Rock Star: The Song (Book 1 of a Bad Boy Romance) (7 page)

“
Y
ou
?” he exclaimed.

Now here was a kid who recognized me but by all accounts didn’t look like a fan. Obviously the Deep Purple T-shirt was the first giveaway. There were different types of fans. Those who wanted to tear a limb off you in hopes of showing their friends and those who would have chopped you up into little pieces if they could only get past a barricade of bodyguards. Then, you had the ones who simply didn’t care who you were. You weren’t special in their eyes. You didn’t add or take away from life. You just existed. I kind of got the feeling that was him.

“Expecting someone else?”

He shuffled around, readjusting his coat as if he wanted to put on some manly front.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

I stared past him toward the sign that read, “Rita’s Cottages: Your Perfect Getaway.”

He followed my gaze.

“Was Meghan with you this afternoon? Was that you in the truck?”

“I think that’s probably something you should take up with Meghan.”

“Ah, so you do know her?”

“Well of course, she delivers my breakfast every morning.”

He huffed. “What’s the matter with your legs?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why make her come all the way out here?”

I scratched the side of my face.

“Is there a problem here?”

“She’s taken.”

“What?”

“Meghan. She’s already got a boyfriend.”

“No she doesn’t.”

“Is that what she said?”

I exhaled hard. Where the hell did this kid come from?

“Listen, kid —”

“I’m not a kid, and don’t speak down to me. You might be some hot shit where you come from, but here, you are just like me. We are the same. I play guitar just as good, if not better than you.”

“Really?”

He nodded, totally confident in his ability. He literally oozed all the arrogance of every guitar player I had met. There was something about guitar players. It always felt like a pissing match with them. As if they needed to prove themselves as the better member of a band.
Turn me up, I need more solo time, we don’t need keys. Just crank this baby.
It was always the same.

He had the attitude, and from what I saw the other night, he knew how to throw a few licks around. But damn, he needed to rein in his ego.

“What do you want?”

“It’s not what I want. It’s what I don’t want. I don’t want you breaking her heart. I know your type. Coming in here, thinking you are God’s gift to women. Acting all macho and shit, just because you’ve had a few hit tunes. Now you think that all women should drop and give you twenty on your John Hancock.”

Why was I even standing here listening to this peckerwood?

“Look, it’s not like that.”

“Then how is it?”

I stepped outside, closing the door behind me.

“You want to take a seat?”

“I’m perfectly fine standing.”

“Suit yourself.”

I sank down into a rocking chair and gazed out into the night.

“You know it’s kinda late. Do you want a beer?”

His face went from scowling to surprise. I knew I had hit his weakness. All men were the same. Beer was part of their language, so were women. Put the two together and you either ended up having some right dirty conversations, or you ended up trading fists. Despite all the macho crap that I’d seen from guys on the road, it didn’t take much for them to soften up when a woman was around. It was if they knew how to bring down our defenses, strip back the hard exterior and take a hold of our hearts.

“Sure.”

I went and got two cold Buds from the fridge. He twisted the cap of his and chugged down a few gulps before wiping his face with the back of his sleeve.

“You played well the other night.”

“You were there?”

“Lingering in the shadows. But yeah.”

“Tell me. You think I’ve got what it takes to make it on the big stage? I’ve always seen myself as the guy in the wings. The Richie Sambora, the Edge or Zakk Wylde of my generation.”

I chuckled to myself.

“Who knows, kid? Though I will give you this. You’ve got to have balls to step out on that stage and hit all the right notes.”

He gazed out, taking another swig of his drink.

“Yeah, I can do that. Anyway, what’s the deal with you and her? And what are you doing in the armpit of our state?”

“Ain’t that the question,” I muttered to myself. “I’m here to write. And I’m not sure what my deal is with her.”

“Yeah, sounds about the same as me, except minus the writing. I don’t write.”

“How long have you know Meghan?”

He kicked his feet up and I could see his defenses were coming down.

“Me and sweet cheeks go way back. You know I was the first kid to kiss her?”

“I didn’t know that.”

What did he think, I was a mind reader?

“You always liked her?”

“Well. Between me and you, she’s a little stuck-up, sometimes stubborn. But don’t ever tell her that. That girl has a right hook on her that would make Muhammad Ali blush.”

“She said you were seeing her friend?”

“I am. I think. Honestly, I don’t really know what the hell’s going on between me and Sophie. It’s a bit of an awkward situation. You know the typical love triangle. Sophie wants me. Meghan wants me. And I think they want me to make a decision. But I keep telling them, there’s plenty of Spike to go around.”

He nodded, taking a sip of beer and finding it quite amusing.

“Chicks. What can you do?” Spike said.

“Well, let me tell you. You don’t want to keep them in the dark. Or sit on the fence. I’ve been there, kid, and it’s not a pretty sight. Hearts get broken and damn, well, then you are left to pick up the pieces. If there are any pieces. Some girls will burn your shit if you do them wrong.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

For a while we sat in silence, sipping on beers. It was strange not having someone make a fuss over who I was, or what I did for a living. I wondered if others in this small town were like that. Maybe it was all in my head?

“So you OK with me doing music with Meghan?”

“What?”

Spike put his drink down and scowled.

“Guessing she didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Probably best you speak to her. Anyway, I’ve got some things to get done. It was good meeting you…”

“Spike.”

“Right.”

* * *

A
s I closed
the door behind me, I leaned back listening to the sound of Spike leaving. There were very few things I liked doing. Letting down some kid who obviously had a crush on Meghan wasn’t one of them. For a moment, I wondered if I should have been getting involved. My instincts told me it wasn’t right. Had it been any other town, any other reason why I was visiting, I would have left by now.

But I needed to get to this song written. I hadn’t felt such extreme writer’s block in my career. I used to hear of other band members getting it. But it was foreign to me. Songs flowed from me easily, but since her, since the event, I hadn’t been able to get my head clear. She’d done a number on me and no amount of distance, or time away from what I did, or distractions had helped.

The past few years had been like torture.

I had retreated into solitude. Occasionally throwing myself in as much sex I could get. Just to feel. Just to feel anything.

There had been few women who had managed to turn my world upside down. Emily had been one of them. Two years of no writing, no songs created, no new albums made people forget.

The media thought I was in rehab, others thought I had given up music and disappeared to live off my retirement fund. I could have done that. I had more money than I could ever want. But it wasn’t money I wanted, otherwise I wouldn’t have been so bothered by the thought of being dropped from a label.

It was being forgotten.

That was death to any entertainer. Sure, there were some that would say they got in it for the love of music. But deep down, when you got them alone and had a couple of drinks, they would all sing the same story. It was for the love of people. We fed off that. The highs of playing live, the thrill of selling more albums than our peers. Awards, well, they were just the icing on the cake.

But the thought of losing that. Becoming just another face in the crowd. Someone who was only known as the guy who once was a country rock star. That became the stuff of my nightmares.

T
he following days
were strange and beautiful. Mornings and evenings were spent with Chase. Everything about our time together was professional, and yet bordering on another kiss. I could see it in his eyes. The way he looked. The way guys looked when they were hungry for sex.

I hadn’t seen Spike since the previous night. Chase had mentioned he’d been around, asking questions. Something I never expected. Neither was I aware that he had such strong feelings for me. I always saw him like a childhood friend. He and Chase were worlds apart. Not because of what they did or where they came from, they were just different.

As evening wore on, Chase wanted to get out. We had been at it for several days. Trying to lay down music over lyrics. Searching for words to a good chorus. For once it was tough. I notched it up to the excitement and distraction.

I made it clear that if we went to one of the local bars, he would have to be prepared for the unknown. People could be pestering him. Drunk women might get a little too hands-on. If he was fine with that, so was I.

That evening we pulled into Arthur’s. I wore boots up to my knees, tight jeans and a loose shirt. He looked amazing. A form-fitting black shirt that hugged in all the right places, showing his muscular physique. I caught the faint aroma of his crisp aftershave, it was bold and delicious. I wasn’t sure if it was just his smell or the total package. But being with him made my knees wobble. I wanted to pinch myself, just in case I woke up and it was all a dream. It was a local Irish bar that had opened up the previous year. It didn’t get a lot of people in the week. Mainly because it was new and locals had become accustomed to going to Blue 32 sports bar on the west end of Lakeside.

* * *

I
started
with a large Smithwick’s ale and several Jell-O shots that I’d convinced the owner, Tom Whitey that he needed to offer if he wanted to attract the locals. I also had recommended he add a sports lounge. Folks were big on the yearly Super Bowl games, and Blue 32 made a large chunk of their earnings from that weekend.

I was feeling my whole body tingling by the time I had sunk another two shots. There was something about liquid courage. It made you honest. It made you feel braver than you really were. I had to tell Chase to stop ordering them. The guy was a fish, he could drink anyone under the table. But me, I was a complete featherweight. I wasn’t used to drinking that much in one session.

The bar was practically empty by nine o’clock. Not like Blue 32 which had frequent lock-ins and would keep pouring drink into the early hours of the morning.

The more we drank that night the closer we became. I didn’t mind, hell, I was eager to be close to him. Of course I wouldn’t tell him that. Liquid courage or not. I had a good hold on my senses. At least I thought I did.

“You want a game of pool?” he asked, gesturing over to the two tables at the far end of the room. Small pot lights lit up the tables. I hadn’t played in years. My father had been an avid player. He had his own pool table in the house and growing up it was common for me and a boyfriend to mess around on it. Oh, the hours of pleasure we’d had on that table. If my father only knew.

“Sure,” I croaked, trying to get a hold of myself. My whole body was buzzing by now, I felt as light as a feather. It was always the same. I would go through two stages when I drank. The first was fits of laughter, the second was tiredness. For some reason I skipped the whole part of being belligerent. Or maybe I just hadn’t had anyone push my buttons when I was drinking.

“Rack ’em up, hot stuff,” I said, smiling from ear to ear like a buffoon. I was glad this bar didn’t have cameras. I was less worried about Chase being caught on camera than I was myself.

“So what would you have done if you hadn’t become a rock star?” I asked while putting some blue chalk on the end of my cue. It squeaked like nails being run down a chalkboard. That was the one sound from my childhood that I didn’t like.

“I didn’t have a B game. This was it.”

“No, c’mon, you must have had something else in mind,” I said, trying not to slur my words.

As I watched him rack the balls up on the table, he looked up. His eyes had a way of turning my stomach to mush.

“No, I’m serious, if this hadn’t worked out, who knows where I would be.”

“So how did you get into it?”

“I wrote at home. A lot like you. I was passionate about it. My mother would have said obsessed.”

“Like?”

“You know. Playing for hours when I should have been doing my homework. Writing lyrics while I was in class. I dunno, the whole get an education and become a good citizen never hung well with me. I wanted to raise a little hell.”

“You renegade.”

I watched him go to the back of the room and get a pool cue, savoring everything about him.

“What about you?”

“Oh, my life is the least interesting.”

“I don’t know about that. What I’ve seen has held my attention.”

He held his gaze for a moment, and I smiled, relishing the moment.

“So how do you want to play this?”

“Depends. How much have you got to lose?” I asked.

He gave a smirk. “A lot.”

I had a good feeling he wasn’t referring to cash.

As he removed the rack from the balls and stepped back to get a look at the table, I could feel myself wanting to flirt. It was the shots, without a doubt. Truth was, I hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

“So how come a girl like you isn’t with someone? I would imagine you would have a line of guys waiting for you.”

I hit the white ball and there was a clear cracking sound as the balls dispersed all over the able.

“What makes you think they aren’t?”

He laughed. “Come now, Meghan. Spike is the only guy who has shown up, and well, I’m pretty sure the feeling is not mutual there.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Well that might be the case. But maybe isn’t it.”

“You like to keep a guy guessing.”

“Isn’t that the fun?”

He licked his bottom lip before taking a shot and dropping a ball down the corner pocket.

I leaned in, allowing him to see a good shot down my top. I had on a pushup bra, and my ladies were in good form. Why not? He would be gone soon and well, at least I would give him something to remember. I aimed, squinting, and fired.

Three balls went down.

“Whoooo,” I let out a yell and jumped up a little.

“Lucky shot.”

“Hey, I’m just getting warmed up.”

“Oh, this shit just got real,” he said with a large smile.

As he leaned down against the table, and slid the cue between his fingers, I came up behind him and leaned in, allowing my hair to brush against his face.

“Steady there, you might miss.”

“That’s sneaky.”

“What? I’m just using what I got.”

He made his shot and nothing went down.

“So what will you do about the café if you win?” he asked, running a hand through his dark hair.

“I haven’t really thought about that.”

“You don’t think you can win?”

I was about to take a shot, when I paused and contemplated the question.

“This game. Yeah,” I cracked the balls and several more went down.

He let out a laugh as he came around. As he did I swear I felt his hand run around my hips.

“If I win, I would see where it went. I’m up for something new. I love this town. But with my parents gone now, everything reminds me of them. Not that that’s a bad thing, but it’s still hard.”

He nodded. I watched him knock two balls down. He looked pleased with himself, especially after missing the last few shots. I thought about going easy on him. But I enjoyed the competition.

“It’s going to be a whirlwind even if you make it to the finals. Whether you win or not, someone is going to sign you.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

He took a shot and knocked three more balls down, one after the other.

“What about you? Who did you last date?”

“You really don’t keep up on the tabloids.”

“What can I say, I don’t have time for nonsense.”

“My kind of girl.”

I blushed.

“No, I heard through the grapevine. Sophie. That you hadn’t been with anyone in several years. Why?”

“Busy.”

“No. C’mon. Not the great Chase Bryan.”

“Oh, from dick to great. I must be doing well.”

“Ha-ha,” I retorted.

“Nah, forget about me. I’m more interested in you.”

“Oh, I just think you are sweet-talking me. I know your game, Chase. All smooth talking until you get a woman in your bed.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” He held the pool cue behind his neck and let his arms dangle over it. Standing there all sexy.

I eyed him as I leaned down and took another shot.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.”

As he came around, he moved in close and I stepped backwards. My butt pressed against the edge of the pool table.

“Chase? It’s your shot.”

“I know.”

He moved in closer. His eyes were drinking me in. Placing his pool cue beside the table he put one hand on the table and the other on the other side, hedging me to the point I had to sit back.

“That kiss the other day. You think I could give you another?”

“I… I…” I inhaled hard. Heat flooded my veins, making me hot all over. I could feel a shot of electricity go from my feet to my head and back again, as he touched my arm.

“I’ll tell you what. You hit down the next ball, and you’ll get that kiss.”

“Deal.”

He pulled away and began putting some chalk on the end of his cue. He limbered up as though he was about to go up against a prizefighter. I smiled at him. The shot was a difficult one. To get the solid blue ball down, he would have to knock the ball off the far side and around one of my striped balls.

Leaning down he looked up at me briefly and flashed a sexy smile. I bit down on the side of my lip. I could feel myself breathing a little heavier. Every fiber of my being wanted him to hit it. It’s not that I wouldn’t have let him kiss me again. It was just I wanted to see him eager to earn it. I was sure that he’d had many girls throw themselves at him. I didn’t want to be that way, even though I knew I was going to fail miserably this evening.

He barely touched it.

The white ball rolled forward and kissed the side of the pool table before breaking away and rolling towards the blue. Both of our eyes were wide as we anticipated what would happen next. Then, as if someone had let the air out of a good set of tires, it stopped rolling. It never even hit his ball.

“Damn.”

“That was a tough shot.”

He wandered over and drew in close. His dark brown puppy eyes pulling me into his world. His hands wrapping around my waist. I could feel the strength in his arms as he hoisted me up onto the pool table.

“Surely I should get one for effort.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

I studied his face, his broad shoulders and solid arms. The desire between us was building with each passing second. I could feel chills going down to my feet at his touch. His eyes bore into me, making it clearly obvious that this kiss was going to happen. He was so close now I could feel his warm breath, and the scent of his cologne.

In the next moment his lips brushed the side of my cheek, making their way around to mine. He gently pulled at my lower lip as if encouraging me to give in to the temptation. Then he just locked lips with me. I never resisted. I wanted to taste him. Every cell in my body was firing on all cylinders. I moaned into his mouth as I felt his tongue slip beyond my lips. My hands gripped his back pulling him in tight, while his ran up my back making me shiver.

He tasted so good. A blend of liquor and wetness that caused my thoughts to go to places I had only dreamed about. What started out as an innocent kiss soon moved into white-hot passion that was building with every passing second.

I was half expecting to hear the bartender or one of the few patrons in the house telling us to get a room, but nothing was said. Maybe they were used to seeing couples make out. All I knew was if we kept this up, clothes would be coming off.

I stumbled back slightly and he pulled away, then returned, again mashing his lips into mine before tracing them down my neck.

“Steady, tiger,” I said while gasping for air. “Don’t you need to be careful? I mean with all those tabloids hungry to run dirt on you. This would be exactly what they needed.”

He stepped back and cast a glance over his shoulder. There wasn’t anyone taking photos but it was possible. Everyone had a cell now days. A quick snap was all it would have taken.

“You’re right. Let’s go back to your place.”

“Ooh, bad idea.”

“What? You not enjoying this?”

“Oh, I’m enjoying it. Believe me. But my place is a mess and, well, it’s probably best we head back to yours.”

He nodded, took a hold of my hand and I slid off the table.