The Complete Rockstar Series (13 page)

It’s just easier that way.

A
dam

T
he sleek car
pulls up in front of a giant, gated mansion in the Hollywood Hills. It’s lit up like the London Eye and is almost as big as Kensington Palace. The decadence of it is outrageous.

“Christ, this place is huge,” I mutter to myself as I stare out the passenger side window.

I wasn’t as quiet as I thought because the guy driving responds to me. “I know. Sebastian Wright is a big deal in this town. He produces a lot of films and almost always has at least one nomination each year at awards season.”

I think about that for a few minutes as we wait in line for the valet. If I could get a role, even a small one, in one of this guy’s movies, I could get enough money to fly home and find El. Maybe even enough to move her and her mum to L.A. so she wouldn’t have to choose between us again.

I figure I’ve had plenty of practice faking my way through life, making sure no one saw anything but the happy, popular guy at school when my reality was complete and total bullshit. The only time I was genuine was with my band or with Ellie.

Certainly acting can’t be that different. Although, I haven’t been good at keeping up the façade lately. Even Dax says I’ve been a surly arsehole the last few months. I’m sure it’s the drinking. It makes me leave the good-guy behind. Turns me into a bastard. Fuck, I don’t even know which one is the act anymore, good-guy or bastard. I don’t think I care.

“Let’s go, Adam.” The guy who drove me hands his keys to the valet and steps out of the car. I can’t even remember this guy’s name, just that he works on the crew for this producer’s latest movie.

“Right.” I put on my happy face and stride up the front stairs like I belong here. What a fucking joke. The cockney son of a crack whore and a drunk from the East End of London belonging in a multi-million dollar mansion in Hollywood? I can’t even convince
myself
of that.

Shit
. “I need a drink,” I tell my companion, spotting the bar on the patio out back. “I’ll catch up with you later.” I disappear in the crowd before he can say a word.

“Hey sweetie.”

“Hi gorgeous.”

“Looking for fun?”

“Want to dance?”

It takes forever to make my way to the bar with all of the different women stopping me and grabbing at my shirt or my arms. I brush off each one of them with a smile and a promise to be right back, knowing that if I have my way, I’ll be drunk enough to not remember a single one of them in an hour or so.

“Whiskey, neat, and don’t be stingy,” I tell the bartender. He raises an eyebrow at me, but makes my drink and hands it to me without comment. I throw back the double in a few quick gulps and immediately ask for another. My nerves have got to calm down so I can score with this producer. I grab the second drink and sip it slower than the first, glancing around the crowd as I unwind.

Women continue to shark me, coming by and chatting me up, pouting when I kindly rebuff each one of their attempts. As good as a quick fuck would feel right now, I need to focus on finding this Sebastian guy. Problem is, I have no idea what he even looks like.

I finish my whiskey and order a third, ignoring the bartender’s judgmental eye as I snatch my glass from the counter. I need to get away from these women and find someone who can help me meet Sebastian. Scanning the crowd again, I see no trace of the nameless guy that I came with.

Crap.

Irritated, I push my way through the people on the patio, all decked out in their posh designer clothes, putting on their self-important airs, and enter what must be a game room. There’s a massive red felt pool table and four large flat screens hanging from the walls, each one showing either sports or entertainment news. A foosball table is in one corner and a couple of old school arcade games in another. Not seeing my companion, I continue into the hall.

Fuck.
What in the hell am I even doing here? I slug back the rest of the whiskey and leave the empty glass on a small table. Leaning towards the wall I lay my forehead against it and close my eyes as the alcohol takes hold of my senses. The ground is swaying and my head is spinning, even with my eyes shut. The loud sounds of the party merge into a dull roar, fading away to the background. I laugh to myself, apparently even
my
iron constitution can’t handle three double shots of expensive whiskey in fifteen minutes.

I stumble down the hall towards what I guess is the loo, my feet dragging like cinder blocks. When I turn the handle and duck inside, I realize that it’s just another fancy room. If I squint, I can make out a staircase that must lead to the second floor. Unable to see, I fumble for a light switch, but can’t find one in the dark. The only light is coming from the windows, where the patio is glowing with thousands of fairy lights.

My head is swimming. I’m afraid I might not be able to stay upright. I put my hands out and grope blindly until I hit the edge of a sofa or chair. Thank God! I fall onto it and jump in surprise when someone squeals from under me.

“Bloody hell! You scared me!” I scoot over and see the outline of a girl with long, blonde hair.

“S-s-sorry,” she slurs, shifting some until she’s next to me, thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder. “I was just resting, I’m so tired.”

“Me too,” I admit. The sofa is so comfortable, and my arms and legs feel like jelly, so I let my head slump sideways to rest on her small frame.

“Mmmmm,” she moans. “You smell good. Like my favorite drink, Jack and Coke.”

I chuckle, “That’s because I drank some whiskey. A lot, actually.”

“Really?” Her dull eyes brighten a little. “Let me see.” She takes my head in her hands and presses her soft lips to mine, skimming her tongue along the crease. “Yep,” she says, smacking her lips playfully. “You taste just like it.”

I lean back and try my best to focus on her, but it’s so dark, and my head is so fuzzy and heavy. I reach out, putting my hand in her blonde waves, pulling a lock to my face and inhaling deep. Vanilla crashes over me and my heart clenches in a strange combination of hope and agony. “Ellie? You’re here?”

“Mmmmm,” she says, louder this time.

Grasping her behind her neck, I pull her in and kiss her again, more forcefully this time. She winds her arms around me and kisses back, her mouth opening and our tongues tangling together.

“Upstairs,” she whispers.

“I’ve missed you so much, El,” I rasp, my voice almost cracking from the tidal wave of emotions coursing through me.

“Come on.” She stands and tugs on my hand, leading me up the stairs where we stumble through a doorway into a large suite.

She yanks my shirt off and tosses it to the floor. Then pulls off her own clothes before pressing against me and kissing me again. I wrap my arms around her warm body, hugging her close in the dark room. I shed my jeans and join her on the bed, realizing too late that I left on my briefs. I kiss her one last time before I lay back and close my eyes, a big smile on my face, and dream of vanilla and Ellie Palmer.

F
ive years
later

E
llie

I
barely have
time to fish my new mobile out of my pocket before it goes to voicemail.

“Hello?” I answer, out of breath from rushing around my flat getting dressed.

“Hey love. I wanted to catch you before you went into work.”

“James, you’re too charming for your own good.” I grab my handbag and head out the door, locking the two separate dead bolts behind me.

“Well, what kind of fiancé would I be if I didn’t check on my girl on her first day as a real nurse.”

“You’re a wonderful fiancé and you know it.” I laugh and hurry down the busy street towards the tube station.

“Are you excited?” He sounds genuinely interested in how I’m doing.

“A little,” I admit. “Listen, I have to go. I’m going down into the tube and I don’t want to miss my train.”

“Alright love. Ring me later?” I smile, picturing him with his feet up on his desk in the Islington office of the London Metropolitan Police, probably twirling his pen between his fingers as we speak. He made detective a few months ago, so no more street cop for him.

“I will James, don’t worry about me. Go catch some bad guys.”

He laughs, “Not a problem. Love you, El.”

I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat every time he tells me he loves me. “You too. Gotta go!” I hang up my phone and push through the turnstile, hurrying to the platform in a sad attempt to distance myself from the direction my mind is wandering.

The bustling morning crowd serves as a wonderful distraction for my torturous thoughts. Instead of thinking about James and how perfect he is, if not a little overprotective, and how he should be with someone who can love him the way he deserves, I watch a posh woman in a business suit apply her makeup using a tiny compact mirror. I giggle when another waiting passenger bumps her and her lipstick smudges across her cheek.

The train arrives and I manage to grab an open seat. It’s only a ten-minute ride, but I’ll be standing all day and my nerves have my legs shaking already. I’ve finally finished my degree, having taken six years to complete instead of the usual four due to unforeseen circumstances. Now, being a real working nurse with an actual grown up job at the University College Hospital, is both exciting and terrifying. All of my efforts and long hours of hard work and studying have finally paid off.

I turn my new smartphone over and over in my hand, doing my best to ignore the Google function that calls to me like a fix to a drug addict. When James gave me the fancy phone for my graduation last month, he almost certainly never imagined that I’d use it to keep tabs on my ex-boyfriend and his band, stalking their every move and reading every article.

Pathetic as I am, I’m unable to stop myself and quickly type out
Sphere of Irony
, waiting impatiently for the internet to bring up the results. I scan the latest news and wonder which articles will lift my spirits and which will further wound my battered and shredded heart. I skim through a few useless bits about their new album, and a report about some sales record they broke.

Scrolling down, my eyes land on an entertainment piece about the band and my breath hitches in my chest.

S
phere of Irony
to
play Wembley Stadium in October.

I
squeeze
my eyes shut and attempt to calm my racing pulse. How does Adam still have this much power over me? We were together for six months, and it ended six years ago, and reading his name still destroys me.

I would think that traveling all the way to the U.S. to see him, only to have him tell me off in a drunken stupor at some big Hollywood producer’s house party, would put me off of Adam Reynolds forever. My heart, however, has other plans. It absolutely refuses to let go of my first love, and if I’m being honest with myself, my only love. I care about James and the few other guys I’ve dated, but I’ve only ever loved Adam.

When the train stops and announces our arrival at Euston Square, I hop up and dash out of the station, willing my nerves to calm and the tears that I still shed for that bastard to stay away.

T
he loud knocking
on my front door startles me while I dry my hair. My mind has been so frazzled and the anxieties so persistent, that I’ve been on edge for the last few days. I turn off the hairdryer and hurry to answer it, unlocking the chain and the locks after checking the peephole to see who’s there.

“What on earth took you so long, Ellie? You scared the shit outta me!” James barges into my flat and gives me an incredulous look.

“I’m sorry. I was drying my hair. I must not have heard you,” I explain.

He rubs his eyes tiredly and the worry lines on his face fall away. “Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to yell.” He steps over to me and pulls me into his arms, hugging me tight.

I hug him back weakly, too wound up and confused to put any real emotion into it. At least, that’s what I convince myself. It can’t be that I just don’t love him, because I
want
to love him, I’m desperate to love him. It would solve all of my problems if I
could
love him.

“I have to finish getting ready.” I use all of my non-existent acting abilities to keep my voice steady.

James releases me and follows me to the tiny bedroom where my makeup vanity is set up. “Aren’t you excited? I mean, you actually went to school with these guys. How unbelievable is that? I can’t believe you don’t own any of their music or haven’t ever been to a show.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as James yammers on and on, trying my best to ignore him and the blossoming anxiety that has me ready to retch up the small amount of food I managed to eat today. Grabbing my brush, I yank it through my hair but it’s no good. I finally throw the brush down and let my hair stay as is, tumbling down my back in loose waves. After applying a minimal amount of makeup, I turn to James, “Okay, I’m ready to go.”

I’ll never be ready for this, yet here I am, going along with it.

“This is going to be so much fun,” he says as we pull out of the drive.

I glance at James from the passenger seat of his unmarked police car, then back out at the city, unable to come up with anything appropriate to say.

“Ellie? Are you alright?” he asks after a few minutes of silence. James puts his hand on my knee and gently pats it. “You don’t look well darling.”

“I’m okay,” I answer, giving him a weak smile.

Actually, I think I’m going to lose my lunch. I must be mental, allowing my fiancé drive me to a concert that my ex-boyfriend is headlining.

“I really thought you’d like to go. I wouldn’t have bought the tickets otherwise.”

James surprised me a month ago with tickets to the big
Sphere of Irony
show at Wembley Stadium thinking I’d be perfectly chuffed to watch my old schoolmates perform. He has no idea that Adam and I were a couple, or any of our history together, and I’m certainly not going to tell him. Pretending to be thrilled to go tonight has been difficult if not impossible, but he’s so damn excited that I can’t bring myself to fake an illness at the last minute like I had previously planned.

“No James, I’m brilliant. You’re right, this will be fun.” I smile weakly. “Let’s just hurry and get there, I’m feeling a wee bit car sick.”

“Oh, sorry love. That must be why you’re all pasty.”

Yeah, if only that were the reason.

He lets me sit in silence for the rest of the ride and parks the car in front of a restaurant near the stadium.

“I thought we’d get a quick bite before heading over,” he says brightly after helping me out of the car.

“Sure, whatever you want.” I curl my hands up so tight that I’m sure my nails are drawing blood from my palms. James puts his large hand on my lower back and directs me into a small, but posh, Japanese restaurant.

We’re seated and I immediately order a flask of warm sake, earning a questioning look from James.

“What?”

“Is alcohol really the best way to cure motion sickness?” he asks. “You should get the ginger tea instead.”

Annoyed, I scowl at him. “I want a drink, James. I’ll eat some of the pickled ginger if my stomach acts up again.”

He holds his hands up in surrender, not wanting to fight with me. I study him as he reviews the menu. James is gorgeous, dark and rugged and masculine looking. He’s well over six feet of pure, bulky, muscle and intimidating as hell when he’s interviewing victims or suspects at the police station. I should know, we met when he responded to a break in at my old flat almost two years ago.

I turned him down immediately when he asked me on a date after the first break-in. When it happened again six months later, and I came home to find Callum Murray in my lounge waiting for me, I decided I could use someone large, scary, and in law enforcement in my life.

I took him up straight away on his repeat offer to go out with him when he contacted me after I healed from my injuries. A concerned neighbor had called the police the day of the break in, but they didn’t arrive until after Callum had broken my collarbone and several ribs, as well as slashed one of my wrists with a razor blade.

Even with James in my life, and moving to my current flat in Highbury, I’m still terrified that Callum will find me again. I had no idea he would hold so much resentment against me that he would seek me out four years after finishing sixth form. James said Callum had been in prison for a while, or he most likely would have come for me sooner.

After the second incident, Callum was arrested, processed, and sentenced to a year in prison. I got a restraining order, a very real fear of being killed by him someday, and a hulking detective fiancé that I’m not in love with. Plus, I dropped out of school for a while to cope with the stress.

“Done?” James asks, pointing at my half-empty bowl of miso soup.

My head snaps up and I realize that the waitress is standing over me, waiting to take my dish.

“Oh, yes. Sorry.” She leans in and removes the bowl before disappearing. I look across at James and see that he’s staring at me strangely.

“What?” I run my hands over my mouth. “Have I got a bit of food on my face or something?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You’ve just been acting odd lately. You sure you’re alright?” His deep brown eyes are fixed on me as he scowls. I can’t tell him what I’ve wanted to tell him since we got engaged six months ago. That I can’t marry him. I’m ruined, too broken for him and he’s too good for me.

Instead, I see his bright chocolate eyes and smile, pretending everything is wonderful. “I’m great. Just tired is all. The hospital was busy today.”

He grins back at me, satisfied with my answer. “Alright then love, let’s go hear some music.” He stands up and escorts me out of the restaurant, taking my hand as we walk down the busy street towards the stadium.

The flask of sake is doing the trick, because I feel loose and warm, even in the cool October night. I put my arm around James’ waist and cuddle into his side and he happily situates his arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head.

We hand off our tickets at the gate and easily find our seats. When I see that we’re a good twenty rows back from the stage and off to the side, I’m relieved beyond belief. It’s not as though I actually thought Adam would be able to see me in the huge crowd, but I feel much calmer being back far enough that I won’t be able to see Adam, or his beautiful face, all that well.

“I’m going to have a pint, want one love?” James nudges my side and breaks me from my musing.

“That’d be brilliant.” I gratefully accept, knowing that I’ll need more than just the sake to get me through the next two hours.

While he’s gone for the drinks, I think about the last time I saw Adam, at that dreadful house party in California.

“
T
his place is massive
!” Kate exclaims as Hawke pulls up to the biggest house I’ve ever seen in my life.

“I know, isn’t it?” Gavin agrees. He’s squished in the backseat between me and Kate, while Dax is up front with Hawke.

“Wow!” I take in the enormous home, the tall palm trees that line the long drive, the expensive cars in front of the multi-car garage. We are worlds away from Hackney, that’s for sure.

The hired valet opens our door and we all pile out. “Let’s go in,” Dax says, grabbing Kate’s hand and tugging her towards the door.

“Ellie?”

I’m frozen in place, afraid to go any further. Afraid to confront Adam after what I did to him last year.

“Come on, I’ll be right here with you.” Gavin threads his fingers through mine and gives me the courage I need to move my feet forward.

We enter the giant front doors and have already lost the others in the wall-to-wall crowd. “Great, where’s everyone else?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about them, El.” Gavin bends his gorgeous head down so I can hear him over the loud music. “Need a drink?”

“Hell yes,” I say gratefully. Gavin knows me so well, he always did. That’s probably why he used to confide in me.

He leads me through the partygoers to a fully stocked bar on the back patio and motions to the bartender. “Two vodka tonics.” I grab mine and drink half of it right away, pleading with the alcohol to work it’s magic and get rid of my nerves.

“Slow down,” Gavin says, pointing at my glass. “You want to be able to talk to him, don’t you?”

I squint up at him and frown. “You’re right. I’m just freaking out.” I shake my free hand anxiously, trying to expend some of my nervous energy.

“Ellie, he loves you. There’s no doubt about that in my mind.”

“I hope you’re right. Gav.” A shudder ripples through me and I take another sip of my drink.

We walk through the house, searching for any sign of Adam or our friends. Twenty minutes later, we find Dax and Kate in a hallway off of an enormous game room. Hawke appears a few minutes after us with a couple of beers that he hands to Kate and Dax.