, stop. You’re the ones making a bigger deal out of this birthday than I am. Of course he has to be at the party. I’m fine.”

“Oh, my God, open the present.” Tiana pushed the box toward Emmie.

Emmie slid it aside. “I will, but let’s order before that poor waiter loses his mind. He’s been hovering around us for half an hour.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Derek said. “We sat on the tarmac for, like, six days.” He gulped down his water and picked up his menu. His eyes practically popped out of his head. “Are you fucking with me?” He looked between her and Tiana. “Salmon belly? Is that for real?” He read more, and then his head reared back. “Okay, I am not fucking eating some animal’s tongue.” He looked around the restaurant. “No offense, but whose idea was this place?”

“It was mine, asshole.” Tiana smacked him with the menu.

“Tiana, have you met Emmie?” Derek leaned forward, head tilted, as he eyed her incredulously. “She doesn’t eat this shit.”

Tiana smirked. The three of them burst out laughing.

“We’re out of here.” Derek pushed his chair back so harshly the jarring sound made the patrons around them turn to look.

“We can’t just leave.” Tiana looked mortified.

“Why the fuck not?” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and tossed a twenty on the table. “It’s my sister’s birthday. Let’s show her some fun.”

*   *   *

By the time Emmie got home at three in the morning, her feet ached. But she didn’t care because she’d actually managed to spend the last several hours not thinking about any of her problems. She’d had fun.

As Derek locked up the house, she turned to him. “Thank you, Derek. You made it an amazing birthday.”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Why didn’t Slater feel that way?
Stop it
. Seriously, she had to stop doing that.

His features pinched in concern, and he came right up to her. “Hey, he loves you, Em. He wanted to be with you.”

“
You
came home,” she said softly.

“Okay, but I’m telling you, Slater tried. He took it to the wall. But when he told Piper he was coming out here tonight, she threatened to cancel the party. He’s the hot lead singer—the reason to do a story on our band.” Derek shrugged. “She had him by the balls. Now open the present. I want to know what a guy like Slater would get a woman like you.”

She’d left it in the car all night as they’d gone from go-kart racing to the batting cage to line dancing. She just . . . wasn’t ready to open it. “Later.”

His laugh sounded bitter. “I’m the same way. It’s because our parents always disappointed us. Did they even pay attention? I remember asking for a Fender one year, and I got a Razor scooter. A fucking
scooter.
”

She smiled, so glad her brother understood her. “I got a box of gift cards one year. I swear Mom must’ve been at CVS and suddenly remembered it was my birthday. She had to have grabbed one of every kind on the rack because I even had one for Outback Steakhouse.” Steak lover she was
not.

Derek shook his head. “They sucked. What’d they send you this year?”

“Mom gave me a gift card for Amazon.”

“Well, she’s consistent. And Dad?”

“He sent me an e-card.”

“That fucker.” He brought Emmie in for a hug. “I have no idea what Slater got you, but I don’t think he disappointed you. He digs you, Em. He’s never been this way before.”

“I know.” Given the shape of the box, it wasn’t jewelry. And she hoped he hadn’t gotten her lingerie—that just seemed too skeezy. What did she want from him? What would make her happy? She honestly didn’t know.

She only knew she didn’t think she could handle any more disappointment from him.

“Open it.”

“I will. When I get upstairs.” They hugged good night, and then she went to her room.

*   *   *

Teeth brushed, face washed, Emmie turned off the light and headed for bed. The glow of the computer screen reminded her she’d forgotten to shut it down, so she went to her desk. Hand reaching for the mouse, she brushed against the gift.

Just open it
.

Such an odd-size box—like a can of soup could fit in it. She couldn’t think of a single thing he’d get her in that shape. Maybe a snow globe? She tore off the paper—a couple of hot pink flyers announcing their show in Chicago—and found a plain white box. Opening it, she found a red lid. She pulled out the can of chocolate fudge frosting and smiled, remembering what she’d told him all those months ago.

At the bottom of the box was a handwritten note.

I want to be your frosting—all good things to you and for you. Slater.

Clutching the can to her chest, she laughed. She’d been so worried he’d disappoint her—but he hadn’t. He always shot through her fears and landed right in the center of her heart.

God, of course she understood why he’d chosen the party over coming to Austin. Honestly, she’d never cared about her birthday anyway.

Her fingers brushed the mouse so she could shut down her computer, and the screen came to life. The party photographs were probably up already, so she’d quickly log on to the
Beatz
site before calling him.

Immediately, she saw Slater’s face, as gorgeous as a movie star. Emmie’s breath caught in her throat at the vision of Piper Lee wrapped around him like a lover. Both of them laughing. Glamorous, gorgeous, sparkling people.

Falling into the chair, her gaze caught on another image.

Oh, my God
. Her blood turned sluggish, and she heard a ringing in her ears.

Slater wouldn’t do that.

He wouldn’t.

She had to squint a little to make sure she was actually seeing what she thought. It didn’t make sense on any level, and yet . . .

Feet pounded up the stairs, and her door flung open so hard it hit the wall.

“Fuck.” Derek stood in her room, all wild energy. “Tell me that’s not Caroline?”

She wanted to turn and acknowledge him, but her neck wouldn’t move. It was like her mind had completely disconnected from her body. She told her fingers to click to the next image on the screen, but communication had shut down.

“Is it? Is it fucking Caroline Ledger?” Derek stood behind her. “It can’t be what it looks like.”

Of course it could. These were pictures. A photograph simply captured an image. It didn’t invent one.

“He wouldn’t do that,” he said quietly.

Her blood started flowing again as anger crept under her skin. “Do what, exactly?” She pointed to the picture of a naked Caroline Ledger draped across Slater Vaughn’s chest. Her face was nuzzled into his neck, her legs wrapped around his waist. “He wouldn’t hold a naked Caroline?” Her brother was going to defend him?

Like she hadn’t seen it happen dozens of times over the years? Even the nice guys, the ones new to the business, even they succumbed. With enough liquor in them, they got worked up from all the wildness around them. Come on, naked women, hands roaming. Even good guys got carried away in the heat of the moment. She remembered that first night she’d met Slater. He’d stood at the bar as the girls gathered around him, touching him, grabbing him. And he hadn’t minded at all. Hadn’t been the least bit uncomfortable when the blonde had actually stroked him in front of his bandmates, in front of her.

She didn’t think Slater had
slept
with Caroline, but so what? The girl was naked and in his arms. He’d participated in . . . things.

“We gotta get this down before Irwin sees it.” Derek crouched beside her.

She let out a shaky breath. “Irwin’s already seen it.” That she knew for sure.

Derek placed his hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He thought she was upset about Caroline and Slater. Ha. He’d missed the point entirely.

He gave her a gentle shake. “Em?”

But her attention remained riveted to the images. One after another—they just got worse and worse.

“Fuck, Em.” He tried to bat her hand away, to stop her from clicking through the photos, but she nudged him aside. “Shit.”

Slater and Piper. Piper and Slater. Hosting a party together. Arm in arm. Her head resting on his shoulder. Them laughing hard together.

And the quotes? “Slater and I . . .”

“We wrote that one together.”

“When the tour ends, we’re . . .”

“Piper’s talent goes beyond songwriting. She’s fucking brilliant. We . . .”

We. We. We. We. Piper and Slater.
We.

And then the worst one of all. “Jonny and I . . .”

Pain burst in her chest. Jonny? Piper called him
Jonny
? How well did she know him? Had he asked her to call him Jonny? The image flew up into her mind of Piper leaning against him in the lounge, both of them laughing easily together.

Oh, God. He wasn’t just hers anymore. He was Piper’s, too. That special intimacy was shattered.

About to close the laptop, her gaze snagged on a caption. Underneath the biggest shot of all, the centerpiece of the article, it said: “Piper Lee and Slater Vaughn: The Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt of the Music Industry.”

Hard raps jerked him awake. Slater’s head lifted, and pain exploded in his skull.

“Fuck.” His body felt weighted down by sandbags, his stomach roiled. Holy shit, he’d definitely had too much to drink last night. The pounding on the door continued.

“Slater?”

Derek
. What was he so pissed about? Slater’s heart pounded, thinking he might be late for the big meeting. His gaze shot to the alarm clock—eleven twenty. The meeting didn’t start until one. He was fine.

“Goddammit, Slater, so help me God, you better be in there.
Alone.
”

Slater slid his legs out of bed, planting them on the floor. But the head rush knocked him back. “Hang on.”

“Open the fucking door, you asshole.”

Asshole? How was he an asshole? He’d missed Emmie’s birthday to play rock star last night
for the band
. Confused, he got up, threw the locks, and yanked the door open. “What’s your problem?”

Derek charged into the room, looking around like he was on the vice squad.

“What the fuck’re you looking for?”

“Uh, Caroline Ledger?”

“I took her home hours ago. Why would you think she’d be in my room?”

Derek’s hands cupped the sides of his head, and then he drew them back, plastering his hair to his skull. “Did you fuck her?”

Ice water flushed through Slater’s veins. “Did I . . . of course I didn’t. What kind of question is that?”

After taking several breaths, Derek’s head tilted down. “Turn your phone on.”

“Let me take a piss first.”

“Now.”

“Look, man, I don’t know what’s got you so worked up right now, but I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“We have a problem. You need to turn on your phone and go to the
Beatz
website.”

“What happened?” Slater’s mind played through the hundreds of flashes that had gone off last night. The dozens of times Piper had posed with him, grabbed his arm, held him close. “Shit. What did Emmie see?”

“Forget about Emmie. Right now, we have to worry about Irwin.”

Slater’s heart kicked into overdrive. His stomach plummeted. “No.” The memory of him picking up a topless Caroline punched him in the gut. “Caroline?”

“Yes.”

“Someone got a shot of it?” Slater dashed to the dresser, turned on his phone. “She was drunk off her ass. She started taking all her clothes off. I grabbed her and got her out of there before anyone could see.”

“Wrong.”

He’d done it for Emmie. From the moment Caroline had walked into the club, he’d had an eye out for her, remembering what Emmie had said about Irwin’s wild daughter. His phone was taking forever to boot up. God, he hated these things. “Come on, come on.”

Derek grabbed the phone from him, hit the right buttons, and scrolled down the screen. But before he could get to Caroline, Slater saw image after image of him with Piper. They looked like they were having the time of their lives. Shit, they looked like they were a couple. “I was doing my
job
.”

“Congratulations, man. Knocked it out of the park.” He kept scrolling.

“Stop.” Slater’s finger touched the screen, holding one image in place. Piper’s arms belted around his waist, her head resting on his chest. They were both laughing, looking like lovers. And then in bold: “Piper Lee and Slater Vaughn: The Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt of the Music Industry.”

The full force of gravity slammed him down to the chair. “Emmie saw this?”

“Of course. Along with the whole fucking world.”

“Fuck. Shit.” He grabbed his phone out of Derek’s hands and punched Emmie’s speed dial.

“Forget it,” Derek said.

Slater turned away from his friend, mind revving, heart thundering. The line rang.

Derek shook his shoulder. “Dude, not now. You have to handle Irwin.”

Slater ignored him.
Come on, Emmie. Answer
.

“Slater.” Derek tried to grab the phone back.

Slater nearly punched him. “Get the fuck off.”

“Hello?”
Hello?
She answered his call with a stilted
hello
?

“Em, I didn’t do anything with Caroline but bring her drunk ass home.”

“Okay.” She sounded distant, tired. “But I’m not the one you need to be worried about.”

“You don’t believe me. I hear it in your voice.”

“First thing you need to do is get Piper to call her contact at
Beatz
and have them take down that picture of Caroline. The damage is already done, but you need to get it down right away. Then, you need to call Irwin. Don’t lie to him. Just tell him straight up. He’s used to Caroline’s crap.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m some business contact. I need you to—”

“You don’t have time to worry about me. You have to do damage control.”

“Emmie, Jesus, talk to me. You sound like a fucking robot.”

Derek shoved him. “Don’t talk to my sister like that. You’re an asshole if you don’t know what you’ve done to her.”

“I was doing my job.” He had to block out Derek, focus on Emmie. “You know I wanted to be with you last night. Piper threatened to cancel the party if I didn’t show. I know what it looks like in those pictures, but it’s not what happened.”

“They’re
photographs
, Slater. Images capture
what happens
. Therefore, it happened. But none of that matters right now. What matters is fixing this situation with Irwin. You don’t want him as an enemy in this industry. Now, hang up with me and talk to Piper. Then get in touch with Irwin. You have to fix this. I have to go now.”

“No, wait.”

“Slater, stop. Believe it or not, Piper’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“Bullshit. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I might’ve helped you get to this point, but Piper will take you the rest of the way. Trust me, what she did—as long as you fix it with Irwin right away—will make you a household name.”

Her words hit like a fist to his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. “I’m not talking about my fucking career.”

“You should be. Come on, it’s obvious how great you and Piper are together. I knew it from the start. Go with it, Slater, the whole Brangelina thing. You guys can be Sliper or Plater. You’re the wordsmith. Come up with something great.”

“Why are you talking like this?” He didn’t even recognize her. Is this what she’d done after she’d walked in on Alex banging the twins? Gone on autopilot? “Stop this shit right now. There is no Piper and Slater.”

“If you think PR isn’t going to want to continue this sham, you’re naïve. But, hey, why bother pretending? Why not just go for it? She’s great at everything else. I’ll bet she’s dynamite in bed.”

“No. No. No. I’ll quit the band before I give you up. I love you, Emmie.”

She went quiet. Had he broken through? Was she softening? He had to get through to her. “Em—”

“Good luck, Slater.” And with that she disconnected.

Jesus,
good luck
? Like he was some guy she barely knew?

She’d given up on him.

“Goddammit.”

“Call Piper,” Derek said.

Slater grabbed his gym bag, started stuffing his clothing inside.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to Austin.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Derek yanked the bag out of Slater’s hands, tossed it across the room. “You’re staying here and fixing this.”

“I’m fixing things with Emmie first.”

“The fuck you are.”

“None of this other shit matters.”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

In the bathroom, he grabbed his toothbrush and razor. “Get what?”

Derek stood behind him in the mirror, holding his gaze. The intense and deadly look in his eye fused Slater’s joints.

“You just blew up our record deal.”

Derek couldn’t have hurt him worse if he’d taken a tire iron to the side of his head.

Jesus Christ. He’d done it again. Gotten so close and then fucked it all up. Only this time it wasn’t just his career. It was the guys. His brothers. He’d fucking failed them.

He was just like his dad.

“You’re staying until you fix it. You owe us that.”

“I’ll call Irwin on the way to the airport. I will. But I have to fix things with Emmie first.”

Slinging his duffel over his shoulder, he threw open the door and strode down the hall. Derek caught up with him, latching onto his arm and swinging him around.

“Slater.”

That tone jerked him back. It wasn’t just urgent. It held an undercurrent of pity.

“Listen to me,” Derek said. “There’s nothing to fix.”

“Bullshit.” Tearing out of his friend’s hold, Slater continued on toward the elevator, hit the call button.

“She’s done.”

Slater’s blood turned to ice, and he turned to face his friend.

“Seriously, man, I know my sister. She’s done with you.”

*   *   *

Frigid air hit him the minute the revolving door belched him out onto the street. Slater went right to the valet and asked for a cab. Derek was on him like a fucking leech.

“Get off me.” Slater said it low, rough.

The cab pulled up, and Slater tossed his duffel onto the seat and slid in. Just as he reached for the door, Derek’s arm came out, forcing it open. He climbed in.

“LaGuardia,” Slater said.

At the same time Derek said, “Rockefeller Center.”

The driver twisted around to give them a confused look.

“I’m going to the fucking airport.”

Derek held up a finger to the driver. “We’re going to Amoeba Records. We’re talking to Irwin. Emmie’s already talked to Caroline. She’s agreed to meet us there.”

“Great. Sounds like you’ve got it under control.” To the cab driver, he said, “LaGuardia.”

“No. You’re the one who has to talk to Irwin. And you haven’t even called Piper yet.”

“I’ll call her on the way to the airport.”

“You’ll call her now.”

“You sure you want me to do that?” Slater gave Derek a hard look.

“Of course I’m sure.”

“After what she’s done to me, you want me to talk to her?”

“What did she do, man? Seriously? We couldn’t even buy this kind of promo. What she did was pretty brilliant.”

Slater had never in his life worked harder to tamp down rage. “She fucked with me. She fucked with my life.” She cost him Emmie.

“Yeah, she did. But she’s played you from the start. Don’t tell me any of this shit comes as a surprise.”

“Do you know how hard I’ve worked to manage the entire situation?”
While you got laid and loaded every night and had a great time?
“The only reason last night happened is because I was trying so hard to not fuck things up. You think it hasn’t been killing me to balance that manipulative bitch against my career and my girlfriend? Jesus, fuck, Derek. You have no idea.”

Slater blew out a breath, tilting his head back against the seat. He swallowed, pulled himself together. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the band. Last night, I should’ve been with my girl. But I played my part. Because it got us press, just like you all wanted. We’re a name now because of those pictures on that fucking blog. And it cost me my girl. Now get out of my cab and let me go work things out with her. You can do damage control here. You don’t need me to do it.”

“Not sure Irwin’s gonna see it that way. Look, man, you’re the one in the picture. You gotta make it right.”

Reason burned through Slater’s panic. The noise in his head settled down. He
was
the one who needed to tell Irwin what had happened last night. And he owed it to the guys to try and fix things. “Fine.” He turned to the driver. “Rockefeller Center.”

But by the end of this fucked-up day, he’d be in Austin with his girl.

*   *   *

Slater’s hand shook as he tried to align the key with the lock. He couldn’t get it in. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Pounding on the door, he shouted, “Emmie?” Okay, he had to calm down. He had to have his wits about him when he talked to her.

He got the key in, turned the lock, and pushed the door open. The emptiness hit him right away, and he almost didn’t want to step inside.

Never in his life had he felt such a dead, lifeless room. All the air had been sucked out of it. “Emmie?” Dropping his bag, he noticed the raincoat she left on the hook by the door was gone. He tore through the house. Everything was neat and clean, barely lived in.

What the fuck? She’d
left
him? Why hadn’t Derek told him that?

Fear spiked into the base of his spine, releasing an electrical current that stung his skin. It was a perfectly sunny day. Two coffee mugs sat on the counter, and the orange light of the coffeemaker was on.

Okay, okay. He was losing it. Maybe she
was
here. “Emmie,” he snapped. He reached for the back door, remembering her skinny dipping all those months ago, how completely taken with her he’d been even then. It was locked, so he spun around and raced up the stairs. The door to her room stood wide open.

He felt death. The same cold fear he’d experienced when the police had come to the house with the news that his dad had died in a car crash.

He stepped into the empty room. No computer on the desk, no framed photos on her dresser, no pink sweater on the back of her chair. A spot of red on the floor under the desk caught his attention. Crouching, he found the can of frosting he’d given her for her birthday.

Shit. He picked it up, then kicked open the closet to find nothing but hangers. On the floor he found a pair of sparkly flip flops, a white tank top, and a single hoop earring. He scooped up the earring, stuffed it in his pocket.

He thought he was going to die. It wasn’t possible to live with this pain in his heart. He turned to the bed, noticed the rumpled sheets. Looked like she’d had a restless night.

Because of
him
.

Because of Piper. In all his life he’d never hated anyone. Hadn’t cared enough about someone
to
hate them. But he hated Piper Lee. The idea of finishing out the tour with her . . . not going to happen.

He couldn’t bear to be in Emmie’s room, filled with her fresh, sweet scent, so he headed out into the hall, pushing open the bathroom door with one finger.