Mr. Rockstar (11 page)

He nodded, flushing a little.
“Yep.”

Isabelle stared at him. He was blushing? Mr. Rockstar himself? It was adorable.
“Wow.”

He shifted uncomfortably.

She looked down. The drooping condom was beginning to slip off his soft cock. She bit her lip for courage, then reached down and gently slid it off. He shuddered, obviously sensitive.

“
Where should I toss this?” she asked, holding it between two fingers.

H
e chuckled and took it from her. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, rolling off the bed. He stood up and padded to a door she hadn’t noticed before. When he opened it and flicked on a light, she realized it was a bathroom, decorated to match the bedroom. She let her eyes lazily drift down his body. He looked like a bronze god against all the white. He threw the condom in the trash and washed his hands, then wet a cloth and came back to the bed. His tattoo was even more beautiful now that she could see the entire thing in good lightning. The two mourning doves on his forearm mutated into a gorgeous geometric design along his shoulder and pectoral muscle, then into abstract feathers as it stretched down along his left hip. She touched the new tattoo she’d gotten, absently stroking along the ink’s path.

“
It’s beautiful,” he said, kneeling on the bed. He began to wash between her legs, careful not to rub too hard.

“
Thank you,” she said, still shy about it. She never thought he’d ever see it and yet here they were. He ran a finger down the ink, eyes gleaming. A hint of worry spread through her.

“
Give me some of your time, Isabelle,” he said, tossing the washcloth in the direction of the bathroom.

She shivered, not sure what he meant. The damp cloth cooled her skin a little too much. She pushed at the covers, trying to climb inside.
“I’m only here for a week.”

Marvin helped her pull up the comforter, then slid in beside her.
“Let me show you my life. It’s not so bad.”

She tensed up. Whatever happened to afterglow? She didn
’t want to talk about any of this right now.

“
Look, I know you don’t like the paparazzi, but you get used to it. And they’re mostly not insane. Really.”

She scooted down, wishing he
’d just be quiet. “I hate having people following me around.”

He sighed and gathered her close.
“I know.”

“
It freaks me out.”

He kissed her head.
“No one is watching us right now.”

She closed her eyes.
“I know.”

“
I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” he murmured.

Isabelle knew he meant it, but could she really trust him? They hardly knew each other and he came with a lot of baggage.
There’s nothing you can do about it right now,
she told herself. She sighed and let sleep drag her into darkness.

She woke a few hours later, stomach growling. When she rolled over and found only empty space next to her, she realized that Marvin had left the bed.
So much for keeping me safe
, she groused to herself, shoving back the comforter and standing up. She shivered as the cool air hit her nude body.
First thing is to go pee. Then, find some clothes.

A hot shower and half hour later
, she felt marginally more human, but still hungry. While she brushed her hair, the door to the bedroom opened and Marvin poked his head in, smiling when he saw her standing by the dresser.

“
Hey! You’re up.” He walked over and kissed her shoulder. Her stomach growled and he chuckled. “Hungry?”

He looked so happy she had to smile.
“Yeah.”

He kissed her again.
“I made reservations at my favorite restaurant. Ian said he’d meet us there, if that’s okay with you?”

She frowned. He
’d just gone and made reservations without asking? When his smile faltered, she forced herself to relax.
He’s asking you now, isn’t he?
“That sounds nice,” she said, squashing her worries down. She set her brush on the dresser, not happy to see her hands trembling.
Why am I so freaked out just because he’s famous? It’s not that big of a deal. Get a grip, Isabelle.

“
Don’t worry, I eat there all the time. No one usually bothers me,” he said, correctly interpreting her nervousness.

She sighed.
“I don’t know why this bothers me so much. I can’t help it. It makes me crazy.”

He smoothed a hand down her hair.
“You’re shy.” He shrugged. “That’s it. Nothing more complicated than that.”

Isabelle made a face.
“I hate it.”

“
It hasn’t stopped you from doing what you wanted so far,” he said, leaning against the dresser.

“Yes it has.”
She grimaced. “I wouldn’t move to L.A. when Ian asked me to come. I didn’t want to have to change jobs and deal with people I didn’t know. I went to college in the same town where I grew up. I’ve had the same best friend for twenty-five years.”

Marvin was silent for a moment.
“You can’t change who you are, but you can decide what you want to do with your life. If you want to move, you will. If you don’t want to, so what? You’re not hurting anyone by choosing what makes you happy.”

Isabelle blinked. That was… really insightful.
“What are you, a closet therapist?”

He grinned.
“My mother was a shrink, I can’t help it.”

She shook her head, smiling.
“Fine. Let’s go to dinner, Dr. Rockstar.”

He laughed and held out his arm.
“After you.”

Chapter Ten

“
Ian!” Isabelle practically ran across the restaurant. She hadn’t seen him in months.

Her brother stood up, grinning widely, then oofed when she ran into his arms.
“Belle, I’m so happy you’re here.” He squeezed her, lifting her off her feet a little, and then he stepped back. “You look great.”

She smiled, smoothing a hand down her peach dress.
“Thanks.” She was aware of a number of other diners watching them avidly, but did her best to ignore the prickling of her neck. Why were people always so nosy? Why couldn’t they just mind their own business?

“
I’ve already ordered some wine. Your favorite. So you can start telling me all about the wedding, beginning with the moment when Marvin popped Preston in the nose.”

Isabelle sat down, thanking Marvin for holding her chair. He was watching the two of them with an indulgent expression on his face.
“It
was
kind of epic,” she admitted, remembering Preston’s look of shock when he went down.

“
I don’t know why you dated him. He was a douche,” Ian said, picking up his glass. He sipped his wine, eyeing her over his drink.

“
He was Todd’s best friend. It was easy,” Isabelle said, a pang of shame making her cringe inside.

“
In other words, he was just there. You didn’t have to do anything,” Ian said.

Isabelle frowned at her brother.
“Is that too much to ask? Most women like it when a guy asks them out. I never had that. I was always too shy or too fat.” She was angry now. And hurt. The last thing she wanted to do was argue with her brother over this again.

“
I didn’t mean it like that,” Ian said, but Isabelle barreled on, upset.

“
Do you realize that not one guy has ever,
ever
, asked me on a date? Not once? I always have to ask.”

Ian had the grace to look ashamed.
“What about Tom? In high school?”

Isabelle gaped at him.
“Are you kidding me? You bribed him into asking me to that dance, and then he cheated on me with that blonde.”

“
You know about that?” Ian put his glass down, shifting in his chair.

“
Yes.” Isabelle huffed, sitting back. “He told me.”

Ian looked away and Isabelle felt happy about his discomfort for a moment, then she remembered why she
’d never told him she knew. “Oh Ian, it was a long time ago. I know you just wanted to make me happy,” she said, reaching out and putting a hand over his. “I’m not mad.”

He sighed.
“Isabelle, I’m so sorry. I had no idea he would do that.”

“
I know.” She sat back. She glanced at Marvin who looked from one sibling to the other uncomfortably. She pursed her lips, frustrated. “Almost every date I’ve been on is because someone else set it up for me. Even the fake dates, like Marvin.” She forced a smile at him, trying to lighten up the mood. It didn’t work. Ian still looked upset. Marvin looked angry, but then he leaned over and touched a finger to her arm.

“
Ian may have set us up in the beginning, but he’s not the reason I stayed,” he said, referencing that one night with her. He trailed the finger down her arm and clasped her hand in his. Warmth moved through her and Isabelle blushed, unable to tear her eyes away from his.
He didn’t have to say that
, she realized.

“
Well. That explains you dashing off to the airport, Vin,” Ian said, a note of relief in his voice.

Marvin sat back
, ignoring Ian. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent, kind woman,” he said to Isabelle, still looking into her eyes. While Isabelle struggled to digest this unprecedented compliment, he continued. “And most men are incredibly stupid.”

Ian grinned.
“I’ll drink to that.”

An hour later, Isabelle realized Marvin wasn’t totally serious about what he’d said. He let her and Ian catch up, joked around with them, and generally paid her outrageous compliments the entire time they were at dinner. He kissed her hand occasionally, poured her more wine, and made sure she was comfortable. Ian’s continued surprise over Marvin’s behavior was wonderful and Isabelle wasn’t too proud to admit that she enjoyed the attention. The dinner would’ve been perfect, except for one thing: the group of fans that had found Marvin just as their meal was ending. She blotted her lips with her napkin and eyed the cluster of women standing around Marvin disgustedly. If only their dinner together could’ve stayed private and pleasant, but no. Mr. Rockstar was just too freaking famous.

“
There you go,” Marvin said, handing over the last napkin. He’d signed at least half a dozen and gently suggested that they let him get back to his food, but the women weren’t taking a hint.

“
Is it true that you’re engaged now?” one of them asked.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. Not this again.

“Is she your girlfriend?” another asked, pointing at her.

Isabelle glanced over at Ian and they shared a look of disgust. The girl was treating her like an object. The crazy behavior of die-hard fans continued to amaze her.

“No way,” another said under her breath. “She’s probably this guy’s date or something.”

That was it. Isabelle stood up.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” she murmured to Ian.

He nodded and stood up too.
“I’ll join you,” he said, not enjoying the clot of people any more than she was.

Marvin frowned at the two of them, but he was trapped by his fans.

“He’ll be okay. This happens all the time,” Ian said, walking with her to the bathroom.

“
How can you stand it?” she asked, feeling a little freaked out.

He shrugged.
“I usually escape to the toilets.”

She
snorted. “Yeah, that’s my first strategy, too.”

He put a hand on her arm.
“So, are you two dating?”

She stopped short.
“Oh, not you too!”

He smiled crookedly.
“You’re my sister. He’s my best friend. I think I fall under the category of ‘ought to know,’ don’t you?”

She sighed, leaning back against the restaurant wall.
“I don’t know. I like him.”

Ian leaned next to her.
“But? I know there’s a ‘but’ somewhere in there.”

“
I can’t deal with all the publicity.” She grimaced. “You know how I am. You’re the same way.”

Ian was silent for a moment.
“I know that when you really want something, you don’t let anything stop you. Neither do I. Some things are worth the bother. You’re here for a week. Give him that time to show you what his life is really like. You may find it’s not as bad as you think.”

She shrugged.
“But do I really want him?”
You do
, a small voice inside her head said. She glanced back at their table. The clot of people around Marvin had grown larger. Ugh.

“
That’s a question only you can answer.” Ian pushed off and sauntered into the men’s restroom, as if he hadn’t just lobbed the ball squarely back into her court.

Isabelle watched him disappear.
“You were supposed to help me figure this out, Ian, not make it worse”
,
she muttered.
But he’s right
, she thought.
You never really gave Marvin a chance.
The least she could do was try. She nodded to herself. She’d stay the week. She’d keep her mind open.
No decisions until later.

As the week went by, Marvin showed her L.A. He took her to all the touristy spots and all the local hangouts. As she’d predicted, the more often they were spotted together, the more paparazzi showed up, as if the frequency of their appearances sent the message: here is Vin Clementine’s new girlfriend. Take pictures!

Isabelle hated it. She hated the attention and the lack of privacy as much as she grew to like Marvin more and more. He was attentive. Handsome. Funny. He treated her like she had a brain and didn
’t care that she was a little bit plump. He complimented her all the time. The sex was phenomenal. Every day, she fell a little bit more in love with him. And every day when they were out, someone shoved into their personal space and demanded Marvin’s attention, as if he were public property. As if he weren’t a person, deserving of respect and a little consideration. Isabelle’s frustration with the lack of privacy grew worse and worse.

On the fifth day, she lost it.

“Come on, just taste it,” Marvin was saying, holding out his pistachio ice cream cone.

Isabelle made a face at the green ice cream, shuddering dramatically.
“That ice cream is the wrong color.”

“
It’s delicious.” He took a big lick, laughing as she made a face.

“
I’m happy with my chocolate milkshake,” she said primly, sucking on her straw.

“
Hell. I’m happy with your chocolate milkshake, too,” he replied, eyes on her lips.

She smirked, about to say something flirty, amazed she
could
say something flirty, and then a photographer shoved a camera between them, snapping pictures. Isabelle shrank back, anger surging through her. They were sitting in the corner of the ice cream place, away from the windows. How did he even know they were here?

Marvin frowned and
put his hand in front of the camera’s lens. “We’re trying to eat lunch here,” he said, obviously peeved.

The man scoffed.
“So what? You’re in a public place.” He snapped some more shots, some of Marvin, some of Isabelle before she could duck.

Marvin stood up, but the guy didn
’t even step back.

“
Marvin, let’s just go,” Isabelle said, appetite gone. She pushed away her milkshake and grabbed her purse. She was really tired of this. She’d had a nice time here in L.A. with Marvin, sure, but every time they set foot outside, someone always bothered them: fans, photographers, journalists. The only normal time they had together was in his mansion. It was like being inside a gilded cage. It was exhausting. She just wanted to go home and crawl into bed where no one could find her.

“
She calls you Marvin?” the man asked in a mocking voice. “Who woulda guessed rocker Vin Clementine’s given name was Marvin.” He snorted.

“Oh come on, that’s common knowledge,” Marvin said as Isabelle frowned.

“That’s none of your business,” she told the man. He laughed at her. She stood up, feeling vulnerable sitting down.

“
There’s no reason to go, Belle. Hang on,” Marvin said, not looking her way. The man continued to take pictures.

“
Belle? Is that your name?” the guy asked.

She ignored his questions
as Marvin put a hand on hers. She trusted him, and so she tried to wait patiently, but then a bunch of girls came in the café and saw them. Isabelle’s spine knotted up.
Of course. Because we can’t even eat lunch without being bothered.
The girls pointed at them, whispering and giggling.
This is a disaster waiting to happen
, she thought, tugging on Marvin’s sleeve.

He glanced at her and she jerked her head toward the door. Marvin saw the girls heading over and sighed.
“Yeah, okay.” He threw a few bills down on the table for the tip and ushered her out, photographer in tow. They passed the crowd of girls and Marvin shook his head regretfully when they begged for an autograph. “Another time, ladies. Sorry.”

“
Belle, when did you meet Marvin? Are you two dating?” the photographer asked, following on their heels. He thrust his camera in her face.

Belle edged away, still trying to ignore the man.
“Marvin, I want to go home.”

He put a hand around her shoulders, turning so the photographer couldn
’t get a clear shot of her face. Charlie drove up with the car. “That’s where we’re going, Belle.” He opened the door for her and then climbed in after she’d settled onto the seat. “Home, Charlie.”

“
Sure thing, Vin.”

“
No, I mean I want to go back to New York,” Isabelle said. “I want to go
home
.”

Marvin leaned toward her, no longer the laughing, teasing man from the cafè.
“I’ll go with you then. I can finish recording the album in New York.” He took her hand, kissed the back.

Chest aching, s
he shook her head and pulled away. “No, Marvin.” She looked out the window, suddenly fighting back tears. Was she really going to do this? She thought of never seeing Marvin again and felt like someone was ripping her heart out of her chest. He was beautiful and kind and she could tell he cared about her, unlike every other man she’d dated. And then she thought about the people following them everywhere. The rabid fans. The crazy lack of privacy. Isabelle steeled herself. She couldn’t live like that. She’d go insane. “I need to go alone.”