Rock Star: The Contest (Book 2 of a Bad Boy Romance) (9 page)

I
had
to admit I was impressed by Spike’s change. To think that a guy had gone to all that trouble for me. I was flattered. I really was. Yet it also meant that he still wasn’t getting it. How did you make it clear without being rude? I wasn’t interested in him. I liked him as a friend, that was it.

That morning, I awoke with the memory of what Leann had said. She was fully expecting me to blow this thing. Everything was being held in the balance. My future as a singer, if that was even going to happen, but even more importantly, Chase’s reputation.

Chase was set to meet me out at the lake early that morning. I brought coffee with me and had planned to tell him what Leann had in mind. I thought he was going to blow his lid.

The morning mist had settled over the lake. A flock of birds broke from a cluster of trees as I arrived. This time he was the first one there. He was looking out, and had brought along his guitar which seemed a little unusual.

I made my way down to the dock and handed him a coffee. Setting it down he took a moment to hold me and kiss me. I could get used to this. A part of me wondered what it would be like to have him living in Lakeside. It wasn’t like he couldn’t still travel the world, and play his music. But this could be his home, away from the cameras and lights.

I envisioned owning a stone home up on the side of the hill overlooking the lake. The smell of baked goods cooking, and mornings out on the porch with him. I knew it was just a fantasy. Life could never be perfect. But I liked the idea of shaping the future with him in it. Who knows? Maybe if he lived here, the town would grow in size as people would come to know it as the home of Chase Bryan.

I snorted.

“What?”

“Oh nothing, just dreaming.”

“So what did she say?”

Chase sat listening intently, waiting for me to finish going over what Leann was hoping I would do.

“Little bitch.”

“You can’t blame her. She probably grew up never having to work for what she wanted. Daddy probably bought it for her. Now the only way she can attempt to control the competition is through blackmail. “

“Still, it’s a dirty move. I have little respect for folks who stoop that low.”

“Well, that’s what she wants.”

“Me gone, or both of us gone. Seems pretty obvious what would make sense.”

“Yeah, but you’re not going to pull out. I will have her head on a plate rather than see you walk away from this.”

“Let’s not forget you wanted me to walk away at one point.”

“I know, but I was being selfish. I wanted you. I mean, to be with you.”

I nursed my coffee, taking a sip. A warm band of sunshine bathed us and was beginning to chase away the mist that had been on the lake all night.

“Spike is going to help us.”

“What?”

“No, believe me. He’s good with things like this.”

“What? Does he deal with psychos on a daily basis?”

“You should see some of our customers.”

He chuckled.

“The way I see it, she only has one copy. I don’t imagine she’s had the good sense to back it up. Now I might be wrong there. She could have placed it on the cloud, sent it to one of her computers. Who knows? Even emailed it. But for now we have to get rid of the one that is on the phone. We’ll deal with what we can control and the rest we’ll figure out from there based on what she does next.”

“But she’s expecting you to bail tonight.”

“I know.”

“She’s not going to let that phone out of her sight. And no doubt she’ll have a passcode on it.”

“Of course. It doesn’t matter. Spike is a whiz at getting past the passcodes on phones. He uses a magnet.”

“What, is he Ethan Hunt from
Mission Impossible
?”

I laughed.

“No, just Spike. Though he has changed his look.”

Chase shook his head. “Well, best of luck to you. I still think there is an easier way to go at this. I will just have her kicked off the show. Come up with some way to have her eliminated.”

“But that isn’t going to change the fact that she has that video. She would release it and you would then be screwed.”

“How the hell do I ever end up situations like this?”

I pointed between his legs.

“Thanks. You’re saying I think with my dick?”

“Don’t all men?”

We spent the next half an hour enjoying each other’s company. So much had changed between us since I had met him. The thought of seeing anyone else but him was hard to imagine. He had hooked into my heart and brought down my walls.

“Why the guitar?”

“You said that I do something. Bring out something when I’m with you. Sounds corny, but we should try doing some writing together.”

“That’s not allowed, Chase.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Neither is our relationship, but it’s happening.”

It was true. Words seemed to flow better when I was around him. It was if he unlocked a part of me. For the next fifteen minutes he played a few chord progressions and I hummed quietly, allowing my mind to drift into that writing space. He had a pad of paper and pen.

“Just jot things down as they come to you. Don’t worry if they sound strange.”

That was the way it worked. Sometimes it was a chord progression, other times just a lick on a guitar that would get me into the frame of mind where words flowed. Who knew where lyrics came from? I’d heard Bono from U2 did the same thing. He would have the Edge or all of them play and then just begin mumbling words into a mic. That was how their popular song “One” was written. It was as though the creative flow was found in the doing, not in waiting for inspiration to write. It expected you to show up and just write. The very act of doing it, opened some kind of channel for words to flow and form together.

That’s the way I saw it.

Sometimes those words came together fast, as though already formed and just waiting for someone to pluck them out of the invisible and breathe life into them through music. Other times, I would get a few lines, then a week or two would pass and I would get more that were completely unrelated. But then I would find they worked with ones I had written weeks earlier. I called those the jumbled-up songs. Words that had got lost, or unattached to the ones they were meant to be with. Eventually though, like bringing two magnets together, they would form and settle and a song would be birthed.

As the minutes ticked over, a song began to form.

T
he words were flowing easy
. It was as if we had never been apart. Chase knew it too. There was something unique about working together. Like catching lightning in a bottle. It was what every songwriter dreamed about. Finding that person or method to create a number one hit.

We were so caught up in the writing process that I had completely forgot about where I was meant to be.

“Shoot, I need to go,” I said, jumping up. “Spike will be waiting for me.”

I had told him I would meet him at eleven that morning. I had already discussed what he was going to do. He had been somewhat against the idea. He didn’t agree with everything I said, and for a moment he refused to do it. Once I told him that she was trying to get me kicked off, something changed. He went from anger at me to anger at her. That’s when I really knew he cared. I only wish I could have given him what he wanted. He deserved much more. Much better than I could ever hope to give.

* * *

W
hen I arrived
, Spike was tapping his foot. We had met in a parking lot outside the hotel where Leann was staying.

“You have the magnet?”

He held it up. It was a magnet on the end of a metal rod. Almost like an antenna that could be extended. The trick to unlock the passcode was simple, as long as it was turned on. When it came up to the screen which required you to enter the PIN, you hovered the magnet over the top right-hand corner. The screen would go blank and then instantly let you inside.

He wouldn’t tell me how he knew, and I had to wonder if he had used it a few times on my phone to check my text messages but I didn’t want to accuse him. I needed his help right now.

“So it’s pretty simple. You are all clear on what you need to do?”

“Yes, master,” he joked. “I will do this on one condition.”

Oh no, here it was.

“I’m not going to date you, Spike.”

“One kiss. I want one kiss. And I don’t mean a peck on the cheek. I want a full French kiss.”

I rolled my eyes. “You have got to be joking.”

“Nope.”

“I won’t do that.”

“Then get someone else to do it.” He began walking away.

I rubbed my face. “OK. OK. But I say when it’s done.”

“Three minutes. I want a full three minutes on your lips.”

My eyebrows rose. Damn, he was desperate. Honestly, I didn’t think my lips were that inviting.

“OK. Now go. Go up.”

He smiled looking as if he had won the lottery.

* * *

O
h sweet cheeks
, your lips are going to taste delicious. As I made my way into the hotel, I started to wonder how on earth I was going to pull this off. I envisioned going upstairs, knocking on the door and saying, “Do you mind if I delete that video you made of Meghan and Chase, I have a kiss riding on it?” And her reply, “For a kiss? Of course. Actually why don’t you screw me while you’re at it, too? You hot stud muffin.”

Ok, maybe I was fantasizing a little too much. But a guy can hope, right?

From the moment I entered I could see the dude behind the counter eyeing me up and down. Either he was gay or he was wondering what business I had being there.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, you can, Walt,” I glanced at his name tag.

That was the key. Use people’s names. Make them feel human. I’d seen the tactic on numerous FBI shows.

“I’m here to see Leann Turner.”

“And you are?”

“Boyfriend.”

He frowned, showing his skepticism. Turning to one side, he picked up a phone and I could hear him whispering something along the lines of… There is a gentleman here to see you. Says he is your boyfriend.

A second later he put the phone down.

“She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

I leaned against the counter and smirked.

“Walt, that’s what she always says. It’s the code for, come up and let’s get groovy.”

“Sir, do I look like a fool?”

“No, Walt, you look like an exceptional man. I’m guessing you shoot below par on the golf course and have your pick of women, most nights? Am I right? Am I right?”

“I would suggest you leave now before I call security.”

“Walt, there’s no need for the hate. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“OK. OK. I’m going but don’t you be expecting a tip. Or a discount on your morning coffee. Yeah, I know you get it from us. Bad mistake.”

I walked back outside the hotel.

“Ok, plan B.”

There were several entrances into the hotel. Three to be exact. These provided guests with a shorter, and easier access to the ground-level rooms. I would just wait for a guest to come out or go in and slip in behind them.

I only had to wait another ten minutes before an old couple came out. I slipped past them doing my best to avoid the cameras. Luckily the front desk didn’t monitor them. The hotel was known for keeping recordings but they weren’t monitored by a security team. The place was not Fort Knox. It was some poor attempt at being an upscale hotel in a dingy town.

Once inside, I made my way to the stairwell. I didn’t want to use the elevators, as those were located in the lobby. In full view of Walt.

Meghan had told me it was room 303. I made it up to the third level and shuffled down the hallway. I hadn’t really thought of what to say. Should I knock and say I was room service? Then bust my way in and hold her captive while I deleted her phone and made her swear that she hadn’t taken any copies? Or should I pretend I was an avid fan?