The Complete Rockstar Series by Heather C. Leigh
It never occurs to me that my first thought wasn’t to ring Logan and share the good news, it was to ring Dax.
Maybe I’m not cured after all.
Dax
“This is so stupid,” I mutter to myself as I stop my Ducati in a large parking lot surrounded by a half-dozen green football pitches.
Kicking down the stand, I pull off my helmet and set it between my legs. There are players on every single field, ranging in age from primary school through young adult. The littlest children squeal in delight as they pass the ball back and forth. Wistfully, I remember wanting to play footy as a kid and my dad responding by having me hit a punching bag for an hour.
I don’t know why I’m here. Maybe I just need to make absolutely sure Kate is okay. I’ve been replaying the conversation I had with Abby at Kate’s football game over and over in my head for the last six months. Once I let the cat out of the bag about Kate’s assault, I never got around to finding out if Kate was able to find some semblance of happiness.
For some reason I need to know.
Reaching down, I pull a hat out from the compartment under the seat and tug it down low. Hopefully, with my sunglasses on, no one will recognize me. It tends to be fifty-fifty when I go out alone without a beard or disguise of some sort. When I’m with Adam, it’s one hundred percent guaranteed that someone will spot us. There are quite a few benefits in not being the lead singer.
I don’t want to pass through the actual office building to get access to the pitches. There’s too much chance in being recognized and then I’d have to explain my reason for being here. I walk directly over to the fence surrounding the property that spans the length of the fields. I’m passing the second pitch when I spot her not more than twenty meters away.
Heat spread across my skin, my heart pumping blood through my veins at a pace fast enough to feel my pulse throbbing in my neck. A lump forms in my throat. I try to swallow it down, but it refuses to move.
Unwelcome emotions flood my brain, emotions I’ve shut down every time they’ve tried to appear—longing, heartbreak, and most of all fear. Fear that Kate will turn me away, that she despises me for what I did.
She’s speaking to a teenage girl, maybe fifteen years old. The girl is chatting animatedly, pointing down the pitch and making gestures as she speaks. Kate is smiling, her face radiant, nodding at the girl’s words. Kate kneels down and flexes the girl’s left ankle this way and that, doing some sort of clinical exam.
Watching her, the genuine joy on her face, reminds me of a time when I was the one who made her happy. I was the one who held her when her team lost a match, the one she smiled at when she aced her latest exam. Seeing her getting along without me is heart wrenching. I’m glad that Kate has found something that makes her happy, yet I’m upset that it seems she was able to move on.
What did you expect, Davies? For her to cry for two years?
No. All I can hope for is that inside, she’s as lost without me as I am without her. That maybe some of the feelings she had for me are still there, even if it’s only a tiny sliver.
The young player trots off towards the building and Kate begins to put her gear away.
Now or never, Davies.
I’m about to call out her name when a dark haired man dressed in football gear jogs up to Kate. I was wrong. Kate wasn’t radiant when she was helping the girl with her ankle. She was merely doing her job.
When this bloke comes over, her entire face lights up in a way that makes radiant look dull. She’s stunning. She’s thrilled. She exudes happiness from every pore. The man lowers his mouth to hers, kissing her right there on the pitch.
Fuck. She’s in love. And it’s not with me.
58
Six months later
Kate
“Kate! Kate, wake up!”
I gasp, shooting up out of bed, my heart racing in terror.
“You were screaming. Are you okay?”
My eyes adjust to the dim light of my bedroom, finding my poor flatmate crouched over me, looking scared to death.
“I’m sorry, Abby. It was just a nightmare.” I fall back onto the bed, giving my trembling pulse a chance to slow down.
“Jesus, Kate.” Abby sits down on the edge of the mattress. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I should. I really should. The nightmares have been getting worse. So bad, in fact, that I’ve stayed up late every night for a week. Maybe talking about them will help make them stop.
It’s essential that they stop before I head overseas for the games leading up to the Olympics. That’s all I need is to terrify a teammate with my screaming nightmares. We’d both lose enough sleep to be crap on the pitch the next day.
“Abby…” I pause, taking in a shaky breath. “I’d like to tell you about my dreams.”
Abby’s eyes go wide, the whites standing out in the dark room. Her hand digs under the sheets for mine, gripping it tight when she finds it. “Of course. We’re best friends. Take your time. Tell me what the nightmare was about.”
Embarrassingly, the damn tears start welling up in my eyes. “Crap.” I use the corner of the duvet to wipe them off. How do I tell my best friend that I keep reliving the almost-rape from two and a half years ago? Only, in my dream, Dax and Lila are watching me, laughing.
I spend the next twenty minutes giving Abby a tearful version of the different nightmares. The fact that the incident happened in this very room. In this bed. Certainly makes them worse. Abby cries with me, climbing under the covers and stroking my head while I sob.
We lie there for a while, both of us emotionally wrung out. My stomach decides to growl quite loudly and inappropriately. Laughing, it breaks the somber mood and we decide to order takeaway.
“Nothing helps heal the heart like a giant, fatty meal,” Abby chirps as she digs through a junk drawer for the menu to a local Chinese restaurant.
“Ha!” I say sarcastically. “I wish. I’d be all fixed by now if that were true.”
Abby puts down the stack of menus, walking up to where I’m plunked down on the sofa. “Stop that, Kate. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve been through some really fucked up shit, okay? You’re allowed to feel. Even if it’s not always good or happy, just feeling something means you’re alive. No one expects you to be perfect and smiling all the time.”
I stare at my fingernails, suddenly fascinated by them. “I know that.”
She rips my hand away from my face. “Do you really know that? It’s okay to take time to heal. It’s okay to need to figure out who you are.”
I start to get defensive. “I know that, Abby! Why are you getting mad at me?”
“I’m not mad, Kate. I just, I wish we talked sooner, more often. That’s all. Maybe I could have helped before it got this bad.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I should have let it out and discussed everything. I just, I didn’t want you worrying for me all the time.” I start picking at the sofa cushion.
“Well I do that anyway. Do you feel better? After getting it off your chest?”
Do I?
“Yeah. I do.”
“See. At least my education wasn’t a total waste.” Abby picks up her mobile and phones in our order.
While she does that, my own mobile buzzes from between the sofa cushions. I check it and immediately silence the call.
“Ignoring Logan again? When are you going to realize that Logan might care about you, but he’s so jealous of your success that he can’t see straight?” Abby flops down next to me, jostling me sideways. “He’s been weird ever since you made the Olympic team.”
“Hey! Buggar off! He’s not like that.” I say it confidently, but I know that Logan is exactly that… jealous. Since he found out I made the team, he’s been taking his annoyance out on me. Not physically. He snaps a lot, is easily frustrated. Or maybe it’s the lack of sex that’s got him all wound up since I still won’t go there with him.
Maybe the dreams aren’t the only reason I haven’t spent time with him lately. He’
s repeatedly attempted to move things forward physically, and had to deal with my rejection every time.
“Have you talked about what’s going to happen with him when you leave the country next month?” She leans back with her arms folded across her chest.
“Well, no. Not exactly. But—”
“Like I said. You need to end things with him. At least have the decency to break up with him before you leave for Europe for a year.”
I huff loudly, but don’t feel the irritation to back up the sound. “He wants to come visit. At the Olympics, Abby.”
Abby’s mouth falls open. Her hands dart out and cover one of mine. “That’s a terrible idea, Kate. He won’t be able to deal with the attention you’ll be getting. He’ll make the proudest moment of your life miserable.”
I know she’s right. He will be an absolute shit if he goes with me.
“I’ll break up with him before I leave,” I tell her. I cut off her smile, adding on to my promise. “After my last day at work. No sense making everything awkward when I only have a few weeks left.” I put my notice in since I’ll be gone for so long.
She pats my hand. “Good idea. Just don’t leave it until the last minute. He might be an ass sometimes but that’s cruel.”
A knock on the door lets us know our food is here. Abby get it and unpacks the bag onto the table.
“I won’t wait until the last minute, mum. Can we eat now?” I ask, done with discussing Logan.
Abby doesn’t respond. She simply picks up her chopsticks and stuffs her mouth full of tangerine chicken. I take that as a yes and dig into my own container of beef chow Mein.
Dax
“Hell that felt good,” I exclaim as Adam, Gavin, Hawke and I head out of Ross’ office.
“About time, yeah?” Adam punches my arm, grinning like a fool.
Gavin glances around with a nervous tic as we exit the lifts and cross the enormous lobby of our new record label.
“You alright, mate?” I ask, watching as his bloodshot eyes dart back and forth suspiciously.
“I’m fine,” he snaps. Dismissing me completely.
Hawke grimaces at Gavin’s back but keeps his thoughts to himself. Adam is going on and on about our new label and how great it will be to have more creative control.
Me? All I care about is the fact that I won’t have to deal with Lila fucking Griffin and her mountain of bullshit anymore.
Gavin’s Range Rover is waiting for us out front. Ross’ secretary must have called to have it brought around. Outside, it’s a real scorcher, even for L.A. in July. Hot enough to roast your bollocks if you stay in the sun too long.
Gavin hurries around the front of the SUV and jumps in, slouching down behind the wheel.
“What’s up with him?” I nudge Hawke’s arm and point towards Gavin with my chin.
“Oh, nothing. It’s probably the heat, that’s all.” Hawke opens the passenger door and climbs in next to Gavin.
“Okaaay,” I say to myself.
When I climb into the back seat, I turn expecting Adam to be following me, but I’m alone. I look outside and realize he’s made a few new friends. A group of girls has him surrounded, smiling and taking selfies with their phones. Adam is grinning, playing along and signing whatever scraps of paper they come up with.
“Fucking asshole. Always gets the girls,” Hawke mutters.
“Oh fuck off,” I say lightly. “You get so much pussy you’re buried in it.”
That’s no lie. Women really really like Hawke and his tattooed, skater boy look. Hell, they like all of us, although Adam gets the most attention by far.
He makes it look so easy. You’d never know by his public behavior how miserable the bloke is. Adam’s only sober this morning because we had a meeting with the executives for our new label and if he fucked it up for us, we’d have killed him. Inside that tortured mind of his, I’m certain he’s counting the minutes until he can get his hands on his next drink.
Adam waves, expertly extracting himself from the groping hands. “Thanks ladies. Cheers!”
He climbs into the seat next to mine, grinning like an idiot.
“Can we go now, your highness? Or is your fan club still needing your service?” I ask, pointing at the now very large group of girls he’s left squealing on the sidewalk to take pictures of the SUV.
Before Adam can answer, Gavin slams down on the gas, rocketing the massive vehicle out into traffic. A loud horn sounds as the squeal of breaks echoes up and down the street.
“Jesus, Gav, watch it!” Hawke yells from the front seat. “Fuck! That car almost hit us.”
Hawke is freaking out over the near miss, hurling a slew of insults at his best friend. Gavin mumbles an apology under his breath, which only causes Hawke’s face to darken with fury.
Adam and I exchange glances, but stay silent. Gavin’s been off lately. Edgy, nervous, like a rabbit being stalked by a fox. He looks like something you’d find in the bottom of your bin, not the posh, well-dressed man I’m used to seeing.
Hell, between the four of us, you’d think at least one of us could be a normal, functioning member of society. But no, we’re all equally fucked in the head, it seems.
Bloody brilliant.
* * *
Gavin drops us off at Hawke’s place, a nice house he bought up in the hills. We decided to grab a bite to eat and Gavin begged off, saying he had something to do. He tore out of the driveway so fast I’m wondering if he’s stable enough to be behind the wheel.
Whatever is bothering Gavin, that near accident made Hawke shoot him a look so dark, you’d think Gavin went and dropped a clanger on his living room carpet.
“That was strange,” Adam quips, before heading straight for Hawke’s liquor cabinet.
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. Telling Adam not to drink does absolutely nothing. If anything, it makes him more determined, even if he does appreciate our concern. Banging my head against a wall isn’t something I enjoy.
“Let it go,” I tell Adam, though it’s more for Hawke’s sake. “If Gavin has something he wants to discuss with us, he will.”
Hawke laughs, “Yeah, because we’re all the type to sit down and have a sharing of feelings moment.”
“Fuck off, Evans.” I flip him the finger, American style, and smile.
Hawke and I set to making lunch, or in this case, pulling out food Hawke’s housekeeper has stocked in his fridge. Adam plops down on the sofa with his drink, singing along with the XM channel he selected.
Miley Cyrus, wonderful.
I glance at Hawke and catch his eye. “We need to hurry,” I whisper. I have to get him back to the hotel before he’s too pissed to move.”
Hawke nods. “I have plans later. I can’t babysit his ass tonight, but he can crash here if he has to.”
“It’s your call, mate.”
Hawke’s dealt with drunk Adam before. Hell, we all have. He shrugs and I take that as a yes.
“Right then. I’ll eat then call a cab so you don’t have to drive me back to the hotel. It’s only a few minutes away.”
He agrees and we dig in, serenaded by international rock star Adam Reynolds as he belts his way through an impressive rendition of Wrecking Ball.
Fuck, if the public only knew.
* * *
An hour and a half later, I collapse onto one of the leather recliners in my hotel suite, new contract in hand.
No more Lila.
I close my eyes, trying to imagine how great it will be to work and go on tour and not have to deal with her. No more of that stupid bloody show of hers, either. Thank god for that. I’ve avoided her as much as possible, but she still catches me with those damn cameras now and then. When she does, I try to curse a lot so the footage will be useless.
I chuckle at the thought, my eyes still closed.
A sharp rap on my door breaks my little fantasy.
Hell, it better not be Adam. I’d be shocked if Hawke brought him home already. We both live in the Chateau Mar
mont. Each of us for similar reasons. Neither of us particularly cares for L.A. and neither of us wants to settle down in a house alone. That would be admitting that we’ll never get our girls back.
Pathetic? Maybe. I can’t be bothered to give a shit.
Stupidly, I yank open the door without checking who it is and find myself face to face with Lila Griffin, surprisingly without her camera entourage.
“What the fuck do you want, Lila,” I growl, feeling the hostility heat the blood in my veins like a match to gasoline.
“Why yes. I’d love to come in,” she says acerbically, shoving past me into the suite.
I slam the door a little, okay maybe a lot, too loudly. “Why are you here, Lila?” I cross my arms over my chest and give her my most intimidating stare.
She stands her ground. I’m impressed. She’s either brave or stupid. “You think you’ve gotten rid of me?” she snaps out. “You haven’t. Not by a long shot. I’ll make you sorry that you left my dad… that you left me.”
So she knows we’ve jumped ship from her dad’s record label. “Like I give a fuck what you do.” I stalk over to where she’s standing, hands on her hips and a hideous, twisted grimace on her face.
Towering over her, I make myself perfectly clear. “Get out. Don’t ever come back. If you do, I’ll make your life a living hell. Daddy isn’t going to be there to control me anymore so you’d better hope I never see you again.”
Lila’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She quickly contains her reaction, her mouth spreading into a flat evil grin. “You fucked up, Dax. You could have had it all. My dad’s power and influence, my show to make you a household name, me. Now I’ll make sure you know what it feels like to be fucked over.”
Who the hell does she think she is? She’s a bloody nutter.
“Leave. Now.” I walk back over to the foyer and open the door. “Or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
Lila does as I ask, swinging her hips as she teeters on those ridiculous heels of hers. I step back when she attempts to touch my chest as she walks by, her hand swiping nothing but air.
Maybe I’m not cured after all.
Dax
“This is so stupid,” I mutter to myself as I stop my Ducati in a large parking lot surrounded by a half-dozen green football pitches.
Kicking down the stand, I pull off my helmet and set it between my legs. There are players on every single field, ranging in age from primary school through young adult. The littlest children squeal in delight as they pass the ball back and forth. Wistfully, I remember wanting to play footy as a kid and my dad responding by having me hit a punching bag for an hour.
I don’t know why I’m here. Maybe I just need to make absolutely sure Kate is okay. I’ve been replaying the conversation I had with Abby at Kate’s football game over and over in my head for the last six months. Once I let the cat out of the bag about Kate’s assault, I never got around to finding out if Kate was able to find some semblance of happiness.
For some reason I need to know.
Reaching down, I pull a hat out from the compartment under the seat and tug it down low. Hopefully, with my sunglasses on, no one will recognize me. It tends to be fifty-fifty when I go out alone without a beard or disguise of some sort. When I’m with Adam, it’s one hundred percent guaranteed that someone will spot us. There are quite a few benefits in not being the lead singer.
I don’t want to pass through the actual office building to get access to the pitches. There’s too much chance in being recognized and then I’d have to explain my reason for being here. I walk directly over to the fence surrounding the property that spans the length of the fields. I’m passing the second pitch when I spot her not more than twenty meters away.
Heat spread across my skin, my heart pumping blood through my veins at a pace fast enough to feel my pulse throbbing in my neck. A lump forms in my throat. I try to swallow it down, but it refuses to move.
Unwelcome emotions flood my brain, emotions I’ve shut down every time they’ve tried to appear—longing, heartbreak, and most of all fear. Fear that Kate will turn me away, that she despises me for what I did.
She’s speaking to a teenage girl, maybe fifteen years old. The girl is chatting animatedly, pointing down the pitch and making gestures as she speaks. Kate is smiling, her face radiant, nodding at the girl’s words. Kate kneels down and flexes the girl’s left ankle this way and that, doing some sort of clinical exam.
Watching her, the genuine joy on her face, reminds me of a time when I was the one who made her happy. I was the one who held her when her team lost a match, the one she smiled at when she aced her latest exam. Seeing her getting along without me is heart wrenching. I’m glad that Kate has found something that makes her happy, yet I’m upset that it seems she was able to move on.
What did you expect, Davies? For her to cry for two years?
No. All I can hope for is that inside, she’s as lost without me as I am without her. That maybe some of the feelings she had for me are still there, even if it’s only a tiny sliver.
The young player trots off towards the building and Kate begins to put her gear away.
Now or never, Davies.
I’m about to call out her name when a dark haired man dressed in football gear jogs up to Kate. I was wrong. Kate wasn’t radiant when she was helping the girl with her ankle. She was merely doing her job.
When this bloke comes over, her entire face lights up in a way that makes radiant look dull. She’s stunning. She’s thrilled. She exudes happiness from every pore. The man lowers his mouth to hers, kissing her right there on the pitch.
Fuck. She’s in love. And it’s not with me.
58
Six months later
Kate
“Kate! Kate, wake up!”
I gasp, shooting up out of bed, my heart racing in terror.
“You were screaming. Are you okay?”
My eyes adjust to the dim light of my bedroom, finding my poor flatmate crouched over me, looking scared to death.
“I’m sorry, Abby. It was just a nightmare.” I fall back onto the bed, giving my trembling pulse a chance to slow down.
“Jesus, Kate.” Abby sits down on the edge of the mattress. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I should. I really should. The nightmares have been getting worse. So bad, in fact, that I’ve stayed up late every night for a week. Maybe talking about them will help make them stop.
It’s essential that they stop before I head overseas for the games leading up to the Olympics. That’s all I need is to terrify a teammate with my screaming nightmares. We’d both lose enough sleep to be crap on the pitch the next day.
“Abby…” I pause, taking in a shaky breath. “I’d like to tell you about my dreams.”
Abby’s eyes go wide, the whites standing out in the dark room. Her hand digs under the sheets for mine, gripping it tight when she finds it. “Of course. We’re best friends. Take your time. Tell me what the nightmare was about.”
Embarrassingly, the damn tears start welling up in my eyes. “Crap.” I use the corner of the duvet to wipe them off. How do I tell my best friend that I keep reliving the almost-rape from two and a half years ago? Only, in my dream, Dax and Lila are watching me, laughing.
I spend the next twenty minutes giving Abby a tearful version of the different nightmares. The fact that the incident happened in this very room. In this bed. Certainly makes them worse. Abby cries with me, climbing under the covers and stroking my head while I sob.
We lie there for a while, both of us emotionally wrung out. My stomach decides to growl quite loudly and inappropriately. Laughing, it breaks the somber mood and we decide to order takeaway.
“Nothing helps heal the heart like a giant, fatty meal,” Abby chirps as she digs through a junk drawer for the menu to a local Chinese restaurant.
“Ha!” I say sarcastically. “I wish. I’d be all fixed by now if that were true.”
Abby puts down the stack of menus, walking up to where I’m plunked down on the sofa. “Stop that, Kate. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve been through some really fucked up shit, okay? You’re allowed to feel. Even if it’s not always good or happy, just feeling something means you’re alive. No one expects you to be perfect and smiling all the time.”
I stare at my fingernails, suddenly fascinated by them. “I know that.”
She rips my hand away from my face. “Do you really know that? It’s okay to take time to heal. It’s okay to need to figure out who you are.”
I start to get defensive. “I know that, Abby! Why are you getting mad at me?”
“I’m not mad, Kate. I just, I wish we talked sooner, more often. That’s all. Maybe I could have helped before it got this bad.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I should have let it out and discussed everything. I just, I didn’t want you worrying for me all the time.” I start picking at the sofa cushion.
“Well I do that anyway. Do you feel better? After getting it off your chest?”
Do I?
“Yeah. I do.”
“See. At least my education wasn’t a total waste.” Abby picks up her mobile and phones in our order.
While she does that, my own mobile buzzes from between the sofa cushions. I check it and immediately silence the call.
“Ignoring Logan again? When are you going to realize that Logan might care about you, but he’s so jealous of your success that he can’t see straight?” Abby flops down next to me, jostling me sideways. “He’s been weird ever since you made the Olympic team.”
“Hey! Buggar off! He’s not like that.” I say it confidently, but I know that Logan is exactly that… jealous. Since he found out I made the team, he’s been taking his annoyance out on me. Not physically. He snaps a lot, is easily frustrated. Or maybe it’s the lack of sex that’s got him all wound up since I still won’t go there with him.
Maybe the dreams aren’t the only reason I haven’t spent time with him lately. He’
“Have you talked about what’s going to happen with him when you leave the country next month?” She leans back with her arms folded across her chest.
“Well, no. Not exactly. But—”
“Like I said. You need to end things with him. At least have the decency to break up with him before you leave for Europe for a year.”
I huff loudly, but don’t feel the irritation to back up the sound. “He wants to come visit. At the Olympics, Abby.”
Abby’s mouth falls open. Her hands dart out and cover one of mine. “That’s a terrible idea, Kate. He won’t be able to deal with the attention you’ll be getting. He’ll make the proudest moment of your life miserable.”
I know she’s right. He will be an absolute shit if he goes with me.
“I’ll break up with him before I leave,” I tell her. I cut off her smile, adding on to my promise. “After my last day at work. No sense making everything awkward when I only have a few weeks left.” I put my notice in since I’ll be gone for so long.
She pats my hand. “Good idea. Just don’t leave it until the last minute. He might be an ass sometimes but that’s cruel.”
A knock on the door lets us know our food is here. Abby get it and unpacks the bag onto the table.
“I won’t wait until the last minute, mum. Can we eat now?” I ask, done with discussing Logan.
Abby doesn’t respond. She simply picks up her chopsticks and stuffs her mouth full of tangerine chicken. I take that as a yes and dig into my own container of beef chow Mein.
Dax
“Hell that felt good,” I exclaim as Adam, Gavin, Hawke and I head out of Ross’ office.
“About time, yeah?” Adam punches my arm, grinning like a fool.
Gavin glances around with a nervous tic as we exit the lifts and cross the enormous lobby of our new record label.
“You alright, mate?” I ask, watching as his bloodshot eyes dart back and forth suspiciously.
“I’m fine,” he snaps. Dismissing me completely.
Hawke grimaces at Gavin’s back but keeps his thoughts to himself. Adam is going on and on about our new label and how great it will be to have more creative control.
Me? All I care about is the fact that I won’t have to deal with Lila fucking Griffin and her mountain of bullshit anymore.
Gavin’s Range Rover is waiting for us out front. Ross’ secretary must have called to have it brought around. Outside, it’s a real scorcher, even for L.A. in July. Hot enough to roast your bollocks if you stay in the sun too long.
Gavin hurries around the front of the SUV and jumps in, slouching down behind the wheel.
“What’s up with him?” I nudge Hawke’s arm and point towards Gavin with my chin.
“Oh, nothing. It’s probably the heat, that’s all.” Hawke opens the passenger door and climbs in next to Gavin.
“Okaaay,” I say to myself.
When I climb into the back seat, I turn expecting Adam to be following me, but I’m alone. I look outside and realize he’s made a few new friends. A group of girls has him surrounded, smiling and taking selfies with their phones. Adam is grinning, playing along and signing whatever scraps of paper they come up with.
“Fucking asshole. Always gets the girls,” Hawke mutters.
“Oh fuck off,” I say lightly. “You get so much pussy you’re buried in it.”
That’s no lie. Women really really like Hawke and his tattooed, skater boy look. Hell, they like all of us, although Adam gets the most attention by far.
He makes it look so easy. You’d never know by his public behavior how miserable the bloke is. Adam’s only sober this morning because we had a meeting with the executives for our new label and if he fucked it up for us, we’d have killed him. Inside that tortured mind of his, I’m certain he’s counting the minutes until he can get his hands on his next drink.
Adam waves, expertly extracting himself from the groping hands. “Thanks ladies. Cheers!”
He climbs into the seat next to mine, grinning like an idiot.
“Can we go now, your highness? Or is your fan club still needing your service?” I ask, pointing at the now very large group of girls he’s left squealing on the sidewalk to take pictures of the SUV.
Before Adam can answer, Gavin slams down on the gas, rocketing the massive vehicle out into traffic. A loud horn sounds as the squeal of breaks echoes up and down the street.
“Jesus, Gav, watch it!” Hawke yells from the front seat. “Fuck! That car almost hit us.”
Hawke is freaking out over the near miss, hurling a slew of insults at his best friend. Gavin mumbles an apology under his breath, which only causes Hawke’s face to darken with fury.
Adam and I exchange glances, but stay silent. Gavin’s been off lately. Edgy, nervous, like a rabbit being stalked by a fox. He looks like something you’d find in the bottom of your bin, not the posh, well-dressed man I’m used to seeing.
Hell, between the four of us, you’d think at least one of us could be a normal, functioning member of society. But no, we’re all equally fucked in the head, it seems.
Bloody brilliant.
* * *
Gavin drops us off at Hawke’s place, a nice house he bought up in the hills. We decided to grab a bite to eat and Gavin begged off, saying he had something to do. He tore out of the driveway so fast I’m wondering if he’s stable enough to be behind the wheel.
Whatever is bothering Gavin, that near accident made Hawke shoot him a look so dark, you’d think Gavin went and dropped a clanger on his living room carpet.
“That was strange,” Adam quips, before heading straight for Hawke’s liquor cabinet.
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. Telling Adam not to drink does absolutely nothing. If anything, it makes him more determined, even if he does appreciate our concern. Banging my head against a wall isn’t something I enjoy.
“Let it go,” I tell Adam, though it’s more for Hawke’s sake. “If Gavin has something he wants to discuss with us, he will.”
Hawke laughs, “Yeah, because we’re all the type to sit down and have a sharing of feelings moment.”
“Fuck off, Evans.” I flip him the finger, American style, and smile.
Hawke and I set to making lunch, or in this case, pulling out food Hawke’s housekeeper has stocked in his fridge. Adam plops down on the sofa with his drink, singing along with the XM channel he selected.
Miley Cyrus, wonderful.
I glance at Hawke and catch his eye. “We need to hurry,” I whisper. I have to get him back to the hotel before he’s too pissed to move.”
Hawke nods. “I have plans later. I can’t babysit his ass tonight, but he can crash here if he has to.”
“It’s your call, mate.”
Hawke’s dealt with drunk Adam before. Hell, we all have. He shrugs and I take that as a yes.
“Right then. I’ll eat then call a cab so you don’t have to drive me back to the hotel. It’s only a few minutes away.”
He agrees and we dig in, serenaded by international rock star Adam Reynolds as he belts his way through an impressive rendition of Wrecking Ball.
Fuck, if the public only knew.
* * *
An hour and a half later, I collapse onto one of the leather recliners in my hotel suite, new contract in hand.
No more Lila.
I close my eyes, trying to imagine how great it will be to work and go on tour and not have to deal with her. No more of that stupid bloody show of hers, either. Thank god for that. I’ve avoided her as much as possible, but she still catches me with those damn cameras now and then. When she does, I try to curse a lot so the footage will be useless.
I chuckle at the thought, my eyes still closed.
A sharp rap on my door breaks my little fantasy.
Hell, it better not be Adam. I’d be shocked if Hawke brought him home already. We both live in the Chateau Mar
Pathetic? Maybe. I can’t be bothered to give a shit.
Stupidly, I yank open the door without checking who it is and find myself face to face with Lila Griffin, surprisingly without her camera entourage.
“What the fuck do you want, Lila,” I growl, feeling the hostility heat the blood in my veins like a match to gasoline.
“Why yes. I’d love to come in,” she says acerbically, shoving past me into the suite.
I slam the door a little, okay maybe a lot, too loudly. “Why are you here, Lila?” I cross my arms over my chest and give her my most intimidating stare.
She stands her ground. I’m impressed. She’s either brave or stupid. “You think you’ve gotten rid of me?” she snaps out. “You haven’t. Not by a long shot. I’ll make you sorry that you left my dad… that you left me.”
So she knows we’ve jumped ship from her dad’s record label. “Like I give a fuck what you do.” I stalk over to where she’s standing, hands on her hips and a hideous, twisted grimace on her face.
Towering over her, I make myself perfectly clear. “Get out. Don’t ever come back. If you do, I’ll make your life a living hell. Daddy isn’t going to be there to control me anymore so you’d better hope I never see you again.”
Lila’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She quickly contains her reaction, her mouth spreading into a flat evil grin. “You fucked up, Dax. You could have had it all. My dad’s power and influence, my show to make you a household name, me. Now I’ll make sure you know what it feels like to be fucked over.”
Who the hell does she think she is? She’s a bloody nutter.
“Leave. Now.” I walk back over to the foyer and open the door. “Or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
Lila does as I ask, swinging her hips as she teeters on those ridiculous heels of hers. I step back when she attempts to touch my chest as she walks by, her hand swiping nothing but air.